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moni-logues · 2 years

Text

Kintsugi 3

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 11.1k

Content: more jokes about killing herself, jokes about death etc., reader tries to make herself sick (NOT food/ED-related, does not succeed), mention of a suicide attempt, Yoongi has a depressive episode

A/N: thanks to @btsgotjams27, @purplewhalewrites, and @here2bbtstrash for the help with this one. I hope we got there in the end!

Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Four

Chapter Three – What doesn’t kill you makes you wish you were dead

You woke, able to see without opening your eyes that the sun was streaming, bright and strong, into the room. Your whole body hurt, an all-over bruise; your head was pounding; your mouth was desert dry. It seemed impossible that you could be awake and feel this awful. That this wasn’t actually death. You prayed and hoped that it would somehow be 4am and you could go back to sleep, at least for a little while.

Then you rolled onto your back with a groan and were disoriented to find that it wasn’t your bedsheets against your skin, your mattress beneath you. You couldn’t remember where you were, why you weren’t in your own bed, why you weren’t in any bed at all. With a resigned sigh, you squinted one eye open and the world fell into place.

Yoongi’s apartment. The sun beaming through his floor-to-ceiling windows. Him asleep on the sofa across from you: his legs curled up, his hands tucked sweetly between them, his mouth a tiny pout.

Fuck.

You fumbled around for your phone and found it wedged between the sofa cushions beneath you. The bad news was it was not 4am and you had managed to sleep through your alarm, the first one at 6 and the second at half past and the third at 7. The good news was at least you weren’t late for work... yet. You pulled yourself off the sofa and crawled towards the kitchen, where you chugged a glass of water and felt guilty looking in Yoongi’s fridge for something sugary to drink. No luck. You opened his cupboards quietly, looking for something you could eat. You found the frangipanes from last night and offered up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might have been listening. You grabbed one – yours or Yoongi’s you neither knew nor cared – and shoved it into your mouth where it immediately turned to ash. You choked it down with another glass of water and dropped the remainder of the tart on the counter.

That was the moment you knew you were really in trouble. A bad hangover could be cured with sugar and fried food and a lot of it. A death hangover could not.

You sat, feeling sorry for yourself, slumped on the floor, leaning against the cupboards, from which vantage point you could see the sideboard you had leant yourself over last night. When you and Yoongi fucked. You closed your eyes—instantly regretting it when it transported you to the high seas of your hangover, the world lurching around you—and tried not to think about it.

Not because it had been bad. Not because you hadn’t wanted it. It hadn’t been. You had. But the twisting of anxiety in your guts made you feel even sicker and you didn’t have the space in your brain to unpick it.

You crawled back to the sofa for your phone and were about to turn to leave the apartment when you looked at him again.

Yoongi. Yoongi who just broke up with his girlfriend. His cheating girlfriend. Yoongi who came from nothing and now could live in luxury. Yoongi who bought you knives to say sorry. That Yoongi. You couldn’t just leave, walk out, ditch him. At the very least you would have to see him the following week in class and you didn’t want this to leave a cloud. You didn’t want to hurt him and, lord knows, if he walked out on you, you’d be sore.

“Yoongi?” you called.

He gave no answer so you called again.

“Yoongi, hey.”

No movement. You crossed the floor to him and gently nudged his shoulder; he gave the softest grunt, a light exhale of air, but didn’t move, didn’t respond.

“Hey,” you tried for a final time, shoving him a little harder.

He frowned and grunted again which satisfied you that at least he wasn’t dead and he was lying on his side so at if he threw up, he was less likely to choke on it. You looked idly around for something to write on, something to write with.

‘Yoongi,

I thought you were joking about killing me but I am actually dead; you really did it. 💀

I am never drinking with you on a work night ever again.’

You put the pen down and then immediately picked it up again, scribbling your name and phone number at the bottom.

‘P.S. please text me so I know you are not also dead’

Then you left.

You made it to the office with tremendous effort. You focused on breathing, first in and then out; you told yourself, like a new mantra: you made it through this second, you can make it through the next. One second at a time. A minute was too long.

You were late, late enough for it to matter, but you were there and that had to count for something. You deserved points for that at least. You could have just as easily melted into the subway or evaporated into the ether. You’d have preferred either. But you made it.

You first stop was the bathroom. You knelt down and lifted the seat, took a deep breath, then forcibly jammed your hand into your throat. You felt so sure that if you threw up even a little, you’d feel better. It had worked before; it could work again. However, no matter how you gagged, how your stomach heaved, it wouldn’t come. You couldn’t force anything up.

Drooling and crying, your knees complaining, you admitted defeat. You wiped your slobbery hand with some toilet roll and lowered the seat. You thought it couldn’t get any worse and then you pulled down your cycling shorts under your dress to you realise there was nothing beneath them. Where was your underwear? A cold sweat formed on your brow as you remembered yourself slipping them off, kicking them away, not picking them back up. You had left your dirty underwear somewhere in Yoongi’s apartment. You shuddered; you did not want to have to think about how that conversation was going to go.

You washed your hands and splashed your face with water and tried not to think about how this was just the start of your day.

* * * *

“Oh, babygirl,” Taehyung cooed as you approached your desk.

You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t respond. One second at a time. You curled into his lap and he jiggled you slightly to make sure you were secure; you whined as the motion made your head spin.

“You smell like a fucking distillery,” he told you, handing you a drink that was ice-cold and sugar-sweet. You drank gratefully, greedily, and said nothing. “Where did you sleep last night?”

You only groaned. You didn’t think you were capable of conversation but also desperately did not want to have this conversation with him right now.

“My girl, my girl,” he sang, “don’t lie to me. Tell me, where did you sleep last night?”

“Teddy, please. I want to be dead, right now.”

He sighed dramatically and swivelled his chair back towards his desk; he got on with his work and you tried not to throw up on him. He offered you snacks and you refused. He asked if you were going to do any work and you couldn’t answer him. He reminded you that the inter-departmental meeting was at 11am and you swore repeatedly.

“What are the chances of me being able to miss it?” you asked.

“About zero.”

“What are the chances of people not knowing I’m hungover?”

“Absolute zero.”

With another tremendous effort, you climbed out of Taehyung’s lap and into your own chair. You woke your computer and logged in, then you stared, unseeing, at the screen.

“Garam!” you called weakly, trying to beckon over your assistant without actually beckoning. You heard her chair roll and her head popped up over the desk divider.

“Yeah?”

“Any chance you fancy leading in the meeting this morning?”

There was a pause and you couldn’t swivel your eyes to see her expression. You were praying this was a surprised pause, a pleased pause.

“Uh, you want me to present?”

“If you feel you can, yes, please, that would be an enormous help. Though I realise I’m pushing this on you last-minute so please don’t feel that you ha-”

“I’ll do it!”

“You will?”

“Yeah, I can do it! Thank you!”

“No, thank you. You are doing me a real solid. Thanks, babe.”

A sigh of relief. You checked the time: 10:18. You had survived more than two hours since you woke up. Less than eight hours before you could go home and die as you wished. You made it through one second, you could make it through the next.

* * *

By lunchtime, you were feeling marginally better. Just human enough that you thought you might be able to eat something. You sent Taehyung out for ‘as much fried food as you can carry in your two hands, please, Teddy’.

“Here you go, princess; stuff yourself. And then you have to tell me everything.”

You nodded, already ripping open the boxes of fried chicken, sotteok, hotdogs, shoving a bit of everything into your mouth. Your hunger was suddenly overwhelming, a chasm in your stomach that you couldn’t fill quickly enough. Taehyung also brought back iced coffees and a Coke which you drank so fast that the burp that followed it almost brought your food back up.

“You are a vile creature.”

“Thanks, Teddy, I love you, too.”

“Come on, time to fess up. Where did you sleep last night?”

You gulped down your mouthful of chicken and paused.

“I mean, you already know the answer. I slept at Yoongi’s.”

His grin was triumphant as he thrust his two fists in the air.

“I told you! I told you he’d be a good rebound-fuck!”

You slapped him hard on the leg.

“Shut up! Be quiet! That’s not what it was!”

“Then what was it?”

You didn’t have an answer. It probably was a rebound-fuck. You didn’t really know. You hadn’t seen it coming.

“I don’t know, ok? I don’t know how it happened.”

“What do you mean? Surely you know what’s going to happen when a guy asks you to his apartment.”

“No! I didn’t! Last week, he didn’t even speak to me; how was I supposed to expect we’d have sex?!” you hissed, picking up a sotteok skewer and taking the biggest bite you could to put off speaking again.

“Did you want to have sex?”

You chewed slowly and went back in for another bite before Taehyung took the skewer from you and turned you to face him directly. He looked serious.

“Are you saying you didn’t want to have sex and-”

“No! God, no!” you cried through your full mouth. “It wasn’t like that.” You swallowed and took a sip of coffee. “Yes, I wanted to. I wanted it. I might even have initiated it, I don’t know. We were so, so drunk... I just... I don’t want to do it again. I’m not-… I can’t. I was right the first time; I don’t want to sleep with anyone.”

“Was it really that bad?”

You groaned loud and wanted to face-plant straight into your chicken.

“Shut up, Teddy! No, it wasn’t! It wasn’t bad! I just don’t want to sleep with anyone! I’m not-… I’m still not there.”

“Ok,” he replied with a shrug. “You don’t have to.”

“But I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what he thinks it was. I don’-”

“Wait, wait, hold on. I thought he had a girlfriend. What’s happened to her?”

“Oh, they broke up. She was cheating on him.”

“Ouch. Well, I can’t imagine he’s itching to get right back on the relationship horse, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t know what I’m worried about.”

“Bullshit.”

“Hey!”

“You don’t spend seven thousand hours a week in therapy so you can bullshit me with ‘I don‘t know’. I want the entire confection, please.”

You crossed your arms on the table and let your head fall into them. You secretly hoped that if you kept quiet long enough, he would let it go.

“I’m waiting, princess.”

When did Taehyung ever let anything go?

You lifted your head and rested your chin on your arm.

“I feel like I’m his ex-girlfriend and he is San.”

“How so?”

“They lived together and he was taking fucking baking classes so she could impress the people she worked with; he said she said he never did anything for her; he said he doesn’t know if she ever loved him but he was doing that shit anyway! San took care of me; he did so much for me that I’ve made it all the way to 26 without having to be a fully competent adult!-”

“You know he chose to do that.”

“And then he chose not to! And so did Yoongi. And they were both right. But I-” You paused to grit your teeth and growl, fists clenched on the table. “I can’t make it up to San but I can make it up to Yoongi.”

“So you want to be with him then? Have a relatio-”

“No! God, fuck no. No, no, no. I’m not there. I’m so not there. And my therapist says I’m not allowed anyway.”

“Oh, relationships 'aren’t allowed’ but projecting all over a man you barely know and have already slept with is a-ok?”

“She doesn’t know I slept with him.”

“And what’s she going to say when she finds out?”

“I hate you so much.”

“That does not sound like something a therapist should say.”

You put your head in your hands. Taehyung was right (as he usually was, but you were not going to admit that).

“If you don’t want a romantic relationship with him, how do you see this going? You think you can just be friends with a guy you see your ex-boyfriend in? Who’s clearly at least a little interested in you; the timing’s kind of suspicious, don’t you think?”

“What?”

“Well, he meets you and you force him to be your friend and then suddenly, apparently out of nowhere, he breaks up with his girlfriend?”

When you were discussing someone else’s life, Taehyung’s straight-forward, no-bullshit, tell it like he sees it attitude was ideal, perfect, so much fun; it was significantly less fun when directed at you. Ditto his perspicacity. Ditto his psychic powers of prescience which you had known him long enough to be convinced he had.

You were saved by the bell. The buzz, anyway, of your phone on the table. Messages received.

[13:37] 010-7391-6842: not dead

[13:37] 010-7391-6842: kind of wish I were haha

[13:39] 010-7391-6842: it’s Yoongi btw

[13:40] 010-7391-6842: are you ok? Still dead?

You dropped your head back into your hands and groaned. Taehyung took your phone from you and read Yoongi’s messages.

“Ugh, kind of wishes he were dead... He sounds like you.”

“Why do you think I like him so much?”

“Oh, you like him?”

“Not like that! You know what I mean! Stop being difficult!”

“Sounds like you’re projecting yourself onto him, too, babygirl.”

You kicked him under the table.

“Stop knowing me!”

You picked up your phone again to reply, but had barely started before you hit another obstacle.

“If I call him ‘babe’, is that going to mean something? Will that make it weird?”

“I don’t know; do you usually call him that?”

“Well, I don’t know. He told me that none of his exes ever used pet names with him so I said that I would, but that was before the sex so now I don’t know if it’ll mean... I don’t know, anything, or nothing, or something.”

Taehyung shrugged and picked up his own phone, answering without looking at you.

“I don’t know, babe; I don’t know the guy. And straight people are weird.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Besides, you don’t know that he’s straight. I don’t know that.”

“He slept with you so he’s straighter than I am and that’s all I need to know.”

You sighed at your phone and, in the absence of any actual brain power, you decided not to think at all and answer with whatever first came to your head.

[13:42] You: Yoongi! You’re alive! There I was thinking that –I- was going to be the one on trial for murder...

[13:42] You: Not that you’re off the hook. I’m barely hanging on here

You were sitting in your apartment, still nursing your hangover and waiting for Yoongi. You were tired; your head still span when you moved too quickly and you could not stop eating. You didn’t really want to see him. You didn’t want to have a conversation that involved the word ‘ex-boyfriend’; you didn’t want to have to explain yourself. You owed it to him to do so. The anxiety in your gut was allowing the nausea to resurface and you were reaching for your phone to tell Yoongi not to come, to eat your food himself, to chuck it away, who cared? Anything to not have to deal with it. But before you could even unlock it, the buzzer sounded. You let him in and sat and waited once more.

You heard him approach before you even heard him knock, the walls in your building thinner than air. You stood and opened the door just as he started to knock, opening it to see him, fist still in the air. He blinked quickly, eyebrows raised in shock.

“Oh, honey, you look like shit,” you said in way of greeting.

“Uh, thanks?”

“No, I’m glad!”

You ushered him into your shoebox office-tel apartment and took the bags from him, dumping them on the side.

“If you’d shown up here looking fresh and radiant, I’d have had to kill myself immediately. I’m glad we both look like shit.”

He laughed awkwardly.

“You don’t look like shit.”

“That’s so sweet of you, but you don’t have to lie to me.”

You grinned and he grinned back and you were determined to breeze over whatever awkwardness there might have been, whatever awkwardness there was. You peered into the bags he’d brought and pulled out your tubs of jjajangmyeon.

“Have you eaten?” you asked. “Want some noodles?”

“Oh, uh... I-”

“I did make this, but there was a recipe and a teacher involved and everything so I’m pretty confident it’s not going to be terrible.”

“Um, ok.”

You hadn’t even wanted him to come and now you were insisting he stay for dinner. You just needed something to do, something to occupy your hands, something to look at that wasn’t his face. His sweet, pale face, almost wan, a light bruise of purple under his eyes. But you weren’t looking.

You dumped two portions of jjajangmyeon into a pan and pulled out the makeshift dining table-cum-counter top and unfolded your foldaway stools.

“Sorry, this is not exactly luxury high-rise apartment living.”

“It’s ok. It’s nice.”

Silence settled over you and you wanted to fill it, wanted to make the anxiety in your gut go away; you knew Yoongi wouldn’t, so you had to. You reminded yourself that you were friends. That you were friends and you wanted to continue being friends, that was all. This wasn’t scary. It was Yoongi.

“So have you had the day from hell or was it just me?”

“It was pretty rough.”

“Tell you the one good thing about a hangover though. You can say you want to die as many times as you like and no one looks at you weird. But when I say it all the other times, ohh, suddenly it’s ‘don’t say that’ and ‘are you alright?’. You can’t joke about anything these days!” You hoped he knew you were joking.

He laughed softly.

“You do do it a lot,” he said. “Joke about dying.” He looked at you, maintaining eye contact, even as he blinked quickly.

“Yeah...” You continued talking without thinking, grateful that you had something to say. “The thing is I used to joke about it all the time, but it wasn’t a joke, y’know? I actually meant it. Whereas now, I can say it and not mean it and it makes me laugh.” You snorted. “It’s kind of life-affirming.”

Yoongi didn’t reply and you felt embarrassment creep up around your ears.

“Sorry, too much? I’m not at my best today so my filter is also not at its best.”

“No, no, not at all. I get it. I- yeah, I get it.”

You looked over at him and he lowered his eyes, frowning at his hands.

“Do... you?”

Did he really get it? You hoped he didn’t but there was a pull in your gut that said he did. That said he would understand. Understand you. There was something between you that just stuck. Held you there, closer to him than you thought you should have been. It was the thing that told you you had to be friends; you couldn’t let him walk out of your life. This was meant, somehow.

Taehyung would’ve probably told you it was projection.

Your therapist too.

He looked up and then away and then back to you, his hands still twisting together.

They were wrong.

“Yeah,” he answered and you let him pause, let it sit there, waiting for him to continue. He nodded. “Yeah, I do get it. I-…" He sighed and then nodded, as if to himself. “Yes, I do get it, but I probably ‘mean it’ more than you do when I joke about it.”

You nodded, your heart screaming at you to hug him, to hold his hand, to... you didn’t know what. To try to make it better. Even though you knew it didn’t work like that. The relief you thought you would feel knowing that he knew, too, that he understood, was entirely absent. In its place, a cold stone of concern. You wondered if this was how your friends felt, how San felt—had it been all the time? Only sometimes? Only on your bad days? You felt like you could see Yoongi’s little, soft heart and anxiety spiked in you as you thought about the conversation ahead.

“Thanks for telling me,” you said. You didn’t really know what else to say. Everything that came into your head was the last thing you’d ever want to hear.

He flicked his eyes quickly over to you and then away again.

“Yeah, I mean, you too.”

You shrugged.

“Eh, I’ll tell you anything. It’s getting me to shut up that’s the trick.”

You chuckled, a little pointless burble, and he didn’t return it. You glanced over at him and he was still looking at his hands, his fingers twisting around each other. Then he looked up at you, his eyes shining, mouth twisted.

“Would you go back to your ex if he came here tomorrow and said he wanted you back?”

The question threw you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about that exact scenario a thousand times in your head after the break-up but you weren’t expecting to be asked and, truthfully, hadn’t thought about it for a little while.

“Why?” you asked back. “Has your ex come crawling back?”

He laughed and you didn’t think you were imagining the bitterness in it.

“No. She hasn’t. And I wouldn’t have her if she did. I just... wondered.”

You sighed, looked into the pan of noodles on the stove, and thought about your answer. There was a lot to unpack, too much, far too much on top of the conversation you knew was still to come. You shook your head of all the difficult thoughts.

“No, I don’t think I would. I need to not be in a relationship right now. I’ve got things I have to do by myself, for myself. I’m not… there. Not ready. Not even for going back to one. And honestly? He’s never coming back.”

You plated up and sat opposite him at your little table. You could feel the pregnancy of the pause pressing heavily on you.

“Which, I suppose, is as good a segue as any,” you began, before taking a bite, chewing it slowly, hoping that Yoongi might start.

He didn’t. He swirled his noodles with his chopsticks and took his own first bite.

“Do we- we should probably talk about last night? Maybe?”

Yoongi nodded, looking down at his food. Then suddenly he looked up.

“This is nice, by the way. Tastes good.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Was he changing the subject deliberately? Buying himself some time? A shudder went through you as your mind began racing with all the things he might say to you, all the things you’d least have wanted to hear. You were no longer dreading what you had to say; you were dreading hearing what he had to say. You knew you couldn’t let him go first.

“So anyway-” You cut in, interrupting your own thoughts. “Like I said, I’m not ready for a relationship right now, but I also- I don’t want something casual. A hook-up. Situation...ship. Friends with benefits or whatever. I can’t do that. I need the commitment. But I’m also not ready for commitment. So. I don’t know. I mean, I do know. I really would like us to be friends. Just friends. I like you a lot. I’m glad we met and I like your company and I want to be friends, but I can only be friends. Nothing more.”

It wasn’t not true. It was all true. Now that he was here, you didn’t want to dump on him. He didn’t need to know all about your ex, your therapy; that was your business, your problem. You just wanted to be his friend. It was that simple. You’d extended your hand and every part of you was crossed, hoping he would take it.

You waited for his response, your stomach so tight with anxious anticipation that you couldn’t take a single bite. Your heart was pounding in your chest and in your skull; a dull ache formed behind your eyes in the long seconds that stretched between you.

Yoongi was looking into his noodles again. You saw him pause and then he continued eating. He nodded. Grunted.

“Yeah,” was all he said.

You waited for him to go on. To elaborate. To tell you something. You hoped this was just one of his pauses and you held your breath waiting for more. But nothing came. You were opening your mouth to say something—you didn’t know what—when the beep of your door lock sounded and your door opened. You stood, not expecting anyone, and were simultaneously relieved and made even more anxious to see Taehyung waltz through your door with pizza.

“Teddy! What are you doing here?” Your voice was tight and high-pitched and you cleared your throat, tried to make your face look normal.

He looked at you, then at Yoongi, then back at you. He raised his eyebrows.

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I told you I was going to bring pizza, so here I am, bringing pizza.”

“Oh shit.”

You had forgotten completely. In all the anxiety of Yoongi, it had slipped your mind; of course he’d said he’d bring pizza. You remembered now. Too late.

“Sorry, I forgot. We’re eatin- Oh. Uh. This is Yoongi. Yoongi, this is Tedd- Taehyung. He’s my best friend.”

“I’m her only fucking friend.”

“Shut up!”

You snatched the pizza from him and turned, walking to set it on the coffee table. You heard Yoongi’s mumbled greeting to Taehyung and you wondered what he was thinking. Sweat was prickling uncomfortably all over you. This was not a collision you had anticipated happening at all, let alone this quickly, let alone now, right this minute. But you were also grateful for Taehyung’s interruption. It cut you off, forced you to move, to think about something else. He had shown up just in time.

“You are terrible, you know that, princess? Cheating on me, letting me walk into your house to find I’ve been replaced?” He crossed the apartment in two long paces to stand in front of you and took your face in his hands. “The things I do for you and this is how you repay me?”

You pushed him away, flustered and embarrassed.

“Shut up, Teddy. I said I’m sorry I forgot. Just sit down, would you?”

You returned to the dining table and picked up your bowl.

“There’s not really room here for three but we can squish in if we sit on the floor,” you said to Yoongi and he nodded, standing and lifting his own bowl.

You pushed Taehyung over and sat next to him so Yoongi could sit at the end of the table and not get uncomfortably close to a man he’d just met.

“Can I eat some of your pizza, though?” you asked Taehyung.

“You’re an ungrateful swine and deeply lucky that I love you so much,” he replied, opening the box for you to take a slice. You grinned and blew him a kiss. He pressed one into your hair in return.

“How did you guys meet?” Yoongi asked.

“Ew, you make it sound like we’re a couple.”

You turned and punched Taehyung in the leg and fixed him with a sharp glare.

“Of course, we’re not a couple; don’t be stupid. He doesn’t think we’re a couple!”

“Not now, not ever. Gross.”

You gave him another punch.

“We met at work-”

“She was my assistan-”

“I was not! I was an assistant! And you were only a coordinator so you were barely above me. And now we work at the same level anyway.”

“I remember your first day. I thought you were going to be a complete square. You were so quiet—if you can believe that.” He addressed the last part to Yoongi and Yoongi very nearly grinned. “But I knew you’d be mine; I took you under my wing. It was like a-”

“A meeting of the minds.”

“Yep, both empty.”

“How did you two meet?” Taehyung asked.

“You already know, you idiot! We met at baking class.” You turned to look at Yoongi. “It was a meeting of the hearts, right? Both broken!” You laughed—a little forced—and held your hand out on the table for him to take, which he eventually did and then he looked at you, for the briefest second, and he looked so lost and then so grateful that your heart lurched and you felt tears sting in your eyes. You wished, not for the first time and not for the last, that you could read his mind. These seconds, these fleeting moments, when he fell open to you, when the quietest whispers of his reached you, that’s when you saw yourself in him. That’s when you knew that you were the same. That’s why you needed him.

* * *

Yoongi left and Taehyung stayed. You leant out of your apartment to wave Yoongi down the corridor and then you leant heavily against your closed door.

“So that’s Yoongi,” Taehyung said, sitting on the sofa, opening his arms to you.

“That’s Yoongi.”

You crossed the apartment and climbed into Taehyung’s lap.

“He’s cute.”

You only hummed in response.

“Did you tell him you want to be friends?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Yeah?’”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Did you tell him you left your underwear in his apartment?”

You sat up with a jolt.

“Shit! Oh fuck, no, I forgot! I got so stressed by the conversation, I forgot! Oh fuck oh fuck. He’s going to think I deliberately left it there! What if he finds it?”

“Obviously he’s going to find it. The more important question is what if he keeps it?”

You pressed your head against his chest and groaned. The man you had just insisted you couldn’t be more than friends with was going to go back to his apartment and find a soiled pair of your knickers and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

“I guess it might give you an answer, though,” Taehyung mused.

“An answer to what?”

“Whether or not he has feelings for you. If you never see them again, you know he’s kept them and is probably do-”

“No! No, shut up! Shut your whole mouth!”

You clamped both hands over his mouth, kneeling (you hoped painfully) on his legs, glaring at him.

“We’re friends! Just friends! He’s not going to do anything with them! Stop it! Stop saying things! It’s not like that! It’s not!”

He rolled his eyes and hummed in a tone that suggested he was not at all convinced. With a warning glance, you removed your hands from his mouth.

“Whatever you say, my little delusional baby.”

* * *

When you woke the next morning and set about tidying your apartment, you took out the tubs of frangipane tarts that Yoongi had brought and you had left on the side. You took out the tupperware you recognised and, below them, tupperware you didn’t. And a note on top.

They’re your favourite. Have mine too ˙ᵕ˙

You still felt awkward and unsure when you were standing next to Yoongi the following week, listening to your instructor teach you how to make muffins. He gave no indication that he felt it; he seemed much the same as he ever had. But there was an anxiety humming in your heart now; Taehyung’s words rattled in your head. And you had told your therapist and she did point out that maybe your attachment to Yoongi was not entirely healthy. You knew that, but you wanted to ignore it. Making Yoongi happy had become your road to redemption and you were going to follow it come hell or high water.

“You and Taehyung seem close,” he said lightly as he weighed out butter.

“He wasn’t lying when he said he’s my only friend. My ex and I, we met at work- not this work, my job before; we don’t still work together. Thank God. But we met at work so all our friends were shared, really. And I guess he gets them all in the divorce! Except Taehyung. Don’t really know what I’d do without him, to be honest. I’m trying-“ You stopped, hesitated, self-conscious again of talking too much, over-sharing, but Yoongi looked at you expectantly and you ploughed on. “I’m trying not be co-dependent, not to rely on him too much. It’s one thing when it’s your girlfriend, but when it’s just your friend—I don’t know; I ask a lot of him, I think. He’s there a lot. For me. I moved in with him right after the break-up before I found my apartment. It was awful and we should never live together again-“ You laughed. “But he was a real life-saver. I d-“

“Stop!” Yoongi cried, grabbing your wrist as you were stirring your muffin batter. You looked at him in alarm.

“What? I’m mixing!”

“You’re mixing too much!”

“What does that mean?”

You looked at the recipe sheet in front of you.

“Add dry ingredients and blueberries and mix. I’m doing it right!”

“No, you can’t stir it like that. You have to be gentle.”

You watched him as he moved his mixing spoon slowly through the batter, twisting and turning it, the white flour disappearing in a beige swirl.

“How do you know how to do it like that? I thought you couldn’t bake.”

He shrugged.

“I looked it up.”

“You study? You prepare for these classes?”

He shrugged again.

“Just want to get it right.”

You grinned.

“You’re a nerd.”

He grinned back.

“My muffins are going to be better than yours.”

You were sure they would.

* * *

“Do you want to get a drink after?” you asked as you pulled your tray of blueberry muffins from the oven. “We don’t have to go to my shithole apartment; I won’t subject you to that again.”

Yoongi chuckled.

“I thought you said never again?”

“Ha, I say a lot of things. And y’know, never say never!”

“I can’t tonight. But thanks.”

Oh.

“Oh. Ok! Another time!”

Disappointment deflated you slowly; your joy a tyre with a slow puncture. It hurt. It shouldn’t have. If you were stupid enough to get attached out of all proportion, then you had to at least be able to deal with the consequences of that. He was busy. He had other plans. That was all it meant.

Nevertheless, when you waved him off at the end of class, it was with a stone sinking in your stomach.

It sank heavier the next week when Yoongi didn’t show at all. You watched the door for half an hour, convinced he would come through it. He was always late. He’d show. He would definitely show.

But he didn’t.

You pulled out your phone.

[19:37] You: you’re missing class? It’s yakgwa!

[20:05] You: and I didn’t even bring any illicit ingredients this time!

[20:07] You: you’re missing a once in a lifetime opportunity to see me follow instructions properly!

You could hear Taehyung. You knew what he would say. ‘You’re projecting, babygirl. He’s busy’. You had to teach yourself that you weren’t the centre of anyone else’s life and that was ok. That was good; you were the centre of your own. That was why you were doing all this. That’s what had brought you to class in the first place.

But it had also brought you to Yoongi and you didn’t want to let this go. You were friends. He meant something to you. This meant something, you were sure of it. He wouldn’t just miss a class and not tell you. There had to be a reason.

[21:12] You: If you’re not careful, I’ll sneak into your apartment and make you try some

[21:12] You: [you sent an attachment]

[21:12] You: I didn’t do a good job 🙈

* * *

[08:13] Yoongi: sorry, I was working really late last night. Sorry I missed it. I hope it was good.

[08:13] You: are you coming next week?? You better!!!!

[08:27] Yoongi: yeah I’m coming

* * *

Except he didn’t. He had told you it was busy at work. He had told you he had been sleeping badly. He had only just broken up with his girlfriend. She had been cheating on him. His life didn’t revolve around you; it wasn’t about you. And you knew that. But you began to feel held at a distance and it pricked at you, painful and uncomfortable. Something wasn’t right.

You sat on the subway, tubs of profiteroles and tubs of mapa dubu on your lap. You took deep breaths and checked your phone. You hadn’t heard from him at all for three days. That was unusual. Sometimes he didn’t reply for hours, sometimes he didn’t reply at all until you sent another text. But you always heard from him eventually, within a day. You looked at your messages, six unanswered; the last two hadn’t even been read. You felt uneasy.

You remembered all of your worst days. The isolation. The hiding. You remembered telling him why you joked about killing yourself; you remembered all the jokes he made alongside you. He told you he got it. ‘I probably mean it more than you do’. You knew there was still a chance you were projecting. You knew this could be all in your head. You knew, in a sad, selfish, sick little way that maybe this was wishful thinking. That if this were the case, then maybe you weren’t the only truly broken one. It was a little voice, quiet and distant, and your concern was louder. But it was there all the same. Telling you that you weren’t alone. Not anymore.

You also knew that Yoongi didn’t have a live-in girlfriend anymore but you didn’t know if he had someone else who would take care of him. You felt about how lost you would have been on your worst days without your ex. Your dependence on him was a problem, but you remembered the palpable relief you felt when he was there with a physical ache in your chest. You thought about Taehyung, letting you move in, letting you sleep in his bed, cooking for you, cancelling dates so he could be with you. Did Yoongi have a Taehyung?

You got off at the next stop and changed lines. You sent Yoongi a text telling him you were coming. When you got out at the closest stop to his apartment, you tried calling him. No answer.

* * *

“I’m here!” you called out as you slipped off your shoes and padded quietly to the kitchen. You hadn’t expected the codes to work. He’d told you he would change them. He hadn’t. You didn’t know what that meant. Maybe nothing. But at the very least, it meant you could get in and you were here now.

You needed a second, one moment before you turned around to find him, to look at what you had walked into. You didn’t know if you wanted to be embarrassed by your wrong assumptions or right on the money.

You dumped your bags on the counter and turned around to see Yoongi’s face, just visible over the arm of the sofa as he stared at you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was quiet, croaky, as if he hadn’t spoken all day.

“I told you I was coming, love,” you countered. “I messaged.”

Yoongi flung out an arm and picked his phone up from off the floor and sighed, flopping back down and disappearing from view.

You walked over and knelt before him.

“You missed class.”

He rolled over onto his back and said nothing.

“Don’t think for a second I’m going to give you one of my profiteroles; I baked them myself and I’m going to eat them that way, too!”

You were joking, aiming for levity, landing somewhere far from that.

“Have you eaten?” you asked.

There was a reply this time: a shrug and a grunt. You looked at the empty snack packets on the coffee table and wondered how long they’d been sitting there.

“Well, lucky for you-” you stood and gathered the detritus as you spoke, “-I happen to be an expert amateur chef extraordinaire and we made mapa dubu today. Stay there.” As if he were likely to move.

You picked up as you made your way to the kitchen and pried open one of your tubs from class. You clattered about in his kitchen as you heated it up, looking for crockery, looking for cutlery, while he lay, unmoving on the sofa. You opted for the microwave, for ease and because it would create less clean-up. You stared pointedly at the tub as it rotated inside the machine. You were right and it was opening a deep fissure in your heart.

You chose to ignore it. Your feelings were not the issue at hand. It wasn’t about you. You turned your attention to the microwave (you always had been good at reheating food) and gingerly picked up the steaming hot tub to tip the contents into a bowl. You returned to the living room and handed it to Yoongi.

He sat up and took it from you more readily than you had expected him to and then he started eating. You didn’t want to sit and watch him so you went back to the kitchen to tackle the dishes in and around the sink. You recognised this. The external reflecting the internal. The mess. The neglect. Part of you felt vindicated: you weren’t just projecting; you were the same; he did get you. A bigger part of you wished he didn’t.

When you heard the unmistakable thunk of china on wood, you took a large glass of water over.

“You should drink all of that,” you told him, picking up the bowl and taking it back to the kitchen to clean.

“Do you want to talk?” you asked him as you perched on the coffee table across from him. He shook his head and lay back down on his side. “Ok, then, babe, budge up.”

You climbed onto the sofa behind him, slipping one arm underneath his neck and wrapping the other around his waist. You hooked your leg over his hip and held him tight. He held himself unnaturally still. You didn’t know if you were doing the right thing. You had never been in this position before. You were just doing what had always been done for you and hoping it was right.

“Does this make you uncomfortable?” you asked quietly and there was a pause before he shook his head.

“It’s embarrassing,” he said.

“Why?”

“I’m... I’m gross.”

You chuckled and pressed your nose into his neck, making him squirm. You remembered the smell of his aftershave, absent now, a light tang of a lived-in body in its place, the faintest ghost of laundry detergent clinging on to his shirt.

“Nah, sweetie, you’re fine. On one occasion, it had been so long since I’d showered that my ex ran a bath, picked me up and dumped me in it, clothes and all. It had been weeks rather than days, I think... It was also not just one occasion.”

You felt Yoongi unclench a little and you gave him a squeeze.

“When I finally made it out of bed – only as far as the sofa, mind – he would go out to work having lined me up food and drink on the coffee table. He would push the table closer so everything was within reach so I had no excuses—not that that always worked. Sometimes, he had to physically sit me up and spoon feed me... I just didn’t...”

“Care.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice that he did that. It sounds like he was good to you.”

You hummed and braced yourself for the question that you knew was coming next.

“Why did you break up?”

You exhaled, long and slow.

“I don’t know that there was just one thing. There was one reason, fundamentally, but lots of things led to it.” You used your therapy voice, slow and deliberate, not letting all your raw, unbaked thoughts drop out of your mouth in a tumble. Like you practised. “He was my safe space. We would go out and I would plaster on a smile and pretend to be happy and fun and positive and then, as soon as we got home, I would take it all off. When it was just the two of us, I didn’t have to pretend anything, which was a relief to me, but it meant that I was never really... happy, I suppose, around him anymore.”

You tried to will your heart to beat slower. You didn’t want Yoongi to feel it beating against his back, thumping hard. You could joke about killing yourself and pretend it was light, unserious. But you didn’t actually say the real truth, the plain truth, out loud. Not to anyone. You squeezed Yoongi tighter, for your benefit, not his, and continued.

“About a year after we got together, I tried to kill myself... He was... He was amazing, really. I don’t know how I’d have got through it without him. He really, really took care of me. Then last year—I didn’t try again, but I got about as close to it as I had been since the first time. And I think... it changed things for him. It was different that time. I think he saw his future ahead of him, always waiting for me to breakdown again, waiting for the sword to fall. He thought it was a one-time thing. I guess so did I, really; it’s not like I planned it. I don’t know.” You paused, feeling your mouth starting to run away with you. You took another breath. “He took good care of me just like he had before but... I think he was already falling out of love with me then. You can’t break up with someone in that state and be anything but the bad guy so I think he bided his time, waited ’til I was on my feet again to do it.”

You hadn’t said these things to anyone but your therapist. Taehyung knew everything but he pieced things together, he knew without you saying—you realised, at that moment, that it was entirely possible your ex told him things, so Taehyung could support you, maybe even so that Taehyung could support him.

Saying these things now, out loud, made them real. More real than they had been before. It was a shock to realise that the therapy was working, that you could see your relationship—and your break-up—more clearly now. It was even more of a shock to realise that you didn’t feel bitter anymore. Not towards him anyway. You had been saying for so long that you understood, that you didn’t blame him, that it was right, that the break-up was a good thing, you hadn’t realised that now you actually believed it, too.

“I don’t blame him. He deserves more than I was giving him, more than I could give him. I had been taking a lot and I don’t think I realised that at the time. He deserves to be loved fully by someone who can. I do, too, I suppose. And so do you...”

You gave him another squeeze and he brought his hands up, one clasped over yours, the other gripping your wrist.

“No one’s ever...” His voice is so quiet, you can barely hear it. “No one’s ever taken care of me before.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Your ex?”

He snorted and there was that familiar pause before he spoke again.

“It was good in a way. I couldn’t waste away in bed because I knew I had to be up and dressed when she got home. I had no other choice because she lived here so she would always know if I didn’t.”

“I don’t understand. Did she make you?”

“No… But- she… She didn’t like it if I didn’t… She thought I was being-…”

“Lazy?”

“Yeah. Weak. I don’t know.”

His grip on your wrist was tight, your pulse thudding under his fingers. You swore under your breath.

“I’m so glad you broke up with her. She sounds like a cunt.”

He hummed non-committally.

“Is that what’s brought this on?” you asked. “The break-up?”

He sighed but didn’t answer.

“Because, I mean, it’s not like I’m an expert or anything—I am literally in therapy; I don’t know shit but—you deserve more than she gave you. She was fucking cheating on you. That’s bullshit. She treated you like crap. That’s bullshit. You should be with someone who can actually see you for the person you are and treat you accordingly-”

“Maybe that’s what she was doing.”

“What are you talking about? She treated you like shit.”

“Right.”

You sighed and held him tighter.

“Baby... You’re not shit.”

You waited for him to argue and, when no response came, pressed on.

“You’re fun and sweet-”

You could feel him squirm as he pressed his face into the cushion.

“-and kind and generous and loyal-”

He drew the blanket over his face and gripped it tightly in his hands. He tried to sit up, tried to disentangle himself from your koala hold, but you held him firm.

“No, you’re not going anywhere,” you told him, your voice firm. “This is maximum-security, ok?”

“Maximum-security?” His question muffled from under the blanket.

You hesitated and then loosened your grip on him, resting your hand on his waist, unhooking your leg from over his hip.

“This is a cuddle.”

Then you reverted to how you were: your hands crossing on his chest, your bodies pressed tight together, your leg over his.

“This is a maximum-security cuddle,” you explained. “It’s nice. We like it.”

He didn’t protest, didn’t move, so you carried on.

“Anyway, as I was saying. You are kind and loy-”

“You already said that.”

“Yeah? Well, I think you can stand to hear it more than once. So you’re going to stay here and listen to this. You are fun and loyal and kind and generous and-“

A shudder ran through him and you could see the blanket twist in his hands.

“-smart and cute and funny-”

His shoulders started to shake; a small, stuttering gasp escaped him and you kept him tight against you.

“-and loving and determined and honest... and you will find someone who sees all of that stuff in you and will you love for it and they won’t make you feel like shit and they won’t care if you haven’t showered for a week and they will take care of you and-”

Yoongi brought his legs up, curling himself into a ball as tightly as he could.

“-they will love you and love you and love you, even when you don’t love yourself, even when you do. All the time. Always.”

You didn’t know what more to say, didn’t know if he was even listening anymore, if he could hear you. You held him tight and felt him cry as much as you heard him. His body shook and shook yours with it. You tried not to cry as he cried. You had to keep it together. You were done falling apart. But your heart felt so full and so broken. You weren’t used to being this person. You were Yoongi. You were always the one held, not the one holding.

You thought about your ex, holding you like this, every day, taking care of you, picking up after you, picking you up. You had always been grateful to him, but you hadn’t appreciated just exactly what it was he was doing for you; you didn’t have the wherewithal, the capacity for it at the time. But now you were here, doing what he had done, feeling how he had felt. It was overwhelming. It was an epiphany, a sad, tragic kind of epiphany that made your stomach swoop and your breathing hitch. You wished, intensely, for a moment that you could talk to him, tell him, thank him.

You also wished desperately that you weren’t there. That this wasn’t happening. That you hadn’t been right. You wished that you had shown up and Yoongi had been here, tired, working, grumpy, anything but this. You wished that he had been annoyed with you, told you off, told you get out. You would’ve taken that rejection over this. You would’ve taken almost anything over this. You knew Yoongi’s pain because it was your own and, more than anything, you wished that he didn’t. All this time you had been insisting that you were the same, that you understood each other, that you had a connection. And now you wished you’d been wrong.

* * *

He stopped crying. Eventually, at some point. You were watching the light in the room change as the sun finally disappeared, as the summer night came down, and the full moon rose. His breathing settled, his body stilled. He pulled the blanket back down, uncovering the top of his head. You waited for him to speak.

“I want to have a shower.”

His voice was thick, wavering.

“You’re not just trying to get away from me?”

He shook his head.

“No, I want to.”

He swiped a hand over his face, wiping away his tears, and you felt his body shift as he went to sit up. You let him this time. He didn’t look at you as he stood and walked towards the bathroom.

“I’ll be waiting,” you called after him. “You’re not allowed to drown yourself in there! I’ll check!”

You watched the door shut and listened for the sound of the shower running. Then you stood yourself and decided to clean the apartment. You tidied, sorted recycling, threw out the rubbish, wiped down the sides, swept the floors. You surveyed your clean kingdom and noticed the time. You noticed the silence in the apartment. The shower wasn’t running. You didn’t know when it had stopped.

You decided to give him five minutes. Five minutes and then you’d check on him.

“Yoongi!” you called from the bathroom door. “Are you coming out? The shower hasn’t been running. If you don’t come out in five minutes, I’m going t-“

The door opened a crack.

“I-“ he started and then stopped.

You waited.

“I don’t have any clothes in here.”

“Oh, do you want me to get you some?”

You could just see his eyes through the crack in the door, head at an angle as he held his body out of view. He shook his head.

“Can you… just…”

Quick to catch on for once in your life, you turned around, you faced the wall, you closed your eyes and, for good measure, you covered them with your hands.

“Ok,” you called.

You felt the steam pour out as the door opened and you stayed stock still until you heard his bedroom door open and then shut. You returned to the sofa to wait for him. He emerged, dressed in thin pyjama trousers and a long-sleeved top, with a towel in his hand, squeezing out his wet hair.

“Do you want me to plait it for you?” you offered.

He looked at you in confusion.

“What?”

“I can plait your hair if you want. You can get away with it being dirtier if it’s plaited and you can just keep them in, sleep with them and stuff, so they’re low maintenance. I do it all the time. No one has to know you haven’t showered for five days if you’ve got plaits in.”

“Is that why people style their hair like that? Because it’s dirty?”

“Can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, yeah. You know I’m having a bad time if I’ve plaited my hair.” You laughed and almost choked on it when he smiled back at you; the relief resounded in your chest.

He looked like he was considering it and shook his head.

“Great, in that case, I have another question for you.”

You walked back over to the kitchen, opened the door of the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a half-empty bag of cat food.

“Why do you have this?” you asked and, once again, Yoongi looked at you in confusion.

“It’s for my cat.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t! I’ve been here before! I didn’t see a cat!”

He shrugged and walked back to his bedroom; he opened the door and pointed vaguely at the bed. You stood next to him and saw a soft, black ellipse in the middle of the bed.

“That’s your cat?”

He nodded.

“I don’t understand. How can you have a cat? I’ve never seen it! I was here for ages!”

He shrugged.

“That’s her spot. You can say hello if you want.”

“What’s her name?”

“Cherry.”

You walked into the bedroom and said hello, tentatively reaching out to stroke her. Up close, you saw she wasn’t black—not quite—but a deep, dark brown; her fur was thick and soft as you ran your fingers through it. She uncurled herself and pushed her head into your hand, rubbing against it. Her purr was loud and deep. Yoongi joined you and scooped her up in his arms. She purred louder.

“Oh, do you like that, huh?” you asked her, your voice automatically high-pitched, soft, baby-ish. “Like being held by Daddy?”

Yoongi made a noise of protest.

“Please don’t call me ‘Daddy’ to my cat.”

“Why not? Oh my god, are you a daddy guy? Do you like that shit?”

“No! No… I just… It’s weird. She’s my cat.”

“Oh, Cherry,” you cooed, reverting to your baby voice, scratching her head. “Daddy doesn’t like it when you call him that, huh?”

“Don’t!” He was whining and laughing and you pressed on.

“But you like it when Daddy holds you, right? You like living with Daddy? You-“

“Oh my god, I regret everything!” He lay Cherry back on the bed and laughed. “I should never have let you meet her.”

“You’re probably right about that. Daddy.”

His face glowed warm and pink as he screwed his face up.

“Don’t!”

“Ok, I promise. No more ‘Daddy’.”

You held your little finger out to him and he hooked it in his own.

“Thank you.”

You shrugged.

“Sure.”

“For-… I mean, for coming... I... I appreciate it.”

“Oh. Sure. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to; you did say you were going to change your door codes.”

He chuckled, his eyebrows raised. You dropped backwards onto the edge of his bed and sat looking up at him.

“I had forgotten about that.”

“Just as well. I didn’t... I didn’t know if you’d want me to come; you may have noticed I kind of just get into people’s business. Teddy told me not to force my friendship on you-”

“It’s not forced,” he interrupted you, quickly, looking at you, blinking, looking away.

“Good. I mean, we broken-hearted losers have to stick together, right?”

He shook his head with a frown and dropped down next to you.

“I don’t think you’re a loser. And I don’t- I think... I don’t know if I am broken-hearted. Not over her anyway. It was... Even before she started cheating on me, I don’t know how real it was, if I was actually happy. I don’t... I don’t know how I didn’t notice that she didn’t make me happy. I’m not broken-hearted but I am stupid.”

You placed your hand over his and gave it a squeeze, then let go.

“Not stupid. In love.”

“Same thing.”

“Maybe sometimes, but not always. Love is good.”

You glanced over and he held your gaze. You lost count of the seconds ticking away between you; he didn’t look away so neither could you. You were arrested, held, your mind stalled; you wanted to break the silence but couldn’t think how to.

“I think,” he said finally. Then he sighed and turned away. “I think I love the wrong people.” He flopped backwards, lying on the bed with his arms flung over his head.

You twisted from your seated position to look at him.

“You only have to love the right one once, though, right?”

He looked at you and your eyes flicked elsewhere.

“But how do you know they’re the right one?”

"I don’t know; haven’t found ’em yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

He hummed and the silence fell over you again. You looked at the cat, curled up tight next to the pillow and were glad Yoongi had her. She couldn’t cook or clean or talk, but she was there and happy to see him and at least he wasn’t completely on his own.

“It’s really late,” he said, suddenly, and you jumped.

“Yeah, I should go. Sorry! Overstaying my welcome as always, haha!”

Should you? You had no idea what etiquette would dictate in these circumstances. You weren’t sure what Yoongi wanted you to do. You weren’t sure what you wanted.

“No! That’s not what I meant. I mean… You can-... if you want, you can stay. You don’t have to go.”

You looked at him carefully, trying to work out if he was asking you to stay or trying to be polite. If he wanted you to stay, you didn’t want to leave him. If he wanted you to go, you didn’t want to stay. You felt reasonably confident that he wouldn’t tell you clearly either way. You decided not to bite your tongue—you weren’t very good at it anyway.

“If I leave, are you going to wake up tomorrow?”

He flushed a deep, beetroot red and blinked, his mouth opening and closing silently.

“Yes,” he answered, hoarsely.

You held your hand out, little finger raised.

“Promise me.”

He slowly raised his own hand and hooked his pinky with yours.

“If I wake up tomorrow and you’re dead, I really will kill you,” you told him, deadly serious.

He tried a grin which only half worked and nodded.

“I’ll wake up.”

“Good.”

“Will you let me drive you home?”

“What? No! Why? It’s fine! You don’t have to do that!”

“It’s late-”

“Subway’s still running-”

“No, you shouldn’t get the subway by yourself this la-”

“I’ll be fine! I’ve done it before! It’s really fi-”

“Let me at least get you a taxi.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Too late,” he said, walking out to the living room and picking up his phone. “I’m already doing it.”

“You did not have to do that,” you repeated.

He shrugged.

“Least I could do. Will you please text me when you get home?”

“Will you text me in the morning?”

He nodded and you nodded back. He held your gaze like a silent promise and you nodded again. He looked tired and pale. He still looked sad. A little bit lost. A little bit broken. A lot like you.

His phone buzzed, breaking the tension of the moment, alerting him that the car was nearby.

He walked you to the door and you pulled him into a tight hug. You hadn’t expected him to, but he held you just as tight, squeezing the air from your lungs. You had second thoughts about leaving.

“I meant what I said. I will kill you-”

“Not if I kill myself first!”

You gasped and choked and laughed and almost sobbed.

“I’m joking,” he said.

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice strangled, your heart thudding erratically against your ribs. You knew you were going to cry all the way home and you needed it to not start until Yoongi’s door was closed and you were on the other side of it. “You’ve already promised.”

You held on longer than you really meant to. You pulled back slowly and kept your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

He nodded.

* * *

[00:58] You: Made it home!

[06:37] Yoongi: it’s morning

[06:37] Yoongi: I woke up

Chapter Two | Masterlist | Chapter Four

Tag list: @e-cm, @chimmisbae, @purplewhalewrites, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #bts x reader #bts fic #bts angst #suga x reader #suga fic

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wrecking · 10 months

Text

november!! weird month, but hey we got some good music. open for names and a little blurb about each one

olivia rodrigo - guts : basically guaranteed top 2 aoty at this point which is hilarious, but in my defense i am in my teenager era

studio killers - self titled : i refuse to use the "special edition" cuz it's literally just the album with one song swapped for a song that came out 5 years later so they could split their single off the album. idk why this has been resurfacing but it's quite good so hey why not right

jessica lea mayfield - make my heart sing : idk i'm in my grungy traumatized alt-country rock thing era and yeah this hits

hayley williams - flowers for vases / descansos : [ bolds the word "traumatized" in the last one silently ]

sigrid - the hype : this just kinda snuck up on me? really good pop hits we love to see it

be your own pet - mommy : surprisingly memorable! was kinda whelmed on first listen but it's very listenable and fun so hey

kesha - gag order : [ underlines the word "traumatized" from earlier ]

faye webster - i think i'm funny haha : starting to revisit a lot of music i stopped listening to around the time of my return in august 2022, so this record has become a solemn comfort item in a way, which is fitting i think

hiroshi yoshimura - green : stunningly poignant ambient record. has become a major force in my life fr

julia jacklin - pre-pleasure : [ circles the word "traumatized" ]

taylor swift - 1989 taylor's version : i really don't have any defense other than this album reminds me a lot of 2017, and with tears of the kingdom coming out earlier this year i was itching to revisit it in a new way. the fucked part is that three of her records could've been on here actually tho (this + red tv + midnights)

laurel halo - atlas : really really good ambient record. it sounds like the cover looks in the best way

boygenius - the record (+ the rest tbh) : finally coming back around to this and crying my eyes out to cool about it, what else is new

fiona apple - extraordinary machine : this one has just been floating in the background of the whole month for me. it's really good and underrated for her tbh

pearly drops - a little disaster : just so good. it's stim content to me i think

billie eilish - tv songs : [ adds stars around the word "traumatized" ]

hitsujibungaku - our hope : god this album is just so evergreen. can't wait for their new one next week wtf wait it's next week LMFAO

troye sivan - something to give each other : idk this has stuck with me quite a lot! not as good as BN or IAD but defs better than bloom imo. one of your girls is a classic already i just know it

carly rae jepsen - the loveliest time (+ the loneliest time) : this one finally came back around for me and god what a flawless (set of) album(s). she really said hold on i'm making bangers

ethel cain - preacher's daughter : i can't even prove i streamed this this month, but this album has been rattling around my skull the whole time.

oklou - galore : this one always just comes back at the most random times, but it's always welcome. it's like an old friend who's also a sparkling fairy

clairo - sling : [ just points at the word "traumatized" at this point because like do i even need to say it anymore ]

lorde - pure heroine : my winter sleeper hit, this album is so poignant. at least for me, each time i go back to it it grows richer i think. it's a kind of love letter To and From my youth in the same breath, and in this age of "ok but i'm getting older and things are changing but i also feel like a teenager again bc of the hormones but i also know things are gonna get drastically different soon" it's such a good comfort pick

maggie rogers - surrender : despite all the trauma above this, i do still have some fire left in me. [ the intro to either "want want" or "shatter" play ]

the volunteers - self titled : just a sleek good rock album. i love the vocalist and the songs are so good... stan immediately

no predictions bc i've been struggling to listen to music at all this month. i will return someday i swear

#d #m #hi its 29th mabel here i am in content hell i hope i'm ok now

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Hold On

Summary: This is based on the song "Hold On" from Chord Overstreet. After weeks and months of arguments, hurtful words and pain Spencer's daughter is convinced that this is the only option for both's happiness.

Warnings: attempted suicide (not specified how), hospitals, angst, sad, hurtful words, mean Spencer in the beginning

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

Loving and fighting, accusing, denying I can't imagine a world with you gone

The last few weeks weren’t easy in the Reid household. There is not one day, where no loud screamed arguments are thrown through the entirety of the apartment.

“(Y/N), you have to see things from my point of view, too! My job is demanding and I can’t be there for every little competition you have”, Spencer tries to reason with his daughter.

“I have to see things from YOUR point?! Little competition?! DAD! This was the math olympics and, mind you and your busy schedule, it was not the ‘petty’ school round. I went against people from the WHOLE country! Just- I- Sometimes it would be nice to feel like I have a father caring for me for at least an hour. But I see, your job is more important than your child.”

Her father looks at her, speechless. He didn’t know how far she came in that competition. (Y/N) hasn’t said a thing, didn’t make a noise about it. How is he supposed to know all that then?

“Just because I’m a profiler doesn’t mean I’m able to read your mind. Just try and cut me some slack here, I- I need you to understand how important the things I do are. Can you try to be a little less ignorant, please?”

It feels like Spencer has punched her in the guts. For years (Y/N) backed down, knowing that her father’s work is in fact important. He is saving life for crying out loud, but is it really that selfish to ask for his attention every once in a while? Ever since she is basically able to be on her own it seems like he stopped caring for her.

“Ignorant? Oh Dad, you really are an amazing profiler”, the teenager says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “You know what? Try and profile that!” She begins to walk out of the living room, showing him the bird. Seconds later her door smashes into the lock.

The joy and the chaos, the demons we're made of I'd be so lost if you left me alone

Is he really that bad of a father?

When (Y/N) was born, he swore to himself to be the opposite of his own. Spencer wanted to be there for his daughter any time she wanted him to. School dances, spelling competition, kindergarten graduation, the whole nine yards.

But when was the last time they did something as a family. From cooking and eating dinner together nearly every night they went to occasionally seeing the other at the breakfast table before heading out.

Spencer understands her now. He is not better than his father at the moment. He just missed a big event in his daughter’s life and blames it on her. He called her ignorant, even though he is the one that didn’t pay attention. The oh so amazing profiler forgot to show his child that he loves her. That she is more important to him than anything in his life. He needs her in order to function, her love is the only thing that motivates him to do anything.

He knows he has to talk to (Y/N) about it, he was wrong and mean. Spencer just wants to give her time to cool off.

Meanwhile the teenager sits on her bed, staring at the wall. He did it again. He said these hurtful words. Tears stream down her face, but she is numb to them.

Everytime he calls her something, (Y/N) memorizes it. She doesn’t have an eidetic one, but when it’s about mean things, everybody has an elephant’s memory.

Ignorant.

Selfish.

Egoistic.

Childish. And many more.

And her father is right. She is all of the above and so much more.

Maybe he is better off without her. Better off without having to act like he cares for her.

She is a burden, she knows that. Her mother knew that from the beginning, why else would she have left them? Left her? Nobody’s life wouldn’t be better, if she isn’t in it anymore.

(Y/N) thought long and hard about this. Tonight just confirms her thoughts and boostes her decision.

Quietly she makes her way over to the bathroom, locking the door without making a noise. Hidden under towels is her little box. The contents she complained about using for so long.

You locked yourself in the bathroom Lying on the floor when I break through I pull you in to feel your heartbeat Can you hear me screaming? Please don't leave me

Twenty minutes have passed since (Y/N) smashed her door. Spencer hopes it is enough time for a teenager to cool off. He knocks on her door, waiting for an answer.

Nothing.

He tries again.

Nothing.

“Sweetheart? May I come in?”

The silence is louder than any gunshot he heard.

“Sweetheart, I want to apologize. May I open the door?”

Still nothing.

Spencer enters the room, finding it vacant. Oh of course, the moment he wants to talk with her she is in the bathroom. The Reids always had a thing for timing.

He knocks at the bathroom door. “Sweetheart, are you in there? Of course you are. Dumb question. I- I want to apologize. What I said wasn’t right and it was hurtful. Can- can you come out? There are a few things I have to make right.”

To his bewilderment there is no answer. No noises. A whole lot of nothing. This scares Spencer. “(Y/N), please say something. I care. I do. I love you, please answer me”, he desperately says.

Still no answer.

Spencer feels like he doesn’t have a different choice. He takes a step back and a deep breath, remembering what Derek taught him. With a loud crash he kicks the door open.

There she lies. His child. His daughte. The one human he promised to protect no matter what.

Her body lifeless, a small box next to her. Spencer identifies the contents immediately. His heart drops faster than he thought it to be possible.

In an instant he kneels next to (Y/N), pulling her in. His hands are shaking as he tries to take her pulse. “No no no no. NO! (Y/N), baby please open your eyes. Don’t leave me, no! You can’t do that, I love you, I love you so much. Don’t leave me, I need you!”

Hold on, I still want you Come back, I still need you Let me take your hand, I'll make it right I swear to love you all my life Hold on, I still need you

(Y/N) is in and out of consciousness. The dark seconds are terrifying to her. She regrets her choice.

In the seconds she is conscient, she hears a warm voice. The teenager feels safe now that it is there. At first the voice is quiet and blurry, but she is still able to catch a few words.

“Don’t” “Me” “Love you” “Much” “Need”

As her body finally slips away, she feels at ease. These words, it feels like lotion on her wounds. Because she also loves the voice and its person. She needs them like they need her.

Long endless highway, you're silent beside me Driving a nightmare I can't escape from Helplessly praying, the light isn't fading Hiding the shock and the chill in my bones

Spencer acts quickly. He knows his daughter doesn’t have much time left. He picks her up, trying to grab as many important things on his way out as possible. The genius runs to his car, hoping and praying to all the gods above that it will work after months of not using the vehicle. The motor does turn on to his relief.

The drive to the hospital feels longer than any roadtrip Spencer ever went on. The seconds tickle down and just like that (Y/N)’s chances. Chances of a happy ever after with him in her life, hopefully.

Not once does she move, her body looking more like a doll than a human being. Spencer just prays that it won’t be like this for long. He needs her, the light of his life. She can’t fade, she is not allowed to. It will break him. Darken his own light.

He has to be strong now. The glass is half full, the hospital only a few minutes away. (Y/N) will make it. Spencer doesn’t have any other option than that.

They took you away on a table I pace back and forth as you lay still They pull you in to feel your heartbeat Can you hear me screaming? Please don't leave me

“I need a doctor! A nurse! Somebody! My daughter, she-” Spencer screams, entering the ER with her lifeless body in his arms. He can’t end the sentence. But it’s also not necessary. A whole team of people crowd around the young man, one of them pulling a stretcher behind him.

Reluctantly Spencer lowers (Y/N) on it, knowing that he can’t do anything more. His child’s fate lies in the hands of the medical staff now. He has to trust them with her. With his lifeline.

One doctor takes her arm, trying to take a pulse. He shouts something, but Spencer’s ears are deaf to his words. Everything goes silent as they pull her away. Away from him.

He falls to his knees as reality hits him. He may not be a father any longer. And it’s his fault and his fault only.

“Please don’t leave me”, Spencer whispers.

Hold on, I still want you Come back, I still need you Let me take your hand, I'll make it right I swear to love you all my life Hold on, I still need you

Lights flash her. They hurt her eyes. But there is a greater pain (Y/N) can’t locate where it’s coming from. Where is her father? She needs him. She has to apologize. There are so many things she wants to say to him. To reassure him that she knows her decision was wrong.

As people continue to scramble around her, the pain intensifies. It becomes nearly unbearable and stops suddenly. The last thing she hears after a shrill high pitched tone is the voice of her father.

“I love you.”

I don't wanna let go I know I'm not that strong I just wanna hear you Saying, "Baby, let's go home" Let's go home Yeah, I just wanna take you home

“Family of (Y/N) Reid?” A doctor asks into the waiting room, looking exhausted. Spencer looks up from the floor. He memorized every little bump while pacing back and forth. He hasn’t called anybody. He doesn’t want to alarm then, not now. The young doctor needs time to understand what’s happening.

“Is she breathing?” is his first question. The doctor's face takes a pitiful look. “We stabilized her. But (Y/N) is still not through. We can’t say if she makes it through the night. If she does, we are sure she will be on a good way to a full recovery. Tonight will be critical for that. But (Y/N) showed us she is a fighter, maybe the chances aren’t that bad.”

Spencer is led through several halls to her room. He sits down in an uncomfortable hospital chair next to his daughter’s bed. Her hand is cold against his warm one. His are still shaking as he brushes a strand of her hair out of her face.

The only thing that Spencer wants right now is for (Y/N) to open her eyes and ask him to go home. He wants to take her there so desperately. But he can’t. Because he is the ignorant one.

“Hold on, I still want you Come back, I still need you, Sweetheart”, Spencer says, pressing a kiss onto her knuckles.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

@ellyhotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x teen!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #x teen!reader #x daughter!reader #tw: suicide #Spotify

515 notes · View notes

just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Text

The Innkeeper's Daughter

Thank you sooooo much to @fandom-blackhole who let me take inspiration from This Ask for the original Anon and This follow-up Ask from me, and let me run wild with the premise of Pero Tovar falling in love with an innkeeper.

This one is for @silverwolf319 who sent me a request for "Ummmm...how about soft, sweet filthiness lol like, filthy dirty talk, but with feelings? Does that make sense?"

Saaaammmmm, I hope this delivers on that! 💜💜💜

Update: Part 2 is here!

Word count: 3200+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Pero Tovar x “You” (OC cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: mature language; euphemisms; one use of “whorehouse” and “whore”; slow-burn; yearning; one incident of bar violence; Pero Tovar unleashing his desires verbally; lots of dirty talk; kissing; one breast grope; one erection; everyone’s clothes stay on

The first time you saw the grumpy Spaniard smile was a busy Saturday evening. Your father’s inn was full, the barroom filled with groups of raucous and rowdy men singing traveling songs and reminiscing loudly about battles won and women lost. The contrast between the exuberant hordes and the quiet, scowling man was evident to everyone, but they left him alone to brood.

“The Spaniard” had arrived in the early hours of Thursday morning and disappeared into his room immediately, sleeping the day away until supper. He kept to himself in the barroom, taking over a small table in the corner, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on the other guests. He graced you with eye contact exactly once during Thursday’s supper, nodding at you to indicate his thanks for the ale before tucking his head back down to eat.

You knew from your two decades behind the bar that the quiet ones could sometimes be dangerous. But your father was much more concerned with the inn’s revenue and suppliers, and brushed off your questions with a wave.

“The Spaniard is quiet and doesn’t seem interested in starting trouble. He’s paid for his room in advance for the week. If he wants to be left alone, leave off.”

The Spaniard did not appear on Friday for the midday meal, but he did come back for late supper, repeating Thursday’s pattern exactly; a seat at the small table with his back to the wall, scanning the room from under his brow, a flash of eye contact to you as wordless thanks when you set down his plate and and the ewer of ale. The rest of the customers were settled for the moment, and something made you bolder than you would normally be, choosing to linger and try to break into the hard shell he wore like a cloak.

“Care for anything else? I have honey cakes set aside from the baker if you would like one.”

He grunted, a noise that was neither a yes nor a no. You weren’t sure if you should take offense or be happy that he made noise at all.

“What’s your name?”

He stopped chewing at that, and raised his eyes to yours, holding your gaze with his own deep brown orbs. The scar that ran over one eye was almost delicate, tracing a line from eyebrow to cheek that told a story of pain and must have resulted in him nearly losing the organ. You had seen many men disfigured and maimed by war and by accidents; but his scar was almost beautiful, highlighting his features in a way that made him more handsome, not less.

He swallowed roughly and grunted again. “Tovar.”

“Tovar… is that all?” You smiled wryly, hoping to pull more secrets out of him.

“Pero.” He grunted again, but this time it nearly resembled full speech. “Pero Tovar.”

He tucked his head back down and shoved more food into his mouth. You took that as your cue to go back to the bar. If he was staying all week you could wait until Sunday when things quieted down, spend a few days slowly probing. You got the sense he wasn’t dangerous, at least not to whoever brought him food and ale. You let yourself be distracted serving everyone else, and when you looked for him at the end of the night he was gone. You tried to ignore the little pang of disappointment that bloomed in your chest.

Saturday dawned clear and sunny, and you rose early to do the marketing for the inn and for your little household of two. Your mother had passed many years before, and your father prided himself on running an honorable establishment. You may have spent your formative years behind the bar of the inn, but nobody in the village mistook you for anything save an honest innkeeper’s daughter. The whorehouse was at the other end of town.

You finished your marketing and returned home, planning how to combine fresh eggs with leftover bread and meat for the midday meal. Most guests of the inn came for the late supper, but a few showed up for the midday meal and some companionship. You hoped Tovar would be one of them, but given that he had skipped the midday dinner on both Thursday and Friday, you didn’t dare hope too much.

To your great surprise, Tovar was already in the barroom when you arrived. He was dressed casually in tunic and pants and was standing on a table under the main beam, helping your father reattach the lantern. The chain had been broken for a few weeks, leaving this part of the room dark. Neither you nor your father had made time to obtain a ladder and fix it yet, but apparently for Tovar no ladder was needed. His tall frame was stretched up, arms raised to reach for the chain dangling from the ceiling, and his tunic lifted just enough to show a band of bare skin over his hips. The sight of him nearly made you drop your baskets.

You recovered your senses and looked away, greeting your father as naturally as you could. When you lifted your eyes to greet Tovar, you swore you saw the ghost of a smirk cross his lips. You hurried to the kitchen to prepare the midday meal.

When you dared to return to the bar, your father had gone, and Tovar was seated at his usual table. He lifted his eyes quickly to your face and you found that you could barely speak. Your words emerged in a breathy rush. “Are you hungry? Would you like to eat now?” You cursed your nerves and tried to settle them. Where were the other guests? Why was nobody else coming down to the bar?

Tovar looked at you sternly from under his brows and you suddenly felt like a child, caught for doing something naughty. But his next words made something in your middle turn over, fluttering like a moth.

“No. Sit with me a while.”

You sat. You were not accustomed to taking orders from strange men in your father’s establishment, but you rationalized it by telling yourself that attending to guests was good for the inn’s reputation, and that you would spring up and take care of any other guests as soon as they entered. You ignored the little whisper of lust that was suddenly at the base of your spine, tickling up like a trail of smoke from an extinguished candle.

“Tell me your name, woman.”

His question shocked you, until you realized that you hadn’t yet given it to him, and apparently neither had your father during their repair work. You opened your lips and spoke your own name, and under Tovar’s intense gaze it felt strange and foreign. He repeated it back to you in his sonorous tone, turning the fluttering moths in your center into lightning bolts.

“Are you enjoying your stay with us? Is there anything you need for your room?”

That half-smirk graced his lips for another moment, then passed away so quickly you were almost sure you imagined it. He shook his head, “No.”

You let the silence hang. Why had he asked you to sit with him if he wasn’t going to converse? Your stubborn streak won out over your curiosity and you decided to hold his eyes with your own and wait him out. Seconds stretched into minutes, and the air between you became heated, suffused with something like the vapors that distorted the air above a fire. Your hands grew moist, and you rubbed them across your lap, hoping the apron would absorb both the sweat and your discomfort. Tovar continued to look at you with interest, and the longer he stared the more you felt your face burn.

You broke first, bending your head and taking in a great shuddering gulp of air. Just then a footstep fell on the threshold and you leapt out of your chair and swept into the kitchen. When you calmed yourself and finally emerged, Tovar was gone. You let yourself get entwined in the gossip and the rhythm of your normal serving of guests, listening to the friendly chatter. By the time the bar was clear again, you decided to take yourself up to your room and rest, to conserve your energy for the busy Saturday night crowd. Saturday late supper consisted of cold leftovers and mug after mug of ale. The crowds were usually boisterous but good-natured, and you were looking forward to seeing Tovar again.

When you woke from your nap the sun was kissing the horizon, and you freshened your dress, changing into one of your nicer ones and a fresh bodice, tying a clean apron around your middle. You scrubbed your face with a wet cloth and rearranged your hair. You felt like a maiden heading to the altar, but you weren’t sure why. Nothing that Tovar had said or done so far gave you any indication that he favored you that way. There really was no need to change into clean clothing or present yourself in any special garments. Still… there was that hope, that whisper of lust that had sprung up under his gaze this afternoon. Maybe he would notice your efforts and begin to take an interest.

You entered the bar and began getting ready to serve the Saturday night crowd, handing around ewers of ale and plates of cold buns and cheese. The inn not only had a dedicated stream of locals every Saturday, but it also tended to draw groups of visitors from some of the smaller towns, as well as travelers on the road who needed a room for the night. You tried to keep your eyes on your work, but they kept flitting to the doorway without your permission, seeking any trace of the grumpy Spaniard and flickering the hope in your gut when they didn’t see him. As the barroom filled, you wondered whether he would appear at all. You pushed all hope of seeing him down, stomping on it and trying to keep yourself focused.

You hurried to the kitchen for another round of buns, and when you emerged into the bar he was there, sitting at “his” table and scowling his usual scowl. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and you felt your face heat with desire. When Tovar saw you his face opened, and the first genuine smile you had ever seen painted his lips. The rest of the raucous room fell away, and you zipped straight to his table, depositing the plate of buns that had been intended for someone else.

“Hello Pero.” You bit your lip, never having addressed him with his name before. Was it too forward?

“Hello, mi-” he stopped himself, then said your name, almost reluctantly. Had he forgotten it in the few hours since you had seen each other last?

You smiled tightly, a little less warmly than before. Icy flakes swept over your girlish crush and your ardor cooled. If he had already forgotten your name, he must not be interested. “Ale?”

He nodded. “Yes… if you please.”

Your thin layer of ice melted. A “please” from this man was like high praise from anyone else. You nodded and went to the bar, filling an ewer and a mug, and delivering both to his table. You wanted to linger, but calls from the other side of the room interrupted any notion of getting to spend more time with Tovar.

You nodded once at him and departed, taking care of the other guests and helping your father lug another barrel of ale from the back. Every time you dared glance at Tovar he was watching you, gentle interest and curiosity issuing from his eyes, instead of the menacing scowl he had sported when he first arrived. You tried to focus on your usual tasks, letting the rowdy laughter of the bar patrons wash over you, but you could feel Pero’s eyes on you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at him again and again, far too often. Your distraction was probably the reason that disaster struck.

Your eyes were again on Pero as you made your way across the room, and your toe caught the edge of someone’s foot, causing you to stumble and spill a mug of ale all over a large man. He bellowed in anger. You saw that he was a stranger, and as he unfolded himself from his chair and stood up, you could see that he was twice as broad as you and nearly two heads taller. The ale soaked his tunic and dripped onto the floor.

Before you could open your mouth to apologize, the man raised his hand to strike you. Suddenly his furious face crumpled into pain. He fell to his knees in front of you, the raised arm now twisted behind his back. As his knees hit the floor, Pero’s face materialized behind the man’s shoulder. Pero’s trademark scowl was directed at the back of the man’s head as he hissed instructions to the stranger.

“Apologize to the woman.”

The man spit out a curse and then refused. “She’s a whore!” Another wail of pain issued from his open mouth as Pero twisted his arm up and back.

He leaned down and spoke into the man’s ear, so low that you almost couldn’t hear it. “Apologize.”

The man dropped his head to his chest and whined out a stream of words that included several “sorrys” and “my mistakes”. You looked at him, eyes still wide with shock, mouth frozen into a grimace. Pero looked at you and then gave the man’s arm one final shove. A sickening crack met your ears and the man groaned as he fell forward onto his face.

“Now leave! And do not come back.” The man and his companions scrambled to the exit, and the rest of the customers murmured to themselves as they returned to their own drinks and gossip.

“Mi alma, are you alright?” Pero reached his hand out to you and you shook your head, tears springing to your eyes.

You spun on your heel and ran out of the bar, turning to flee to the back hallway, hands shaking. You pressed your back to the wall and then bent over at the waist, trying to catch your breath. You had seen bar fights before, and broken up a handful when they happened here and there, but you had never seen violence like that up close. You had never seen such hatred on a man’s face as the anger that had colored Pero’s features. You had the sense that Pero would have gladly killed the man and not had a second of remorse.

You heard a foot scrape the floor and you shot upright. Pero was at the end of the hall, eyes flickering in the light from the lone candle on the table. He put both hands out to you, palms facing you in a gesture of openness, approaching one slow step at a time.

“I am sorry. I am sorry.” His voice was low and calm. “Please forgive me.”

“No,” your own voice sounded high and panicked to your ears. “Stop. Don’t hurt me.”

Pero’s face crumpled and he halted his approach. “Hurt you? No, never. I would never hurt you. Please believe me.” He took another step toward you.

“But that man- You, you broke-”

Pero interrupted your awful cry. “Ssshhh, no. No, mi alma. That was not a man. He was a beast. I made him apologize and leave.”

Pero took another step, closing the distance between you to one stride. You were surprised to see tears in the corners of his eyes as well.

“I thought I was saving you, mi alma. Protecting you.”

“You did, you protected me, but- How were you so fast? And why do you keep calling me ‘mi alma’?”

Pero closed the final distance between you and reached his hands out to hold both of yours. He stepped close, and you had to tilt your head back to look into his eyes.

“I love you. You have enchanted me. ‘Mi alma’ means my soul. It means you have my love and my heart.” He looked deep into your eyes. “... and my body, if you so desire.”

He inclined his head and his lips met yours. You felt your head spin, heart pulsing through every vein, pounding in your ears as you let yourself be kissed, over and over again. You had kissed boys before, and even one young man in the village, but this was like being kissed for the first time anew. Pero kissed you with passion, with intent.

His hands gripped your waist and held you to him as your fingers entwined themselves up into his neck and the hair at the back of his neck. Pero broke the kiss and leaned toward your ear. His voice was low and gravelly, striking something in your core and sending sparks to your throat.

“I fell in love with you today. When I caught you looking at me as I changed the lantern. When you sat with me and met my eyes with your own and you didn’t shy away. When I saw that you had changed into a new dress, had made yourself pretty just for me.”

Your breath left your lungs in a huff, and the only sound you could make was a low hum.

Pero continued whispering words and warm breath across your ear, sending shivers down your neck, making your nipples harden with desire.

“I will take care of you, mi alma. Let me take you to bed and show you everything that you need to know. Let me show you how to make love to a man, to please him. How to take a husband and take your own pleasure, too.”

“Ohh…” You hardly recognized your voice as your own, and before you could say more, Pero kissed you again, opening your mouth and slipping his tongue inside. He pressed his hips against you, pinning you to the wall. You could feel his hardness against your hip; but instead of scaring you or making you feel ashamed, it stoked the fire in you from a flame to an explosion.

You kissed Pero back, as hard and as eager as he had kissed you. And then you did something you never would have imagined: you reached behind your waist and grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand up to cup around your breast. He squeezed and thrust his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans and squeaks.

He broke the kiss again to suck and nip at your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Every kiss inflamed you further, and you pressed your hips against his, rubbing from side to side to feel his hardness through the layers of your skirts.

“Let me take you to bed, mi alma. Let me make love with you.” Pero’s voice dropped to a low rumble. You could barely hear him above the thrum of your own heartbeat, but the words sent a new rush of something hot and wet to your private area.

“Let me kiss you between your legs, to taste you. Let me show you everything I know. Let me have you, and you may have me… all of me. Let me love you, mi alma.”

Your mouth opened and you spoke the only true answer to his request.

“Yes, Pero. Please.” --- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

My “all fics” tag list:

@anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul

@kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @quica-quica-quica @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001

#Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x you #pero tovar x fem!reader #The great wall fic #the great wall fanfiction #Pero Tovar fic #Pero Tovar fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #Pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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please-buckme · 3 years

Text

A Broken Heart.

Chapter 1

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of sex, 18+,hitting, sad shit, break up, heart break, angst, cursing

Chapter Summary: reader and Lee breakup.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 //Chapter 3

The world felt as if it were shattering around you, crumbling beneath your feet like the rapture was upon you. Honestly, if the world did come to an end right now you’d be elated. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with your broken heart anymore.

You sat against a wall in your room, wallowing in your own self petty. It’d be three days since Lee Bodecker had broken things off with you. He had said that you were hurting his campaign, that he still loved you but needed a woman of power to help him become sheriff of this godforsaken town.

Lee had taken you out in the same field he took you to every time y’all made love. He kissed you so passionately, held you so closely. If you weren’t so caught up in the way his hands felt against your bare skin, you would’ve noticed how distraught he was the entire time he made love to you. It was his way of saying goodbye before he actually said goodbye. After he’d broken up with you, you felt disgusting and violated.

You’d never felt like that with Lee. He was your deputy and sinner in disguise. He was your rock and your soft place to fall. When the tears finally fill, the most empty feeling you’d ever felt emerged in your gut. One day you thought you were gonna be Mrs. Lee Bodecker. You daydreamed constantly of your wedding day and sharing a bed with the man you loved for the rest of your life ‘til you were old and gray. To know now that dream will always remain a dream.. that’s what hurt the most.

After Lee drove you home, you sat in your room for three days straight, not even coming out for supper. Your momma tried to convince you to eat and it worked once on the second day, until you threw up right after.

She didn’t understand. She’d never been in love, not really. Not love like you and Lee had. People told y’all all the time how rare and beautiful your love for one another was and you agreed. Just looking back on those memories made you sick. You listened in awe of how beautiful your love was not knowing Lee would only break your heart days later.

Today was Sunday, the lord's day, and usually you never wanted to go to church, but today you really didn’t want to go. The whole town, including Lee and his new arm candy, would be there. It’s the first time you’d be seeing Lee since he dropped you off. It was too soon, especially since you knew he’d already moved on.

As you sat with your head between your knees, your momma barged through your bedroom door.

“Jesus, girl. Why aren’t you up and ready to go? Church starts in an hour and you aren’t gonna make me late again.” She stomped over to your closet and shuffled through your dresses.

“Momma.. I- I’m not ready. I can’t see… him with her. I just ain’t ready for that kinda humiliation.” You sighed, trying to reason with your Bible-thumpin momma.

“Oh, no. You’ve embarrassed me enough this week. Disappearin’ for three whole days over a boy? You’re pathetic. You know, back in my day, we didn’t get to sit around and sulk the days away. No. We had to carry on like everything was fine and that’s what you’re gonna do. Now, get dressed.” She threw you a dress, one of your favorites actually. It was a teal blue, babydoll dress that you usually saved for special occasions, but you weren’t feeling very special at the moment and now you were just pissed off.

You stood and came face-to-face with your momma, “I’m not going. You have no idea how I feel. You can’t. You’ve never felt love the way we had it, Momma. No one ever loved you or me the way I love Lee. You couldn’t possib-“

Just then you felt a sharp sting against your cheek as your momma slapped you across the face.

“Not. Another. Word. You will be dressed and waitin for me at the car in ten minutes. No poutin’ and no sulkin’ in the pews. I don’t wanna hear another word about that boy.” She turned to exit your room but turned around to give you one last dig to the heart, “And, honey, a man in love would never have done what he did to you. Remember that next time you wanna preach to me about love.” With that she left your room. Your cheek still stung from the unexpected hit to the face. Your momma was cruel but she’d never hit you before.

The slap, in a way, was kind of refreshing. For a split second you’d totally forgotten about Lee. Only for a second, though. His crystal blue eyes and cheshire lips never leave your thoughts completely. You shook your head in defeat, trying to erase him from your mind. It didn’t work, but you took a deep breath and began getting ready.

The church parking lot was full when you and your momma pulled in. Rickety old trucks to brand spankin new, brightly colored cars littered the dusty lot. You spotted Lee’s car immediately, thankfully he was already inside.

The whole town came to this church, which wasn’t that many people. Nevertheless, everybody knew everybody and, even if you didn’t care, everybody knew everybody’s dirty laundry. Old Man Karl got pulled over last week for a DUI, Nancy from the library cheated on her husband with his brother and.. oh yeah, Lee Bodecker dumped his long time girlfriend for the mayor's daughter.

Lee and yours breakup was the talk of the town. You were the fresh, new gossip in this boring as hell town and there’s nothing you could do about it.

You couldn’t get two steps into the church without being bombarded by women you didn’t want to know but also knew too much about, asking if you were alright and that they’d pray for you on this ‘beautiful, glorious Sunday morning’. Yeah, same shit different day, different person.

One woman stayed to chat with your momma, so you went to find your seat. Your usual spot was next to Lee and naturally that’s where you headed, only to be greeted by Lee and His new girlfriend, Laura-Jean Mancon. She was one of those girls who’d been pretty her whole life. Blind hair, blue eyes and a huge rack. Everybody thought she’d go into modeling or start an acting career but she never did. Instead, she stayed and was now going to marry Lee. In your eyes, that’s the best path she could’ve taken. You’d take her place any day.

“Mornin’ Y/n.” Lee cleared his throat, unable to make eye contact with you.

“L-“ You went to say his name but found you couldn’t. It was only one syllable, only three letters and it pained you to even think about, let alone say aloud. You cleared your throat, “Laura-Jean, nice to see you again.”

Laura-Jean said nothing in return. She just hummed, waiting for you to talk away.

“I guess I’ll go.. find me a new seat.” You took a deep breath when you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, again. Lee stared straight forward the whole time you stood there, too cowardly to even look you in the eyes. Some Sheriff he’ll be.

You scanned the crowd of people and found your momma in the front row, of course. You made your way up the aisle and took your seat next to her. The chorus sang their hems and the preacher clapped his way in on the last versus.

“How are we doin’ on this fine Sunday mornin’?” he drawled to the crowd. He got an assortment of greetings in return.

“I said ‘HOW ARE WE DOIN ON THIS BRIGHT N’ SHINY SUNDIE MORNIN’?’.”

“GOOD” the people shouted in return. You could hear Laura-Jean giggling over something but you wouldn’t dare look back. Lee always made church bearable, making wise cracks at the preaches expense.

“Now, today I’d like to talk a little bit about love. Of course, we’re always talkin’ about love when it comes to our lord and savor, Jesus Christ. But just for a moment, it ain’t about him. No. This mornin’ I’m preachin’ to you about young love.”

Here we go.

“It comes and goes so fast, but when you have it, it’s one of the most beautiful things this world can offer you.. especially when you put a little Jesus in it.” The church laughed. You knew where this was going. Your stomach churned as you sunk down into the pew.

“I’d like to ask the newly engaged folks in the crowd to come and join me up here. You know who you are, soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Lee Bodecker.”

Your heart felt as if it were going to explode, a tear escaped through your lashes and you quickly wiped it away.

They walked up hand in hand, smiling for cheek to cheek. How could he be so happy, so calm after only being broken up for less than a week? Did he ever love you? Really love you. Like you loved him. Obviously not because you could never, in good conscience do this to him. You couldn’t stand on a stage wrapped arm in arm with another man while Lee sat, just as you were now, devastated and totally distraught.

“So tell us,” the preach beamed. “When’s the big day.”

Lee looked at you with a pained expression as Laura-Jean answered the preach.

“May 21st”

Your breathing heavies at the reply. Turning to your momma you whispered, “Momma, that’s in two weeks.”

“I know that. Now, hush.” She side eyed you with a full smile still pressed to her lips. Even your own mother didn’t seem to care about your feelings. You sat there, listening to Laura-Jean go on and on about their ‘big day’. Tears streamed down your face and you let them. You’d given up on trying to hide how hurt you really felt. When you looked up, Lee stared straight at you. He wasn’t crying but his pain ridden face told you everything. One look at him and you couldn’t breathe anymore. You stood abruptly, all eyes were on you and Laura-Jean had stopped talking.

“I- excuse me.” You said before booking it out the back door. Lee hollered out, asking you to wait. It was too late. You were half way out the door and couldn’t stand to be in that room for another second.

Your feet stomped against the grave, dust clouding up in your wake as you made your way to the road.

“Y/n!” Lee called out after you.

“Go away. I have nothing to say to you, L- fuck.” You cursed, trying desperately to get away from him.

“I said wait, goddammit.” He growled, capturing your bicep in his large hand.

“Let go of me!” You whined sounding out of breath.

“Not until you listened to what I have to say.”

“What, Lee? What could you possibly have to say?”

“I- I.. dammit. I know I put you in a tough position but-“

“A tough position?” You repeated.

“Let me finish.” He sighed and released your arm from his grasp, “I know I hurt you. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, but, doll, this is it. This is my only chance at becoming Sheriff. You know how hard I’ve worked to get here and you’ve always been so supportive of my dream. I- I just thought.. out of everyone you would understand.”

Your skin burned as you imagined smoke blowing from your ears. Did he really just say that? That you should understand the break up and go on with your life like nothing happened like he is? You stood there frozen, breathing heavier and heavier as your brain tried to come up with a coherent response while trying to also remain a lady.

“I- I still love you. You know that, right?” He asked, bringing a hand to your cheek and wiping a stray tear away.

You flinched at his burning touch and slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again. I don’t love you anymore. I can’t love you. Shit… seeing you was the best part of my day and now I can’t even look at you without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I can’t even say your name anymore. Everything about you, now, fills me with so much pain and dread. So if that’s what your love is, keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Doll,” A tear ran down his cheek, you now being the one who’s breaking his heart. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear.” He sniffles.

“Well, you did. I’m in so much pain.” You sobbed, “I’m in so much pain and I have no one to go to because you were my person. You have left me completely empty and utterly alone.”

“Y/n, I-“

“Save it, Bodecker. I’m done talking to you.”

Lee didn’t chase after you this time. He let the tears stream down his face as he watched you walk away. He was just as heartbroken as you but couldn’t show it., not when he was so close to winning this election. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and headed back towards the church. He knew you just needed time and that he’d still see you around town.

Seeing you today took his breath away. You wore your favorite dress that he bought you for your birthday so long ago. You didn’t have on any makeup, which he loved. You were so naturally beautiful and he did still love you with every piece of his shattered heart. He’d eventually come up with a plan to get you back, but for now he would respect your space.

Once you’d gotten home and shut the door, you couldn’t help but scream at the top of your lungs. Hoping for some sort of release from all this heartache you felt. Telling him you couldn’t love him was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You sat on the floor in the same position you were in before you left; head between your knees and sobbing like a baby.

There was no escaping him in this town. There was church and the grocery store and the diner you worked at part time. He was everywhere. He’d come in every morning you worked to have coffee with you. He had been a part of every little thing you do in your daily routine for as long as you can remember.

There was never a time you weren’t together. It was always just you and him. He was the one who held you when you were sad, but where was he now when you needed him most?

To you, there was only one way to fix this; get the hell out of here. Completely leave town and start anew somewhere else. You have an aunt that lives right outside of town. You can stay there until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you got up. Your aunt agreed to the plan and said you could stay with her for as long as you needed when you called her. You packed a small duffle bag and waited for her to pick you up.

When she did finally pull up out front, you hopped in the car and she drove off, leaving the dusty ole town you called home for so long. You took in a deep breath as you drove towards your new life. No Lee, no momma, no worries.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime

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90stvshowgoth · 4 years

Text

—BREAKING & ENTERING

—ch.1 —ch.2

summary: after dabi was seen leaving your apartment complex last week, the commission has sent a lesser known hero to help guard the building until new cameras are installed. however, no security measures in the world could keep dabi out.

w/c: 5064

tags: dubcon, cuckolding, creampie, voyeurism, humiliation, exhibitionism, arson

a/n: this is the final chapter to this little duology, and the reason why its so much shorter is because the first one was really supposed to stand on its own, but i got so many requests for a sequel i couldn’t help it. so i just took the kinks i didn’t get to use last time and pay off some setup and voila. however, just ‘cause this is the last chapter of this story doesn’t mean i’m not gonna write a fuck ton of other stuff for him. ily burn man. plus i’m working on a huge, multi-chapter fic for him while i post smaller one-shots >:) that being said, enjoy.

The impact Dabi left on your life was far bigger than you thought it would’ve been on the night you snuck him away from the law. As he was running from the cops someone saw him climb through your window, and a different person also saw him climb down the fire escape. With witnesses like that, the other tenants were downright furious.

You almost felt bad for the landlord, it wasn’t his fault you were insane enough to willingly let a villain come inside both you and your apartment.

Your landlord and the police department came up with a solution. The apartment complex would be installing new state-of-the-art locks on all fire-escape adjacent windows free of charge. This wasn’t exactly an issue with seeing Dabi again, since all you had to do was purposefully leave yours unlocked.

It would take two weeks to install all the cameras, but until then, a community-assigned hero would be stationed to guard the complex.

His name was Kao, a middle-ranked hero with bright orange hair and a winning smile framed with dimples. At first you thought he might’ve been one of the better heroes, waving you off to work and walking you there the other day, but recently he’d begun to creep you out. The friendly conversations about a tv show you both enjoyed began to turn into invasive questions about your love life.

A week of lingering glances and uncomfortable prying culminated that Friday as he had flat out asked you to dinner moments prior.

“C’mon, I just— I said that wrong, lemme try again,” He stuttered, keeping pace with you as you marched towards the building.

“No, Kao, look, you’re cool and all, but I’m really not looking to date anyone right now.” You huffed, striding into the doorway and towards the elevator. That might not’ve been the whole truth but you obviously couldn’t tell him that you had the hots for a terrorist.

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well you just got off work, right? I remember which room you stay in, maybe I can swing by tonight?”

You whirled on him, your jaw slack in shock at the insensitivity of his words. The reminder that he knew where you lived sending a shiver down your spine, “Kao, this conversation is done. I don’t want you following me around anymore, hero,”

Deep down, your words sounded familiar. If they were raspier and said behind a thin veil of indifference, you might’ve realized that you were talking like Dabi.

“What is that supposed to mean? We’re the good guys!” You slammed your fist down on the close-door button, your mouth a thin line, daring Kao to make a move and stop the doors. He didn’t, and soon the reassuring pull of the elevator set your shaking body at ease.

‘Who does he think he is?’ You were bitter, rightfully so, you think.

You were so frustrated that you had difficulty inserting your keys into the lock, twisting it with a growl and throwing open the door, ready to collapse onto your pillow and vent to whoever was online about your heroic stalker.

When you noticed the scent of cigarettes in the air.

“Hey, doll,” Warmth surged through your chest at the sight of him, the villain’s feet kicked up onto the coffee table.

You were hanging your coat on the hook before moving beside him to the couch, “What took you so long?”

“Not happy to see me? You seem a lot bitchier than I remember,” The crude edge of his humor was a breath of fresh air compared to the stifling niceties of work, and you smiled for what felt like the first time that day.

Shaking your head, you toed out of your boots and made your way to the frayed couch, “I’ll tell you all about him,”

That got his attention, “Him?”

“A hero,” Dabi’s frown worsened, an accusatory look in his eyes, “before you ask, no, you idiot, I hate this guy, there’s not a chance I’d sleep with him.”

The tensity in his shoulders relaxed, bring the half-finished Newport to his lips as you continued, “Since you broke in last week all my neighbors lost their shit. They threatened to sue if my landlord didn’t assign a hero to watch the building for a bit. I thought he was cool, but I’ve just decided that he’s a total prick.”

He hummed, nodding understandingly, “Want me to kill him?”

You gaped, hitting him on the chest, “Wha—No, Dabi, what the hell?”

He just shrugged, the intensity of his words almost funny to you, and as you recounted the last twenty minutes the ashes of Dabi’s cigarette fell to the floor. The dying lights of the sun streamed through your window, the smoke oddly beautiful in the glow as he handed you the last hit of his cheap cigar.

“You know why heroes are like that?” You shook your head, enjoying the numbing calm of tobacco, “It’s cause they’re spoiled. They go their entire lives being praised for everything they do so they don’t know how to take no for a fuckin’ answer,”

Apparently your smoking buddy was feeling talkative, much to your delight. His words made you pause, remembering the relieved faces of your neighbors whenever they’d see the gaudy costume Kao wore as he strode by.

“Shit... guess you’re right,” You mumbled into his side, not minding the ever-present aroma of burnt skin and smoke that clung to Dabi’s coat.

He scoffed, “I’m always right, baby,” His words earning him a pinch on the arm.

“No, you ass, just about the hero stuff,” He grinned, the staples on his dimples taut against his skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Careful, doll, you’re starting to sound like a villain,” The drop in your stomach sent heat down your skin, yet somehow you were still shivering under his predatory gaze.

You shook your head, trying to will away the red that dusted your cheeks, “No way, my quirk isn’t strong enough to be a villain,”

He raised his eyebrow expectantly, broadly gesturing for you to go on.

“Well...” God, why is this embarrassing? “I can give people headaches.”

You didn’t know if he would laugh at you or belittle you for your meaningless quirk, but he did neither.

“Think you could practice it more? Get better at it?” He was serious, staring at you and expecting an answer.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, “I mean, maybe? It’s not hard to do, I guess,”

Dabi smirked, pulling you onto his lap. It felt as if the week hadn’t happened at all and you were right back where you started, your face flushing at the memories of that night. He dragged you close, eyes dark as he whispered something into your ear...

“Think you could split someone’s head open with a migraine?”

Your gut wrenched, flinching at the gory idea and making you sit up in Dabi’s lap. The atmosphere in the room hadn’t changed, his stare as menacing as before.

That is, until he started to crack up. Louder than you’d ever heard before, his fit filled the apartment until he had to cup his stomach from laughing too hard; the wheeze in his rough throat echoing around the room as your blush spread all the way down your neck.

“Oh, you asshole!” If anything, your shove against his chest only made him more giddy. The panic-fueled adrenaline was still surging through your body, unwillingly making the wetness between your thighs spread, even as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that Dabi had been fucking with you.

Your legs shook as he held on to you for balance, his cackling dying down but the shit-eating grin never leaving his face, “You were so freaked out, huh?”

“Yeah, no shit!”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair and suddenly yanking you forward, basking in the sharp yelp it brought from you, “You’re cute when you’re scared,”

You’d missed the way his scabbed lips felt on yours more than you’d ever admit. There was something about him that left you breathless, eager and questioning your life choices. Groaning into his mouth before pulling back and laving your slick tongue along his disfigured lower lip, you rolled your aching heat against him to force a truly pornographic moan from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck—” One of his hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass through your jeans, “Fucking hell, you missed me that much?”

You nodded dumbly into his shoulder, pressing chaste kisses along the ragged skin as he slid his finger past the band of your jeans, cupping your dripping sex with wide eyes.

“Goddamn, s’no way you’re this wet for me already,” His eyes were scrutinizing, trying to figure out why you were hiding into his neck, “What’s got you so worked up, doll?”

You couldn’t come up with a good excuse in time, Dabi thinking back to how your thighs had tightened up when he asked if you could kill someone, your eyes were frightened back then, yes, but there was something else. Something you wouldn’t tell him.

When the realization hit him, it hit hard.

“Holy shit, you get off on being scared?” He couldn’t believe his luck, the embarrassed groan you buried into his shoulder confirming his suspicions.

Dabi ran a hand through his hair, a childish wonder over his features, “Aren’t I fuckin’ lucky?” He sneered, pulling you back til you were at eye-level again.

“I’m gonna try something, baby,” there was an edge to his voice as he settled one hand on the small of your back, pressing your tits against his chest as he held your bra strap back with the other.

“What are you… Dabi, what are you doing?” The scent of fire and burning fabric filled the air, the ends of your bralette smoking between his fingertips, embers turning to ash and sprinkling down the couch until it was flimsy enough for Dabi to rip free, teeth sinking into your neck as he held you still to keep your skin safe.

It was jarring and a bit terrifying to be restrained against someone like Dabi without knowing his intentions. But nothing in you could deny the blinding rush of pleasure it ripped down your spine.

“It’s all starting to make sense, doll-face, I guess I was right the first time,” His hands tossed the smoking bra into hallway, reaching between you and torturously pinching and pulling on the rosy blush of your tits, “you do have a thing for villains,”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight pussy again, doll,” Without warning he shoved your torso forward, your body bouncing against the couch, his hands flying to the button of your jeans.

“—Didn’t have time to take you right last time, didn’t get to taste you,” his words made you whimper in his grasp, keeping your legs somewhat raised as tugged down the tight denim.

You fully expected him to take you rough like before, make you choke on his cock before having his fill, but as he tugged off your black panties he crawled down the trembling body beneath him, slowly moving over your ribs, your stomach, and finally your drooling cunt.

He never broke eye contact with you as he pulled your thighs closer, keeping them spread wide as the hot fan of his breath on your pussy sent a thrill through your neglected nerves.

“I want you to scream my name,” It was an order, not a request. The unhinged tremor in his hands was unsettling, an unspoken threat hanging in the air.

Dabi’s tongue immediately found your clit, mouth wrapping around the glistening bead and sucking all at once, the moan it drew from your lips unholy. He moaned at the taste, hiking up your hips onto his shoulders.

“Christ, you’re sweet, doll, like fuckin’ candy...” He muttered in disbelief, more to himself that to you, licking a wide stripe along your drenched lips, diving into you deep enough to have your limbs spasming around him.

On instinct your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the sharp cry that the villain drew. He didn’t warn you before bringing his hand up high and slapping it into the bare skin of your thigh, a scream echoing through the living room. Distantly, you wondered if your neighbors could hear...

“Don’t you dare hide a single sound from me, slut, or this ends now,” his ultimatum was scary but the insult felt heavy in a way you’d never felt before, and you nodded without a second thought, breathlessly bunching one hand into the arm of the couch above you and the other into the ashy black of his hair.

You nodded down to him, silently saying to continue; the villain fixed on watching as your chest swelled in time with your breathing, a rush of blood going to the heat of his cock.

His pace was hungry, nipping at your thighs whenever he thought you were too comfortable, spinning circles into your clit with his tongue and chuckling at the noises it brought, “You gonna cum, princess?” You could only respond with a scream of his name, the plea music to his ears, but he needed you to be louder if he was to get what he wanted.

“Louder,” Dabi called your name like a prayer, moaning into your cunt as you practically suffocated him between your thighs, “Fuck—Louder, baby, scream it,”

“Dabi!!” Your orgasm was hot against his tongue and he drank in every last drop of your climax until you were wrenching away his greedy mouth, your pussy swollen and red from his care.

Just as you started to compose yourself, a frantic banging sounded on the door. Someone from the hallway was slamming down their fist, screaming your name.

“Hey! Did you just say Dabi?! Are you okay in there?” It was Kao.

Horror clawed away any kind of afterglow as you cupped your hand to your mouth, leaning up on your elbow and whispering, “What do I say?”

Dabi’s voice was just low enough to hide behind the pounding of Kao’s fists, “Do you trust me?”

Before you could answer the hero behind the wall called your name again.

“If you don’t answer me in five seconds I’m breaking this door down!”

Your gaze flickered from the front door to the villain that was wiping your slick from his chin.

“Yes,”

Dabi grinned, grabbing your wrists and holding you against his shirt, one hand wrapped painfully around your tits and the other erupting with blue fire in his palm.

“Come and get her, hero!” You made a confused squeal, thrashing around in his grasp, eyes wide and afraid as Dabi shushed into your ear, trying to calm you down.

‘Like hell if you’d calm down, he’d practically just signed your death sentence!’ you heaved against the fugitive, trying to shake yourself free to no avail.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and imagine you were somewhere else as door was jolted in its hinges, the doorknob falling with a distant clang, and before you could beg Dabi to stop whatever stupid game he was playing, Kao ran into the room, eyes furrowed and fists raised as the door squeaked on the loose hinges behind him, blissfully unaware.

“Where are y—“ Kao’s voice paused mid-sentence, you flinched in Dabi’s hold, the heat of the redhead’s stare washing over you, naked and wet, making you tilt your head down, trying to hide yourself from the world.

“Isn’t she cute, hero?” Dabi rasped against you, the heat of his fire illuminated against the sweaty sheen of your trembling body. Kao didn’t know what to do, flustered and struggling to hide the tent in his latex costume.

You knew fighting back against the villain was pointless, falling limp in the strength of his arms as he chuckled into your neck, looking over at the bump in his pants, “You were right, babe, I think he likes you,”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Kao screamed, diving towards the couch with his fist raised back.

Dabi simply grinned, carefully hovering his flame ever closer to your now bare tits, you couldn’t help but scream at the proximity, and whatever plan Kao had in his mind died before his fist could make impact.

His novocaine laced voice spoke calmly beside your ear, “Any closer and she’s dead,” The hot rush down your legs wasn’t due to his flames, as one hand took to rubbing your sensitive sex, the sounds it elicited from you unintentional and mortifying under the presence of Kao in the room.

“What... what do you want, you bastard?” Dabi laughed at that one, tweaking your clit between his fingers and conducting the most beautiful notes from your pillowy lips.

“I think It’s pretty obvious what I want, don’t you think?” Your name on his lips sent you keening against him despite the inferno roaring inches away from your skin. He couldn’t move without Dabi’s flames hovering ever closer to your heaving chest, and to Kao, you were very clearly about to die. Although you didn’t believe Dabi would hurt you, he had asked you to trust him before he got Kao’s attention, after all, the line between foreplay and conflagration was becoming blurry.

Kao backed up into the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, barely making an effort to try and hide his erection anymore, “I’ll send you to fucking Tartarus for this, Dabi.”

“Oooo, scary,” His unlit hand trailed down your jawline, tilting you to his side until he could slide his tongue into your open lips, humming into your mouth, “What do you think, doll?

“Dabi, please... wait,“ The strength in your voice wasn’t as heated as before, and even you had to admit it sounded half-assed.

Kao’s quirk must be no good for long range because all he could do was stand there, trying to avert his eyes from your drooling cunt in favor of glaring daggers at the coy villain pulling soft mewls from your lips, “I swear... I’ll see you rot in prison for this. You’ll be fucking executed, you rapist—“

“—woah, woah, that stings, hero. Doll, is that really what I’m doin’?” You groaned, not exactly answering because you couldn’t hear the question, your eyes still shut tight in embarrassment.

The growl in his voice sent another soaking rush towards your pussy, as his hand grabbed you jaw, pulling you up, “Look at me,” Your eyes widened at the sight of Dabi so close to you, his chest warm against your back, the aches of your last orgasm fading into something new.

“Tell me to stop, princess, your call,” Time stood still as Dabi kissed a soft pathway along your neck, weirdly gentle as he listened for your response, his clothed hard-on pressed firmly against your ass.

Too flustered to speak, you merely wrenched your arm free from his grasp, carding you hand through his hair and pulling him to your desperate lips. You could feel him tug into a smirk against you as your hips eagerly ground themselves on him despite the audience.

Kao choked on his own spit, stepping backwards, but stopped when Dabi aimed his ignited hand towards the hero who was having difficulty piecing together your actions in his head. “What,” His voice cracked when he called out your name, “are you...?”

Dabi pulled away, a feral glint in the blue hidden beneath his hair as he licked a disgustingly wet stripe along your cheek, chest rumbling behind you as you squirmed at the gross feeling, “I’m still gonna need you to beg, sweetheart.”

Your dignity was hanging by a thread, hinging on whether or not you followed his lead, but the insane buzz your anxiety had stirred up under Kao’s confused stare and Dabi’s aching cock was impossible to ignore. He rut himself into the dripping curve of your ass, his jeans soaked with your slick as you found the courage to speak.

“Fuh...” Carefully, Dabi pressed a loving kiss to your temple, his stare fixated on Kao’s as you strung the syllables together, “Fuck me, Dabi,”

The hero couldn’t believe his ears. She’d turned him down countless times despite his pursuits, yet she was somehow fine with this? Kao briefly thought that perhaps his crush was a villain this whole time, but that couldn’t make sense with her weak quirk.

You felt Dabi twitch beneath you, the shameless way you showed yourself off was as humiliating as it was hot, and he laughed in lightheaded disbelief against the back of your neck, taking your ass in one hand and slipping the other down his pants, tugging off the painful metal zipper until his boxers were pulled down just enough for his cock to finally be met with the soft warmth of your cunt.

“As the lady commands,” Dabi grinned, reaching around your waist to take his pierced dick in his hand, rubbing and tapping his swollen head deliberately against your clit, pre-cum drenching your pussy as you felt boneless in his arms.

“Ah-! St..S-top tea-sing, Dabi!” You babbled, squirming to try and find an escape from his grasp or maybe trying to force him inside you, but all your struggling did was make him harder. But before you could beg, you froze at the sight of Kao a few feet away, his legs bending into a sprinter’s pose. He was going to run?

Dabi was having none of it, a controlled jet of flame grazing Kao’s knee, scalding the skin beneath the latex. The hero cried out into the bite of his fist, collapsing into the wall a few feet away.

“Nah, hero. You’re not leaving just yet,” The villain rearranged you on his lap, “See, the thought of you jerking off to my girl? It kinda pisses me off, actually,”

The color in Kao’s face drained as he had no choice but to sit and watch as Dabi slowly sunk you down on top of him, one hand drawing soft circles into your stomach as you reveled in the feeling of his piercings hot against every part of you.

“Though, I’m wondering, what did you think about, huh?” Kao sputtered, unable to form words just like you, formless noises falling from your lips.

His scarred hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, raising you up only to shove you back onto his cock, the flames that still extended to threaten Kao suddenly flared up in time with his thrusts, the weight of him felt so much deeper at this angle and it was hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“I... nothing! I didn’t—“ Another whip of fire cut through the room from Dabi’s fingertips, a cast of blue leaving bubbling skin in its wake, pain flashing across Kao’s face.

“Fuckin’ liar,” You yelped as Dabi shoved you down, moaning into your ear as you squeezed against him, sobbing his name into his chest as he picked up a steady pace in your guts.

Kao cried out, stuttering and gripping along the inflamed line of skin, “I-I thought— thought about her... fuck— I just wanted her to suck me off, alright? There, I said it! Are you happy now?”

He must’ve realized the mistake in his words as soon as he said them, squeezing your eyes shut but having no choice but to smell the stench of burning flesh and hear the sound of muffled screaming as it filled your apartment, “Can’t blame you though, her mouth is God,”

Your hands scrambled for balance against Dabi as the screaming of his victim made him downright feral, filling your tight heat so well it had you crying.

“Damn, you’re soaked for me, doll, I just knew you were a kinky fuck deep down. You’re a slutty little girl for me, aren’t ya?”

As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. He was painfully right, and you told him so. The unhinged, unstoppable force that was Dabi ignited a passion in you that’d never been fed before. He was torturing the hero you hated all while taking your cunt in deep, harsh thrusts, the metal imbedded into his cock and his chest behind you were blisteringly hot against your skin.

“Tell him, baby,” His question fell on deaf ears, your tongue lolling from your mouth a bit at the pleasure.

It caught you off guard when he drew his hand back and slapped you across the cheek, a blistering red handprint in its wake, saying your name so softly, turning off his quirk to run his hands through your hair, he whispered, “Tell that fucking hero who you belong to,”

The world tipped over as Dabi gripped your shoulders, pushing you onto the wooden coffee table so your ass stuck in the air. In an instant he was on you again, pounding into your cunt with a glazed fervor, your words downright biblical in his ears.

“On-ly... Dabi ca—Ngh, Only Dabi can fuck me this good,” You forced the words from your throat, thankful for the table serving as an impartial shoulder to cry on as Dabi lined himself up with your cunt.

“More, princess,” The snap of his hips had you drooling onto the table, catching sight of Kao’s slumped body in the corner as Dabi’s breath sounded much louder than before.

“Fuck, baby—” You cried, craning your neck back to look at him. Sweat glistened at the crown of his dark hair, steam shading his breath as he took you hard, “Your cock is— shit its so deep in me,”

Your nerves were spent from exhaustion as he railed you, being more vocal than before as he choked at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his fingernails digging future bruises into your hip dips, “Wanna feel you cum in me, want you to fill me up— Dabi, wanna make you feel good,”

“Fuck, doll, I can’t...” He ground his teeth together, making you squeal as he mounted you from behind, spreading your legs out wide so you had no way to hide yourself, “Gonna fuck’n cum-gonna cum in you- fuck, fuck, fuck—!“

You both hit your highs at the same time, Dabi accidentally digging your face into the wood as he held you as tightly to him as possible, his cum running hot due to his quirk as he pumped you full, that broken cry of yours like music to his ears, humping you a few times to ride out his climax.

You felt warm and safe, Dabi’s weight a comfortable blanket even with your shivering skin pressed naked into the coffee table. However, the quietly groaning hero in the corner made you quickly come back down to earth.

“Dabi... did you kill him?” Your voice was small beneath him, but he just shrugged.

“Nah, not yet, don’t worry,” He kissed your neck one more time, his thumb rubbing circles into your indented stomach, pulling you off the table and back into his arms.

He pulled out of you and grinned at the sight of his release spilling down your thighs, “Damn...” he whispered, taking in the sight with a satisfied whistle, “C’mon Doll, forget about him.”

You were grateful he carried you bridal style to your bedroom, your legs gelatin at this point, and as he laid you down to rest he grabbed one of your discarded shirts that hadn’t made it to the hamper and wiped down the remains of sex from your twitching cunt before leaving the cum-stained top ignored on the ground.

“You doing good, baby? Didn’t go too hard, did I?” His concern was diminished somewhat by the grin on his face, satisfied with the mumbling, love-drunk form he’d reduced you to.

Shaking your head, you burrowed into the warm blankets, peeking your eyes out from beyond the covers in a way that even Dabi couldn’t deny was pretty cute, “No, just... what are you gonna do with Kao?”

His face was unreadable as he leaned closer, “Do you really want to know?”

Truth be told, no, you didn’t, you were just a civilian, far removed from the complex fight between heroes and villains. You were only in this situation because you’d grown to care about Dabi. In some small, sarcastic way, he’d wormed his way into your life, and he hadn’t hurt you so far, only going as close as possible to bring you over the edge again and again.

“No...”

“Good answer,” he stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans as he went back into the living room. You heard a muffled thud and what sounded like Dabi cursing before he reappeared in your bedroom, Kao’s unconscious body slung over his shoulder. For such a wiry guy, Dabi was pretty strong. Moving to the open window he basically threw Kao’s body onto the outside metal grating, his lungs uneven after carrying him.

Just as he swung his leg onto the windowsill you shot up in your bed, hand outstretched, “Wait!”

He turned back to look at you, genuinely confused as to what you could want.

“Kiss me before you go?”

He froze, then grinned, scoffing at the innocent gesture you gave so openly to a murderer like him. There had to be something wrong with his little villain-in-training to make her okay with it, just like him. Dabi ignored that thought for another day, striding forward and finally giving you the goodbye kiss you’d been denied last time, his tongue trying to map out every detail in case he could ever forget before pulling away with a warm softness to his ocean eyes.

“I think I might be starting to like you, Doll,” A feint rush of color fell on his unmarred skin and you’re sure your heart stopped beating for a good three seconds.

His words were a worn record being played over and over in your head long after he crawled down your fire escape, the teasing, sated haze in his voice hidden beneath a rasp of smoke. You weren’t sure how much he meant what he said, but you’re sure that the first thing you said in return was exactly what he wanted to hear; at least judging from the boyish smile that lit up his face when you said it.

“Come back soon, okay?”

“Okay,”

@effmigentlywithachainsaw @touyasfatcock @thicchaikyuuboys @awritersometimes @chey-the-simp

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dubcon #murder #mha #my hero academia #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

Shower Thoughts

A/N: I like writing about personal emotions a lot…this feels a little like writing a diary but also like self-therapy and it really helps me. I hope anyone who also feels this way knows that they’re not alone with those feelings. Also happy birthday to the sweetest @sunghoonied!! I wrote this thinking of you and I hope you have the best day ♡ PS. I didn't proofread this so if you find errors kindly lmk please! x

genre: optional bias (male), meant to comfort you, angst, fluff, talk of loneliness / anxiety but with a good ending!

words: ~ 2.5 k

taglist: @lovely-ateez, @mochi-ficz, @soundsofminho, @runaway-fics

People said that walking was supposed to clear your mind. But then why was it, that you had gotten so lost in your worst thoughts out there? The time spent in fresh air was meant to let your mind wander to calm places and smiling at strangers should have made you feel less lonely. But with every step you took and with every passing face your body felt heavier. Not only did you carry your figure, but the crushing burden that had been nagging at you for weeks.

Watching others stroll around the streets seemed so easy. And perhaps it should have been easy, after all. It made you wonder, maybe you were the only one whose mind was constantly covered in dark rain clouds. Maybe everyone had their place in the world, and they knew just where and with whom they belonged. Surely, they didn’t overthink every conversation they had with a random stranger. Did their brain also function merely on autopilot in public, while the back of your mind was chaos of doubt and fear? Was there anybody else who spent day to day worrying about never finding someone who could deal with the burden of you and your issues? How was somebody else going to love you if you were this sad?

Those people that care about you are the ones you should be honest with, after all. There was no brushing off the How Are You question with a quick “I’m fine”. How could someone deal with the real answer you would give? You didn’t want to pull anybody down with you when you were hurting. So then again, maybe it was for the better your apartment was always empty when you came home. With no one to ask you about your feelings, you couldn’t cause anyone else agony and worry. Your own pain was enough – one person was enough to deal with it.

You shoved your shoes in the corner next to your door. If it wasn’t for your mental state, you would’ve guessed your jacket was a hundred kilos heavy. But even after you had peeled it off, nothing changed. You dragged your body to the bathroom.

You’d be so proud if only you could go one day without crying. And you had almost made it, had it not been for the godforsaken shower water. There was something about seeing the droplets on your skin and on the tiles that caused your tears to come out freely. The noise of the shower made you feel shut off from the rest of the world. Now it was just you and your salty ocean tears. The tears united with the shower water. It was hard to tell which drops on your cheek had originated in your swollen eyes and which had fallen from the shower head. This way, it seemed almost as if there was an invisible force that was wiping over your face, trying to appease your sobs.

But there was nobody. And that was why you only cried harder. If only you had listened to your own words when you tried to cheer yourself up. Then maybe you would feel better when you wrapped your arms around your own body. You were desperate. The notion that someone could hold you like this, one day, should have gifted you at least some form of hope. But no, you knew it wouldn’t happen any time soon. Not with this mindset and your sadness.

You hiccupped helplessly. This was all so tiring. Before you knew it, you sat down on the shower floor under the hot stream. At least there was no one waiting to get into the shower after you. So you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about blocking the bathroom and wasting all the hot water. For a few minutes you remained on the floor, drowning out your cries under the splashing sound. You felt the impulse to scream. Look, I’m here! I’m a person with interests and passions and emotions! Doesn’t anybody see me? I’m sick of only existing! Won’t somebody teach me how to live?

But at most, that would cause you a noise complaint. If only you weren’t so terrible at talking to people. Maybe you could make a friend someday – when your anxiety got better. Like in a trance, you finally switched off the water and grabbed your towel. You were so utterly lost in your thoughts, that everything went by as if you were only watching from the sidelines. You got out of the shower, dried off, put on some body lotion – an attempt at self-care – and got dressed in the most comfortable, baggy clothes you owned.

What on earth would you do tonight? There really were only so many ways you could have fun (or rather distract yourself from feeling down) when you were all by yourself and everything reminded you of how lonely you were. The option of just going to sleep slipped past you. But you weren’t tired enough. You knew you’d lie awake for hours, left alone with your thoughts. And crying yourself to sleep was the last thing you wanted right now.

So you opted for the most mainstream idea: Netflix. You plopped down on the sofa, a steaming hot cup of tea on the small table in front of you. Now you only had one thing left to do. You needed to choose some stupid show and let the problems of tv characters invade your brain and pray they would shove out your own issues. You weren’t even hungry. Although there was a part of you that wished it could have eaten your weight in chocolate, but you knew that had little to do with hunger.

Just as you reached for the remote control, the sound of your doorbell made you jump. I’ll just let it be. They’ll think I’m not home and leave. Those thoughts came right away. It made you curse yourself. You had just cried over feeling alone, but now you’re shutting out some random neighbor who probably just needs some tiny favor from you. Way to go. So, more to prove a point to yourself than to be friendly, you stepped to your door and opened it.

“Hi.” It was your neighbor. Your handsome, kind neighbor, who you always met at the local grocery store. You were so mentally exhausted you didn’t even feel self-conscious about looking the way you did. Although you hoped your eyes had recovered from the redness, at least a little. “Hi,” you greeted him back.

“Look, I really don’t want to be intrusive. And if you want me to leave, I will,” he said. He fumbled with his hands, as if he was nervous about his words. “But I kind of heard you…cry…in the shower. And I know you live alone, and I figured if you’re crying you probably don’t have any company. I guess I just wanted to check whether you’re okay. Do you have someone to talk to?”

With every word your heart only sped up. You felt like a trapped rabbit in a corner and the meaning of his message only sunk in slowly. Yes, of course. I’ll call my friend and talk to them,you wanted to say. But that would have been a massive lie. And you just couldn’t lie to him. Not when he stood there, in his fuzzy sweater and fresh-out-the-shower damp hair, with eyes so worried and attentive. You weren’t sure if it was from how touched you were by his concern for you, or if it was your sadness catching up to you again. Before you could swallow your tears, your eyes filled to the brim and your vision turned blurry.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, not sure what for. Hurriedly, you used your sweater paw to wipe your leaking eyes. You didn’t want him to feel bad for you, but now you had achieved just that and more. Your embarrassment set in and you finally came out with the truth. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s alright. We all have those days, don’t we? I just want you to know that you’re not alone. And I have nothing to do…so if you need someone to talk to, or even just to keep you company…I can stay with you for a bit…or you can come over to mine. I just don’t want you to feel alone. But if you would prefer to be by yourself, that’s okay. People deal with things differently.”

You were so baffled that your ability to speak completely fell through. The idea of someone, an almost-stranger, going so out of their way to make sure you were okay blew you away. He knew nothing about you. But here he was, taking a chance on you, nonetheless. Only then you realized you probably looked like a fool, staring at him but failing to answer. Quickly, you prompted yourself to open your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“What were you doing just now?” he asked. “Any plans for the evening?”

“I was going to watch a movie, I guess,” you said. “And I think some company would be very nice.”

He smiled at you like was your childhood best friend and you had just reconnected after years of being apart. That’s why it felt the more natural to let him enter your apartment. You got into small talk about what it was like living in the building and how his apartment had a mirrored structure to yours. The simplest conversation took your mind off your sorrow right away. You felt like thanking him would be a little dramatic after he had barely settled on your sofa, so you kept it to yourself. Either way, the small smile on your face felt like warm, soothing sunlight on your skin after eight consecutive days of rain.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asked. You thought for a moment.

“No, I think I’d rather just distract myself,” you said. Even though you were grateful for having him here, you feared if you spilled your guts to him you would only scare him away.

“Alright,” he said without judgement. “What film were you planning on watching?”

And so you started your movie. There was a respectful distance between you on the sofa. But his simple presence next to you was more than you could have asked for tonight. He was like a heater, providing safety and comfort in the coldest winter. Hearing someone else chuckle at the jokes in the movie along with you was magnificent. His laughter sounded like a rainbow. It seeped into your body and your soul straightened up and bloomed like a parched flower being watered after all this loneliness.

But even under all the light, your problems were still here, waiting to nag at you. You knew they would consume you when he returned to his own apartment later. They would laugh at you for trying to socialize but staying closed off as always. Just because someone saw you didn’t mean they understood you and who you are. And how was one supposed to make human connections if they treated their thoughts like strictly confidential information in front of everybody? No, you had to tell him.Impulsively, you pressed the stop-button on the remote. He shot you a questioning gaze.

“I- I think maybe I do want to talk about something,” you confessed.

“You can tell me anything. I promise it’ll be safe with me. Let out whatever bothers you,” he said. His lovely, warm eyes were inviting like a haven for you. So you just started to talk. All your frustrations and reasons for anxiety were exiting your lips, floating all around you in the room. Airing out your weary brain finally, after holding everything in for weeks, was uncaging and nothing had felt this good in so long. Although your sadness wasn’t something that could be fixed by doing a task, the more thoughts and worries you explained to him, the easier it became. It wasn’t long before you felt your tears well up once more.

“It’s okay,” he said with his hand on your shoulder. This time, you didn’t try so hard to blink them away. Where there were emotions, there were tears, and he was right. It was fine to let them out. Through sniffles you finished telling him your issues.

“Is this okay?” he asked, gently putting his arm around your shoulder to hold your shaking figure. You hummed and nodded in agreement. His warmth was like a blanket to shelter you from the anxiety, if even just for a short while.

“I don’t expect you to know a solution,” you said. “I need to wait for it to get better. It’ll get better, eventually.”

“You’re right. It will all resolve,” he said. “I’m sorry things are so difficult. But you’re not alone, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Time will heal, I promise,” he said. “And until then, you have to hold on and keep going. The world’s a little cruel sometimes, when it shuts out the ones who struggle and don’t do as well as others. But you’re as much of a part of it as any other human on the street. And you’re just as important as them. You weren’t born to be successful or to achieve things. You’re here to live and be happy. So promise me to take care of yourself, and be gentle to yourself. Because you’re the only person that will be with yourself every second until the end. Please don’t be hard on yourself and have patience for good things to come around. And if it all feels like it’s too much for you, don’t feel guilty about reaching out for help. You can always ring my doorbell if you need something.”

“Thank you so much,” you cried. Your cheek rested on his shoulder and you sat in silence for a while. It was unbelievable which wonders such a small conversation between two people could do. Your heart felt lighter and the thoughts were no longer racing through your head. Peace was settling in, and you welcomed it more than ever.

“Now that I’ve told you about me, what kind of person are you?” you asked through tears. He chuckled a little. All you knew until now was that he had a heart of gold. Which, to be fair, meant your impression of him was off to a pretty good start already. Your thoughts were cautious as you wondered…Maybe he could be my friend.

You abandoned the movie. Instead, you spent all evening chatting about whatever came to your mind. You discussed childhood dreams, favorite dishes, your best playlists down to the cutes dog breeds you had ever seen. It felt great, getting to know somebody. And your suspicions came true. His big heart wasn’t the only thing admirable about him. He was funny and knew just what to say when you felt awkward or shy. When you slipped into bed that night, you did so with a smile on your face. You had always told yourself that you weren’t alone. But sometimes, the most optimistic person needed a small reminder coming from somebody else. Here was yours.

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goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

to be true, to not be true (part 1)

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: early in y/n’s and spencer’s relationship, y/n fears the growing distance between them, although what seemed to be possible infidelity, is actually much worse–for spencer.

Length: 2.9k

A/N: i wrote this in collaboration with one of my favorite writers on here, Mia over at @mggpleasedontlookhere. She is so wonderful and hopefully you can see both of our writing styles here!

masterlist

The sunlight streaming through the windows made the hairs on my skin dance in glee, although it was the soft breeze invading the space that contrasted the radiant warmth. An equilibrium was achieved–a needed balance. The same can be said about the nerves crawling about my stomach and the naive excitement that made me light-headed whenever I was around Spencer. I glanced up at him from where my head lay in his lap. The reflected glow from the TV danced across his features making my heart jolt. My stare caught his attention and he sent me a small smile, his hand leaving traces in my hair. It was his day off and I had no problem spending it in suffocating proximity with him.

“This is nice,” I breathed, leaning back into his soft touch. He hummed in response, almost in contentment, if not for the moment his eyes seemed far off, entangled in a distant thought. It was so brief, I might have missed it. His job took a lot from him and I knew that, which is why I never pushed him. Instead, I let the subtle aroma of morning coffee and fresh linen confine my senses, leaving me oblivious to reality.

Although not a few moments later, the ping from Spencer’s phone burst the fantastical bubble that surrounded us. My eyes lingered on the cartoon characters plastered on the screen but I couldn’t help noticing the way Spencer’s fingers would thump rhythmically against the floor. Adjacent to his palm, rested his phone, revealing several notifications as it came alive. Albeit I paid no mind to their context given I was enamored by the picture of me on his homescreen. A faint smile graced my lips at the observation, feeling a wave of warmth rush my cheeks.

“I wonder who that is,” I teased, referring to the image. Spencer must have misunderstood my point of reference, hastily explaining that new language that Morgan had introduced him to through text messages.

“Spencer, using emojis does not constitute a new language.”

“Considering its context, I would argue it is–I mean look at hieroglyphics!” I covered my face in amusement, running my hands over my eyes. A sharp exhale left my lungs as my chest filled with contagious giggles. It seems that I was too consumed in my fit of laughter to notice Spencer stealthily concealing the device and turning off his ringer.

“First of all, hieroglyphics is a formal writing system-”

“And does that not ‘constitute’ a portion of language? Also, isn’t texting a writing system in itself?” His lips formed into a sly smirk, thinking he’d gotten the best of me.

“You’re right in the way that hieroglyphics is part of the language, however it’s all but the ‘expression’ of that language.” I debated, gesturing to the air as I explained my point. For a moment our eyes met, and I could feel my playful resolve melt away under his gaze. Despite the pause in my confidence, my stubbornness shone through.

“All I heard was that I was right,” he jested, tickling the side of my waist. I jumped at his mischief, collapsing into pleas and begs as he continued his assault at my skin. My stomach churned in delight as my hands attempted to pry him off of me, the premise of our conversation vanishing into air like wisps of smoke.

Spencer’s days off were becoming increasingly rare, I’d barely seen him in the last two weeks, but we’ve managed to salvage enough time between cases for a date. The excitement buzzed through my veins as the clock ticked closer to 7 pm. I was growing restless in the apartment, obsessively checking my phone for the time. Spencer is usually right on time, if not early. Dread and anxiety clogged up my throat as I waited for him. For hours, call after call would be sent straight to voicemail. The weather outside seemed to be in tandem with the way I felt. The rain was as unforgiving as the tears that striped my face.

I was never one to hold a grudge. But it happened once, then it happened twice. Slowly, it became a habit and it was impossible to reach him.

I guess date nights on Thursdays were now obsolete.

He came over to my apartment maybe once whenever he was in town and even then he was nearly unrecognizable. His shy, loving demeanor was replaced by explosive irritability and general unease. I wished he’d just talk to me, but he continued to brush me off. He was being distant and strange, his behavior was so unlike him. Knowing him though, he was probably too stressed or busy to get around to doing simple tasks like eating a balanced meal. Spencer can be quite scatterbrained, and I hadn’t seen him in around a week. So, around lunch time, I made Spencer a healthy meal packed with proteins and veggies and decided to pop into the BAU and drop it off. It felt like a good way to cheer him up. Maybe we’d have lunch together at the park he always liked to visit. It wasn’t that far from headquarters. Hell, I’d even eat lunch with him at his desk at this point.

The walk into the BAU was strangely nerve wracking, I could feel my heart in my throat. I had an uneasy feeling in my gut but I took a deep breath and pushed the heavy glass doors open. My eyes scanned the bullpen for my boyfriend but I couldn’t find him. Standing there in confusion, I was only snapped out of my trance when someone bumped into me from behind.

“I’m so sorry–oh, it’s you! Hey Y/N, what are you doing here?” JJ said, closing the file she held in her hands and wrapping me in a one-armed hug.

“Hey JJ! I was looking for Spence, I got him lunch, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere? Do you know where he is?” I said as I pulled back from the hug, she began to say something but was interrupted.

“Woah hey, sunshine! I was wondering why it suddenly got so bright in here.” The deep voice of none other than Derek Morgan came from beside us and he was, of course, donning his signature cheeky grin. I couldn’t help but grin back, even though my chest was nearly caving in on itself.

“Did Spence come in today?” JJ asked Morgan, whose brows immediately furrowed.

“No, I haven’t seen him today. I think he might be coming in late, I’m not sure. He’s been kind of off, lately.” Morgan said, eyes searching my own for an answer.

“He has, hasn’t he?” I exclaimed and the two nodded in agreement, “I’ve been worried about him, maybe all that emoji-talk finally got to him.” I laughed slightly, but stopped when I found Morgan’s expression shift.

“What do you mean? I stopped trying to explain emojis to him like months ago, if the genius doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it.” Morgan shrugged, unknowingly allowing the literal caving in of my chest to take place. JJ noticed the change in me immediately.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” She asked in her usual caring manner, but I could barely hear her over the rushing of my blood in my ears.

“Nothing, nothing. Um, if he comes in today, can you just give him this?” I dismissed the conversation and handed over the brown bag with the lunch I made, disguising the sharp exhale that left my lungs. Before JJ had the opportunity to utilize her profiling skills, I gave both of them a cordial nod and left the office.

My steps felt heavier with every collision against the tile, albeit the loud thumping of my heart drowned out reality around me. My mind warped itself around irrational thoughts as my loyalty to Spencer attempted to retaliate against the invaders. The concept of Spencer as dubious and sly fell foreign to me. However, that lack of knowledge only added fuel to the imminent blaze that engulfed my head and stomach.

I swarmed with alternate realities, trying to make sense of the unknown. If Spencer was aware of my method of defining a solution, I would’ve been scolded by my naivety and illogical thinking. Oh to be a scientist–to have a mind like his. It’s a gift yet a heavy burden to carry. Is that it? Was that it? Does he not believe I’m capable of understanding a mind like his? Was I stupid? No. He had shared intimate momentos of his life before, so what was it? What can I not offer…What can I not promise to make him drift away like this?

It must have been me, right? I must’ve hit a boundary the last time we spoke! Or was it his work? No. By the time my thoughts stopped buzzing, I realized my feet carried me to the park I intended to visit earlier with Spencer. An unfamiliar pang hit my chest, sending reverbing waves throughout the cavity. A sort of ache rested in the core of my heart–something I didn’t think I would feel when reflecting on my relationship with Spencer–my Spencer. I guess I was so used to the warm bubble he fabricated that I forgot how cold the real world was.

Was that it? Did I stop being that for him too?

The thought of the slow degradation of our relationship sent a chilling shock through my veins while I swallowed pins and needles. My hand rested on a park bench next to me, letting myself use the wooden beams as support. Looking out into the far pond in the center of the park, I pulled myself to take a seat. The wind began to whistle through the trees, and the lake of glitter–the nickname I gave whenever the sun casted its glow onto the surface–lost all of its beauty. Crickets didn’t even dare to sing their usual melody and birds flew south to their homes. The breaths I took kept going nowhere, dissolving into nothing even though my chest expanded and retracted.

I pulled at the ends of my sleeves, tucking my knees into my chest as the air grew crisp. Questions of infidelity and unfounded justifications collided creating a mass of insatiable curiosity. My head coincided with entropy–it enjoyed the chaos–until suddenly it went blank. Every tether that kept me grounded vanished, my consciousness going into autopilot. I didn’t even realize the burn that resided in my eyelids or the wet streaks coating my cheeks–maybe from the dryness or something more. It was only the small drop of water landed on the back of my palm that pushed me out of the addicting trance.

Another one had landed on my forehead. And another one. And another one. I cringed as I felt the water drip from my head to the crevice of my ear. The clouds began to rumble a somber tune as it began to rain. Plucking myself from the bench, I made no hurry to make it back to the house. In a way, the droplets cascading the skin distracted me–seemingly blissful compared to the former events.

Once again, my feet held a prominent consciousness as it was the only part of me that was stable, leading me to the doorstep of my apartment complex. With what felt like a last ditch effort, I checked my phone for any new messages from Spencer. My heart lurched seeing a new notification pop up. To my surprise, it was from him.

With a deep breath and newfound hope, I unlocked the device, taking a moment to gaze at the picture of I and Spencer on the screen, before proceeding. My shoulders dropped, the tight squirming in my stomach halting. A hopeful smile crept on the corners of my lips, the previous distrust dissipating from my unreliable mind as I read the words displayed in front of me.

“Date night tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night couldn’t come quick enough. It somehow felt like I was holding my breath the entire day until I finally saw him. He was apologetic and sweet enough that it quieted my anxieties for a while. If he held any guilt or shame, it wasn’t apparent, or maybe he hid it well. Or maybe I was being ridiculous and reading far too much into things that could be circumstantial. But this was Spencer…my Spencer, the tenderhearted, gentle soul who made way too many corny physics jokes.

Dinner went by much smoother than I expected, but I still felt like there were things unsaid. The words felt lodged in my throat, almost like an itch I couldn’t reach. Either by mindless habit or by sheer deliberacy, we ended up in our favorite park. The very park that I found myself running to in a fit of frustration yesterday. Our feet seemed to know the way of our usual path along the pavement. I wondered briefly if there was a place I stepped in twice without noticing it. There was a lull in conversation and before I realized it, the words escaped me stealthily.

“Hey, Spence?” I started, and he took his attention off his shoes to look at me, “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something.” The way the words stumbled ungracefully from my lips had me cringing. He lifted a brow in intrigue and caught my eye, silently profiling me and my nervous behavior.

“Anything, love.” The use of the amorous term caught me off guard and I had to swallow under his intense gaze. I felt myself open my mouth, but the words died on my tongue as the blaring of his ringtone took the place of my voice between us. It was almost as if the scratchy melody startled him because the way he snatched himself away from me to look at his phone was worrisome.

His brows bunched together as he took a look at it, “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

Without waiting for my confirmation, he pressed the phone to his ear and took a few large steps away from me, as if the space would give him more privacy. I suddenly felt extremely exposed without him by my side.

The emptiness beside me lingered of his scent, almost mocking me, the words constricting my tongue. If I had a second longer, maybe the phone call would’ve been obsolete, maybe for the first time in a long time he would’ve been selfishly mine, even for another moment. I found myself suffocating in the same place I was yesterday like some poetic injustice. Perhaps I’m just a marionette, dangling from loose strings as the universe had their way with me. Frankly that would be less upsetting than watching Spencer slip through my fingers, knowing that it was possibly me who sealed that fate, and not some otherworldly being. It would’ve been my doing, and that’s something I’m not yet ready to realize.

Maybe it was my undying curiosity or growing twinge in my chest every second passed that led me to consult the moral figures weighing down my shoulders. At two opposing extremes, they debated the right course of action–or if doing the right thing was even the course of action to consider. Surprisingly in the end, it was my impulsivity that answered for me, wasting no time to stipulate consequences.

I shook off the twisting feeling in my stomach, pushing myself off in Spencer’s direction. I kept justifying my actions by telling myself that all I would be doing is checking on him, although the underlying motive was nothing under disguise. I whispered the same mantra to myself with every inch closer. I gritted my teeth as the antsy sensation traveled to my shoulders, slowing my steps to contemplate my reasoning.

What am I doing? A harsh exhale of detest left my lungs, leaving a light yet deserved burn in my esophagus. It seemed incredulous to me that I was willing to eavesdrop on my own boyfriend, although it didn’t seem like that minutes ago. I bit the inside of my cheek in shame, turning myself around.

Has this all been in my head? No, it can’t. Then why would he lie? He wouldn’t, but he did. Confusion set deep within me, however it was my guilt that left an everlasting mark. Maybe Spencer had his reasons, he would never deliberately fib–at least the Spencer I knew would never. But what if that’s it? Did I really know Spencer that well? The world around me closed in rapidly, my senses overwhelmed. Did I make him lie? It would make sense considering my recent possessiveness. Did he see that? Did I drive him away?

I bit down on my bottom lip, threatening to break the skin. I ran my hand through my hair several times, taking a few calming breaths to compose myself. No, I can’t think like that. This is Spencer, he’s my Spe–no, maybe he never was mine?

Unable to contain my contradicting thoughts any longer, I shifted around with a newfound determination. Pushing the bile building up at the bottom of my stomach, I prepared to march my way to him. My body set aflame with feigned confidence, hopefully enough to fuel the overpowering desire to know the truth.

To know whether the truth actually lied in the irrationality of my mind

To know whether the truth lied in the coarseness of my behavior.

To know whether the truth lied in the prospects of Spencer’s job.

To know whether the truth-

“I guess I’ll see you on Thursday!” Spencer smiled with endearment–a smile I thought was reserved for me. “It’s a date…”

To know whether the truth was that he was no longer mine.

part 2 feedback is always appreciated!

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #mia <3

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Note

Okay but this cheating Drabble/one shot thing you got going on is GOLDEN. Dabi and S/O tie up hawks so he has to watch dabi be better to S/O than hawks ever was.I have so many thoughts right now.Head full,head so full.

thank u for this one. part 4, the final one, of the cheating dabihawks x reader drabble series. a spontaneous bit of continuity :’^)

also, throwing this in here to, i just hit 2k. thank y’all so much. like. endlessly. thank u for engaging and reading and being here. i love y’all.

now, heres some FOOD

warnings: humiliation, degradation, revenge sex, restraints, subby keigo

|| part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 (final) ||

Watching Keigo squirm in the wooden chair, bound and nearly wingless, was fucking heaven. He looked fairly pathetic, all things considered. Ordering him to strip naked while Dabi gave you the same treatment was euphoric. The little, swollen tears that dripped down Keigo’s face might’ve been concerning, but the slap of his fat cock against his abs was telltale.

The bastard enjoyed it.

It had to be humiliating, watching one of your worst enemies (or fuck buddies? It was hard to tell with them) feel up your ex while you moaned, all high and gasping and pretty, just for Dabi.

You took pleasure in strapping him into the plain chair. He’d shuddered as you tightened his binds, cock leaking against his tummy.

You spit in his mouth for it.

...

His dick leaked more.

“God, he’s such a slut, should've known,” Dabi drawled from the bed, seated on its edge. He patted his clothed thigh. “Come on, over here, baby.”

You complied, swaying your hips in a way that you knew drove Keigo wild. Or, did, maybe, if he hadn’t been lying about that as well. You could hardly care. Maybe Keigo was the sex demon in bed that tabloids made him out to be, but he didn’t grace you with that side of himself. You assumed, rage boiling in your gut, that that was more than likely saved for his side piece.

You dropped onto Dabi’s lap, facing Keigo with a grin on your face. Dabi instantly was on you, guiding and twisting your face to tongue fuck your mouth. There wasn’t reverie in it (though, Dabi had shown you that in the aftermath of it all), it was just ownership.

Claiming.

Your hands wound into Dabi’s hair, his hands going to your tits, your thighs, even scalding the skin of your throat.

You loved every second of it.

When you stole a glance at Keigo, you nearly came on the spot.

He was stone still, mouth open, and nearly drooling. His cock stood flushed and proud against the toned plane of his stomach. A steady stream of preek leaked from the tip, a few stray tears splattering down and mixing into the mess.

“Messy boy,” you hummed, quickly turning back to Dabi.

Dabi was happy to indulge in your revenge fantasy. You wanted Keigo to feel like shit, and Keigo got off on feeling like shit and wanted to feel like shit for being such a piece of shit. It all worked out squarely. Plus, Dabi would get to watch the hero’s mind shatter while he reamed you so hard, you’d pass out.

You were too good for Keigo, anyways. Way too nice, way too pretty, way too fucking caring to be with someone who fucked around with you like you were just common trash. Dabi truly did respect you, especially since seeing the way you ground the heel of your words and actions into Keigo’s ego.

Dabi liked seeing people break. Getting to be the tool to break you while shattering Keigo (and his cock) was his absolute pleasure.

You writhed on his lap, grinding your hips against his stiffened cock, whines bubbling from your lips when the balls of the piercings rubbed against your puffy clit.

“Awww, Keigo,” Dabi sneered the hero’s true name like it was rotten wine. “How does it feel to see your little dove getting someone else’s cock?”

Keigo whined, biting his lip so hard, it might as well have bled.

“I’m not his,” you bit out, tugging at the roots of Dabi’s hair, tilting his head. You sucked along his neck, relishing the low groans and moans he released. They were counterpointed, like some sort of sick harmony, with Keigo’s high whines and... pleas?

You would’ve thought that Keigo would have begged for forgiveness. Begged to be heard out, begged to be given another chance. You expected the same dribble he’d been spewing since you’d caught him those weeks ago.

But, what you were given was sweet, sweet cries for—

“Please, please, one of you, please — !” Keigo sobbed against his binds. “Touch me!”

Maybe you would’ve paused.

But, not Dabi.

Dabi fucked up into you in a single, swift motion, slick gushing from your cunt onto the sheets below. You yelped, sobbing into the air as Dabi gave you a few precious moments to flutter around his girth. His scarred hands and arms hooked under your thighs, bearing all of you to Keigo.

You were all certain that the visceral image of Dabi, balls deep in your cunt, wouldn’t ever leave any of your minds, no matter the angle that you were viewing or experiencing it from.

“Please —” Keigo sputtered, cock head burning a deep red. It was cruel to leave him untouched. “It hurts.”

Good.

“You know,” Dabi huffed, raising you up, then dropping you onto his cock again. You tore the air with your screams of hot pleasure. “You’re hopeless, Keigo.”

Keigo cried, truly cried, hanging his head. You were too fucked out to give your own retorts, mind spinning as Dabi fucked you perfectly with each thrust, hard and deep.

“You had such a nice piece of ass. Real sweet. Cares, really does. Fucks like a whore and pleases like a wife.”

You and Keigo both keened, the shame of it all burning your cores like hot irons.

“But, you, you self-righteous, lazy-ass bastard, left your sweet girl on the sidelines for months? Couldn’t even bother to tell her. Strung her along like cheap pearls, right, Kei’?”

Keigo legitimately wailed at the use of his real name, breaths coming harsh and fast. Your head lolled back against Dabi’s chest, eyes wide, glazed and fucked out.

“That’s fine, though. I can fuck her like she deserves. Slow and deep if she wants, rough and fast, any way and any time. She’s more than earned it, putting up with a prick like you for so long.”

Keigo hung his head, hair soaked with sweat as his hips attempted to roll against his binds. You were begging under your breath, little words and sweet nothings as Dabi thumbed at your clit. He was getting close, all of the monologuing getting him a lot more hot than he anticipated.

“And you know what else, Keigo? You threw her away for some cheap model who only wanted your ‘name’. You really are the hero people say you are — throwing away what matters most to you!”

Oh.

Dabi fucked up one last time into you, slamming against your cervix and filling you. He kept his hand on your stomach, pressing and feeling the twitching of your cunt as you spasmed through your own orgasm, going rigid on his chest.

Your sweet cries of his name suffocated the air.

And Keigo?

Poor fucking Keigo.

As Dabi roused himself from his euphoria, leaving a few stray kisses on your crown, he paused.

What a sick fuck.

Keigo’s head hung limp. For a moment, Dabi thought he had passed out.

Oh no.

Keigo was sucking in breaths, panting like the hound he was, cock soft and sticky in his lap. Cum painted his face, tangled in his hair, dripping onto the floor and chair below as he weeped with a relieved smile on his face.

This might just work out.

#justfuckingpeachy #salem writes #drabble #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #dabi #hawks #dabihawks x reader #dabi x reader x hawks #thank u all :'^)#just a lil weepy with some beer in my tum over here #enjoy the food #:''^))

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autumnsart22 · 3 years

Text

Suna x reader: Final part (smut)

Here’s the final part to my Suna series! I wasn’t satisfied with my fluff version of the ending (which you can read here if you’re interested) so I decided to write a more smutty version.

Warning: degradation, angry sex, light choking, mostly just a lot of degrading lol

I genuinely think this is the hottest fanart I’ve ever seen of him I can barely look at it without ✨butterflies✨.

Art creds go to @minghuaa_art on twitter!

Despite Kita seeing you that day in the car, Suna still asked to keep whatever was between you a secret. That was fine with you--you didn’t particularly want a boyfriend, especially with the second semester of college work picking up. You still got to see him pretty often, hooking up in his car or your dorm at least three nights a week or more. Never the frat house; apparently his roommates were annoying.

It was nice. Easy. Far easier than you ever expected friends with benefits to be. And beyond the sex, you loved talking to Suna; laying together on your tiny bed, legs tangled, while he explained the new music he was listening to, or walking together to the cafeteria as he made you laugh so hard that water came out of your nose.

The good parts were enough to overlook the bad parts. At first.

Suna was an abnormally horrific texter, barely ever responding within the day, if at all. If you ever wanted to get in contact with him, you’d have to call directly. And honestly even then he didn’t have the best track record.

What was more frustrating was that it was always on his time. He would text you asking to hang out that night, and you would say yes, and then he wouldn’t respond until the following afternoon with some vague excuse about being busy. The first few times it happened, you got so mad that you didn’t respond to his calls, until he showed up at your dorm with panda express and forced you to watch Tokyo Ghoul with him.

He had apologized...but it didn’t stop happening. It made you feel like you were some sort of side whore, who he called when he was bored and had nothing better to do. Like you were second best to everything else he had going on in his life.

You had promised yourself from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to get close enough to get hurt, but it was hard. You really, really liked him.

You liked the way he would stare at you while you talked, actually listening and curious as to what you had to say. You liked the way he hugged you after a few days of not seeing each other, burying his face in your hair like he couldn’t get close enough to you. You liked the way he laughed, both the usual, quiet chuckles and the rare snorting wheezes. You liked the way his mouth looked when he smoked, the way he moaned your name when he came, the way he could make you laugh at anything at any time.

You didn’t want to get the “I told you so” talk from Kiyoko, so you avoided the topic all together: with her, and yourself.

After one month of hanging out with Suna, you were planning on meeting up and going to see a movie. Both of you were more homebodies, preferring to stay in rather than party, but you had decided that you wanted to try and expand your horizons once again. The movies seemed like a happy compromise.

The film was something Suna had been talking about for a while, an action thriller that honestly looked like shit but got good audience reviews because of all the flashy fight scenes. He had been so excited when it came out that you hadn’t been able to say no to going, especially not after he pried you with food.

He was coming to get you at 6 pm, and your last class ended at 3pm, which gave you plenty of time to get ready. You stared at the face of your teacher on the screen within your zoom class, zoning out as he explained the flood system around the school. You glanced over as your phone buzzed, a message from Suna popping up on the screen.

Suna

Wha u doying rit now?

You

What?

Suna

Sorr little drynk

You

You’re drunk?

Suna

im at psrty

You

Are we still seeing a movie tonight?

There was no response, and you felt your stomach drop. You didn’t even notice as your teacher ended class and logged you off the meeting. Suna was at a party at 3 in the afternoon, drunk, and didn’t seem to remember you had plans. You swallowed, shoving your phone aside as you ground your teeth. Why was he so frustrating?

You stood up, angry at yourself for caring, furious at Suna for making you feel this way, for being such a piece of shit. You knew what party he was probably at--Kiyoko had said she was going at some point--and suddenly you were moving before you could think about it.

You dressed nice, but casual enough that it wasn’t out of place at a frat party. Sexy enough to make him want you though, of course.

You didn’t give yourself time for nerves as you strode from your dorm and headed in the direction of the frat house, following a steady stream of people already going in that direction. You knew it was Friday, but how the fuck were so many people already getting ready to party when it was literally 3:30????

It wasn’t overly crowded in the house when you entered, but enough where it was confusing as you wandered through the crowd. You snatched two drinks from the counter, downing them as fast as possible as you searched for Suna in the crowd. You’d need to be at least tipsy before having this confrontation.

You found him in the living room, sprawled out on the couch next to who you recognized to be Akaashi, Kuroo, Kita, and Iwaizumi--all who you knew through Kiyoko. There were a few others you didn’t know, and they were all clearly drunk out of their minds.

As you entered the room, Suna met your eyes for a brief moment, but then they moved on without a reaction. He didn’t care at all that you had come to find him, or that he had never responded to your text.

The drink in your hand trembled, and you walked out of the room without looking back.

Instead of talking to Suna, you decided to get wasted. An hour after first coming to the party, you were deep in a game of beer pong and you had a pleasant warmth in your gut, the world a little hazy. You felt braver, more angry, and suddenly all you wanted to do was track down that yellow eyed idiot and slap him.

“Where’s Suna?” You slurred, turning to look at your partner at beer pong. You knew him vaguely as one of the frat boys, Suna’s friend Atsumu.

Atsumu grinned, raising his eyebrows as he stared down at you. “Suna? Why?”

You weren’t drunk enough to tell him of your “friendship” with Suna, so you just shrugged.

“He’s over there,” Atsumu pointed towards the kitchen, and you felt all the blood drain from your face as you followed his gaze. Sitting in a chair, his back to you, was Suna...and on his lap was a beautiful blonde girl with her hands in his hair as she kissed him fiercely.

You must have made some sort of sound, because Atsuma looked back at you. “You good?”

You forced yourself to nod. “I’m...going to go get some fresh air.”

“I’ll come,” he said, and you decided not to argue.

Seeing Suna had sobered you up considerably, but your emotions were still a complete mess. All you could feel was a deep, unending hurt.

As you headed down the hall, Atsumu grabbed your wrist and spun you around to face him. “So...you and Suna huh?” He said, a strange smile on his face.

“What are you--?”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to keep it a secret.” He took a step towards you, and you raised your eyebrows.

“We aren’t together.”

“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind,” He gently took your chin, lifting your face. “If I did this?”

“I--”

“What the fuck.”

All the breath wooshed out of you at the familiar voice, which was now laced with anger. Suna stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets as he watched you and Atsumu. He was smiling, but it was icy with rage and...jealousy?

“Suna,” Atsumu grinned, releasing your face but not stepping back. “What do you want?”

Suna jerked his chin in your direction. “How about you get away from her, and then we’ll talk?”

“Dude,” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “She just told me she was single. I don’t get what the problem is.”

Suna’s face tightened. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here in the next three seconds, I swear I will break your--”

“Chill, ok!” Atsumu stepped back from you, given you a frustrated look before heading away down the hall.

When he was out of sight, Suna’s head slowly turned to face you, his eyes dark. “Single?” His voice was a low snarl.

You swallowed, feeling your anger return full force. How dare he. “Yes!” You snapped, “Since you clearly don’t view this as any sort of relationship.”

“What are you talking about?”

“So you can go off kissing other girls, but I can’t flirt with Atsumu?”

“Looked like a bit more than flirting,” he said, teeth bared, before the other part of what you said caught up to him. “And how drunk are you? I wasn’t kissing shit!”

“Are you seriously lying to my face right now? I saw you!”

“I didn’t kiss anyone! Do you really think that little of me?”

You clenched your fists. “Atsumu said--”

Suna was in your face in a second, towering over you as he backed you against the wall. “What did he say?” He growled.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him in silence.

Suna gave a dark chuckle. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”

You barely had time to react before he gripped your chin, kissing you roughly and shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, and the sound snapped whatever restraints Suna had. His hands ran down the back of your thighs, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you through the nearest door into a random bedroom. He kissed down your neck as he kicked the door shut, and you gasped as he tossed you on the bed.

Your eyes slid down his chest and across his toned stomach as he pulled his shirt over his head, completely at a loss for what to do. You could feel the heat pulsing between your legs, making your heart race and your body tremble. But this was wrong. Right?

You didn’t have anymore time to think about it as Suna gripped your ankles, dragging you to the end of the bed.

“Why do you still have clothes on?” He snarled, yanking your leggings off and leaving them in a tangled mess on the floor. His eyes darkened as they swept over the pair of lacy underwear you had worn, sliding towards your center where you kept your thighs clenched tightly together.

He didn’t say a word as he forced your legs apart, dropping to his knees at the end of the bed, yanking down your underwear, and positioning one of your legs over his shoulder. You shuddered as his hot breath caressed you, and he ran lazy circles along the inside of your thighs with his long fingers.

“Fuck…” He murmured under his breath before looking up at you. “Do you want me to--”

“Stop teasing me Suna,” you groaned, shifting your hips, and he laughed darkly.

“Fine.”

You practically screamed at the first sweep of his tongue, managing to turn your face into a pillow to muffle your noises as he worked around your clit and used his fingers in your core. You bucked your hips up into his face, and his laughter vibrating through your body almost had you coming within the first minute.

You let out a low cry of protest as he pulled away, raising his head to glare at you. His mouth was covered in your juices, his hair rumpled and eyes glassy. He leaned over you, yanking away the pillow you had been using to cover your mouth and throwing it across the room.

“What are you--”

“I want to hear you begging for it,” he snapped, and you managed to roll your eyes before he shoved his fingers back into you.

“You’re so--ah!” You shuddered.

Over the course of a month of fucking each other, Suna had figured out exactly how to make you fall apart under his tongue and fingers, so it didn’t take long for him to work you into an early climax. Your legs shook, and you let out a series of moans as you came all over his mouth.

He got to his feet after making sure he had licked you completely clean, gazing down at you with possessive smugness.

“Why do you look so fucked out already? We’ve barely gotten started.”

You didn’t even argue as you got onto your knees on the bed, hands sliding into his hair as you kissed him angrily, unsaid words erupting. He allowed you to shove him onto the bed, and you focused on unzipping his pants and throwing them aside, ditching your shirt and bra along with it. His boxers went next, and then you had his dick in your hands, stroking it while Suna groaned.

“Here,” he panted, tossing you a condom, and you slid it over his cock just like he taught you. You positioned yourself over him, impatient, your knees on either side of his hips as you thrust yourself down on him in one go. You both moaned at the feeling of finally having him inside you.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, slowly rolling your hips as you rested your hands lightly on Suna’s chest. You went slow, taking the time to feel how deep he reached inside you, the movement on your clit enough to send tingles up the rest of your body.

Suna watched you ride him lazily, his yellow eyes half closed as he took in the way your naked body shifted to move on top of him.

“Ha, you’re doing so good...god--you’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, and you glared down at him.

“You make me so...mad…” You managed between pants of pleasure, and Suna raised his eyebrows.

“You can still talk? I guess I’m not doing enough…”

Before you could protest, he flipped you over so that you were lying on your back with him hovering over you, his dark hair falling around his face as he gripped your throat lightly.

“You’re such a little cumslut aren’t you?” He murmured in your ear, and you arched slightly. “Don’t you ever try and fuck someone else again, got it? You’re only allowed to come around my cock.”

You moaned in agreement, and Suna rolled you over onto your stomach, dragging your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He gave you no warning as he thrust back in, practically fucking you into the mattress.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he used his fingers to reach around and rub your clit, his other hand running along your breast. You could barely think through the pleasure, and the only coherent word you were managing to say was his name.

Suna leaned over you, yanking your head back to murmur in your ear. “You’re mine, got it?” His words were rough, and you clenched hard around his cock. You could feel your second orgasm approaching, and he could tell too by the way you shuddered around him. He paused in his motion, and you wiggled your hips in protest, trying to get him going again.

“Why’d you stop?” You snapped, glancing over your shoulder when he didn’t continue.

Suna grinned. “Beg for it, bitch.”

He moved slightly, letting you feel the friction, and you gasped in anger and pleasure. This bastard wanted to tease you, make you submit to him…

Despite knowing this, you broke almost immediately. “Please, Suna, please please, I need you so bad--”

Immediately, he picked up his pace once again, adding more pressure to your clit, and you jerked. “That’s a good girl.”

“Ah, ah, Suna, fuck, I love-- you, ahhh…” You cried, feeling moisture spill down your thighs as your stomach erupted for the second time that night.

For a moment he stilled, and you bit your lip in tired confusion. Did he want you to beg again? You weren’t sure you had another round in you.

You looked over to see him with a shocked expression on his face, but it quickly melted into smugness again once he caught you staring at him. “Of course you love me while I’m fucking you like this,” he growled finally. “It’s because you’re such a slut for it, right?”

Your mouth dropped open, but you didn’t have time to say anything as he started moving once again, making you yelp at the overstimulation. Had you said you loved him? Out loud? Oh my god…

“Have I fucked you stupid already?” he purred in your ear, pulling out of your dripping cunt before slamming back in and picking up his pace. You moaned loudly, thrusting your hips back to meet his as all thoughts flew from your head.

“S-Suna I--” You could barely speak, it felt so good, despite the fact that you had already come. Twice.

He began to pant in your ear, groaning as his grip on your hips tightened.“F-fuck--” He grunted, arms sliding around your waist as he jerked and came.

You both collapsed on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, and Suna easily pulled the condom from his dick before tying it and tossing it in the trash. After a long moment, you rolled to your feet to padded over to where your clothes lay--until you realized that your leggings had a massive rip in them.

“Suna!” You cried, holding up the fabric. He raised his eyebrows, and had the decency to at least look vaguely guilty.

“Sorry.”

“What do I wear?!”

“Here.” He threw the shirt he had been wearing earlier at you, and you gave him a glare.

He had already wiped himself down with the tissues on the counter, and had pulled on his sweatpants once again, leaving him shirtless. His eyes swept lazily down your still naked body, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and you crossed your arms in annoyance.

“Suna,” You snapped, but finally pulled his shirt over your head, not seeing another option. “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” you said, before heading out the door without waiting for a response.

The bathroom was thankfully right down the hall, and thankfully empty. You didn’t feel very guilty about fucking Suna when you should have been communicating in a healthy way, but you definitely still felt mad.

After you had wiped all the fluids from your inner thighs and core, you headed back to the room to grab the rest of your stuff.

You found Suna on his phone lying on the bed, but he looked up as you came in.

“Where are you going?” He said as you gathered your stuff, and you huffed.

“Back to my dorm.”

“Wait,” he lunged out of the bed and grabbed your arm. “Don’t go.”

“Now you want to spend time with me?”

“Just...stay. Please.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Fine.”

His expression relaxed into a happy smile, and he dragged you onto the bed with him before flicking out the lights. You weren’t sure what time it was exactly, but you were sure it was far past two in the morning. Your eyelids drooped as Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

You were right on the edge of sleep when he murmured, “Did you mean it?”

Immediately you were awake; you knew exactly what he meant. “U-um--” You hadn’t worked out any of the problems between you two, and you were sure he didn’t feel the same way. How were you supposed to admit to loving him like this?

“It’s fine,” he finally muttered. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

You swallowed. “Yes. I did mean it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you felt Suna tense around you.

“Really?”

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to say it. “Yes... I love you.”

You felt his sigh against your air, ticking the little hair on the back of your neck. His hand slid across your stomach while the other gently began to stroke your hair, and the movement had you relaxing despite the tears that had built up at his lack of response.

You closed your eyes and set it aside; you would deal with it tomorrow. Now, it was time for sleep.

“I love you too.” You heard, so soft that it was almost just a breath of air.

It was probably just a dream.

#suna #suna x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarō #haikyuu suna #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #smut

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

Crashed The Wedding ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

GENRE: Non idol au, wedding, angst with fluffy ending, high school sweethearts, establushed relationship

PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! I did a different kind of take on it so I hope it’s okay?

All week leading up to your wedding day you'd had a feeling in your chest that you weren't able to shake. It was the feeling that something was going to happen, something bad but you just weren't sure what. Normally you could trust your gut feelings but with it being your wedding you were putting the feeling down to nervousness. After being with Jungkook for almost Thirteen years you were finally tying the knot with friends, family and everyone else watching. It had taken you seven years of saving up every penny you earnt to be able to do this. Both of you wanted the wedding to be special and the time was finally right! High school sweethearts marrying one another after so long brought a lot of attention to your small town. Old teachers from the high school you attended together had even seen you around and decided to congratulate you and ask to go to the afterparty which you agreed with.

"Something's still playing on your mind isn't it?" Your best friend asked as she buttoned up the buttons on the back of your dress. It was a white lace mermaid gown with a sweetheart neckline and a small train at the bottom. Elegant and stylish and not too out there for the small wedding that was happening in the local church.

"There's just something wrong, I can feel it, Mina." You whispered as she finally did up the last button and turned you around to face her.

"The rain isn't here, remember...That was the only thing that was making you uneasy." She tried to reassure you but it did nothing but make the gut feeling grow in size. It was the perfect day for the perfect wedding, the sun was beaming down over the church despite the forecast being rain all weekend. When you first heard that it was supposed to be raining all weekend for your wedding you and Jungkook had expected showers but the only rain that morning had been a small spritz as you drove towards the church.

"Would it make you feel better if you got to talk to him?" Mina quizzed when she noticed you beginning to play with the beads on the dress.

"Please," You whispered as she smiled at you, kissing the top of your head as she turned to leave the room. Not before yelling at you to hide behind the changing screen so that Jungkook wouldn't be able to see you when he walked into the room.

Both of you had decided that you wanted to not see one another until you were walking towards him down the aisle to make it all the more special when he did finally see you. The night before Jungkook had stayed the night at Jimin's house, his best man while you stayed with Mina. Your maid of honour. The two of them doing their best not to let you text one another or spoil anything that would be happening today, five times Mina had to stop you from showing Jungkook pictures of your dress in the past but you couldn't help it. You and Jungkook shared everything with one another, no matter what it was. The dress had to be a surprise so nobody wanted you to show him and then when you reunited it would be more special.

The door to your changing room opened and you smiled as you heard Jungkook's voice fill the room as he called out to you that he was there. He stood just behind the changing screen and held out his hand for you to take it,

"I told you everything would be okay, didn't I?" He whispered to you as you sighed in relief poking your hand out from behind the changing screen to hold onto his.

"Maybe I just needed to hear your voice," You smiled even though he couldn't see you, whenever he was around you was when you felt like you could relax the most. You always felt so at peace when he was near you.

"Baby, this is going to be fine. You're just nervous but I am too." He placed a small kiss on your hand before the door to your changing room opened once again. Mina clapped her hands together loudly as she ordered Jungkook out of the room.

"That's enough, you'll see her in ten minutes. Out!" Jungkook laughed at Mina as he walked away from you and headed out to see Jimin standing there and waiting for him.

"Everything's ready? The music? The people?" You questioned as your father stood beside you smiling at you as he nodded along to everything you were asking him. He'd heard about how nervous you were about everything so he was doing his best to reassure you that everything was going as it should have been.

"Do me a favour?" You questioned as you brushed down your dress and looked up at him to make sure he was listening to you,

"Make sure I don't trip like I already took off the heels so just make sure I don't fall over my own feet." He laughed at you as you lifted up the bottom of your dress to show that you were actually barefooted.

"You're no going to fall, but I will make sure you don't trip if it makes you feel better." He promised as he held onto your hand a little tighter when the music began to play. It was time to start walking so you took the small bouquet from Mina who went out of the double doors first and then you were next.

The moment Jungkook turned around to look at you he began to tear up, tears streaming down his face as he realised you were about to take the first step to the rest of your lives together.

"Hi baby," You whispered as you reached the top of the altar, smiling at him as he kept crying heavily.

"You look beautiful," He managed to stutter out causing those on the front row that could hear you laugh as he wiped his eyes on his hand. A giant smiled spread across your face as you looked into his eyes, the gut feeling leaving your body as you looked at him. Once everyone had quietened down in the church the vicar began to talk to everyone while you and Jungkook joined hands.

"We are gathered here today to bear witness to unite these two people in marriage. Their decision to marry has not been entered into lightly and today they publicly declare their private devotion to each other. The essence of this commitment is the acceptance of each other in entirety, as lovers, companions and friends."

The ceremony continued until it came to the vicar turning to look at everyone in the crowded church, your mum was sitting in the front row crying as you dad held onto her. Mina was watching you closely as she cried silently, trying not to let her makeup run.

"If any person knows any cause as to why the couple should not be wed, they should “speak now, or forever hold their peace.” The room was silent and he smiled turning back to you and Jungkook ready to finish the marriage ceremony when a door slammed open. Everyone turned around in their seats to see who was standing there,

"I OBJECT!" Turning around you looked over at the main entrance to see one of your ex best friends from high school walking towards you. Stomping her feet as if she weighed the same as an elephant and she cried out that she objected over and over again. Areum had always had a flair for the dramatics whenever she was around,

"Areum this is a church not a fucking court," Mina snapped as she stood in front of you and Jungkook as if she was a shield between you and Areum who just gave her a filthy look. None of you had spoken to her since leaving high school all those years ago, she was nothing but a two-faced person who could do nothing but make everybody around her miserable.

"I have reasons why they shouldn't get married, he cheated on her with me. Last night." The whole church seemed to let out one loud gasp as you stared at Areum in front of you, your heart felt as though it was being crushed in your chest as everyone started at you this time. Waiting to see what would happen as if this was happening on tv and not just right in front of them. Your eyes were trained on Areum, her neck covered in purple hickies as she stared at you and then to Jungkook who seemed just as shocked as you did about this whole thing. Your father was on his feet now coming over to talk to Jungkook with an angry look on his face,

"It's not true, I never slept with her. Ever." He said as he looked directly into your eyes but your head was filling with images of them together, your heart racing as you thought about how he was only with Jimin the night before. You knew deep down that Jungkook would never do anything like that to you but your brain wasn't letting you think of anything except the two of them together. Jimin would easily lie for him if he really wanted to it wasn't as though you were close friends.

"You're just saying that because you know they spent the night apart, he was at home with Jimin the whole night. Right, Jimin?" Mina questioned turning to look at Jimin who was now staring at the floor and avoiding all means of eye contact. There was one thing that Jimin couldn't do and that was lying to Mina. They'd been best friends since you could remember and he couldn't lie to her, she knew every tell-tale sign of him lying.

"Jimin!" She snapped as you began to feel your hands getting sweaty, everyone staring at you and Jungkook as they waited for something to happen. No one had moved from their seats to try and make this less awkward,

"Well we went out for a couple of drinks last night and I lost him in one of the clubs but-" Jimin tried to defend himself but Areum cut him short as she yelled out loud enough for the whole church to hear her.

"And that was when he met me. Took me into the back of the stalls and fucked me," The gasps started again as it brought you back down into the church, the bouquet dropped out of your hands and you began sprinting down the aisle towards the changing rooms. Everyone staring at you as you did so watching the way you lifted up your dress to run.

"Babe! It's not true-" Jungkook was silence by the door to your room slamming as he stood at the altar. Your father was standing behind him now ready to either kill him for hurting you or kill Areum for ruining what was supposed to be his daughter's perfect day.

"You're a liar, Mina! Please I would never do anything to hurt her." Mina ignored him as she continued storming off after you, your father standing up beside Jungkook as he waited for some kind of explanation to come from him.

The door was being knocked on repeatedly but you weren't interested in hearing anything, you'd made Mina go and fetch the car around while you tried to get changed out of your dress but you couldn't do it alone. Instead, you sat down on the floor crying into your hands at the thought of Jungkook ever doing something like that. Your head and your heart conflicted with one another. The whole time you'd felt as though something was wrong and now this had happened. Maybe in your gut, you knew that Jungkook had done something bu even then it didn't feel right. After knowing Jungkook for so long you knew he wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone, he wouldn't even kill a spider.

"Babe please," Jungkook pleaded as he continued to hit his fists on the door, your father out there with him. You could hear them both talk to one another about how to let one of them in but you weren't going to.

"Listen to me, nothing happened. I went to the club, that's true but I promise you nothing happened between me and-" He stopped talking when the door swung open, you were standing there with makeup running down your cheeks. Sobbing as you stared into his eyes, searching for any signs that he was lying but he wasn't.

"Then why is she saying all of this why would she-" Jungkook cut you off before you could ramble,

"Because she hates us, remember why she wasn't invited in the first place? Why you haven't spoken to her in over ten years?" His hands were cupping your face as he stared into your eyes trying to calm you down and make you see the sense in all of this.

"S-She tried to tell me you cheated on me with her before." Memories of your time in high school came flooding back as you remembered her coming up to you in the middle of a lesson to tell you falsely that she and Jungkook had been sleeping together behind your back.

"We both know that I would never, ever cheat on you." You whimpered as you thought back on the church full of people that were all waiting for you to go back out there.

"Is she gone?" You mumbled looking over at your father who was smiling weakly at you, the second Jungkook had pleaded with him at the altar trying to convince him that nothing had happened he knew he was telling the truth.

"She is. I had your uncles escort her out after she claimed she still had Jungkook's DNA on her and she would prove it." You groaned at the thought and Jungkook looked at you,

"We can go back out there and get married or we can wait another month or two whatever you want, baby." The thought of putting off your wedding one more month was awful to you, you'd saved up for so long and nothing was going to ruin your big day with Jungkook.

"I want to get married," You reassured him as you walked back into the room and wiped the eyeliner and mascara that had been running down your cheeks.

"Ladies and gentleman! The bride and groom!" Your father announced, the double doors opening again so that you and Jungkook could walk back to the vicar again. The whole thing was explained away as a crazy ex-best-friend trying to ruin your perfect day.

"If any person knows any cause as to why the couple should not be wed, they should “speak now, or forever hold their peace.” Mina stepped out of place to look around the hall of people,

"If you have nothing nice to say then leave! There is no REAL reason why they shouldn't be married," You moaned at her to get back into her place and she smirked at you while the vicar continued on with the vows.

"Then you may kiss the bride," Jungkook smirked as he grabbed onto you tightly and dipped you down,

"I've been waiting all night for this." You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed you passionately in front of everyone. People cheering and clapping as they got up from your seats.

When you pulled away you smiled looking into Jungkook's eyes,

"Shall we go to the party, Mrs Jeon?" He questioned as he looked at you, raising his eyebrow as he got ready to pick you up in his arms.

"I think we shall Mr Jeon," You bit down on your lip as he picked you up and began carrying you out of the church in the direction of the waiting wedding car for you. The only thing you could see behind you was Mina holding onto Jimin's ear as she pulled him in the direction of their car, no doubt yelling at him for going out the night before your big day.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @sw33tnight @innersooya @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block

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17tetsuro · 4 years

Note

could u do fake dating headcanons where they slowly fall for u w atsumu, kenma & oikawa,, gn pronounces are fine :)

haikyuu boys slowly falling for you (fake dating edition) (gn!reader)

feat: atsumu, kenma, oikawa

warnings: fake dating, abuse of cliche tropes and commas and question marks, timeskip setting because im anything but creative, swearing

requests are open!

a/n: thank you for requesting this!! i hope you like it :D

atsumu

* you’ve been friends with him ever since high school and you watched his career grow

* youre both equally proud of each other n your friendship is built on mutual respect, trust and love

* you basically live in his apartment, with how much time you spend over there

* he would complain 24/7 about not having anyone to go to events with

* at one point you wanted to strangle him for never shutting up about it so you propose you go with him from time to time

* atsumu: “yeah, that was a setup”

* he KNOWS you’re drop dead gorgeous and everyone will be jealous of him that you’re with him (and you also look very good in formalwear, which he very much enjoys)

* and you get to have free food and drinks and also wear immaculate expensive clothes

* so,, you became his regular date for sponsorship events and stuff

* and you never really outright said you were just friends?? so you’re used to the media portraying you two as lovers but your close circle is aware that your relationship is platonic

* everything was going great until one of his sponsor company’s heir started hitting on you

* atsumu saw you flirting with the person and his mind went blank

* he,, he didn’t understand why he wanted to commit multiple crimes on the spot

* bokuto conveniently showed up next to atsumu at that moment

“hey, atsumu? why is your date flirting with them?” bokuto asked, suddenly appearing next to atsumu, which startled the latter out of his thoughts.

a better question would be why atsumu saw red at the thought of you getting friendly with anyone but him that night. he tried his best to keep his composure, but it was hard when you rested a hand on the heir’s shoulder, leaning your head back while laughing.

“atsumu, are you not going to answer me? your lover is-“

“my what?” atsumu asked, attention now completely off you.

“your lover? is that a term you don’t like? i could say partner... significant other... or anything you want, really,” bokuto answered, apologizing.

“you- you think me and (y/n) are together?”

“aren’t you? what, with the way you look at each other i was convinced you two were like... high school sweethearts or something, who hate pda,” bokuto explained, while atsumu’s eyes trailed back to you.

“you think... you think they’d wan’ me?”

“are you blind, buddy?”

you must have sensed their gazes, because as soon as those words left bokuto’s mouth, your eyes snapped towards atsumu and bokuto. the latter started waving with a cheerful smile while the former just stood, entranced by you and your presence. atsumu noticed traces of confusion appearing on your face, and watched as you excused yourself from the conversation you were previously interested in.

“‘tsumu, are you alright?” you questioned, approaching the pair. bokuto grinned and left, which made you even more confused.

“yeah, i’m fi- fine. hey, uh, (y/n), say... do you- why did you offer to come to these events as my date?” atsumu asked, eyes dead set on yours. you cracked a confused smile. you seemed to be capable of nothing but confusion at the moment.

“because you’re my best friend and i hated to see you so down because of your loneliness at these gatherings,” you replied, holding his gaze. “why didn’t you oppose it?”

his eyes studied you and when he saw nothing but sincerity, he let out a loud sigh. this was all very new and confusing to him. it’s like bokuto calling you atsumu’s lover set off a bomb inside his head that instead of causing a mess, made everything fall into place; why his gaze seemed to linger on you more often than before, why he was so eager to choose your outfits for these events, why he went to parties he didn’t even have to attend, why he got so jealous and angry when he saw you with the cute heir.

“holy shit,” he breathed and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle and lowering his gaze to the ground. “holy shit.”

“you look like you’ve been enlightened, and i love that for you, but ‘tsumu, i’m still very confused.”

“i’m in love with you,” he said in disbelief, and quickly snapped his eyes back to your face when he realized he said it out loud. “i- i mean- i’m not in love with you, no way in hell, you’re- you’re my best friend, you- you smack my head whenever i say somethin’ inappropriate, you keep me from underminin’ myself, you always lift my spirits and for fuck’s sake, please, stop lookin’ at me like that because i will be getting hopeful and if you’re just joking, i will never hear the end of it and-“

you finally hd enough of his rambling and cut him off with a kiss. at first he froze, but seconds later he melted into your embrace, hands sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

when your lips separated, atsumu gasping for air after his word vomit and the long kiss you shared, you spoke up. “miya atsumu, you’re a real dumbass, you know that?”

his breath hitched and you kept quiet for a second to let him suffer a bit.

“but you’re my dumbass. i love you, you absolute piece of work.”

atsumu honest to god giggled and leaned in for another kiss, which you gave him without hesitation.

somewhere in the room, bokuto was collecting the money sakusa promised to give him if he got you two to kiss.

kenma

* kenma and you are both twitch streamers with similar content so you knew of each other but weren’t properly introduced

* until one of your mutual friends invited you both to stream among us with them

* you obv accepted

* so during the 3 hr stream, you and kenma were imposters together a lot and had the biggest, most twisted imp plays

* a friendly competition broke out at one point, too, trying to see who exposed the most impostors between the two of you

* your fans ate your dynamic up

* from then on, you two interacted more and started to appear in each others’ streams

* kenma even invited you to his minecraft smp

* you became besties basically

* SO

* all fun and games

* and then a huge sponsorship opportunity rolled in

* and the people at the company assumed you were dating

* uh oh

* you couldnt just tell them they have it wrong bc the whole thing depended on your relationship

* so

* big brain kenma suggest you two start to “date”

* you were against deceiving your followers but kenma assured you you could have a public breakup and tell everyone you were better off as friends

* so you reluctantly agreed

* it was only for two months anyways, what could go wrong?

* both of you, on week 3, in separate discord calls: uh oh, im in l*ve

* you both tried to cope (read: repress everything) but the realization on both of your parts threw your dynamic off a bit and fans have noticed

* so you had to do something abt it

* so kenma suggested you try your hand at a minecraft challenge together

* it was all fun and games until it wasnt

* you somehow ended up flirting back and forth ????

* chat was goin crazy, even in sub only mode

* both of you: ha ha im in danger

* when the stream ended, you stayed on call, because that was a routine you stuck to no matter what

“so... how are you doing?” you asked kenma, trying to clear the awkwardness from the air.

“good.”

maybe you should have taken kenma’s refusal to talk about anything into account when initiating conversation.

kenma, on the other end of the call was anxiously playing with his fingers, trying to figure out if his chat was right, and you were indeed flirting with him. and him with you. god.

“hey, y/n,” kenma said after a while, “were you flirting with me?”

his bluntness startled you and you had to mute yourself for a few seconds while you collected yourself.

“is there a correct answer?” you asked hesitantly.

“yes.”

“oh... uhm, maybe? it wasn’t intentional. or maybe it was, subconsciously, i don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

“good. it was intentional on my part, i think,” and okay, that was not the reply you expected to hear.

“really?”

“yeah, i- i like you i guess,” he said, sounding more confident by the minute. “do you like me too?”

“i- yeah. i do. i like you, kenma,” you replied, sighing a breath of relief. it felt good to admit it aloud to him.

“do you- would you maybe want to come over?” he asked sheepishly, which made absolutely no sense because he sounded so confident a second ago. “we could play mario kart?”

you let the beaming smile you were holding back take over your face. “i’ll be there in 10, kenma.”

“i’ll be waiting for you.”

oikawa

* on god mans hated your guts

* like,, okay, you were iwa’s close friend but you were so annoyingly honest all the time

* it drove him mad

* what also drove him mad is the fact that you loved to tease him

* no matter what the circumstance, whether he was in japan or in argentina, you always found a way to make him blush

* okay so maybe hate is a strong word, because he kind of thought you were pretty, but in a platonic way

* dumbass

* iwa always give both of you shit for not liking each other

* so you came up with a big brain idea

* you: ”oikawa! we should date!”

* oikawa: “what”

* after you explained the concept of fake dating to him and its benefits (which included a staged dramatic breakup, giving you both a reason to hate each other without iwa complaining)

* he was totally down

* iwa, when he first saw you holding hands: “i knew it”

* SO!! thus began weeks of pretending to be in love with each other for the sake of iwa

* which turned from pretending to not pretending real quick for your liking

* falling in love with oikawa was not a plan of yours

* (falling in love with you wasn’t his, either)

* with iwa’s constant nagging of “i knew it, you both were head over heels for each other from the moment you met”, the time for the breakup came quicker than expected (maybe you both had enough. so what.)

* you agreed to do it in front of iwa so he could see it happen

* you chose a mcdonalds parking lot, because then you could storm off and iwa would follow you to make sure you were ok and oikawa could go home and sleep

* maybe winging it was not the best idea

“babe,” you said with venom, “haven’t i told you a thousand times that i do not want to hear about your exes? seriously, it’s like the only thing you talk about,” you complained, as your fake-boyfriend took a sip from his drink.

“well, babe,” his tone matching yours, “i would shut up about them if took the hint sometimes. maybe i don’t like going to the movies as much as you seem to, it’s boring,” he rolled his eyes, subtly glancing at iwa, who looked very uncomfortable third wheeling your argument. good

“jerk. i don’t even want to go to the movies that much, asshole,” you spat, crushing your empty cup in your hand.

“oh, you want to go to the movies plenty. face it, (y/n), you’re boring. no wonder you didn’t have a boyfriend before me,” he replied and his words, even though you knew were fake, still hit hard and you couldn’t help the tears gathering in your eyes.

“okay, then, thanks for these wonderful past few weeks, so glad you decided to take pity on me.” you tried to keep acting, encouraging yourself with the fact that if oikwa meant what he said, you wouldn’t have to talk to him if iwaizumi finally saw you two break up.

you expected a lot of things, but genuineness in oikawa’s eyes was not one of them.

“(y/n), i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that,” oikawa pleaded, clearly forgetting about your mutual goal.

with a mumbled whatever, you started walking home, letting the sunset wash over your face. when you knew you were out of sight, you sat down on a bench and just started crying.

you don’t know how much time passed, but you heard a voice behind you speak up.

“hey (y/n).”

“what the fuck do you want, oikawa? to rub in the fact that my first boyfriend was just faking it so his best friend would get off his back? leave me alone, jerk,” you said, trying to wipe your tears away.

“i- i didn’t mean it like that, please, believe me,” he replied, taking a seat next to you. you scooted away from him. he sighed.

“why would i believe you? why do you want to make up, anyways? this fight was pretty real, no way iwaizumi didn’t believe it,” you sniffed.

“because maybe... maybe i was very happy about the fact that i could be your boyfriend, even if it was fake. maybe i’m in love with you,” he said softly, leaning towards you.

“please, stop playing games. it’s over,” you replied, trying very hard to ignore the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“i really am, (y/n). i wasn’t at first, i admit it, but now i am. i love you, please, believe me,” he begged and you finally made eye contact with him. eyes were mirrors of the soul, after all.

you studied his face for a few minutes, looking for anything that could indicate he was trying to pull a shit prank on you, but you found nothing.

“asshole. maybe i’m in love with you too, what would you do if i said that?” you asked, wiping your nose with your sleeves.

“kiss you.”

“do it, then, i guess. but you’re still not completely forgiven.”

“what do i have to do to earn your forgiveness, (y/n)?” he asked and you sent him a mischievous smile.

“take the blame for this whole fiasco with iwaizumi.” he froze at your words and visibly gulped, but nodded nonetheless.

“okay, i will. can i kiss you now?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah.”

and he did.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #kenma x reader

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cdroloisms · 3 years

Text

more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !!

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”

#tw death #tw grief #tw torture #tw abuse #prison arc #pandora's vault #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #tw unhealthy relationship #tw emotional distress #tw memory loss #ghost!dream au #queue <3 #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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shotofire · 4 years

Text

Dream Catcher

•LEVI ACKERMAN x READER

•Overview: In which you own a stand to sell dream catchers, and Levi takes an interest in the concept

•Warning: Cursing, angst, mentions of sex, descriptive gore

•Season: Not specified

It had been going on for weeks now. Levi Ackerman would wake up pretty much every night covered in sweat and breathing so fast as if the air might run out. Nightmares were nothing new to him at this point. They came and went, but it had been a few years since they’d been this bad.

He wasn’t sure what had triggered the dreams. A mission hadn’t occurred in almost two months believe it or not. The reoccurring nightmares were always the same, down to the details. It started with him in a beautiful field filled with flowers, and the sun was warming his skin.

The peace in the beginning was always short lived, and soon he’d hear a terrified scream erupt behind him. The mood of the fresh air would change immediately, and everything around him had changed in the blink of an eye. Instead of a field filled with flowers it was a field scattered with dead bodies. It seemed to go on for miles, bodies covered in their own blood.

Scream after scream filled the air leaving no room for silence. He would watch as titans snatched up his friends and chewed their body parts like candy. He wanted to help them and he was skilled enough to do so, but his feet couldn’t move.

Everyone would be screaming his name and begging him for help. But the ground acted as if it were glue, keeping him in place as he watched everyone die. Every last person in the field would be ripped apart at ease, leaving him the last one alive. Tears would be streaming down his face as he saw the faces of everyone he cared about with fear struck expressions that would stare back at him.

The titans wouldn’t pay any mind to him. He’d be left alone with no one to care about, no one to love. Even though Levi would die before he admitted it, his greatest fear is to be alone. It’s not the fear of dying that leaves him paralyzed, why would he be scared of the inevitable? Being alone is avoidable and a more logical fear in his opinion.

Once a titan looked at him with a gut wrenching smile he’d sit up in his bed at full speed. His shirtless chest would be hot to the touch and sticky with sweat. There had been a few times he’d woken up with dried tears on his cheeks, or still in the middle of crying.

He pushed it aside at first thinking they’d just go away on their own and he’d be fine. None of his nightmares lasted more than a solid week because he’d find someway to get over them. But once it hit almost a month he was beginning to worry. His lack of sleep was catching up to him, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

Hanji had bugged him about it for about a week now. She constantly pointed out his dark circles and how slow he was starting to move. The women went as far as to call him ‘an old man’ just so he may tell her what’s going on.

“You look older today,” she whispered in his ear, as he drank some coffee, causing him to jump in surprise.

Levi rolled his eyes once he knew who it was. She just never seemed to go a minute without saying something. He’s been in the dining hall for maybe an hour and she’d already insulted him five times.

“Maybe it’s because i’m getting older,” he grumbles in annoyance.

She sits across from him with a loud thud. Her hands immediately reach across the table to grab his wrists which nearly causes him to drop his coffee. The man didn’t even have the energy to ask what the hell she was doing. Her eyes began scanning his face swiftly, taking in every detail.

“When was the last time you had a good nights sleep?” She asks before letting her tight grip on his wrists go.

He scoffs as if what she was talking about was way off. She basically jumps across the table to smack her palms on either side of his face, squishing it a bit. He grabs her wrists to move her grip but it’s no use, he was too tired and she was far too determined.

“I heard you gasp in your room last night when I was going to get a drink,” she says with narrowed eyes, “and I know you aren’t getting laid so it had to have been a nightmare.”

His mouth hands open at the somewhat insulting words that came out of Hanji’s mouth. How would she know he wasn’t getting anything? He pushed his eyebrows together in a knot and wanted to tell her to fuck off, but he kept himself together.

“So what if I did, it’s not a big deal,” he mumbles and she finally lets go of his face.

“It kinda is a big deal if it’s been going on for weeks,” she says while waving her hands in the air, “eye bags like those don’t form over night.”

He looks down at the wooden table so she’ll stop pointing out and looking at his sleepy features. He’s fully aware of how bad he looks but he’s too stubborn to get help. Hanji knows of Levi’s ways and that’s why she’s trying to annoy the hell out of him. She thinks if she bothers him enough he’ll seek help just for her to leave him alone.

“I know a way your nightmares can go away,” she says with her tone laced in excitement, “get a dream catcher!”

The man had never heard of a dream catcher. For a second he thought it was a drug, he wouldn’t put it past Hanji to try something ‘in the name of science.’ His confused features become prominent and she realizes she should probably explain what this dream catcher is.

“About a month ago I was having this awful dream and it kept going on and on. So I went into town to see a doctor for some strong sleeping medicine and then I saw this colorful sign that said,” she stood up to show how big the sign was, “dream catchers for sale!”

Levi was still beyond confused at this point. And his annoyance with how much energy she had this early in the morning was growing. He just wanted to walk away and get some paperwork done, and then hopefully be able to fall asleep without disruptions. Deep down he knew the dream was just going to happen again.

“The girl there will explain it to you, she will do a lot better job than me, but basically they get rid of your bad dreams,” the smile on her face was huge.

That’s when Levi became interested. So all he didn’t to do was get a dream catcher and this would all go away? It seemed easy enough. Hanji noticed the way his shoulder perked up and her smile only grew.

“It’s right next to that little tavern I forced you to go to with me that one morning, and it’s impossible to miss the sign,” she beams, “also the girl is cute, so you may leave with another prize.”

She wiggles her eyebrows and Levi can’t help but roll his eyes at the crazy women. She stands up quickly before strutting out of the room feeling victorious.

“Thank you Hanji,” Levi whispers just enough for her to hear.

“You’re welcome,” she sings back.

He’s left alone with his thoughts. Was he really going to go see whatever the hell Hanji was talking about? When it comes down to it she didn’t explain what it looked like or if it was a damn drug. He really was going into this blind, but his need for sleep was far too high to not atleast check it out.

Going into town wasn’t his favorite thing to do whatsoever. Most of the time he wouldn’t be seen walking around. Hanji would have to beg for hours, sometimes days, for him to leave base with her. In all the years of knowing him she’d only succeeded a handful of times.

Yet here he was walking through town with his hands stuffed into his pockets. It was rather noisy and crowded, which is what he hated the most. The sun was shining and children were out playing, running in the streets like no one else was around. He had nearly ate shit when a little girl ran infront of him as if he wasn’t there.

“I’m gonna go crazy,” he mumbled to himself.

Right as he turned the corner he saw that sign Hanji had described to him. Swirls of pink, purple, and blue were painted onto it and white block letters spelled out ‘Dream Catchers For Sale!’ His eyes observed the little stand and watches as a women handed the young girl money with a big smile on her face.

Once the women walked away and no one was occupying it he began making his way in that direction. The girl had turned her back before he’d gotten there, he could only guess she was putting away the money. When she turned back around her eyes widened and she jumped at his presence. The girls cheeks heated up as soon as she realized what she did.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t hear you come up and got a bit startled,” she says nervously.

Levi half smiles at the girl, and he kinda surprised himself with his own actions. He finds her awfully cute which he didn’t see coming. It had been a few years since he admitted to finding someone attractive. He looks behind her to see some sort of art, maybe, hanging on nails imbedded in wood. The girl had gotten a big slab of wood and painted it with the same colors as her sign.

“How can I help you?” She asks with a warm smile that makes his heart skip a beat. What the hell is going on with him right now?

“My uh,” he thought for a second, “my friend told me about this thing called a dream catcher. I wanted to get one possibly.”

She smiles and nods, happy to help someone.

“Well i’m (y/n) and i’d be glad to help you,” she beams.

Levi can’t help but abserve her beauty, and her name had a nice ring to it. She turned around to grab one of the objects hanging on the wall before bringing it back to him. She sets it down on the small table infront of her so he can get a better look.

He observes the object and found it rather interesting. There was a large circle at the top, appearing to be made out of wood, that had red string wrapped around and across it to create abstract patterns. More red string hung off the bottom of it, and at the end of those strings were white and grey feathers.

(y/n) watches as his eyes scan over it in curiosity. She loves the looks on people’s faces when they take in every detail of her hard work. He then looks up at her to see she’s looking at him, and his heart beat increases a bit.

“I’m Levi by the way,” he says, “And i’m guessing this is the so called dream catcher?”

She didn’t expect the stranger to tell her his name but she was glad he did.

“Nice to meet you Levi, and yes it is! Would you like me to explain the dream catcher a bit?” She says excitedly with her same smile that got prettier by the minute.

His answer comes in a nod.

“So, a dream catcher is supposed to prevent you from having nightmares, and it’s the healthy option too. Getting medicine you know little about can be dangerous and have negative effects,” she explains.

Levi can’t help but watch the way her lips move and eyes light up. She was rather endearing and knew how to keep your attention with her sweetness. He could tell she found joy in helping people, and he found that admirable.

“It’s not proven to work so don’t come yelling at me tomorrow if you still struggle to sleep,” she giggles, “it’s more of a positive energy object. If you put faith into it and wish it to work it most likely will, that’s what my grandmother always told me. Plus i’ll be handing it off to you with my positive energy!”

He couldn’t help but smile at how excited her tone was. She was happy to help him, a stranger, with her little creation.

“Basically just keep an open mind and gather up all of your positivity,” she says, “Oh and also you hang it on your wall, preferably near your bed. Even better if it’s above your head.”

She was sorta rambling due to the fact she found Levi extremely attractive. It’d been awhile since a man had found his way to her stand, let alone one who had such perfect features. Sure she’d noticed the bags under his eyes but she knew that was the reason he was here.

“Well uh, i’ll take it. Thank you for explaining to me (y/n),” he smiles softly.

The way her name rolled off his tongue sent a chill up her spine. His voice was so deep and smooth, she wanted to hear it in other ways. She pinched her wrist at the dirty thought that was beginning to creep into her head. This man could be crazy for all she knows.

Before she can tell him the price he’s already digging in his pocket and setting the money on the table. She could quickly tell it was more than what she charged.

“Let me get you your change-“ “No, keep it.”

Her cheeks heat up at his kindness. She was struggling financially right now, not many people found her business appealing.

“Actually,” he grabs more money and puts it with the stack on the table, “I’ll take two more.”

(y/n) can’t help but smile brightly at his actions. She grabs two more for him and puts all the dream catchers in a small basket then sets a note on top that Levi didn’t seem to notice. She hands it off to him and he smiles back at her.

“Thank you so much,” she says with her sweet voice that Levi found comforting.

“Of course,” he says, ��I’ll be back tomorrow to tell you if it worked for me, but it’s more of an excuse to see you again.”

Her eyes widen at his words and she’s sure her face reached a shade of red that it never had before. He watches as her features get all flustered at his words and he smirks. This girl truly was adorable and he had to come see her again.

“Have a nice rest of your day (y/n),” he says before turning his back and walking off.

“Y-You too,” she stutters. In that moment she wanted to face palm herself for being such a flustered mess. She’s just met him maybe fifteen minutes ago and he already had an effect of her.

That night Levi hung all three dream catchers on the wall above his headboard. When he went to put the basket on his desk he noticed the small yellow tinted piece of paper laying on the bottom, face down. He picks it up and sees the neat handwriting spread across it.

Thank you for supporting my business!

My positive energy is rooting for you to have a good nights sleep!

Levi smiles at the words, she were awfully kind. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from going to see you tomorrow, even if he had things to do. Her sweat voice range through his head as his eye lids became heavy. He laid down and it only took him a few seconds to fall into a deep sleep.

Tonight was the first night in weeks that Levi slept peacefully. There were no bad dreams, and no seeing his friends die. He’d slept so soundly then when he woke up he was kind of confused. That’s when it hit him, he’d just gotten a full night of sleep with no interruptions.

He stretched his body and it felt amazing. His eyes didn’t feel like bricks in his face, his head wasn’t pounding, and his body felt loose instead of stiff. He looked up at the dream catchers with a small smile on his face. The girls little creation had actually worked, but he thought it was her kindness that contributed to the good nights sleep.

Later that day he walked back to (y/n)’s stand and praised her for his good nights sleep. The blush on her face never seemed to leave the whole time they talked. And Levi couldn’t remember that last time he’d laughed this much during a conversation. If anyone who knew him saw him right now they’d think he was filled to the brim with alcohol. That’d be the only thing they could think of to make his personality do a three-sixty.

Levi ended up asking (y/n) to get coffee with him the next morning. It was the start to a beautiful relationship.

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years

Text

Sing You To Sleep | Chiluc Week Day 2

College AU/Only one bed/preforming arts

Chiluc Fluff | M/M

TW: Explicit Language

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“This is absolutely not happening.” He whispered under his breath, nails biting into his palms as he marveled at the vast room before him. The view of the city was beautiful, the balcony promising endless nights of twinkling lights and gorgeous starry skies. A full sized bed in the centre of the room lured him forwards, gently laying down his violin case to succumb to the soft sheets of the bed.

He took in a deep breath, relaxing as the faintest of smiles shyly touched his lips. The warmth of the linens was enough to almost lull him to sleep. To his dismay, a knock rang through the small room just as his eyes began to close. Hesitantly, he sat up, walking to the door to find his professor and a classmate behind him. Childe.

“Mister Ragnvindr,” he nodded, turning to present the out of breath ginger than gave a cheeky grin, monster and guitar case in hand, “Due to the sudden addition to the performances this week and lack of available rooms, Ajax here will be sharing this room with you for the remainder of this week.” And there goes his brief moment of relaxation. Gone within seconds.

Of course he’d be the one to pair with him. There had been an odd amount of people who had signed up for the trip to the Mondstadt Theatre, well known judges and critics there to give them feedback and training before their big show by the end of the week. He just so happened to get the short end of the stick and be the only person with their own room. It was nice for the five minutes it lasted.

It was rather rude the way Professor Zhongli had pushed him into the hotel room — his eyebrows stuck in a permanent state of irritation with each twitch as he tried to keep a friendly smile. Childe had stumbled in, eyes wide and glued to the guitar case, stickers and writing covering the case. They looked like…children drawings? Perplexed, Diluc saw it fit to ignore the matter for now.

“Hey…uhm,” a subtle hint of pink dusted along the other’s cheeks, stretching to his ears, “You’re that violin player right? With the solo this week?”

“Yeah, what about it?” His voice was heavy and almost intimidating…if it wasn’t for his beauty.

“I just thought…well, I…you’re just really cool.” He stuttered, his voice soft as he scratched at his bird’s nest of hair. It was rather endearing the way he was so…so shy around him. Typically he’d see him causing some form of ruckus at the college, in the middle of class. Always having crazy ideas to try different notes here and there, different instruments in one piece and another singer in this piece. Yet, when it came to Diluc’s performances and practices, he’d be silent. Dead silent, eyes wide in a childish wonder and fascination that always confused Diluc. It confused him to a point he’d try to ignore it but no matter how hard he tried, he’d always be there, eyes sparkling in amazement in the corner of his eye.

“Thank you.” It was blunt, quick and straight to the point. He wasn’t in the mood to dwell on such pitiful small talk. It annoyed him, wasted his time…not that he had anything to do to begin with. To be honest, for some reason, the other had annoyed him. Annoyed him so much so he found himself rolling his eyes subconsciously.

“…There’s only one bed.” Horrified, Diluc’s head turned to look at the full sized bed that once promised peaceful nights, now mock him. It mocked him as the faint sounds of car horns blared in the background, drowned out by his anxiety that prickled and pinched at his skin, “I can sleep on the floor.” His kindness was a harsh stab to his gut. Of course he had to be this nice to him after he berates him in the deepest corners of his mind.

“It’ll be alright, we’ll just put a pillow in between us.” Him and his stupid puppy dog eyes guilt tripping him and making him feel bad. Fuck him for being cute. Diluc’s cheeks flushed a deep red at the sudden thought. Surely not. No. Absolutely not. There was no way he found Childe cute.

He found Childe cute.

Earlier that afternoon he had bought them food, insisting on buying the most expensive food he could find, and coming back with enough food to hold them over until dinner. He’d gone off to explore, giving Diluc the option to go with…and when he returned, he came in with bags in multiple sizes, an elated grin plastered on his face.

“This is for you!” He handed him a bag and inside it was a numerous amount of keychains — animals all in the color red and a little rose keychain inside, “I didn’t know what to get you.” There were a lot of red items, a dog, cat, pheonix, a slime, you name it, it was probably buried in the vast amounts of knick knack items. He remembered trying to give them back, desperately trying to get him to take them back…yet he insisted he keep them. So he had, attaching the phoenix keychain to his violin case.

When night came he was more than anxious. His heart would thump in his chest, his mind busy with far too many what ifs and possibilities for sleep to come easy. Surely he knew he detested him. Why else would he go off and spend his money on such intricacies? It didn’t make any sense. He was sure he disliked him. Of course, his…assumption was quickly disproven.

With fiery cheeks and wide scarlet eyes, he caught glimpse of Ajax — black sweats with droplets of water streaming against every dip and crevice of his upper body. He could hear a faint wince, the sound muffled by the towel he used to dry his hair. The pull and twitch of every muscle didn’t aid Diluc in stilling his heart and gathering his breath.

“Sorry about that,” he laughed, his voice light and airy as he headed to his shirt, discarded and almost forgotten on the floor, “Dropped it on my way over,” Slipping it on, it was rather baggy, the sleeves coming down to his elbows as he yawned.

“Right, I’ll…” he paused, cerulean blue eyes gazing down at him, “I’m gonna go down to the lobby to see if they sell tea…you can head to bed if you’d like.” He smiled softly, his kindhearted demeanor — far calmer than his normal chaotic self — was rather off putting. It made Diluc’s spine shiver with anxiety and his skin rise with goosebumps. He watched as he headed out the door and for a brief moment, he wasn’t sure what to do with his freedom.

Deciding to wear a faded, gray sweater and black shorts, he turned off most of the lights, leaving on the desk light for when Ajax had returned. Undoing his hair tie, he crawled beneath the sheets, letting his weight sink into the soft mattress. He wasn’t sure how long he was alone in the hotel room, but he heard the soft click of the door opening, the lights twinkling and distant sound of cars driving below not doing much to overpower the quiet noise to ease his worry.

He could hear every step he took — they were hesitant and quiet, almost scared to move in fear of waking him up. Truthfully, Ajax had never been more terrified. Part of him wanted to check and make sure he was asleep, but he knew if he had, he wouldn’t be able to look away. Diluc Ragnvindr was beautiful. Far beautiful than anyone he’s ever laid eyes on…so to even be allowed to sleep beside him doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel like he should. So his best bet?

His acoustic guitar. It would be loud, without a doubt, but he’d play it out on the balcony and keep the door shut. It wouldn’t do much but it would be enough. So, undoing the clasps of his case, his fingers running over the pictures Teucer, Anthon and Tonia drew for him, he gently picked up his acoustic from it’s case as he slipped outside.

Sitting outside, he let himself be soothed by the gentle breeze, the pads of his fingers coming to rest flat against the strings before he strummed, checking each string to tune them before mindlessly playing. It didn’t take much, it was almost second nature. He could stare off and simply play, his calloused hands having a mind of their own.

There were numerous questions that poked and prodded at Diluc’s mind, all of which he chose to ignore in favor of listening to him play. The sound was beautiful, he couldn’t help but get swept up within its current, letting it drag him into a sense of security he hadn’t felt in quiet sometime. Minus how rambunctious Ajax could be at times…he was rather relaxed.

Choosing to set that aside for now, he could smell the aroma of the tea, chamomile, as it’s scent filled the rather small space. Leaving the comforting, warm embrace of the bedsheets, he covered his hands in the sweater as he carried the scalding hot cup of tea out to him. The slide of the door was enough to grab his attention and he swore he could feel his heart almost jump out of his throat.

He was stunning. Too cute for him to handle in all honesty. His hair a fountain of red as his locks began to shine under the city lights. Part of him desperately wanted to run his fingers through his hair, braid it, brush even if he was just cradling his head, he’d be satisfied.

“Your tea will get cold.” His voice was quiet. Very quiet. Almost out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was because of how tired he was.

“I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, it takes me awhile to sleep. You didn’t wake me up.” His kindness felt out of place. Sudden. Ajax wasn’t sure what to make of it, he was so used to Diluc giving him the cold shoulder, it was different having him treat him like this.

“Let me sing for you?” It was abrupt as he gulped, his jaw clenched as he searched those scarlet eyes. From where he sat he couldn’t see a single sign of hatred or resentment.

“Sing for me?” Ajax nodded, as he gently set the guitar against the wall.

“I could help you sleep tonight. Only if you’re okay with that though.” Diluc knew why he accepted his offer, he just wasn’t ready to accept it yet. Ajax wasn’t a bad person…he was just…Ajax. There wasn’t much else he could say. Maybe he just needed to hang around with him for a little while longer and get to know him better. This seemed like a nice start though. For now.

Crawling back into the warm linens of the sheet, his hair pooled around him as the soft pillows sunk under his head. The taller male slid in beside him, practically melting into the warmth of the bed as the comforter covered them both.

“Any requests?” He smiled, the small pull in his lips reminding Diluc that yes, he was in fact sharing a rather small bed with Ajax.

“I don’t care, so long as they aren’t children lullabies,” he grumbled, fingers twisting in the bed sheets as his eyes fluttered shut from time to time. Turning on his side more, Childe studied him, thinking briefly before lying on his back. It was just to help him sleep, he wouldn’t get onto him about form would he? All well, guess he’ll found out in the morning.

“Fly me to the moon sound good to you?” He whispered as he turned his head. His breath catching in his throat. He was relaxed, his cheek resting against his palm as he hummed. The faint blue lights seemed to make his skin glow even more.

“Yeah…,” he whispered as his shoulders sank forward. So that’s what he did, he sang for him. His face burning bright enough to light up the room as tiny snores soon filled the room. He didn’t mean for his eyelids to get so heavy. For him to fall asleep next to him, the promise of a pillow to separate them quickly forgotten as they bathed in each other’s warmth.

“In other words…,” he mumbled as his heavy arm came down to wrap around his waist, “In…other words….”, he voice became a hushed whisper, eyes falling shut as the end of the song rang in his head.

I love you.

Waking in a panic to find himself cuddled beneath Ajax, he shoved him off the bed, a loud thud ringing through the room.

“Ow! Fucking shit—!” Curses and a mix of Russian spewed from his mouth as he held his head.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Diluc’s panic didn’t ease as he groaned, laying flat against the floor.

“Just…just give me a moment,” he sighed, laying flat against the floor.

“C’mon and sit on the bed, I’ll go get ice for your head.”

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

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