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reidrum · 10 days ago

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darwinism

A/N: being really brave and posting this bc i wasn’t sure about it but i hope u like it! a reminder to show love to ur favorite writers/creators :) scheduling this post while im omw to halsey’s opening show tonight BUT we hit 3k and that’s so insane to me that people want to read my silly little stories thank you thank you thank you

summary: the you that broke up with spencer to follow your dreams in london isn’t the same you that returns a year later

cw: spoiler content warning at the end of this post! angst, hurt/comfort, bau!reader, ex!spencer, implications of past trauma, descriptions of torture, medical jargon, cm typical violence, throwing up, spencer is kinda mean but he loves you i promise

wc: 6k

The familiarity strikes you like a knife as you walk through the doors of the BAU. Over a year since you’ve been here and it seems nothing has changed—Hotch still surveills from his office atop the landing, Emily and Derek sit opposite each other. Even your desk has remained untouched and the way you left it, still next to the desk you’d begged to be next to.

A year since you left it all behind in pursuit of furthering your career, a shiny new position across the pond at Interpol. A year since you left behind the only family you had in D.C., the BAU. A year since you left Spencer, the love of your life.

Before you left, Spencer thought everything was going great between you both. You seemed happy, content with his company and love. Falling in love with a colleague, especially in his line of work, has its risks but he’s found that having you will always outweigh any consequence or worst scenario his mind can think of.

Spencer would never tell you they actually offered the job to him first, but he turned it down so he could stay with you. He still remembers the fight you had the night before you left, how he couldn’t understand why you would risk throwing away what you had. You knew he never would, with his multiple degrees and high caliber of success he didn’t need that extra validation. To be a mere mortal in the presence of such excellence is humbling and harrowing.

So you left.

You love him, you really did—still do. Nothing about where you were in the world would ever change that. Making the decision to leave was the hardest but you knew it would be better for your career. Spencer might never comprehend how easily you made that decision to take the job in London when it seemed like the hardest thing for him. How could he, when everything he encountered with his Midas’ touch of knowledge only served to expand his beautiful brain. When you left and parted ways, it was for good.

The thing is though, you’re back.

No one actually knew you were coming back until a week ago, when Hotch announced your return to the team as soon as you landed. The job offer was a permanent one and the details are unclear as to why you did come back so early. Bunch of sealed, redacted documents. All Spencer knows is that you are home and back here with him. Maybe not with him, but you were here and that counts for something.

The desk next to yours is empty but clearly occupied, the satchel slouched over on the ground with a cardigan haphazardly thrown over the back of the chair. You walk up to yours and see it practically untouched, up kept even. You sling your bag off the shoulder and take inventory of your desk, your name plate and tchotchkes aligned.

You don’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you.

“Hey.”

You still at the voice and turn slowly, “Hi, Spencer.”

He takes a good look at you, the first one he’s gotten to have of you in over a year. You look the same more or less. Your hair is longer, you’ve lost weight, you stopped wearing makeup. There’s something else surrounding you unspoken, he can’t place his finger on it.

“It’s um, it’s good to see you.” he nods awkwardly, trying not to cringe inwardly as he attempts normality.

“Likewise.” you hum.

Hotch calls your name from the landing, “Welcome back. I need everyone in the conference room in two minutes.”

You both nod, each secretly glad your interaction was cut short.

Derek rounds your desk and opens his arms, “Good to see you, pretty girl. It’s been too quiet without you.” You try not to let your heart squeeze over the term of endearment, a stem of his nickname for Spencer coined specially for you after Derek had figured you both out.

You squeeze him back, “Missed you too, Morgan.”

Emily loops her arm through yours as you pull back from Derek, slowly starting the walk up to the conference room. “How was London? Was the apartment okay?” Former Interpol agent perks, Emily had her own flat in London she so graciously lent to you.

“All good, Em,” you say softly, slowly trudging up the steps, “I’ll show you pictures later.”

Emily continues talking as you both get further out of earshot from Spencer, whose eyes follow until you disappear into the room. There really is something different about you that he can’t quite figure out yet, no way of even proving that something is wrong–just a sheer feeling of knowing you from the way you’ve imprinted on him. He decides it’s probably just jet lag.

“You alright, kid?” Derek nudges him, “Must be a lot for you,”

He forgot he was even still down here, “Yeah, fine. We should go,”

—

The first time Spencer noticed he didn’t think anything of it.

It’s paperwork week after a long few weeks of traveling, to everyone’s delight. In desperate need for caffeination you grab your mug from your desk and trudge to the break room to make yourself a coffee. You place a pod into the slot and press start, the machine whirring to life as it prepares to brew your lifesaving coffee.

You’re about to bend down to the cupboard under the table when you hear footsteps.

Spencer slows as he walks in, not wanting to startle you, “We moved the sugar by the way, it’s above the sink now.”

“Oh, thanks.” you mumble. You reach a hand up to open the cupboard, hiding a wince as you stretch up.

He clocks the change in your face immediately, “Are you okay?”

Your eyes widen as you come back down and school your face back to normal, “Yeah, why?”

“You look like you’re in pain. Did you get hurt or something?” he prods, eyes looking questionably between your face and your waist. Your shirt raises slightly and he can see the tail end of what looks like a nasty scar. He attempts to walk closer but with hypervigilance on your side and great timing by the coffee machine you grab your coffee and side step him towards the door.

“Oh did I? Must’ve stretched weird this morning.” you say from the door.

“You stretch now?” he humorlessly chuckles.

“It’s important to stay limber,” Your hand subconsciously rests over your abdomen, unnaturally to the side as if you’re covering something. “Got to go, bye.”

He watches you duck out of the room, “Um, bye?”

Weird, he thinks. You didn’t even end up taking the sugar, the evidence of it still scattered on the counter. You were so quick to leave but Spencer lets himself entertain the idea that you wanted to leave so fast not to get away from him, but because he noticed a crack in your facade.

He tries to school his own face back to normal as he returns to his desk and drops two sugar packets on yours.

–

The second time he notices, it nearly breaks his heart.

It’s a hot day in the Houston precinct where you and Spencer tackle the geographical profile while the rest of the team works out the victim’s details and witnesses. It was a no brainer to pair you two together, you’d been doing geographical profiles since way before you ever got together. It’s how you both fell in love, actually. Countless hours hunched over a map, late night conversations getting weirdly philosophical, something about the way you worked together just clicked. Like you completed something he didn’t know he didn’t have, something he didn’t know he craved so subconsciously.

You made sense to him, you always do.

Things are little different post your breakup, your skill sets are still above par for crafting the geographical profile, and therefore it only served to make sense to pair you both again. He knows it’s for the better, you’ll always make sense to him—even in times like this.

You’re more defensive than he remembers, more meticulous and stubborn than his darling girl who left him. You were always stubborn, but here you were finding faults in everything. The attack sites are too scattered for an accurate comfort zone, you’d argue. The victimology doesn’t add up, you’d jab.

Since you left Spencer’s patience has diminished dramatically, even for you now as he’s about to discover. Normally he’d welcome your counterpoints with respectful criticism and counters while you both talk it out. But right now you’re arguing like you simply want to be right, like you need to be right.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Spencer sighs, “The unsub clearly is frequenting these places for a reason, and it matches the victimology perfectly. How can you not see it?”

“It doesn’t add up!” you jab, “He’s kidnapping high risk victims in a high risk environment, that goes against what we think he’s even killing for.”

His voice raises, “What he’s killing for doesn’t even matter if we can’t predict where he’s going to strike next! The next body could surface tonight, we don’t have time to be childish like this.”

“Childish? Suddenly my analysis is childish? Fuck you, Spencer.”

“Okay, look I didn’t mean—“ He reaches his hand above your figure to grab the marker atop the white board.

A normal motion for him.

But you flinch, hard.

Spencer rarely if ever yelled at you when you were together, he certainly and definitively would never lay his hands on you. Any argument you had with him was resolved civilly, safely. Even when you get disciplined at work by Hotch or Strauss they go easy on you, a stern warning and a passing Be Better.

What you did now is stitched from his nightmares. The sharp yelp you let out will ring in his ears for who knows how long. He can’t figure it out, he’s not sure if he wants to. You’re part of a team of profilers, trained to analyze micro expressions and behaviors to predict what happened. Spencer knows what it means for the way you reacted, his training clearly outlines it.

Previous trauma suffered. Reflex response. Learned.

Wherever you learned that response, it cannot be from him—it’s impossible. It’s offensive. It makes him sick to even think it could come from him, even sicker to think about where it did come from. This wasn’t you, not the you that Spencer knew and loved.

Yet you flinched, and to his horror you’re now shaking.

He says your name like broken glass, “I…I wasn’t going to hurt you. You’re shaking, I…” He tries to move closer again, like he did in the break room, and instead of ducking out you back up and bump into the whiteboard, startling yourself further.

“N—Nothing, I’m fine. It’s fine. I…need to go get some air.” you stutter, the jitters clearly consuming you.

You run out of the precinct before he can say anything else, evading Emily’s calls and JJ’s brush of your arm as you leave.

Spencer lingers on the ghost of your figure as it haunts the door, and turns to the rest of the team sporting matching confusion. “You all saw that right?”

Morgan nods slowly, “Something’s up with her.”

“I know,” he rasps, “I’ve never seen her look so scared.” The look on your face will surely haunt him every time he blinks.

JJ speaks, “Do you think something happened in London?”

It had to, Spencer thinks. You were not like this before you left. Not skittish, not hypervigilant of your surroundings—fearing a familiar hand.

The team looks to Hotch, knowing if someone knew it would be him. “Her records are sealed,” he mumbles, feigning professionalism yet unable to hide his concern for you, “Interpol informed me it was a need to know basis, and we were not cleared for that.”

“But she’s not okay, Hotch.” Spencer protests.

Hotch gives him a stern look, but his eyes soften in understanding, “I know, we can figure this out when we get back. For now, let her cool off and let’s focus on the case.”

Everyone exchanges uneasy looks and begrudgingly returns to their tasks.

When you return the team offers you the grace of pretending what happened didn’t even exist. You’re inwardly grateful, you know it doesn’t show on the outside. Spencer keeps an eye on you but maintains his distance lest you get triggered at his hands again. He wouldn’t survive watching you react to him so viscerally, in a way that couldn’t be further from the love he showered you in.

It’s in this moment Spencer realizes he misses you. When you left he obviously missed you, but in a way in which he knew you would return home eventually. You broke his heart by leaving, but he knew you would come back to the BAU, where you belonged. A you he honestly believes he took for granted, because it looks like that you didn’t make it home to him. Right now, he’s missing that you. The you before London.

—

The third time he realizes, he acts on his own–you didn’t even have to do anything.

He knows something happened in London. He just can’t figure out what it is, but he’s going to.

Spencer should feel bad asking Penelope to hack into your medical records. He can’t find himself to actually care though after seeing that stab wound on your hip, and how quick you were to brush it off like it was nothing. It was massive, and by the position of it had to have required some medical intervention. When he got shot in the knee all they needed to do was stabilize his leg from the outside with a brace, yours looked dangerously close to a lung.

“Is there a reason we’re violating her privacy like this? She’s my friend, I feel icky.”

“Garcia, please.” his tone holding something deeper.

She glances at him and returns back to typing, breaking down the many firewalls of the bureau medical records.

“And…done.” a flurry of documents floods her screens, Spencer leans in closer to read them but she whispers under her breath, “Oh my god, my sweet girl.”

“What is it?”

Garcia pulls up your medical record from London, and makes the sheet bigger. The glaring title reading Emergency Room Admit. He reads the preliminary injuries of stab wounds, bruises, mild concussion.

Emergency services were called to a warehouse where you were unconscious and bleeding out. You still weren’t conscious when you were admitted, and they had to resuscitate you after you’d coded in the ambulance en route. They took you to emergency surgery, your broken ribs causing major arterial damage in your abdomen. Line after line listed another injury, another note where they performed a life saving measure on you. He couldn’t believe it, how had all of this happened and no one knew about it? How he didn’t know about it?

“She was attacked.” he mumbles in disbelief, poison hanging on the tip of his words.

Penelope says through watery tears, “How could they not tell us? This says it was nearly nine months ago.”

“I don’t know,” he breathes out shakily, “but something still feels off.”

Everything he was thinking and felt becomes obsolete as he scrolls further down to see a note that takes the final blow for him.

Miscarriage due to sustained injuries. Pt suffered stab wounds to the lower left quadrant of the abdomen, fetus not viable upon admission.

No.

No, that can’t be right.

The nausea builds in the back of his throat as he processes. He looks at the dates of the report again and anxiously does the math in his head. If your assault happened only three months after you left then—No.

All the questions begin to swirl in Spencer’s mind. Did you know you were pregnant? You didn’t tell anyone it seems, and then you chose to still stay in london for another nine months even after the incident. It made no sense, an event as traumatic as what he read you went through should have sent you right back home. Right back to him.

The nausea catches up to him and takes over his body, hurling into the nearest trash can he can find. Penelope, through sniffled sobs, attempts to rub her friend’s back as soothingly as she can.

He wipes his mouth, “I need to talk to her. Is she still at the same address?”

“Spencer, I don’t think—“

“I don’t care what you think, Garcia. Tell me where she is.” he snaps.

Penelope widens her eyes in shock at his outburst, knowing she can’t blame him for how he’s reacting. “Y—Yeah, same address.”

He speeds out of the room, stopping by the bathroom to rinse his mouth and splash water on his face. His hands rub harshly down the sides of his face as he stares at himself in the mirror. All the color is drained from his face, nowhere in sight of returning. He doesn’t know what to feel–let alone what to think. He’s angry, hurt, confused. He’s not expecting to feel scared, yet he’s not sure what he’s scared of.

In Spencer’s life his role has always been the protector, the parentified child that had to grow up too fast to care for their sick mother. He wouldn’t have it any other way, some help would have been nice, but his 187 IQ served him better than others would in his position. Perfection, as his mother fondly called him. All he’s ever known is to protect, joining the FBI helps him continue to actualize this ability he’s honed. Meeting you gave him purpose to protect–a conscious choice he could make that wasn’t a result of his circumstance. A choice to protect you, because he loves you.

Yet his choice to let you go, to not follow you, has led him to face this awful consequence at the cost of your safety. Right now, he feels like anything but a protector.

Spencer gets in his car and drives to your apartment complex, parking in the same vacant spot he always did when he came over each time. He climbs the stairs fast and knocks harshly on your door, hearing you shuffle a minute later and opening it. “Spencer? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” he says urgently, moving past you to get inside.

You furrow your brows at his intrusion and mumble, moving aside passively, “No please, come in.”

You lock the door and walk towards your living room, where Spencer is pacing back and forth running his hand stressfully through his hair. He makes no effort to speak first, still in his head about everything.

“So, are you going to tell me why you showed up here?”

“I know what happened.”

You tilt your head, “What do you mean?”

“In London. I know what happened to you.”

Your face drops instantly and suddenly the world stops. All your windows are closed but a sharp and brisk chill runs up your spine, goosebumps erupting all over you as a pathetic defense against what feels like a vocal attack. Trapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say under your breath.

He stops pacing and faces you, “No?” he steps closer, “That’s why all your medical records are sealed shut?”

“You looked at my medical records?”

“I had to, you weren’t telling me anything.”

“Maybe because I didn’t want you to know.” you yell, “Those are private documents.”

“I don’t know how I didn’t notice it at first—you were in pain reaching for the sugar in the cupboard, suddenly you don’t wear anything shorter than pants and a long sleeve. The big scar on your torso.”

“That doesn’t mean anything—“

“You flinched. The other day.”

You falter, “What?”

“We all pretended it didn’t happen when you came back, but you know what happened. I raised my hand for something and you flinched.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you repeat less convincing this time.

He steps closer, trying to hide his hurt when you take a step back as well, “I think you know exactly what it means, and it scares you that I know now too.”

“You’re not supposed to know.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one’s supposed to know! I had them sealed for a reason.”

“So you were just not going to tell any of us you were attacked?”

Your face contorts, “I had to do what was safe for me. You may not understand my choices but I was counseled into believing this was the best option for me.”

“Counseled,” he laughs humorlessly, stepping towards you and staring you down, “Did this counsel inform you that notifying the father of your miscarriage wasn’t necessary?”

The bile rises in your throat, the room unhinges upon its axis as it begins to spin. “N—No, that’s not—“

“Did you tell anyone?” another step, “Were you ever going to tell me it was mine?”

“Spencer you don’t understand.”

He flails his arms in anger, “No, I fucking don’t! First you leave me behind like I meant nothing to you, but then you were pregnant with my child. You didn’t even care to tell me! I wanted a life with you, I loved you. And you just left.”

You stare at him in silence, unable to think of anything to say.

“How could you not tell me?” he whispers brokenly, “I thought you trusted me.”

“I couldn’t tell you, you have to know that.”

“You couldn’t or you wouldn’t?” he pricks.

The tears well up in your eyes, “That’s not fair.”

“No? You don’t think so?” He knows he’s being mean, he can’t help it—he was supposed to protect you, even if you wouldn’t let him. His guilt is rearing its head in an ugly manner. “Was the baby even mine? Or is there something else you’re also not telling me?”

The hurt splays on your face clear as day, “Why are you being like this?” you mumble.

“I just want answers,” he exasperates, carding a stressed hand through his hair, “I want to know why you felt like you couldn’t tell me, or any of us, that you almost died nine months ago and kept living in London until now.”

Your mouth is entirely dried up, your eyes burning deeply. How long you’d been running and carrying this weight alone on your shoulders starts to reveal itself when your exhaustion finally catches up to you, begging you to wave the white flag and surrender.

You take a deep and shaky breath, “My records were sealed because it was an Interpol agent that attacked me.”

Spencer is stunned into silence. Interpol agent?

Someone turned on the bureau—turned on you, and decided you would be the scapegoat for the brass’ wrongdoings. Someone you trusted laid their hands on you, and caused you such irreparable damage you felt compelled to carry it alone if the agencies had anything to do with it.

He’s nearly shaking with anger, “We need to report it.”

“I can’t.”

“He hurt you!”, he looks at you with disbelief, “We have to make sure they’re held responsible for it.”

“Spencer,”

“I don’t know why you’re so against it, you should know how important it is to make sure people like him don’t get away with this—“

“Spencer,” you plead.

He stops, finally meeting your eyes and faltering when he sees the tears welling and red rims forming. He takes a sharp breath, “You did report it…didn’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face drops, “I did, yeah.”

Spencer couldn’t believe it. Actually he could, he knows very well the statistics of women getting justice for assault crimes against them and how the odds are rarely stacked in their favor. Still, he feels appalled to think that the same system that he works to uphold—the same one you work for—has failed you so terribly.

If you reported it, then that means you knew your attacker.

“They didn’t know Mark was working both sides until he took me.” you whisper shakily.

Mark, the one who’d been your mentor when you were offered the job. Spencer remembers conversing with him when he was still in talks for the job too,

Spencer knows it should’ve been him instead of you. If he had just taken the job, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If he didn’t love you as much as he did to not leave you, maybe you’d be here—safe—while he worried about you from over there. The light that guides him home every night would still be shining in your eyes, and he wouldn’t be stranded in the middle of the dark ocean wondering what you would look like with the swell of his child.

How you looked, with the swell of his child.

At first Spencer is angry—at himself, at you, at the bureau for letting this happen. Then he’s just sad, over what could’ve been, what might be. Spencer would always joke that your stubbornness would lead to your downfall if he couldn’t help it. But you shut him out entirely, left him in the dark wondering if you even still loved him. Repetitively thinking about how easy it was for you to leave him alone back in Quantico. You were always too independent for your own good. It’s then another cold guttural realization stuns him—you were all alone when this happened.

“Oh, angel.” his voice cracks.

At this point, you’re just trying hard to keep it together. You weren’t expecting to have to reopen this wound again, although you should be considered a fool for thinking you could hide it from the very person you sealed it up for. You’re stubborn to a fault, constantly desperate for complete and total control over your life. Paining yourself is a valiant effort you invoke to protect others from the torturous reality you’ve spun for yourself. It seemed like the best option.

After all, a self inflicted wound is enough control for you–if you’ve already hurt yourself another cut can’t cause worse damage. Most people would show mercy at some point, not willing to cross the lines of depravity to wound you so badly.

But you? Crossing the line leads you right back to yourself, a circle even. Boundless to the restraints of humanity and unfiltered to the consequences of shame and guilt.

It’s why not telling Spencer was doable. Keeping it from him hurt you more than anyone could ever begin to comprehend.

If nothing in this world can be created or destroyed then the pain you feel must be arbitrary, a remanifestation of your own being returning back to where it came from. Angry to be disturbed in the first place, entitled to return home.

Everything will always go back to the way it was.

Even Spencer.

Even you.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” you sniffle, sitting down on the couch “I really wanted to.”

“So why didn’t you?”

You whisper, “I was so embarrassed.”

He dares to step closer, “Why embarrassed?”

“I—I know they offered you the position before me,” his eyes widen as you continue, “I was so mad at you at first because you didn’t tell me, and then I realized why you didn’t take it and I felt so shitty about it. But I needed it, you know? It was supposed to be good for my career! I don’t have fancy degrees and publications and the reputation you have. You know how hard I’ve worked to get to this point? But I kept feeling like I couldn’t measure up, wouldn’t measure up no matter how hard I tried.”

“Measure up to what, baby?”

“You!” you wail, “I wanted to prove that I could do it, on my own.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me or anyone. You never did, you know that.” he says tearfully, finally taking a spot next to you.

You sniffle, “Well, I didn’t think I could. I felt so out of my element when I got there, Spence. But then Mark started watching me, helping me out where he could. He told me he saw potential in me, and made himself my mentor while I was there.”

His blood boils at the mention of Mark but lets you continue. “I…I trusted him. He said he wanted to help me, that he understood what it was like coming fresh from the States.”

“But then,” your face crumples, Spencer’s hands itch at his side to reach out for you, “I was walking to my car one night. I stayed late, because I was finishing a case study. Next thing I knew, there was a bag over my head and I couldn’t breathe.”

Spencer subconsciously inches closer, his hand ghosting the expanse of your body. “Then what happened?”

“When I woke up I was in a warehouse, they tied my hands to the chair I was sitting in. And I waited for someone to come in. Then I saw Mark.” you whisper.

His hand moves to bravely rests on yours, knowing you need all the courage you can get right now. “Was Mark the one who hurt you?”

You nod erratically, “He thought I knew something about the Silk Road, that trafficking network.”

Spencer remembers investigating the Silk Road affairs, they were slowly but surely getting every single person involved in it. You were a big help when you were here, able to pinpoint when and where these people might be hiding.

“I was telling him the truth, there wasn’t anything I knew about active Silk Road members,” you strain, “He didn’t believe me, and it wasn’t what he wanted from me anyway.”

His other hand rests on the couch ledge behind you, “What did he want, baby?”

You let out a soft whine, “I had a contact in London who knew the password to the Silk Road database. I met with him before my first day, and he told me.”

His fingers ghost your shoulder and you don’t move to his relief, letting his touch be more intentional. “But Mark knew you met him.”

You nod, “He knew I knew the password. That’s what he wanted. I—I wouldn’t give it to him, it was too dangerous to let him have it.” A sob breaks through your voice, “Everytime I said no, he’d hurt me.”

You gently pull your shirt up to reveal the scar he saw in the break room that day, but you pull it further up to reveal a few more scars and bruising that still hadn’t faded.

His breath catches like a fish on a hook. “Oh my god,” Each scar is meticulously placed, intentional. The scars have mostly healed, but the remnants of the marks are so expansive it physically pains him to think about what you suffered when they were inflicted. This wasn’t supposed to happen to you.

The guilt settles in him like a rock when he thinks about how strong you had to be to survive this. All alone in a new country with no one you could trust anymore. You’ve always been a different breed of strength, something he marveled at about you. But you’re still in the fight or flight mode of standing strong in your surroundings. A prey who knows the predator routine all too well, knowing the second you falter is when they strike.

He tucks your head into the crevice of his neck—you don’t need to be strong anymore, he’s here now.

“It looks worse than it feels, I swear.” you tug your shirt back down, “I really didn’t know I was pregnant until I woke up in the hospital, Spencer. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey no,” he shushes, closing the distance between you to gather you in his arms, “don’t even think about that okay, I’m not mad.”

“I should’ve told you.” you cry.

“I know why you didn’t, it’s okay. You were just trying to protect yourself.” Spencer hushes, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” you lament, “I shut you out.”

His hand gently runs up and down your spine, “I’m not mad at you, angel.”

“You should be.”

Another question burns his tongue, “Why didn’t you come home?”

“I wanted to, but…when I tried to report it they acted like they already knew. And I told them what happened to me, what he did, and all they said was that they’d look into it. I saw him at work the next day. I transferred to a different building the day after.” you recount, “I think there’s more Interpol agents working both sides, Spencer.”

“Does Mark still work there?”

“Yeah, I think so…What are you doing?”

He grabs his phone and opens his message thread with Penelope, drafting a text about calling the team and booking flights, “I’m telling Garcia to find flights to London.”

Your eyes widen, “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m going to kill him.”

“Spencer,” you chide.

“And once the rest of the team finds out what happened I’m sure they’ll be on board with it too.”

“Please don’t do anything. I don’t want to cause any more trouble. It was nearly a year ago now, it’s okay. ” you mutter.

He pauses typing and sets his phone back down, scooching back to you and holding your face to his, unable to break eye contact with him, “No it’s not,” he says sternly, “what happened to you was not okay. Do you understand?”

“But–”

“No. You can’t do that. You won’t. This isn’t some sort of inconvenience we move past. You were taken advantage of, and someone hurt you. You did not deserve that at all.”

You pause and look at him, the tears spilling over down your cheeks. You’d spent the last year in solitude convincing yourself that it was all your fault. Your ambition was too strong, you were too eager, you should’ve been tougher. You lived a truth in which you were the problem. Spencer wasn’t there to remind you otherwise, but he’s ready to spend forever making up for lost time. “I…I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes soften and his thumbs move under your eyes, swiping gently, “No, you didn’t.” A few more quiet sobs leave you, “So why did it happen to me?” you ask meekly.

“I don’t know, angel. I really don’t.” he smooths your hair back, “I’m going to make it better, though. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

You nod and hug him tighter, letting a few more tears fall and stain his shirt. “I should be the one to tell the team, I know they’re probably wondering too.”

“They were really worried about you.”

“I’m sorry for worryin—“

“Shh,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “No more sorrys, okay?”

“Okay.” you curl into him.

“For the record,” he hesitates before he speaks, “I’ll always worry about you. Even if we’re not together, in different universes, or whatever. I’ll always take care of you, and I’ll always love you.”

“I thought you hated me.” you whisper.

“Impossible.” he kisses another part of your face he can reach.

“I love you too, thank you.”

For being here. For saving me. For still loving me.

“He’s going to pay for this, I promise.” You open your mouth to protest and Spencer continues, “He will get what’s coming to him. We’re going to make sure of it.”

You nod softly and listen to his heartbeat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, baby.”

“You know I did die in the ambulance for a few seconds.” you whisper quietly.

He swallows, “I saw that in the report. I’m so sorry, sweet girl, that must have been so scary. I know what that feels like.”

“Did you…see anything, when you died?”

From when he almost succumbed to the hands of Tobias Hankel and his father. “I saw a light, it felt warm. Enveloping. Why, did you see something?”

“Yeah,” you tuck in closer to his chest, “I saw you.”

spoiler cw: pregnancy, miscarriage, reader is tortured, reader sustains injuries

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x bau!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid

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azulpitlane · 1 year ago

Text

vicious I ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader, a little of charles leclerc x reader�� summary: lando's fans always attack you yet he does nothing to defend you, inspired by vicious by sabrina carpenter notes: if youre the anon that requested this sorry it took so long lol! but you were so sweet ty masterlist, part two

yourusername

liked by maxfewtrell, charles_leclerc and 1,829,392 others

yourusername lil getaway

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user wait is she dating lando??

user there's been rumors of them dating for months but neither of them have confirmed user hopefully not lol

user i had no idea she went on this trip

user yeah cause lando never posts her or even likes her posts lmfaoaofda

user am i the only one that finds her annoying...

user nooo everyone else does lol shes always leeching off lando

yourbff ur perfect babe liked by yourusername

user pls dont let this be a hard launch🧎‍♀️lando get UP

user of course she has to post lando🤣she needs him for the likes

maxfewtrell spent more time on the ground than actually skiing

yourusername SHHHH it was my first time

user why are all these comments about lando?? im only looking at her😍

f1gossip

302,837 likes

f1gossip Y/n Y/l/n spotted in Bali celebrating New Years at Martin Garrix's show, possibly with Lando Norris. The two have sparked dating rumors for a few months now but no confirmation has been made from either of them.

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user we might have to start accepting that theyre dating☹️

user I REFUSE

user wait im new to the fandom, whys everyone hating on y/n i love her music...

user shes always posting lando for attention and he clearly has no interest in her, he doesnt even like her posts user plus his ex >>>>>>> y/n

user she doesnt deserve him, he needs someone lowkey and y/n is such an attention whore

user not surprised shes there, always leeching on him

user right like girl give him space, he aint yours

user im a y/n defender idgaf. everyone in these comments are just jealous liked by yourbff

user yikes... user defending someone who needs a man to stay relevant lol ok

user i miss luisinha😭

user im convinced theyre still dating and shes using lando for pr

y/n hey lan, i safely made it back to the hotel

lando 👍

y/n i still dont understand why you wanted me to leave early though, its not even midnight :(

lando y/n, we talked about this. there was lots of paparazzi there and if they saw us together on midnight they would think we're dating

y/n we ARE dating... why are you acting like we arent?

lando yk what i meant im just trying to protect you from the craziness that comes from dating me baby

y/n im already getting hate, hows hiding me any different?

lando lets just not do this tn. yk how much worse its gonna get it if we confirm anything listen i love you, isnt that enough?

y/n yeah, ily too

lando ill see you later tn❤️

lando baby where are you? come on it was a drunk mistake, yk i only love you it was just martins friend, you know her

y/n oh the girl you told me not to worry about?

lando it didnt mean anything why are you acting like this?

y/n because you fucking cheated. im leaving and im moving out of the apartment

lando please dont, im sorry baby i love you

y/n you say you love me but you can never prove it you hid me away for a whole year, was it so you could hook up with other girls?

lando of course not wth but since there's clearly no trust in this relationship maybe we should end it i wish you the best y/n read

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pietrapilao and 3,295,203 others

yourusername new year same me, wasnt ever the problem

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yourbff YES WIFEY liked by yourusername

user she unfollowed lando omg.

user WAR IS OVERRRR

pietrapilao out of sight out of mind🧘‍♀️ liked by yourusername

user is this about lando omg...

luisinhaoliveira99 😍😍 liked by yourusername

user ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??? user WHEN DID THEY MEET??? user I NEED THE TEA RNNNNNN

charles_leclerc 🖤

user OH?

user what is going on in these comments omg??

user shes finally realized lando will never date a girl like her

user hahaha fr she finally deleted all her posts with him user probably gonna go for piastri now🤣

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 3,294,234 others

yourusername took some time off music but dont worry, im back and ready to prove i dont need anybody to stay successful

vicious is out now💌

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user OH NOWWW LANDO LIKES HER POST

yourbff sooo back baby

user this has to be about lando...

user the lyrics are heartbreaking omg

user you all owe her a big apology for the way you treated her

charles_leclerc you look good in red this comment has been deleted

charles_leclerc love it! this comment has been deleted

charles_leclerc congrats on the new song!!

taylorswift 💌❤️

user yall better not start switching up!! if you were hating on her, stay away

user are we just going to ignore charles' deleted comments??

user bro was NERVOUS

user we dont know if this is about lando!! they were just friends

user you toxic lando fans need to stay away🙄 she was never seen with anyone else this past year so its clearly about him. hes not some saint you paint him out to be user exactly!! you guys are acting like you know him

user her shirt saying loyal🫣thats gotta be a diss

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, martingarrix and 630,402 others

landonorris pretty vicious life im living rn

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user the caption??? the hard launch??? oh thats not-

maxfewtrell bro. no.

user his own best friend doesnt approve of his behavior😬

user this winter break drama is something else

user lando i cant keep defending you. why would you caption it this.

user IS THAT NEW YEARS KISS GIRL ON THE THIRD SLIDE???

user yess i found her @ shes martin garrix's friend and she was at that party

user anyone else notice luisa unfollowed him??

user she chose her side HAAHAH user pretty ironic cause so many fans were comparing y/n to her and now theyre friends🤣

user whys everyone mad?? its his private life why do you guys care

user oh so now you guys are giving him privacy?? but when he was rumored to be with y/n you were hating...the hypocrisy

yourbff alexa play obsessed by mariah carey🥱

user OOP user the girls are fightingggg

user not even a y/n fan but this was a bit unnecessary...

user "you dont feel remorse, you dont feel the effects" 🫠

f1gossip

240,520 likes

f1gossip Despite hard launching their relationship just one week ago, Lando's new girlfriend has been spotted getting cozy with a different guy! The leaked pictures have already caused for her to go private on all social medias😬

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user karma is A GOD

user i know y/n is having a good day today

user omfg poor lando :(

user womp womp

user i bet he is regretting his decisions rn😭

user y/n nation won today, ln4 nation taking L after L

user we cant catch a break😩

user WHAT IS GOING ON WITH LANDO RN

user craziest winter break yet jeez

Instagram Messages

charles_leclerc hey y/n! i know we havent spoken much but ive seen how lando treated you the few times you were at races and i apologize for never speaking on it i just wanted to tell you you're a great person and your music is so amazing if you ever need anything please just shoot me a text!

landonorris y/n you blocked my number? im sorry about everything baby can we please just talk?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell and 4,204,214 others

yourusername im soooo sorry for your loss😊

my new single feather is out now!! special thanks to @charles_leclerc for helping me out in the music video, had so much making it <3

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user this mv was so hot omg

user I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS BUT I LOVE

user i know a certain someone is FUMING

luisinhaoliveira99 on repeat already!!

yourusername 💋💋 user im convinced luisa reached out after she saw all the comparisons with her and y/n and they became besties user wait that makes so much sense

user f1 twitter is going insane rn

user Y/N NATION KEEPS WINNING

pietra.pilao AHH youre so talented bby liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc had the best time on set with you❤️

yourusername ❤️ user i ship it........

user i want them both

user ofc now shes going for another driver🙄

user oh you guys are OBSESSED with her, get a job user y/n still has them mad LOL

user l**** would never agree to anything like this

user im literally never getting over this, ive watched it 5 times in a row already

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and 940,240 others

landonorris a toast to my real friends

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user if this is a charles sneak diss i will cry

user we got carlando content....but at what price

user oh he definitely got blocked by y/n😭

user dw we're on your side lando

user who is we?

user just take the L and move on bro

user the way 2 songs got everyone to switch up on lando HAHA

user not just that but his shady posts too

charles_leclerc posted a story

Replies

user the girls are OFFICIALLY fighting oh gosh

user next season is going to be interesting...

user my roman empire

user IS THIS A HARD LAUNCH???

user what is happening.

user PARENTS

#lando norris #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader

3K notes · View notes

alohajix · 2 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐚𝐩𝐞

Description: she said she wasn’t nervous. She said she'd never done this before. But then he walked in—and made her forget every lie she told herself. The Casting Tape — you only need to watch it once to come back for more.

Warnings: this one-shot includes explicit sexual content, including fingering, oral sex (M/F), face-fucking, rough grinding, dirty talk, praise kink, light choking, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), and graphic language. Readers +18.

Words count: ~ 7K.

I understand you guys really enjoyed “First Time for Everything”. So here’s a new one-shot I've been working on for a while, featuring pornstar!harry once again.

please enjoyyy💕

*****

I almost didn’t walk through the door. It looked too normal from the outside—just a nondescript black building sandwiched between a vape shop and a custom auto wrap place. No sign. No logo. Just a metal door and a tiny keypad. I stood there for a full minute, staring at my reflection in the door’s narrow glass panel, wondering what the hell I was doing. My fingers fidgeted with the zipper on my hoodie as I debated bailing. But then I remembered rent. And how many hours I’d spent reading that post.

“Paid casting opportunity. Professional, safe, filmed. No pressure to continue. Just be yourself.”

So I buzzed in. A soft click, and I stepped inside. The air was cool, sterile, quiet. A short hallway led to a room that looked more like a YouTube set than anything porn-related—white walls, gray backdrop, soft box lights aimed at a plain black leather couch. A camera was already set up on a tripod, its little red light blinking lazily like it was waiting. There was no one else in the room, just a low table with a water bottle and a clipboard. I approached it like it might bite.

“Hey there,” a voice called from behind me—low, male, casual. “You can grab a seat. We’ll start in a second.”

I turned to find a guy with a headset leaning against the doorframe, sipping coffee. He looked more like someone who worked in tech support than adult film, and he barely glanced at me. That helped a little. I gave him a tight smile and sat down on the couch, tucking one leg under the other. The camera stared back at me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my denim skirt.

“You go by your real name or a stage name?” the voice asked.

I hesitated. “Stage name.”

He chuckled. “Smart. What should we call you?”

“…Lola.” I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t even know anyone named Lola.

“Cute,” he said. “Alright, Lola. We’re just gonna ask you a few questions. Keep your eyes on the camera, speak clearly, be yourself.”

I nodded once. The camera light turned solid red.

“Tell us how old you are and why you’re here.”

My voice came out a little too fast. “Twenty-two. I—uh—I heard about this through a friend of a friend. Thought it might be… interesting.”

“And have you done anything like this before?”

I forced a smile. “Not professionally.”

He chuckled again, friendly but disinterested. “Good answer. So—this is a soft casting. No pressure to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We just want to see how you come across on camera. If it feels natural, maybe we’ll try a short chemistry test.”

My stomach flipped. “Chemistry test?”

“With a partner,” he clarified. “Clothed or not. Touching or not. Totally up to you.”

I swallowed hard. “And who’s the partner?”

“Hey, man,” the guy said suddenly, glancing over my shoulder. “You mind stepping in for a quick test?”

I didn’t hear footsteps. I felt them. Slow. Heavy. Purposeful. And then I heard his voice.

“Yeah. I’ve got time.” I turned. And immediately forgot how to breathe.

He walked in wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tucked under a gray beanie, tattooed arms on full display. Calm. Comfortable. Like he belonged here. And when his eyes met mine—green, curious, knowing—I had to look away before I gave something away.

I knew who he was. Everyone who’s ever dipped into amateur porn knew who he was. He wasn’t just a pornstar—he was the pornstar. The one known for making people cry in the best way possible. The one who ruined girls for normal guys. The one I may or may not have watched the night I sent my application in.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice like silk. “I’m Harry.” Of course he was.

I tried to remember how to smile. “Hi.”

He looked me over—slowly, respectfully, but definitely. His gaze dragged from my hoodie to my bare thighs, then up to my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“You okay to keep going?” he asked. “Or just here to talk?” His tone was soft. Patient.

I bit my lip. I should’ve said no. I should’ve kept it simple. But the way he was looking at me… “Let’s try,” I said quietly.

His mouth curled into a half-smile. “We’ll go slow.”

He sat beside me on the couch, leaving just enough space between us that it felt intentional. His thigh brushed mine every time I shifted, and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose—but I hoped it was.

The camera was still rolling. “You nervous?” he asked, his voice low and almost amused.

“A little,” I admitted. “You’re not exactly a nobody.”

He smiled at that—soft, slow, like he was letting the compliment soak into his skin.

“Well, I’ve done a few of these,” he said, tilting his body slightly toward me. “So if you want to stop at any point, you say the word. We good on that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Safe word or something?”

“We can use red. If you want to pause, say yellow. But honestly? Just talk to me. I listen.”

God, that shouldn’t have made my stomach twist—but it did. His hand landed gently on my knee. Just a touch. Nothing dirty. But the weight of it made my heart skip.

“Can I touch you a little more?” he asked.

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

He slid his hand up my thigh, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around the bare skin just beneath the hem of my skirt. His pinky brushed the side of my underwear. He didn’t move further. He just… held me.

“See? You’re already shaking a little,” he said, voice soft like a secret.

“I’m not,” I lied.

His thumb moved lazily across my thigh. “You are. That’s okay, though. Nervous is normal. But you look good nervous.”

I smirked despite myself. “Is that your line?”

“No,” he said, leaning in just a little. “That’s the truth.”

His other hand reached up, fingers playing with the zipper of my hoodie. He didn’t pull it down right away—he just watched my face.

“Can I?”

I nodded again. “Yeah.”

He tugged the zipper down, slow as hell. I didn’t wear a bra on purpose—I’d told myself it was about being comfortable, but I’d also known what kind of job this was. I’d wanted to feel like I was ready for it, even if I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. He pushed the hoodie off my shoulders, revealing my thin tank top underneath—white, ribbed, tight. My nipples were already hard beneath the fabric.

His eyes dropped for half a second. “Fuck.”

“What?” I teased.

“You’re hot.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Didn’t expect that.”

I grinned. “You didn’t look me up before this?”

He leaned closer, lips near my ear. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Fuck. That got to me. I shifted in my seat, squeezing my thighs together, and his hand didn’t miss it.

“You get turned on easily, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Only when someone says shit like that.”

He chuckled, and it vibrated straight through me. “Alright then. Let’s see how much you can take before we even get your clothes off.”

He turned to face me fully, his hand now resting between my thighs, thumb pressing lightly at the crease where leg met hip. I was still covered, but it felt dangerously intimate.

“Look at me,” he said. I did.

His hand moved to my waist, sliding under the hem of my shirt. His palm was warm on my bare skin, fingertips grazing my ribcage, tracing just under the curve of my breast. His thumb brushed upward, catching the edge of my nipple through the fabric—and I gasped, barely holding still.

“Sensitive?” he asked, eyes still locked on mine. I nodded, biting my lip.

He pinched lightly—just enough to make me jerk—and then soothed the spot with his palm.

“You’re already breathing like you’ve been at this for an hour.”

“Maybe I just like the way you touch,” I whispered.

He grinned again. “Yeah?”

His other hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he leaned in. “I’m gonna kiss you now. Okay?”

I nodded. “Please.” And then he kissed me. Slow. Firm. One hand holding my jaw just right while the other teased under my shirt. His lips moved against mine like he had all the time in the world. He tasted like mint and something just a little bit sweet—god, it was unfair how good he was at this.

My mouth opened for him on instinct, tongue brushing his as he deepened the kiss. I whimpered before I meant to, and he smiled against my lips.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He pulled me onto his lap. I didn’t even realize I’d moved until I felt his thighs beneath mine, the stretch of my skirt riding up, the thick press of him already hard beneath me.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked, hand splayed on my lower back.

“Yes.”

“You wanna keep your clothes on for now?”

I nodded again. “Let me stay like this.”

He gave a slow, approving nod. “Smart girl.”

I started to grind—tentatively, testing—and he held me tighter.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands stayed on my waist, guiding me. My panties were soaked through already, and he hadn’t even touched me properly. His cock pressed up against my center through both layers, and the friction was delicious.

“Feel what you’re doing to me?” he whispered. I nodded. “Good. Don’t stop.” I didn’t.

I rocked against him slowly, rhythmically, trying to match the pace of his hands, trying not to let my moans get too loud. But the fabric was slick, and I was clenching around nothing, desperate for more. He leaned up to kiss me again, slower this time, while grinding back into me with little thrusts of his hips.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Using me to get yourself off. All clothed. So dirty, baby.”

God, baby—the way it rolled off his tongue nearly made me come.

“I wanna see you fall apart,” he said against my lips. “But not yet. Gotta take my time with you.”

I whimpered, hands clutching his shoulders. “Why?”

“‘Cause I want it to be unforgettable.”

I didn’t mean to drop to my knees. It just happened. One second, I was straddling him, moaning into his mouth, and the next, I was slipping down between his legs, hands trailing over his thighs like they belonged there. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t say a word—just leaned back on the couch and watched me with that slow-burning smirk, his chest rising and falling like he already knew what I was going to do next.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice husky.

I nodded as I settled between his thighs, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. “You’ve been hard since I got here.”

His brow ticked up. “And you think that means you get to do something about it?”

I looked up at him, tilted my head innocently. “I know I do.”

He grinned. “Cocky.”

“I learned from the best,” I said, tugging his sweats down just enough to free him. And fuck.

I’d seen it before—on screens, in videos—but nothing prepared me for the way it looked up close. Thick, long, already leaking at the tip. Veins along the shaft. His entire body was unfair, but this? This was just cruel.

I wrapped my hand around him slowly.

“You gonna stare at it all day, or you gonna do something?” he teased.

I licked a long stripe from the base to the tip, just to shut him up. His breath caught.

“Mouth open,” he murmured. I obeyed, letting my tongue hang out as I stroked him slowly. He was heavy in my hand, warm and twitching, and when I finally took him into my mouth, I moaned like it was for me, not him.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, his head tipping back. “You’re better than half the girls I’ve filmed with.”

I pulled back just enough to say, “That supposed to make me feel special?”

He looked down at me with a grin. “It should.” Then he shifted his hips forward a little, his hand slipping into my hair. “Hold still,” he said. “Let me fuck your mouth a little.”

I whimpered, nodding as he gathered my hair in his fist and guided me back down. His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, testing. He pushed past my lips and onto my tongue, letting me feel every inch. I hollowed my cheeks around him, drool already sliding down my chin. The angle made my throat ache—but I didn’t care. He watched every second.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Look at me. Eyes up. Fuck—just like that.” I moaned around him, and he groaned in return, gripping my hair tighter. “You like this?” he asked. “Being used a little?”

I blinked up at him, spit trailing from my lip to the base of his cock. “Yes.”

“How filthy are you, baby?”

I swallowed him deeper before answering. “Wanna choke on it.”

He smirked, that filthy edge sharpening in his eyes. “Greedy girl.”

He held my jaw and started to fuck into my mouth harder, sloppier. My mascara was running—I could feel it—and my knees were going numb, but I didn’t care. Not when he was groaning and panting above me, thumb wiping spit from the corner of my mouth.

“Open wider,” he growled. “Let me all the way in.”

I did. He pushed in until the tip hit the back of my throat, and I gagged—but he didn’t stop. He stayed there for a second, watching the tears spill down my cheeks before pulling back with a wet, obscene pop.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” I blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked, lips puffy and slick. “You want me to come in your mouth?” he asked.

“No.” He raised a brow. “I want more than that.” He stared at me for a beat. Then he reached down, grabbed my arm, and pulled me gently to my feet.

“Take your clothes off.”

I hesitated, chest heaving. “All of them?”

“All of them,” he said softly. “Want to see what kind of mess I’ve made.”

I peeled off my hoodie first, even though it had already been unzipped. My tank top followed, sticky with sweat. Then my skirt. Then my panties—soaked, clinging to my thighs. His eyes drank me in.

“You’re soaked.”

“You made me like this.”

He stood up—slow, deliberate—and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my neck, then lower, until he was kneeling in front of me.

“You ever squirt before?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed hard. “No.”

He smirked. “Might today.” Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue across my inner thigh.

He didn’t go for my pussy right away. Instead, he kissed every inch around it—my thighs, the crease of my hip, the patch of skin just above my mound. His hands wrapped around my legs, holding me steady as he took his time. The anticipation had my stomach fluttering, my cunt clenching around nothing, desperate to be touched.

“Please,” I whispered, shifting.

He looked up at me from between my legs, his lips shiny with spit. “Yeah?”

I nodded, breath shaky. “I—I need—”

He slid one finger up my slit, slow as hell. “You need this?” he asked, teasing my clit with the lightest touch. “Or my mouth?”

“Both.”

He grinned. “Good answer.” Then he dove in.

His mouth latched around my clit like he’d missed it, like he owned it. His tongue flicked and sucked, alternating between slow pressure and fast strokes that made my legs tremble. I cried out, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other tangled in his hair. He moaned against me when I tugged, and I felt it vibrate through my whole body.

“F-fuck,” I gasped. “Harry—”

“You taste so sweet,” he muttered between licks. “Could stay here all day.”

He pushed two fingers into me while his tongue kept working, curling them just right. My back arched off the couch, a moan ripping from my throat so loud I was sure the mic picked it up.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”

I was already on the edge, too fast, too intense—and he knew it.

“You close?” he asked, sliding his fingers faster, deeper, hitting every nerve ending I had.

I nodded, gasping. “Yes—yes—fuck, don’t stop—” He stopped. Pulled back. Fingers still inside me, but barely moving. I whimpered. “Why—”

“Cause I want you to come on my cock, not my tongue.”

“Fucking mean,” I whispered.

He smirked. “You like it.” I hated how right he was.

He stood and kicked off his sweats fully this time, leaving him completely naked—tall, lean, toned. Tattoos stretched across his chest, down his arms. His cock was heavy and thick, standing up proudly, still slick from my mouth. He grabbed a condom from the table behind him—but I stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Don’t,” I said softly. His eyes locked on mine.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m clean. On the pill. I want to feel all of you.”

His jaw clenched. “Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me.”

He climbed back onto the couch, pulling me into his lap again. This time, we were both naked. Skin against skin. He lined himself up with one hand, the other gripping my waist.

“Take it slow,” he murmured. I did. I sank down on him inch by inch, gasping at the stretch, the burn, the way he filled me up so deep I thought I might break.

He kept eye contact the whole time. “Look at you,” he said. “Taking it so well.”

I whimpered when I bottomed out, thighs shaking.

“So fucking tight,” he growled. “You weren’t made for this, were you?”

I moaned. “Maybe I was made for you.” That broke something in him.

His hands gripped my hips, and he started to move—slow thrusts upward that hit just right. I rocked against him, chasing friction, rolling my hips as he fucked up into me.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

“Harry.”

“Louder.”

“Harry.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good,” I gasped. “You’re so deep—fuck—it’s so good.” His hand came up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding.

“You’re gonna come like this?” he asked. “Like a needy little slut in my lap?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes—please, I need it—I need to come—”

“Then come.”

I shattered. The orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through me in pulses that left me crying out his name, clinging to him, hips still rocking even as I trembled. He held me through it, whispered praise into my ear.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “So fucking good for me.” But he wasn’t done. He flipped me over onto the couch, face-down, ass up. “Not finished with you yet,” he growled.

He slid back into me easily, grabbing my hips and fucking into me hard now—rough, deep, animalistic. My cheek pressed against the cushion, mouth open as he pounded into me.

“You want it rough?” he panted. “You want to feel how hard you made me?”

“Y-yes—fuck—yes—”

He slapped my ass, hard. “Say you love it.”

“I fucking love it.”

“Say who’s fucking you.”

“Harry—Harry’s fucking me—please don’t stop—”

He leaned over me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other holding my throat as he fucked me from behind. Skin slapping, breath ragged, everything filthy and perfect.

“Gonna come on you,” he groaned. “Wanna see you dripping.”

“Yes,” I begged. “Do it—please—come on me—”

He pulled out just in time, stroking himself fast before spilling hot all over my lower back and ass, groaning through gritted teeth. I lay there, trembling, dripping, wrecked. Breathing like I’d run a marathon.

He exhaled a long breath, letting it hang in the quiet between us. The only sound now was the soft hum of the camera still rolling. The red light blinked steadily, like it had witnessed every filthy, raw second of what just happened. Harry sat back, eyes scanning over me like he wasn’t sure if he was done yet—or just trying to memorize how I looked. Wrecked. Flushed. My hair a mess. My thighs still trembling.

“Stay there a sec,” he said, voice a little rougher than before.

I blinked up at him, cheek still pressed to the couch cushion, and nodded. He disappeared for a moment and came back with a warm towel. He didn’t rush—just knelt beside me, gently wiping me clean, taking his time like he actually cared. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just good at playing the part. But something about the way his fingers grazed my skin, soft and unhurried, made my chest ache.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, gaze flicking up to mine.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… that was a lot.”

A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “Good lot or bad lot?”

“Really good.”

He handed me the towel and stood up to grab water bottles. When he tossed one to me, I caught it with shaky hands.

“You looked like you’ve done that before,” he said, sitting down beside me again—close, but not touching.

“I haven’t,” I replied, twisting the cap off. “Not like that.”

He raised a brow. “You sure?”

I smiled. “Trust me. I’d remember if someone ever made me feel like that before.” He went quiet, watching me sip.

“You ever actually plan on watching the footage?” I looked at him. At the blinking red light still recording.

“I kind of want to,” I admitted.

He nodded slowly. “I’ll show you mine… if you come back and film another one.” I stared at him, half smiling, half stunned.

“You saying that to everyone who comes through here?”

“Nope.” He leaned in just slightly, voice lower. “Just the ones who moan my name like they mean it.”

I laughed, flushed, and shook my head. “You’re dangerous.”

He smirked. “Only on camera.” I didn’t believe that for a second. But I wanted to find out.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #pornstar!harry #masterlist

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anmwrites · 3 months ago

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Stubborn

Xaden Riorson x Reader

Hi friends! I was originally planning on posting one of my already written fics, but since this was requested I made it first priority! I hope I did the request justice (and didn't miss anything when I proofing it). Forewarning, I feel like I absolutely suck at ending stories, so I apologize if the ending is terrible >:( This was written as a FMC as well, but please change to whatever makes you feel comfortable when reading.

Warnings: Cursing, slight sexual innuendos (?), and faint mentions of childhood trauma.

Other Notes: Xaden being more fluffy, maybe, than usual; reader being moody and not really knowing why she's upset (I think I put some of myself into that oop); pretty rusty at this so I hope it doesn't suck lol.

I also want to go ahead and say that I take trigger warnings very seriously as someone who has struggled with mental health, so for future fics please let me know if I miss anything. This one felt a little lighter than some fics I've written in the past, but I don't want to hurt anyone in any way. Please always take caution even though I will list any warnings. Your mental health matters!

On that note, I hope everyone enjoys and finds a little escape with our favorite shadow wielder! (Disclaimer: I do not own any photos below)

To say the adjustment to training with and well, in general, to having fliers around was easy is a lie. A complete. Fucking. Lie. The only thing both riders and fliers had in common were the amount of fights they caused with one another. That was it.

Y/N tried. She really, really tried to make the best of a shitty situation, but she was almost at her breaking point. Especially with Xaden’s ex roaming the halls. She was one bad comment away from Sgaeyl biting her head off for snapping at him.

“He’s not into her anymore,” Violet said, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts as she stared, more like glared, at the short-haired bitch from across the dining hall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N snipped back. “Yes, you do. You are this close to starting a fight with her. Don’t be like Ridoc, you’re a lot more level headed than him,” she said, pinching her fingers together to show a miniscule amount of space. “Hey! It was one fight,” Ridoc exclaimed from across the table.

“One fight too many,” Violet mumbled rolling her eyes at their spastic friend. “I’m fine,” Y/N huffed. The entire squad gave her a knowing look. She rolled her eyes, “Whatever, I’ll see you losers in class.” Ridoc gave her a cheerful smile as she stood, everyone else grumbling their goodbyes.

A silk-like touch wrapped around her ankles as she made her way out of the dining hall. Y/N didn’t have to look to know Xaden sent his shadows trailing after her, a silent inquiry as to where she was going. She just shook her foot, not wanting to think nor speak to her boyfriend. As if Zihnal himself had a personal vendetta against her, though, a rough hand grabbed her arm.

Y/N turned to find Xaden staring down at her, a hint of concern written in those beautiful eyes. “Where are you going?” he asked. “Kill time before our next class,” Y/N shrugged, refusing to look at him. Truth be told, ever since she found out Cat was Xaden’s ex, she really tried to avoid him, a nasty feeling permanently making its home in her stomach.

“Well, I gathered as much,” Xaden rolled his eyes, releasing her arm. “I can come with,” he suggested, his tone much softer than what the entire riders quadrant would ever hear. “I’m fine, thanks,” she said flatly. Xaden made a face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” “You’ve been saying that for the past two weeks now. Yet I barely get to see you, and you’re avoiding me.” Y/N just shrugged, “I’m busy.” Xaden scoffed, a darker expression replacing his concerned features. “C’mon,” he said, grabbing at her waist before running his hand along the curve of her body. She felt her breath sweep out of her. “Don’t you miss this?” He leaned in, whispering in her ear. He planted a feather-light kiss on the shell of it, sending heat rushing through her body.

Y/N almost forgot why she was so mad. Until a nasally voice cut through the air. “Xaden!” she practically shrieked. Y/N cleared her throat, taking a step back out of his embrace. “I’ll see you later,” she mumbled before melting into the crowd. A furious expression graced Xaden’s face as he watched Y/N retreat before turning to face Cat. “What do you want?” he snapped. She sauntered over with a flirtatious smile. “Trouble in paradise?” she drawled. Xaden just crossed his arms. Cat flashed him a saccharine smile, “You know, I can always make you feel better. I do know how to make you feel better.” She smirked, and tried to reach her hand out to touch his face. Xaden shot a hand out, forcefully gripping her wrist. “You don’t get to fucking touch me anymore,” he snarled. Her swaggering facade fell slightly as she squirmed to try and get out of his grasp.

“Fine,” she snapped. He released her. “You’ll come crawling back to me once you get bored with that one.” Xaden glared at her. “I don’t do sloppy seconds,” he spit before turning on his heel and leaving her.

Maybe you should just talk to him, Nordys, Y/N’s black scorpion tail huffed as they lounged in one of the many fields within the nesting grounds around Aretia. That’s not happening. Nordys’ head swiveled in her direction, coming eye level to her. His green eyes narrowed into slits. You’re being childish. He is your mate.

One, ew he’s not my mate. He’s my boyfriend. And two, what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Xaden, I fucking hate your ex-girlfriend. She makes my life and my squadmates’ lives a living hell. Drags up very painful memories from my childhood. Can I please incinerate her?’ Nordys let out a chortle which was eerily similar to a laugh. Yes. Essentially that. He is the wingleader. And I would be happy to oblige by incinerating her and her mount. Y/N smiled softly at the thought, leaning against his side. At least someone understood.

Tairn just said he would turn a blind eye to it as well. Sgaeyl agreed too. We would have free reign to kill them all, Nordys continued. That’s a shock considering they won’t let Andarna do it.

Andarna is a petulant adolescent. She must learn patience and discipline. At least that’s what Tairn told me.

Y/N sighed. I just don’t know what I’d say to him. I’m not mad at him. He’s entitled to have ex’s. I would be shocked if he didn’t. It’s just…I really hate her.

You are ten times the human she is. You do not need to worry about your position as Xaden’s mate. Y/N groaned, Stop calling him that. Boyfriend, he is my boyfriend. We’ve talked about this. And I’m not worried about my position with Xaden. It’s just…well, I’ve told you before. My mother chased after rich men her entire life. They basically used her for her body and left her in the gutter.

I will call him as I see fit and you are not your mother. You are a rider, Nordys huffed, before laying his head down and closing his eyes. You need to go to class now, he said after a moment. Y/N groaned again. He was right. She was going to be late, and Professor Emetterio would have her head. Fine. Have fun doing whatever it is you do, Y/N grumbled, gathering her things. Nordys let out a hot breath in her face before launching himself into the sky leaving Y/N to trek to class.

Y/N’s moment of peace was ruined the moment she stepped into combat training. The fliers were gathered on one side of the mat while the riders stood on the opposite side. “I see immersion into our current living situations are going well,” Emetterio mumbled mostly to himself. Professor Devera just let out a quiet laugh from where she stood beside her colleague. Xaden was standing near the door, pointedly staring at Y/N while she was doing everything she could not to meet his hard gaze.

“Well, since everyone wants to fight everyone outside of this class, we will be pairing riders with fliers,” Emetterio’s voice boomed through the room. There was an audible groan from both sides.

“Good, now then!” He continued. Y/N zoned out as everyone began pairing off while he called names. Only when her name and her opponent was called did she really pay attention. Her blood ran cold as Cat stared back at her with a dark grin on her face.

“You’ve got this,” Violet whispered from her right. Rhiannon nodded in agreement from her left. “You’ve been trained by Xaden himself. You’re one of our strongest fighters,” Ridoc came up behind her, clapping her on the back. Y/N just gave them a look before stepping on the mat. “Begin,” Emetterio called.

Cat smirked and she began dancing around on her feet. “It’s about time we got paired together,” Cat commented. Y/N snorted, watching her closely. Timing was everything. Xaden taught her that. Study your opponent and assess their weak side if possible. Especially when you go to the mat during class. His voice rang clear in her head from all those late nights spent training.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Cat continued on, “Winner gets Xaden?” Y/N glared back at her, “He’s not some trophy.” She let out a sultry laugh, “You’re right. He isn’t. He’d be one for you, but not for me. You see, we’re royalty, him and I. So it’s just the perfect match.”

Y/N let out an inhumane snarl before lunging at her. To her utter shock, Cat maneuvered out of her way resulting in Y/N punching the air. She swung around and landed a sweep to Y/N’s legs, knocking her on her face. Fury rippled through her as she swung around trying to knock Cat off her feet with a swift kick, but to her surprise, yet again, Cat took the hit and rolled right back into her stance exactly…exactly like Xaden.

Her cackle was like nails on a chalkboard. Y/N pushed herself up quickly, going through the next steps just like Xaden showed her, but Cat didn’t miss a beat, moving just like how Xaden would when they trained.

Y/N froze for just a second, as she watched for the fifth time, as Cat moved just like him. Her moment cost her, and next thing she knew, a fist met her face. Y/N stumbled towards the edge of the mat where Violet and Ridoc caught her and kept her from falling over. “S-she was taught by Xaden. Every single one of his moves. She knows them,” Y/N panted. “It doesn’t matter. Focus,” Vi encouraged. While Y/N thought no one noticed, she was really wrong. Cat got under her skin. Everyone could see it.

“Finish it,” Ridoc snarled at her, his hard stare on Cat, who was still laughing. “Ready to tap out yet?” she goaded. Seeing red, Y/N shoved herself off of Violet and Ridoc. Faster than she had ever been, she lunged for Cat. Her fist met flesh with the satisfying crunch of Cat’s nose.

Cat snarled before whipping back up, slugging Y/N in the face again. “You bitch!” she hissed. Y/N laughed, the coppery tang of blood filling her mouth. “You broke my nose,” Cat snarled. “Sucks to suck,” Y/N smirked. “Argh!” Cat exploded, reaching in her belt and ripping out a dagger.

Y/N had moments to react. She went straight for the onyx hilted blade at her side, barely blocking Cat’s attack before she could leave a permanent scar across her face. She felt a faint sting on her cheek, but that was the least of her worries because Cat lunged at her again. Rage built within Y/N. She began striking back, dodging every one of her blows. She was fairly certain Cat was using her abilities on her to rile her up, but she didn’t care. Part of this anger was all Y/N’s.

She could barely hear Emetterio yelling at them to drop the weapons. Barely hear her squadmates and the fliers edging on the fight. It was turning sloppy. Both began ripping at each other’s hair, trying to cut one another. Until strong arms wrapped around her center, yanking Y/N off of Cat, who’s entire face was bloody.

“You won,” a soft voice caressed her ear. “Sweetheart, you won. You proved your point,” Xaden’s shadows wrapped lovingly around her struggling form. Y/N was still seeing red. Cat was shrieking profanities at her as her friends were trying to hold her back. “You fucking whore!” Cat screamed, “He’ll come crawling back after he gets sick of fucking your pathetic ass–” “Cat!” Xaden’s voice boomed.

Y/N snarled and went to lunge again, but Xaden whirled on her, body blocking her with his chest. “Darling, calm down,” he said. “Look at me!” Two hands gripped her face tightly and she felt the fight slowly slip away. Her eyes met his beautiful gold-flecked onyx eyes. “There you go. Calm down. It’s alright, you won,” he was breathing heavily. Nothing but pride filled his face.

The high wore off and she finally took a moment to breathe. Y/N glanced around and saw Violet and Rhiannon give her a grimace, but they looked happy nonetheless. Ridoc looked like he just had a blast, and everyone else began whispering excitedly as Emetterio dismissed them.

She looked back to Xaden who was still staring at her intently. “You were fantastic,” he breathed. “I’ve never seen you move that fast. Albeit it got sloppy there at the end, but still.” That ugly feeling resumed its place within her as the reality of what just happened sunk in. “She fought like you,” Y/N whispered. Xaden tensed. “She fucking fought like you because you trained her,” Y/N hissed, stepping out of his grip.

“Y/N,” Xaden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. She just shook her head and turned on her heel, storming out.

“Y/N wait!” his voice followed her out as she stormed through the halls. Y/N nearly made it to her room before Xaden caught her arm. “What is going on with you?” he asked, with an exasperated look. “You fucking trained her Xaden!” she shrieked. Emotion began pouring out of her. “It’s one thing that I have to pretend to be civil with your ex when all she does is spew shit out about how she’s royalty and that I’m just a side-piece! And now I find out you taught her how to fight?”

“So what if I taught her how to fight?” Xaden snarled, his temper flaring. He could not, for the love of Amari, figure out what the big deal was. “I-I, just don’t know,” Y/N muttered, exhaustion finally sweeping in. She could feel her cheeks dampen as tears rolled freely down her face. Embarrassment coursing through her. She didn’t even know when she started crying.

Xaden threw his hands up in the air, still clearly frustrated. “You don’t know? You don’t know? I have been trying to talk to you for two weeks now! How many times do I have to tell you that I am in love with you? So deeply in love with you!” he shouted. Y/N just stared at him.

“Are you mad at me? Jealous? What is wrong!” he asked. Y/N opened her mouth and then closed it. Was she mad at him? “No,” she exhaled, “I’m not mad at you. I, I just don’t know why I’m so upset. I mean there’s a very large possibility that Cat has been manipulating my emotions, but I’ve just had this horrible feeling sitting in my gut ever since I found out about your history with her,” she concluded. “You have nothing to be worried about,” Xaden sighed. “That feeling, my dear, is called jealousy.”

Y/N just shook her head. In all reality, she really didn’t want to talk about it with him. He knew what her past was, but just because he said it didn’t bother him didn’t mean it never bothered her.

She pushed open her door planning on slamming it in his face, but he caught it and followed her in. “Just talk to me. Please, baby, just talk to me,” he said quietly, resting his hand on her cheek and wiping a stray tear away. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s just…you were going to marry her. Marry her, Xaden. She’s practically a princess where she comes from. She was practically your first for everything. And she struts around here like she’s still going to be married to you, calling me a whore and all of the other names in the book. Constantly reminding me,” Y/N let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes, "reminding me of where I came from that I so desperately want to forget.”

Xaden studied her for a moment, his features visibly softening. “You aren’t your mother,” he said quietly. Y/N scoffed. “You really aren’t. You didn’t end up like her.” “What? Fawning over rich, powerful men who only cared when she spread her legs open for them?” Y/N mumbled.

“Is that how you think of us?” Xaden questioned. “No? Yes? I don’t know. It’s just with her here, it’s what it felt like,” Y/N whispered. Xaden let out a breath before wrapping her in his arms. “It’s not,” he murmured into her hair, “It’s more than that. I love you for you. For your light, intelligence, your stubbornness…absolutely everything. She may have been my first but you will be my last. My heart has always belonged to you and will always belong to you in this life and the next.”

Y/N felt a wave of calm and reassurance wash over her. She melted deeper into his embrace, breathing his all too familiar scent. “I love you too,” Y/N grumbled into his chest, “And I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner.” Xaden chuckled, pulling away slightly. “It’s fine my sweet girl,” he gave her one of his smiles only she was allowed to see.

“Now can I kiss you or are you going to bite my head off?” He smirked. Y/N rolled her eyes, gripping his face and pulling it down to hers. Xaden’s lips met hers in a fervor. The taste of him all consuming. Kissing Xaden was like a dream, but this? After two weeks of walking on eggshells? Well, Y/N was practically floating.

His tongue swiped her bottom lip, asking for permission. Y/N happily obliged, parting her lips to give him access. His hands roamed freely all over her body sending lightning cascading down her spine. She let out a soft groan as he deepened the kiss, both of them moving in tandem backwards towards the bed. Y/N hardly registered her legs bumping into it before she fell backwards. The soft duvet fluffed up around her as Xaden followed in suit until he was settled in between her legs. He leaned in bearing more of his weight down and –

“Oof,” she grunted, a zap of pain shooting up her back. Xaden froze, pushing up off her. “I’m fine,” she whined, staring up at him. “You took a nasty beating,” he commented, pushing fully up and off of her. Y/N just let out another pathetic whine, missing the feel of his lips and body on hers.

Xaden just chuckled and held out his hands. “Not until you’re cleaned up and feeling better,” he tutted. “Up.” Y/N rolled her eyes, but grabbed his hands. He did have a point. Her whole body had begun aching. “Fine,” she huffed. “But as soon as I’m all patched up, can we go back to kissing?” He let out a glorious laugh, “Yes, love. We can go back to kissing.”

____________

See, I told you my endings are always lame. I'm so sorry. Will also start building a Masterlist soon too.

#xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson imagine #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #iron flame #onyx storm #xaden x reader #xaden imagine #xaden imagines

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ateliersss · 7 months ago

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Downtime and a Bath

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: Your mate returns from a hunt, in desperate need of a bath. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 1.823 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ I'm not exactly happy with it, nor am I sure if it's even worth publishing, but anyways, here it is. I had an idea three hours ago and wrote the thing in two, therefore the poor quality. But hey, at least it's out of my head.

⇨ Also. thank you to each and everyone of you for letting me reach a 1.000 followers a few weeks ago!

It was nighttime.

Lounging on your nest, you tilted your head back and looked out of the window behind you. Upside down, the twin moons, twinkling stars, and other celestial bodies you couldn’t name were occupying the bottom of your view while the wildlife with its mountains and forests extended across the top of your eyesight.

You sighed at the inky-black sky. Mi’ytiar had told you hours ago his hunting trip would end today and you had hoped it would be at a time you were awake. But according to the moons, the night was already half over and you knew you would soon pass out from exhaustion.

Maybe you could rest your eyes for a little bit. There was no problem with that, right? You were already lying in such a comfortable position — the cushions underneath you supporting your body just right, the blanket keeping it neither too warm nor too cold, the pillows behind your head cradling it perfectly. You could just close your eyes and listen to the crackling of the fire around your nest. No shame in that.

You were just dozing off, losing the inner battle against the overwhelming fatigue, when you heard a dull thud that was muffled by the closed door that led to the main area of your home.

“Wha…” You mumbled and pushed yourself up with your eyes still half-closed.

Seconds later, the door slid open and revealed the imposing sight of your mate.

So he was finally home. It made you breathe out a happy sigh and a drowsy smile etched itself onto your lips. You felt instantly at ease at having your mate back home and by your side. Not that you ever felt in danger being without him on the grounds of his clan, but you could never know who or what could force its way into your home when Mi’ytiar was gone. However, you doubted that they could make it far to you. Not only did your mate have his loyal warriors who had their eyes on you when he wasn’t able to himself, but the three Hell Hounds outside would rip anyone with bad intentions apart.

You rubbed your eyes until Mi’ytiar became less blurry and you let them wander over his figure, noting the state he was in. He was covered in dirt, grime, and what you hoped wasn’t his blood. As much as off-putting his appearance was, you were pleased to see that he complied with your wish to keep whatever corpse he had kept as a trophy away from your bedroom and instead leave it on the table in the main room.

You were just about to open your mouth when you flinched back at the intensity with which he was stalking towards you, embodying every aspect of his predatory nature, eyeing you like his next prey.

“No, Mi’ytiar. Don’t you dare!” You protested when it became obvious he was about to climb on your nest, dirtying it with whatever disgusting fluids his body was covered in.

But he didn’t listen, his mind hazy with hunger and overcome by the lasting high of his latest kills. Bad Bloods were a nice challenge and he was thrilled when he discovered that three of them were hunting on a neighboring planet. Their heads were now lying on the sleek black surface of the table outside.

You yelped when his bone-crushing weight settled on top of you, successfully covering your whole body with his, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. You could hear and feel the greedy intake of your scent through his nose. His tongue licked over every inch of your skin nearby as his hands roamed your body, his claws already ripping on the fabric of your nightwear.

You would have spread your legs for him, would have helped him take off your clothing, offering every part of your body for him to take, to devour, if the fact that he was just ruining the materials you had used for your nest wasn’t the only thing on your mind right down. As well as the disgusting stench that overwhelmed your nostrils and made you gag.

You weren’t the most flexible, definitely not now, but you still managed to pull up your knee and push him away from you by placing your foot in the middle of his chest. You knew you wouldn’t have succeeded if not for a subconscious part of his mind was still able to obey you even though his logical thinking was clouded with primal need.

Mi’ytiar, though very reluctantly, backed down and sat back on his haunches. His claws dug into his thighs and his chest was heaving with heavy breaths, showing how much strength it required for him to hold himself back.

“I’m sorry, my love, but you reek.” You grumbled and eyed him in disdain.

He only growled back.

“Why don’t we take a bath, hm?” You suggested with a head tilt to the door to your right which led to what you would call a bathroom by human standards.

Sliding sideways off the nest, you walked backward, a smirk on your face and your eyes fixed on him as your fingers fiddled with the knot of your robe, a souvenir you had acquired from one of your trips to Earth.

“Are you coming, tanhì?” You asked him, placing one foot behind the other.

The swishing of the door and the different feeling of the floor covering signaled you had entered the bathroom. The first time you had been inside it when Mi’ytiar had shown you your new home, it reminded you of a cave. Despite the usual futuristic and modern Yautja aesthetic, this room had a natural feeling. It wasn’t unlike the bathroom of the apartment you had lived in with your family decades ago. The necessities had been there. Except for a bathtub. Yautja didn’t necessarily bathe. They swam, yes, but bathe?

You didn’t exactly need a bathtub as you hadn’t used the one you had back then, but after a tiring day, it had been nice to relax in the hot water. Someday, you had voiced your displeasure to Mi’ytiar who had scooped you up and taken you to the hot springs not far from the clan grounds but still inside his territory. And although the sight of it was breathtaking — steam rising from the ponds of water arranged like stair steps so the water could run down from one spring to the next like a waterfall — and the surrounding nature was quite romantic, you weren’t exactly comfortable stripping naked where whatever lurking creature could creep up on you.

You didn’t want to complain, of course, and you would eventually adapt to the fact that you had to forego certain human comforts. That didn’t mean you didn’t share how humans lived compared to Yautja with him whenever a difference in their everyday life occurred, be it the bed, clothes, or the bathtub.

Just as you were getting used to bathing in the hot springs, hidden in the rock crevice, you stumbled over the beginnings of what would soon look like a pool when you walked into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It was nestled into the large niche — square, three meters by three meters — of the room opposite the door where the shower-like setup used to be. When you had asked him what this was about, he had only said “Home.” and left it by that.

Standing in front of said pool, you turned your head to look over your shoulder and watched as the door closed behind Mi’ytiar who had just entered the bathroom. You let the robe slide down your shoulders and to the crook of your arms before letting it pool at your feet. When you turned to face him, you revealed the side profile of your body to his eyes, the swell of your breasts, and the small bump your belly was sporting.

When you thought back to your profession on Earth, you looked like any expectant mother in the late stage of her first trimester. Your baby bump wasn’t that big yet, but you still had to give up on certain items of clothing because they already wouldn’t fit you anymore.

When your belly started to grow, you suddenly remembered that your period should have started roughly two weeks ago. The second your brain had fully comprehended that your mate could have possibly impregnated you, that with the highest probability you carried the product of your mutual love under your heart and that you would soon become a mother, you didn’t waste a second to track him down and tell him the big news.

He hadn’t exactly reacted the way you had hoped. Instead of a positive or negative reaction, instead of pressing his forehead to yours while purring or growling at you to get rid of it, he had just stared. He stood frozen in front of you and fixed your hands which cupped the barely noticeable swell of your stomach.

You had just gained a little bit of weight, he told himself. She couldn’t be pregnant, she couldn’t carry my pup.

How could you, a human, be able to achieve something where others had failed?

He needed answers, so he hastily but carefully picked you up and took you to Cahrein who only confirmed your suspicion. You were indeed pregnant.

Only after a quick talk with the tribal healer, something about “not possible” and “how”, he finally showed you how he really felt — overjoyed. And how could he not? Now that you were carrying his pup, you were connected to your mate in every possible way.

“Are you coming?” You asked him again, one foot dipped into the warm water.

Mi’ytiar didn’t waste any more time getting rid of his armor, not caring about any damage he may cause, as he ripped every piece of it off his body, letting it fall to the ground as he walked to the pool. When he stepped into it, your body was already fully immersed and you swam to where you kept the nourishing oils, sweet-smelling soap, and the washcloth. With everything you needed in hand, you returned to where Mi’ytiar had settled on the bench of the pool. You freed your hands by placing everything on the edge so you could lift yourself up on his lap. Mi’ytiar immediately pulled you closer, one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other embracing your bump.

You didn’t talk while you cleaned him up. You stayed quiet, not feeling the necessity to talk, while he relished in your pampering, only voicing how much he enjoyed it with purrs. And when you were done, you snuggled up to him, cheek pressed against his chest and arms loosely wrapped around him. Mi’ytiar later had to carry you out of the pool, dry you off, and bring you to bed, your sleeping form pressed against his body.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

@rorrika, @lialiwasneverseen, @lil-lilacwitch, @purplekitten30, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan,

@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid, @zaky-ller, @chrishy973, @devilslittlehelper,

@freyablack90

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

#predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator #fanfic

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tillysslife · 3 months ago

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soft launches—w. scobell smau

pairings: walker scobell x childhood!bsf!reader

WALKERSCOBELL POSTED ON INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername and others

walkerscobell My favourite view :)

aryansimahdri man…

walkerscobell ☺️

walkersgf guys guys its me...

user the mystery is actually killing meeee

pjofanatic drop the @ or we riot

leahsavajeffries can confirm this is not a pr stunt

yourusername cuties!!

user AGHGHGHG

user walker scobell i am BEGGING you to stop playing wit us

momonatamada i'm eating this up like it's my full time job

⤷user not even mo knows??

charliebushnell when she doesn’t even like him back HA

comment deleted

user i hope whoever this is knows she's the most lucky girl in the world

dior.n.goodjohn walker. scobell.

load more comments…

You were painfully oblivious to Walkers massive crush on you. You two had been neighbours ever since he had moved in to the house beside yours in pre-school. The connection had been instant between you two.

And as age and maturity tracked your friendship what started as meeting outside to draw on the pavement with coloured chalk turned into sneaking out of your houses and trekking to target.

The biggest problem that had ever rose between your hearts was the long time he was away to film Percy Jackson. You two had never spent time away from eachother, opting to go to eachother’s family holidays and even beg to be put in the same classes at school.

Walker having to leave and fly to Canada was tougher than either of you had anticipated. Separation anxiety was definitely a word thrown around by your friends and family, and you missed him dearly. Though, Walker missed you even more.

The separation only clarified Walker’s feelings for you. He was in love with you. He always had been forever but he buried it deep inside, classing it as platonic admiration instead of admitting that he was head over heels and had been for years.

But it was hard to escape feelings that were so all-consuming.

When filming season one wrapped up, the two of you spent all your time together. Giving Walker tons of photos and memories to store with him while he was back in Vancouver for season two.

That is how he started ‘soft launching’ you on his instagram. The first post started with a chaos of questions. Many from you.

His cast members had caught on to his infatuation and only ever commented with disappointed faces to his delusional posts but you were left in the dark.

You didn’t like the gnawing feeling in your gut every time you viewed Walker’s social media. Who was this girl who had him this down bad? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Why wasn’t it you?

You were truly so oblivious that you somehow didn’t even realise that the girl in the photos were you.

It wasn’t until you saw a Tiktok that annotated all of his posts that it clicked .

It shows multiple pieces of evidence that the mystery girl was you. A hoodie the girl was wearing that was on your account as well. A side by side photo that made it look a helluva lot like you. A coffee cup he posted that had your custom order on it.

Suddenly it was viral and everyone thought it was you. Fans of him flooded your DM’s you were tagged in several comments and your friends and his alike were going crazy.

ACCEPT FACETIME FROM SCOOBY🐕

YES OR NO

You don’t even let him say hello before you burst out, “It’s me! I’m the soft launch?!”

“What happened to hello?” He teased, a smirk smugger than you had ever seen on his face.

You rolled your eyes, narrowing your eyes at your best friend. “Hello Walker William Scobell. Now tell me why everyone is telling me that the girl in all those photos was me.”

“Yes sweetheart, it was you the whole time.” He chuckled, dragging a hand down his jaw, “It’s always been you. You’re just oblivious.”

“Hey excuse you. I am not oblivious,” You retorted.

Walker shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I mean… C’mon who else could it be y/n?”

You can only stare at him, jaw dropped and unable to breathe. Because now that you really think about it, who else could it be. The captions, the hoodies, the messages, the way he had been captured multiple times looking at you like you hung the stars.

You let out a shaky breath, your voice softer now, “So you weren’t just playing the internet.”

His smirk drops, and it is replaced by such a sincerity in his eyes that it takes your breath away. “No silly, I was playing you.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat but you can’t formulate any word in your head but; oh! The way he’s looking at you right now is like he’s already won.

Walker raises a brow “So… did it work?”

“Did what work?” You question quietly, swallowing forcefully.

His voice goes unbelievably soft, the tone he uses when you’ve just slept over and he’s tenderly waking you up. “Soft launching myself to you.”

Tbe silence stretches and your heart beats at a speed that doctors wouldn’t approve of.

Walker watches you through the screen, ever so patient.

You take a shaky breath “So… you’re saying this whole time… you’ve liked me?” The last two words come out as an uncertain squeak. Like you’re not too sure you want him to hear.

Walker blinks “Mhm, I always have.”

Your stomach flips “And the playlist?”

“Just me trying to tell you I love you through our favourite songs.”

You exhale sharply , your eyes fluttering closed “Oh my god.”

Walker leans closer to the screen, a smile on his lips “Childhood friends falling in love. What a concept.”

Your heart malfunctions. And you hate how easily he’s saying it like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.

You shake your head, laughing under your breath “You’re unbelievable.”

He grins “You love it.”

You smile because you do. You really, really do.

So you finally voice it, your words hardly a whisper “Yeah I do.”

Walker freezes, the teasing smile fades. His eyes flicker between yours like he has to know you’re being serious, waiting for you to take it back. “…You do?”

You nod. There’s no going back now. “Yeah Walker I really do.”

His face breaks into the biggest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

But before you can even process it he hangs up.

“What the hell,” You mutter.

Then your phone buzzes “Omw. Open the door.”

Your stomach drops and then confusion kicks in. Isn’t he meant to be in Canada right now?

Nonetheless, you sprint to the mirror, fixing your disheveled appearance from running yoir hands repeatedly through your hair when you found out. Two seconds later there’s a knock on the door.

And when you open it, Walker’s right there.

Grinning. Out of breath. Eyes shining with everything that he wanted to say.

And then? He says none of it.

He just cups your cheeks with a quick, quiet “Can I please?”

As soon as you nod, he presses his lips to yours.

YOURUSERNAME POSTED ON INSTAGRAM

🎵ivy—frank ocean

liked by ryanreynolds and others

yourusername yeah my boyfriends pretty cool

walkerscobell Finally mine❤️

comments are limited

#walker scobell #walker scobell fluff #walker scobell smau #walker scobell x reader #walker scobell imagines #aryan simhadri #leah sava jeffries #charlie bushnell #pjo #ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘'𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

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cup1dluvhss · 1 month ago

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˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ BIMBO!READER HEADCANNONS, written by cup1dluvhs

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ more bimbo!reader hcs (sfw)

| warnings: fluff, angst if you squint, swearing

| taking requests !

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ you always respond to comments of girls hitting on hamzah in his tiktok’s with the most diabolical shit ever, because you know that practically everyone knows your his girlfriend and some people just do it despite this, especially girls who have a decent following and think they can pull him because of this. ‘sweetheart— did you actually reply to this girls comment with ‘so so chopped, girl’ ?’ hamzah says, a smile instantly coming onto your face as you raised your brows at him. ‘last time i checked i’m the only one who should be commenting ‘raw, next question’ under your videos, baby.’

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ you constantly walk around the house in barely anything, and always manage to somehow accidentally walk into a room where hamzah’s recording in your underwear. he’ll be recording a gameplay with martin, and you’ll enter the cameras view behind him in lacy panties and a baby tee with no bra on, hamzah’s head instantly snapping behind him to gawk at you. ‘baby—fuck you look good, but i’m recording.’ he’ll say, a laugh escaping his mouth as he hears a little ‘fuck!’ from you as you scamper out of view, instantly grabbing a blanket to cover yourself up.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ ever since moving in with him, you’ve made his house your own, even his cats. you bought red and blue little red and blue collars with their names on them, bedazzled with little rhinestones and gems to match your own aesthetic. when hamzah noticed it for the first time, he was incredibly happy that you were so in love with his pets that you’d buy them things. ‘hey, did you get red and blue new collars?’ he’ll ask, walking into your shared bedroom as you sat at your vanity, doing your makeup. ‘yeah, aren’t they so cute?’ you’ll say as hamzah moves closer to you, pressing a little kiss on your neck as you smile. ‘i love them.’

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ when your out with hamzah and another guy hits on you, which happens very frequently, you’ll make it very clear that your currently in a relationship and have no interest in them whatsoever by gesturing towards your boyfriend or looking them up and down. ‘hey, my friend thinks your hot and wants your number.’ a random guy will say at a bar, your eyes drifting off toward his friend as your grip on hamzah’s hand tightens, his body moving closer to you. ‘is your friend fucking blind, or something?’ you’ll say, a smile making its way onto hamzah’s face as you’ll raise your interlocked hands, a scowl on your face as you turn your body away from them, dragging hamzah with you.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ you always ask hamzah to do jobs around the house to help you out, and he does get busy, but you’ll still scold him if he forgets to do the dishes or feed red and blue like you asked him to do earlier that day. ‘seriously? you’ve been playing roblox all day with martin, hamzah, and i’ve been working.’ you’ll groan as you straddle him on the couch, your legs either side of his body as his large hands are resting lazily on your waist. ‘m’sorry, sweetheart. i’ll do them later, yeah?’ he’ll say, but you won’t take ‘later’ for an answer, because you know later means never. ‘later? when’s later, hamzah?’ you’ll say, your expression fading to one of annoyance as he sighs, his grip on your waist tightening. ‘you’re gonna make me do them now, aren’t you?’ he’ll say, watching you as you nod profusely. ‘oh, absolutely. move your ass.’

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ hamzah will always comment incredibly inappropriate compliments under your lip syncing posts, but your relationship has gotten to the point where everyone knows your dating and he doesn’t have to bother holding back on making it known how much he loves you. ‘beautiful. no protection tonight?’ he’ll comment, and you’ll always reply, matching his freak with something like ‘i’m wearing the lacy ones you like.’ which will instantly have people in the replies losing their minds.

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orangepeelknives · 8 days ago

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the way it's so obvious that will was raised and mainly influenced by a Boy Mom and mack had a Girl Mom and was mainly raised and influenced by a Boy Dad is sooooo rich to moiiii.

will "universally beloved" smith being soooo secure in himself all the time. like oh you wanna make fun of me for listening to katy perry and adele?? dgaf. go ahead. wanna have me record stupid tiktoks that are gonna make ppl call me gay on the internet? sure okay teehee! sending flowers on mothers day to his billet mom while halfway across the world. posting up on insta w the sister, the family. the matching tracksuits in boston like yeah yk what i bet will fucking put the idea in the goddamn gc i bet when someone suggested it as a joke he was like yes. absolutely. waiter your ugliest tracksuit pleas. goes back to what i was saying abt insecurities - will is confident. thats not as much of an issue for will when it comes to personal life. he didnt crash out when he was in a slump, he stays positive, he's perfectly okay being made fun of constantly (mack on the podcast just delivering blow after affectionate blow). he has friends and he knows it, he's well liked and he knows it, he's a good hockey player and he knows it. it's not that hes super chill or not conpetitive, its just that hes secure in himself. not cocky, no god complex. absolutely NOT saying that WSH is insecurity-less at all, but i do think he is self assured enough to be capable of handling his insecurities normally.

my beloved mack on the other hand......oh that boy is RIFE With Issues. First off, Girl Mom Robyn Celebrini? that diva does not gaffff she is a Charley gal all the way. feel like she lowkey just handed the boys over to rick like okay go crazy. she had no issues with the coaching style that rick used to raise mack and aiden, and seems generally more uninvolved than a lot of other hockey moms, even tho colleen is def wayyy MORE involved than normal, robyn lives an hour away and goes to zero practices and zero games. so i think it's a fairly safe assumption that rick is the dominant parental figure here.

and when your dominant parental figure is also your coach?? you arent getting parented, you're getting coached. the lines blur immensely.

first of all, let’s underline this: Macklin Celebrini is a product of a Boy Dad household. not just any Boy Dad, but a performance-coach, daily-checklist, grindset-before-breakfast Boy Dad. ricky wasn’t parenting, he was mentoring. Which means there were no real emotional safety nets. you’re sad? skate it out. you’re tired? get better, push through. the idea of comfort for its own sake doesn’t exist in that world. There’s love, sure, but it’s conditional, and it’s communicated through improvement.

so of course mack's entire identity is built around performance = worth. If he’s not doing well, he’s not just failing, he’s not lovable. he has no idea how to separate “im not playing great” from “im a bad person who has disappointed everyone who has ever believed in me.”

and then there’s will.

will is over here just… being a person. Being confident and beloved and totally fine with the fact that people think he’s a little cringe sometimes. Because Will is backed by a whole childhood of unconditional emotional support. Boy Mom behavior. you know he grew up in a house where they named feelings. where if he cried, nobody told him to suck it up, they probably asked why, made him tea, and listened. of course he doesn’t care if someone calls him gay on tiktok, his mommy has been gassing him up in the comments since U10.

thats why the iihf vid is sooooo revealing. will's recording his little “hope you’re having fun” like it’s no big deal. bc to him, it isnt. hes just talking to his best friend. he knows they’ll make fun of him a bit, but it’s with love, and he can laugh with them. Mack, on the other hand, is out there alone. no wsh to be the buffer, to set the tone, to let him know “hey, we’re all just having fun here.” so mack panics. He overthinks the tone, overcorrects into flat affect, gives absolutely nothing to the camera, artificially deepens his voice. bc if he picks the wrong vibe? if he comes off too affectionate, too weird, too off-beat? he'll get mocked, and not in a fun way. in a way that confirms what he secretly believes: he’s doing it wrong. he always does it wrong.

same deal with the emergency contact video. Mack immediately goes “you go first" not because he’s shy, but because he needs to know if he’s allowed to pick will. he needs to see it reflected back. It’s not enough to feel the closeness, he needs the explicit naming of it, because he’s never been taught to trust his own instincts when it comes to emotional safety. he only knows performance cues. so when they point at each other and he gives that tiny, breathy “okay good” that is not a joke. thats relief. thats “thank god I read this right.” thats “I picked the right person and he picked me back.”

It’s also such a perfect example of how dependent mack is on will for emotional calibration. will is the tone. mack doesn’t know how to read the room unless will reads it first. thats why when will not there? Mack either shuts down or spins out or immediately goes looking for will (read, every practice ever). he has no compass. no stabilizer. his baseline isn’t his own self-worth, it’s “what is will doing? okie, i'll mirror that.”

mack's insecurity isn’t about failure itself, its about what happens after failure. bc in Mack’s world, after a bad game, you don’t get comfort, you get correction. you get game tape. a sharper edge. a checklist. from rick, after a bad performance, the message was never “you’re still enough,” it was “you better fix this before next time.” not because rick doesn’t love him, but because tick only knows how to show love through pressure. And that messes a kid up. thats the issue with having a coach-parent.

so when will came into mack's life, laughing off his own slumps, staying soft even when frustrated, nottaking his emotions out on the people around him, it changed the blueprint. bc mack learned through will that you could have a shit week and still be met with a chirp and a pat on the shoulder, not silence and homework. in mh opinion thats part of the reason why mack didn’t lose it when will started the season cold. bc he was mirroring. bc will had never punished him for having an off night. so when the roles reversed? mack didn’t need to lash out. He already knew how to hold space, because will had held it for him first. if will thinks its okay to laugh off a bad pass, then maybe it is okay! in the same way that if will thinks its okay to pick me for the emergency contact, or film these dumbass tiktoks for sharks media, or order milk and cookies in the hotel, then maybe it is okay!

thats the kind of emotional foundation mack is building now: not “im scared you’ll leave,” but “im scared you’ll stop being soft with me.” And Will never does. even when mack is spiraling or shut down or being a sulky freak about stupid shit, will never punishes him.

anyways in this essay i will...

#straight from the character notes #my daily willmack dynamics essay lolz #the fact that we know soooooo so much about the way mack was raised and the fact that it literally is sooooo reflective in him as a person #likeeeeeee #unreal #anyways #willmack #mack #wsh

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orellazalonia · 8 days ago

Text

Heart First, Sanity Later

Summary: You, a dangerously chaotic genius with the common sense of a soggy spoon, somehow captures the heart of Bucky Barnes. Despite the constant emotional whiplash, raccoon-related injuries, and deeply cursed inventions, Bucky finds himself falling hard… somewhere between a Capri Sun intervention robot and a vent-related rescue. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: This was based on this post I came across from @ghouljams earlier. Please let me know if you want me to remove any of the information you listed here.

Word Count: 3.4k+

A/N: I had a blast writing this and I am begging on my hands and knees that other people like this as well so I can write more of unhinged reader. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Sequel | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

Bucky didn’t mean to get attached. In fact, he very specifically meant not to get attached to you.

You, with your wide smile and increasingly concerning decision-making skills. You, who walked into a briefing ten minutes late with a Slurpee, claimed you got “time-displaced,” and then flawlessly identified the year, model, and VIN of a car from a blurry photo Tony handed out. “That’s a 1972 Chevelle SS,” You’d said casually. “But the rims are from a later model. 1976, I think.”

He stared at you. Everyone did.

You slurped. “What?”

Later, Bucky watched you put your phone in the fridge, forget about it, then ask him if he’d “seen a text from 7-Eleven recently.” You didn’t even seem high. That was the worst part. You just… existed like that. All the time.

A living contradiction. A walking cosmic joke. The human version of a browser with 72 tabs open, one playing music, none labeled, and all of them about wildly different topics ranging from “theoretical wormhole stability” to “can ducks feel shame.”

And the worst part? You were insanely good at your job.

When it came to the field, you moved like you’d choreographed every punch in advance. Like your brain hit a switch and rerouted all the loose marbles into sheer precision.

But outside of that? Absolute chaos.

One time you asked if the word “colonel” was a typo because you’d only ever read it.

"Why is it spelled like 'colon-el'?” You’d asked Bucky, eating popcorn with a throwing knife for apparently no reason. “Like. You’re telling me we all just agreed to ignore the 'L'?”

He blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“Sounds fake but okay.”

He wanted to strangle you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to wrap you in a blanket and take you to a doctor because no one should eat four bananas and not know why their stomach hurts. (“I thought they were like… nature’s snack bars!” You’d wailed from the floor. “Why does nature lie?”)

Still, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. Something that made Bucky keep finding excuses to be around you. Something that made him bite back a smile when you declared, with utter confidence, that “Citizen Kane” was a man’s full name and you “felt bad for him growing up with that.”

Sam had to leave the room. Steve looked like he aged five years. Bucky? He just leaned back in his chair and muttered, “You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”

You beamed. “I know, right?”

And that was just the beginning.

Bucky knew it the moment you turned to him in the middle of a high-stakes infiltration and whispered:

“Hey. Do you think raccoons ever get embarrassed?”

He froze mid-step, crouched beside you behind a cluster of storage crates, both of you watching a Hydra compound patrol pace along the wall ahead. Guns primed. Comms live. Two minutes to breach.

You blinked at him, eyes wide and totally serious about the question in the entirely inappropriate setting.

“What?” He hissed.

You frowned thoughtfully, like he was the weird one. “They have those little hands, right? Like… what if one drops its snack in front of another raccoon. Is that, like, raccoon shame? Do they feel judged?”

Bucky stared. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. It had been a long week after all.

Then you added, “Anyway, two guards approaching. They’ll pass each other in about four seconds. I can take the left. You want the one with the scar?”

You didn’t even wait for an answer. Your body vanished into the shadows, clean and calculated. Three seconds later, both guards were unconscious and being gently rolled into the bushes like unwanted pizza boxes.

Bucky just stood there, breathing. You terrified him but not in the way enemies did. No, that would be too simple. Because he could fight Hydra, take a bullet, disarm a bomb, but you?

You were something else. A walking contradiction.

You once tripped over your own shoelaces while explaining quantum theory, then beat four highly trained operatives unconscious with a clipboard. You called a Glock a “grippy lil’ pew stick” but recited the Geneva Convention word-for-word because you “liked bedtime reading.”

And tonight was no different.

By the time the mission was done, the intel recovered, and the building cleared, Bucky was sore, bruised, and fully convinced that he was doomed. Because somewhere between the absurd commentary, the flawless fighting, and the way you wiped blood from your brow and grinned at him like you weren’t covered in chaos, he felt it.

That thing. The awful, nauseating, heart-clutching feeling.

Affection.

It hit him in the middle of your post-mission debrief, which mostly consisted of you sitting on the quinjet floor, drinking chocolate milk out of a thermos and recounting the entire op like it was a cute story you were telling children.

“And then I was like, Bam! right to the neck, and he just went down like a sack of sad potatoes. Did you see that? You saw that, right, Buck? I did the thing with the kick!”

He didn’t answer. He was looking at you like you’d grown a second head or like how you were the only thing stuck in his head these days. God, you were awful.

You had blood on your elbow and half your gear undone. You were sprawled out on the floor like a sleep-deprived gremlin, and when you looked up at him and smiled, like he was the only person in the world who mattered… He was done. Gone.

“You okay there, Grumpypants?” You asked.

“I think I might hate you,” He muttered, sitting down beside you.

You grinned, bumping his shoulder with yours. “That’s fair. I’m an acquired taste. Like oysters. Or war crimes.”

He barked a laugh before he could stop it. You looked so proud.

“I’m serious,” He said, sobering. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day. You don’t take anything seriously.”

You just stared at him for a moment, and then, quietly, you said, “I take you seriously.”

The jet went quiet.

And Bucky sat very, very still because somehow, that hit harder than any mission ever had.

You weren’t just funny. Or weird. Or brilliant in a way that made his head hurt.

You were kind. Kind in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Like you saw through the Winter Soldier and the scowl and the kill count, and you still chose to sit beside him, sipping chocolate milk and talking about raccoon shame.

And Bucky Barnes, world-weary assassin, trauma-laden super-soldier, turned to you and realized:

He was fucked.

In love with a person who once confidently said “quinoa” was pronounced “kin-oh-ah” and didn’t believe him when he corrected you.

You looked up from your thermos. “You’re doing the staring thing again. Am I bleeding from the ear?”

“No,” Bucky said, voice low. “You’re just…”

“Sexy?” You offered helpfully.

“…Terrifying.”

You winked. “Same difference.”

And Bucky Barnes, against all logic, reason, and survival instinct, knew he was already in too deep.

The next mission had gone off without a hitch… at least, for everyone except Bucky.

A few cuts here, a couple of bruises there, but nothing too serious. At least, that’s what he told himself as he sat on the edge of the quinjet, feeling the burn in his shoulder from a bullet graze. But the moment you walked into the medbay with a roll of bandages in your hand, it was like everything inside him twisted in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Okay, Bucky. Time to let the master do her magic,” you said, flashing that grin of yours, the one that always made his heart do weird, involuntary things.

Bucky blinked, trying to shake the disoriented feeling. “You’re the one who got shot today. Why am I the one getting patched up?”

“Because I’m immortal,” You said matter-of-factly. “Also, I’m not bleeding anywhere you can see, so that’s a bonus.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’re immortal?”

You sat down beside him, rolling your sleeves up. “No, but I like to pretend I am. You know, like a cooler superhero.”

He winced slightly as you poked at his side. “That’s what I’m dealing with, huh?”

“You love it,” You teased, squeezing out some antiseptic onto a cotton pad.

“You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out of a plane for this,” Bucky muttered, though he couldn’t stop the faint grin from tugging at his lips.

“Not gonna lie, I’d be mad if you did,” You admitted, gently dabbing at his side. “Also, I’d haunt you. I know how to haunt people. I’ve read a lot of books about ghosts.”

He chuckled, despite himself. “Of course you have.”

“Oh, absolutely. I even have a theory about why the Titanic sank, and it’s completely different from the official one. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not what they say.”

Bucky glanced over at you, eyebrow raised. “This I gotta hear.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice dramatically as if revealing state secrets. “Okay, so. It wasn’t an iceberg that caused the sinking. It was actually the government trying to erase all evidence of the giant squid they were experimenting on, and they blamed it on the iceberg to cover up the real cause.”

Bucky blinked, unsure whether you were serious or not. “Wait, what?” He asked slowly.

You looked at him deadpan. “You didn’t hear the rumors? They found footage, you know. The squid was huge. It even had tentacles.”

He stared at you, speechless.

"Anyway," You continued, as if you hadn’t just suggested the world’s greatest conspiracy, "What we do know is that my bandage technique is flawless. See this?" You lifted a corner of the bandage to show him a perfect wrap around his side.

Bucky blinked. "Did you just distract me with a giant squid theory while you patched me up?"

“Absolutely.” You beamed at him. “Works every time. Just don’t tell anyone you’re in love with me because I’m not responsible for any heart attacks.”

Bucky froze, his heartbeat suddenly in his throat.

You were still so nonchalant. Still so you, so damn confident and so sure of yourself. It took everything in him not to lean in and kiss you right there.

But then, you looked up at him, and for the briefest moment, that smile of yours softened. “You’re good, Bucky,” You said quietly. “You’ve been through more shit than any of us. But you’re still here. That’s something, you know?”

His chest tightened.

“And you know what?” You continued, your voice so much softer now, like a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to be a soldier all the time. Sometimes, you can just be Bucky.”

He swallowed, looking at you. “And what about you?”

“Oh, me? I’m a mess,” You shrugged, finally looking away, as if it was no big deal. “I’m just here to make the chaos look cute.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, that familiar teasing glint in them. “That’s my secret. You like it.”

Bucky chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wanted to say something, wanted to admit something. That little voice in his head kept screaming at him to just say it already, but he was scared. He was scared of how deep you had burrowed under his skin, of how easy it was to forget everything else when you were around.

Instead, he just leaned forward and cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You’re… something else, you know that?”

You blinked at him in surprise, your lips parted, as if trying to process the sudden shift in the air. For a moment, there was a palpable tension between the two of you, like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to do something.

But then, in your usual way, you broke it, shrugging with a grin. “I know. You’re welcome.”

Bucky’s heart did a weird flip, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to truly relax, just a little. He didn’t want to admit it. Not yet. Not even to himself.

But as you leaned in to finish wrapping his side, your hand brushing his skin lightly, he knew he was already in way too deep.

The next incident started with a toaster. Not even a cool toaster. Just a boring, silver Stark-issued kitchen appliance that you were suspiciously proud of. I You’d taken it apart and rebuilt it but “better.” No one asked you to. No one gave you permission. You just did it.

“Now it sings the SpongeBob theme when your toast is done,” You explained, beaming as you held up a slice of whole wheat like it was a golden ticket.

Bucky stared at you. “You tampered with government property.”

“Enhanced.” You corrected. “And before you ask, no, I will not apologize. This is the future.”

Then it sang. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” BWEEEEEP - Toast done.

Bucky looked like he was praying for divine intervention. “You’re gonna get us all court-martialed over this.”

Two hours later, you were banned from the kitchen, which didn’t stop you from relocating to the common area with your newest project: building what you claimed was a “mousetrap but for anxiety.”

It was made of pipe cleaners, glow sticks, and what might’ve been a dismantled Roomba.

“I call her Deborah,” You said, gently stroking it. “She senses emotional instability and gives you a juice box.”

As if on cue, it whirred over to Bucky, bumped into his leg, and slowly offered him a Capri Sun.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Then she thinks you’re too far gone. She’s very wise.”

Steve walked in, surveyed the scene, and simply turned around without speaking. He didn’t even ask anymore.

Later that night, Bucky caught you in the hallway attempting to climb into the ceiling with a flashlight between your teeth and a jar of pickles under your arm.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, exhausted.

You paused halfway into a vent, dropping the flashlight briefly. “Depends. Do you believe in ceiling gremlins?”

“No.”

“Then I’m doing taxes.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Please. I’m begging you. Come down.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then slowly slid back out like a raccoon emerging from a trash can. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely and not because I got stuck.”

You had absolutely gotten stuck. And the worst part? He was smitten.

Every time you did something completely absurd, which was always, he found himself watching you a little too long, smiling a little too much, wondering what the hell you were going to do next and why it made his chest ache in a weirdly pleasant way.

Even now, covered in ceiling dust and holding a pickle jar, you looked up at him with that infuriatingly endearing grin.

“You’re in love with me,” You stated confidently.

Bucky blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You popped a pickle in your mouth. “You’ve got that look. Like a grumpy cat who accidentally cuddled someone and doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I do not look like-“

“It's okay. You don’t have to say it.” You patted his chest affectionately. “Your body language screams ‘emotionally unavailable man finds chaotic cryptid and feels things.’”

“I am not emotionally unavailable.”

“You have a go bag, Bucky.”

“…That’s standard protocol.”

“Your toothbrush is still in the packaging.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You’d won. Again.

“You’re gonna kiss me one day,” You said as you walked past him, pickle jar under one arm, flashlight in your other hand. “And when you do, I’m gonna be so smug you’ll try to throw yourself off the building.”

Bucky stood there in the hall, alone, heart doing its dumb little thudding thing. He hated you. He adored you. And he was never getting that toothbrush insult out of his head.

When the big moment happened, It wasn’t a big mission. It wasn’t even a real mission. It was just supposed to be recon.

And yet somehow, you were sitting on the floor of a dusty, abandoned warehouse with a concussion, holding a broken walkie-talkie like it personally betrayed you.

“Okay, but in my defense,” You slurred slightly, “I didn’t know the raccoon had a knife.”

Bucky stared at you, expression unreadable, as blood dripped slowly from your temple.

“You ran into an unmarked building alone, set off three alarms, fell through a skylight, and got jumped by wildlife.”

You held up a finger. “Armed wildlife.”

He ran a hand down his face.

“I swear to God, you are one poorly timed pun away from getting locked in a broom closet until the end of time.”

You blinked up at him. “Kinky.”

He turned away so fast you could almost hear his brain blue-screen. “Jesus Christ.”

But when he looked back at you: your lip bloodied, eyes dazed, hair full of insulation from where you’d crashed through the ceiling like a chaotic Christmas angel, something in his chest snapped.

You were always like this. Impossible. Endearing. Brilliant in the most horrifying ways. A human Wikipedia article with a death wish and a spark in your eyes that made him forget, just for a second, that the world was awful.

And that spark was flickering. Just a little. And he hated it.

“You can’t keep doing this,” He began, voice tight. “You can’t keep treating your life like it’s expendable.”

You blinked slowly. “That sounds fake. I’m clearly immortal.”

“I’m serious.” He crouched in front of you, fists clenched. “You run into every situation like you’re bulletproof, and you’re not. One day, I’m not gonna be there to drag your dumbass out of a flaming building or disarm a guy who has a bazooka made of forks or- or whatever the hell today was!”

“It was a raccoon with a grudge.”

“That’s not a thing!”

You stared at him in silence for a beat, then said, very softly, “You’re worried about me.”

He froze.

“I’m always worried about you,” He said, almost too quiet to hear. “You think I wake up every day wondering what country I’ll have to fly to because you thought jumping off a roof would ‘probably be fine’ if you landed in a bush?!”

You tilted your head. “It was a very fluffy bush.”

”I love you, you absolute menace!”

Silence. You blinked. Then he blinked. Somewhere in the warehouse, a raccoon chittered menacingly.

“…You love me?” You echoed, like he’d just said he wanted to marry a zucchini.

Bucky looked like he might actually combust. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like I love you. Which I do. But I was gonna do it after, like… dinner. Or when you weren’t bleeding.”

“Is this why you made me tea every time I electrocuted myself?”

“Yes!”

“And why you punched that guy who called me a liability?”

“Also yes!”

“And why you didn’t kill me when I installed motion sensors in the hallway and forgot to tell anyone?”

“I almost killed you.”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then: “Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded, still loopy but smiling now. “Okay. I love you too.”

He stared. “You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, why else would I let you eat the last cookie that one time? Or give Deborah full permission to follow you around and scan your emotional damage like a clingy Roomba?”

He laughed, just once, short and stunned.

You leaned forward and poked his chest with one finger. “Also, I have a very deep fondness for emotionally repressed war criminals. It’s kind of my thing.”

Bucky groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet. You’re in love with me.”

“I’m regretting it deeply.”

“No you’re not.” You smiled that crooked, chaotic smile that had ruined his life in the best way.

And despite everything, the dust, the blood, the deeply traumatized raccoon now watching you both from the shadows, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle. Just for a second. As if to say, Yes. You’re chaos incarnate. But you’re mine.

When he pulled back, it was silent for a moment. Both of you looking in each other’s eyes before you whispered, “Did you just kiss me in front of a knife raccoon?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, already regretting all his life choices. “God help me. I did.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #unhinged!reader #fluff #james buchanan barnes #earth’s mightiest headache

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sturnmeovr · 3 months ago

Text

♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader - Will You Be My Valentine, Mommy? (February Au Special)

“Nick, you have to make sure his feet are straight,” Chris groans to his brother, he’d do it himself if his hands weren’t preoccupied holding his two-month-old son above the blank canvas, looking up at the camera that was set on the tripod to make sure it was still recording. A lengthy sigh escaping his lips, “I jus’ want this to be perfect for her.” He had the idea of making you a Valentine’s Day present from Bear — it was your first Valentine’s Day as a mommy and Chris wanted to make it special for you. Of course, his brothers wanted to film it, promising the video would only be posted after you and Chris decided to tell the world about your son. Nick was responsible for making sure the footprints aligned perfectly while Matt was responsible for repainting Bears feet with red after each press to the canvas. Nick sighs, crouching over so he’s eye level with his nephew's tiny feet, “it’s kinda hard when he’s still got the newborn scrunch going on.”

“Hey! — his scrunch is cute, appreciate it while you can,” Matt mumbles before setting his paintbrush in the cup of paint, huffing lightly, “maybe if we do it like this.” Chris watches as Matt takes the Canva, bringing it to Bear’s feet, gently taking a hold of each one of Bear's feet and pressing them to the poster board as gently as he can. A small, sleepy smile makes its way across Bear's face, his tiny body relaxed against his dad's chest, the sight makes Chris melt a bit. Things were a lot better now that you were home, and Bear finally made his arrival. It was hectic at first — sleep deprivation was still a current issue — but it seemed like everything was finally falling into place once Bear was here, like he was the only missing piece that you and Chris relied on to keep your relationship afloat.

Nick squeals, “that’s perfect,” clapping his hands in excitement. Chris hardens his gaze on him, not wanting his noisiness to disturb his half asleep son. Nick was struggling with falling into a newborn baby's routine, no loud music or screaming throughout the house at random hours of the day. He was making an effort, and that’s all that mattered. Matt, on the other hand, took to his nephew very well — he was like a third parent — which was quite hilarious to everyone, considering the fact your whole pregnancy he said he’d rather cut off his own hands than babysit before Bear was fully potty trained. Two months in and the majority of the time you’d have to look around the house just to see which of the boys stole your son this time. Most times they’d have him in the living room, sprawled out on the floor with him as he did tummy time or gently placed in one of the boys’ arms as they took an afternoon nap on the couch. You were more than happy for the extra support, you knew you’d be a mess if it was just you doing everything by yourself.

“Okay but who’s writing it? My handwriting sucks,” Matt chimes in before walking over to the sink to rinse his hands off. Chris clears his throat, “we all have shitty handwriting,” scratching the back of his neck nervously. Ever since he won you back, he had been putting in the maximum effort when it came to pretty much everything — random gifts, breakfast in bed, taking Bear off your hands and running you a hot bubble bath — he was way more attentive than before and you loved every second of it.

The boys decide it should be Chris’ sloppy handwriting; it was his idea after all. Matt takes his nephew, bouncing him gently and pressing light kisses to the top of his head as Chris tries his hardest to neatly spell out the words. A groan erupts from his lungs as he thinks intently once he gets to the word ‘Valentine,’ his brother quickly coming in clutch for him, “V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E,” Nick spells out, biting back a smile as him and Matt share a look. Chris’ face crunches in confusion, “yeah — I wasn’t gonna spell it like that,” a frown pulling at his lips. Matt gently slaps a hand over his shoulder, “we know, buddy. It’s okay,” his subtle joke makes them all crack a smile as Chris finishes up the special painting and Nick takes a baby wipes to the bottoms of Bear's feet.

Chris had sent you out for a mani-pedi earlier in the day as his own way of distracting you so he and his brothers could finish everything and surprise you in the end. Unfortunately, they didn’t realize how time consuming repeatedly painting a two-month-old baby’s feet would be. Everyone knew one wrong move would send Bear into a fit, most times you were the only one who’d be to calm him down so they boys took extra precautions in your absence.

Chris reclined back on the couch, his son cradled in one arm while he studied the dot that floated across his phone screen, giving away your location and telling him that you were down the street. A faint smile spread on his face as the excitement ate away at him, it was the first special moment he had planned for you since Bear's arrival, and he was pretty proud of himself to say the least. Chris looks down at his son, fixing his cute valentines themed onesie so the words are readable.

The soft jiggle of keys cling against the front door as you unlock it, pushing it open, and stepping into your shared home, Chris had the lights dimmed since the baby was sleeping, the faint aroma of a marshmallow fireside candle burns in the background – casting a calming vibe over the whole room. Setting down your keys and your Starbucks coffee, “babe?”

“Living room,” you can hear him call out in a hushed tone, your feet immediately taking action towards his voice. Sure, you missed your babydaddy – but the boy you truly missed was your son, you were never away from him for too long. It was nice you could get out of the house, not having to worry about his wellbeing because you knew he was safe with his dad and uncles. It didn’t stop the mom guilt from rising to your chest every time you pulled out of the driveway, though. A bright smile spreads to your face as you fix your gaze on your baby, “he’s sleeping?” Sinking down onto the seat next to Chris and pressing a light kiss to his lips, a muffled groan escapes his lips as you pull away, “yeah – he jus’ fell out like thirty minutes ago.”

A frown pulls at the corner of your lips, it was a known rule in your household to not wake the sleeping baby, being away from him all day – you just wanted to wake him up, only to see those big blue eyes he inherited from his dad. Chris nearly reads your mind, grabbing a hold of your freshly manicured hand, “I like them – you stuck with the Valentine's theme,” he coos. A blush creeping up to your cheeks at his comment and he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. You bite back a smile, your gazing flicking back to Bear as you notice the long-sleeved onesie he’s dressed in — “Sorry daddy but I’m mommy’s Valentine” — displayed in red letters across the front. A small gasp leaves your lips, you slap a hand over your mouth to keep quiet, “where did you get this?!”

He pushes out a small laugh, “Nick found it at target. We always made something for you — for Valentine's day,” he says quietly, shifting his seat and positioning Bear his arm so he can hand him over as gently as possible. You scoop him up, tugging on his onesie to get a better look at the adorable design, “he made you something too.” You watch as Chris pulls himself to his feet, your eyes following him as he exits the room. Quickly appearing around the corner in a matter of seconds, a small canvas clutched to his chest and a goofy smile etched on his face, “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but I saw it on Insta and thought it’d be a cute thing to do.”

Butterflies swirl in your stomach as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, redness creeping to your cheeks at the thought of him caring enough to make a homemade gift. Chris looks at you for a moment, awe in his eyes and the same goofy smile on his face. He lets out a lengthy sigh before revealing the canvas to you — two red footprints shaped into a heart, the words “will you be my valentine, mommy?” written sloppily across the canvas, making it easy for you to pinpoint that it was Chris’. A small gasp leaves your lips, and you slap a hand over your mouth, not wanting any sudden movement or loud sounds to wake your sleeping son.

“Chris — this is so cute,” your whisper but the excitement in your voice makes itself known. Your pearly whites beam as you study the painting, looking back up at him, “his feet are so whittle,” your baby voice showing as you poke out your bottom lip, “I love this so much — thank you!” He smiles at you, placing a hand on your thigh and giving it a light squeeze, “we can get it framed.”

wc - 1605?? Not proofread yet

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - This was longgg awaited & I was to apologize for being so absent. Life has been kicking my ass if you guys have seen my recent posts. I'm trying my hardest to finish my February special by the 28th, but some of them may be posted in the beginning of March. I'm here to stay so don't worry! Also, can't believe I'm a few followers shy from 900 like whatttt??! I love you guys so much 🥹🫶🏻

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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 months ago

Note

Hopefully it’s not too much of an ick for you, but if you’re up to it, would you ever write Ford eating Reader out on their period?

not the disaster you think it is

a/n: hey love, no ofc it's not, im absolutely ok with the whole period thing. i meant to post this a few days ago, but it’s like i forgot how to write or more like i hated every sentence i wrote and couldn’t get past it. anyway, hope this mood leaves me soon. but here we are!! back to Ford being a total freak, as usual, who’s absolutely head over heels for his partner <3 enjoy, i guess?? and thank my period for the delay :/

tags: Ford x reader, nsfw, fluff and smut, gentle sex to rough, emotional rollercoaster for reader, vaginal sex, period sex, oral sex (f receiving), i guess blood play, embarrassment, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, overthinking, established relationship

you think you're about to die of embarrassment, but Ford’s just getting started because sometimes, the worst-case scenario ends up being the best one.

finally, finally you and Ford are alone. do you even remember the last time this happened? no Stan grumbling at the tv, no Dipper hovering around with a thousand questions, no Mabel dragging you away to watch Waddles collapse in the dirt, no Soos excitedly telling you about some strange new creak in the shack’s walls that sounds exactly like a “genuine ghost noise, dude.” no distractions.

what did matter was that you and Stanford were alone, and after the morning you had, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to fuck the life out of your man.

and god, it’s not like you hadn’t been thinking about it since the second he stepped out of your bedroom looking like that. at first, the missed period had you panicking, your mind spiraling into absolute worst scenarios, but then you chalked it up to stress, shrugged it off, and forgot about it until you saw him. jesus, he didn’t even have to try. you’d made him wear that outfit though, because it was criminal to let him sweat through another goddamn trench coat when summer in gravity falls was like hell had opened its gates and breathed directly onto this weird town, and you weren’t about to let him die of heatstroke just because he was too stubborn to dress appropriately. so you gave him something lighter. and fuck, that was a mistake, because the second you saw him in it, sleeves pushed up, collar slightly undone, his forearms out, his hands, you swore you nearly ovulated again.

but the worst part was when he came running into the shack with those big, dirty, calloused hands holding some kind of tiny, wriggling anomaly he and Dipper had just dug up in the woods, showing it off to everyone like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. all sweaty and flushed from the sun, completely unaware of how fucking delicious he looked, rambling excitedly to Stan, Soos, and Mabel while you had to physically restrain yourself. and you did. you were so good all morning, sitting there, waiting, swallowing down every desperate little urge watching your nerdy man gesturing with those dirty hands as he explained something.

and all you could think was, “i want to eat this man alive.” god, it was unfair how much you wanted him today.

thankfully, Stanley eventually had enough of the science talk. he let out a loud, suffering groan and declared, “that’s it, i’m getting out of here before i have to listen to one more goddamn sentence about anomalous worm lizards or whatever, Soos, Mabel, Dipper, we’re going fishing.”

so of course, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to take advantage of this moment! it was so rare that you got Ford all to yourself like this that the second the door closed behind Stan, you practically pounced on him.

you had Ford laid out beneath you, his wide back against the mattress, your hands braced on his scarred chest as you rode him like your life depended on it.

and god, you were hungry for it, so desperate. the morning had wound you up so tightly that by the time you finally got him beneath you and finally sank down onto his cock, it felt like release, but still nowhere near enough.

you bounced on him, panting and whimpering, rolling your hips, feeling sweat beading on your skin because it was still summer. and there's no fan strong enough to save either of you. it must be at least 90°F, around 32°C, but it feels even worse and hotter when you have sex. besides, you were the one putting in all the work as your Ford, your good boy, was lying there, being so good for you. looking up at you with little hearts in his eyes, huge hands gripping your waist, trying so hard not to buck up into you too soon because he was such a gentleman even during sex. he wasn’t controlling the pace, you were, and god, he was letting you use him like a toy, groaning so beautifully every time your pussy clenched around him.

yeah, you’d definitely need a cold shower after this, but right now you couldn’t care less. little did you know, though, the shower won’t just be for the sweat.

but that’s a problem for future you.

now, however, your legs start to give out first. despite the pleasure that’s still flooding you in blinding waves, your poor thighs are already trembling and the rhythm getting uneven as you desperately try to keep fucking yourself on him. Ford notices it, even flushed, messy, drowning in you, he watches you like you’re the fucking answer to every equation he's ever scribbled in his journals.

“easy, sweetheart,” he says gently, and then his arms are around you, flipping you over with no effort at all, manhandling you so tenderly. you barely get a second to breathe before he pushes in again from behind and your mouth falls open in a cry. that's deeper. so much deeper like this, and your whole body jolts forward with a ragged moan. “let me take care of you now.”

“Ford, fuck, Ford!” his name spills from you in a gasp just as he starts thrusting, making your toes curl, fingers claw at the sheets, and he just leans over you, grinding into you, murmuring against your ear.

“just like that, you’re doing so good for me,” he groans, kissing your shoulder, “so tight, just keep taking it, beautiful, you’re perfect like this.” Ford rolls his hips, filling you to the brim, keeping you pressed flat against the sheets with nothing to do but take it.

every time he thrusts in, you feel yourself get wetter, making it so easy for him to move and keep grinding into that soft, sensitive spot inside you until you’re crying out, clutching at the pillows. and that’s it. your body breaks as you cum again, shuddering under him as your body jerks with each deep thrust. Ford holds your hips in place while the sheets muffle your screams. he knows your body, god, he knows exactly how to hit those aching spots and how to angle just right, how to drag every last sob and tremble from you until you’re nothing but a pathetic overstimulated mess in his arms. and damn it, Ford loves you like that, clutching at the blankets, so fucked out and trembling, all because of him.

and still, it’s not enough for him. hasn’t been enough all week. you feel it in the way he doesn’t even stop to let you breathe, doesn’t even let you sink down into the afterglow. instead, Ford carefully pulls you onto your back, kissing your jaw and neck, and keeps going, pushing deep into your sore, overstimulated pussy like he’s possessed.

“Ford, s-sensitive, oh god—“

“cant stop,” he pants, hunched over you, sweat dripping down his temple, “just one more. i missed you so much, just let me, i missed you, i missed this,“ he’s so deep again, making your soft walls flutter again, stretched wide around him, and his back, oh fuck, your nails drag down his skin and leave bright red scratches over old scars, painting your love right into his skin as you cry out beneath him.

“so beautiful, darling, so good for me. love you so much, l-love you, mhmm.” Ford's words make you ache in a way you can’t describe and your whole body feel like warm honey, melting under his touch. you pull him closer, wrap your arms around his neck, bury your face against his shoulder as he keeps pounding into you, making love to you like he means it, practically crushing you with his weight.

your thighs tighten where they frame his waist and you're literally clinging to him. his cock slides over your sensitive walls and you still feel so tight, despite how well he worked you open with his fingers before this and the slick mess between your legs. you're drenched, and he knows it by the way his cock nudges inside you so smoothly as you gasp each time he presses flush against your cervix.

“mmh, i love you so damn much, you feel so good, holy moses, taking me so well.” Ford's voice is husky as he kisses you between words, pressing his mouth against your temple, your cheek, your lips and sweet heavens, you’re drowning in it, in him, in the way he praises you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him. and you know you are, because nobody’s ever looked at you the way Ford does.

”fuck, baby—“ you sob, clinging to his shoulders once he finally slows down just enough for your mind to stop spinning. “you looked so fucking hot this morning,” you whimper, biting your lip, “i wanted you, wanted you so bad, you looked so fucking good today, i couldn’t stop staring—“

Ford’s smile is all soft, even as his cock still pulses inside you. “you should’ve told me, gorgeous, m-maybe we’d have done something about it sooner.”

“i couldn’t, there were people, you know we can't when everyone's at home.”

Ford kisses you and whispers against your mouth, continuing moving inside you. “now you can, love, now it’s just us, be as loud as you want, please. . . but so?” he asks again, “tell me, was it the shirt? or the forearms?”

“shut up—shut up—”

“no, no, i’m serious,” he chuckles breathlessly, slightly changing the angle, “you’re adorable when you’re flustered. i wanted you too,” Ford says suddenly, a little softer. “it was horrible not being able to touch you all week. i kept thinking about you, sweet—“

you interrupt him by kissing him for that, you just have to because you can never get enough of his lips. you drag him down into a kiss and breathe him in like you’ll die without it. and Ford groans right into your mouth, he’s louder this time, letting out sharp grunts and drawn-out moans, that gorgeous fucking voice of his breaking with each thrust. you love it. god, you love when he’s vocal, when he lets go and stops trying to hold himself back, when you can hear how good you make him feel and how much he's enjoying this too.

then, Ford's rhythm gets rougher as he straightens his back, holding himself up as he growls out, “sweetheart, can i go rougher?”

you gasp, nodding fast. “Ford, we talked about this, y-you don’t have to ask, just take what you need, please”

“thank you, my love, thank you, you don’t know how much i needed that.” his voice breaks on it, so full of need it makes your pussy throb.

he grabs your waist, lifts you off the bed slightly, holding you there suspended in the air as he slams into your soaked fluttering pussy again and again. and your cunt takes it like she was made for him, squelching wet and hot around his cock as he uses you like a fucking fleshlight, fast enough the bed is creaking beneath you, the headboard knocking.

“Ford— oh, god!” your head tilts back, pleasure spiking, spreading through your whole body. you love this. you love him when he’s this desperate and rough, that means he needed you really damn bad. “yes! oh, my god, yes!” you arch your back automatically, body tensing as he buries himself to the hilt, his cock brushing your cervix over and over, making your thighs spasm and your toes curl. tears suddenly stinging your eyes.

but Ford keeps pounding into you, determined to bring you to your third orgasm now, and it’s all too much, making your clit throb. your brows knit together in that desperate needy expression he lives for, pretty lips parted, chin wet from drool, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears.

“mine, you're mine,” you hear Ford through your own screams and just nod eagerly.

you swear, nothing feels better than Ford's thick cock stretching you like that, fucking into you like crazy, building the sweetest pressure in your gut. filthy sounds echoing off the walls of the room and god, you’re such a mess, sobbing, literally sobbing, with tears leaking down your temples. eyes glossy and unfocused, every inch of your body betrays you, twitching and fluttering around him like you were made to be filled like this.

“so wet for me,” he grits out, “god, listen to you, soaking me.”

you can’t even answer because you’re just moaning as he keeps thrusting roughly and deep into you like you’re just a toy in his hands. his toy. your hands scrabble helplessly at the sheets as your body climbs toward another high.

oh, you think, dazed, this is actually filthy.

you’re wet, too wet. not that it’s ever an issue with Ford because he gets you soaked, dripping and ruined just from his voice alone everyday. the sounds in the room are straight-up filthy, like something out of a fucking porn. slick, lewd noises every time he thrusts in, your cunt welcoming him, spreading your arousal everywhere.

the sheets beneath you are absolutely ruined and your thighs feel sticky and messy.

Ford has to feel it too, how effortlessly he slides in and out, how fucking easy your wet pussy swallows him every time. and he doesn’t stop. your head’s a haze of pleasure, but somewhere, deep in the rational part of your mind, a little warning bell rings and you hate it.

okay, let's think then. you’re wet, and that’s good, but something feels weirdly weird. you feel you're leaking like a damn waterfall, it gets too warm down there too. your moans taper off slightly, not enough for Ford to notice yet, but you’re thinking too much now, caught in a spiral of why is it so much and why does it feel different. your period is one week late. couldn’t be, right? right. . .

just in that moment Ford slides out and you almost yelp from the loss, but he presses the thick head of his cock against your aching clit, rubbing slow, teasing you like he knows you love. you barely suppress a whimper, melting in this feeling, but before he can push back in you open your eyes and whisper.

“Ford, stop.” you feel your stomach twist with nausea before you even look down.

but that makes him freeze immediately. “what? what happened? did i hurt you?” his voice sounds hoarse from all the moans and groans, but concerned still. he sits back on his heels, wide-eyed, hands hovering over your hips.

ignoring his questions and gathering your strength, you look down and there it is.

blood. a lot of it. smeared on his cock, slick on your inner thighs, staining the sheets beneath you.

“oh my god,“ you gasp. no. no, no, no, no. you’re about to fucking die.

Ford follows your gaze, sees the red, and panics. “holy multiverse! are you okay?? did i— was i too rough? fuck, sweetheart, i’m so sorry,“ he looks like he’s about to pass out from guilt, already reaching for you, checking you over like you’re injured.

“no, Ford, it’s not that, i—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, heat crawling up your face. embarrassment punches through you like a fucking bullet. your throat tightens and you barely get the next words out of yourself. “it’s, uh, my period.”

yeah, your period that just ambushed you, right in the middle of the most intense sex you've had in a month, and of course, it would happen now. during the one time you feel gorgeous, needed, good, loved and craved by your man.

silence. fucking silence. your worst fear is coming true now. you can’t even look at him. your hands tremble as you try to close your legs to hide yourself from this fucking shame, but Stanford who's still between them, doesn’t budge.

you’re bracing for it. for disgust, for Ford to pull away, wrinkle his nose and be mad or scold you or run to the shower or something—

“oh. well, that makes sense.”

your eyes snap open. “. . .what?”

Ford’s face softens. “considering the amount of blood that comes out during your period, i'd guess your cycle kicked in just as your uterus was having those strong contractions during climax. its. . . fascinating, really. i mean, maybe the orgasm actually triggered the bleeding? what do you think?“

“Ford, let’s NOT.”

he pauses and smiles. “oh. right. sorry, sorry.”

you exhale shakily, rubbing at your face. “god, this is so embarrassing.”

“why?” Ford frowns.

“why?? Ford, i literally just ruined everything. i got you all dirty and the sheets and— fuck, im so sorry! this is disgusting—“

through all your panicked monologue, you dont even notice Ford looking at you like wants to eat you alive.

your body is still sensitive, but the shame sits heavier than the pleasure now. you don’t even want to look at him. god, you were just bouncing on his cock, losing your mind on him, moaning into the mattress like a fucking animal and now you’re bleeding? how humiliating.

“anyways, this is—“

“not a big deal,” Ford finishes for you. “you're overthinking.”

you glare at him. “of course i'm overthinking, Ford. i just ruined—“

”ruined? is that what you think you did?”

“well, yeah, obviously.”

“sweetheart,” he moves closer, “why do you think that?”

“b-because sex is over now?” you flail an arm vaguely at the mess beneath you. ”we can't just—“

“sex is over?” he interrupts again, tilting his head, genuinely perplexed. because truly, he doesn’t understand the concept.

“uh. yeah. i mean, obviously? normal men wouldn’t want to keep going after.“

Ford’s expression tightens. “‘normal men’? darling, if you wanted a normal man, you wouldn’t be with a virgin who hops dimensions and gets annoyed by bad grammar.”

you stare, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from sheer humiliation. “so, you’re not mad you mean? or disgusted?”

“honey, there's nothing in your body that could make me mad or disgusted.” Ford huffs, wiping a smudge of blood off your thigh like it’s nothing but a wine spill.

and you want to believe him, you do, but god, your thoughts are spiraling again. he didn’t even get to finish, because you ruined everything. sheets soaked, mood killed, you were so close and now it’s all gone. and all of that is because of you.

“i still ruined it.” you admit and hate how ashamed you sound. “it was so good and now it’s just—“

“but darling,” Ford cuts in. he leans down, kisses your hipbone, tongue brushing so hot and tender it makes you twitch. “who said anything was ruined?”

“i mean, we can’t exactly keep going.”

“but why? who says i was ever going to stop?”

and it hits you. he hasn’t even finished. not once, he’d been so deep in you, feeling your pussy gripping him like a fucking vice that he didn’t even bother to chase his own orgasm.

you gape. “wait. you’re still—“

“hard?” he chuckles. “yes. painfully.”

“and you’re not mad?” you ask the same thing again, confused.

Ford kisses the inside of your knee. “the only thing i’m mad about is that i didn’t get to make you cum with my mouth first. you think I could be satisfied knowing I haven't tasted you yet?”

“wait, wait, wait, im—“ you start to panic when you realize what Ford is hinting at.

but it's too late because he's already gripping your thighs and spreading you open.

“you know we don't have to—“

”yes, we do,” he murmurs, “yes, we absolutely do.”

honestly, if you think Ford’s gonna let a little blood stop him from eating the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, sweetheart. . .please, you clearly don’t know how fucked in the head this man is for you.

because after a week of not having your body beneath him, this is nothing.

“but—“

“sweetheart, ive been waiting a week. a week. let me take care of you.”

god. this man, fuck. you want to be mad. really, you do. you want to groan, roll your eyes, throw a pillow at him for ruining your chance to bury your shame in silence. but the worst part is that he’s smiling in that awful, devastatingly gentle smile.

and oh fuck, you cry out, trying to twist away because you dont want to make him uncomfortable or anything, but Ford's strong arms are caging you in. “i love this pussy. love how wet you get for me. i don’t care if you’re bleeding, i care that you’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

“you’re insane,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“for you?” Ford grins against your skin, “absolutely.” and then he’s already lowering, teasing at your folds, unbothered by the mess, more turned on by your shuddering and beautiful whimpers. your blood is barely noticeable compared to the way you leak for him, messy and dripping still, your clit so swollen and sensitive, you jerk as soon as he touches it.

Ford's tongue slides against you like velvet, then circles, and flattens.

fuck, he’s good.

he groans when you grind into his mouth, and the sound rumbles right through your gut. your hips buck, and he holds you firm.

shit. you should’ve never taught him. you should’ve kept the knowledge to yourself, never guided his eager mouth and shown him the way your body sang under just the right pressure, never taken his trembling fingers in yours and said “no, baby, slower, feel how sensitive i am here?”

because now, Ford is using it against you.

he starts slow, tracing that familiar path from the crease of your thigh up to your clit, breathing you in like it’s a drug he’s been deprived of.

you want to scream, cry and curl up into nothing and vanish forever, but Ford is licking right over the spot that makes your legs kick, and you swear he smiles when you do. because he knows your body. knows your pulse, rhythm and your shame and he’s pulling it apart with every flick of his fucking tongue.

“so sensitive already,” his breath ghosting over your drenched folds. “you really thought we were done?”

you don’t even know what he’s doing anymore, only that it’s working. it’s so working. too well, in fact, because you’re not even thinking straight, brain full of static and white noise and the obscene sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like he’s making up for every lost second of the week you went without.

and he has improved. god, he’s weaponized everything you taught him. the way you showed him to suck your clit gently, not too much, just a little pressure like he’s savoring it. . . yeah. he remembers. that damn freak

each groan against your clit is like a vibration in your bones, each sigh filled with hunger and fucking adoration, because you gave this to him. you taught him this. you trusted him to touch you, to taste you, so now you pay for this. your pussy’s so sensitive, sore from earlier, still fluttering and tender, but he doesn’t stop.

“F—Ford, please—“ you don’t even know what you’re begging for. mercy? more? less? it all blends together. hearing your weak voice, Ford smirks against your pussy and then moans as if the taste of your blood and arousal is some forbidden elixir that gets him drunk on you. “s’too good,” you cry out. “how are you this good now? you damn nerd, oh my god—“

you can't finish your sentence because he flattens his tongue and licks again, so slow, making a long drag from your entrance up to your clit that makes your hips jerk and your hands fist the sheets.

and fuck, fuck, he remembers this too, how you explained him how to circle his tongue just beneath the clit too, where your nerves are raw and sensitive, and now he’s there, swirling soft, teasing spirals that make you shudder down to the bone.

and then he sucks your clit deep into his mouth again, groans, sending vibrations through your entire pelvis, making your back arch and your legs twitch around his head.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” Ford's voice all fucked-up and hungry, and god he sounds ruined, “give it to me.”

his thick fingers slide in without resistance, two of them, slow and fucking perfectly angled, crooking just right, the pads of them brushing over your sweetest sensitive spot in lazy pulses. he’s stroking you like he’s trying to coax something out, and you’re so soaked that the sounds are filthy, wet and too obscene.

you whimper, trying to close your legs but his wide shoulders are there, unyielding, pinning you open.

Ford kisses your clit like he’s in love with it, and you feel your orgasm coming like a storm on the horizon, making your thighs shake violently around his head.

but what kills you is knowing that this is your fault because you made him this good. you trained him. shaped him. built him into this monster of a man who eats you out like you’re the center of the universe.

and now he’s fucking feral with it

you cry out, too breathless, feeling your cunt pulsing around his fingers now that he added third one, your clit is so swollen under his mouth. “you’re so perfect,” Ford pants, grinding his mouth into you, his fingers pumping harder now, “god, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? let me have it, sweetheart, give me that pretty orgasm.”

holy shit, you cum so fucking hard your body locks up, hips lifting off the bed, thighs clamping around his head, but that doesn't stop him. not even when you sob and beg, not even when your clit twitches and your hands shake, he’s still licking through it, swallowing you down. your pussy squeezes his fingers and leaks, your whole body folds inward.

but Ford holds you through it, tongue slowing to soft kisses, his fingers gently easing out.

“that’s my girl,” he breathes, smiling silly, chin wet with you.

“never knew you were such a freak, Ford,” you breathe, giggling through your tears, your fingers tightening in his silver hair. “i created a monster.”

Ford looks up, brown eyes glassy. “darling, didn’t you read my journals?”

you laugh breathlessly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but then it falters because your gaze flicks down to the blood. the mess. the ruined sheets and the guilt curling hot and tight in your chest.

“do you still love me?” you ask, unexpectedly even for yourself. “after all this. . . i ruined the bed and—“

Ford's heart breaks at that. he’s kissing your thighs before you can even blink, holding your hips like you’re something fragile. “hey. hey. look at me, sweetheart. you didn’t ruin a thing. you gave me you. and i’ve never wanted anything more. blood, tears, whatever. . . you think any of that changes how much i love you?”

you don't even notice how quickly a smile creeps onto your tear-stained face.

“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever touched, and i’d ruin a thousand sheets for just one more taste of you.” and that’s what love sounds like in Ford’s voice.

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #x reader #ford pines x reader #gravity falls smut #stanford pines #ford pines smut #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #ford pines x you #stanford pines headcanons #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #gravity falls fanfiction #grunkle ford

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eeunoia · 9 months ago

Text

ENHYPEN Imagines

mafia boss | lhs.

synopsis: mafia boss heeseung pursuing you.

pairings: lee heeseung x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: mentions of bullying, people being mean to reader, mafia heeseung.

note: i think this was requested, here you go! hehe i’m slowly releasing my drafts so bare with me lmao. also i’ve been very busy lately since there will be a big change in my life (i’m not getting married). anyway, reblogs and replies are highly encouraged as it helps me boost my posts and inspire me to write more. have a nice day and ily. stay safe everyone!

Being courted by the heir of Lee clan is pretty crazy. Having him all smitten by you is even crazier. It still doesn’t seem real. You’ve always think he was way out of your league, but he never made you feel like that.

Although, there are times where he flaunt his wealth sometimes that makes you realize how different you two are. It was unintentional, you can see that he’s just really want to make you feel how much he adores you.

“Wait, Heeseung.” you halt your steps and since the tall gorgeous boy is holding your hand, he stops as well.

He glances over his shoulder with eyebrows raised, confusion and slight worry flashes through his face.

“The mall seems close. We should just go.”

When driving over the parking lot a while ago, you already noticed how the famous mall seems so empty. The lights from inside is open, it’s well lit as usual but oddly, the parking space is empty. It was really weird as it was never like this. Since its located pretty much at the center of the city, its a hot place for mall goers.

He stares at you for a while before he then glances at the mall. Realization occurs him afterwards as he smiled, tightening his hold to your hand.

“Oh, yeah. I rented the whole place.” he casually said that made your jaw drop slightly.

He started pulling you again to guide you towards the entrance, but after regaining your senses you halted.

“What?” the astonishment lingers hardly on your tone. He furrowed his brows, wondering what is it this time.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I rented the whole place to ourselves.” he shrugs his shoulders then you can feel his thumb caressing your hand softly.

“Why?”

Being the youngest and used to getting things instantly, Heeseung’s feeling a little impatient with the way you’ve been delaying your agenda for tonight. He’s been wanting to do this for days and now, he couldn’t wait.

“You said you hate it when there’s a lot of people whenever you shop.” he smiles softly, “So I rented this.” he glances at the mall behind him.

Your lips pursed while staring at him, gaze softens. Nobody ever put so much effort for you, and now that you’re experiencing it from someone you least expect to do it leaves you speechless.

He’s been doing these things for you ever since the day he told you he likes you. He never fails to amaze you and take you by surprise. Lee Heeseung surely has a lot of tricks under his sleeves.

But apart from wealth and good looks, you discovered a lot of new things with Heeseung. The fact that behind his very intimidating aura, is a child wanting to be taken care of. He loves cuddle so much, always wants to feel you through his skin. He’s very clingy.

“Hey,” he gulps and leans downwards to slightly match your height. “too much?” he worriedly utters under his breath.

Heeseung wants to try his best to make you feel his sincere love and affection towards you, but he also doesn’t want it to be overwhelming.

“N-No,” you finally aswered and smiles despite the tears brimming your eyes.

“I’m just really thankful.”

He smiles and kisses you on your forehead before guiding you inside again. The stores on the whole first floor seems to be vacant. Lights were open, but there’s nobody there. The two of you headed straight to the second floor. Lines of branded clothes greeted you.

You rarely shops here since its super expensive, but Heeseung wants nothing but the best for his girl.

“Welcome, Mr. Lee.” the staffs bows their head as he walks inside this popular brand. He has his hand on your waist.

“Help her find clothes.” he stated.

“How many pairs, Sir?”

Heeseung eyes the girl with cold look. “As many as she wants.”

He teared his gaze off of her then glances back at you. The familiar soft look is back and he smiles, taking your hand over his lips.

“Just pick whatever you like, okay? I’ll take care of everything.” he smiled assuredly.

“B-But,”

“No buts.” and the way he looks at you indicates that he will surely not accept no from you.

Since you’ve been all alone your entire life, there’s nobody for you to lean on or share life problems. You’ve been independent your whole life and so you’re still not used having him taking care of you like this.

He walks towards this white elegant couch, “I’ll be waiting here patiently so take all your time, baby.”

Even before you can say anything else, a girl wearing a uniform escorted you towards the pile of expensive clothes.

That’s where it all started. The luxury kind of living you’ve only daydream about. Heeseung became very consistent of it that it triggers something inside you. Sometimes, you overthink and get scared of him suddenly stopping. He just constantly assures you that it will never happen.

“Y/n, let the boys take care of that! Why are you carrying heavy things?!” your manager suddenly steps in and stops you from what you’re doing.

You gave her a confused look as she calls some of the staffs to do it instead. You’ve been doing that before Lee Heeseung even happen and now she’s all worried that you’re carrying those boxes?

Lee Heeseung sure made your life way easier.

“It's fine, I can totally do this. Its my job.” you tried stopping her, but she glances and continuously shakes her head in disapproval.

“What?! No!” you can almost see the fear forming her eyes when you said those words. Not fear of tiring or overworking you, but fear of making you feel upset and getting on heeseung’s bad side.

“Can you believe her? She use to scold you so much for not moving those boxes right away.” your friend stood beside you, watching as the scene unfolds.

You let out a sigh, “Yeah.”

She glanced at you and scoffed, “Well I can’t really blame her. Who wants to mess with Lee Heeseung?” and she shrugs her shoulder before walking away.

You stood still and let yourself be drowned in your own thoughts. She’s definitely right. But you can’t really relate to their fear as you know damn well that the mafia they’re scared with? Is whipped for you.

Later that night you went home and showered to go straight to bed. Surprisingly, despite the same hours of shift, you aren’t that tired. You barely did the heavy works.

The bed that Lee Heeseung provided sure is pretty comfortable, it pulls you into dreamland right away. But in the middle of the night, you’re awoken by the continuous doorbell from your door.

Your eyes pries open, a little annoyed to be disturbed in a very inconvenient hour. The clock beside your bed flashes the numbers 5:03 am. It made you curse lightly as you push yourself up to go get the freaking door.

With your hair still a little disheveled and only wearing a tank top and sweatpants, you stride your dark hallway.

You didn’t even bother to check who it was and just burst the door open, ready to smack out of whoever it is that interrupted your sleep.

“Baby.” his husky low voice completely pulls you out of trance.

The annoyed look on your face vanishes into thin air and got replaced with confused expression. Lee Heeseung is standing in front of you, wearing a white longsleeves and slacks. Seems like he just got out from a meeting or something.

“Hee?” you managed to utter using your hoarse voice. He kept his icy stares on you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why did you open the door without checking who it was? Are you always this reckless?” he hissed. You couldn’t take it seriously at the moment as you’re still astonished that he’s right here in front of you when he’s suppose to be still in another country.

“What are you doing here?” you repeated yourself.

He steps forward and kisses you on your forehead, a bit hard since he’s a little pissed by the fact that you’re being careless. He’s already thinking of sending 24 hours security guards right in front of your unit.

He sighs then reached over you, resting his hand on both of your hips.

“Let’s go.” he said that only added to your confusion.

He hold your hand, tugging it to guide you outside. Some of his men were already there, waiting. One of them secures the door as Heeseung continued pulling you somewhere.

“Heeseung!” you hissed and tries to stop him, but it was no use. Your built are no match on his.

“Aren’t you suppose to be in a business meeting outside the country?”

“Yes.” he answered, still not stopping and sparing you a glance.

Your brows furrowed, “Did you went straight here from your flight?” as you rack your eyes down to his outfit.

“Uh-huh.” he shortly replied, tightening his grip on your hand. It does not hurt so much, felt so warm tho.

“Where are you even taking me?” and tries not to stumble on your own feet. Your eyes dropped at your house slippers, pouting that it caught all the outside dirt thanks to him.

“We’re going to have some breakfast.” he smiles and opens the door to his car.

“I’m on my pajamas.” you informed him like he couldn’t see it himself.

He trailed his eyes from your head to toe.

“You still look beautiful.” he sincerely stated that awed you slightly.

How come he can still say that when you have no make up on and looking like a rug? He’s definitely something.

He gently pushes you to go inside and his last comment just poisoned your whole system that you didn’t even fight back. He successfully put your seatbelt before closing the door to walk around the vehicle.

“You can sleep more, baby. I’ll wake you up once we’re there.” he says while starting the car, the roaring sound its engine is too familiar for you already.

You rolled your eyes and made yourself comfortable, “You ruined my sleep.” you jokingly said.

He chuckles then effortlessly reaches for a blanket somewhere from the back to warm you up.

Since you’re still a little sleepy, you did drifted to sleep pretty easily. Which you regret sooner since the moment you open your eyes, you’re in a different seat.

“Why are we in a plane?” was your first question, slightly panicking.

Heeseung’s sat beside you.

“We’re having breakfast.”

You shoot him with a bashful look, “On a plane?” a private one, to be specific.

He chuckles, finding you adorable.

“No, silly. We’re going to Paris.”

To say that your eyes bulged out is an understatement.

“Paris?! Why?!” you exclaimed.

Heeseung has the audacity to look surprised by your reaction when he’s the one who took you from your unit then take you to a flight to Paris. And he said you’re having breakfast? In Paris?!

“Yeah,” he shrugs his shoulders. “you said you want to eat croissant.”

Your mouth gaps, couldn’t believe the man beside you. The fact that he looked so innocent while saying that as well is even more staggering for you.

“From the shop a few blocks away from my workplace!”

His eyes then softens then he blinks multiple times, finally realizing it.

“Oh...” he says.

You’re out of words and you two are occupied by silence for a while. This is totally unexpected. But what do you even expect? This is Lee Heeseung for god’s sake! He’s a man full of surprises, sometimes even unplanned.

You let out a sigh then looks out of the window, appreciating the beautiful blue skies decorated by white soft clouds.

“I can’t believe I’ll be in Paris for the first time wearing sweatpants.” you mumbled softly, like it was the biggest problem you have at the moment.

Heeseung reaches for your hand and kissed it, “We’ll just shop for a dress once we get there. Sounds better?”

You craned your neck to face him and stares deeply to his beautiful eyes. A small smile finally spreads across your face before you reached over his cheeks to caress it.

“Thank you so much.” and then you leans in to kiss him on his lips that caught him in utter shock.

“I can’t believe you agreed on coming in the first place! Those people were so mean to you!” she exclaimed as she watches how you’re scurrying to prepare for this dinner.

You looked at her through the mirror. She looks so stressed out while watching you put some make up on. Her eyes then trailed at your expensive dress— bought by Heeseung of course.

She inwardly smiles, you looked beautiful. Well, you always are. She sighs and got worried once again. She knew how bad those people treated you back in high-school so she can’t be at ease knowing you’ll be dining with them tonight.

“It will be alright, (friend name).” and gave her an assuring smile.

But at the back of your mind, you’re actually very worried as well. Scared of what may happen tonight. You convinced yourself that nothing will change unless you face those people who bullied you before. They will keep on torturing and hurting a part of you, thinking that they still have the upperhand on you.

For the first time, you wanted to stand up for yourself.

“And I can’t believe you’re going to that reunion without Heeseung. They’re probably bringing their partners to brag. You should too!”

“He’s probably busy.”

She snorted, “I bet my whole life savings, he will ditch whatever he’s doing just to go with you! That man is down bad for you.”

You chuckled with a blush on your cheeks, totally flustered about it. “You don’t even have savings, (friend name).”

She rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to slap me with reality!”

“Just take Heeseung with you please? That way, I'll be more at ease.” she says in a very worried tone.

“(friend name), I can’t.” you sighs. She’s probably insisting this even more after knowing how you felt for the man.

“I genuinely love him and I don’t want him to get the impression that I’m using him.” you explained. Her eyes softens as her shoulder lowered in surrender.

“Fine, that sounds disgusting by the way!” she jokingly hissed at you then asked you to hurry up.

“Make sure to call me if something happens, okay?” she reminds you again when she drops you off at the said restaurant.

You chuckled at her, “Yes, Mom.” you answered sarcastically.

She shoot you glares. “I mean it, y/n.” she said.

You nodded, smiling warmly at her. She nods then waves after wishing you a great night. Your eyes follows her driving car and as it slowly disappear on your sight, your smile fell. Now that she’s not there to comfort you, uneasiness occupies you.

“You can do this, Y/n!” you cheered to yourself before deciding to walk inside.

It is a fine dining and you’re very thankful that Heeseung had bought you these kind of dresses. It fits the vibe so well.

“Reservation, miss?” the girl by the front desk greets you with a smile.

You nodded then returned the smile, lips shaking a little. After she checked which private room your ‘friends’ are, one of the staffs guided you to the room.

It was pretty loud when you arrived. Some greeted you, some can’t recognize you at all. Its been a while after-all.

“Y/n?” one of the girls who used to torment you before stood up from her seat and walks towards you.

Heads whipped to look on your direction, instantly making you uncomfortable. One of her brows raised as she scanned you with so much judgment.

“Nice dress,” a grin forms her red lips. “where did you rent it?” she added with so much sarcasm that made a lot of the people inside laugh.

Your heart cracks while watching them make fun of you. Just like old times. You nibble on your lower lip, smile long gone from your face. Fist balls beside you, air felt like it got stuck on your throat.

“Just joking!” she exclaims, still with that evil grin. Your eyes stares at hers and you know exactly she didn’t say that as a joke.

Her hand grabbed your arm then dragged you towards a table. You tried to halt her, already foreseeing what’s about to happen. But just like before, your mouth kept shut. You felt pathetic. You went here with a mindset that you will show them that you won’t let them make fun of you anymore and yet, here you are... still helpless.

“Guys, its y/n!” she says and forced you to sit down. You didn’t have any chance to resist as everyone on that table gave you their full attention.

Their faces aren’t friendly, same old gazes that pierced right through your soul. You feel sick on the stomach.

“How’s life y/n? Still working on that restaurant?” (name) asks taunting. She’s the most popular girl on your batch and also the meanest one.

She looked pretty and elegant with her branded dress. Her family is kind of well off, mainly why she got away from bullying you throughout high-school. It was always easy for her. Life is always on her favor.

“Gosh! That’s so embarrassing.” the other commented, she’s the one who forced you to sit at this table.

All of them laughed and agrees. You unconsciously roamed your eyes around everyone seated and it caught on Sander. (name) is sat beside him, probably chasing after him like old times. She’s always been head over heels for him.

He’s the most popular guy on your batch and often paired with (name). He has this small smirk on his lips while everyone laughs at you. It was horrible. You didn’t actually had a serious feelings for him, but it was given that almost every girl slightly had a crush on him. He was that hit back then.

You felt small while fidgeting your fingers under the table. Just by looking at them, you realized how it was before. How they used to bully you back in high-school, belittling you for being poor. You hated it. You hated them. You still do.

The mean things they’re saying is too much so you stood up, making all of them look at your way. (Name), cocks her brows and smirks.

“I-I’ll just go to the bathroom.” and you turned around, ready to leave when you suddenly bumped into something—more like someone.

“Going somewhere, baby?” a familiar husky voice asks.

You’re too immersed to how (name) humiliates you that you failed to notice how the other tables grew quiet at the arrival of someone that doesn’t belong there.

The table you’re in slowly grow silent as well, noticing the tall man right in front of you. His toned arms now snaking over your waist to tug you closer to him.

“Hey...” he softly calls when he noticed how stiffed you got. At a slow pace, you lifted your head to see Heeseung’s soft eyes watching you carefully.

He is really here. You felt your heart swells and finally you felt safe. Your hand rests at his chest, lips shakes because of too much emotion.

“L-Lee Heeseung?” one girl exclaims, totally astounded by his presence.

Some of the men on that table look thrilled as well. They knew him, everyone in this room does. They know his power and influence.

He didn’t spare that girl any glance and just focused on you. His jaw clenches after noticing how you’re shaken up. It didn’t took him long to put piece and piece together. He understands what’s happening right away.

He roamed his icy glares over to the people occupying your table. One by one, like as if trying to remember each and everyone of them. The look on their face instantly changes, some even looked pale.

“U-Uhm,” (name) looked really scared. You’ve never seen her this way. And you’re not gonna lie, its a pleasure to your eyes.

“Lee Heeseung, wow!” Kent, one of your batchmates. He’s not particularly mean to you before, but he does laugh from time to time.

And there’s this one time where he offers for you to date him and got mad when you refused. Saying that you’re just a nobody and how dumb you are for actually saying no to him.

“Nice to meet you, man! Come on, sit down first.” he offers enthusiastically and even pulled the chair beside yours.

Heeseung stood still and quiet. People easily got intimidated. He heaved a sigh and you know he’s about to start saying something, but you beat him to it.

“We’ll be g-going.” you announced lowly. You aren’t even sure if they heard. Some whipped their heads at you with a look of disbelief on their faces.

(name) stares at you with a confused and a bit annoyed look on her pretty face. And with all the courage left on you, you said, “My boyfriend and I will leave now.”

Heeseung got stoned on his position when he heard that. Thankfully, you grabbed him by his arm then dragged him out of there. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to do it. But since you definitely caught him off-guard, you managed to drag Lee Heeseung out of there.

You can feel everyone’s eyes darted at the two of you and the whole room remains quiet as you take your leave. That doesn’t matter. You just want to get out of that place.

“Wait,” he halts and instantly, you stopped too. He held your arm then yanked you back near his body.

“Hold on, baby.” he licks his lips then blinks multiple times. “Let’s talk.”

Thankfully, you’re already by the parking lot. A few people are around, but its better them than those people inside.

You noticed a few familiar vehicles of Heeseung’s men along with his expensive sports car that he often used whenever picking you up.

“I j-just want to get out of here, please.” your pleading and tear stained eyes broke Heeseung. He wanted so bad to ruin those people inside. Everyone who made fun and even the bystanders. He doesn’t care. He will make sure they will pay for making you cry. For making his baby upset.

His large hands cupped your cheeks, “We will.” he huffs, calming himself. “I just need to confirm something.”

You kept your stare right at him, waiting for what he’s going to ask. You already knew what it was and initially, you planned on telling it to him in a different situation.

But it was already clear as a daylight. You love Lee Heeseung and ever since he was around, he always made you feel so special. Like you aren’t just someone. That you actually have value and that you don’t just exist in this world... you have a place here.

“Baby, I’m your what again?” he asks, very eager to hear those words from you again.

His brain already short circuited the first time you said it and he highly doubts it wouldn’t happen on the second time. Specially now that you are alone with him.

“My boyfriend.” you answered confidently.

Heeseung heart races and he felt like fireworks bursted inside his chest. He’s undescribably happy about it. He blinked mutliple times.

“You didn’t say that to only escape that place, right?” he asks, a little nervous. It amused you. You never knew this mafia boy is even capable of having that kind of emotion.

You let out a sigh and held his arm, caressing it softly. Then you gave him this assuring smile.

“No. That’s why I didn’t even ask you to come here. I don’t want you to think that I’m just using you.”

His eyes softens even more, if that’s even possible. Heeseung just loves you so deeply that the thought of being used by you doesn’t even bothered him. It's fine, as long as you’ll want him beside you. He’ll take anything just to be close to you.

Then your loving gaze turns into a glare.

“What are you even doing here?” you ask like a cop interrogating a suspect.

He smirks, “I missed you so I asked somebody to check on you... it happens that you’re heading to this event.” he chuckles. “I thought I could pay you a visit just to check if some guys would try to hit on you.” and he even raised an eyebrow.

You scoffed then rolled your eyes, “As if! You’re the one who walked there looking like a snack! You probably caught the attention of the pretty girls at that table!”

His eyes sparkles, “Really?”

Your face turned sour then you gave him a bashful look.

“Did I really caught your attention?” he asks, sounding a bit excited.

You got confused then let out a big sigh when you realized he got it wrongly.

“Heeseung,” you uttered in a very serious tone that made him stand up straight, giving you his full attention.

You felt your heart thumped louder, feeling nervous now that he’s so focused on you.

“Unlike you, I have nothing special to offer you. I only got a high-school diploma and 20 dollars in my bank account.” you tried to make it sound a joke to ease the tension because he’s staring so intensely.

He kept silent for a while.

“Do you love me?” he suddenly asks that made you all flustered, cheeks and ears turning red.

You blinked then cleared your throat.

“I don’t see how is that relevant in this conversation—”

“Do you love me, Y/n?” he repeated himself, this time even more serious.

You gulpes nervously, getting drawn by his piercing beautiful eyes.

“Yes.” you answered confidently.

He sighs in contentment and smiles gently. His eyes glisten with so much happiness that it made you wonder why.

“Then that’s good enough for me.” he stated that melts your heart instantly.

He took a step closer, making your bodies touch. Cupping your face once again then rest his forehead on yours.

“I love you, Hee.” you suddenly said that made his heart leap in joy.

Heeseung is in trance. He never knew that he’s capable of feeling all these things towards one person. He has no regrets pursuing you. If anything, he’s very much willing to do it again and again.

“I love you even more, y/n.” he whispers then kisses your forehead, then your nose and then pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes.

“You just made me the happiest man alive.” and he leans in for the much awaited kiss.

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @ayayiiie @aeyeree @heeseung-min @in-somnias-world @psh-pjh @hveanlyanqelic @woocury

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vad-hander · 4 months ago

Text

I Love You More

pairing: Jaebeom x reader

others: Jinyoung, GOT7 members

genre: fluff

warnings: idol GOT7!au, married couple, pure softness, crying

Words: 1,1k

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short soft one-shot inspired by GOT7's concerts this weekend and them being so emotional and crying and saying a lot of things that tore my heart apart. Jaebeom will always hold a very special place in my heart and I was excited to write this! I haven't written for got7 in years, so let me know, if you're interested in more

alsooo, I've never posted anything this short, so let me know if you enjoy stuff like this and I should be doing more of it!

_____

You stood in the corner of the waiting room, your eyes trained on the only man that actually mattered in your life and as the teardrops streamed down his pretty face your heart squeezed in an attempt to pump blood into your head and steady out its beats. Your heart ached, but you held back from crying in this moment with him - if he’d see your tears you knew it’d be an undying contest of emotional breakdown and you didn’t want him to go through that. You loved him too much. He only ever deserved love, happiness and much easier life than he was living now.

Jackson patted Jaebeom’s head and the staffs that filled the room tried to continue with their duties, but also be mindful of 7 crying and sobbing men in the centre of that room. Your gaze shifted to sobbing Mark and the way teared up Youngjae and Bam tried to calm him down. At least this view wasn’t tearing your heart into pieces. As a figure approached you, though, you had to readjust your eyes and focus on the man in front of you. The very next moment Jinyoung’s very warm hand grabbed yours and pulled you behind him. He felt your resistance and turned around, reading your face expression perfectly.

"I think he really needs you to calm him down." Jinyoung pulled onto your arm once again and you followed. "Hey, Seunah" Jinyoung called out in an attempt to whisper, but making it more of a low growl. Jackson, raising his head and seeing Jinyoung pulling on to you took a step back. Giving you space to come closer and giving you two space for privacy. Jaebeom raised his head a little, as he felt the loss of contact and took a few blinks to focus his teary eyes on you. Both Jackson and Jinyoung respectfully took a few more steps back and as you approached Jaebeom a little more, you couldn’t hold back a pout. Jaebeom straightened his back properly and it seemed the tears streamed down his face at a much lower pace. You pursed your lips and took a little step closer, not forgetting precaution and turning around to read the room - everyone seemed busy with themselves and their duties. But in all honesty - you couldn’t just stand and watch him any longer, even if the people watched you two attentively - your heart ached the moment you saw that first tear fall down his face back on stage.

“You did so well-.“ You still whispered, everyone acted busy, but peoples’ ears were always perked up. Jaebeom blinked more tears down his face. Shit, you only made it worse for him. “Everything went so perfectly. You worked so hard. I’m so proud. These should be happy tears, everything worked out amazing. Right?“ you tried to give Jaebeom a smile, your words only made the tears fall down harder, while Park Jinyoung expected you to do the opposite. “Ah-, love, don’t cry.“ You finally sighed and reached a hand to his face, cupping his cheek and making a lame attempt at catching the teardrops - it did seem impossible. The waterfall that streamed down his face was impossible to stop with a finger. Jaebeom leaned in into your touch and closed his eyes. You tried to caress the softness of his cheek, while not making it too inappropriate for a working environment. “Everyone’s so proud and everyone are so thankful for the things you do. You’ve put so much hard work into this, it’s okay to cry. I can’t even hold back my tears for you and ah-.“ Jaebeom suddenly draped his arms over your shoulders and lost his face in the crook of your neck. You patted his nape in a very weak attempt to calm him down. He seemed crashed, drained and exhausted. You really wished you could lift him up just like that and transfer to bed and let him get as much sleep as he needed - doesn’t matter if its 12 hours or a week. You watched him work so hard all these weeks to make the concerts possible, you watched him all those years make all those things possible while also being a sweet and loving husband to you. “I just hope it’s tears of relief. As long as they’re not tears of pain - it doesn’t matter. We could cry all night long, right?“ You tried to give him a little kiss, forgetting all the work space boundaries in your head, landing your lips on his jaw. You patted his nape a few more times, moving your arms lower - you gave his waist a squeeze and rubbed your face against his shoulder - the sobbing man in your arms seemed to calm down at least a little.

“I love you.“ you breathed out, somehow in unison with Jaebeom and as shocked as you were at the silly little coincidence, Jaebeom moved back a little and looked at you properly, with no tears falling out of his eyes, beautiful irises focusing on you.

“That’s silly of us.“ You giggled, moving your fingers to dry out the tears on Jaebeom’s cheeks.

“But I, definitely love you more.“ He even made a weak attempt to smile and made you feel more at ease yourself. The air suddenly felt lighter and the second time he tried to make that little smile - the smugness on his face, your chest burned with love. Jaebeom covered your palm with his and moved it closer to his mouth. “I wouldn’t be here without your support.“ You knew exactly what he meant by that, how hard it was for both him and you to get his mind to a better place. You weren’t about to shy away and act like you weren’t behind it all. In a great partnership with the man himself, of course.

“I know.“ You accepted with a playful nod and watched his lips give your palm a kiss with a smile. You were glad you could refer to dark times with a joke and a smile now. Jaebeom let go of your arm and tried to dry his face with the shirt he wore.

“Ah!“ Jinyoung materialised behind you, his firm palm on your shoulder making you jump in place. “Nothing like a wife’s touch that could calm a man down.“ He teased happily, wrinkles round his eyes as he smiled were the reason for a little upward motion on the corners of your lips.

“Sh! Shut up, there are strangers in this room.“ you hissed at the man, feigning annoyance. Jinyoung ruffled your hair with a teasing face expression.

“Hey, show some respect.“ you played back, your unending battle of teasing continuing every time you opened your mouths.

“Right, show some respect to my wife!“ Jaebeom chimed in, regret on his face immediate, as the both of you knew the comeback would be explosive. Jaebeom wrapped an arm around your waist, you not being sure whether he was backing you up or wanted you to back him up in this.

Jinyoung, though, already moved on - looking at the members and then at his leader and giving you nod.

don't forget to like and follow for more <3

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