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starlitscars · 2 months ago

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Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state.

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life.

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him.

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now.

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for.

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva.

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you.

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt.

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubles thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer.

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road.

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap.

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth.

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share.

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..."

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you.

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world.

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time.

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that.

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more.

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly.

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons.

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sende it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings.

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He think that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #the last of us #joel miller smut #tommy miller #ellie miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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parfaitblogs · 3 months ago

Text

guess ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread! word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm!

You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.

In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping.

Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer.

Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course).

But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began.

Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already.

You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day.

Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently.

Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake.

"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there.

"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling.

"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs.

"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible.

"What's this?"

"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."

"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.

"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth.

He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it).

But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again.

He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it.

"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb.

But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you.

Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow.

"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet.

What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."

"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time.

"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"

You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers.

"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"

"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips.

"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.

"You wanna tell me the truth?"

Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."

"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features.

"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."

He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."

"Twice a week isn't a lot."

"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"

"If I say yes, will you?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh.

"Then yes," you breathed out.

"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"

"Yeah."

Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.

"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you.

He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips.

He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that).

"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."

"I am," you huffed in response.

"Really?"

In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him.

"Am I boring you already?"

"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him.

"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless.

Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you.

He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state.

"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit.

You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made.

Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.

He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly.

"Spencer."

He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.

A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew.

Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair.

You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue.

"Fuck, Spencer."

"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold.

"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.

"Please what?" he mused.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan.

"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans.

You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"

"Wanna come," you said.

"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly.

"You don't wanna ask me?"

"Do I need to?"

"Maybe you should start."

"Spencer."

He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."

Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars.

Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless.

Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer.

"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."

That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening.

He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin.

"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines.

"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing.

"Love you too."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut

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flowersforbucky · 4 months ago

Text

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina.

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact.

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying.

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns.

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again.

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows.

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.”

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone.

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself.

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall.

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good.

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face.

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing.

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?”

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway.

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.”

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off.

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.”

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?”

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps?

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse.

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other.

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step.

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help.

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight.

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island.

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.”

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–”

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.”

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin.

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.”

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth.

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled.

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress?

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen.

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically?

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message.

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away.

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear.

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you.

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit.

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page.

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..”

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–”

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face.

Oh. Not a joke, then.

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom.

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed.

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.”

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.”

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you.

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?”

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.”

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier.

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking.

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.”

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating.

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow.

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach.

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear.

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.”

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended.

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you.

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused.

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis.

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top.

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin.

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.”

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.”

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow.

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table.

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand.

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator.

“How the fuck did you–”

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?”

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on.

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both.

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit.

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator.

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back.

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy?

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction.

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face.

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.”

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts.

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth.

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much.

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly.

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties.

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed.

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle.

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs.

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you.

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you).

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears.

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic

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hairmetal666 · 6 months ago

Text

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #meet ugly #misunderstandings #feelings confession #mutual pining #idiots to lovers #hero eddie munson #damsel in distress steve harrington #steve thinks eddie is disgusted by him #meanwhile eddie is down bad crying at dnd #the kids try to do matchmaking and only max is successful #bookstore owners steve and robin #bartender eddie munson

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eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, I don't know If you take requests, but could you please right about the reaction and thoughts of the bat boys toward finding out their partner was pregnant? Please and thank you

A/N: I do take requests, love. And I've got you ❣️

Bat-boys find out you're pregnant🍼

Dick Grayson's first thought is worry. He doubts how he'll make it work; crimefighting, his job, then his relationship with you. And he'll wonder how Nightwing will interfere with his life, and how Bruce will react (he'll spoil the child endlessly).

Reassurance from Donna, Alfred, or Bruce will part his fog of worry and distance. He'll hit the ground running to rectify his isolation. I mean breaking the news to friends and family, arranging play dates with Roy and Lian.

"I'll be safer on patrol," he whispered," I promise, hun." You had broke down after so long of trying to remain calm. But seeing your lover return home with bruise after bruise would weigh anyone down. Especially one pregnant.

Dick's hand would always be on your belly, reminding himself that you both are safe and he's doing a great job. It's what he needs to hear, that he's making the city safer for you both.

He is 100% a handyman. Dick will build cribs, changing tables, repair toilets, fix creaky cabinets. And he'll baby proof the house." Don't worry, babe," he assured you." Just relax. It's just a clogged drain."

Jason Todd's first thought is if he'd be a good father, after everything he's been through and done. He even wonders if he deserves to be a father, or if he deserves a nameless grave. However, leaving is never and will never be an option for him. I truly think he'd be the most active out of the bat-boys.

Jason's love language has always been acts of service, and it would thrive during your pregnancy. Your house would be booby-trapped and SECURED. He'd teach you the basics of a gun, and he'd ensure your pregnancy cravings are stocked. Jason would also wash your back when your belly grew too large.

Jason would let you shop for baby and maternity clothes with his card. His only request is that you don't get the baby anything too vibrant because it's an eyesore. If anything, he'd prefer neutral tones or black on the baby.

The weather becomes his interest after the baby's birth." Do you think they need a jacket?" Is his favorite line." Don't you think it's a little hot for them to be wearing long sleeves," he'll wonder. Or the baby is swaddled and he'll question," do you think he's overheating? I'd be hot if that were me all wrapped up like that."

A child is the only thing to make him stand steadfast on his refusal to kill. Not Bruce, not Dick, not even you. Your child brought forth a new mindset, one of not wanting to see a killer reflecting in the innocent and chocolate eyes of his child (Jason's eyes are brown. Argue with a wall).

Tim Drake isn't as present as one would believe. His activity is inconsistent, and it's harder to reach him because he's usually working. But he wants you to sit with him, to bring the baby and let him play around in his office.

It warms his heart to return from a meeting and his baby is sprawled out on his pastel blue teddy bear blanket and cooing. You're dangling a rattle over him, and Tim would strut over and kiss you on the cheek." How's it going, love?" He'd ask and rub the baby's cheek." They being good?" His eyebrow would raise playfully.

The baby would be raised around Bruce and Alfred more than his actual parents. I also see Stephanie caring for the baby and even babysitting if you work or just need rest. Cass would swoon over it, so prepare for tons of peeled oranges and Cass making your bottles.

Alfred would surely read your baby literature. He'd be sitting in the library, baby on his lap while y'all rest, reading from a dusty and old book that's sure to ignite your allergies.

Damian would try his hardest to be a fun dad because he never got that. It's been well documented that he wouldn't dare put a child through his life. So I think the farthest he would go is teaching you enough to defeat the average Shadow/Assassin. But he would not want you killing.

I think he'd lean into Bruce's "No-Kill" mantra after having a child. If you even want to enter vigilantism; he'd understand if you choose not to. It's a thankless job; it's isolating and bruising.

But I think if the kid did continue training, that's when they'd truly bond. Damian and he/she would laugh and joke between rounds; he'd show them the best way to throw a punch, and he'd teach mercy. That's also when they'd meet the other side of their family---the Al Ghuls. But Damian would have strict stipulations on what they learn. No instant kill moves, no brainwashing, none of the narcissistic sentiments Talia filled his head with.

I also think you, Damian, and your kid would lead fairly healthy lives. Not overboard, but the occasional protein shake or morning run; maybe even a little weight lifting. Or if cardio is your speed, he'd install a home-treadmill or a pool.

Bruce Wayne's first thought would be his age. How he's climbing in age and his job usually doesn't lead to gold and sunsets. He'd be happy because he sees it as a second chance. His first two sons saw the angry and vengeful side of him, so that's how they grew up; Tim sought him, and Damian came stained with blood.

But with you and the baby, he could actually be a father. He could raise the baby from infancy and make bottles and hush cries, like he wanted to with Dick and Jason. He could show the baby his favorite movies and just talk to them, even though the baby would respond with drool and coos.

He wouldn't have to be alone anymore. Bruce would set his child on a straight path; the world has enough Bats and birds. They could just...be. They'd would carry on the Wayne name.

Bruce would spoil you and his baby rotten. He'd watch over the baby like a hawk; each cry, each coo, each babble would send Bruce into a fit of worry. He'd leap up from his seat and check the cradle, only to find a giggling baby with his feet in the air. Then he'd chuckle, which would make the baby giggle even more. " You got me, little one. You got me," he'd utter and return to the Bat-computer.

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entitled-fangirl · 19 days ago

Text

More wolf.

Cregan Stark x Bracken wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's Bracken wife is full of fire, and it warms his Northern heart. A misunderstanding comes between them, and the tension only grows.

Warnings: talks of death, sparring, attacking, breaking trust, talks of sex

A/n: God, I love this more than I love myself. This is one of my favorites.

Masterlist

.......................................

She didn't take his hand when she dismounted her horse.

She was too stubborn of a woman, Cregan often thought.

She was a Bracken, and Brackens were nothing if not stubborn as mules.

The war did nothing to bridge the gap. In fact, it made it only grow.

A Bracken married to the Wolf who fought for the Blacks.

It seemed ridiculous.

Now, married for a few months, nothing had changed.

Her feet hit the ground, and she smoothed out her dress. "Ready, Lord Husband?" She asked out of politeness and nothing more.

Cregan let out a soft sigh.

She was gorgeous, if only she wasn't so stubborn.

…

The brass woman confused Cregan more and more every day.

He stepped out into the courtyard at his usual time to spar, but paused.

She angrily swung her sword at the dummy, the sound of the fabric ripping filling the air.

He cursed under his breath at the sight of her legs now clad in pants. It awoken something in him.

"Good morrow, wife."

She turned, the tip of the sword falling to the ground as she looked at him. Sweat dripped from her forehead, her hair a mess around her face.

Gods, she was beautiful.

She tipped her head at him as she panted. "Good morrow, husband. Am- Am I in your way? I apologize. I usually train in the afternoon but I find this cooler morning weather quite lovely."

He hummed, trying to stay focused. "As do I. Hence why I spar then. Please, don't let me interrupt you."

"No," she insists as she brushes her forearm across her forehead. "A break will do me well. Perhaps I'll stop here."

She grabbed her things and began to walk away.

"How is it that I've not seen you training until now, wife? You've been here four months now." He hums, "Strange, don't you think?"

"Not in the slightest," she retorted over her shoulder. "Why would I want my husband to know of my swordsmanship?"

He watched her walk off, trying not to focus too closely on her ass.

…

While Cregan was frustrated at the war, he was no monster. So, he allowed Aeron Bracken, her brother, to write to her often. The only criterion was that Cregan had to read the letters back and forth when sent and received. He was to be the one to break the seal when received and the one to send hers off. It was a fair deal, honestly more than fair.

"His respect for me and my people stopped the moment I declared my army the Queen's. Even after our wedding," he grimaced. He threw the paper down onto the desk. "Has he always spoken of me this way?"

She shook her head. "I fear the war is beginning to drive him mad. He's an angry man, driven by whatever angers our father the most." She leaned back in her chair. "If it eases your mind at all, I often ignore those parts of his letters."

It did ease his mind to hear her small proclamation, no matter how slightly backhanded it seemed.

"How will you respond?"

She sighed and stood. "I won't."

His mouth opened, but by the time he thought of something to say, she was gone.

…

Cregan stayed in the courtyard the entire next day. He blamed it on his frustration and stress for the upcoming war but in all reality?

He was waiting for her to come train again.

Various men and servants came to him to try to beckon him indoors to deal with urgent matters, but he'd send them away, not wanting to leave for even a moment.

And eventually, she did show.

But only for a moment.

She stepped out and paused at the sight of Cregan there. She looked around in confusion and a slight bit of frustration, then stomped back indoors.

That cute fucking furrow in her brow had him beginning to think things a gentleman never would.

…

He decided to try again the next day, hoping that this time, he could catch her before she stomped off.

But Cregan underestimated the Bracken's intelligence, for she had peeked from various balconies throughout the day to view the courtyard. And seeing that he was still there, she ducked back indoors.

How infuriating.

…

That night, Cregan stretched from his chair in his solar. The workload was getting to him, especially when he had to complete it all in the night hours due to his daytime activities.

He brought his hands to his face, as if he could rub away the sleeping hormones that began to control his brain.

A distance sound made his head perk up.

He moved to his window, daring to peak out into the night.

In the courtyard stood his bride, lit only by torchlight, stabbing away at a sparring dummy.

He wanted to be angry. He really did. How foolish was this woman to be out alone like this?

But it filled him with pride more.

He found himself stepping away from the window and through the doorway, barely grabbing his cloak in time.

He stepped out into the cold air outdoors, smiling at the sight of his wife. "Bit dark for training, don't you think?"

It startled her enough that she dropped the heavy longsword, trying to ignore the sound of it hitting the ground. She spun around.

He expected her to laugh at that, or at least find joy in that fact that he noticed her presence out here. But no. She was infuriated.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

He took a step back in shock. "I don't know what you mean."

She huffed, placing a hand on her hip, the other in her hair to rub at her scalp. "Will you not let me have the night either? If this is too unladylike for you, Lord Stark, just say so." She kicked at her sword. "Fucking take it then."

Cregan held his hands up, trying to remain calm despite her outburst. "I meant no harm."

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't." She lets out a humorless laugh. "You only occupy the courtyard from dawn until dusk, knowing well that this is the one thing I have here."

Cregan's jaw fell a bit at that. "I hadn't thought of it that way. I only wished-"

"What?" She stepped up to him, though their height difference was much, the anger in her eyes made up for it. "What does the great Wolf of the North wish for?"

"To see you happy," he admits softly before he can stop himself.

Her brows come together, the same look that makes Cregan have to shift his weight to his other leg.

"I'll go, wife. And I won't bother you again out here. That I swear."

The tension between the two was at a peak as they stared at one another.

He studied her as if it was the last time, and turned to walk back indoors.

"Cregan."

He immediately paused in his step, not even looking back at her.

Her voice was soft, something he'd not heard before. "If you want- I'd like a sparring partner."

His face lit up in a bright grin, but he wouldn't dare let her see it. "I'll be there."

And he stepped inside.

…

The next day, Cregan spent outdoors.

And when she appeared, he was beyond gleeful.

"How good exactly are you, Cregan Stark?" She asked as she reached for her sword.

Was that a tease?

He leaned over her back to grab his own, taking the opportunity to speak into her ear. "Very."

She tried to ignore the shiver that moved down her spine at the northman's husky voice.

She'd taken on larger opponents, but she feared that he was perhaps the best.

Aeron was good, but he was no Cregan Stark.

"Ready to weep for my mercy?" She further teased when they got into formation.

A genuine laugh came from him as he spun Ice in his hand. "I don't think I'll have to worry about that, my lady."

"You're no Aegon the Conqueror," she jabbed.

He took initiative, stepping forward and swinging the large blade through the air.

She blocked it easily enough, the sound of the metal scrapping filling their ears.

He pushed his blade against hers, trying to get the advantage. "I believe I'm more of a Maegor myself."

"More of a Torrhen."

They pulled away from one another, and Cregan's blade dropped a bit. "You mock my ancestor?"

She faltered, her face falling. "I didn't mean-"

Cregan used that to his advantage, using his sword to knock hers out of her hand. The tip of Ice touched her throat.

The two stared at one another, hers in shock, and his in amusement.

"Never let your guard down."

She had to manually remember how to shut her mouth, the shock getting to her, and then the small bit of anger came in. "What's the ancient saying? Ah, yes, 'Fuck you'."

Cregan couldn't stop the bright chuckle that erupted from his chest. He tapped the flat end of the blade against the underside of her chin, forcing her head up. "Careful there, or I'll think those words literal. What was it your brother called me? A 'dumb brute'? Perhaps you shouldn't overestimate my intelligence, Bracken."

When he lowered his blade, she felt herself take a small gasp of air, trying to bring oxygen to her heated cheeks. "You're not dumb or a brute," she defended.

"No? What am I, wife?" He asked softly.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She hadn't meant to compliment him so openly, and now her defenses were vulnerable. "You're not… unintelligent."

He grinned, spinning his sword again. "Wow. What a compliment from a pretty girl. I fear I'm flushed."

She tried to ignore the tumble her stomach did when he called her pretty. "Well," she said as she bent down to pick up her sword, "I'm nothing if not honest." She adjusted her grip on it. "Again."

Cregan stared blankly, knowing he was head over heels for this girl.

…

He woke up better than he should have the next morning, beyond ecstatic for his sparring time with his wife.

He groaned and stood, ready to start his day.

His servant came in and began to help him dress, but there was a certain look to the man's eye.

"What?" Cregan asked.

"Hmm?" The man looked up. "Oh, nothing, my lord. Excuse me."

"No," he pushed. "Speak your mind, please. I encourage it."

The servant hesitated. "It's not mine to tell."

"Speak," Cregan ordered a little harsher.

"Your wife, my lord. The lady, she- she's inconsolable."

Cregan paused. "What?"

"There was a letter of some kind…?" He trailed off.

Cregan audibly growled. He dragged his tongue across the top row of his teeth to think carefully about his words. "From House Bracken? She broke the seal without me?"

"So I've been told, my lord."

"Where is she?" He asked a little too calmly.

"In the courtyard, I believe."

Cregan sighed. "Dress me for a spar."

…

Indeed she was outside, repeatedly swinging her sword without pause at the wooden dummy.

She was angry.

Her arms burned, her legs ached, sweat ran down her face in abundance, but her anger was too much to stop.

She swung back again only to feel the weight of her blade leave her hands.

"YOU BROKE MY TRUST," an angry voice sounded from behind her.

She whipped around.

Cregan stood, his towering frame only more intimidating with his anger. His eyes were set on her like a wolf spotting prey. Her longsword lay in his hand, his grip so tight that his knuckles were four shades lighter than the rest of him.

With his teeth bared like that, she finally understood all of the Stark/direwolf references.

"Give me my blade," she shot back.

He held it out of her reach. "Starks are honest. Noble. Trustworthy. You are no Stark."

She scoffed. "Cause I broke one seal?"

"It's more than that and you know it."

"Give. Me. My. Sword."

When she reached out for it, Cregan took his free hand to grab her jaw tightly. "What was in that letter?" He growled.

"Fuck you."

He pulled her closer, their breaths mixing in the cold air. "Tell me."

She spat in his face, throwing Cregan off.

Taking a play from his book, she used that to reach out and take her blade. She stepped back and pointed it at him. "Stay away from me."

"So eager to take advantage of my kindness, girl?"

She shook her head. "Kind? You're not kind at all. Hoping to lower my defenses and gain my trust, all while your war waged on in the background? Hardly a gentlemanly thing to do."

Her words made him falter for a moment. "What?"

"Oh, don't act so noble now, Stark." She waved the blade around as she spoke. "Parade me around while I remain clueless. I may be your Stark, but I am no traitor to anyone, much less my family."

"I never said you were," he said through gritted teeth. "Give me your sword. End this foolishness."

"I'd rather die."

Cregan forced himself to take a breath, reaching for Ice. "Don't do something you'll regret, wife."

"What will you do?" She held her arms up. "Kill me too? Just do it already."

"You fucking Bracken!" He yelled. "So caught up in yourself that you-" His head tilted and his voice softened immediately. "Kill you too? What does that mean?"

She shook her head. "Playing innocence? How noble indeed. Maybe you really are just a dumb bru-"

"-Watch your next words carefully, wife," he warned lowly. His patience was wearing thin.

"Yes, I broke the seal. Yes, I read the letter. Punish me, I don't care!" She almost threw her sword aside but stopped herself. "Would you have even told me?"

"Told you what?" He looked around in anger. "What are you even doing out here? Practicing to spear your husband?"

That was obviously the wrong thing to say, he noticed. Though he wasn't sure why.

She swung her sword at him in anger, and he retrieved Ice quick enough to block it.

She growled and let out a series of swings, each driving her a step forward and the Stark a step back.

Cregan was an expert swordsman, blocking each one. Her attacks were sloppy without a doubt, but the speed caused him to be on edge.

He soon found himself backed up against the wall of Winterfell where he had to block and push his blade against hers to keep her from getting the upper hand.

Their faces were close, the only separation being the blades between them.

Cregan studied her face. The furrowed brow, the soft complexion, the tears in her eyes.

"If this is how a Stark man consoles a woman in mourning," she whispered, "I want no part of you."

Seeing that her words hurt him more than her blade ever could, she backed away, throwing her sword in the dirt and storming off.

"My father had the decency to tell me since it seems my husband wouldn't," she yelled over her shoulder.

Cregan stayed against the wall in contemplation. "Your father never writes you," he yelled back.

"Exactly."

…

Aeron Bracken was dead.

Cregan ran his fingers across the ink over and over again, rereading the letter once he finished it.

Was he surprised? No. But if there was any noble death to a Bracken, it was challenging a Blackwood.

"Ashamed I read it without your leering shadow?" A small voice sounded from the door.

Cregan looked up at her, only seeing now just how distraught she was. Her eyes held a dullness to them now that he'd extinguished the fire in them earlier. Her cheeks seemed sunken in. He wasn't sure how that could even happen from news that was only heard hours before. Her shoulders that once held pride and stubborness were slumped in surrender. Even her dress seemed too heavy for her now.

"My condolences." That was all he knew to say.

She took in a shaky breath as hot tears began to fall down her face without warning.

Seems there was more to her than the anger she always hid behind.

"I should have written to him that day," she cried as she looked at Cregan. "Why didn't I write to him when I had the chance?"

Cregan cursed under his breath.

They both knew the answer.

Aeron had insulted Cregan.

He felt so guilty for placing her between two sides.

Cregan had no words of reassurance. No 'He died a noble death,' for he had died attacking Cregan's ally. No 'He loved you well,' cause he wasn't sure that Aeron did. No 'I'm here,' for the last thing she wanted was his touch.

"I didn't know," is what he finally settled on.

She sniffled. "What?"

"This," he gestured to the letter. "I didn't know. The Blackwoods have not written to me yet, it seems. For if they did, I would have told you myself."

"Would you?" She questioned lightly.

"Better from me than ink-"

"Forgive me for my actions."

He paused. "Alright."

"I was cruel without reason. I suppose grief can cause the mind to forget a lot of things."

"Forget things?" He asked as he stepped to her. "Like what?"

"The love I have for you," she admitted as she avoided eye contact.

He felt his breath hitch. "Ah."

"Or perhaps," she spoke again, "That attacking a master swordsman is a bad idea."

He laughed.

How easy she was to converse with, even when the two were so full of emotion.

"Indeed," he smiled. He tried not to feel too much at the sight of her smile, no matter how teary eyed she was.

"I should have known better than that. Starks are honest and trustworthy. You are," she paused to finally look up at him, speaking each word slowly to show she truly meant it, "honest. And trustworthy."

"You mean that?"

"What? You'd rather me call you a brute again?" She teased.

Gods, she was so captivating.

He tilted his head in disbelief. "I don't think you would."

She took a step with each word as her grin only grew. "You mischievous. Little. Bru-"

His lips locked onto hers.

They hadn't kissed since the wedding. It was so much better than he remembered it. So much sweeter.

She took a moment to snap to, kissing him back equally.

The two took in each other, hands wandering like never before. All of this tension had finally snapped, and neither were willing to part now that they'd had a taste.

"Your house wor-"

She put a finger over his lips. "Who fucking cares?"

He grinned and pulled her hand away to kiss her again.

Her fingers began to pull on his tunic, and only then did he snap to. He pulled away.

"Something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Gods, you're… you're a vision, but I can't. Not like this." He panted lightly as his gaze moved to the longsword he'd thrown on the desk. "Perhaps we do something else with our… stamina."

"Right," she said with a deep breath. "That's noble of you. Sparring will do us well, I'm sure. Just until this passes."

His cheeks heated. "And then?"

"I'm moving into your chambers within the fortnight."

She had said it so matter-of-factly that he wouldn't dare deny it to her.

"Alright."

"Then I'll jump your bones, Cregan Stark."

His eyebrows shot up and he was sure he was a bright pink color at that point.

She only smiled and stepped out of the room to dress for their spar.

…

"What was that." Swing. "You were saying." Swing. "About my house words?" Swing.

He grinned as he blocked and then swung himself. "I was going to say." Swing. "That they might." Block. "Ring true." Swing.

Block. "How so?" Block.

Swing. "I fear you," he teased.

"You don't." Swing.

He chuckled. "You're right." Block. "I don't." Swing.

She managed to sidestep him, causing his momentum to shift with his sword. She took that time to step around and kick at the back of his knee, causing the man to fall to his knees.

She bent down and tugged on his hair, exposing his neck as her other hand pulled her blade to rest gently against his neck.

He smiled widely. "But I fear for everyone else if they dare test you."

She placed a kiss to the side of his head, stepping away and letting the Wolf stand himself.

"You're getting better," he commented as he moved to retrieve Ice.

"Or you're getting worse," she snickered.

He pointed his blade at her with a teasing smirk. "You better watch yourself, Stark."

"Am I not a Bracken anymore?"

"No. No, hardly." He lowered his sword to step to her. He pulled her body against his. "I'm not sure you ever really were."

"How so?" She asked, trying not to get distracted by the proximity of his face to hers.

"You're much more of a direwolf than a horse, don't you think? You bite much harder than most."

"How would you know that?"

He laughed. "Well, I intend to find out. Perhaps when I finally see you in my chambers."

She turned red. "If you weren't a lord, I'd-"

"-You'd what?" He taunted playfully.

She paused. "I'd take you in this courtyard."

He leaned in. "Who says you can't, Stark?"

............................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

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jasmines-library · 7 days ago

Note

What about a fem!reader x jason todd and they're keeping their relationship a secret but bruce sees them making out in the batcave?

This sucks but I love u and ur writings

Xoxo

Anon 💉

Head Over Heels

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Jason's lips moved softly against yours as he kissed you. Jason was a gentle lover, contrary to what many people may believe. When it comes to you, Jason always took his time to make sure everything was perfect. He never rushed into things. Weather it was just placing a hand on the small of your back when you were out in public or the way he tucked your hair behind your ear when he moved in to kiss you; everything was always thought out with Jason.

The two of you had been dating for a little while now, and you had to say that he was your world. He put so much effort into it. The two of you would often stroll together hand in hand, walking through Gotham's parks as the leaves shifted from green to a golden orange, or you would spend the cold nights cuddled up on his bed as something played quietly in the background. You loved to listen to him talk. To find every detail of his features, and uncover them like an archeologist. The freckles lining his nose. The dimple on his left cheek when he smiles. The way his eyes lit up with this gorgeous glint when the topic wandered to something he was particularly interested in. How he would become animated when showing you his bikes. It was safe to say that you were utterly in love with Jason. And he was equally as in love with you.

However the two of you had decided to keep your relationship a secret. for now, atleast. With Jason not only being in the public eye, but also being a vigilante, he didn't want you to get dragged into something you didn't need to be part of. But also...his brothers were rather...prying...and he didn't want them knowing more than he was willing to tell them. So, to stop that from happening the two of you agreed not to tell anyone until you were both comfortable.

But, as the two of you were hiding out in the cave, that plan was cut short. Too captured by the feeling of each other, you and jason failed to hear the sound of the footsteps echoing through the cave, and didn't notice that there was someone watching until they gave an awkward clear of their throat.

Pulling away from each other quickly, Jason's eyes widened as he looked up to find Bruce standing a few feet away. He tried to compose himself quickly. "Bruce- i...we..."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He was rather amused at his son's attempt to be nonchalant. "Care to explain?"

Jason fumbled some more over his words, unable to hide the red flush that appeared on his face. It was rather cute, if you had to describe it. Eventually, he let out a soft breath. "Father....y/n is my girlfriend."

Bruce let out a hum. "I see." he took a step closer. "and how long has this been going on?"

"A few months..." Jason responded, lacing your fingers with his. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Bruce....you have to understand that I love her very much and I- I don't care if you approve or not because-"

A small smile appeared on Bruce's lips as he watched his son ramble protectively over you. He could tell he was head over heels for you . "Jason." He said, grabbing the boy's attention. "Its okay. I'm not going to stop you from dating. I'm happy for you."

"...you are?" Jason's eyebrows pinched together.

"Course I am."

Jason thought for a moment. "Good. Because I am too. I'm sorry i didn't tell you....we just thought it would be easier for us."

"It's alright. I'm not mad. Although....i can't say the same for when your brothers find out."

"Oh god...you cannot tell them! Please don't tell them!"

the older man just grinned, moving towards the door. "I'll leave you two alone then." he said. his footsteps, that you should have heard earlier, echoed through the room before the stopped and he reappeared. "And no more kissing."

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish @killxz @rosecentury @azure-drag0ness @noisymutantherelol @rhiodes @thewhispersofthewaves @reggies-eyeliner

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #fluff #dc #batfamily #batfam

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weakformingyu · 8 months ago

Text

You are my favorite

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Part 2 of Can I be your favorite?(Recommended to read the first part for context)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst(the tiniest bit)

Summary: you let your insecurities come in between your new relationship with Minho, luckily for you though, he's not gonna let you run away so easily.

Words count: 3,076

THIS CONTENT IS +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: oral(f. receiving), unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it ffs), creampie, marking, hickeys, dirty talk(barely), Minho is possessive asf(is it even my fic if he's not possessive?), reader is insecure

You were sore when you woke up the next morning — or should you say, afternoon? It was already 2pm when you opened your eyes, finding Minho's place empty by your side.

You look around the room, now there's enough light coming from the windows for you to be able to see the room. You don't know how to explain it but it fits Minho perfectly, the decoration is discreet but not basic and it shows a lot of his personality, more than you're aware of.

You get up, not really sure what you're supposed to do. So you collect your things and start getting dressed, tying your hair in a ponytail to try and conceal the mess.

When you open the door, you look around before getting out, not sure if you're going to find someone and a bit embarrassed to be going away at this hour. You get down the stairs, walking past the kitchen at a quick pace but before you can turn the knob, you hear a voice behind you.

“Minho, your girl is trying to escape”, he yells, making you spin on your heels quickly looking at the telltale just to find a boy, who you're sure is Jeongin, the youngest of the frat house.

“Never thought you would be the type to smash and dash”, your crush says, popping out of the kitchen.

“I'm not!” You defend yourself, crossing your arms.

“That's not what it looks like to me”, he shrugs.

“I was just looking for you”, you lie and he scoffs, walking towards you.

“You shouldn't lie, princess”, he leans closer to you, making you gulp. “I don't like liars”, he whispers. Smirking when he sees your breath quickening and the way you lick your lips nervously. “Anyways, you can go if you want. I'll pick you up at 8”

“F-for what?” You ask, trying to recompose yourself.

“I told you I was going to take you out for dinner, didn't I?”

"I can't believe you're really going on a date with Minho”, Jihyo says, clapping excitedly while she searches for something in your wardrobe.

“I don't why he wants to go on a date with me”

“‘cause you're hot?” Your best friend says, as if it's obvious.

“He has a hundred other hot girls to take on dates”, you scoff, making Jihyo throw a pillow at you.

“Stop with the self depreciation, he doesn't want the other girls, he wants you. So get your ass over here so I can help you with your makeup”

You were hopeful but didn't think Minho would actually do as he promised. At exactly 8pm, you heard a knock on the door and Jihyo squealed, giving you a thumbs up and sending you to your date.

Minho was looking exceptionally handsome in all black, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. He stares at you up and down with a grin on his lips.

“You look good”, he tells you, enjoying seeing your cheeks turning a dark shade of red.

“Y-you look nice too”, you say, stepping outside and closing the door behind you.

You are seated in front of him, not really sure what to do next, you two ordered your food and some expensive wine that you never heard about. The ride to the restaurant was a bit awkward, you felt the need to say something but didn't know what to say so you talked about the weather not realizing that he liked seeing you trying, nervous like a bunny being hunted by a predator, him.

“So, what's your major?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts. He's resting his face on his hand while watching you fidget on your seat.

“Engineering”, you answer, sipping on the glass of water the waiter poured to you.

“That's interesting”, he smiles. “I'm a dance major”, he tells you.

“I know”, you say without thinking, covering your mouth immediately. “I mean, everyone knows”, you smile sheepishly.

“Ah, yes. You like me, right?” He smirks, proudly, making your face turn as red as a tomato.

“Please, stop saying that, it's embarrassing”, you hide your face in your hands.

“It's embarrassing that you like me?” He chuckles, tilting his head.

“You were not supposed to know that”, you clarify, “it's pathetic that I have feelings for someone who didn't even know I existed until last night”, you sigh.

“I clearly knew you existed, since I knew that you like me”, he teases. “I don't think it's pathetic, the heart wants what it wants”

“Is that why you dated all those girls?” You ask, naively, making his eyes grow wide. He didn't think you'd be that straightforward.

“No, I'm not one to rejected a nice looking girl”, he shrugs, “they just didn't manage to be more than that to me, but I'm sure they can be something more for someone else”

“Ah”, you nod, feeling awkward.

“Do you want to date me?” He asks nonchalantly like he's asking how was your day, making you choke on the water you just drank.

“What?” You ask, shocked.

“I think I was very clear”, he answers, scowling.

“Why would you want to date me?”

“I guess you heard me well”, he teases, “you're my type”, Minho clarifies.

“I don't think I'm, though”, you oppose.

“I think I know better than you who is or is not my type”

“I mean, I'm not pretty like your other girlfriends”, you push.

“Firstly: why would I want someone just like the people I broke up with? Second: I think you're pretty”

You feel your whole face hot, covering your mouth instantly so he doesn't see the stupid smile you have on your lips.

“Also, I like fucking you”, he ruins the moment, smirking, “I wanna keep doing that”

“What a gentleman”, you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat growing on your lower stomach. He doesn't need to know that you'd give anything for him to fuck you right now on the restroom of the restaurant.

“I can be one”, he stretches his arm, grabbing your hand, caressing it. “Or I can be the opposite of that, it's your call”, he shrugs.

That's precisely how you ended up fucking on the restaurant’s restroom. He pulled you inside the confined space, bending you on the sink and before you could prepare yourself his cock was inside of you.

“Fuck, kitten”, he groans, covering your mouth, not slowing down his thrusts. “You have to be quiet if you don't wanna get caught”, you nod, crying out, seeing his smirk through the reflection of the mirror.

You ended up dating him. It's not like it's a sacrifice for you or anything but you couldn't wrap your head around the reason that the Lee Minho would want to date you of all people. People's reaction was different from the one you expected too, they didn't really care, thinking he was going to dump you in a week.

However, to their surprise and especially yours, he didn't. Minho never even brought up the idea of breaking up and when you realized, two months had already passed.

After two months you still couldn't believe you were dating him and how hot he is, you always thought he was the most handsome man you ever saw but dating him hits differently. Now you can see him after a shower, coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his hip, his muscular chest bare for you to drool over. He cooks for you, making your favorite foods or some you never ate before. He brings you snacks and makes side dishes for you to eat at home. Minho picks you up before class and takes you back home after or he invites you to sleep over at the frat. You're already acquainted with all his friends, they even come looking for you to show you things when you're in the house. It makes you wonder if they acted like that with all of his girlfriends. Two months of the sweetest romance and the best sex you've ever had.

At least it was. You're not going to deny it, you're insecure. Minho is someone you never thought you could reach, so to be his girlfriend? It's something you never imagined. As he told you before, he has a great number of options, so the possibility that he'll replace you anytime, scares you.

You try forgetting about that, try not to overthink, until you find him at the library with a girl all over him. She's beautiful, perfect skin and shiny hair, she's hanging too close to him, touching his arm and throwing her head back in an exaggerated laugh. She's actually touching him at any chance she gets and you're there paralyzed like an idiot, watching it.

You feel the tears brimming in your eyes and you turn around and walk to the opposite side. You are his girlfriend, you should definitely step in, but in all honesty, you are too scared. Scared he'll look at you like you are nothing, that he's finally going to look at you with cold eyes like you have been waiting for it to happen.

You don't talk to him for days, avoiding meeting with him and ignoring his calls. You know it's childish to just ignore someone like that but you just needed to prepare yourself for the dreadful conversation you were about to have. It's going to be for the best if you two break up, he can go back to the way he lived before and you can stop worrying about when he's going to get tired of you.

It's not a surprise when Minho shows up at your door, you expected that to happen but wasn't expecting his appearance. He has his hair disheveled, deep eye bags under his eyes and he looks furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks, angrily, not even greeting you and storming inside your apartment like a hurricane. “Why did you disappear?”

“I needed to think”, you murmur, closing the door behind you.

“Think about what? You should at least have answered my texts”, he huffs, taking his jacket off and throwing it on the couch.

“About us”, you answer him, making his face soften a bit.

“What about us?” He asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“I think it's best if we break up”, you tell him at once, not really capable of dragging this conversation for too long, it was already so hard to say that sentence, you are about to cry at any minute.

“What are you on about?” He frowns, taking a step closer to you, but you take a step back.

“I'm trying to make the right decision for the both of us”, you sigh, “it's not like this is going to last anyways, you should go find someone who's on your level”

He scoffs, breathing a laugh. You expected any other reaction of him, but that one was not included.

“So that is what this is about”, he starts walking towards you and you start stepping back, until you bump into the kitchen table with nowhere else to run. Minho gets closer to you, looking down on you as he cages you between the table and his body.

“My kitten is insecure, is that it?” He asks, making you blush with the pet name. Minho never gets tired of making you flustered.

“I'm not”, you lie, avoiding his gaze.

“You know I don't like liars”, he tells you, “but I guess it's on me, if I did a better job as your boyfriend you wouldn't be feeling like this’, he pouts.

“You are a great boyfriend”, you murmur, trying not to look into his eyes, he's too close.

“Hm? I am?” He teases. “Then what's it, kitten, did you find someone more interesting than me?” He smiles, it was supposed to be a joke but the way your eyes widened with that simple suggestion makes him a bit mad. “Is that it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes to stare at you.

“No, there's no one like that”, you tell him.

“Then why did you hesitate?”, he raises his brows in questioning. You were just too shocked to answer right away but he doesn't let you tell him that. “Nice way to make me angry”, he scoffs. “I told you I can be a fucking gentleman so why do you always make me be the opposite of that?” He asks, taking a step closer to you and pressing his body against yours. His hands slide around your waist, caging you even more in his hold.

“Minho, I-”, you try to speak but he tsks, interrupting you.

“You need to learn a lesson”, he tells you, leaning closer and brushing his lips on your cheek, trailing it down to your jaw and then your neck. “You are mine”, he whispers before attaching his mouth to your neck, biting on your skin so hard you whine with the pain.

His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing it and pulling you up, to sit on the table. You were on your pjs already ready to sleep and that makes his access to your body easier, the thin fabric of your clothes can barely block the warmth coming from his body to yours.

Minho pops open his dress shirt, letting it slide and fall on the floor, watching your reaction to him. You bite on your bottom lip, staring at his muscular chest. He always looks so good, you feel like moaning just by looking at him.

“Min…”, you murmur, spreading your legs wide for him. It's not like you can resist him anyways.

“There you are”, he smiles, unbuckling his pants and letting it fall down at his feet, “my needy girl”

You avoid his eyes, pulling your shirt off to reveal your bare chest to him.

“You look so hot, all spread for me like this”, he smiles, getting on his knees. Minho pulls the waistband of your shorts and panties down, watching your glistening cunt in excitement. “Is this because of me or are you thinking about someone else?” He pushes, finally seeing you look at him, shaking your head frantically.

“It's all you, the only one I think about is you”, you confess, feeling your cheeks hot.

Minho grins, putting your legs over his shoulders and kissing your inner thighs. He licks your pussy slightly, just teasing you, making you put your hands on his head to force him against your core.

You can feel him smile, licking a long strip between your folds, attaching his lips to your clit next. Minho slides his hand between your legs, inserting two fingers inside of you, going in and out while he sucks your aching core, grunting and groaning with you pulling on his hair and he watches as you become undone in his mouth.

You can feel your orgasm coming, your toes curl immediately and you buck your hips against his mouth desperately, chasing your high and when the knot on your lower stomach finally explodes, you moan loudly, trembling in his embrace.

Minho stands up, cleaning around his mouth with his fingers and then licking on them.

“Still my favorite taste”, he smirks. You look stunning with your soft lips parted and hair disheveled, your chest rises and falls in a fast rhythm.

“This is going to be the last time I'll let you have your way”, you try looking the least bit believable while stating that, but that only makes him chuckle, stroking his cock a few times before he comes closer to you.

“And that only proves that you still haven't understood the situation you're in”, he tells you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock while he waits for you to stop him but you don't, you want to feel him inside you so fucking much that it seems like you're going crazy. He pushes in, feeling your cunt squeezing him deliciously. “Fuck”, Minho murmurs. Your arms wrap around his waist, burying your nails in his skin, the snap of his hips against yours making you breathless.

He kisses you, feeling your sweet lips against his only adds to the building up of his orgasm, you look so pretty, you're perfect for him, your pussy is perfect for him, he won't let you end things with him that easily.

He pulls away from you for a moment, your mouth is parted and your eyes are glossy, he wants to hold you forever.

“I'm in love with you”, he confesses, thrusts faltering a bit. Your eyes grow wide to his sudden revelation. “You won't get rid of me that easily, kitten”, he groans, pressing his lips against yours one more time.

That's enough for you to cum, squirming and trembling in his embrace, while you watch him breathlessly thrust inside of you, eyes locked with yours.

“Do it inside”, you cry out, overstimulated after your second orgasm. Minho groans, bending towards you and kissing you, spilling his hot cum inside you while he bites on your lips.

He rests his head on your shoulder, breathless, trying to recompose himself.

“Don't ever talk about breaking up, ever again”, he pulls away to look at you, finding your eyes brimming with tears.

“But I saw that girl hitting on you the other day at the library”, you pout, making him sigh, cupping your face with both of his hands.

“Yes, she was hitting on me but I told her I have a really smart, hot girlfriend and that I was not interested”, he tells you, making you feel like the greatest idiot in the world.

“I'm sorry, I should have checked with you first”, you say, “I just love you so much, I'm scared you're going to dump me”, you confess, making him chuckle. His heart beating like crazy, it's the first time you openly say you love him.

“Y/n, you're stuck with me for a long time”, he gives you a peck on the lips, “I won't ever do anything to hurt you, okay?”

You nod, feeling warmth spreading all over your chest.

“Now, you better prepare yourself, ‘cause you need to receive some punishment for disappearing and making me worry”, he tells you, showing you that devilish smirk of his and before you can run to save yourself, Minho is picking you up and dragging you to your room.

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yaut-jaknowit · 1 month ago

Note

Omg ♡

Human accidentally saving a Yautja? The human is oblivious to the fact that they saved him?

Could be spicy. it could be sweet, just a thought bouncing around in the head.

A Total Smash

Pairings: Dai'stbaen (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 6410 (thirteen pages... THIRTEEN PAGES)

Summary: The mountains are your home. Deep in winter, you head into town to get your necessary supplies to survive for two weeks. A rumor roams throughout the small town. You are put on edge. Upon the trip back up to your home, far from civilization, you had no time to react.

Author Note: Okay, okay, bear with me. It's been a hot moment since I last posted. I've got four in total in the vault to post. I wanted to catch up a little since my new job has been time consuming. I did warn you guys my writing may slow down unfortunately, but I'm fighting through it! Also, I'm so sorry but I wasn't able to get to the smut part. If you shot me a dm or another ask, I'm more than happy to continue. I'll even shoot it to the top of my list for you!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2

Deep in the mountains, where cell service was spotty at best, nestled your warm, comfortable home. It housed you and two dogs. There was nothing more than needed for this relaxing life you live. With internet at the house, you can work remotely for your job. Never required to come in and barely show your face.

Both dogs, Kodiak and Vivian, were curled up happily on the couches. Each dog getting their own seat to themselves. You huffed with a soft smile at the sight before grabbing your keys. “Okay, babies, I’ll be back. Be good for me!” you called out to them. Only Vivian raised her head. Besides that, neither made an effort to say goodbye to you.

With that, you went out the front door. A bitter cold instantly rained down on you. It tried to bite through your jacket to steal away your warm. The jacket held strong while you hustled towards your auto-started truck. A necessity if living this far from town and in the dead of winter. A little Nissan wasn’t going to get you even down your driveway in this kind of weather.

Inside the vehicle, it was wonderfully warm and toasty. The heat blasted while the butt warmers worked their magic. I put the key into the ignition then carefully crawled down the driveway.

The trip to the store was uneventful. Just the same people you see every two weeks when you make the adventure down to town. Everyone knows everyone. They know who you are and know this is the day you come in. Usually, you get the same thing every time. Once in a blue moon, you’ll find something of interest and place that into your cart as well.

Today was no different than any other. You grabbed the necessary items and piled your cart up. Items that would last the two weeks away from civilization. That included fresh fruits and vegetables. Those would be stretching it to last that long. Yet, they were part of your diet. You made due.

Susan, a young woman, brightened up at the sight of you. The gloomy teenager was the daughter of the owner. Her mother made her work here. Something she complained about often. You could agree with her. She may seem rude on the outside but once you break past that shell, she was a dear to chat with.

The two of you caught up on intel about what’s been happening around the town. Mainly, Susan chatted your ear off. Apparently, Rick, a well known hunter, had gone missing. It was like he up and vanished from thin air. You may not know the man well but you’ve allowed him to stay at your home while he went up further into the mountains to hunt.

Then, Susan began to rave about a new guy that just moved into town. She instantly called dibs on him and pointed an accusing finger at you. “Dibs! He’s mine. Don’t even think about it,” she playfully scolded and continued to scan more of the items you were buying.

A laugh bubbled in your chest. Both of your hands were raised at the sides of your head, in surrender. “Okay, okay. I got the message. He’s all yours.” Not that you think this man was old enough for you to dabble with. You weren’t interested anyhow. No one in town… really riled you up. Which explains your dry spell.

She narrowed her eyes at you for a moment before relaxing. “Good. I’ve been trying to get his number the moment I’ve heard he moved in,” she told you, shoulders sagging.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” The words may seem apologetic, but Susan knew better. There was sarcasm hidden between them.

Instead of her finger, she threatened you with a log of ground beef you were going to use for burgers or tacos. “Oh hush, miss ‘lonely on top of my mountain’. I don’t know how you do it. Only having those two dogs as company. Seems so lonely and cruel to yourself.” Susan shook her head, letting her blonde hair sway side to side.

You chuckled with a grin and leaned on the counter. “I’m a loner. It’s not a bad life. Bills paid. The forest as my backyard. The birds and squirrels greeting me in the morning. With a small river to dip my feet in every day. It’s peaceful and relaxing. You should try it,” you offered with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“With Rick missing, I wouldn’t step foot out there. Who knows what took him. What if it’s like a Green River killer situation happening? You could be next. You would be a perfect opportunity.” The last of the items were scanned. You put your card into the reader. “All alone. You only come down into town every two weeks. No cell service. If you were killed, we wouldn’t know until the next time you were suppose to come in.”

With all of that laid down in front of you, the realization of the situation with Rick hit you. Yes, you could next. But, for someone to find your property that far into the mountains, they would need to specifically hunt you down.

“Susan, I’m fine. I got a gun, my dogs, and a lot of courage. Why else would I like so far from civilization? I knew the risks. I’m willing to take it.” You pulled the card out of the reader and slipped it back into your wallet. “Plus, Kodiak and Vivian would alert me if someone was near. They’re good guard dogs.” Well, not Vivi. Kodiak, was though.

The teenager reached across the counter to grasp your hand. “I still worry. You’re… one of my few friends that I feel close to. Please, don’t let you go missing too,” she pleaded with a hurt look etched into her features. You placed your other hand on top of hers and patted it.

“I won’t. You know me. I fight like hell,” you reassured her. Susan looked at you for a few more moments before taking back her hand. The two of you said your goodbyes before you left the store with a full cart.

On the drive back home, your thoughts were slightly scrambled from the fact there was Rick was missing. He knew the forest like the back of his hand. Any of the kids in town who wanted to learn to hunt went to him. He was an excellent hunter. One of the bests out there. But now… he was MIA. That thought churned your stomach.

Whilst in the deep end of your thoughts, your truck came around a corner. The snow on the road wasn’t terrible. A current flurry fell to cover the ground. It only made the sight difficult to see in front of you. Yet, you knew this roads like the back of your hand.

The added weight in the back of your reliable truck aided you well. You happily kept trucking your way along and popping to the sounds of your music.

Before it registered in your mind, something smashed into the grill guard on the front of your truck. Whatever it was went flying and disappeared through the flakes that filled the air. You gasped and stupidly stomped on the brakes. What little road there was present caught your tires and thankfully stopped you rapidly.

You were out of the vehicle before you knew it and rushing towards whatever you had hit. The snow was slick under your feet and took you into the embankment. Your feet were no longer underneath you. A short yell escaped you. You found yourself sunk into two feet of snow. When you get home, it seems like you’ll be stripping. The last thing you wanted was to get sick.

As you slowly rose to your feet, one of your hands landed on something that didn’t feel like it should be. Warmth greeted your palm. In this weather? It’s below freezing.

A confused expression pinched at your features. With a caution that guided your moves, you began to brush away the snow you must have pushed onto whatever this is.

One brush revealed something dark under the snow. The light of the day showed the surface to be… scaly? That’s the best word you could come up with. You peered down to see a fishnet like material that covered the scales. All you could think of was a stripper. Did you hit a… stripper? What the hell was a stripper doing this far from town? Why?

Despite it being imposable, the figure was warm. Pleasantly warm to the touch. You uncovered more and more until you come to release this was a human? Sort of. It had a humanoid form but wore a mask of metal. It covered the lower portion of its face to show off two deep eyes which were closed.

Whoever this was, wasn’t normal. The head shape was what screamed at you. Then, the strange rubbery like dreads that sprouted from underneath its dome shape head. Whiskers that looked to be made of the same material as its hair created eyebrows that crawled up the edges of its head.

Was this the thing you hit?! Your hand wrapped around its wrist, only to find that your fingers couldn’t even encircle it. There was at least two inches of space. But, you turned its wrist so the underside pointed skyward. Two fingers were placed on where a pulse point would be on human.

The warmth the form produced was amazing. The snow was melting when it fell on its exposed body. You almost wished to snuggle against it and savor its heat. Instead, you felt like behind your fingertips with relief. Now, what were you going to do with it?

For a moment, you glanced at your truck and knew the tonneau cover on the bed of your truck would be protective. There was not a chance in a million years that you could lift its hulking form and seat in it. The bed of your truck would be the easiest to get it into your truck. You didn’t know what it was. That was the scary part. But, you felt awful for smashing into it. The poor thing unconscious and lying in a ditch.

Your bottom lip was gnawed on.

With whatever strength you had, the humanoid figure found its way partial draped over your shoulders and back. Both of its muscular arms were thrown over your shoulder to help keep it up. You carefully dragged the unknown creature up the embankment and over to your truck.

Its head was next to your ear. Soft snores escaped its hidden mouth. The corner of your mouth curls up in a softly smirk. The sound was adorable for something so big. You didn’t except it make such a noise.

Your legs quivered with the strain of holding the creature up and reaching for your tailgate. The door eased down and offered you the needed space. A grunt surged past your lips. You tossed his upper portion onto the tailgate. The back end of your truck lowered with the added weight. Then, you bent down to grab its lower legs.

The strength it took to get the rest of it inside nearly made a vein pop in your forehead. You panted and leaned against your truck, head tilted back. The biting cold and falling snowflakes made your nose cold. You pushed the rest of it far enough before closing the gate with a slam. One more glance around provided no results. Just the empty forest that surrounded you.

You got back into your truck with a shuttering breath. Heat blasted in your face and unfroze the skin. It felt wonderful compared to the cold that clawed desperately to suck away your warmth. But, the metal of the vehicle protected you. You put it into drive and continued the drive back home to your dogs.

On the way back, all you could think of was the creature. What was it? And why was it out here of all places? This was the middle nowhere. There was no cell service. Nothing out here. Just the way you like it. Yet, here was this monstrous, towering beast that didn’t look human. Here you are, taking it home… to do what? Take care of it? To nurture it back to health? Well, you did hit him with your truck. That, you felt bad about.

White blanketed the entire front area of your driveway. The snow still coming down heavily at this point. You stepped out. The bitter cold returning to steal your heat. You trudged to the front door and unlocked before returning to the tailgate of your truck. It took little effort to pull it open and reveal the still unconscious body. You didn’t know what you would’ve done if it was awake. That was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now.

From the front door to your current position, it was about fifteen feet. The front porch was protected by the overhang. You gathered your strength and nerves before dragging the form closer to you. The truck continued shake at the weight of the creature. This was going to be difficult. You lugged the chest of it onto your back while slinging it’s arms over your shoulders. Not even the full weight was upon you and you felt like it was about to crush you. The adrenaline from before had worn off during the drive.

The muscles of your thighs trembled as you strained to get it out. You guess this was your sign to work out from more. It took a lot of finesse to lug the form out so it could be draped haphazardly over the top of you. One step after another, you worked your way to the front door and kicked it open. Both dogs charged out the front door to greet you. They raced up to the two of you and heavily sniffed at the legs of the creature.

“Guys! Stop! It’s difficult enough to carry this thing without either of you trying to drag it down,” you scold the two with a stern voice. Both of them eased up on their excitement but continued to take in its scent. You sighed and finally entered your home after such a long day.

The creature flopped down onto your couch the best you could with it’s size. It was massive, not even fitting on your full length couch. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand in a humorous manner before marching out the front door again. From there, you hauled in the days work you had gone out to retrieve.

Once everything was inside the house, the door was closed and animates corralled back inside. All the food and supplies you got were swiftly put away before you got out the first aid. You didn’t know what you could do for it without any medical knowledge. It was let bleeding by the looks of it. You knelt besides it on the couch and noticed what looked to be bruising and swelling all along its right side. The grill guard. Your fingers gingerly ran along the blazing scales.

This was all your fault.

With the limited knowledge to care for serious injuries, you grabbed an ice pack from deep within your freezer. Kodiak and Vivian came over to investigate why you weren’t giving them attention. Kodiak, the bigger of the two, had his hackles raised and stood rigid a few feet away from the two of you. On the other hand, Vivian nudged her short, boxer nose into the creatures very human-like hand. The main difference was the scales and long black claws that tipped each finger. You shuttered and placed the cloth wrapped ice packs on the swelling.

Wheezing sounded with each inhale and exhale. The noise worried you. It wasn’t like you could take it doctor though. One look at this thing would have the FBI and CIA on your ass the second afterwards.

Despite it looking dangerous, the last thing you wanted was to put it through more harm. You already hit it with your truck and sent it flying like a reindeer through the air. The evidence was blooming on its two-tones scales. A mix of burgundy and tan. The red turning dark in some areas.

Upon closer inspection, skin was spilt on its forehead. Red blood did not flood from the cut. But a neon green that glowed despite the light in your living room. You did the best you could to tend to the mediocre cut. It wasn’t like it needed to be worried over. You fulfilled your duties then stepped away to prepare for dinner. There wasn’t much else you could do for it.

Now, it was up to fate if it is to wake up.

Amidst the preparation of dinner, your dogs whined and begged for their own. A glance at the clock told you it was past their dinner time. You were swift to make up a healthy concoction of raw meat, eggs, and a couple of vitamins to sprinkle on top. Their bowls were set in their respected spots. Each dog was given their command to eat.

Satisfied with that, you happily returned to making yourself food for the night. Every once in a while, you would glance over at the limp body still blanketing your couch. You still couldn’t believe how massive it was. If it were to stand, it would easily tower over you. You were thankful it hadn’t woken up though. You didn’t know what you would do when it would possibly wake up.

Water boiled in an otherwise empty pot. You side stepped to reach for the box of pasta. At the same time, you peered over your shoulder for a fleeting moment. The couch was empty. The box became your focus. You opened it up before pausing.

The couch was empty.

Heat flooded your backside.

A scream left your lips. Your body reacted before your mind fully comprehend the situation. You spun around and chucked the box of open pasta at the wall of muscles that stood directly behind you. It bounced off and scattered loose noodles all over the ground.

The wall didn’t move. Another scream left your lips. You scrambled to get towards the bat next to your door. Kodiak was the first to react and come bounding into the kitchen at full speed. A deep rumbling growl filled the air. Angry barks echoed off of the walls.

The cold metal of the bat met your palm. You whipped around and wielded your new weapon in the face of your intruder. Only to pause at the sight of the towering figure in your kitchen. Despite the lower portion of its face covered, its eyes clearly showed the confusion inside of them. It glanced down at the spilled pasta then at you. You gulped and kept the bat in front of you. God, it looked like it could take this thing away from you and bend it into a pretzel.

When it made no move towards as the tense seconds passed by, you timidly lowered the bat. Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips. “You’re… awake,” you stated the obvious. But, you didn’t know what to say. Could it even understand you?

Intelligence shone in its bright, yellow eyes.

Nothing human-like.

It took a moment to take in its surroundings and ignored the snarling, slobbering dog in front of him. Its form was lax. You didn’t know if that should scare you or not.

“Kodiak!” you recalled the protective, black mut to you. His growls died down. His eyes didn’t leave the towering form the creature. He expertly walked over to you and stood in front of you. His body acting like a wall.

Vivian roamed into the kitchen, nose towards the ground. The boxer mutt sniffed at the fallen pasta until she came upon the creature. Her tongue lolled out while she tilted her head up. Her tail began to wag.

The two of them are polar opposites.

Fear gripped your heart. It knelt down and started to stroke her head. You didn’t miss the way it winced at the move. Guilt flooded you. It was your fault it was in this situation. Injured. The least you could do was offer a roof over its head and a full belly. Hopefully, that would save you from any transgressions. The last thing you wanted to do was piss it off. Those arms could tear your head straight from your body.

Bright yellow eyes returned to your timid form. In the eyes of a predator. Your heartrate began to pick up. You swallowed hard. “How, how are you feeling?” Thoughts were racing in your mind. Maybe, you could offer it some painkillers to ease off the agony of what looked to be broken ribs. They were at least bruised and could even be cracked. If they were broken, you wouldn’t forgive yourself. It was hard enough with the knowledge you had hit it.

A shuttering breath escaped your quivering lungs. It stared at you. All while petting Vivian. She just sat there, happy as a clam. Her tail wagging away in delight. Kodiak didn’t leave you despite his adoptive sister getting attention.

Then, it stood up. You felt yourself shrink. It was evident that this thing could move without you noticing. It shouldn’t be possible with its size and mass. None of the floorboards had creaked when it originally snuck up behind you.

While it looked at you, it felt wrong to return its gaze. As if you were poking the bear. You were making the situation worse than it already is. How could it get worse than this?!

Your front door shattering. Wood went flying at each of your feet’s. You yelled out and covered your head. The bat still gripped tightly in a death grip. A white blur zipped in front of you.

The form ignored you to wrap a hand around the creature and lifted him off of the ground. Kodiak went wild and charged without a care of his own safety. You screamed at him but he was in his own mind. To protect you.

Vivian yelped and scampered the best she could on the hard wood away from the scene. She was the smarter of the two.

Before stood a nearly ghost white humanoid form. Similar to the creature you had saved from the snow. Yet, its dreads were pure white. Devoid of any melatonin. You gasped. It had a death grip around the red creature’s throat and lifted it off of the ground. A pained grunt left its throat while it scrambled to get out of the hold.

Like son, like parent. You charged forward with the bat and smashed the metal end against the back of its white head. Ghost dropped Red with a pained grunt. Not a second was wasted. You continued to beat down on its nogging like your life depended on it. A guttural cry left your lips as you relentlessly bashed the metal bat.

A white slightly lime green hand whipped out and snatched the bat straight from your hands. Now, you were defenseless in the face of this monster.

Teeth latched onto its calf and dug in. Neon green blood sprayed out and soaked into Kodiak’s maw. You took the chance to back away.

A hulking body launched through the air and drug Ghost down. Fist flew. The harsh sounds of skin meeting skin in a vicious beat down filled the air. You stood there, arms slightly raised, as if you froze in the process of fleeing. All you do was watch as Red continued to introduce his knuckles to the metal of Ghost’s face.

The strength behind each punch caused the metal cave before giving. Neon green blood coated his red fists and coated them to the point it was flung everywhere. Its warmth dotted your clothing and face. But, you didn’t even flinch at the feeling.

Once Ghost had stopped moving, the punches halted. A scary calm entered the air. Red’s chest heaved with breaths but the mouth mask quieted the noise. You swallowed and pushed down the ringing in your ears. Its head whipped towards you with a rumbling snarl that nearly sent Kodiak off again. But, the lanky mutt came up to you to stand guard once in front of you.

Red realized it was you and silenced the sound immediately. Your hand carded through Kodiak’s fur to help quell the racing in your chest. The creature let his head tilt back a deep groan. Its dark dreads swayed at the move. The metal décor clinking against one another.

Your hand touched at your chest. The adrenaline in your system fading with each beat of your heart. The heat of the moment finally over. But, the fact you had nearly been slaughtered was a neon sign right in front of you. Your eyes finally focused on Red who was still straddling the dead body; of whatever they were.

In what felt like less than a minute, the situation had returned to normal. As the powerful drug left your veins, the biting cold that slithered into your expose home caused a chill down your back. You shivered and hugged at yourself.

The front door. It was nearly gone. Only bits and pieces hung on to the hinges. All the heat that was once inside the cozy home was gone. In came a cold you didn’t know how to battle.

A whimper left your lips.

A wall of muscle stood in front of you. Red’s hulking frame stood like a redwood tree over you. The first instinct was to shrink away. To flee. Pretty much. Your feet were rooted to the ground, unable to gather the strength and courage to run. To be a coward in the face of danger.

Kodiak no longer growled but his hackles were raised high. His dark brown eyes watched the unknown figure closely.

Heat rolled down in comforting waves off its body. It almost made you want to press yourself against it. You refrained from that embarrassing idea and glanced back over towards the destroyed door. “My door,” you pouted, sorrowfully and hugged yourself tighter. You had to think of something quick to keep the house a decent temperature.

Before you had a chance to get a plan in place, Red was already on the move. His body gracefully into the living room. You watched as blankets were gathered in those thick arms of his. He carried them over to the door.

As the best he could, he draped the blankets in layers. With the metal gauntlet on its arm, it punctured something into the wall multiple times. Each blanket was secured into place. It helped keep the majority of the cold out of your home.

His form stilled after he had blocked off your door. You took a breath of relief. The house was still drastically colder from the exposed elements. What he did though will help with preventing a quick exchange of temperature. You opened your mouth to speak your relief to him when the creature turned around to finally face you.

There was an air around him that made you slightly nervous. It made you off putted. With the dead body of someone like him on your floor, you had all rights to be. A life he took with his very own fists, and showed no mercy.

Yet, Ghost had come in here. A monster on a mission for the creature standing in front of you.

That left you with one major question: “What the hell happened?” you asked in a firm voice. Your heart thumped powerfully behind your breastbone. The adrenaline leaving your system and making you tired. The last thing you wanted was to pass out or grow dazed in front of him. Not when he showed what he could do without a weapon.

Red’s bright, blazing eyes were set on you. He strode across the living room to enter your space. The heat his body radiated rolled off onto you again. It made you strive to curl up against him. But, you stayed rooted in your spot and looked up at his towering frame. You were scared. At the same time, you held your own in the face of danger. A watchful, careful eye was set on him.

Your body was wracked with a shutter.

“You are cold,” he spot in a voice that barely uttered the words. It was almost like it wasn’t natural to him. His tongue and mouth wasn’t meant to form such words. Your eyes flickered wider before narrowing on him.

Both of your hands rested on your hips. “Well, no shit sherlock. It’s freezing outside and your friend here busted down my door,” you snarked at him. The cold making you a bitter human being.

All you could read on his face was his eyes. One of his brows simply raised at your words. “He was no friend.” Welp, he didn’t understand the sarcasm in your voice.

A sigh left your lips while you shook your head. The temperature was still far below a comfortable range. You recrossed your arms firmly to contain your own body heat. “Still doesn’t excuse the behavior for the fact my front door is gone.” It would take you some time before you could go back into town and get yourself a new door. You had work tomorrow. It was dangerous to be out after dark. There was no time between now and tomorrow.

You rubbed at the exposed skin on your arms with another shutter. The creature’s eyes flickered down to watch the move. He moved in. You opened your mouth to demand what he was doing then his arms wrapped around you. The warmth you’ve been craved soaked into your skin. A deep hum escaped you while you sunk against him.

“Why are you so warm?” you mumbled against the scales he had you pressed to. Your arms twitched, desperate to reach out and wrap them around him. Yet, you held back to keep some sort of composure in front of a beast you didn’t know.

Against your cheek, you could feel the bumps from his injured ribs. That brought you back to the present. You pulled away from him to put some distance between the two of you. “How are your ribs?” you asked in a timid voice. Now, you became hesitant to look him in the eye. That was embarrassing to be nearly drooling at the heat he produced. He should be your concern. You had been the one to hit him with your truck. He’s wounded too.

His hand drifted up to said area. Rough pads grazed along the swollen spot on his left side. You winced. It looked worse than before. The fighting must have agitated them more.

A shrug came from him. “They are… fine,” he struggled to find the last word at first.

In all honesty, you weren’t convinced but had to take his word for it. You glanced down at the body then back at him. The front door was unusable. There was the back door.

God, you didn’t want to deal with this now. Worse of all, you lost your appetite. You jolted then rushed over into the kitchen.

Water boiled over the edge of the pot and created a dangerous mess. You instantly turned off the heat and leaned on the counter. You weren’t going to say it but this day had turned worse. Sometimes, it was best to keep your trap shut. That, you learned the hard way.

Pained grunts sounded behind you. You peered over your shoulder at the sight of Red picking up Ghost’s body. He tossed it onto his shoulders, fireman style, with little issues. Your jaw dropped at the sight. Red glanced at you for a fleeting moment before walking towards the only other door in your home. You watched as he stepped out into the snow and darkness.

Despite no light, the snow reflect any and all light. Red walked and walked upon he was barely visible. The body slid off of his shoulders and was quickly swallowed up by the feet of snow that blanketed the area.

No one would find the body. Not this far out. Who would be looking for it in the first place? Clearly, they weren’t from here. They were… from somewhere else.

Red came trudging back into the house and closed the door behind him.

Before a silence could engulf the two of you, you took a breath in. “I don’t know if you know… but I had hit you with my truck. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t even know someone would be out there. No one should be. But here we are. Um, and in return, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you want. My apologies for hitting you and such,” you stated to him and pushed off of the counter to stand up to your full height.

“There’s not much here. The other two bedrooms are taken. One for the dogs. The other for storage. Not like they had a bed in either of them. Y-you can stay in my room though. It’s big. It’s better than the couch.” God, you kept rambling on and on.

He chuffed. “It will grow cold out here. A ooman such as yourself wouldn’t battle the weather and win.” Your timid status nearly turned at his words. You wanted to smack him for the comment but refrained from doing so. Your head tilted at the use of ‘ooman’. It almost sounded like… human. Could he no say the word?

“What are you suggesting then?” you asked, unsure what he was trying to say.

“We sleep together.” The color drained from your face. Heat blazed to a burning fire all over your face. “We use each other’s body heat. Mostly, keeping you from freezing and dying on me.” He stepped close enough you saw the dimensions of his eyes. “You don’t realize it, but you not only saved me once but twice.”

Confusion took over your features.

“In the forest, on the road. I was fighting against the bad blood. You had came along in your vehicle and hit him. Then, just now.” Wait… you had hit both of them?! Your face morphed into horror. “As much as it pains me to admit to such a thing, you had saved my life twice. As per my honor code that I am bound to, I am in debt. I shall not let harm come to you.”

“Hold up! Hold up. Let me get this straight. I hit both of you.” You began to count off on your fingers with each point. “I somehow saved your life then. I drag you here. I save you again from… a bad blood? My god. What in the hell are you?!” You had both of your hands pointed at him. Your body very animate with your words.

“A Yautja. My name is Dai’stbaen. I am an enforcer,” he explains and forfeits information to you. You clutched at your forehead. “I hunt down bad bloods. Rouges of my kind and kill them.” You had to lean back against the counter again to keep yourself upright. All of this information was flying far too fast at you.

Then… it struck you. “You’re an alien.” It was more of a statement than a question. He wasn’t from earth. Aliens were real. Oh god. You felt lightheaded, on the verge of passing out from all of this hitting you straight in the face. A keen left your throat.

Dai…st’baen dipped his massive dome head. Your gaze was pinned to the floor but you weren’t looking at anything. You were trapped inside of the flying thoughts that turned into a hurricane.

Clearly, there was no sanity left inside of you. Not at this rate.

“Okay then.” After what felt like hours, you finally came to a conclusion. In the moment, you had to just roll with it. Adapt. Survive. A life you knew far too much about while living in the middle of nowhere. You met his eyes. “Well… um, this has been an eventful day. But, I think it’s time to turn it if you don’t mind. I need… to sleep on all of this.” Maybe some sleep could help you think clearer tomorrow.

The burgundy figure looked at you, eyes studying your figure for long moment. You took the moment to step around him and head towards your bedroom. “Come along, I’ll show you.”

Despite not hearing any pitter patter of feet, you felt his huge presence behind you. Like a shadow. You showed him into your room. It wasn’t much. But it was your space that you enjoyed. Yet, here you were, about to share it with someone else. Someone not even your own species.

One of your hands motioned towards the bed. “There’s the bed. I’ll go and grab some more blankets for you. It’ll… be really cold.” The sun was gone far below the horizon. There was no heat to share from the outdoors. It was all on the two of you to survive.

His bright eyes watched as you scurry into the hallway. Though, you wanted to be away from the scrutiny of his powerful gaze, you were swift to get armfuls of blankets. The night won’t be forgiving. Heat was essential to staying alive in a place like this. You didn’t know if he understood that or not. It wasn’t like he needed to be wrapped up in twenty blankets. He was a furnace himself.

All the blankets were tossed onto the bed into a pile. Then, you turned towards him. “I… uh, hope this is fine. It’ll be too cold out in the living room for me.” You really hoped he didn’t kick you out of your room. Not when the temperature could slowly drain you of your warmth.

Dai’stbaen merely shrugged before climbing onto the bed gingerly. You followed suit and wrapped yourself up in the blankets. Though this was your bed, you laid there straight as a rod and stared up at the ceiling.

This was going to be a long night.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x you #yautja x human #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #Dai'stbaen

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seospicybin · 2 months ago

Text

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE.

ROUND 2

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Related chapters: Round 1

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen. (10,3k words)

Author's note: I just thought that we need to play another round. Hope you had fun reading this x

Content warning: Infidelity.

Let's play another round of two truths and a lie where Minho shares three things about him and you have to guess which one is the lie.

Here goes the first thing about Minho: He is good in the kitchen.

That's the first thing Kim told you about Minho, he is good in the kitchen and that explains why you often find him in there, cooking meals or something his girlfriend, Kim, asked him to make, sometimes it's something as simple as fried rice to something as complex as beef wellington, he can do it all. In conclusion, his cooking skill is unquestionable.

Just like this morning, the first thing you see as you come out of your bedroom is Minho making something in the kitchen. Before he notices, you slowly tiptoe your way back to your bedroom and reach for the doorknob to—

"Morning!" Kim cheerily says as she comes out of her bedroom.

You instantly turn around on your feet and pretend that you've just come out of your bedroom. From her attire, you can tell that she's going for her morning run.

"Morning, Kim!" You say back with a smile, "Going for a run?"

"Yep. Minho is making pancakes," she answers as she ties her hair into a ponytail, "Have to burn some calories so I can eat more calories."

As a dancer, Kim diligently watches her weight but instead of getting on a rigorous diet, she prefers working out even though her job, dancing, is also working out, and she only spoils herself with a sweet treat on the weekend. She's heading to the kitchen to give Minho a quick peck on the lips and then puts her headphones on.

"I'll see you guys in a bit," she says before walking out the door.

Leaving you and Minho alone in the apartment is not a good idea but how can she know when you've been doing things behind her back?

Since he's already seen you, you may as well start your day, by going to the kitchen and getting yourself a cup of coffee, you just need to get the milk from the fridge, then you'll be out of Minho's way.

As you keep the fridge door open to put the milk back inside, Minho appears behind you and reaches for a carton of eggs from the fridge, his forearm brushes your waist as he retracts his hand.

You quickly step away and take the other end of the kitchen counter, stirring your coffee with a spoon while looking at the weather outside, at the sunlit clouds drifting across a clear blue sky.

"Can you hand me the sugar?" Minho points at the bowl of sugar in your reach.

"Sure," you say, picking it up and placing it on the kitchen counter next to him.

You're going to the other side of the kitchen counter and take a small sip of your coffee, you can sense the caffeine works to bring your brain to function. At the same time, your sense heightens that you know Minho is coming behind you to put the jar of sugar back into its place.

However, when he retracts his arm, his hand stays on your waist and it stays there, making you wonder what he's trying to do next so you turn your head to the side.

In the blink of an eye, Minho quickly captures your lips in a kiss and wraps his arms tightly around you. Your body is quick to respond to it but your brain is working at a sluggish pace.

By the time your brain catches up to it and tells you to stop, Minho already has his hand under your camisole and fondles at your breast.

"Minho..." you whine against his lips.

He breaks the kiss and stares into your eyes, "What?"

It's at the tip of your tongue and your mouth is open but no words coming out of it. Deep down, you know you want it and you don't want it to stop.

Instead of saying what you want out loud, you curve your arm around his neck and pull his head close for a kiss, picking it up and taking it up a notch.

With his free hand, Minho pushes your camisole upward, sending it hunched around your chest and exposing your breasts to the cool morning air.

He wastes no time to freely cup your breast in his hand and he likes how it fits him right, making him think that they were made just for him.

There's not much room for you to move with his arms firmly wrapped around you but when his hand glides down to cup your clothed sex, you start to push back against him and feel his bulge growing behind you.

Your common sense comes in ebbs and flows, and when it finally hits you, you suddenly pull his hand out of your shorts and break away from his hold.

"Kim will be back soon," you remind him with your voice tinted with concern.

Minho puts his hands on each side of your waist and makes you lean against the kitchen counter, "She won't be back for a while," he calmly says.

He then buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, peeling back the layers of worry off of you with every kiss he planted there.

All of a sudden, you find the guts to put your hands on his chest and push him a little too hard it sends him staggering a couple of steps to the back.

No matter how far you push him away, your body wants to be as close as possible to him. You find yourself walking back to him and taking your turn to corner him against the kitchen counter.

He's wearing this plain white t-shirt but gosh, it looks good on him and you like it even more when you can trace the muscles on his body through the fabric.

"But we don't know for sure," you say, leaning in for a kiss which he eagerly returns and makes him ask for more.

However, it's the grey sweatpants he's wearing that make you lose your mind a little. It's unclear whether it's the fabric or the color or the style of the pants that somehow accentuate the shape of his cock, or the way he walks around in the apartment in it and unaware of what it does to you.

You quietly pull his sweatpants low enough to let his member free out of its confine and without looking, your hand knows what it's looking for and immediately wrap your hand around it, slowly stroking it.

"For all we know, she may be back in a few minutes," you say against his lips.

Minho is engrossed in how you're slowly stroking his cock as you speak, it takes him a while to respond to your question.

"She won't," he assures you, pulling you close by the waist and putting his hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through your shorts.

"She's been gone for fifteen minutes now," you say before he has your lips locked with his again.

"Then we just have to make it quick," he simply resolves, lifting you by the waist, and swiftly, he turns around on his feet to sit you on the counter.

As a dancer, he is trained to lift his partner and he does it seamlessly as if he's lifting a piece of paper. Well, he has the muscles to prove his years-long dance training.

"Minho, we can't," you say as he leans in to kiss your neck.

Instead of stopping him from coming at your breasts, you hold them up for him so he can take them into his mouth.

He sucks on the flesh hard that you wince in pain and he lets go with a satisfied grin, "we definitely can," he coyly disagrees.

"What I'm saying is—" you pause as he parts your legs open, sending you leaning to the back and you quickly prop a hand to support you.

Minho tugs his hands at the elastic band of your pajama shorts and thinking of taking it off of you, you scramble to stop him.

"Just put it to the side," you tell him.

He obeys your words, putting the shorts along with your underwear to the side. He delightfully sighs at the sight of your heating core and he uses his fingers to feel how wet you are for him.

"I can't stop when you're this wet for me," he mutters as he swipes your lips with his fingers coated with your essence, then shoves it into his mouth next.

Feeling challenged to do the same, you lick your lips and get a taste of you on your tongue, you taste so sinfully sweet as the kiss he's about to plant on you.

While his lips keep you busy with kisses, Minho aligns his cock with your entrance, he rubs his tip between your folds then with a slow push, he starts to enter you.

The kiss breaks as the two of you shift your focus on how his cock pushing its way inside you. You spread your legs as wide as possible and watch as his cock is slowly disappearing into you.

Minho curves his hands around you and then glides them down until his hands meet the curve of your ass, he pulls you close, seeking closeness as he's about to fully bottomed out inside you.

"And I can't stop when you feel this good," he says as he crashes his lips against yours again.

The room soon filled with your low moans combined with the sounds of his hips against the back of your thighs. His nails dig into the flesh as he steadily keeps your legs open for him.

Even with your brain clouded with pleasure, a slight of fear comes creeping up in you and makes you keep looking to the side, in the direction of the foyer, and the fact that Kim can come in any minute now.

"Minho," you breathlessly call in between your moans.

You continue talking when you have his attention by putting your hand on his neck, "We can't keep doing this to Kim."

"I know," he says with a small nod, "it's unfair to her."

And it's unfair how he tries to take your mind away from things by suddenly adding intensity to his thrusts and going as shallow as possible inside you.

"Uh-huh, it's unfair," you repeat your words, suddenly losing all the words in your head.

Minho pulls you even closer until you're sitting on the edge of the counter while keeping the pace steady, he lets go of your legs and wraps his arms around you instead. He looks down at his cock slipping in and out of you then when his eyes find you, he intensely stares into your eyes as if he dares you to try to stop him again.

The truth is you're just a human who tends to make the same mistakes and above all that, you're just a girl who wants what she wants and in this moment, you want nothing else but him.

The grip on his shoulder tightens as you come to your climax, your moans turn into breathless whines and you bury your head in his neck.

Yet Minho keeps going and chasing for his high as your walls pulsate and flutter around him, all of those stimulations combined with the fear that Kim may walk in on you and him doing it in the kitchen only arouses him more.

"Don't cum inside," you whisper into his ear.

Now that you said it, it only makes him want to do it and he plans on ignoring those words.

You crumple the front of his t-shirt in your hand and force him to look you in the eyes, "Minho, you can't cum inside," you warn again.

Hearing the urgency in your voice, Minho refrains from doing it and wisely follows your words.

"Where do you want it then?" He asks, suddenly getting curious about your answer.

"My mouth," you shortly answer because it's the only way to make sure to leave no trace of this abomination. No trace means you can pretend that this never happened.

Minho stops moving for a second, unsure if he heard you right. You put your hand on his neck and say again, "You can cum in my mouth."

What you said seems to trigger something inside of him that he continues thrusting into you harder and faster, not caring that you've just cum around him a while ago which only make you even more sensitive than before.

You let him have it because this is the only way you know that'll bring him closer to his release. Also, you don't know how long this has been going on but you know that you don't have much left before Kim comes back.

All of a sudden, Minho puts his arms around your waist and steadily hoists you against him. You immediately wrap your legs around him and your arms around his shoulders.

"Oh..." a raw groan escapes his mouth as he lets go just a little and feels his cock deepens inside you as you cling to him.

The two of you stay still like that for a moment, encased in endless pleasure and palpable desire for each other that it feels like the slightest movement would break the spell.

Sadly, time isn't on your side.

You slowly let go of your hold around him, forcing Minho to put you down gently until your feet touch the floor and eventually, he has to pull out of you, making you feel the sudden emptiness.

You kneel on the floor as he incessantly pumps his cock to keep the stimulation going. You can see his cock, all red and veiny inches away from your eyes as you offer your mouth for him to dump his load.

Seeing him from this point of view surely feels new to you but not less arousing, you can see his forehead wrinkled with how much he focuses on chasing his release.

The most arousing part is the way he's looking down on you, seeing how much you want his cum in your mouth and he's the only one who can give it to you.

"Wider," he murmurs through his gritted teeth.

Also added is the fact that he is someone's boyfriend, oh, everything about it is arousing you so much that your hand flies to your cunt, touching yourself as you obey his word. While maintaining eye contact with him, you open your mouth wider and stick your tongue out a little, waiting for him to shoot his load on you like a bitch in heat.

The second his cum spurts out of his tip and lands on you, you gasp at how hot it feels on your skin. You close your eyes and keep your mouth open as more of his cum gets on your tongue, your lips, and all over your mouth.

Using the tip of his sock, Minho smears his pearly white cum all over your lips, tempting you to put it into your mouth and of course, you cave into the temptation. You give his tip a few kitten licks before taking his length little by little, you compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand.

"Oh..." he delightfully sighs with his head thrown back.

To see him fully indulging in it and hearing him moaning on pleasure encourages you to keep going, sucking him hard and syncing it with the pumping of your hand around the base of his cock.

"Oh, yes, keep going," he mutters to you with his voice soft and sultry.

He puts his hand in your hair and tugs at it, using it to angle your head slightly to the back to provide him more depth as he gently pushes a little more of his cock into your mouth.

"Fu..." his profanity trails off and turns into a breathless moan as he slowly begins thrusting his cock in and out of you.

You're aware that he's using your mouth for his pleasure and you don't mind any of it, if anything, it makes you want to touch yourself more. You allow yourself to do just that, rubbing on your clothed clit as Minho is fucking your mouth.

"Mmh..." you moan with your mouth full of his hot, swollen flesh.

"Oh, you and your fucking mouth," he mutters with a low breath, his eyes intently watching how you're taking every thrust of his cock into your mouth.

For a split second, you forget about Kim until you hear the sound of the front door opening and then closing. You're about to pull out but Minho's grip on the back of your head forces you to remain still.

Your heart starts pounding inside your chest as you hear her footsteps coming closer and she stops just on the other side of the counter where you remain hidden on this side with her boyfriend's cock deep in your throat.

"Oh, it's so hot today," Kim says, still panting from running. You hear her pouring water into a glass and then the sounds of her heartily gulping it.

Minho remains calm and puts his free hand on the counter, "Yeah, you sweat a lot, honey," he says.

There's a low thud of what you assume coming from Kim putting her glass down, "And where are my pancakes?"

"I want it to be hot when you're having it," he simply answers.

"Well then, I'm going to wash my face, and my hands and I'll be ready for pancakes," Kim says.

You can only imagine how she smiles brightly at him when she said it, oblivious to the fact that her roommate is sucking her boyfriend's cock as she speaks.

"They better be good," she adds as she walks away.

You start to relax when you hear her footsteps receding, then you hear the sound of the door being opened and then closed after.

Minho finally lets go of his dead grip on the back of your head and you immediately pull out, a little too fast that you choke on your saliva, sending you into a coughing fit.

You rise from the floor, fixing your clothes as you head to the sink to wipe the mess on your mouth with the running water.

It has just sunken into you of what you did with Minho, the guilt hits you like a ton of brick and it tastes bitter on your tongue no matter how much you rinse it with water.

"Are you okay, babe?" Kim asks you as she comes into the kitchen.

Her presence makes you choke on water this time, you grab a bunch of tissues from the box and wipe your mouth with it.

"I'm okay," you answer, "I'm just choked on something."

Without looking, you can feel Minho's sly smirk from across the kitchen counter. It's best if you exclude yourself from this to avoid any slips out.

"Where are you going?" Kim asks you, she drags a stool and pats it, "Come sit and eat pancakes with me!"

"No, I have something—"

"What do you possibly need to do on a Sunday morning?" She asks with a pout.

"Come on, take a seat!" She says, excitedly patting the seat and inviting you to sit next to her.

If you persist on leaving, she'll only get suspicious of you so you relent, sitting on the stool next to her while holding your cup of coffee.

On the other hand, Minho did his part too well. He acts like nothing happened and successfully makes pancakes for both you and Kim.

"You want cream with that, honey?" He asks Kim but his eyes wander your way for a second.

"No, thank you," Kim politely refuses, "but I'll have the syrups."

Minho wastes no time to get it for her from the kitchen cabinet and gives it to her. He then takes a tube of whipped cream and gives it a shake.

"Extra cream for you then," he says to you as he places creams on top of your pancakes and flashes you a faint smirk that only you can see.

Unable to respond to it with words, you stab the pancakes with your fork and have a bite at it, hate to admit it but it tastes good.

Well then this makes the first statement a truth: Minho is indeed good in the kitchen.

This is it, you say in your head as the bell in your head goes ding!

The apartment may be much smaller than Kim's but it has everything you need, a bedroom, an adequate space to be called a living room, and a fully functioning kitchen. The only downside is it's a farther commute to work but the affordable rent makes up for it and that's the most important thing.

"Are you going to take it?" Gaspard asks as he floats through the crowd like a divine being among mortals.

"I have to take it," you answer while trying to keep up with his long strides, "It's the best offer."

"I think so too," he says, putting his arm around you so you don't stray away from him.

"Yeah?"

He nods, "Cause then you'll be living only a few blocks away from me."

"Oh? You know what? I change my mind," you jokingly say, turning around to walk in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" He holds you back and steers you to the right way by the shoulders, "No turning back now!'

About a week ago, you made it very clear to Gaspard that you want to stay as good friends with him but it's easy to tell that he still believes this can be more than that. That leads you to act careful around him because you're scared that he's mistaken it for something else.

"Aren't you going to invite me upstairs?" He playfully asks as you both stand outside the apartment building.

"Better luck next time," You joke back with a gentle push on his chest.

"Not even for a can of beer?" He sweetly blinks his eyes at you in the hope that will be enough to persuade you.

"Just one!" You cave in because he's been helping you with the apartment hunting and you've been walking around since this afternoon until the day turns dark.

"Just one," he repeats your words in agreement.

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

The apartment is empty because Kim and Minho are out on a date which makes it a convenient time to enjoy a cold drink after a day's hard work.

"Where's Kim?" Gaspard asks as you join him on the sofa.

"I think they're going to the movies or something," you mindless answer, you couldn't care less about what they're doing on a date.

The two of you get quiet after taking a long gulp of beer and gasp at how refreshing it is like you didn't just have it with dinner earlier.

"I reckon you're going to break the news to Kim soon?" Gaspard asks as he leans back on the sofa with his head turned at you.

"Well... yeah," you meekly answer and it reminds you how of you're not ready for that part yet.

"How do you think she'll react?" He asks as he secretly puts his arm around your shoulders.

"I don't know," you sigh, then take a sip of your beer, "I just hope that she knows that the reason has nothing to do with her."

"What's the reason then?" Gaspard asks for the first time and seems to be genuinely curious about the answer.

It feels like you're trapped by your own words, you know the reason but you can't tell him or anyone for that matter.

"Because I want to live close to you," you decide to risk getting it mistaken for something else instead of letting him in on the answer.

With the hand around your shoulders, Gaspard easily pulls you close until you're sitting elbow to elbow and bumping knees with him on the sofa.

"Have I told you you looked beautiful today?" He seduces you as he's brushing your hair to the side.

"Not enough," you jokingly answer.

Gaspard leans in to whisper it to you right into your ear, "You're so beautiful," he mutters then kisses on the cheek.

"Thank you," you sweetly say with a smile.

Catching you off guard, he places one more kiss on the other cheek and pulls away with a big smile on his face. Well, you've done your part to spare him from the disappointment so it's not your fault that he puts himself back on the track for it.

"You promised it was going to be just one beer," you scold him along with a sassy eye roll.

"And I'm not finished with my beer yet," he cleverly answers.

The front door flies open and Kim comes into sight, finding you and Gaspard snuggling close together on the sofa. She smiles at you and puts down her bag on the dining table.

"What do we have here?" She asks with a sly smile.

"Nothing. We're just drinking beers," you calmly answer while quietly putting a safe space between you and Gaspard on the sofa.

"Yeah, I'm just here for one beer," Gaspard says, emphasizing the amount of beer with a sly grin flashed your way.

"And he'll leave soon," you add, returning the sly grin to him.

Taking this as a sign to give you privacy so you can break the news to Kim, Gaspard says, "And I'm leaving."

"No. Stay," Kim says as she sits on the sofa next to you.

"I can only bother you this much, Kim," he jokingly says and comes at you for a hug, "I'll see my way out."

"Thanks for today," you say as you hug him back.

You wait until Gaspard leaves to talk to Kim about what you did today and that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon. You finish your beer to fuel your courage and quietly exhale air to calm yourself down.

"Kim, I need to talk to you about something," you start.

Kim brushes her long dark hair and rests it on her shoulder like a waterfall, "Mmh? What is it?" She asks.

Now, that you have her attention and no one else is here except for the two of you, this is the right time to tell her. You open your mouth and plan to just give it to her all at once until Minho comes through the front door.

"Where do you want me to put it?" He asks Kim, showing the plastic bag he's carrying in his hand.

"Can you put them in the fridge for me, honey?" Kim answers.

"Sure," he shortly answers, going to the kitchen to do what Kim asked him to do.

"I ran out of my fiber drinks," she says, explaining what she made Minho bought for her.

"Ah, I see..." you meekly respond, losing every word you've been carefully arranging in your head so you abort the plan to tell her about the apartment situation.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" She asks with a soft smile on her face, making you feel even more disheartened to tell her.

"Oh, I..." you feel tempted to just let it all out but your eyes keep uneasily glancing at Minho and you don't want him there to hear it.

"I forgot what I'm trying to say to you. Sorry," you lie and add a foolish laugh to convince her.

Kim seems to buy it as she cracks a laugh and gently slaps your knee, "You silly!"

"I'll tell you once I remember it," you say to her.

Or more like, when Minho isn't around.

Two days have passed with Kim is still oblivious that you'll be moving out of the apartment soon.

You always missed each other's timing, when you had the time, Kim was in a hurry to go to the academy and when she was alone at home, you were working late that night. It's like a mysterious force trying to hold you back from telling her the truth.

When you came home from work tonight, you found Kim eating dinner alone in the kitchen. To make sure that Minho isn't around or coming unannounced like usual, you simply ask why she is by herself when her boyfriend always drives her home and usually stays to have dinner together.

"Minho's car broke down so I took a taxi home," Kim answers with a low sigh.

"Oh, that's upsetting," you keep your expression in check as you say it, not risking Kim catching you turn his misfortune into an opportunity.

"It's about time he sends his car to the shop anyway," Kim says.

It's unethical to interrupt her in the middle of her dinner so you carefully pick your timing and wait until she's done with her dinner to talk.

You grab a can of juice from the fridge and take a seat next to her, "Kim, can I talk to you about something?" you hesitantly say.

"Sure, babe," she says, putting down her glass of water then stacks her hands together on the dining table, "What is it?"

"A week ago, I found a suitable apartment not far from Gaspard's. It's not as big as this..." you gulp air to be able to continue talking, "It's in a nice neighborhood and the rent is affordable so I'm thinking of moving in there."

A moment passes in silence as Kim processes your words, her fingers wrapped around the bottom of her glass and tapping at it.

"You want to move out?" She asks as the glints in her eyes slightly dim.

"Yes," you hesitantly say.

"I reckon it's about time that I get my own place," you hurriedly add the number one reason why you want to move out so she doesn't think that it has anything to do with her.

"It's not because of me, right?" She meekly asks.

"No," you answer without a beat, "I love being your roommate but you know... I can't stay here forever. I eventually have to move out."

"Nonsense! You definitely can stay here forever," Kim remarks as she grabs your hand on your lap.

You put your hand on hers and softly smile at her, "I'd love to but..."

You can't keep living with her knowing you've been betraying her and the guilt is eating you alive from the inside as you speak? You continue in your head.

"It's either now or later, it's something that I have to do," you settle on a reasonable answer.

"That's true," Kim weakly says, looking a little taken aback by your announcement.

"I'm sorry if this is so sudden. I didn't mean to keep it this long, we were so busy these past few days that I only got the chance to tell you now," you explain with utmost sincerity.

Kim nods and puts on a smile for you, "it's okay. I understand."

Your heart is getting heavy the more you talk, you'd better end it before the guilt gets to you and you're giving it the chance to crawl out of you. You grab your purse, rummaging through the content for the envelope you've been putting aside and planning to give to Kim.

"This is for this month's rent," you hand the envelope straight into her hand.

She folds it in half and puts the envelope back into your hand, "Take it. You need it for moving and buying stuff for your new apartment.

"No, Kim. I can't. It's yours!" You forcefully put it back into her hand but she balls her hand into a fist.

"Consider this as an early housewarming gift," she insists, holding your hand down to make you stop giving the envelope back to her.

"Kim, no... I shouldn't—" You sigh in defeat, having no other way to make her accept your money.

"I'm going to miss you," Kim's voice cracks, and the next thing you know, she's hugging you so tightly that you can feel how much she meant her words.

"Oh, Kim, you can't get rid of me yet," you playfully say to lighten up the mood, "at least, for the next three weeks."

This is why you have to move out soon, Kim is too kind and all you do in return is use her kindness to fool her and stab her in the back, you've been treating her like a shit friend, and you feel sick have to keep doing that to her.

This is statement number two: Minho knows that he's the reason why.

There's this gut feeling that something is going to happen. This could be just a reaction to the change you'll face soon, new apartment, new neighborhood, there'll be no Kim, and the realization that you'll do everything on your own at that point.

It's scary and exciting, you feel a little bit of both at times. One thing that always lingers inside you is this slight fear that Minho possibly knows he's the reason why you decide to move out.

A week went by and you can safely assume that Kim must have told Minho about the apartment situation. You swear you're not expecting anything at all from Minho, but he's been strangely normal and taciturn which only confirms that something is actually off about him.

You should be taking this as an advantage because then you wouldn't have to interact with him and fewer interactions lead to you making fewer mistakes with him.

Work has been keeping you busy too that you haven't had the chance to pack your things. When you come home late tonight, Kim is already sleeping and you don't want to bother her by the sound of you shoving your things into boxes.

Well, you still have a week left anyway to sort your things out and you're tired from work, you hurriedly make your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

In the midst of it, you hear the knocking on the door and your first thought is that Kim must be in urgency to use the bathroom.

"Kim?" You call but there's no answer

You turn off the shower and put on a bathrobe, you carefully walk as water drips down your body and hair to open the door.

"Is that you..." your words trail off as you see who's coming into the bathroom and it's not Kim.

There was no sign that Minho was in the apartment when you walked in because you could tell from the sight of his shoes in the foyer or his bag that sits in the living room so unless he has the ability to become invisible, it means that he came just now to the apartment.

Gosh! You tried so hard to avoid temptation and now it's coming to get you. You're clutching your bathrobe together and head to the door.

"You can use the bathroom," you say without looking at him.

He grabs you by the elbow to stop you from leaving, he pulls you hard enough that your body crashes against him, then wraps his arms around you.

"I heard you're moving out," he says.

You break away from his hold and put his hands away from you, "not your business," you say.

Minho is quick to catch your hands by the wrist then he folds them together behind your back, making you unable to move as he leans in to kiss you.

You turn your head to the side, not letting him kiss you but instead of doing that, he steers your body to the back until your back meets the bathroom sink.

"Is it because of me?" He asks.

You scoff and make a mocking smirk at him, "Not everything is about you, Minho," you say, daringly staring into his dark brown eyes.

Catching you off guard, Minho crashes his lips against you and you hate that you instinctively return his kiss. He pulls away for a bit then plants his lips on yours again, deeper and hungrier than before.

Getting a moment of clarity, you pull away from the kiss and keep your head turned away from him, "We can't keep doing this to Kim," you remark.

He leans in close until his face is only inches away from yours, "So you admit that it's because of me?"

There's no way of denying it anymore so you may as well just admit it, "You made me do this and I don't—"

He cuts you off with a kiss and you have to pull your head back hard enough to break it, "I hate myself for it and I hate you for making me keep doing this to Kim," you bravely tell him right to his face.

He leans in even closer so that you can see the dark orbs of his eyes, "Tell that to me once again," he dares you.

This is the time to break away from this cycle that shackles you with guilt, you should stop now before all this guilt weighs you down and drown you further.

"I hate you, Minho," you unequivocally tell him with unwavering eyes.

Minho intensely stares into your eyes to see if your words match what you're feeling inside. His eyes flick down to your lips, tempted to lean in for another but when his lips make contact with yours, he changes his mind.

He lets go of his hold on you all at once and then takes a step back, exiting the room and leaving you untethered for good.

It seems like what you've said to him has done it because Minho acts like you're not even there whenever you're in the same space with him and this morning, you find yourself in the kitchen with him just quietly minding your own business.

This is good, right? That means there'll be no more mistakes, no more betraying Kim and you can start being a good friend again. The best thing of all, you get to move out of the apartment on a good note.

"Hey, you're not working late tonight, right?" Kim asks as you're enjoying your morning coffee.

"I hope not," you say, putting down your half-eaten toast on the plate, "Cause I have lots to do tomorrow."

Kim nods and pours herself a glass of orange juice, "Since this will be your last night in an apartment, I'm hoping that we can have dinner together," she says with a smile.

She walks up to Minho and places her hand on the small of his back, "Minho will be cooking, of course, and I'll get a nice bottle of wine for—"

You quickly swallow your food to refuse the idea, "Oh, no, Kim, please, I don't feel good—"

She clicks her tongue at you and shakes her head, "No, you can't say no. I'll be waiting for you to come home whether you like it or not," she insists.

Maybe it's coming from the fact that she comes from a privileged family, Kim can be quite adamant about certain things, especially when she wants something, in one way or another, she has to get it.

The whole time at work, you're debating whether to make an excuse to avoid attending dinner or just gladly accept Kim's kind gesture and come to the dinner, the latter is what a good friend would do, right?

On the way home, you purposely missed the trains a couple of times before finally getting in. You're dreading it because Minho is cooking dinner and that means he'll be there for it, and this is worse than doing things behind Kim's back because you have to act innocent in front of her.

At the door of the apartment, you take a few deep breaths with your hand holding the doorknob. You console yourself with the thought that you'll only have to endure it for one more night and all this will disappear tomorrow.

"I'm home," you announce your arrival and try your best to sound cheerful as you make your way inside.

As expected, Kim is sitting at the dining table with Minho and it seems like they started without you as you see the glasses of wine.

"Oh, there you are!" Kim claps her hands together in delight.

"I'm sorry. The train was delayed for almost an hour," you make up an excuse for your tardiness while putting down your bag on the kitchen counter and head to the kitchen sink to wash your hands.

"I hope you don't mind that we almost finished the first bottle without you," Kim says.

"I don't mind at all," you say as you dry your hand with a napkin.

As you take a seat at the dining table, Minho gets up his seat and heads to the kitchen. You can't tell if that's intentional or not, but you remind yourself to not give an ounce of care to whatever he's doing.

"Minho only needs to reheat the sauce and dinner will be ready," Kim says as she fills your glass with red wine and the aphrodisiac smell wafting around in the room.

"Thank you," You smile in gratitude and take a small sip of it.

"So, how was work?"

"Dreadful," you shortly answer and reward yourself with another sip.

Kim cracks a laugh and something about it gives you the impression that she's rather a little intoxicated already.

"I'm sorry that I can't help you move out tomorrow," she says as she pours more wine into her glass which you deem is not a smart move.

"That's more than fine," you respond, "I heard from Gaspard you guys have started practicing for the winter show."

"Oh, yeah..." she softly says and then gets lost in her words for a second.

"We're doing The Nutcracker, again," she says with a dramatic pause.

"That sounds fun!" You nicely respond.

"You should come on the opening day, I'll send the ticket," she enthusiastically says and sips her wine.

"Only if you come to my little housewarming party," you meekly say even though you're not sure you know how to throw a party of any kind.

"That's a deal!" She says, clinking her glass of wine with you to seal the deal.

The mouthwatering smell has taken over the room as Minho serves the food on the table, he's cooking pasta and a big steak to share which he has sliced, showing off the perfect level of cooking doneness.

"This is delicious, honey," Kim praises after taking a bite of it, she then turns to look at you, "What do you think?"

"This is really good," you compliment because, despite everything, you can't deny that he's a good cook which also reminds you to thank him for it.

"Thank you for cooking dinner, Minho," you say even though his name feels dry and strange on your tongue.

He only nods and doesn't say anything but put more food on Kim's plate, and you can't lie that you feel a little dejected by his lack of reaction.

The dinner would be a big awkward moment if Kim wasn't leading ninety percent of the conversation on the table but as the night goes on and more wine dawned in, Kim starts to slur her words and mindlessly rambles about random things all at once. It gets to the point that she accidentally knocks things off, first it was her glass of wine and then, a pitcher of water that is now flooding the dining table.

"Kim, I think it's time for bed," you kindly say.

She brushes her hair away and sniffles, "But it's your last night here."

"We'll still be seeing each other tomorrow," you console her.

She cracks a smile and then snorts, "That's right."

Minho is quick to offer himself to carry her to bed but before she comes into his arms, Kim crashes herself into you and hugs you so tightly.

"You're the best roommate I've ever had," she mumbles with her head buried in your neck.

You put your arms around her to return her hug and gently pat her back, "That's so sweet of you, Kim."

"And I'm not saying that because you're the only roommate I've ever had, I genuinely love having you here," she says, pausing to inhale air.

"it's going to be so weird coming home and you're not here," she adds with a sniffle.

You can't bring yourself to check whether she's crying or not because if she does, there's a big chance you'll cry too. Instead, you look at Minho to let him know this is why you can't hurt her anymore.

All of a sudden, Kim breaks away from the hug and runs to Minho, she lets him take her to the bedroom. You watch as they get inside and close the door behind them.

After cleaning up the dining table and doing the dishes, you can finally go to your bedroom, being with yourself for the first time after a long, eventful day.

The room is bare since you have packed everything into boxes and you're standing there wondering how your life fits in those boxes. It gets you all sentimental as you feel like you're going on a new path in life.

The moment gets interrupted as you notice through the reflection in the mirror that Minho is coming into your room. Before you can stop him, he barges in and crashes his body against yours, lips instantly locked with yours as if they're two opposites of the magnet.

"Minho..." you sadly whine against his lips.

When you look into his eyes though, you just can't find it in you to resist him anymore so you give in and let tonight be another mistake.

Just one more mistake, you tell yourself.

Minho likes it when you're saying one thing but your body does the opposite. He's holding you close from behind and his hand is down south, fingers playing with your clit before he pushes one digit inside you, making you shut your legs together in reaction.

"We can't do this," you mutter against his lips.

He's expecting you to say that at one point but not this early in the night and not when he's just started. He presses his mouth into your ear and whispers, "Fight back harder if you don't want this."

There are so many ways for you to tell him off, you can break away from his hold, you can push him away and close the door right on his face but you do want this, he can see in the mirror how you liked being touched all over and how you like two fingers instead of one inside you.

"Oh..." you shakily moan as he enters two digits into you now.

Minho can feel it blooming under his touch and how wet you are for him, how your body wants more of him despite all of your efforts to stop him.

And you know what? He wants you just as much if not more.

He starts undressing you, taking every piece of clothing off of you as eager as a child unwrapping his Christmas present, and then gently, he lays you down on the end of the bed.

You look up at him with your eyes wide and flickering with desire, "Let's stop here, I let you—"

There you go with your empty warning again, he shuts you off with a kiss, "There's no way I can hold back," he says to you.

Impatient, he rips open his shirt and tosses it aside before kneeling at the end of the bed to indulge in your pool of arousal. Your moans begin to fill the room and in the mirror, he can see you try to muffle it by covering your mouth with your hand.

Minho can't get over how wet you are for him and he wants to keep it that way as he has lots of things he wants to do to you.

He gets up from the floor and quickly gets rid of his jeans next, then wastes no time to walk up to you. He takes your legs by the ankles, lifting them and holding them close to his chest, and then slowly, he parts them open.

Oh, the sight of your wet flushed cunt will never cease to arouse him. His head gets dizzy just from looking at it and it starts spinning as you put your hand around his cock.

"Fuck!" He curses under his breath as you bring his cock and rub it between your folds, making him more impatient to be inside you.

His patience wears thin and he puts his focus on aligning it with your entrance.

"Minho, I told you we can't— oh..." you loudly moan as you feel his cock penetrates you and stop talking as he pushes the rest in a painstakingly slow motion to make sure you feel every inch of his length stretching you.

"Doesn't this feel way too good?" He says as he deeply stares into your eyes.

He doesn't need to hear you say it, he knows because you feel too good around him too. He is steadily holding your legs on each side of his waist as he starts thrusting into you.

Minho can't decide whether he should watch his cock slipping in and out of you or watch how much you're enjoying it, quietly moaning while tugging your fingers between your teeth.

One thing he knows what to do is to make this last as long as possible, he stops when he knows you're closing in on your high.

"Oh," you sigh as he pulls out of you and swiftly, turns you over on the bed.

Now, he has you lying on your stomach and he grips your waist, raising it a little higher to give him just the right angle to enter you from behind.

You whine as you feel him full again and he's lowering himself on top of you, he's propping his elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Minho puts his hand around your neck and slightly tilts your head to the back to land a kiss on your lips. He can feel the blood rushing in your veins with his hand wrapped around your neck.

"Minho, let's stop this already," you whine.

Despite his cock buried deep inside you, you still find it in you to try to stop him. He kisses you hard and deep as if he's trying to strip all of your senses away.

"Shut up!" He tells you, "You don't even want to stop."

From the way you close your mouth is enough to tell him that you have no response to that but he knows now that he needs to fuck all these worries out of you.

Minho does all of that, he's fucking you with all his might, he watches how your face contorted in pleasure, how your hands are crumpling the sheet under you as he picks up the pace.

"Minho..." you breathlessly call.

Before you can say anything to stop him again, he grabs your chin and makes you see your reflection in the mirror, "Look at that!"

He waits until you open your eyes and see yourself in the mirror as he asks you, "Does it look like you want me to stop?"

Fucking you good isn't enough, he needs to fuck you hard enough that you forget everything else except for this moment where only you and him exist in this sinful tryst.

"If you keep going, I'm going to come," you whine between your moans.

Minho takes that as a sign that he's heading the right way but rather than adding speed to his thrusts, he slows down his pace and allows himself to melt onto you, putting his body on yours, placing kisses all over your shoulder and neck until his lips find their way back to yours.

There's no way he's finishing this without seeing your face when it's everything he wanted the most from it, seeing how fucked out you are that you can't find words to say.

After turning you over on the bed, he takes a moment to let his eyes lust over your body and then he runs his hand all over you, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips. He's using his mouth next to suck on your breasts and his tongue to play with your nipples.

All these times, he's been good by not doing it but the urge to mark you is getting unbearable so he does it, sucking on your ample flesh hard enough that he knows it's going to leave a mark.

"Ow..." you yelp in pain but it comes out as a mewl as you try to keep your noises on the low.

Minho settles himself between your legs, burying his head once again in your wetness to prepare you for what comes next. You're whining and moaning, sometimes, it's a mix of both and it's resounding in the room.

He starts to believe that you forgot about his girlfriend sleeping in the bedroom across the room, he puts it to the test by sucking on your clit which earned a loud moan for you. He's right, you forgot about it until a while later, and you hurriedly cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

He gets impatient all over again when it comes to entering you, he can only hold himself back so much and his self-control is wearing thin. He's lowly groaning as he pushes himself back into you, feeling your tight walls welcoming him.

"How are you feel so good every damn time, mmh?" He asks in disbelief with a rough kiss on your lips.

The sex feels so much better than the previous and if he could, he is just wanting to keep doing it with you because it doesn't feel like with other people, including his girlfriend of almost three years.

He watches as your eyes fluttering open and shut, and breathless moans spilling out of your parted mouth, overwhelmed by what he's doing to you.

"Look at you! Making lewd moans for me," he mutters with an intense gaze directed toward you.

He brushes your hair away from your face and kisses your open mouth, "Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

You lick your lips and look at him through your half-shut eyes, "I hate— oh..."

He launches his cock deeper inside you, not letting you finish your sentence, and keeps the intensity of his thrusts to distract you.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" You manage to repeatedly say and Minho roughly thrusts into you every time you say it.

"That doesn't sound convincing," he mockingly says, pretending like it doesn't affect him when in fact, it does.

"I hate you and I hate your guts," you say with your body shaking from how hard he's fucking you and your breasts jiggling along to it.

The hate somehow encourages him to keep going, he's letting go of himself and letting his body take care of the rest. He doesn't need to worry about you, he knows you are on the brink of—

"Oh, my—" You let out a broken moan as you reach your climax

Minho keeps moving to chase his high, his nails digging into the flesh on your thighs as he's going impossibly fast, ramming himself into you until he too, finally reaches his high.

Even though he's high in unadulterated pleasure and his brain is foggy because of it, he knows his way to your kiss, he slowly puts himself on top of you and softly places his lips on yours. There's something intimate about this, it feels pure and raw, it's just you and him locked in a chaste kiss.

However, when you break from the kiss, you look at him and say for the umpteenth time, "I hate you, Minho."

Isn't it tiring to lie? Isn't it tiring to keep hiding? But sure, you can say things that go against what you're feeling and betray your own heart as much as you want but Minho isn't one to do that kind of thing.

He holds the side of your face and fiercely looks back into your eyes as he calmly says, "That's too bad because I like you."

That makes it the third statement: Minho likes you.

If the other two are the truth then that makes this a lie, right? But, oh well, why bother figuring it out when you've already moved on from that part of life?

It takes a month to adjust to your new apartment and discover some places around your neighborhood like a regular cafe to visit when you need your caffeine fix and a bakery that sells this delicious bagel when you need a breakfast to-go.

There's no denying that you miss Kim from time to time and it feels a little lonely when you come home from work, and that's why you're excited for tonight, you're having the housewarming party that has been postponed twice because Kim got tied with her practice schedule.

Swear to God! You're just excited to meet her again and not at the possibility that you'll meet her boyfriend again.

Since you doubt your skill in cooking, you decide to order some food from Gaspard's recommendations and he also comes early to help set the table.

"You're chipper than usual," he comments as he cleans the table with a cloth.

"Am I? I feel exceptionally normal," you playfully respond.

When the doorbell rings, your heart palpation and you can't even bring yourself to peek through the peephole, you take a deep breath and turn the knob.

"Hi, my darling!" Kim gasps the second you open the door for her and you both exchange a quick, warm hug.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind me bringing a plus one," she adds, opening the door wider to let someone else in.

The excitement fills you to the brim that you feel like you're about to combust but it deflates in a second when you see that she's bringing someone else.

"You remember Astrid?" Kim asks.

You hide your disappointment and put on a smile, "I believe we met at the party," you vaguely remember her from her dirty blonde hair and Kim's fellow dancer.

"Yes, exactly that Astrid," she says as she shakes your hand.

"Please, come in!" You politely say, making a way for your guests to come inside your small apartment.

Gaspard appears to welcome Kim and gives her a quick hug, as if he heard your thoughts, he asks, "I thought you'd be with Minho."

"His car broke down again," Kim sighs as she takes off her coat, "I already told him so many times to buy a new one instead of sending his car to the shop."

This is so infuriating. No matter how much you convince yourself that you don't care about Minho, reality slaps you with the truth. You've been under the illusion that this distance will help you diminish this feeling but you do care, you care a lot.

The party went well or that's what you guessed, you were out of it most of the time, your body was here but your mind was going all over the place.

"You're so quiet," Gaspard comments again as he helps you clean up after Kim and Astrid leave.

"I'm just... sad," you honestly admit but decide to lie about the details, "Soon you'll be leaving too and I'm alone again."

Gaspard slyly smiles at you and leans the side of his body against the wall, "I mean, I can stay with you," he offers.

You scoff and put the dirty glasses into the sink, "Well, then you won't be missing me tomorrow," you say with a pout.

He sighs as he takes your subtle rejection with an open heart, "Are we still on for Sunday brunch?"

"Why? Do you need to cancel?" You jokingly say.

He bumps his shoulder with you as he joins in the kitchen sink to help you with the dishes, "Your treat!"

"Sure. My treat!" You agree with a bump into his shoulder.

A little after eleven, Gaspard left the apartment too with a long hug and a kiss on your cheek. You're going back inside to tidy up a few things while draining the wine from the leftover dinner, chugging it straight from the bottle.

It feels rewarding that you finish the wine by the time you're done cleaning the kitchen and now, you're tired enough to not think of anything else and ready for bed.

As you're about to change out of your dress, you hear the doorbell rings and your first thought is it's Gaspard, because he's done it before and he's shooting his shot for the umpteenth time. You're holding yourself back from laughing and head to the door to open it, unlocking it without checking it through the peephole first.

"What? Do you miss me already?" You jokingly say as you pull open the door.

"Yes," Minho answers without a beat as he's standing in front of you, making your heart race inside your chest and waking the kaleidoscope of butterflies as they start to flutter around in your stomach.

The first thing that comes to your head is what he said to you that night. Minho likes you and you still can't determine this one statement, well, it seems like you need to play another round to know if it's a lie or a truth.

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