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tillidontneedfantasy · 4 years ago

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A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.

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wlntrsldler · 4 years ago

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Hey! For the Taylor Swift / Harry Potter prompt thing could you please do Fred and I Think He Knows? Much thanks!!❤️❤️

PROMPT: based on i think he knows by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N drunkenly confesses her feelings.

WC: 2.1K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

i think he knows (f.w one shot)

“Ron,” you hissed from across the table. The boy remained oblivious, munching down on the pile of breakfast he dumped on his plate. He seemed to inhale the food, nevermind with chewing and actually tasting it. He just swallowed it in large pieces to make room in his mouth for some more eggs and hashbrowns. You flicked a piece of balled up napkins towards him, “Ron!”

“Blimey, Y/N,” he finally looked away from his food and shot you an annoyed look. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“I think he knows,” you whispered, chewing on your bottom lip, nervously.

“Who? Fred?”

You rolled your eyes, looking over to where the older twin sat a few people away from the both of you, “Who else, you idiot? Yes Fred!”

“I doubt it,” Ron shrugged, returning to his plate of food, like you were just a distraction to him, not much of a best friend. “He’s an oblivious git. He probably doesn’t know.”

“Probably?!” you half shrieked, half whispered. It was loud enough for the twins to hear, looking at you concernedly. You sent a shy wave their way and hid behind the comfort of your hands. “I want to jump off the Astronomy tower.”

“Well, he’s gonna find out if you keep acting like this, Y/N,” he stated, obviously. Again, you flicked a balled up napkin his way, not really appreciating his tone with you. He flicked it back, “I’m just saying, stop acting suspicious and just act normal.”

Act normal, you thought, that’s easy enough, right?

But what the hell does normal even mean?

You knew you probably shouldn’t have drank so much. Your tolerance has deteriorated tremendously after not drinking for a year but when Angelina kept offering you shots, you couldn’t refuse. Now, the common room seemed to spin around after each step you took, leading you back to where you started. Right beside the table of half eaten snacks and spiked drinks.

The Gryffindor team won the Quidditch match today and after a long, hard, school week, the team decided it would be best to blow off some steam with a little party. Fred and George were across the room, surrounded by a group of adoring, young Gryffindors. They gushed around them, complimenting them on their amazing plays in today’s match. You knew they loved the attention with the way Fred couldn’t keep the twinkle in his eye subdued for too long and the way George nudged his brother’s side every time someone reenacted one of their moves. It wasn’t hard to believe that they were some of the most popular boys to ever strut on campus.

You took baby sips from your cup, watching the older twin intently. He wore a cozy-looking jumper, like his twin, making you think about how nice it would be to sleep in it with his scent filling your senses. His hair was a bit longer than usual, the side of it tucked behind his ear. His laughter was the only thing you could hear despite the loud music that Hermione’s Muggle radio played beside your ear. You were so focused on Fred that you didn’t notice Ron staring at you, trying to hold in his laughter.

“You’re so whipped.”

Startled, you clutched your chest and turned to your best friend. You smacked his upper arm, irritated that he always seems to catch you when you’re staring at his brother so hopelessly in love. “Can you shut up?”

Ron laughed, passing you his drink, “You need to get drunk.”

“Am I not already?”

“You’re in your ‘I’ll oggle at Fred’ phase drunk,” he explained, shoving his cup with mysterious liquor into your hand. “I need you at your ‘I have no filter so I say things that I’ll regret or will get me in trouble’ phase drunk. I need a good laugh.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but took the cup, nonetheless. “Aren’t you already having a field day with how pathetic I am pining after your brother?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, filling the cup up for you again. “But I want you to insult Pansy like last time. That was good fun.”

You took the drink in his hand, downing the entire liquid. You grimaced as it burned your throat, in a good way. You chuckled at the memory, sending your best friend a wink, “I’d fight Pansy sober.”

Four more drinks later, you were at that phase. Ron retired a bit early, mumbling something about wanting to get to the dormitories before Harry could stumble in with Ginny and scar him for life. You ignored him, not really wanting to picture that scene in your head. Now, you were bouncing off the walls, spewing out your deepest secrets to anyone that dared to listen.

You were having good fun until you tried to refill your cup and a hand grabbed yours, preventing you from doing so. You were about to protest when you looked up and saw a redhead. Usually you would be able to tell the twins apart because you know Fred and you know George, but whatever it was that Ron gave you, made your vision so blurry you couldn’t possibly tell them apart. Maybe you just drank too much tonight.

“I think that’s enough,” he chuckled, pulling the cup away from you. “Want me to take you back to your dormitory?”

You pursed your lips, trying to figure out which twin it was that’s speaking to you. The harder you tried, the harder it seemed to be. They were both handsome, no doubt about it, but with Fred you usually felt your chest tighten and your mouth going dry. The problem is, you’ve drank so much that you emotionally felt numb and your mouth is already dry from the alcohol in your system. Finally, you decided to guess. It’s a 50/50 shot after all.

“Sure, Georgie, I’d appreciate that,” you mumbled, walking alongside him towards the way to the girls’ dormitories. “Your arsehole of a brother left me by myself. Can you believe that?”

Fred was almost offended that you couldn’t tell him and George apart, almost. But he took a look at your inebriated state and decided that he’ll let you slide this time. Plus, he heard a lot about your ‘truth serum’ phase drunk but he was yet to experience it, until today. He found it quite charming, but then again, he always found you charming.

He’s had a crush on you for so long. One day you walked into the Burrow, and suddenly you were no longer his little brother’s best friend. You were Y/N. And he fell head over heels for you. Fred found you funny and gorgeous and sweet and so adorably cute, that sometimes George would have to hit him in the back of the head to get him to stop daydreaming over you. But alas, he thought you only saw him as your best friend’s brother.

“I’ve got a lot of brothers, Y/N,” he chuckled beside you, arms at the ready in case you were about to fall over. “You’ve got to be more specific than that, love. You talking about Percy? Ron, maybe? Fred?”

“Well, Percy is an arse but for a whole different reason,” you started, as if pondering the moments that you personally disliked his brother. This pulled out a snort from Fred because he agreed with you. Percy was an arse. You continued, “But no, I’m talking about Ronald, of course! He just leaves me there at a party that he dragged me into!”

“Yeah, that’s a dick move, innit?”

“I’d say so,” you hummed. Before you could stop yourself from talking, the alcohol took over your senses. “I’d never call Fred an arse, you see. I think he’s far too fit to be an arse.”

As you entered your dormitory, Fred’s eyebrows shot up. Did you just call him fit? He led you to your bed, watching fondly as you plopped down on the cushion, “Is that so?”

“Definitely,” you chuckled, burying your head into your pillow. “Don’t tell him this, Georgie, but I fancy him. I fancy him a lot.”

“Do you now?” Fred’s cheeks reddened as he watched you nod and smile up at him, eyes droopy.

“Yeah, I do,” you sat up, raising your pinky up in the air. “Pinky promise me that you won’t tell Freddie? Or-or use that twin telepathy thing that I think you guys have! Please, Georgie, you can’t tell him. I’ll be far too embarrassed if you do.”

Unable to fight the smile on his face, he linked your pinkies together, “I promise, Y/N. But I don’t think you’d get embarrassed if he found out. Anyone would be lucky to have you have a crush on them.”

“You’re sweet, Georgie,” you smiled, already half-asleep. “If only Fred thought the same as you.”

Fred laughed as you dozed off, leaning against your bedpost. He draped a blanket over your small figure and placed a kiss on your temple before whispering, “He does. Goodnight, love.”

“I’m never drinking again,” you groaned, rubbing your head with your hands. Hermione laughed beside you, ushering you to continue walking to get some breakfast to nurse your hangover. “I can’t believe I told George about my crush on Fred.”

“Well, he’s bound to find out anyway,” she shrugged as you two sat in front of Ron and Harry.

“Find out what?” Harry asked, not bothering to greet the two girls with a good morning. And to be honest, with the way you looked like you’d just been pulled out of another dimension, he assumed it has not been a good morning so far.

Hermione giggled as she filled her plate, “Y/N told George about her crush on Fred last night.”

“Correction,” you interrupted, “Drunk Y/N did. Sober Y/N is regretting that decision.”

“Wait you told George? When?” Ron asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you tell him before he came into my room to show me a prototype for their shop?”

You stared at Ron like he was stupid, “What are you on? He walked me to my room last night.”

“No, he was in my room last night.”

“Well, he can’t be at two places at once, can he, Ronald?” you sighed a hint of attitude in your tone, shaking your head at your friend. The table froze, jaws hanging wide, before you caught on. Oh shit. You gasped, clasping your palm over your mouth, “Please tell me I didn’t.”

Ron erupted in unsympathetic giggles, laughing at your pale complexion, “Y/N, you told Fred you fancied him!”

Eyes wide, you shook your head furiously, “No I didn’t!”

“Well now we know why you’re not a Ravenclaw,” Harry added, joining Ron in his laughter fit.

“Shut it, Potter!” you hissed, dropping your head in your hands. This cannot be happening. “Godric, please can the universe just eat me alive now?”

“Well now, he definitely knows.”

“Ronald, stop it.” Hermione poked your side, a terrified look on her face. “Uh, Y/N?”

“What?” Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, Fred was walking to where you’re sat. Your heart was jumping in your chest. Your palms grew sweaty and you couldn’t stop your foot from nervously tapping on the floor. Should I run, you thought, or should I just act like nothing happened?

Before you could make a decision, Fred took a seat beside you.

“Hello, darling,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip.

You squirmed in your seat, trying to ignore Ron and Harry’s muffled giggles in the back. You gulped, “Hiya, Fred. How you doin’ today?”

“Lovely, thanks for asking,” he replied, a smile still etched on his face. He cocked his head to the side, “And yours, love?”

You swallowed down the butterflies that flew in your stomach. You played with your thumbs, unable to look at him in the eye. “Fine.”

“Good, good.”

“Yup.”

“Well, good talking to you,” Fred got up and dusted his pants, leaving you dumbfounded in your seat. Was that it? Well, you thought, that wasn’t so bad. You turned around, offering him a tight-lipped smile out of courtesy, before turning back around and returning to your food.

“That was anticlimactic, wasn’t it?” Ron frowned.

“Oh, Y/N,” Fred stopped and walked over to you again. He leaned down so close that you could smell the mint toothpaste he used that morning. His breath tickled your ear, making you shiver. Fred’s lips touched the skin that connected your neck and your ear, pressing a soft kiss there. Then he whispered, “I fancy you, too.”

He shot you a wink before walking away. You blushed furiously, fingers raising up to trace the place where his lips once were. Grinning at your friends, you breathed out, “I think he knows.”

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #frances x taylor swift x harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley drabble #fred weasley one shot #frances writes #frances song fics

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Powerful Ch. 2

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3.5 k

Author’s Note: This is turning out pretty good, I think. It’s turning into a kind of slow-burn ish thing, and as much as I can’t stand slow-burn sometimes, I’m liking it so far. If I’m being honest I feel like (hopefully) this is the thing that can help me get over my smut writing block. I haven’t been able to get myself to write smut for a while, and I’m hoping this can help me fix it.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Also, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I usually put in that little line spacer when there’s a pov change. You know, this one:

____

So yeah. And the three asterisks (except the ones at the beginning):

* * * Usually means a timeskip. If it’s unlabelled it’s only a short skip, anything over 24 hours I’ll label.

Enjoy~

Shouta woke you up, his rough hands rubbing your back and deep voice softly calling your name. When you let your eyes flutter open you realize you’re still on top of him, only your head is further cradled into his neck and your leg had found its way around his waist. The position had your face warming as you lifted your head and met his dark eyes.

“Good morning, little one.” He sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up himself. You pulled away and he released you so you could sit up. Off of him. You couldn’t quite hold his gaze, so you looked down at the bedsheets.

“Good morning, Shouta.” He sits up beside you, a hand grasping your chin and making you look at him.

“Am I too forward? Or are you afraid of me, little one?” You raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to really consider your own comfort.

“Can I speak freely?” He nods, and you take a breath.

“You are being just a little forward, but I think it’s only really enhanced because you’re known for being cold and unwelcoming. And also the fact that we only formally met last night.” His hand drops, and he waits for the second half of your answer. You take a moment to choose your wording, make sure you’re accurately communicating your feelings without offending him.

“While I do feel awkward and, frankly, small around you I don’t necessarily fear you. So far you’ve shown that you aren’t cruel, and though you are capable of some...violent things, I have no reason yet to believe you would be violent toward me.” A small smile tugs at his lips, a foreign thing to see.

“I assure you, I am not a violent lover. Nor will I ever be.” He reaches over and grabs your hand, lifting it to his face and leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. It’s a simple, sweet gesture that has your face and chest heating. Then he gets up and you follow him out to the living room where three large suitcases are waiting. Your suitcases, you realize, Mother and Father must have packed all your clothing and had them sent here. Shouta picks up two of them and you take the last one, returning to the bedroom.

“The closet has plenty of room, so go ahead and sort everything out. I’ll be in my office. Once you’re done just wait for me, we’ll be going out later.” You nod, and he’s disappearing into his office. For the first time, you take a good look at the room. Your room now, you remind yourself.

It’s large, enough to fit three more king beds with plenty of spare room. The king-sized mattress sits in a black frame that was built to look like it was hovering inches off the ground, fitted with light gray sheets and a large black comforter. The entire room is illuminated by lights embedded in the ceiling, the floor a dark hardwood that matches the doors to the bathroom and walk-in closet. A table sat on either side of the bed, both painted black to match the bed frame.

The walk-in closet is big as well, though it’s much brighter than the main bedroom. The floor is smooth white tile, a white center island with a glass top looking into the top drawers that held numerous watches and ties. Most of Shouta’s clothing seems to be folded, the suits and more high-end clothing the only pieces hung up. You filled the empty spaces with your own clothing, keeping everything organized like you had back at home. With everything tucked away, you decided it was time to change out of the robe, tugging on undergarments you missed those, a pair of loose sweatpants and a racerback tank top. Then you brought the now empty suitcases back to the living room and dug through the kitchen for some breakfast.

____

Shouta emerged from his office to you humming to yourself as you worked over the stove of bacon and pancakes. He didn’t even know he had bacon, let alone the ingredients for pancakes. It was quite cute, seeing you bounce lightly along with the tune you’re humming, spatula in hand. It’s a domestic sight, completely foreign to him. He leaned on the doorframe, choosing to admire you a while longer.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come get some food?” He blinked, slightly shocked, you hadn’t even turned around to see if he was there. You must have heard the door open, though he made sure none of the doors in his home creaked. It’s an irritating noise. He made his way over to you, hooking his chin over your shoulder and placing his large hands on your waist.

He knows he’s moving a little fast with the intimacy. He’d asked you earlier, though you said you didn’t mind, you were absolutely right that it’s weird being so close so soon. In all honesty, as long as you’re alright with it he wants to continue being touchy like this. He’s never truly had any interest in naming a partner, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want company. He’s been lonely for a long time, longing for someone to hold, and while he’s absolutely sure any woman would love to court him willingly, he wants someone special.

He can’t stand the women that throw themselves at any man with power and money, most of them only in it for their own gain. If he were to announce before the ball that he was looking to name a wife, he’d probably have had a line of fawning women on their best behavior to butter him up, flirting and smiling those too-big smiles in an attempt to get a rock on their finger and power to wield at their leisure. That’s why he’d decided to watch from afar, and you struck him as different the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

The more time he spent in your company, the more he’s commending himself for picking you. You’re one of the probable few that held a semi-neutral opinion of him, not fearful nor starstruck. You’re intelligent, well-articulated, and while you have your limits you tend to go with the flow, let the wind carry you this way and that. And you’re honest with him, he has no doubt you’ll tell him if there’s a boundary he crosses.

____

You’re grateful he can’t quite tell the state you’re in right now. Shouta’s hands on your waist flustered you, more than you care to admit. Sure, he’s advancing rather quickly, but you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. You’d been forbidden from dating, made to save yourself for the strategic marriage your father had planned. For the longest time you’d wanted to be held, touched and loved by someone. And here Shouta is, fulfilling all your teenage daydreams. He has no reason to be so close behind closed doors, where no one can see you, so he must feel some sort of real attraction toward you right? Otherwise he’d be more closed off, only opting to speak on his own terms and not caring at all about you or your comfort.

You shake yourself from your thoughts and the two of you sit at the dining table, quietly eating your breakfast. It is a little awkward, but you expected as much. Shouta, like you, probably isn’t used to eating with another person. You both finish breakfast soon, and once the dishes are washed Shouta startles you with his next words.

“We’ll be leaving in an hour or two for a lunch meeting with a few other clans.” You have to take a pause and think about what he’d just said.

“We? You want me to join you?” A part of you wants him to confirm it, another hopes he doesn’t.

“Yes, I want you there with me.” Cue your confusion.

“It’s almost unheard of, having a woman in a clan meeting.” As much as you hate the patriarchy and its traditions, they are still traditions that, once challenged, could upset many people.

“Let’s say I’m breaking the status-quo. If I’m going to have a wife, she’ll be wielding my power alongside me, not just existing as a means to further the bloodline.” It becomes apparent to you that Shouta, despite his position, is very much not traditional. You turn to him and lean against the kitchen counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So why have you chosen me? I’m the daughter of a very low-ranked oyabun, have almost no experience compared to you and I am most definitely not someone other oyabun would approve to be your wife, let alone leading the entirety of the Yakuza.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, crossing his own arms.

“I don’t care what other oyabun may think of me or my choices, they don’t dictate what I do. As for why I’ve chosen you, it’s quite simple. I’ve known you for less than a day and it’s already obvious to me that you can take most things in stride, without allowing it to affect you emotionally. You’re good at compartmentalizing your own thoughts, can keep a level head under pressure, and that’s exactly what I need.” Your own eyebrows raise, not expecting a read like that.

“And last night as I watched you, it was clear to me that you’re skilled at masking your emotions, especially nervousness or fear. Think about what any other woman would have done, had I walked up to them and asked their name. Before I could get another word out they’d probably drop to their knees and begin begging for their lives. Most would probably faint on the spot, pounce on me, or any other number of unsavory responses after announcing a sudden engagement to me. But you? You did nothing, simply answering my question and taking my hand with no theatrics.”

You nod slowly, mildly understanding his point. While it’s true you had almost no reaction, you’re almost sure there’d be at least a dozen other women in that hall that would have reacted the way you had.

“Still, there must have been many others that acted like I did. For me to be so completely unique is…” You trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

“Unlikely? Yes. Impossible? No. I trust my own judgement, little one, and you should have a little more faith in yourself. Now, let’s go get ready. I’ve already got a dress for you to wear. It’s only semi-formal, we’ll be going to a restaurant for this meeting.” You give a small sigh as you follow him into the bedroom.

All you can do now is go along with it, whether you trust his judgement or not. Suddenly being put in a position of so much power is stressing you out a little bit, but Shouta isn’t wrong about your compartmentalization. The stress could be dealt with later, right now you have a meeting to attend.

* * *

On second thought, maybe the stress should have been dealt with earlier. Standing outside the restaurant, wrapped around Shouta’s arm is making your heart pound in your chest. You’re unconsciously squeezing his bicep, and even as he looks down at you, there's nothing on your face to indicate your nerves. You’re completely deadpanned, eyes focused and mind working overtime. Shouta’s calloused hand falls over yours, a mildly comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry, little one. The most you’ll have to do is sit still and look pretty. I’m aware of your inexperience, I don’t expect you to be put on the spot. If you are and feel uncomfortable then all you need to do is tap my leg. You’ll be fine.” You nod. The pep-talk is appreciated, but it isn’t the meeting itself you’re worried about. What kind of backlash will Shouta be getting once you enter? What will be said about his reputation afterward? All you can do is wait and see.

You stride into the venue, and are led to a private room by a hostess. You can hear the casual conversation from the open door, but once you’re inside the immediate silence is unsettling. You don’t need to look directly at the half dozen men to know all their eyes are fixed on you as you both sit at the head of the table. Shouta quickly and smoothly brings the attention off of you.

“It’s good to see you, gentlemen. Let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” The tension in the room is still palpable, the clear discomfort from the men hadn’t vanished, but their main focus now is the subject of the meeting. You sit and listen carefully as they talk about several things, from natural disaster preparations to minor territory disputes. Some of the smaller syndicates under these oyabun had spread operations outside their borders, but that was quickly settled as most was due to small misunderstandings and unclear borders. Soon the meeting was nearly coming to a close, and suddenly Shouta left to use the restroom.

And now, you’re a lioness in a clan of hyenas.

You keep quiet, listening to their conversation and following along with the political debates to further familiarize yourself with the inner workings of the higher circle. Suddenly the table goes quiet, and you lift your eyes from the table to meet the gaze of six men that value tradition. Unsure what to do, you drop your gaze again, but don’t drop your chin, choosing to look down your nose at the wood grain. Shouta had told you to hold yourself as he does, and you make sure to try, but you know when to keep to yourself.

“Tell me, girl, what are you doing here?” You blink, not expecting to be confronted so blatantly. You look up at the man who had asked the question. He looks to be in his late forties, jet black hair graying at the temples and striking brown eyes aged and tired. He’s not thin, a little heavier-set, but it’s clear there was a point that he was fit and muscular. He’s already irked you. You nod your head, a small bow, before calmly answering.

“My name is (y/n). I would appreciate it if you could please use it, Oyabun. I am here because Shouta wants me to be here.” The man narrows his eyes at you, a small scoff comes from one of the others but you don’t avert your eyes to him.

“Well why does he want you here, girl?” The blatant rejection of your request made your blood boil, but you kept a pleasant face.

“I don’t know. If you wish to know you may need to ask him yourself, Oyabun. And please, call me (y/n).” You’re certain he won’t use your name, and you addressing it again will probably anger him, but you can’t care too much when you know you’re within your right to ask that anyone use your name. Especially when you yourself are using a title for the man.

“I’ll address you how I see fit. Just because you’re the Black Dragon’s fiance does not mean I will acknowledge you as anyone of importance.” Ah, that’s right. You had forgotten Shouta’s nickname. Black Dragon is the name people used for him, whether they were afraid of the man or in awe of him. You take an imperceptible, steadying breath. Misogyny is one of the few things that challenge your composure.

“I do not ask you to acknowledge me as a person who holds power. In fact, I am aware of my previous rank and understand that it was maybe unwise to have me here. All I ask is that you please use my name.” The near growl that escapes the man does nothing to your self-control, doesn’t even strike any kind of emotion other than irritation. At this point, the other five men seem to be siding with you, their gazes fixed on the rather aggressive-reacting oyabun with something akin to confusion.

“Do not talk back to me, girl! I should remind you of your place here.” The other men sit in shock as he rises from his seat and begins to circle the table. He must have had tunnel vision, because Shouta’s voice cuts through the room so abruptly he freezes, his eyes snapping over to the entrance where Shouta stands, glaring daggers at him.

“Touch her, and I will personally bury you six feet under.” The man is frozen in shock, almost in disbelief. He tries, albeit weakly, to get Shouta on his side.

“O-oyabun! I… This girl, she--”

“I believe she asked you to use her name. Politely, might I add.” He’d been listening? How long had he stood there?

“In fact, you should address her as Onna-oyabun.” Your breath caught at that, the same as the rest of the room. That title was a myth, a rarity in its own right. There were so few instances where that title was applied to a woman under such specific circumstances that it’s a mere legend today. The most recent was an old woman who had inherited her deceased husband’s clan, which was extremely small, and even that was long ago.

Shouta’s hand landed on your shoulder, his rough thumb drawing small circles into your skin. He was silent, waiting for the older man, or anyone in the room, to oppose him. You could feel his glare in the faces of the other clans’ oyabun, the intensity of it making even you uneasy. It felt like an eternity before Shouta spoke again, venom laced in every syllable.

“I’ve chosen to let you keep all of your teeth, in favor of keeping her from seeing what violence I’m capable of. Next time, I won’t be so gracious. It’s time to go, little one.” You bow your head quickly before taking Shouta’s extended hand and strolling out of the room.

In the car, it’s silent. You have every intention of apologizing for causing a scene, though you aren’t sure if you should speak here or at home. Shouta doesn’t leave you any options.

“What is it? There’s something bothering you.” How perceptive.

“I’m sorry, Shouta.” He turns his head, his expression questioning your intelligence.

“For what? For asking to be addressed in a way that isn’t demeaning? He had no reason to ask why you were there, let alone attempt to attack you like that. I always hated that man, you’ve just given me a reason to threaten him.” You did a double-take.

“You heard everything? How long were you standing at the door?”

“Ah. I put a bug in the metal piece on the front of your dress. I knew they might be unsavory toward you, and with me out of the room they were more likely to speak their minds.” You nearly gawked at him. No wonder he’d chosen your dress for you.

“You never went to use the restroom.” He shook his head.

“No, I didn’t. It is I who should be apologizing, little one. The entire ordeal was intentional, as much as I hoped it wouldn’t actually take such a turn. Though I will say I was serious about that title. I fully intend to marry you, and I intend to have you by my side for every meeting from here on out.” You suck in a sharp breath at that bit of information. Marriage seemed like such an abstract concept until now, having Shouta say it somehow made it all the more solid. And to join him for every meeting?

“As long as there are no more surprise incidents then I think I can come with you.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he squeezed your hand.

“Deal. Though I may need to do that a few more times just to keep some men in line.” You let yourself giggle, he must hate a few of the others as well.

“In that case I’ll help you. I was afraid he’d actually get me for a second there.”

“Really? You didn’t even react. What if I were a split second too late?” You smirked, a mischievous little tug at your lips.

“Well if you were too late he’d have at least one stab wound and be bleeding out on the floor.” He shoots you a bewildered look before you tug up the hem of your dress, exposing a large dagger strapped to your thigh. He can’t contain his laughter, throwing his head back and wiping away at a few stray tears once he can breathe again. You can’t help but laugh with him, and notice just how handsome he looks when he’s happy, or in this case amused.

“Wouldn’t that be an unpleasant surprise.” He chuckles a bit more, getting it all out of his system before looking over at you.

“Regardless, I won’t be letting them get that close. I’m sure you’re capable of defending yourself, and as much as I’d love to see you stab an annoying misogynist, the risk to your safety still remains. Not to mention he disregarded my warning last night. You’re untouchable, little one, he knows this and still thought he could touch even a single hair on your head.”

You let a small smile settle on your lips, lacing your fingers with Shouta’s as a comfortable silence falls between you.

******************************

Tags:

@inumorph

#shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa bnha #aizawa mha

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blessednereid · 4 years ago

Text

LFLLLL Prologue: Mutual Pining

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

WC: 3.5k

Taglist: @rogershoe

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Lydia's House

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Lydiaaaaaa!" You had barged into Lydia's house unannounced that afternoon. You had work that afternoon, but you called in sick, not physically, but emotionally. And only Lydia could help you.

"LYDIA LORRAINE MARTIN!"

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lydia's mom, Natalie, had come out of her office because of your shouts.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin, I didn't realize you were home. Your car wasn't in the driveway," you apologized.

"It's fine, dear. Lydia's upstairs taking a nap. You know how much of a heavy sleeper she is."

"Thank you, Mrs. Martin."

"Please, I've told you many times. Call me Natalie."

You nodded before heading upstairs, where Lydia's room was.

You opened her door, and as you thought, she was lying on the bed, snoring and drooling. A sight you had gotten very used to since you first met her in third grade.

"Lydia Lorraine Martin. We have a code-red!"

Immediately, Lydia jolted up from her bed and began flailing her arms in the air. She lost balance before falling off the side.

"Oh, MY- Ugh." You went to help her sit back upright on the bed, sat next to her, and laid your head in her lap.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Why did you wake me up?"

"We have a code red!!"

'Code reds' were what you and Lydia had when you caught real feelings for a guy.

When you were younger and in middle school, Lydia had gotten a crush on the cutest guy in your math class.

On Valentines Day, she wrote him a card and put it in his locker. The card said, "I think you're cute♡︎ What do you think about me?" Later that same day, she found out that almost all of the kids in your two's class had read the card. And on top of that, the guy was a huge jerk about it.

Since then, you and Lydia vowed to never catch feelings for anyone until you were at least twenty-five.

"Who is it, babe? What happened?" Lydia asked with a concerned tone.

"It's Isaac."

"Your partner for the World History project?"

"Yeah, him," you sighed. "We started getting closer, and he started talking to me, and we bonded over our moms' death, and there were carnival rides and vampires and freezy pops!"

"Woah, Woah, Woah! Slow down!"

"So basically, I did what you told me and took him to the county carnival, right? Then, he told me about his mom dying, and we talked about that, and then we went on rides and fought about their pace, and he was fine after like a two-hundred-foot drop. So then, we went on a rollercoaster, and after that, I was cold because I was wearing a light jacket."

"Okay, keep going…"

"So then he warmed me up by giving me a hug and then led me in the building, and we just hung out there until like five? Then when we were doing the slideshow, he started asking me about my room and shit, and when we were done, we watched that show I told you about, with the high school vampires."

"Oh, the babysitter one?"

"Yeah, that. So, he was actually interested. And then we just kept watching it together throughout the week since we finished the project. And then when we were presenting today, you know I have that stage fright. He just held my hand and calmed me down, and he listened to me after we were done, and he actually cared about it instead of dismissing it.

"Not that you dismiss it, Lydia." She nodded.

"Anyways, after that, GB had to talk to us, and she ratted me out about writing his name down, and then he got slightly mad at me but not really, and then I explained. And he just told me he would see me tomorrow for our movie night…" you trailed off, debating whether you should tell her the last part.

"So that's when you realized?"

"After that, I turned away, and then he kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear, 'see you tomorrow or something like that!"

Lydia chuckled. "So you have a code red?"

"Lydia, I have a hang-out with him tomorrow. I'm not gonna be able to fucking think straight!"

"Babe, just go and see how it goes. Maybe it's a 24-hours thing, you know? Just adrenaline. It affected you like this because you don't go out."

"Lyds, it's not like that. It's different."

"Y/n, that's what I tell myself before every hookup," she deadpanned.

"Okay, yeah. You're right. It's just a 24-hour thing."

"It's just adrenaline, babes. Nothing more, nothing less."

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Movie Night

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

'Nothing more, nothing less…"

Those were the words that kept repeating in your head as you twisted Isaac's hair around your fingers around Isaac's hair as his head rested in your lap.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked rapidly.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine!"

"It's just, you're not watching the show?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"Whatever you say, princess…"

Princess. The pet name made your heart flutter, and you thought you would explode.

"Give me a minute, please!" was all you said before picking up your phone and dashing out the room.

You headed to the bathroom and dialed Lydia's number right after texting her "Code Red Emergency."

"It's not a 24-hours thing, is it?" she said when she picked up.

"No…"

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do…"

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Previous Day

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

He watched you as you turned around. His nerves crawled through his spine, and he curled and unfurled his fingers before finding the confidence–, no, before finding the ability to move.

When his lips touched the side of your face, his heart was set aflame.

'How did I just do that?' he thought. But entirely different words came out of his mouth.

"See you," he said, and he internally pumped the air when he saw your lips curl upwards into a smile.

When he reached class, his actions had finally sunk into his mind.

He went to his seat where his friend, Dillon Karis, sat beside him. Dillon was the only friend of Isaac, and they had known each other since middle school.

"Dude!"

Dillon turned his head to his friend, whose urgent tone caught his attention.

"You know that girl I was telling you about?" Isaac said enthusiastically.

Dillon scoffed. "You mean the one who's been taking up all your Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights?

"Yeah, I remember her."

Isaac rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Dude, I think I may actually like her…"

"Holy—" Isaac cut him off.

"Shut up!"

Dillon took two breaths to calm down before speaking.

"Explain. Now!"

Isaac threw his head back.

"I don't know. It's just the way she makes me feel." He smiled. "It's like… the way my mom used to tell me about how she felt about my dad? It's weird."

"Bro, you barely know her. Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I think."

"Well, let me know. This is interesting. Shoulda brought some popcorn today, as I had planned," Dillon burst out laughing, and Isaac followed.

"Dude, I have to go to her house tomorrow."

"Why? I thought you already turned in the project."

"We have our movie night," Isaac said before realizing what that might sound like to his friend.

"Oh shit! So y'all already been going on dates?"

"No! No…" Isaac pointed his finger at his friend, signaling him to stop.

"Dude, so what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know…"

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Movie Night

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Isaac was now highly flustered as he laid his head in your lap. You didn't bring up the kiss, so he assumed he either made you uncomfortable or you didn't like him enough to care.

He looked at your face to see if there were any signals or indications, but he saw that you were completely zoned out.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

You blinked before saying, "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

Isaac raised his eyebrows before turning his attention back to the television.

When you dashed out the room with little explanation, Isaac took his emotional matters into his own hands. He had decided to get rid of his feelings, sure that they were unrequited.

He headed out of your room and knocked on Stiles' door.

"Come in!" he heard faintly, and he opened the door.

"Isaac, what's up?" Stiles had barely looked up from his work.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but I need some advice, and I figured that you probably know a lot about girls…"

"Not really, but I'm flattered you would think that. Please come in!"

Isaac stepped into the room and sat on Stiles' bed.

"Is this fine?" to which Stiles nodded.

"So, Isaac. Tell me what's going on," Stiles said before clasping his hands together.

Isaac took multiple deep breaths. He was about to ask your brother how to get rid of his feelings for you. Who does that?

"I have a crush… on this girl. And I know that she doesn't like—"

"You know, or you think?"

"I think, but she's given no sign of liking me…"

"Okay, continue."

"She doesn't like me. And I was wondering if you knew if there was anything I could do to… get rid of the feelings I have…"

"Oh boy. Isaac, I wish I knew. I'm in that same position. However! I wouldn't tell you if I did know. Because you never know, right? Unless they've told you that they don't like you, you don't know for sure. And even then, it could happen in the future."

That was not the advice Isaac was hoping for, preferring to put himself out of his misery before he could get in it.

"Alright, thanks, Stiles."

"No problem, bud!"

Isaac walked back to your room, where you were laid down on your back.

"Hey, where did you go?"

"Nowhere, I just needed to… uh.. get some air."

You squint your eyes, and even Isaac wasn't convinced by his lie, but he didn't say anything else before he laid beside you.

"Lydia is having a party next Saturday. You should come."

"Oh, I don't think—"

"Please, Isaac? It'll be good for you to get out of your house like Mrs. GB said."

He couldn't resist the tug on his heart when you flashed your pouting eyes, and he had to give in.

"Fine, I'll see what I can do. That's not a promise."

"Yay!" You exclaimed before pressing a kiss to his forehead. The action made Isaac's heart race, and all he wanted to do at that moment was kiss you.

In fact, it was all he thought of for the next few minutes.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Isaac's Daydream

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Love?"

"Yes, babe?" you responded to him.

"This is the spot. Stop going ahead of me."

You mouthed an "Oh" before laying down on the blanket he set by the flowerbed.

"So, whose house are we breaking into right now, Mr. Lahey?" you teased. You and Isaac were sitting in the backyard of a foreign house you had never seen, but you followed Isaac anyways.

"Yours."

You scoffed a 'what' as you had never seen the house in your life.

"Mines. Ours." He smirked.

Your face of pleasant surprise made his racing heart slow, as he thought you wouldn't like it.

"This is our house?"

"Well, it was my grandparent's house. They left it to me when they died. They said I can only get it when I turn 18, and now since we're together, It's our house."

You leaped onto his lap and kissed him feverishly.

"This is the best surprise ever!"

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Reality

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Isaac!" You yelled, and Isaac didn't know what you had said before.

"Sorry! I just zoned out."

"It's not a problem."

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

You

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"So, do you want to watch a scary movie?"

You actually weren't planning on doing any of what Lydia had suggested you do, which was to just come outright and tell him you like him.

Instead, you chose to suffer in silence, thinking there was no way possible that Isaac liked you back. And even if he had, you two would be better off as friends… Right?

At least that is what you chose to tell yourself.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Isaac Leaves

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

When the movie was over, Isaac went home, and you prepared for bed.

That night you dreamt of things you wanted in your life that you couldn't have.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Your Dream

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Hey, Isaac?"

You two were curled up together on a couch watching a movie, much like your reality. However, a few things were different.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Babe, we're in a hotel, and the only restaurants have a pre-set menu. If you want food, you either get what they have, or we Postmates."

"But neither sounds good. I want Pasta!"

He sighed. "Then lets Postmates pasta, babe."

"But I want you to make it," you pouted.

"Okay, how about this." You turned to face him to hear his proposition.

"I get you dessert with the food they have here, and I make you pasta tomorrow?"

You smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You hummed before saying, "That sounds perfect," and he kissed you with a burning passion.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Morning

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

"Y/N! WAKE UP!" Stiles woke you up from your dream.

"WHERE'S THE FIRE?" You flailed around before falling off the bed.

Stiles chuckled loudly.

"MIECZYSŁAW STILINSKI!

"IT'S A FUCKING SUNDAY!"

You groaned loudly before grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, effectively knocking him down but not ceasing his laughter.

"Relax, Relax! Dad's taking us out for breakfast."

You rolled your eyes heavily. "Ugh, I hate you. GO! Let me change!"

"Wait! Wait! I have a question…"

"What?"

"What's going on between you and Lahey?"

You looked down and away from him. "Nothing," you murmured.

When you looked back at him, his eyes were narrowed, and his forehead was crinkled.

"I don't believe you one bit."

Your face heated.

"There's nothing going on, Stiles."

He scoffed. "We may be fraternal, but we're still twins, Y/n. Whatever, I don't like him anyway."

"Why not, Sti?"

He moved his face closer to yours, and you craned your head back for air.

"Because I'm your brother, I'm never gonna like any guy you date. None of them are worthy of my sister."

"Well, you don't have to hate him because nothing is going on."

"Hmmm... Sure," he stated simply before walking out.

You got ready, wearing an off-shoulder baby blue top that was slightly… starchy in texture, as well as a pink plaid miniskirt and black slip-on sneakers.

When you got downstairs, your dad and Stiles sighed a heavy "finally," and you mocked offense.

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Waffle House

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

You got in the car and began driving. You looked out the window enjoying all the sights while Stiles tried to coax your dad into talking about cases.

Your dad turned and pulled into the parking lot of the Waffle House.

You sat at the counter and talked until someone came to get your drinks order.

"So, Stiles, when are you going to bring a date home?" your dad asked with a squint.

"Not anytime soon, He's still stuck on Lydia."

Stiles blushed. "Well, I mean, It's working. She knows who I am. "

"No, she doesn't. But… I do know this girl—" Stiles cut you off.

"If it's not Lydia, then no, thank you. I'm stuck on her like white on rice."

Your dad interjected your argument. "Stiles, you sound like a stalker. Normally, we arrest people like you."

"Okay, Let's change the subject. Y/n, wanna tell dad about Isaac or should I?"

You rolled your eyes. "Why should I? There's nothing going on?"

"Wait, who's Isaac?" your dad said while whirling his hand beside his head.

"He was my partner for a project I had for World History."

Stiles laughed. "We presented on Friday. What have you guys been doing in your room?"

Your dad's eyes widened. "Why is he in your room?"

"We just watch movies, Dad! We do nothing else!"

"I highly doubt that. In fact, why don't I ask Isaac right now?"

You blanched. "What do you mean?"

"He's coming up behind us," he said, looking past your head.

You began choking when you saw him in your peripheral version.

"Can I get you something t- Stiles!" Isaac popped up from behind you and began to ask for your drink orders.

"Hey, Isaac," you said as you turned around.

"Hey, Y/n!" His intonation was normal, his facial expression was off.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

Isaac

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"What do you want to drink?" he asked, though his focus was on your dad's squinted gaze pointed directly at him.

"Can I get a coffee?" Noah spoke up first. Isaac jotted down his order.

Stiles followed.

"I'll get an Arnold Palmer!" he said while raising his hand.

"Is that on the menu?" Isaac asked confusedly.

"No, but it's half of a lemonade, half of an iced tea in one glass."

"Okay… Arnold Palmer."

"Y/n," the lovestruck boy said with a smile. "What about you?"

The corners of your mouth turned up. "It's not on the menu, but is there an option for an iced coffee?"

"Uh, I'm sure there is." He knew there wasn't, but he also knew you didn't like hot coffee much.

"Are you sure? I don't want to--"

"It's fine, Y/n," he reassured.

He walked away and headed to the kitchen to tell the cooks the drink order.

"I need an iced coffee, a regular coffee, and A half-and-half lemonade-iced tea. Please," he added.

Isaac glanced outside the kitchen window and gazed at you softly. He admired the way your eyes glimmered in the sun and how your hair bounced with every gesture you made. From this, he began to appreciate how amazing your hair looked and how the light refracted off of it.

He smiled a lopsided grin as he watched the way your lips move. He imagined how they would feel on his. Soft. Smooth. He had the notion that you were probably experienced in that field, more so than he was.

No. He couldn't imagine that. When he thought about the things he just thought, it sounded creepy and perverted. Besides, there was no way that you liked him back, so even thinking about it would just lead to further heartbreak.

He grabbed your table's drinks and walked back, trying to ignore your smile because he couldn't stop the race that his heart ran whenever he saw it.

"Alright, here are your drinks."

"Isaac, can I talk to you outside?" asked Stiles.

"I'm actually working, so I can't do that. But, I can take your orders."

He jotted down each of your orders and went back to the kitchens.

╭╼|══════════|╾╮

You

╰╼|══════════|╾╯

"Stiles, I swear to God, I'm gonna hurt you."

"Not my fault you're over here pining after Lahey but won't do anything about it."

"Up your ass and off your high horse, Stiles!" You did your best to be quiet with your statement, but your dad still heard.

"Hey, hey!"

"Sorry, Dad," you and Stiles said simultaneously.

You watched the cooks prepare the food in front of you, but you hoped to see Isaac somehow, even though he was in the back.

You thought about his messy hair and how it felt in-between your fingers... How his eyes dilated with each smile, and the tiny specks of green in those ocean blue eyes were always able to calm you down.

You noticed how his lips were never chapped and how his cheeks looked like apples when he smiled, and the one dimple that was prominent in those moments as well.

You wondered if this was how Lydia felt for the boy that caused their entire concept of code reds or if you began to feel something much more for the boy with the shy demeanor and quiet voice.

When Isaac came back, you thought about how you could try to confess your feelings. But, you knew that if Isaac was barely willing to talk to you for a long time, it would be a snowball's chance in hell that he liked you the same way.

"Alright, here's your waffles and your hash-browns, Y/n. Your sandwich, Sheriff, and your All-Star breakfast, Stiles."

"Thank you, Isaac," you said with a smile.

He turned to leave before you called out.

"Um, Isaac!" He spun around on his heel at your calling with a questioning look on his face.

He walked back towards you, prepared to write something else down on his order pad.

"Movie night, tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Yeah, sure."

"Dorota, you cannot tell me you do not like him."

"Mieczysław, I do not."

Your dad cut in. "Sweetheart, and if you do?"

"I don't. Can we just leave it at that?"

#Love lost lovelorn love found #isaaclahey #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey #isaac x reader #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey x you #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey smut #isaac lahey angst #isaac lahey x oc #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski angst #teen wolf #teenwolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf y/n series

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sweetbunnykook · 4 years ago

Text

Forget-Me-Not

Adopted!JK x Detective!Noona - Oneshot/Drabble

Warning: taboo relationship, angst (manipulation/unhealthy boundaries)

Word: 1,855

Synopsis: Jungkook prepares to surprise you during Halloween but you have other plans that fuel his insecurities.

A/N: I combined most, if not all, of the drabble ideas you guys sent me. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this drabble that is borderline a oneshot! ♥ Everyone had such wonderful ideas I couldn’t just choose one. I also had to force myself to stop writing because it was going to turn into a chapter.

Jungkook just wanted to spend Halloween with you in peace. That was it. Just you and him, in front of the television, wrapped under a single blanket, wearing matching clothes and drinking warm tea. He even planned to order food from your favorite fried chicken restaurant with the little money he made doing art commissions. It was supposed to be a surprise and you were supposed to be jumping with joy when you see him holding two tea mugs in his hands, wearing a pumpkin patterned pajama pants and a large plain white cotton shirt big enough for you to climb inside in its warmth.

Is it surprising that when you walked downstairs, saddle bag in hand, dressed in an outfit he’s never seen before (a dress that was certainly revealed too much of your decolletage), he would be furious?

“Where are you going, mom?”

He can feel his stomach drop when your bright eyes suddenly dimmed upon seeing the cups in his hand and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I…” You struggle to find the words, knowing that his gaze is steadily trailing up and down your body. You’ve never dressed like this for any of your previous dates and Jungkook dreaded that you were going to end up in another man’s house, in another man’s bed, and come back reeking of this bastard’s cologne.

“I have a d-date,” your meek reply comes as you walk down the last few flights of stairs and open the shoe closet, grabbing a pair of boots and a clean pair of socks, your back towards him.

“With the same guy?” Jungkook’s voice lowers and you can hear the clinking of porcelain as he sets down the mugs on the coffee table, next to the rental DVD.

You nod. “Yeah.”

When you risk a glance towards him, you regret it immediately. Jungkook’s fists are clenched at his sides, his jaw is tight, and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

“Kookie,” you sigh, dropping your shoes back onto the rack to stride towards his tall figure cloaked in semi-darkness. “I’ll be back soon, maybe around midnight, okay?”

“The last time you said that you didn’t even come home. I was worried sick.” Jungkook pulls away from you when you reach to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m a detective,” you chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. The pitter-patter of the rain outside isn’t helping nor is Jungkook’s anger seeping out of every pore. “You know there’s nothing to worry ab-“

“It’s easy for you to say, mom. It’s easy for you to pick up your bag and go because you never look forward to our plans like I do. You never think for a second that maybe I want to spend the night with you and not have to wait for your leftover time like…like a pet.”

Has he always felt that way? It seems almost impossible given you spent your waking hours showering him with affection.

You pressed your lips together. “I didn’t know we were going to spend time today and I always, always prioritize your needs above mine. Don’t ever say that to me. Where is this coming from? Jungkook, if you need me to-”

Whatever you said might have struck a nerve within him for he flinched backwards, shaking his head.

“Forget it,” Jungkook takes the mugs back from the coffee table and paces towards the kitchen, knowing you’re trailing behind in concern as you struggle once more to keep him calm.

He knows he’s being unfair. He knows that you may have forgotten to tell him you were going on a date today, that it was his fault for planning a surprise on a holiday when you’re free from work. You only went on your rare dates on your day offs when you didn’t need to go grocery shopping or tend to other household responsibilities. The fact that you bought a new dress tells him all he needs to know about how much you looked forward to this night, even forgiving his snide remarks about your date when you first introduced him months ago. You don’t deserve to be treated this way and it makes Jungkook’s eyes fill with tears not just from frustration but from guilt that you ended up with him, a burden. This wounded, bleeding burden of a boy who falls more and more in love with you as the years go by.

Jungkook hates your little dates where you most likely had sex before coming back to him. The idea of a man kissing your soft nipples, your full hips, the inside of your thighs – it makes him sick with wrath. Jungkook hates that you still see him as the boy you took under your wings all those years ago. Jungkook hates that you’re so comfortable walking around in a towel in front of him because you don’t see him as a man; he knows you would never be that carefree with a date. He owns a piece of you that no other man can see. But his punishment is that he’s kept in this mold of the adopted son he desperately wants to be rid of. Changing his body to become stronger, becoming independent, pretending to be mature most of the time about the idea that a stepfather can appear in his life at any time – Jungkook was sick of it. He was sick of it all.

He throws the mugs in the sink, the two porcelain clattering in cacophony as it hits the sink and cool tea swirls down the drain.

“Jungkook…” your strained, mournful voice reaches his ears and his heart breaks. He can’t breathe, he needs to get out of there, he needs to get out fast.

“Kookie, wait-” You reach for him once more but he turns back into the living room, taking the rental DVD in his hands before he takes the flyer for your favorite restaurant laying haphazardly and balls the paper in his fist.

He skips up the stairs, noticing that you didn’t follow him this time. Somehow that makes it hurt even more.

Jungkook throws the DVD and paper on his bed and opens his closet, reaching for a pair of black sweatpants and a matching hoodie. He sheds off the plain shirt and pajama pants (so much for October festivity) and quickly change into the black set, keeping an ear out for the sound of the front door closing. He grabs his cellphone, his wallet, and keys off the textbooks stacked on his desk and shoves them into his pocket. For a moment he catches his reflection from the mirror pinned to the closet door and Jungkook decides, from his teary red face, that he hates himself more than he hates your dates and your cluelessness.

He’s gotten taller, much taller, stronger, smarter, but emotionally he is still the boy you rescued all those years ago. He’s still the boy who looked up at you and called you his superhero and smiled through the bloody black and purple bruises on his face when you held him and sobbed.

Jungkook slams the door shut behind him as he walks away from the comfort of his bedroom. Stepping down the stairs, he’s surprised to see you sitting on the couch, your feet still bare and your phone clutched in your hand. Why haven’t you left?

“Kookie I’m-“ You pause. You take notice of his attire and take a deep breath. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Please don’t do this,” your voice cracks and Jungkook grinds his teeth. Yes, he hates himself more than ever. He’s self-centered, dramatic, and immature, he thinks, it’s no wonder you won’t see him as anything other than a child. Hell, being regarded as a dog would be better.

“Just go on your date, mom. Sorry for ruining your perfect night or whatever and tell him I said hi.”

Jungkook walks past you to grab his backpack. He won’t be able to focus on schoolwork and he doesn’t have anywhere else to go except Jimin’s house yet he slumps the bag over his shoulder anyway.

“I canceled the date. I’m not going anywhere,” You grab his sleeve, halting him in his tracks before wrapping your arms around him. He’s gotten so large that your fingers barely touch when you hold him.

He’s silent for a second, harsh breaths gradually fading to soft sighs when he hears you sniffle once and lay your forehead on his back.

“…You didn’t have to do that.”

You shake your head. “I should have expected that you’d do something special.”

“It’s not your fault…” Jungkook can see the porcelain cups in the sink from where he’s standing. His cup and yours, the handles designed to fit each other like puzzle pieces. “I’m…I’m just…”

How does he admit that he’s throwing a tantrum because he wants you all to himself? How does he admit that it was unreasonable of him to expect you to read his mind? How does he admit that his heart feels like it’s about to pounce right out of his chest when you’re not near him? It was embarrassing enough for him to slip into your bed at night while you sleep, lying about his nightmares to earn the privilege of your gentle fingers brushing through his hair in your sleepy daze. He might die of shame if he admits that he’s been daydreaming about a night like this when you can be at ease and when he can pretend he’s your lover and pull you close.

Halloween has always been a tradition – not a strict tradition but a tradition nonetheless that is not disrupted by strangers. He’s way past the age of bouncing off the walls for candy and horror movies but he’d hoped that, the older he gets, this ritual of spending time with you and living out a part of his fantasies during special days won’t perish.

“I’m sorry, mom.” Jungkook murmurs at last, letting the rattle of the kitchen windows from the rain keep him grounded. “I…I didn’t mean to be like this. I wanted to surprise you and I just…I got angry and it wasn’t right. I’m sorry. Can you call him again and-?”

“No.”

Jungkook swallows. Forgiveness feels so out of reach. It feels…

“I don’t want to call him.” You continue. “I want to be here with you…if you’ll have me.”

He turns, making you tilt your head towards him to reveal your watery eyes, and wrap his arms around your shoulders, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your perfume smells like heaven. You smell like heaven and you feel ever better pressed to him; soft against solid, molded like the puzzle piece patterned mugs in the sink.

“Do you even have to ask, mom?…I want you here with me. It’s…it’s okay, right? You won’t be mad at me?”

You peck his cheek, tucking your sorrow deep inside like the same way you’ll fold this new dress into a bag and return it to the boutique.

“I will never make you feel alone.”

#bunny:drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bangtan angst #bangtan fanfiction #bts halloween #jungkook halloween #bangtan halloween #bts drabble #bangtan drabble

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

Text

Seahorse (Spencer Reid x Trans Male!Reader) NSFW

Summary: Spencer and Y/N have always wanted kids. Here’s the time Spencer was brave enough to broach the subject of how they would go about it. Plus a few more times after that.

AN: @imagining-in-the-margins came up with the idea of Spencer’s trans bf having a baby amidst man many many prompts for Spencer x male!reader to indulge my daydreaming and I ran with this prompt.

Thank you to @writing-in-april for being my beta on this one! Couldn’t have done it without you, beebs <3

This is the NSFW version. If you are under the age of 18, please do not read! Here’s a SFW version of the story.

Word Count: 5.7k words

Content Warnings: Trans man is pregnant, coming off testosterone, impregnation kink, pre-op sex, allusions to Prison!Spencer.

Masterlist // Gif Credit // SFW Version

The halls echoed with the unbridled joy of little ones calling out “Nemo” and “Dory” at the sight of the clown and surgeon fishes. Spencer bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked around the next room in search of his goal. He stopped when Y/N spared a look in his direction, away from the tank that had captured his attention for a solid five minutes.

“JJ sent me a video of a shrimp solving a Rubik’s Cube the other day.” He grinned.

Ah yes. JJ had also sent Spencer a video of little Henry swinging a mini softball bat about just like Spencer had done. For one game and one game only he had insisted, despite Y/N’s own resolve that he looked hot in the kit.

The walk through the tunnel was the slowest slog Spencer felt, but it was the only attraction in the aquarium to properly distract him. Lights above them filtered through the water, bouncing off the painted walls of the tank in a blue glow. Various species in a perfectly balanced ecosystem swam around one another without a care in the world. A particular stingray flapped its body against the glass, and three children nearby laughed at its funny shaped mouth.

“I used to sit on my mum’s shoulders when we walked through these. Touch the ceiling as if I could pet the fishes.” And Y/N’s hands stretched up over him, his eyes following a shark that slinked overhead, “When I got too old, I’d just press my nose against the glass and stare back.”

Nerves returned at the sight of a circular tank in the centre of the room holding something familiar. Seahorses curled their tails around the plants that waved together like a crowd at a concert. Little babies bobbed about the parents, translucent and wriggly.

Spencer coughed and spoke while Y/N took in the creatures, “Did you know that the seahorse is the only animal where the male carries the children?”

Suddenly his throat was dry; the words he’d been rehearsing dragged to a halt. Y/N turned to face him properly, guiding Spencer to the left as a little girl stood on tiptoe to see the seahorses as he continued to struggle.

“Well, that might not be true actually.” Spencer choked a little on his words, his voice’s volume steadily declining into a soft whisper, “I know that some human men can have babies.”

Y/N’s face clouded with doubt for a moment. Then it clicked and his face cleared, “Spencer, tell me what you’re getting at.”

Spencer twisted his hands around one another, “Have you ever thought about us having kids… biologically?” He watched Y/N’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed hard

“You mean like me being pregnant?”

“Yes, have you considered it an option for us?”

The conversations of other aquarium patrons were forgotten as Y/N took his gaze away from Spencer. His eyebrows were low as he considered his words carefully. Y/N always thought about the implications of what he was saying, maybe a little too much. Spencer could be biased though; his impatience did not mix well with his anxieties.

Eventually, Y/N turned back with a brave face and said, “I’d have to think about it some more.”

“Ok.” Spencer nodded, his chin wobbling a little.

There was hope though: he needed to think “some more”. Implying Y/N had thought about this before.

Near the end of their trip, Spencer did find himself in a staring contest with a little seahorse plushie with large eyes and an anatomically inaccurate tongue hanging out. In all honesty, it was kind of ugly.

“Spencer, come on. You know how I get around stuffed animals.”

How empathetic his boyfriend really was, projecting feelings of love onto the inanimate objects then making the excuse that he had to buy it now.

Spencer did have to leave the toy behind though. Out into the sunlight of the parking lot, he winced before he put his sunglasses back on.

“Park?” Y/N offered his hand and smiled. It was an olive branch, something to say that Spencer’s query had not ruined their day out together.

Spencer accepted and squeezed his hand. “Park.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Y/N had a hand on their lower belly, some space between the fingers as if there was an invisible bump there to accommodate. His head had tilted while he thumbed over the air.

As drowsy as Spencer was from work, his mind was focused without a distraction on what he had seen through the ajar bathroom door. He could barely pay attention to the Doctor Who episode Y/N put on. In fact, he doubted anything could take his attention away from the idea of having a child with-

“What do you think about me being pregnant?”

Spencer’s eyes shot wide open, then they were covered slightly by his inquisitive eyebrows in his attempt find an answer. Especially with Y/N looking on him while he waited for him.

“I think you’d be so beautiful carrying our baby. But if you wouldn’t be comfortable, then I wouldn’t make you. We still have surrogacy, fostering, adoption to consider,” was his answer. Never a lie, but the truth was always softened.

Seemingly satisfied, Y/N looked back at the episode. But Spencer couldn’t wait anymore, forgetting about anything else in the world except for this.

“What do you think, Y/N?” His body leant in towards his boyfriend’s.

Squirming in their spot on the couch, Y/N hummed before he answered, “I froze some of my eggs before I started my transition. I also sold some, for a down payment on a house or my wedding.”

Spencer’s heart thrilled at the possibilities. A house together? Matching suits at their wedding? He almost neglected to think about the fact that pregnancy was suddenly a very viable option for their future.

Regardless of Spencer’s many, many thoughts, Y/N continued, “And I thought that perhaps, if I found the right person, I would like to carry their child.” His palm opened up to him and Spencer instantly took it. “I know you’re the right person, but I’m not sure I want a baby now.”

“Of course,” Spencer lifted Y/N’s hand to his lips, “Whenever we’re both ready.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer pushed the dirty bedsheets into the washing machine; it wasn’t that big a deal. If the blood didn’t come out, then they could always buy a new set. Although they should really be saving money for decorating the nursery.

“Spenceerrrr.”

As the machine rumbled into life, Spencer returned to Y/N, curled up on the sofa with a heat pad to his gut. No amount of warnings from their doctor could have prepared Spencer for how emotionally straining it was to see his boyfriend suffering. Y/N was taking this a lot harder than Spencer – and rightfully so, it was his body that was changing.

“Why did I have to have such strong paternal instincts?” He grumbled with his eyes still closed.

Spencer let out a laugh, but it was cut off quick when Y/N whimpered loudly. He knelt down before him and cupped his face. Y/N’s cheeks were warm; his hands clung to Spencer’s wrists like a lifeline.

“What do you need?” Spencer asked softly and Y/N sighed, keening into his cooler palms.

“Can you tell me I’m handsome please?”

“You are the most handsome man in the world, and I adore you every minute of every day.” Spencer kissed Y/N’s pouting lips gently, “Handsome inside and out, I never wanna think about life without you. You just make everything in my life better.”

His fingers moved to brush away a tear that slipped down Y/N’s face and over the ridge of his nose. But he missed and it dripped onto the pillow.

“You’re doing so much for us, for our baby.”

“It’s not even real yet,” Y/N sniffled. His hands finally released Spencer and pressed the heat pad into him.

“It’s gonna be.” Spencer bumped their noses together, “We’re gonna be dads.”

A hoarse laugh met with a hint of a groan in Y/N’s chest, “Yeah. We’re gonna be dads.” That sound and those words were all Spencer needed to feel better. But he wished the same could be said for Y/N. The only thing he could provide was a promise of future relief:

“How about we order in tonight?”

“Ugh, yes.” Y/N burrowed his face into the pillow.

When their bed was made up properly, Spencer and Y/N cuddled together. Unfortunately, Y/N was restless, trying to find a comfortable position while his painkillers kicked in. Spencer kept his complaints to himself, allowing himself to be shifted around in Y/N’s hunt for relief. Honestly it was the least he could do.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“The reproductive process begins when a male and a female seahorse do daily pre-dawn dances, intertwining their tails and swimming together.”

“Well, it’s nearly nine, so definitely past dawn.”

“I’m trying to be romantic, Y/N.”

Y/N adjusted the bed sheets around his middle, “We don’t have tails either and - if I remember correctly - your last sexy swimming encounter ended poorly.”

Spencer flushed at the memory of Lila in the pool; another memory turned the pink to red. Y/N had laughed so hard his gut ached when Spencer told him about how awkward he had been around Lila. This was before the context of the case had been disclosed, promptly removing the space for any more laughter.

“Baby?”

Y/N was touching his face. Spencer’s head emptied itself of all thoughts of Lila. This was not what he wanted to be thinking about right now. Y/N’s laughter maybe, but none of the rest.

Tucking a curl behind his ear, Y/N leant in close, “If I’m ready, and you’re ready, you know what happens.” His eyes wandered down Spencer’s face, “And it’s not swimming together.”

But, just as their lips were about to touch, Y/N jerked away from him. “Wait, I gotta brush my teeth first.”

Spencer moaned with indignation while falling backwards onto the bed as Y/N disappeared from view. A few seconds later, he heard the electric toothbrush buzzing. With a burst of energy, he stripped himself down to his underwear – a petty way to get back at Y/N who had made it very clear that undressing Spencer was one of his favourite parts of their sex life.

When Y/N returned, with the minty freshness he apparently desired more than his own boyfriend, he said “What? You already did this morning?” His eyes looked down at Spencer’s chest and his lips twitched into a pout.

Spencer held back his grin, keeping his triumph at retaliation to himself as he said, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard, Spencer.”

And with that, Y/N crawled onto the bed, over Spencer’s body and kissed him silly.

Any remaining thoughts of sleep were dispelled as the men took turns worshipping each other’s bodies. Impatience chased them in their desires, deliciously enticing them to push the pleasure further and faster. While Y/N kissed his neck, Spencer’s thoughts fixated on how perfect his boyfriend felt pressed up next to him. He couldn’t wait anymore, he just had to get inside him.

“Let me put a baby in you, Y/N.”

A whine passed through Y/N’s lips at his words as he adjusted his grasp on Spencer’s body, a hand in his hair to pull him back in.

“Do it.” He whispered into the space between them, “Please.”

As quick as they appeared, the insecurities Spencer and Y/N were holding released. Their moans harmonised when Spencer finally pushed into Y/N. His legs wrapping around his skinny waist, luring him in. Spencer was enraptured by the feeling of his boyfriend’s weight against him. God, he wanted to go slow, appreciate Y/N for all he was worth. But his greed got the better of his intentions, eating up all of Y/N’s encouragements – both the words and the noises snatched from his throat.

When they were both spent, Spencer and Y/N sagged into the mattress, wrapped up in each other and the covers. The burning warmth of their bodies drew up two soporific smiles on their faces.

“You know, a seahorses’ body shape means that they’re inept swimmers, and they can actually die of exhaustion.”

Y/N poked Spencer’s sternum. “Is that your way of makin’ fun of my stamina? Give me a few minutes; I’ll be on you like a rash.”

Grinning at such a prospect, Spence continued, “They also mate for life monogamously.”

He felt two fingers touch his cheek, "Spencer, I love you and your endless fountain of knowledge.” Y/N paused to peck the corner of his lips, “But I’m not actually a seahorse. And, though I do plan to mate with you for life, if you wake me up before the sun is above the horizon for a ‘dance’, I'm gonna suffocate you with my new body pillow.”

“Oh, you got your pillow?”

“It’s en route.” Hence why Y/N was content to use Spencer in lieu of said pillow.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

When Spencer disclosed to Hotch that he would need some time off because he and Y/N were considering having a kid, first thing on a Monday morning, Hotch didn’t let anything on. There was a hint of a hint of a smile though. His eye wandered to the school photo of Jack he kept on his desk, and he was greeted with the memory that Jack almost shared a name with Emily’s cat.

Naturally, Rossi found out next. Technophobe Spencer Reid had left his computer screen on a website for baby blankets, and Rossi had been the one to pass by first. After turning the monitor off, Rossi took Spencer aside in the break room and spoke about how wonderful it was that he was going to be a father. Then he kissed both his cheeks, leaving with misty eyes and a smile that he wouldn’t explain to Penelope passing by. Spencer blinked then finished making his coffee.

The next conference room meeting – the same day and just for an update on the paperwork deadline - Spencer simply decided to drop the information that he and Y/N were planning on having a kid as if it was his thoughts on their next unsub’s motivations were.

Three seconds of silence later and an uproar exploded.

From then on, the week was filled with pokes and ribbing at his upcoming parenthood. A peek into the future.

After making her a cup of coffee, Spencer sat opposite JJ at her desk and asked for advice. Her response: offering Spencer the opportunity to babysit Henry more. Obviously he accepted; more time with his godson was always a good thing. Then she went into how parenting was just a natural thing that he would know when the time came. Not very reassuring on its own, but with his best friend’s support, Spencer felt a smidgen better.

Penelope admitted that she had saved outfit ideas on Pinterest for Spencer – among other members of the BAU. When Spencer dared to enter her lair, she showed him several. Apparently that wasn’t even a dent in her collection, and she had already placed an order on a little bow tie. Spencer left before she tried to organise a shopping trip; neither Spencer nor Y/N were really fans of retail therapy.

Derek was teasing away, “Spencer and Y/N are gonna be baby daddies.” And every single time, Emily would join in. She liked to claim she was the reason Spencer was having a kid, reminding him of when JJ was pregnant. He had been incredibly weirded out by the baby kicking, but Emily had asked if he had considered having “baby geniuses” and he never gave an answer.

To be fair, Spencer never could have seen this coming. That made it all the better.

Apart from when Derek began supplying a realm of baby names, that varied from “oh that’s actually cute” to “oh my god, why would you even consider that a name for a real child?” Spencer was happy to rank them aloud for him.

The cat was only half out of the bag though.

Now Spencer had always been affectionate when he and Y/N were together. But the second it spilled into their public lifestyle, Y/N knew something was afoot. He was quick to pick up on this when he went to collect Spencer up for a chilled date night and Spencer kissed his cheek in clear view of the entire bullpen.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t wait, but I do have my paternity leave arranged!”

The team swarmed to deliver their congratulations. And it was then that they revealed that they all thought that Spencer and Y/N were planning to adopt or look for a surrogate. Their embraces didn’t spoil the unexpected second part of their announcement; Y/N looked like he’d simply put on a few pounds rather than gained a baby bump beneath his button-up. Naturally, there was even more of a hubbub than before when they discovered that Y/N was already pregnant.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Spencer, baby, you gotta calm it with the ocean theme.”

“But…” he pouted, holding up the finished mobile. Brightly painted sea creatures and chunks of coral dangled delicately in a circle. Sure enough, there were orange seahorses hovering about their habitat.

“It’s very sweet and I adore you for it,” Y/N kissed Spencer. “Not everything has to be related to seahorses though.”

“I guess not.” Spencer’s defeated tone did not last long. His face brightened and he whipped a blanket adorned with little seahorses and bubbles at the edges out of the cot. “But - this online store was taking commissions, and you always say support small businesses!”

Thank god Y/N had been the one in charge of painting the walls. An underwater mural would have been a step too far.

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, are so…” Y/N’s hands were up in the air between them, searching for an adjective to describe Spencer appropriately. Then he settled those hands on his shoulders and Y/N kissed him.

When they drew away, Spencer spoke, “I’m so what?”

Y/N shrugged, “Just so.” He kissed him again, lingering longer than before and smiling as Spencer’s hands touched the obtrusive roundness of his belly that pressed into Spencer’s stomach. They were so close to meeting their little bubba.

“So are you.”

“Ok, don’t have a go, I bought this before the ban,” Y/N held out a gift, wrapped in sea-green tissue paper and bearing a blue bow.

Folding the blanket neatly over the bars of the cot, Spencer eagerly yet daintily unwrapped the present. As the tissue paper fell to the carpet, his hands trembled. Eyes shining, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the latest scan that was framed by tiny seahorses to thank Y/N.

There was more still, as Y/N explained, “There’s another behind there. I’ve seen the state of the one in your wallet.”

“It got caught at the bottom of the pouch,” Spencer said quietly, unbending the catch on the back of the frame. Sure enough, two of the same photographs spilled into his waiting palm. Truth be told, Spencer had already taped his torn photo together again and it was going to stay in his wallet. This spare would be in the post soon, on its way over to his mother. God, she was so excited to hold a baby again. The photo album would have to do for now.

“Could you maybe recant the ocean ban? Because I saw this and I knew it would really go well with the blanket and the mobile.”

Sighing, Y/N’s head tilted back, “What is it?”

The pretence of annoyance couldn’t be maintained towards Spencer’s face beaming back at him as he held up a wonky looking seahorse plushie. It wasn’t the same one he’d seen before. Some heartfelt child had taken pity on that one and given it a forever home. No, this was a perfect little present for his bubba.

Y/N thought so too as he let a grin settle onto his face.

“Ok, we can keep this one. But no more from now, alright?”

“I suppose. Besides, our baby isn’t our seahorse. You are!”

“You better not buy us a fish tank for my birthday.” A spike of nerves hit Y/N when he couldn’t quite catch Spencer’s eye to confirm his word. “Spencer? Promise me... Spencer!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“How are you feeling, Baby Daddy?” Derek hugged Y/N who was reclined in his bed. His body pillow propped him up for his visitors.

Y/N wrinkled his nose, “For once, I wish I was a real seahorse and I could have just sneezed her out.”

Katia Nikola Reid definitely looked like she’d been sneezed on when she first entered the world, screaming her teaspoon-sized lungs out. Named after a hero of both Y/N and Spencer, one day old, bundled in a blanket, she scowled at Spencer’s dopey face looming over her while Emily held her tight.

A hoard of presents huddled in the corner of Spencer and Y/N’s bedroom. Emily thought it’d be a great idea to bring the baby an Ikea shark that was bigger than the child – and would definitely take up around half of her cot.

“She’s already got him wrapped around her pinky finger.”

“Yes, she does,” Spencer agreed giddily.

Next, Derek took her in his arms, untucking her arms from the blanket swaddle to give her a fist bump. He swayed her about the room while Katia relaxed a little more. The deep humming in his chest soothed the wrinkles on her forehead. Katia stretched as if to touch his face, and her mouth gaped at him.

“Aww, baby genius is ready for a nap.” Derek yawned too, “Who’s gonna micromanage me while I put her down?”

“Me! Me!” Y/N said, his enthusiasm muted by tiredness. Spencer leapt to his side, helping him out of bed, his teammates watching fondly as he did so. Y/N was allowed out the room first, Derek close behind and clicking his tongue at little Katia.

“She’s so sweet,” Emily said, her eyes on the pair’s backs and the dangling loose blanket from under Derek’s left arm. “I’m so happy for you both.” And she hugged Spencer tight; Emily always gave such good hugs. Good thing she was going to be around to give plenty to his daughter.

Then, down the hall, he heard Derek say with sarcastic resignation, “Oh Spencer, I thought Y/N was kidding when he said no more seahorse themed items.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N ended up climbing into the bathtub with Katia. Even as she had grown into her chubby features, looking more and more like him and Spencer with each passing day, she was still so small.

Sitting up with her in his lap to help her out, Y/N lowered her into the warm water. His fingers tenderly rubbed the blackcurrant scented soap on her tummy, copying her expression as her tongue poked out between her gums. Her jerking legs rejected the water that Y/N’s hands cupped to rinse the bubbles off.

“Oh!” Y/N said in surprise as Katia sneezed, “Bless you.”

He heard the front door go, but he let Spencer follow the clues to their bathroom. Sure enough, the Doctor soon entered with his jacket shed, already rolling his sleeves up as he dropped onto the bathmat. A hand curled at Y/N’s chin as he kissed him before it stroked over the damp wisps of hair on Katia’s head.

“Hello. Hi.” His voice was that bit more delicate as he caught Katia’s eye and welcomed her big gappy smile.

Y/N tilted his head towards Spencer. “Good first day back?”

“I missed you both.” Spencer swished the water around by Katia’s side, “Isn’t it incredible how she’s experiencing all of this for the first time?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Spencer giggled away as the surrounding bathwater yellowed and Katia flapped her arms.

“Mind your language.” He said without any weight to his warning, “Our little girl can’t help it.” Then he stood and prepared her towel, a deep-sea blue that brought out her eyes. “Can I feed her tonight?”

“Of course, baby,” Y/N agreed as he lifted Katia out of the tub, where Spencer caught her and bundled her up with skilled speed. As he dried her off, Katia cooed away to herself. She did get a little pissed off when he dressed her up in a clean nappy and a sleepsuit, but Spencer couldn’t take her crumpled expression seriously without the tears.

The rocking chair had to be one of his best investments for his daughter’s room. It soothed Katia from the darkest of tantrums, a familiarity that swayed her. She fit so perfectly into Spencer’s arms and he fit so contentedly into the seat. Her eyelashes fluttered slowly shut as she drank more milk.

Not quite strong enough to sit up on her own, Katia leant fully into Spencer’s hand while he burped her – thankfully not for long. Then it was off into her cot.

Y/N watched him from the doorway as Spencer stroked the apple of Katia’s cheek while she drifted off into slumber. An effortless smile danced on his lips even as he switched the lamp off and welcomed Y/N over to see their sleeping babe.

“Love seeing you with her, Old Daddy Spencer teaching her everything she’ll need to know.” The kiss that followed was certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s nursery, so he took Y/N by the hand, leading him into the hallway. Even then, between the short pecks that pressed against his lips, Y/N continued to talk, “Is this how you felt while I was pregnant?”

Breath hot against his face, Spencer swallowed hard while Y/N said, “Seeing my handsome boyfriend carrying our child? I think I get it now.”

His hand slipped up Spencer’s shirt. It was crystal clear what his intentions were. Spencer was already close to panting when he pulled Y/N flush against him. With more desperation this time, they fumbled around their home until they made it to their bed. Spencer’s hands aligned with the stretch marks on Y/N’s thighs as he grabbed them and pulled him on top.

He huffed as Y/N’s teeth tugged and released his bottom lip, “We have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.” Y/N ripped off his shirt in one smooth movement, “Can you?”

Spencer couldn’t give an answer. Instead he pulled Y/N back against him as they fell onto their sheets.

Their first time in months, it didn’t last very long, but it was exactly what they needed.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The biggest surprise of the evening was that Rossi put down his drink to hold Katia. To be fair though, he had already had a few. Hence why he was singing and dancing around the garden with Katia in his arms. What a sight to behold, it eased the pain of Derek and Hotch’s absence, their own kids to take care of now.

Eventually Rossi relented, allowing Penelope to take Katia, turning to Y/N who had kept a watchful eye on his actions, “Promise me you’ll bring her over when she’s allowed to eat food.”

“I can’t give her your food for her first taste. She’ll be disappointed for the rest of her life,” Y/N joked, Rossi letting out a boisterous laugh that made Katia giggle in turn.

Penelope got to hold Katia next and show her off to Henry who was very intrigued to learn more about his godsister – Spencer told him that was who Katia was and it stuck. Henry became Penelope’s little shadow until they found a seat for him and a cushion for his lap to hold the baby. His joy unbridled at such a responsibility was adorable. He posed for many photos, while Katia for once stayed quiet.

Spencer was tired but the best kind of tired. A night in with friends, watching his boyfriend and his daughter be welcomed as much as he was, it wasn’t a surprise but it was always a delight. And this moment right now, Y/N cradling Katia’s with one hand squeezing her little foot before he planned to take her into Rossi’s office? What a life they had cultivated together. As he sipped his drink, the bliss in his tummy was not doused by it.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Slouching on the sofa, Spencer watched with tired eyes as Katia stumbled in the room, her hands held in Y/N’s while she waddled between his legs. Her round face lit up at the sight of Spencer. Her pace increased beyond her abilities and Katia swung forward a little as she almost fell over.

“Oh dear,” Y/N cooed while Katia got back to her unstable feet. “That’s it, there we go.”

Spencer wished he had the energy to properly appreciate this moment, especially since both his boyfriend and their daughter were grinning like they shared a secret.

Katia dropped down onto her nappy-cushioned bottom then began to crawl over to Spencer’s feet. His hands, although dirty, rough and near ruined, accepted her offer and lifted Katia up into his lap. They stayed for safety around her middle, keeping her sat up straight as she looked on him with those big eyes. Eyes that were fresh and untainted copies of his own.

Y/N sat down beside Spencer, leaning in close to Katia so he caught her attention, “Hey, why don’t you show your Daddy what we’ve been practicing?”

Looking away from both her Dads, Katia drooled and pushed her fist in her mouth. Y/N waved until he and Spencer were back into her line of sight.

“Go on, sugar plum.” He pointed to Spencer, “Who’s that?” And he mouthed the answer to her.

“Dadadadadada.”

It was barely above a whisper. But her little grin, the top of a tooth poking out of the centre of her bottom gums, the way Katia looked at Spencer when she said it? A soft “oh” fell from Spencer’s lips and he clutched her close, her chubby arms barely reaching around his neck. His breath shaking out of him, he kissed the thick thatch of hair that had sprouted in his absence. He could feel Katia whispering “Dadadadada!” again.

“That’s me, Katia, I’m your Dada.” He sniffed back the sting in his eyes at the absolute proof that, in his time away from her, she had remembered him. When he moved away, placing Katia back into his lap, he closed his eyes as Katia’s scrabbling fingers rubbed across the tip of his nose.

Katia made a sudden attempt to stand, throwing her entire bodyweight towards Spencer. Spencer’s breath was snatched from his lungs and the tension remained even after he caught her with ease.

“You ok?” Y/N said and Spencer noticed that his hand was supporting his against Katia.

Spencer nodded weakly, “Hmm, you?”

“Better now.” Y/N let his hand go and began rubbing Spencer’s back in the same circular motions that Spencer rubbed Katia’s.

A tug snagged Spencer’s head to the left and he tutted as Katia grabbed at his cheek, “Ow, Katia, no.”

Instead, Katia took a fistful of the next thing she could find, which was Spencer’s hair, and she cried out an identical (if higher pitched) “Ow!”

“You hurt Spencer, not the other way around, Katia. Stop faking.” Y/N scolded playfully.

But Katia repeated Spencer’s outburst again, “Ow!”

Y/N lifted Katia’s little fist from Spencer’s hair, and it immediately clamped down on Spencer’s finger as an alternative to wave about.

Spencer kissed her hand, still so tiny and forgiving against his. He looked at Y/N, blinking fast as he half-heartedly said, “She’s so like you.”

The lock of hair Katia had yanked on curved around Y/N’s touch as he put it back into the disarray of fluff that stood around Spencer’s head, “That’s funny, because I think she’s so like you.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Tilting the pram onto its back wheels, Spencer pushed it up the step and into the aquarium tunnel. Katia lay back in her seat while gumming on her blanket corner. Her eyes were ready to take in the sights.

Y/N knelt before her, suffering a few kicks to his knees from Katia’s excitement. Her pram clips were undone. Little Katia was released into her Daddy’s arms then plonked up onto his shoulders. Her starfish-like hands pressed up against the glass. Her mouth became as wide as her eyes as she pointed at the stingray rippling past. She had seen fish before (Carl and Rosalind at home) but never like this.

“Yeah, that’s a ray, Katia,” Y/N rubbed his fingers over her back, his hands still to keep her steady.

Spencer pointed his finger right next to hers, “They use their electro-sensors, not their eyes, to find their meals which consists of shrimps, clams, and -”

Katia shrieked – interrupting his and she smacked her hands against the glass. No one seemed to mind though. Some patrons in the tunnel even chuckled at her behaviour. Like she needed any more encouragement, especially with Y/N grinning up at her and tickling her sides to elicit more laughter from his daughter.

When Spencer’s hand dropped, Katia shouted again. A little confused, he returned it and Katia took his finger in her hand then began dragging the tip across where the ray was.

“She wants it as a pet, what do you say, baby?”

“I thought you said not to get you any fish for your birthday.”

Eventually Katia was returned to the pram. Her head was thrown back to watch the rest of the tunnel go by. Then she hid her face in her blankie once they were out in the last few exhibits. There was a little tug of war to get her to let it go (she was a lot stronger than Y/N gave her credit for) and see the one other exhibit that both parents were invested in.

Taking her hand again, Spencer squatted beside the pram. “Hey look, the men seahorsies have the babies. They’re just like your Daddy.”

“Your favourite Daddy,” Y/N ruffled Spencer’s hair while Spencer pretended to be outraged. Katia caught onto the dramatic expression Spencer was wearing and copied him with a gasp added for good measure.

“What d’you reckon, any of these were babies when we went to visit last time?”

“Well, Y/N, the lifespan of these seahorses is approximately a year. So they could be.” He knew it was unlikely but, for the sake of the smiles on Y/N’s and Katia’s face, Spencer let it be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #my writing #smut #wc: 5k+#yes katia is named after a character from professor layton #and nikola tesla #r: male #r: trans male #spencer reid x trans male reader

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evilwriter37 · 4 years ago

Text

Whump Tropes Tag Game

Tagged by @ouchthatwasgood

List your top three whump tropes and tag people.

Whoever gets tagged gets to say how they feel about your top three tropes.

After finishing that, they then list their top three tropes, and the tagging cycle goes on!

1) stabbbbb yeah. Not original but just, you know when the whumpee gets stabbed and then they look up and make eye contact with the person who stabbed them? And then they collapse? Cradling their wound? Yeah. That. What can I say.

2) Jumping off this last one—collapse. You know whether the whumpee is poisoned, faint, hit in the head, having a panic attack, they collapse, and this is usually preferred when others are around too, cause then everyone’s like “ah! Oh my god!” And “I guess we’ll have to carry them” ya know?

3) the car transport—you know what I mean. The good ‘Ol car transport. The whumpee’s just been shot or stabbed or collapsed or mortally wounded and now their friends are rushing them to preferably a safe house or something to take care of them. Sometimes someone’s in the back comforting them, sometimes the driver keeps looking back to make sure their still alive. Yes.

My opinion:

Stabbing is so good! I love stabbing my whumpees. The blood is just wonderful, and ooh, the pain.

Collapse is really great too! I love it when the whumpee falls into someone's arms.

Hm, not much a fan of car transport honestly. Maybe because the universe my whumpee is in doesn't have cars. There's dragon transport, but still not much a fan of that. It's hard to write.

And @justwhumpythings

Forced to watch. It doesn’t get any better than this.* Two whumpees for the price of one, and it just makes all the emotions and the suffering more intense. Plus afterwards, some nice trauma-bonding.

Fear/non-fight danger responses (freeze response, etc.). I’m not much of a one for tough-guy main whumpees, I’m afraid. I love it when they’re trying to be strong, but I want to see the terror in their eyes.

Simple, ‘battle-field’-type injuries. A staple of my whump-daydreaming life. GSWs, stabbings, broken bones: the character’s been in a fight, and oh no, they’ve gone and gotten themselves some nasty penetrating trauma, how awful. I hope they don’t bleed everywhere. Be a shame if that shattered tibia caused them to scream every time they tried to move. Just, the classics.

My opinion:

Forced to watch is absolutely wonderful. Especially if it's just something completely terrible. I love that trope.

I don't write freeze responses too much, as my whumpees usually are fighters. I also have too much personal history with that one to feel comfortable writing it.

Yes, yes, yes! Battle-field injuries are the absolute best! I use them all the time. I feel like I write a lot of fight scenes, so it happens a lot. They're fun.

My tropes:

Whipping. Written it a million times and probably will continue to do so. I just love fucking up a whumpee that way. The slashes, the screams, the blood. And usually you have to undress or partially undress the whumpee for whipping, which just leaves them more vulnerable.

Bondage. I love tying up my whumpees. I usually do something simple to leave them vulnerable, but putting them in stress positions can be super fun.

Uh, yeah, this one's not very popular and gets me some hate, but I can't not include it: I love noncon. Anything the whumpee doesn't agree to, that hurts them emotionally, maybe physically, is so good. It gives them a whole new sense of horror.

Tagging @lifbitch and @howtowhumpyourhiccup

#whump #whump tropes #noncon mention #long post

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tosikoarts · 4 years ago

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SFW Alphabet | Koito Otonoshin

WAP reference? In my SFW alphabet? More likely than you think. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

First of all, everybody in the radius of two kilometers knows that Koito has fallen in love. He isn’t loud about it but it is written all over his smug face 24/7: when he starts daydreaming about them (which he does a lot), faint blush covers swarthy cheeks and his eyes fixate at the farthest point on the horizon. Tsukishima has to call three times before the Second Lieutenant finally notices his presence.

Okay, maybe, he is a little louder than was previously stated. Koito hasn’t had a lot of love experience so for him it is a bumpy road of trials and errors. Considering his behavior in front of First Lieutenant Tsurumi, easy to imagine how he awkwardly stutters in the crush’s presence, switching between native Satsuma dialect and classical Japanese. As they grow closer, nervousness dies down, and Koito finally talks like normal people do! Oh, he is such a show-off. However, he is a sweetheart as well so his talk comes across as a nice kid trying to be overly cool. Makes tons of compliments but can’t take any himself. No, he does. No, he doesn’t. Koito is a mess that thinks about small compliments for weeks. You say he looks nice with hair parted down the middle and this young man never goes back to his previous haircut.

It is serious when Koito starts rapturously venting to Tsukishima about them. At first, Otonoshin starts asking subtle questions not to seem too inexperienced. Then he asks for advice on how to dress, what to give as a present, how to act in general. If there are any problems in the relationship, Koito will 100% craw to his Sergeant for help.

One of the first and generally the main way of affection for Koito is giving pricy presents. Even when he is trying not to flex on wealth, it comes across as disguised bragging. Gifts given are always unique and of quality, so there is no reason to be indignant.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

His best friend has to be either someone from childhood or the Imperial Japanese Army Academy. Koito won’t befriend anyone in the actual military (except one exhausted Sergeant) since he has a fear of becoming a career trampoline.

Koito squanders the money on entertainment with no remorse and no shame. If he gets a new Western-style suit, his best friend will receive one in the mail too. On nights out Koito generously pays for the food and drinks, saying that they will pay next time but the next time never actually comes. There is some money in his bank account, why not spend it?

His best friend automatically becomes a part of his family and friend of Tsukishima. Koito doesn’t ask, he confidently states it. If they for some reason do not want to be close with the listed contingent, Koito faces cognitive dissonance and, notwithstanding, tries to improve relations between them.

Koito is not a stranger to gossiping and petty drama. He doesn’t get involved ever since his family has a status to maintain, but he knows what skeletons are hidden in the neighbors’ bedroom closet. His best friend hears the phrase “You won’t believe what I know” more often than “First Lieutenant is so amazing”. By the way, yes, Koito is still that fangirl and they have to deal with it.

Eh, you can’t rely on him in troubles, though. He will unapologetically push the blame on another person to stay an innocent good boy that was accidentally dragged in the mess, but he will make amends after the noise dies down.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He is so touchy-touchy-lovey-dowey, oh my god, just like you would expect from a touched-starved young man. Koito has no problems with PDA, he enjoys gazes fixed on him, so it is not uncommon to see him with the partner on the lap. Tsukishima learned to turn a blind eye and do some extra work to give the Second Lieutenant more time with his loved one. Koito prefers spooning to any other position so he can press them against his chest and fall asleep in their warmth. Sweetheart cradle is the second-best option but, honestly, Koito is down to anything that includes any of his limbs resting on their body.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Too young (especially in the mental sphere) to think about settling down. He is 20 years old or something, right? Koito doesn’t even know what he wants, what his principles are, what his life guidelines are, so no, there’s no way he thinks about settling down any time soon. Perhaps in 3-5-10 years, after his father knocks some sense into the guy, Koito will come to the conclusion that it's time for a new chapter in his life but definitely not now. Oh, also, he is useless in the household. He can’t cook, he can’t clean (and he can’t tell how he got this ring).

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

That doesn’t go well at all. Pangs of conscience do not give him the chance to pretend and delay the moment for too long but Koito can’t just say “yeah, that’s it” and walk away as nothing happened either. He chooses the most feckless option – cruelly distancing himself and making them lose interest in the relationship. Once the decision is made, there’s no going back. Koito's interest in his military career rises significantly and, suddenly, he is always busy disciplining juniors, taking additional trips wherever First Lieutenant sends him, surprising everybody with an overwhelming passion for small arms… Yeah, I’d say that boy sus.

If the time spent apart doesn’t kill their fire, Koito will go full mean mode and start acting like a literal jerk. It’s small comments that hurt the most: he finds them too loud or too quiet, too touchy or too cold, yadda yadda. Unreasonable ostentatious attacks of jealousy? Hell yes. His goal is to get on their nerves even if it means still small voice will whisper what a terrible person he is. Regrets the childish behavior months later but won’t admit it no matter what. Fights the desire to crawl back to them for a year or so.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It's too early to talk about it. Again, he is standing on the doorstep of real-life and significant changes like getting married and starting a family are not even close to his vision of the future. Koito hesitates much and overthinks more so there is no point in waiting for a proposal in the first two years of a relationship. There are vulnerable moments when he doubts his own suitability for marriage. They may lead either to deep conversations with psychological aspects (remember the gnawing feeling of being a family failure?) or to abrupt distancing but in both cases, Koito pulls himself together and remembers: if such an amazing person chose him among another than he must be special.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

One of the few soldiers who were left damaged but not broken, so gentleness does not just smolder, but burns in Koito's heart. When it comes to being gentle, he is a physical manifestation of fondness: it beams from his eyes, radiates from his touch, and hides in his choice of the words. Someone may find it inconsistent, but brutality outside the battlefield, in any type of relationship, seems unnecessary to him as well. In a physical sense, Koito is quite remarkable in his raring, so his actions can come off a little sloppy, rushed, and aggressive.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Exciting hugs! Koito trembles from the top of his head to the tips of the toes when he gets a chance to hug his loved one even if it is the tenth time this day. Most often, he starts with a fast welcome kiss on the cheek before pulling them into the tight embrace: it is heartwarming but never the same, which makes a person wanting to come back for another dose of unconditional love. Koito is down to hug at any time of the day, of the week, of the month and, honestly, he sees it as one of the most gentle and innocent expressions of affection.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Blurts it out by accident after half of a year of stale dating. The delightful feeling of sentiment overwhelmed him to the point of blinding adoration so Koito couldn’t stop himself from an unexpected confession. With head resting on his hands and cheek muscles twitching from the continuous wide silly smiling, Koito just blurted out what came to his mind at the moment, realizing what that was a few seconds later. To avoid embarrassment at all costs, he played dumb even though everything was written on his face in bright red color. Whatever. Conscious confession isn’t that easy. He is full of love but translating it in an understandable voiced statement is freaking work.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Whether he is a witness to his loved one being a flirt or his loved being hit on, Koito is l i v i d. In the first case scenario, his ego is hurt so badly, he storms from the room to avoid throwing a tantrum right there on the spot. Any attempts to speak with him after what happened result in loud indisputable “don’t touch me” and silent treatment for a good week or so. The mere thought of being replaceable terrifies poor Koito, it forces him into unhealthy coping like acting demonstratively independent and detached to show them he can do it solo. We’ll pretend it is not a desperate tactic to punish them, ok ok. When his love is being hit on, Koito does not even assess the situation. He rushes to the partner to save the day, steps between them and another person, laughs it off, and asks his rival if there’s any problem. Usually, confrontation is pretty effective against unwelcome suitors. Thank god, because Koito wouldn’t want to get physical anyway.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Awwww, have you ever imagined yourself as a teacher? Too bad because as much as passionate he is, Koito is hopeless. Literally. Lack of experience affects his (non-existing) technique. Couldn’t figure out he had to open his lips for a French kiss, leave alone any abstruse tricks, and knowledge of more sensitive spots to pay attention to. All preferences in the form of instructions have to be said aloud: Koito may act like he doesn’t need them, he is so cool and mature, and only losers need to be guided, but in reality, the opposite is true. Thanks to the above-mentioned features, his favorite kisses vary from pecks on the cheek to thigh and hand kisses but they never include kisses on the lips. If the partner is the same height or taller, he prefers to be kissed on the temple and top of his head. In other cases, doesn’t have any preferences.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

There are times when you have to do what you have absolutely no idea how to do, and it perfectly describes Koito’s relationships with kids. Somehow, they are on the same level but at different poles: he would rather cry because of how annoying capricious baby is than find any way to calm them down. Changing a dirty diaper is a challenge like no other, and going to the continent for a little girl protected by the company of bloodthirsty, armed to the teeth veterans sounds a lot easier (and not so disgusting) than babysitting a single baby. Older children are fine if they know how to keep themselves occupied and out of the sight. On his watch, there is always a small chance that the house will catch fire or the most active child will break their arm. Requires obligatory supervision of a more experienced babysitter.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

No one is leaving the bed in the morning. Sleeping in is inevitable. Do not plan anything for the first part of the day because if Koito chooses to devote the weekends to the lovely company of his partner that means he will squeeze every single second spent together out of it. It doesn’t matter what they do in the bed, like cuddling, talking, doing something spicy (youtube censorship much?) as long as they remain under a warm blanket. Koito giggles a lot catching their soft gaze on his lips, tickles them when silence falls. If the couple stays in the family house, servants are ordered to prepare the tastiest breakfast with gourmet chai tea as well as to find possible entertainment for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

The end of the day is the last opportunity to let off steam before getting into a slower pace, and, finally, going to bed. To no surprise, Koito prefers activities aimed at the work of muscles and not of brains. Nothing too extreme though. Horseback riding is a common pastime if they are not in the mood for anything else. In other cases, Koito offers to play cricket in the summertime and go ice-skating in winter but his all-time favorite is swimming in sun-warmed waters of a crystal clear river. Despite the cold underwater currents winding around the ankles, Koito can swim in circles for hours without letting his loved one go ashore. If they are up for a challenge, competitions for who can hold their breath longer and swim to the other side faster are always a choice.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

As soon as they let Koito know that they are interested (doesn’t matter in him personally or in him speaking), the dam breaks. He is ready to talk about anything, from how the day was to the meaning of life, the role of the monarchy in the future of Japan, and what influence Heinojou’s death had on him. So to say, Koito sees no problem in opening up early in the relationship. There are no forbidden topics in his mind except, maybe, what is so below the beltline: starting any intimate conversation reduces Koito to a red stammering (in Satsuma dialect of course) mess. It gets better with time.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Chill enough? Not in the Tsukishima’s sense of “I have seen too much shit in my life so I am no longer surprised by anything and I expect nothing as well” but in a cheery and optimistic outlook. If he breaks a plate or cup, it is a reason to buy a new one, not to throw a tantrum on how Japan no longer makes quality dishes. How boring life would be without nuisances, huh? However, Koito immediately blows off when it comes to serious matters like life-threatening situations. Overall? Absolute ray of sunshine, anger is unnecessary, keep calm and take it easy.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Remembers nothing but anniversaries’ dates. Seriously. Don’t expect Koito to compliment your eyes’ color, he doesn’t remember it. Favorite food or place? Did you mention them at all? Hm. Blame it on the charm of the moment that hypnotized Koito and sent him into oblivion. He doesn't bother himself with writing down any facts and details and is visibly surprised if the partner expresses frustration with his forgetfulness.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Perhaps it will be a surprise but the most memorable moment for Koito would be doing “bad stuff” together. As for a person, who has not yet emerged from cheerful adolescence, drinking, smoking cigarettes, and, who would have thought, opium together leaves a weird feeling of agitation and gaiety. Hiding with the partner in crime, bottle covered under the lieutenant's coat as if he is some kind of thief, is something Koito won’t ever get used to. He drinks and mumbles gibberish then pulls his loved one closer for some sloppy smooches that never work out: someone keeps missing lips and laughing like a goofball after every failure.

Smoking opium, which happened exactly one time, was the complete opposite of previous experience. They ended up in semi-darkness in a distant room with artfully painted paraphernalia and one carved pipe that was passed back and forth for the whole night. An intoxicating sense of calm and emptiness hit Koito in the head as he was watching his loved one fusing with the thin lilac smoke: a situation they were in was too bizarre to be real but magical too so he had no right to complain. Memories of that night stayed with him for the whole life but Koito never had a desire to go for a smoke again.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

For the sake of justice, Koito has a protective side, but the carefree character often overshadows it. He meets dangerous situations in conditions where one large group of opponents confront another so everyone covers each other's back. When Koito has to fight one on one he can fully rely on the own strength and reactions but when there is someone to protect things get messy really fast.

Koito is ready to cover them with his body to save from a whistling bullet but this thought comes from a place of “I can’t come up with a plan what do I do what do I do” and not from rational thinking or self-devotion in the name of love. Nah, boy just no thoughts, head empty but HEART FULL.

Would want to be protected as well? He has no problem being viewed as one who needs help. Won’t want them to act recklessly though, exchanging their life for his isn’t fair a bit.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Youthful maximalism and all-encompassing love push Koito to new feats every day: he racks his head over which place to choose for a date, should he buy them expensive things or no because what if they look at him as at tasteless braggart, maybe, he should have not brought a bouquet today, maybe, he is too annoying… At the beginning of the relationship, he is excessively enthusiastic and scarred to mess everything at the same time. Often this mixture leads to an awkward situation but with some guidance, Koito calms down and begins to feel a partner on an intuitive level. Anniversaries will still be celebrated on a grand scale though. He has literally no chill when told to make that one day special. Lacks consistency when it comes to everyday tasks: either puts all of his effort in building a stool or does nothing the whole day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

The bloated ego doesn’t seem a big problem at first but it keeps popping up now and then in the conversation and overall behavior. Again, it is not even close to megalomaniac extend but can be pretty annoying when Koito keeps putting himself in every story and boasting with every minor achievement.

Not the most independent, kinda clingy guy that needs somebody that he can always rely on. We have already seen Tsukishima's fate and this is what awaits for the person who decides to tie the knot with him.

LOUD. SO LOUD. DEAFENING! If you think Koito would lower the voice down or, for the frick’s sake, stop screeching but no! Excited? Yell! Scarred? Yell! Surprised? Yell! I can see him screaming louder than his newborn baby shocking midwives in the maternity hospital. Pray to God that it is not inherited.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not to call him obsessed, but Koito takes good care of himself and tries to be attractive in the eyes of others. He may spend a little bit too much time staring in the mirror during the mourning routine, brushing hair locks just the exact way he wants them to be. Several creams are lying in the drawer of his nightstand and Koito replenishes its stock with enviable regularity. Of course, he looks sharp: when circumstances do not oblige Second Lieutenant to strict dress code, he pulls off well-tailored looks, both traditional Japanese and Westernized ones. Just imagine him dressed to kill, wearing an all-leather long car coat with skintight gloves. Koito is too powerful in his handsomeness.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Has zero knowledge of how to handle break-up and that pretty much describes what a hell ride it will be for Koito. Obviously, the violent reaction is accompanied by complete confusion, he is at a loss for words and can’t find the right ones even in the Satsuma dialect. Well, if he had a gut feeling that they are planning on leaving later or sooner, Koito would lash out at them in the worst way possible: every wrongdoing suddenly transforms into hidden signs confirming that he was not loved at all, never ever. He makes a loud scene with eyes brimming, screams whatever nonsense comes to mind to stop them from speaking further. No explanation can overpower his growing resentment. If break-up comes up out of a blue, Koito remains silent, listening to whatever they have to say. None of the words makes any sense to him and there is nothing he can tell or ask. Nothing makes sense. He sighs while rubbing his temples, eyes shut tight to separate from the world as much as possible, and turn down the white noise coming out of their mouth. Koito leaves without saying a word with a plan to avoid them in the next few weeks.

In the case of their death, Koito is in no hurry at breakneck speed to take revenge but that definitely doesn’t mean he is indifferent. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and even such a hothead as angered Koito is can wait for a better moment to strike.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Since Koito joined the army, celebrations turned from long-awaited days into in minor verbal congratulations aaaand that’s all. The atmosphere is just not the same. In the beginning, he tried to keep head up but general disinterest killed his vibes and left him bitter.

The only person who does not mind supporting the Second Lieutenant is Tsukishima: he gladly watches Koito happily screaming as he launches a colorful kite into the air, joins playing hanetsuki and sugoroku on Japanese New Year, once he even gave Koito pochibukuro as a joke. Otonoshin was merry and embarrassed at the same time since, you know, pochibukuro is given to kids, not adult men who shoot people for a living.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Mysterious silent people aren’t the company Koito can tolerate. He hadn’t had a good experience with Ogata back in the 7th Division and doesn’t see himself with anyone hiding behind a duplicitous smile.

Scolding Koito for his frivolity won’t do anything good, quite the contrary, it will force him into acting withdrawn in their presence. Attempts to change Koito are pointless since action generates opposition: the more he is told to be a serious man, the more infantile he will become.

By the way, it is important for Koito to see a class in his surrounding. He himself carries an elusive aesthetic so lack of taste and sense of beauty is a bummer. Good thing they can be acquired just like other skills.

Comparison. Do not compare Koito to anyone, ever. His father probably did it a lot back in the days when talking about Heinojou’s success so Otonoshin became allergic to any ��you are just like/you act like/you look like/wish you were like” comments.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

The most normal person in the 7th Division when it comes to sleeping. There’s literally nothing to describe: Koito falls asleep fast, he doesn’t have any problems with falling asleep or waking up, doesn’t use any medication, doesn’t have any evening rituals. Dreams are a rarity. Loves to sleep with someone by the side, so he can hug a person from behind with both arm and leg, and if the place next to him is cold and empty, Koito may hug a pillow or rolled blanket.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy imagine #golden kamuy headcanon #koito otonoshin #tosikowrites

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years ago

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Say My Name

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader

Genre: Porn With Plot

Word Count: 14,085 words haahahaha i’m so sorry for the length i lost track of how long it was

Summary: Reader is heartbroken over Jason, so she goes to Dick for comfort. The two start a FWB relationship to distract reader from pining over the love of her life.

A/N: Hey guys! This is a special and different announcement. I just made a ko-fi account. If you'd like to support me and my coffee drinking habits please feel free to donate as much or as little as you want, or not at all! It's just a tipping service :) To anyone who does donate however, thank you so much, you have no idea how much it means to my broke ass lmao hope you enjoy this one. It's pretty long (again, I’m sorry, I really have no idea how it got so long)

Masterlist

Ao3

“Woah, what's wrong? Why are you crying?” Dick worried as soon as he opened the door. “Come in, sweetheart.”

You hiccuped and step inside his dark room, standing awkwardly and trying to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Come here. Tell me what's wrong?” he pulled you into a warm hug. You buried your face in his chest, bunching your fists into his shirt.

You heard Dick sigh after getting no response from you.

“How can I help?” he offered.

You looked up at him, his sharp chiseled outline dimly illuminated by the moonlight coming in from his window. Even in the darkness you could make out how his eyebrows were knitted into a frown, his lips tight with caution.

You could feel his heat radiating, his heartbeat on your palms which were now flat against his chest. Through wet lashes, you tried to convey what you wanted with your eyes, only to have him look even more confused.

So you pulled him by the shirt and kissed him hard on the lips, forcing his to part, throwing your arms around his neck shamelessly.

“Mmmpf,” he let out a surprised cry. Yet, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer, responding to your kiss, until he finally realised what was happening.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he stopped you, “Not that I haven't thought about this since forever, but are you sure you're alright? Tell me what's wrong.”

“Please, Dick,” you sniffled, “Make me forget about him. Just for tonight.”

“Who?” he frowned.

You didn't answer.

“Who hurt you, sweetheart?” he asked gently, his hand went up to caress your cheek.

“He didn't do it on purpose,” you sighed sadly.

He didn't know that you've been in love with him for 6 years, he didn't know that he was the subject of all your daydreams and fantasies, he didn't know that having his hands all over another girl would hurt you.

“Just make me forget, please?” you begged the man whom you considered your best friend, your confidant, even an older brother.

“I don't want to take advantage of you when you're emotionally vulnerable,” he protested, despite his arms tightening around you.

“I want you tonight, Dick, please,” you tried, “I- I need you. Just for tonight.”

Dick looked at you intensely, his gaze piercing your eyes, making sure you're in the right mind. Your head was clear, it was just your heart that was crushed.

“Okay,” he tilted your head up, “I’ll make you forget.”

He bunched your hair in his fists and gently tugged your head back to expose your neck, and then started softly kissing your skin, nipping at your earlobe, licking at your pulse.

“I’ll make sure my name is the only one you're screaming tonight,” he whispered, hot breath leaving goosebumps on your skin.

His hands started to roam your body, squeezing your ass, going underneath your shirt to unclasp your bra and then tossing it away. His hands moved to cup your breasts, kneading them. He groaned into your mouth as you prodded his with your tongue, wanting to taste him.

The two of you were panting desperately, your body writhing against his, seeking friction to relieve the pressure you felt between your legs. You could feel his length grow harder and harder underneath the constraints of his boxers, rubbing against your lower tummy.

He pulled off your shirt, exposing your breasts, then slipped you out of your shorts smoothly. You tugged at his shirt as well, trying to rip it off him so you could finally feel his hard body against yours. He helped you take off his clothes, his boxers gone along with everything else.

Once you were both standing naked, grinding and twisting your bodies against each other, you pushed him back hard so he collapsed on his bed.

You immediately went to straddle him, his hands automatically flying to your waist, rubbing up and down your body. You started rubbing your pussy lips all over his long shaft.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, “You’re leaking all over my cock, baby.”

“That’s the idea. And you’d have to question your own sexual history if I wasn’t this wet,” you smirked at him, appreciating the way he looked beneath you. His eyes were hooded, his hair sticking to his forehead, his muscular body covered by a light sheen of sweat that reflected whatever light there was coming from outside.

“You usually this snarky when you’re going to fuck someone?” he grinned.

You raised your hips and guided his cock to your entrance before sinking down slowly, feeling him stretching you wide, feeling him rub against your walls, feeling him already touching your sweet spot.

The both of you moaned softly, careful not to make much noise.

“Only when I’m on top,” you breathed a reply. You started moving your hips, your mouth falling slack at the pleasure the friction brought you.

“Shit, you look so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, hands cupping your heaving breasts, “Your tits look so amazing. Wanted to see them for so long.”

“Really?” you managed to ask despite the ecstasy you were feeling.

“Yeah,” he hummed, “But I made you a promise.”

You slowed down, trying to remember what he said, tilting your head to one side in curiosity.

Suddenly, he grabbed you by the waist and then with strength, flipped you over so that he was now on top of you, without taking his cock out. You let out a small squeak at the surprise, which was muffled by a heated, wet kiss.

He rested his forehead against yours, and growled lowly, “I told you that my name will be the only one you’ll be screaming tonight.”

Then, he started pounding into you, whipping his hips with a force that kept on knocking the breath out of you again and again.

“Dick!” you moaned vulgarly, “Fuck, Dick, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, “Say my name.”

“Dick!” you repeated, his name like a mantra to keep you focused on reality. The fact that he was bent over on top of you, his broad shoulders engulfed you, his arms propping himself up was next to your head- you felt that you were truly consumed by Dick Grayson that night.

“You’re so wet and warm for me, sweetheart,” he continued, “You take my cock so well.”

You could only whine in response. You couldn’t believe that the Golden Boy Dick Grayson had such a filthy mouth.

“You like my cock, baby?” he asked, “Tell me you like my cock.”

“I like your cock, Dick!” you mewled, feeling your high coming onto you faster and faster.

“That’s a good girl,” he purred, “I can feel you clench around me. You wanna come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” you sobbed, “Yes, Dick, please let me come!”

“Alright, come for me baby,” he choked as he chased his own high, “Come all over my cock like a good girl.”

“Dick,” you let out a long whine before you shut your eyes at the intense burning you felt, your vision white, gasping for air as you felt your pussy flutter, clenching at his shaft.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” you heard Dick moan distantly as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

When you came down, Dick withdrew his cock and then spilled all over your body, strings of hot creamy liquid squirting on your breasts, catching on your nipple, pooling in your belly button.

“Shit,” he sighed against your lips, giving you another sweet kiss.

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement.

He got off you and tried to reach for his shirt on the floor. He wiped you down with it, giving you an apologetic smile that you found endearing.

“Goddamn, you’re amazing,” he pulled you into his arms, spooning you from behind.

“Was it true what you said earlier?” you asked curiously, “Did you really think of me before this?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, “I’m sure all of us did at one point. But I never stopped thinking, you know? You’re kinda my guilty pleasure.”

“I’m your spank bank, is that it?” you giggled.

“You don’t know how sexy you look when you walk around the house in those booty shorts and tank tops,” he accused you. “Shit. I don’t think I’d be able to get you out of my head after this.”

“I wish I was the same,” you let out a sad sigh.

You felt Dick still behind you.

“I’m not going to ask…” he trailed off.

You shifted and turned around to face him.

“But you want to,” you pointed it out.

You were close again, lips just inches away from each other.

“Of course I want to,” he started caressing your cheek, “I want to know who hurt you.”

You felt your chest tighten again at the reminder.

You remained silent, just looking into his eyes. But after a few moments, you felt a wave of sleepiness crash over you. You shot up straight, attempting to leave.

“I should go now,” you climbed off the bed.

“No, don’t go,” Dick all but whined at you, “I like to cuddle after sex.”

“I can’t stay here, Dick,” you explained, “If someone saw me leave in the morning looking like this, they’d know we slept together.”

“So?” he said silently.

“So,” you started, “I… Don’t want anyone to know. I mean, we’re not together. It was just a one time thing.”

You started putting your clothes back on. Dick stood up, towering above you.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he suggested, “If- if you need me. I’m at your disposal.”

You bit your lip with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am, sweetheart,” he pulled you in, “I care about you. If doing this- coming to me- if it helps you, then I’d be happy to do it.”

You looked up at him, feeling the guilt creeping up to you. You knew now that Dick probably felt something for you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

But you knew your heart still belonged to him.

And you knew that you’d just be using Dick.

“Thank you,” you whispered, tiptoeing to give him a peck on the lips, before leaving to your room.

***

There was this really annoying repetitive sound that woke you up from your dreamless sleep.

“You awake?” you heard Dick’s muffled voice behind your closed door. His incessant knocking must have roused you.

You groaned, blinking at the assault of the sunlight in your eyes. “I am now!”

You checked your phone. It was 15 minutes to 10 in the morning.

“Breakfast? Everyone’s already downstairs,” he announced.

“Yeah, yeah, give me ten minutes to get ready,” you told him. You saw the shadow underneath the door disappear. You stared at your ceiling, thinking whether it’d be awkward between you and Dick.

You were dreading breakfast already.

At the dining table, you saw your foster family already seated and eating the pancakes Alfred made. Bruce was reading the paper while sipping on his coffee. You sat down in between Tim and Bruce, directly opposite of Jason. Dick was next to him, and Damian next to Dick.

They looked normal, besides everyone being exceptionally good looking. Money does buy a lot of things, including beauty. No one would suspect that the five sitting down at the table, bickering with each other, were all vigilantes of various background.

You were taken in as Bruce’s ward 6 years ago, after your parents passed away in a car crash. Your father was Bruce’s best friend, and had named Bruce your godfather when you were born. You were still underaged when they died, and didn’t have any other family left. Your father left a will appointing Bruce your legal guardian if anything were to happen.

You’ve been an adult for a while now, but Bruce still wished to take care of you, even paying for your art degree. He looked at you as his own daughter, and you looked at him like a father. Being the odd one out, you never got into that vigilante life.

You knew of them from the very beginning, since you grew up with Dick. He kept no secrets from you, and Bruce trusted you like it was your own secret to keep.

“Good morning,” you yawned while reaching for the pancakes.

“Morning,” mumbled the rest.

Once you were digging happily into your breakfast, you noticed Jason frowning at you. He was wearing a white shirt crumpled from sleep. His hair was messy, his lower lip jutting out in a cute pout that made you want to suck on-

“Wha?” you asked with your mouth stuffed, used to the inappropriate thoughts you had about him.

“You left early last night,” he stated. You didn’t miss how Dick suddenly tuned into your conversation.

“Was sleepy and tired,” you shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“You could have at least told me you were leaving,” Jason reprimanded you. His almost permanent frown knitted even more tightly together than usual.

“Well, I saw that you were occupied,” you finally looked directly into his eyes, and then smiled, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

He grit his jaw.

“Where were you guys?” Tim interrupted.

“A bar,” you casually answered, “I met Jason there after meeting with the gallery owner.”

“For your exhibition?” Damian asked.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “They said they liked my art, but they’ll call me to confirm.”

“That’s great!” Tim applauded, “I hope you get some spots.”

“Thanks, me too,” you beamed.

“So the two of you met at a bar?” Dick interrogated.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.

“What’s it to you?” Jason suddenly said aggressively.

“If you two planned to meet, why did she leave early?” Dick continued.

You exchanged a fleeting moment’s eye contact with Jason before turning to Dick, “I already said I was tired, Dick.”

“And what was Jason so occupied with that you didn’t tell him you were leaving?” he questioned.

An awkward silence filled the table. Jason was now picking at the leftovers on his plate. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Bruce’s very small, barely noticeable smirk. He was obviously amused by your exchange.

“He was with a girl,” you decided to answer.

You saw the gears in Dick’s head click, the way he frowned, how his eyes came to the realisation.

You thought he looked a bit frustrated, and sad.

He then turned to Jason. “You left her alone for a girl? After already planning to meet up?”

“In his defense, we had an argument,” you explained. You had said a few harsh words to Jason that made him leave. But you wouldn’t have had to say those things if he wasn’t being an asshole in the first place.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tim interjected, “Jason was with a girl?”

“I agree with Drake’s surprise,” Damian added, “That is a peculiar behavior for Todd’s standards.”

You felt a squeeze in your heart.

“It’s none of your business who I was with,” Jason growled.

“Jason,” Dick snarled. You were taken aback that he would get angry over this, but you weren’t particularly shocked that Dick could get that way.

He was the eldest, after all. He had some sort of unspoken authority, and everyone silently respected him. He could boss all the younger boys around, though he was usually met with resistance from Jason.

“Why would you leave her alone at a bar?” he demanded. Jason was still playing with his leftovers.

“It’s fine, Dick,” you tried to calm him down, “I got back okay. And I really was tired.”

“No, he’s right,” Jason conceded, now looking at you with his blue eyes, anger gone. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I forgive you,” you hurriedly accepted, “There. Can we move on from this, please?”

“Yeah, like, did you go home with her?” Tim snickered.

You really didn’t want to know, but Jason’s lack of answer confirmed it.

“Holy shit, you did!” Tim exclaimed.

You catched Dick’s gaze.

Fuck, he was looking at you with pity.

“Nothing happened,” Jason huffed, “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“I agree, I do not wish to listen to Todd’s sexual habits,” Damian grimaced.

“Shut up, brat!” Jason shot at him.

“I was agreeing with you!” Damian argued back.

Bruce cleared his throat, stopping the aggressive verbal exchange before it could escalate, “All of you bring the dishes to the back so Alfred doesn’t have to.”

There was a chorus of mumbled agreement from the table. After breakfast, you decided to paint.

Your zone was in your room, near the window where the natural light could pour onto the canvas. You were seated on a stool in front of the easel. You put on your headphones, blocking out the outside world as you stared at the empty canvas.

Tchaikovsky always somehow made you paint with bright pretty colors, usually with smiling faces or fantastical scenery- but you found that happiness in art was boring, and you weren’t feeling particularly joyful that day, least of all the dainty embodiment of Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, especially after the steaming hot session with Dick the previous night.

So you opted for Debussy. Clair De Lune made you feel more solemn and sombre. You closed your eyes and thought back to the scene at the bar and focused on the guilt you felt when Jason clenched his jaw and glared at you before abruptly leaving you at the table and going to the bar, gritting “I need a drink.”

The shame, embarrassment, the lump that you felt obstructed your throat when you saw him wrap an arm around a girl’s waist as he leaned on to the bar, whispering to her.

How the sight made the blood rush to your ears, drowning out the sound of music and obnoxious drunken laughs with your heartbeat.

She had looked like you- sort of. She had the same color hair, though yours were shorter. She had the same body type- you were more toned while she was curvier. Your facial features were almost the same, except hers was more defined with her expert use of makeup. She was wearing stylish clothes that clung to her body tastefully and accentuated her assets, with perfectly manicured nails that was caressing the fabric of Jason’s leather jacket.

Your chest was tight, and tears were brimming your eyes when you left the bar.

You opened your eyes and chose your palette. An array of dark blues and purples, black, with many shades of gray, so you started painting.

You were lost in your own thoughts for a couple of hours, the sun outside was at its peak in the very rare hot Gotham afternoon.

You were going to make a long brush stroke when you felt something at the crook of your neck, making you jolt in surprise. You tore off your headphones.

“Did I scare you?” Dick’s warm breath fanned your skin. He was bent down, pressing light kisses on your neck, shoulders and back.

“What are you doing, Dick?” you sighed, exposing your neck to give him more access.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” he whispered.

“So are you at my disposal or is it the other way round now?” you smirked.

You felt him grin against your skin. He then straightened up and went to sit on the edge of your bed, facing you.

“So, Jason, huh?” he flopped down, bouncing on the mattress.

You put your brush and palette down to face him, rolling your eyes.

“I’m kind of… frustrated,” he told you.

“Why?” you asked, “You knew I liked someone.”

“The fact that it’s my brother- well,” he started, “It changes everything.”

You just stared at him, his piercing gaze unsettling you, unsure of what to say.

“So tell me what happened last night,” he broke the silence.

“You already have the gist of it,” you said hesitantly.

“I know, but I want to hear the whole story,” he insisted.

You chewed on your lips.

“Fine,” you conceded, “He called me and asked where I was. I said I was already leaving the gallery. He told me to meet him at this bar in Diamond District, since I was close by. So I said yes, and we reached the place at the same time. We met each other at the parking lot and then head inside, but as we were going in, I saw a friend come out.”

“Who?”

“Nick, I met him at an exhibition a couple of months before,” you explained, “So he greeted me, gave me a friendly hug and kiss-”

“A friendly kiss?” Dick interjected, smirking.

“He’s European,” you clarified, eyes narrowing at his insinuation, “It was just a peck on the cheek- friendly stuff. Anyway, that was that. We went in. Then Jason started to get all pissy. He was like ‘I didn’t know you were into snotty pricks like him’ - which was totally uncalled for! I told him that Nikolai was a nice guy and he shouldn’t judge people before getting to know them. But then he kept going on and on about my standards.”

“Standards?”

“Yeah, like,” you elaborated, “‘I didn’t think your standards were that low’.”

Dick let out a low whistle.

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “At that time we were already seated. And God, he wouldn’t shut up about my standards and my apparently bad taste in men, blahblahblah. So, I, uh, said something pretty harsh back.”

“Uh oh,” Dick widen his eyes, “I know how snarky you can be. What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Jason, you may think my standards are low, but it would never stoop so low that I’d go out with someone like you’,” you cringed at yourself.

“Yikes,” Dick chuckled, “You always had a sharp bite, huh?”

“I mean,” you tried to defend yourself, “He was asking for it.”

“He was,” Dick agreed, “But you know how he is. When you said ‘someone like you’, it must have triggered something along the lines of his usual ‘I’m not a good person, I’ve done bad things’ schtick.”

“I know,” you groaned, “I felt bad. The way he was glaring at me, holy shit, if only looks could kill.”

“So is that when he left?”

“Yeah, he said he needed a drink, so he went to the bar. Next thing I knew, he…” you took a deep breath, “He had a girl in his arms. A pretty girl. Flirting with her. He doesn’t usually do that, you know? Which was why it was relatively easy for me to keep it in all these years. But seeing him like that, well. It upset me.”

Dick digested your story. You waited for him to answer.

“Well, from what you told me,” he concluded, “It sounds like he was jealous.”

“Jealous?” you shrilled, “No way. He doesn’t like me. My guess was that he was being an overprotective little shit.”

“But people are usually overprotective over the people they like. Isn’t that a response to or a form of jealousy?” he suggested.

“Dick, you looked like you wanted to strangle him when you found out that he left me alone,” you reminded him, “Doesn’t mean you were jealous or in love with me.”

“Maybe,” Dick entertained, “But I still think he was jealous, so he acted out by flirting with another girl.”

“But why would he act out that way?” you argued. “He didn’t know that it would hurt me. He doesn’t know that I’ve been in love with him since forever.”

“You’re right, maybe he didn’t do it to hurt you,” he pondered, “Maybe he was just trying to distract himself, like how someone tried to do with me?”

“Oh, shut up, you liked it,” you grinned.

“I did,” he smirked, “A lot. Too much, in fact. I want to do it again. And again.”

His expression went darker, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Dick was hot, sexy, whatever you wanted to call it. You would be lying if you said that you never thought of Dick, your best friend, that way. Especially since the two of you practically grew up together, with your parents being Bruce’s best friend, and Dick being Bruce’s first.

You loved Dick, but ultimately, it was Jason who stole your heart.

“You’re just horny, Dick,” you laughed.

“And you’re not?” he asked back, “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy last night?”

“What happened last night?”

The both of you snapped your heads toward the door- which Dick had left open. Jason was standing there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Were you listening in?” you shrieked.

“No,” he frowned, “Was just passing by, going to my room. Heard you guys talking. What happened last night?”

“Nothing,” you answered a little too quickly, “Dick was asking if I enjoyed drinks last night, and I was just going to tell him I didn’t have any drinks last night.”

“I said I was sorry,” he pouted again.

Your expression softened. “I know. And I said it was fine.”

An awkward silence filled the room, as he just looked at you like he was figuring out what to say.

“So…” you slowly began, “Next time, could you, like, knock?”

He didn’t reply immediately, but just started to flicker his gaze between you and Dick. Then, with a scowl, he let out a mumbled “Whatever” and left.

You got up and closed the door, locking it behind you. You glared at Dick, your arms crossed.

“Whoops?” he grimaced.

“Forgetting to close the door is not a very Nightwing thing to do,” you scolded.

“Well, I’m not Nightwing right now,” he shrugged, giving you an annoyingly smug grin, “But I gotta say, I’m quite curious to see how he would react if he knew we slept together.”

“Don’t. You. Dare,” you growled.

“Relax, I’m not gonna say anything,” he raised his hands in surrender. “Mainly because you won’t sleep with me again if I did.”

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes.

“You’re such a horny bastard!” you laughed out loud and pounced at him to tickle his sides. He grabbed your arms before you could reach him, and then wrestled you down, pinning you against the bed with your hands over your head and his body weight ensuring you stay in place below him.

“Only for you, sweetheart,” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“That’s what a boyfriend would say,” you narrowed your eyes.

“But it is also what Dick Grayson would say to his super sexy best friend who rocked his night,” he countered, “I may not be your boyfriend, nor am I in love with you, but I still care, you know? I won’t hurt you. So as long as you’re still interested in our… arrangement, this cock-”

He paused to roll his hips against yours, eliciting a soft moan from you when you felt a flicker of heat between your legs.

“- is only yours.”

Your heart swelled at how thoughtful he was being. He wanted to make you feel as comfortable as possible with your new and unorthodox relationship. He didn’t owe you that kind of exclusivity, nor should he be obligated to offer it to you, yet there he was, doing the most Dick Grayson thing ever.

“Thank you, Dick,” you breathed.

“What are best friends for, right?” he winked.

“Oh, just get off me, you idiot,” you held back a smile, “It’s in the middle of the day.”

He climbed off you and collapsed onto his back next to you.

“Oh, so we’re limiting our steamy sessions to night time? I guess I can work with that,” he teased.

You shook your head, ignoring his jest.

“Do you think he heard us?” you worried.

“He didn’t,” Dick simply stated.

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” he scoffed, “Sweetheart, I’m the second best detective in this house!”

“Not Tim?” you prodded.

He gasped exaggeratedly. “I am so offended.”

“I feel like he can read my mind sometimes, you know?”

“I’m leaving,” he got up and dashed to the door, “I will not take any more of this insult!”

He slammed the door shut. In the distance, you heard him shout, “I will not!”

“Drama queen,” you muttered under your breath and went back to your easel.

***

To say that Dick was clingy would be an understatement.

You didn’t sleep with him again after the first time as his nights were busy with patrol and got back home too late each time.

But during the days, though he acted relatively the same way as he did before, he added more flirty winks, and subtle touches. It got to your nerves at one point because he would shamelessly do it even when everyone else was around.

Of course, he wasn’t being blatantly obvious, but being in a home full of well-trained vigilantes- it made you paranoid.

It was a Saturday evening, and you were sketching out a scene in your book when you heard a knock on your door.

“It’s open,” you announced before slamming your sketchbook shut, away from prying eyes.

“Hey,” you saw Jason peek in, “You busy?”

“No,” you replied, “What’s up?”

“Was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner before I go off for patrol tonight?” he asked, shifting his feet. “My treat.”

“Sure!” your face lit up, “Anything for free food.”

You heard him chuckle, your heart melting at the sound. Your relationship with him became a bit strained because of what happened the previous weekend.

He took you on his bike that night, and even though you’ve been the passenger on his motorcycle countless of times, the close contact still made your heart flutter.

You could feel the hardness of his body as you clutched onto his leather jacket for support. You could smell him- a musky cologne and a very faint smokey scent. You couldn’t see much of the road in front of you because his broad shoulders was blocking the view.

He took you on his bike to a small italian restaurant in Little Italy It was nothing fancy, but you preferred an authentic restaurant with a homemade feel, small tables, and warm lights. You sat at a small table for two, and ordered.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to eat that much right before patrol?” you raised an eyebrow.

He had taken off his jacket, and was wearing a simple black t-shirt with jeans. His hair was messy from the helmet, and his cheeks, nose and ears were slightly red from the cold ride there.

“I gotta have the energy to kick some ass, princess,” he grinned.

“You ordered a whole lasagna and a plate of pasta,” you giggled, “And I’m sure you’re gonna wanna get dessert as well.”

“Hey, I like my food, alright?” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“Well, I can’t really say much to that,” you admitted, “Is this a way to make up to me or something? ‘Coz getting to my heart through my stomach is clever. You know I’m as weak as you are when it comes to food.”

“And I kept that in mind,” he winked, making your stomach flip. His winks always got to you.

“You’re totally, wholeheartedly forgiven then,” you reassured.

“Good,” he nodded, “But, uh, yeah, like I said. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved in effort to keep the awkwardness away.

“But actually, I wanted to ask you something as well,” he started.

“Ask away,” you shrugged.

He paused, allowing the waitress to set your drinks down. You started slowly sipping on your coke.

“Are you and Dick together?”

You almost sprayed your drink everywhere.

“W-what?” you sputtered in a fit of hacking coughs.

“I dunno, he’s been acting weird around you lately,” he played with his straw, avoiding eye contact.

“No way in hell!” you denied. You took a deep breath to calm down before you explained. “Look, I can see why you think so. Lately, he’s been annoying, you know? Flirts more than usual. But that’s just how Dick is. He flirts without even realising it. He’s probably just bored whenever he does it.”

“So you’re not together?” he reconfirmed.

“No, Jay,” you insisted, “We’re best friends. That’s it.”

“I see,” he let out a sigh, “Good.”

“You seemed relieved,” you teased, “You jealous, Jay?”

You played with the idea in your head, but it was mostly wishful thinking.

“No,” he replied quickly, “I’m relieved because it’s weird, you know? The two of you. You guys were always there when I was growing up. It’d just be weird, alright? Like if my sister was dating my best friend or something.”

He leaned back onto his chair and looked away.

“So am I your best friend or your sister?” you jibed.

“Best friend,” he looked at you. And with a grin, he added, “Dick’s my sister.”

You laughed. On the bright side, at least he didn’t see you as a sister.

Your food arrived. You were smirking at the large portion Jason was devouring immediately.

“I miss talking to you, Jay,” you smiled, “I like this.”

“Me too, princess,” his eyes softened.

Dick called everyone sweetheart, or darling. But Jason? Jason only called you ‘Princess’. It was his thing that started so long ago, when he was still Robin.

Though you were closer to Dick because he was there first, you were the same age as Jason. Thus, you were in the same grade, watched the same shows, listened to the same music- though the latter was purely coincidental and did not have anything to do with your age. It was just easier for you to relate to him.

You were a rebellious teen back then. You snuck out of your parents’ house frequently to hang out with your friends in shady places. One night, at 15 years old, you were walking back to your house around two in the morning.

You only realised too late that you were being followed by 3 men when one of them grabbed you and pulled you into an alleyway.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out this late, you know?” one of them pushed you against the wall.

You had never wished so hard that you were like Dick, capable of defending yourself.

“I have money,” you had started to beg, “Please, I’ll give you anything. Just don’t hurt me.”

“We want more than just money, baby,” another guy said.

“Please, don’t,” you pleaded, tears spilling down from your eyes. You were shaking in fear, frozen to your spot, not knowing what to do.

“The more you beg, the more you turn me on,” one of them replied, coming closer to you. He gripped your hair painfully to keep your head in place as he leaned in to force a kiss on you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the worst that was yet to come. Suddenly, the pain disappeared. You opened your eyes and saw Robin smashing the head of the guy who was nearest to you against the wall.

He then proceeded to almost effortlessly knock out the other two.

He looked at you through his white lens.

“Jason?” you whispered.

“Are you okay?” he rushed to you.

You flung yourself into his arms, tears of relief now brimming your eyes instead of fear.

“I was so scared,” you sobbed into his armor covered chest.

“I know. It’s okay, I’m right here,” he patted your head, other arm wrapped around your waist and squeezing you tightly. “What are you doing out so late?”

“Being stupid,” you grimaced, before panicking. “Please don’t tell Dick! He’d kill me! Please, Jason, please.”

You stared at him now with wide eyes, seeing his expression softening and a small smile at his lips.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. This will be our little secret,” he assured you, “Just promise me you won’t go out this late again. At least, not alone. It’s dangerous. You know that.”

“I promise,” you sniffled, “Thank you, Jason. For saving me. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

“So that makes you my princess, right?” he grinned.

You giggled then, but your heart suddenly started beating faster, and not because of the fear or adrenaline. You hid your blushing face into his chest so he couldn’t see how flustered he made you.

From then on, he called you ‘Princess’. It was a term of endearment brought by a small little secret only the two of you shared.

You didn’t realise that you were already in love with him. Not until he died 6 months later, and you were left with a hole in your chest. To make things worse, your parents also died around the same time.

“You okay?” your current Jason broke you out of your daze and back to the present.

“Yeah,” you smiled at the memory, “Remember that time you saved me from those assholes? In that alley?”

“You were stupid to go out that late alone,” he grumbled.

“Yes, and I swear, since then I have been on my best behavior,” you rolled your eyes, “You never told Dick, right?”

“Of course not,” he scowled, “I promised you didn’t I?”

Fuck, he looked so cute pouting and grumbling the way he did- because he may looked upset, but he was still finishing up his lasagna.

“Yeah, you did,” you hummed, “Anyway, shouldn’t we be leaving soon? You have patrol.”

“I ain’t leavin’ without my damned dessert!”

***

That night, you decided to stay up late painting a piece. Your aim was to have your own solo exhibition by the end of the year, so you needed to work hard.

It was around four in the morning when you heard a soft knock on your door.

“It’s me,” you heard Dick’s muffled voice.

You set your brush down and unlocked the door for him.

He was still in his Nightwing uniform, sweaty and slightly dirty. He stepped in, and you made it a point to lock the door behind him.

“All of you just got back?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he stood in front of you, “Was going back to my room, but then I saw your lights were still on. Speaking of-”

He reached to the switch and turned off the lights.

“Dick- what-”

“At least they’d think you were asleep and wouldn’t come knocking,” he explained. The sudden shift to darkness blinded you. You slowly walked to your bedside table and switched on a night light. Now it was bright enough for you to make out Dick in the darkness, yet dark enough for people to think you were sleeping.

“Everyone got back okay? Anything interesting happen?” you sat on your bed, motioning Dick to join you.

“Nah,” he said, “Slow night. Just a couple of scrapes and bruises. Though, Jason got it pretty bad tonight.”

“What?” you panicked, “Is he okay? What happened?”

“Relax, nothing serious,” he chuckled, “The love of your life just started puking into a dumpster after grappling.”

And almost like they rehearsed it, you heard a couple of bickering voices outside your room.

“-can't believe you got puke in your helmet,” you heard Tim say.

“Shut the fuck up about it already,” Jason growled. “And quiet down, she’s gonna wake up.”

“She’d love to hear about this, though,” Tim whispered.

“Disgusting, Todd,” Damian commented, “Disgraceful to the Robin legacy. Utterly idiotic-”

“I said shut the fuck up!” he yelled. You heard a loud door slam.

“You're the one who said she'd wake up,” Tim chortled.

“... honestly… to think… low intelligence…”

“... can't wait… tell her…”

The voices faded away, and ended with the sound of doors being closed shut.

You looked at Dick and burst into giggles.

“I told him that eating so much wasn't a good idea,” you gasped in between laughter. “God, he's such an idiot.”

“How much did he eat?”

“A huge slice of lasagna, a plate of carbonara, and two scoops of ice cream,” you listed down, “All super creamy, super heavy.”

“He is an idiot,” Dick laughed, “Did you have a good time?”

“I did,” you smiled, “Oh, he asked if we were together.”

“You and me?”

“Yes, you and me,” you scolded “And it's all your fault, too. You were being way too obvious with the whole… You thing.”

“Me thing?” he smirked.

“Yeah, you thing,” you huffed, “I told him there was nothing going on between us.”

“Which is technically the truth,” he added.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Just ease up on the whole flirty stuff, will you?”

“I can’t help it,” he groaned, collapsing onto his back.

His blue and black uniform stuck to him like second skin, accentuating the contours of his muscles that was casting beautiful shadows onto his body due to the dim light. Your eyes trailed down from his face to his abs to his crotch, your tongue subconsciously darting out to wet your lips.

“Like what you see?” he snickered.

“Me and every other girl in Gotham,” you rolled your eyes.

In a flash, he had shot straight up and pounced on top of you, pinning you down on the bed with his body.

“You’ve fantasized about Nightwing?” he whispered against your lips.

“Of course I have,” you pouted, “I mean, it’s Nightwing. All girls do.”

“But you,” he set his arm on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles that you could feel through your thin tank top, “Must have fantasized more about Red Hood, right?”

“Jason was dead for two years,” you reminded him, “At that time, though I was still in love with him, Nightwing was the main attraction.”

“But what about now?” he started to kiss your neck.

“I guess now it’s mostly Red Hood,” you admitted.

He drew back to look at you in the eye, a cheeky grin playing onto his face, “I could steal his helmet if you like. Wash the puke out first, of course. A little roleplay to spice things up?”

“That’s so fucked up, Dick!” you laughed, “I can’t fuck you while pretending it’s your brother.”

“Hmm, why not?” he hummed and started nibbling at your ear lobe. “I could pretend to be him. What does he always call you, again?”

“Princess?”

“Ah, yes. You wanna play with me, princess?” he grazed your ear.

You gasped. Dick had impersonated Jason’s voice so well. He nailed Jason’s husky and low sound, and flawlessly imitated his subtle yet still noticeable Bowery accent down to the last syllable.

It made your pussy clench.

“That- that was-” you stuttered, that simple action made you a blushing sputtering mess.

“On point?” he grinned.

“That would be an understatement,” you praised, “Shit, I didn’t know you could do that so well.”

“Alfred would be pleased,” he chuckled lowly, “Though, I’m sure he’d disapprove of the skill being used in this context.”

“It’s fucked up, Dick,” you repeated, though you wanted it so badly.

“You want me to fuck you, princess?” he purred, “You want my cock?”

He slipped his hand between your legs to cup your covered sex.

“Dick,” you whined, “Stop it. It’s turning me on more than you think. I feel like he’s actually saying those things to me.”

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” he teased, “I can make you feel so good, baby.”

You groaned when his hands slipped underneath your shorts, immediately running a finger up and down your wet folds, the odd yet pleasurable sensation of his textured gloved hands making you squirm. You spread your legs wider to give him more access.

“So wet and ready for me,” he drawled, “Close your eyes, sweetheart. Close your eyes and imagine him.”

“I- I shouldn’t,” you breathed, “I can’t do that to you.”

“I don’t mind,” he insisted, “I just want to get you off. I like seeing you like this. I like turning you on.”

He slipped a finger inside your opening and immediately curled it upwards, hitting your sweet spot, eliciting a desperate moan from you.

“Come on, princess. Play with me.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he inserted a second finger easily, pumping in and out of you at a pace that made your breath hitch.

“Ja- Dick,” you caught yourself mid-moan.

“It’s okay to indulge, sweetheart,” you felt him whisper in your ear, his warm breath tickling you, “Go on. I want to hear you say my name.”

“Jason,” you dared a small whine, giving in to your fantasies.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his fingers now making squelching sounds.

You were really indulging yourself, that's for sure. You imagined that it was Jason who was panting in your ear, that it was Jason's thick fingers inside you and making you feel good, that it was Jason’s weight against your body, that it was Jason's erection you were gently massaging through the sturdy yet thin material of Nightwing’s suit- however unrealistic it was.

“Mmm, Jason,” you sighed louder, the heat you felt even more intense than you usually did.

“So fucking sexy, princess. Your pussy feels so good around my fingers.”

Hell, even you felt your walls tighten around him when he said that.

“So hot,” he groaned, “I want to see you come. You want me to make you come?”

“Yes, Jason, please,” you whined, your head thrashing about. Then, he curled his fingers upwards and started massaging your deep spot, making a new wave of sensation appear. He was relentless in his pace, almost forcing the orgasm from you.

You were a moaning mess, unsure of what was real and what wasn’t.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he purred, “Come for me right now, princess.”

The building heat you usually felt was absent that night. Instead, it was like an explosion. Barrages of white, hot, pleasure filled your entire being, that you weren’t aware how loud you were screaming.

“Fuck, fuck, JASON!”

You felt a hand clamp down on your mouth as you slowly came back to reality. You opened your eyes to see Dick’s wide stare. He was still slowly pumping in and out of you, grounding you after your intense orgasm.

You could hear your own breathing- loud and ragged.

“Shit,” Dick chuckled, “Wow, do I need to see you come like that again.”

He slid out his fingers from you carefully.

“Kiss me, Dick,” you sighed.

He reached for to cup your face, his lips mere inches away from yours until-

You heard frantic knocking on the door.

“Hey, you okay in there?” you heard Jason’s muffled yells.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath looking at Dick with panic, “Shit, shit, shit. Hide in my bathroom, quick!”

Dick dashed to your bathroom and you hurriedly put on a robe.

“Princess, you okay?” he continued, “I heard you shouting.”

“Just a second!” you yelled back, tripping over your chair in the process of getting to the door.

“Hey,” you opened, meeting a clean Jason with wet hair and a white t-shirt along with a worried look on his face.

“You okay?” he asked again, “I heard you calling for me. I thought you were in trouble.”

“I had a bad dream,” you lied, “I must have shouted your name. False alarm. Sorry.”

You weren’t really a good liar- especially since everyone else were good lie detectors. But you tried and sometimes you could get away with it.

Now you were praying to whatever deity was up there that it was one of those times.

“Oh,” Jason frowned, “Are you okay? You wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’m fine,” you smiled, “I’ll try to go back to bed after this.”

“Hey,” he reached out to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m here, okay? If you want me to hang around until you sleep, just say the word.”

You felt yourself start to blush furiously at his action, your stomach doing flips again.

“I-it’s okay,” you sputtered. “I’ll be fine. Really. But thank you, Jason.”

He pursed his lips, just staring at you for a moment. And then-

“Come here,” he mumbled and then pulled you into his arms, engulfing you with his warmth.

“I used to have nightmares too,” he whispered into your ear, “And during the rare times my mom was actually sober, she’d just hug me like this, and everything felt alright again.”

You were taken aback by his words. Jason hardly ever talked about his parents. Your guilt started eating at you when you realised that he only shared this with you because he thought you were scared, yet you couldn’t help but to lean into him, welcoming his contact.

You breathed in his scent- his shampoo and shower gel smelled like fresh tropical fruit. You could also smell a faint lingering minty scent of his toothpaste.

You just wanted to melt into him.

But then, he stepped away from you to end the hug.

“Just text me if you need anything, alright?” he looked at you intensely.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Goodnight, princess,” he winked and turned around to go back to his room.

“Goodnight, Jay,” you sighed after him, wishing nothing more but to pull him back to you.

You watched him close the door to his room- which was down the hall to yours- before you closed your door and leaned against it with your eyes closed, trying to burn the memory into your brain.

“That was so cute,” a voice said.

You jumped ever so slightly and saw Dick smirking at you in front of your bathroom door. You had completely forgotten that he was still there.

“Shut up,” you scowled, walking towards him, “That was so fucking embarrassing.”

“Yet hot as fuck,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him by the hips. “Now I’m definitely going to steal his helmet.”

“Don’t even,” you groaned, resting your arms on his shoulders, “So embarrassing.”

“It was hot, and cute,” he insisted, grinning. “I should head back.”

“But, uh, you haven’t, I mean I haven’t helped you, uh, you know,” you awkwardly implied.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, “That scare kinda ruined my boner. Plus, like I said, I enjoy just watching you.”

“You sure?” you pouted, “I don’t mind helping you out.”

“I’m sure,” he kissed you on the nose, “It’s getting late, too. You should sleep.”

“Okay, then,” you stepped away from him and watched him head towards the door. “Goodnight, Dick.”

“Goodnight, princess,” he grinned and ran silently to his room before you could even react to his teasing.

***

It had already been a month since you and Dick started sleeping together. It was fun, and you enjoyed it a lot, but you felt like the more you tried to distract yourself with Dick, the more you couldn’t get Jason out of your mind.

And every little thing that Jason did affected you more than it should. From the way he drank his bottled water, to the way his left eye twitched and his jaw clench whenever Damian said something insulting. Everything he did made you want him.

So you used Dick to distract yourself and the cycle continued.

Dick was also using you, because Dick was a horny bastard and he liked sleeping with you. A lot.

Every chance he got.

But then one day when Dick and you were lounging by the pool, Jason approached you.

“Hey, uh, you free tonight?” he asked you.

His eye contact was in a frenzy- avoiding yours- and he was ruffling the hair at the back of his head. He looked almost nervous.

“Yeah, I am,” you replied, “Why?”

“Thought that we could spend some time together,” he shrugged, “Watch some thrillers or something. In your room? Or mine. I don’t care. Whichever you prefer.”

“Sure!” you agreed almost too happily.

“Yeah?” he grinned, “Okay, then. I gotta meet Roy now but I’ll be back by 8? I’ll get us some pizza.”

“Pepperoni, extra cheese, please,” you ordered.

“As if I don’t know,” he rolled his eyes and headed out.

You tried to contain your excitement in front of Dick, unsuccessfully.

“Well that just made your whole week, huh?” he chuckled, getting up from his pool chair to sit on the edge of yours.

“Shut up,” you jabbed him in the ribs.

“I guess this is it, then,” he suddenly sighed.

You frowned at his shifted mood.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, I’m guessing after this, our little arrangement would end.”

“Why?”

Dick looked at you with a sad smile, “Just a feeling.”

“You’re being weird,” you pointed out, “But you know, even if we decide to end this, we’re still best friends, right? No hard feelings?”

“Of course not,” he stated, “We’ll always be best friends. No matter what.”

“Good,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

Dick leaned closer to you, his hand cupping your face.

“I want one last kiss,” he pleaded with his puppy dog eyes.

“It wouldn’t be our last, Dick,” you rolled your eyes, still allowing him to come closer to you.

“I hope not,” he barely whispered, and then pressed his soft,.familiar lips against yours for a deep, slow kiss. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it desperate. Neither of you were panting in lust and a need to take off each other’s clothes.

It simply was a sensual kiss between two friends.

You were the first to break it off.

“We’re out in the open,” you reminded him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, getting up and going back to his pool chair, “You don’t have to worry about that any more.”

You were going to say something about how stupid he was being, but decided against it. All you needed to do was let him see for himself that nothing was going to happen.

That evening, you were just hanging out in the living room with everyone while waiting for Jason to come back. Tim was telling you about how Jason went from trying to show off his new move- somersaulting down from a tall building to immediately grappling to a lower rise building and landing like a superhero- to retching out half his stomach contents into his helmet, hurriedly run to a dumpster in an alley in which he shoved a lone man aside just to hurl the rest of his food.

The man turned out to be a drug dealer. Jason’s violent push had made him drop 2 kilogrammes of cocaine from his jacket. Jason had called it a win.

“What’s so funny?”

All of you snapped your heads in the direction of the voice. Jason who had just arrived, had his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The coincidence made all of you start laughing again, right after trying hard to stop.

Once you regained your composure, you got up, while wiping your tears.

“Come on, Carbonaraticus Regurgitus,” you teased, taking the hot pizza boxes from him and leading the way to your room.

“I fucking told you guys not to tell her!” you heard him yell at the back.

You giggled to yourself and made your way to the room, leaving the door open for Jason who was probably attacking Tim before coming to you as planned.

You had already set up your laptop on the bed to a thriller on Netflix when Jason finally came in, red faced and pouting.

“He-”

“It wasn’t that bad, and I did not get puke in my helmet,” he stated before you could even get a word in.

You stifled a laugh. “Okay. I was going to say ‘Hey, is Seven okay?’. But if you insist on talking about that, I don’t mind.”

“Seven’s fine,” he grumbled before comically adding, “What’s in the booox?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he defended, taking off his jacket and hopping onto your bed to sit next to you, “Love me some Brad Pitt.”

The two of you ate your pizzas while watching the movie. The both of you were leaning back against a pile of pillows, legs stretched out. You balanced the laptop on your right thigh and Jason’s left, meaning that your right side was in close contact with his left.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling every time he accidentally said a line from the movie and apologizing after. Somewhere along the movie, he stretched out his left arm behind your head. Your mind was racing, and you couldn’t concentrate much on the movie.

Next thing you knew, the movie ended, and he suggested The Usual Suspects. Jason loved his thrillers, and loved rewatching the classics.

“Oh, but uh, before that,” he stopped you from clicking play. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. What about?”

“Your art, actually,” he said.

“What about my art?”

“The ones in those black books, are those for the galleries?” he asked.

“Well, no. I mean, I have one sketchbook where I draw serious stuff. Portraits, illustrations, sceneries. That’s the one I submit to my professors,” you explained.

“Oh, but you have more than one?”

“Yeah, I always have three in total. One’s for school, one’s for practice, and one… is like my diary.”

“Your diary?” he looked at you in curiosity.

You were close, but not too close. It was only a comfortable and friendly distance, but you couldn’t stop yourself from occasionally looking at his lips before snapping your eyes back to his.

“Yeah. My art is usually a result of my emotions. The last book I have is filled with drawings when I’m feeling sad or happy, or whatever. But more personal, you know? Stuff I don’t share with the world,” you finished.

“I see,” he frowned, deep in thought, “You don’t usually show it the world, huh?”

“Nope. Completely private.”

“Then you shouldn’t be so careless about leaving it open on your desk,” he stated as a matter of factly.

“What?”

“I assume the book with the drawing of me at the bar with the girl is the diary one, right?” he brought up casually.

Your mind was blank. “What?” you repeated.

“I didn’t go through your stuff, or anything. I was just looking for you yesterday in your room, and I saw the book on your desk. It was already opened to that page…”

Shit.

Fuck.

You were so careless.

You had drawn the scene a couple of weeks ago, because you wanted to channel the sadness, anger, and jealousy into something.

“... were you jealous?”

“What?” you said for the third time. You had missed a portion of what he was saying.

“I mean, if you drew something like that,” he continued, “Is that why you left? Because I hurt you?”

You faced the laptop, tears burning your eyes at the thought of almost a decade of friendship being tossed into the drain because of your carelessness.

He was silent for a moment. And then-

“You made me jealous first, though,” he mumbled so softly, you barely caught it.

“What are you talking about?” you whispered.

“With that fucking Nikolai,” he huffed. You swore you could hear the pout.

“Nick- what?” you decided to look at him.

He was staring at the paused computer screen, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn together, and of course- pouting.

“Yeah, him and his accent, and his stupid kiss, and his stupid hair,” he grumbled.

“Hair?” you smiled.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Or what you thought was happening.

“All wavy and golden,” he continued, “It would have made anyone jealous. That’s why I said all those hurtful things to you. It doesn’t justify it, but it just triggered me, okay?”

“So does that mean,” you smiled wider, “That you have feelings for me?”

“Duh,” he rolled his eyes, still avoiding contact with yours.

“Really? You’re not just saying that out of pity?”

He then looked at you incredulously. “Pity? No! Fuck you, I’ve been in love with you since forever.”

“How long?” you questioned, your heart thumping at his confession.

“I don’t know,” he looked away again, “Since I got back? Before I died? I don’t know okay? I’ve just always been drawn to you or some shit.”

You didn’t know what to say.

You were just so unbelievably ecstatic, that you were speechless.

“What about you?” he asked, “You like me too, right? Coz if you don’t, it means I’ve made a complete fool outta myself, and I’ll just go and crawl back into my coffin.”

“I’ve been in love with you since you died,” you admitted, “Actually, since you saved me from those guys in the alley. But I just never knew that I truly loved you until you were gone.”

He looked at you now, all signs of nervousness finally gone. He uncrossed his arms and put his hand on yours.

“Really?” he croaked, emotion flooding into his hopeful voice of relief, “That long?”

“Yes, that long!” you complained.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like I said, I only realised when you died.”

“But what about after? It’s been years since I came back,” he pointed out.

“I was afraid, okay?” you sighed exasperatedly, “I was afraid it would ruin whatever we have. I still am. Even if you like me back, what if it doesn’t work out? Then we’ll just end up awkward, and we lose this real great thing we already have.”

“Princess,” he said sternly, tilting your chin upwards to pierce your eyes with his gaze, “I would rather take the fucking crowbar again than lose you.”

You were taken aback by his words. You never thought that Jason was the romantic type who was a smooth talker, which made you believe how genuine he was.

You weren’t too close before, but somehow the two of you had naturally inched closer that his lips were now a hair’s breadth away from yours. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and feel this fucking pull that tugged at your chest.

You were ready.

Fuck, you were ready for his kiss that you’ve daydreamed and fantasized about for years.

“I didn’t say anything because I stupidly thought you were Dick’s,” he breathed.

The mention of Dick made you suck in a breath, and your eyes fluttered away in guilt.

“What?” he tilted his head.

“Nothing,” you shook yours, attempting to gain back the intimate moment, “I’ll tell you some other time. Can you kiss me now? I’ve been waiting for so long and I don’t think I can-”

“Is it about Dick?” he pulled back and frowned.

“Well, yes,” you admitted, “But I don’t want to talk about that now. I’ll tell you later.”

“If it’s about Dick I want to know,” he insisted, “Was I right? Were you his?”

“I’m nobody’s Jason, I’m not a thing,” you rolled your eyes.

“You know what I mean,” he growled.

You sighed.

“Fine,” you conceded, “We… slept together.”

Jason’s jaw clenched.

“We weren’t together,” you hurriedly clarified, “We were just having sex. For fun, or as a distraction. We’re still just best friends.”

“Best friends don’t sleep together,” he grit.

“Everyone’s relationship is different,” you argued, “But like I said, it was just casual sex. Nothing more.”

“Okay, okay,” he gave in, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This was all in the past, right?”

“Yes, technically,” you cringed.

“Past as in, years ago?” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“I wouldn’t say years...”

“When was the last time?” he demanded after noticing your expression.

“Does it matter, Jason? I mean, now that I know how you feel, I’m obviously not going to-”

“When. Was. The. Last. Time?” he hissed.

You were silent for a whole ten seconds before squeaking out a small, “Last night?”

You could see in his eyes that he snapped. The pure anger was unmistakable. Yet, he didn’t act out like you thought he would. No yelling, no wall punching.

Instead, he let out a calm but deadly “I’m going to murder him” and then got up from your bed.

“Jason, come on,” you tried to stop him, “Don’t tell me you expected me to wait for you when I didn’t even know how you felt. I didn’t just sleep with Dick in the past. I’ve had ex boyfriends as well!”

“It’s not about that!” he shouted before taking a deep breath to calm himself down, “It’s not about that. It’s about Dick. When it’s Dick, it becomes personal.”

“But why?” you demanded, “You were okay if it happened years ago. Why is the timing so important?”

He looked at you and blinked.

Then, he left the room with a speed you only saw when he was fighting.

“Jason!” you went after him. You saw him knocking furiously on Dick’s door opposite of his own.

“Grayson!” he shouted, “Open the fucking door you two faced scumbag!”

“Jason, calm down!” you hushed.

You heard the door unlock and open.

But before you could even see Dick’s face, Jason had forced his way in and punched him straight in the nose, causing him to stumble backwards.

“What the fuck?!” Dick exclaimed, holding his nose with one hand. You could see drops of blood trickle down his chin and stained his t-shirt. “You broke my nose!”

Dick made a move to retaliate, but Jason roared out first. “You knew! You fucking knew, and you went behind my back!”

You were going to come between Jason and Dick, but Jason’s words made you stop in your tracks.

“Wh- what the fuck are you talking about?” Dick glared daggers at Jason, yet didn’t move to fight back.

“You knew how I felt about her,” Jason’s voice broke, “And you knew how she felt about me. I understand if you wanted us to figure it out ourselves- but to fucking sleep with her?!”

“Jason,” Dick began, his eyes wide in realisation.

“You’re a fucking joke, Dick,” Jason sneered, “You go around acting like a fucking mother hen, spewing bullshit about how we’re family, but what kind of a brother does this?”

“I’m sorry,” Dick apologized, his eyes softening.

“Forget it,” Jason turned around, “You’re not my brother.”

He left.

You stood in silence, digesting what had happened. You looked at Dick, who was wiping the blood off his face with his shirt.

“You want to punch me, too?” he gave you a humorless chuckle.

“Is it true?” you asked softly.

“He didn’t tell me,” Dick explained, “But I knew.”

“How?”

“Sweetheart, I read people. It’s part of my job,” he stated.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you questioned, “Why did you agree to sleep with me?”

“I was selfish,” he simply said, “When you came to me that night, well. I just wanted you to myself, even if it was temporary.”

You looked at him with sadness and disappointment.

“I’m guessing you hate me now,” Dick assumed, “It’s understandable. This was going to happen sooner or later.”

“I could never hate you, Dick,” you smiled sadly, “You’re my best friend. Nothing will change that.”

“But?”

“But I’m just- I don’t know,” you struggled to find the words, “I mean I was the one who begged you for it, so I can’t fully blame you either. Yet, I’m still really angry at you for doing that to him. He’s right. That’s not what a brother would do.”

“I know,” Dick sighed, “I’m a shit brother.”

“You’re a dick, Dick,” you pointed out, “I’m going to look for Jason.”

“There’s no point,” he said, “He probably took off.”

“What?”

“That’s what he does when he’s angry,” Dick explained, “He goes on patrol and beats people up.”

“And Bruce is okay with that?”

“He stops before going too far,” Dick added.

“Fine then,” you groaned, “I’ll wait up for him downstairs. Let him know if you see him.”

“Seriously?” he laughed. “I’m the last person he wants to hear from now.”

“I’ll leave him a text,” you stated.

You went down to the living room and cuddled up on the sofa, flicking through the channels on the large flat screen TV before settling for a nature documentary.

You zoned out to the sounds of the deep ocean and David Attenborough’s voice in the background. Before you knew it, you fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

Something felt off.

You weren’t on the sofa anymore. You were against something hard and warm- and moving. You struggled to open your eyes, only to see the underside of Jason’s face.

“I can see your nose hair,” you giggled softly, wrapping your arms around his neck while he carried you bridal style up the stairs.

“I don’t have any nose hair,” he pouted.

“Everyone has nose hair, Jay,” you argued playfully.

“Not me. You can call me Hairless Nose Jason,” he smirked.

You noticed that he was still wearing his Red Hood outfit, sans leather jacket, helmet, and gloves. His messy hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat. He finally reached your room and you helped him with the door knob. He set you gently on the bed before turning to leave.

“Wait,” you reached for his arm, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I got your text,” he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up even more, “We can talk tomorrow. You go to bed. It’s late.”

“No, I want to talk to you now,” you whined, “Come sit here.”

“I’m sweaty and dirty,” he reminded you, “I need a shower.”

“Shower later,” you dismissed, “Please?”

You gave him your best puppy dog eye you learned from Dick.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. He took off his boots and climbed into bed next to you, leaning against the pillows and stretching his legs, just like how he was hours ago when he was watching thrillers with you. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to explain what happened,” you told him.

“Okay, then. Explain.”

“That night when we were at the bar, and I left early? You already know why, right?” you began, “I was just really heartbroken. I was crying all the way back in the car-”

“I’m sorry,” he cut you off, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” you shook your head, “You couldn’t have known. But I did just feel so fucking horrible that night, and, well, I went to Dick.”

You glanced at him. He was looking into space in front, but you saw his jaw clench.

“I asked him- begged him more like- to sleep with me,” you continued, “I just needed to try to forget about you, so I asked Dick to distract me. That’s how it started. It was supposed to be a one time thing, but it became more than one occasion. I’m not defending him or anything, but I just wanted you to know that it’s not entirely his fault. He wanted to help me.”

He kept quiet, his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought. He didn’t look like he was going to say anything, so you decided to break the silence.

“I just thought that, if you wanted, maybe we could start over?” you tried, “I’ve been pining over you for so fucking long, Jason. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to not just jump your bones?”

You saw the corner of his lips twitch upward.

“Especially when you work out, gosh, I’d find any excuse to just sit there and watch, you know? And I’m there thinking to myself what your sweat would taste like.”

He was smiling now, a blush forming in his cheeks.

“Remember that one time I accidentally walked in on you changing into your trunks in the pool shed? That was spank bank material for like weeks-”

“Okay, okay” he laughed, “I get it. God, you’re so fucking lewd.”

He looked at you endearingly, coming closer.

“You know,” you went on, “Usually when two people confess their love for each other, they end up kissing. But we? We haven’t kissed yet. So could you do a girl a favour and- mmppf!”

He shut your ramblings up by suddenly crashing his lips against yours.

Finally.

You could finally feel his lips. Though they felt chapped and rough against your own, he was a good fucking kisser.

The depth of his kiss sent shooting heat to your belly, the way he massaged your lips and prodded his tongue to enter your mouth made you whimper.

But then he broke off the kiss.

“Wait, I just really needed to ask you something. That night when you said you had a nightmare and I came to your room, was Dick there?” he brought up.

“Yeah?” you answered sheepishly.

“So when I was at your door, he was…?”

“I made him hide in my bathroom,” you answered.

“Oh,” he frowned.

“Comere, Jay,” you pulled him by the neck for another kiss.

This time, it got heated. The two of you were fighting to taste each other, to memorize your mouths with your tongues. You climbed on top of him and straddled his lap without breaking it off.

But then, he broke off the kiss again.

“Wait a second,” he realised.

“Jason,” you whined, “Not now.”

“No, no, I’m pretty fucking sure I heard you shout my name the other night, which is why I came running to you. I thought you needed my help,” he recalled, “But why would you call out my name when you were with Dick?”

He looked up at you with his curious, bright blue eyes, searching for an answer. You felt yourself start to blush in embarrassment.

“I’ll tell you some other time,” you forced a smile.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, okay, fine!” you gave in, “Dick.. he does this really good voice impressions, okay? So he, uh, well, he did this really good one of you.”

“He impersonated my voice?” he said perplexed.

“Yeah, and it was really good. It sounded like you were actually talking to me. Down to the accent.”

“What accent?” he asked.

“Your accent, Jay,” you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, I don’t have an accent,” he grumbled, “But what does that have to do with- oh.”

His eyes widen in realisation.

“Did Dick fucking roleplay as me?” he blurted.

“I wouldn’t call it roleplay,” you answered in a small voice.

“Then what was it?”

“He was just… fingering me while… talking to me in your voice…” you trailed off.

Jason simply blinked at you.

“He wanted to steal your helmet, too but I didn’t let him,” you added.

“So you came to Dick pretending to be me? You called out my name when you came?”

You nodded slowly, looking down at your thumbs.

“Holy shit,” he chuckled, “That’s kinda fucked up. I’m flattered, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t believe you made Dick pretend to be me.”

“I didn’t make him!” you huffed defensively, “He insisted!”

“It was Dick’s idea?” he gasped.

“Yeah, and I told him how wrong it was and how I couldn’t expect him to do something like that for me, but he just continued, and uh, I just indulged,” you finished.

You looked down at Jason then, seeing his expression slowly change from surprise to a darker, sinister smirk.

Without warning, he flipped you over so that he was on top of you, his body trapping yours against the bed, his arms pinning your wrists above your head, his knee between your thighs.

“Well then, princess, let me tell you something,” he purred, “You have the real thing right here, and everyone knows that the real thing is much better than some cheap knockoff.”

He then shoved his tongue into your slightly open mouth, deeply thrusting it back and forth while he grinded against your core with his knees according to the same rhythm. He took a hand from your wrist and dipped beneath your t-shirt, dragging it up your waist to your ribs, to push up your bra and squeeze your breast.

“Though,” he added, “I hate the fact that Dick has touched you this way.”

“Then you just need to overwrite it with your own touches, Jay,” you suggested.

“Hmm. Keep your hands up here,” he whispered and proceeded to take off your bra, revealing your tits to him beneath your shirt that was hiked up.

“Beautiful,” he commented before going down and suckling a nipple into his mouth.

“Jason,” you moaned at the sensation of his wet and warm mouth.

He stopped and took in your other nipple, then started trailing wet opened mouth kisses and licks and nips down your body, dipping his tongue in your navel, pausing above the waistband of your pyjama pants.

Oh, he was so good at teasing you.

He just rested his forehead on your pubic bone, panting hot breaths you could almost feel through the cloth while his hands rubbed up and down your thighs. He then hooked his hands below your knees and pushed them upwards.

Only then did he go lower and started mouthing at your centre through your pants.

“Jason, please,” you whispered.

“Please what, princess?” he teased before nipping at your covered clit with his canines.

“Fuck!” you gasped, “Please stop teasing me.”

He chuckled and straightened up, and then grabbed your waistband and pulled your pants off along with your panties in one swift motion.

Without even warning you, he spread your thighs once more by holding your legs up by the knees and dived in to start eating you out.

“Oh, holy shit!” you moaned at the feeling of his warm wet tongue licking long and hard stripes through your lips.

You wanted so much to run your hands into his hair and pull and tug, but you kept them where they were, like he asked you to.

He then attacked your clit with his tongue and lips, alternating with sucking and licking.

It hadn’t even been a couple of minutes and you already felt your orgasm coming soon from the assault of his mouth.

“Fuck, Jason, don’t stop, fuck!” you cried as he just licked you faster and faster.

You came in waves of heat, your thighs squeezing his head.

You looked down and saw him looking up at you with a boyish grin, the lower half of his face wet from your slick and his own saliva. He came up to rest his forehead against yours and kissed you. You could taste your own juices on his tongue, and hell did that turn you on even more.

“I want you,” he demanded, “And I want you to make noise tonight.”

He straightened up to take off his clothes. You stared in awe at his naked body above you, how he looked like he was a greek god cut from fucking marble.

Those statues had flaccid and smaller penises, though, which was the opposite of what Jason had.

What Jason had was a beast, and that time when you accidentally saw him changing into his trunks that fueled your fantasies of him was just a small portion of his true potential.

His hard and leaking cock looked like it would stretch you deliciously.

He positioned himself on top of you, his body hovering over you while his forearms that supported his weight were next to both your ears. He reached down to align himself at your opening, and then pushed in slowly.

Both of you groaned together in pleasure. You felt the stretch you anticipated, and the familiarity of being filled.

Though this wasn’t your first time, it felt like a whole different experience because it was with Jason. It was Jason’s hot breaths against your skin, it was Jason’s sweat dripping down from his forehead to yours, it was Jason’s cock inside you.

“Jay,” you swallowed hard, “Jason.”

He started moving his hips, thrusting in and out of you, constantly hitting your deep spot that made you see stars every time he bumped against it.

“Louder,” he growled as he quickened his pace, sounds of skin slapping skin now filling the room, “I want him to hear what I do to you.”

Fuck, he was possessive, and it made your pussy clench.

“Argh,” he groaned.

“Jay,” you moaned wantonly, “Oh, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

Your cries were getting louder the faster and harder he went, and he wasn’t quiet either.

No, you found out that night that Jason was loud in bed, and you fucking loved how he didn’t hold back.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, “Say my name. Say who’s making you feel good tonight. I want to hear that sound ringing in my ears for days. Hell, I want him to hear that sound for days knowing he can’t have you no more.”

“Jason!” you cried out loud, “Jason, fuck!”

“Fuck yeah, your pussy feels so good,” he choked, “So fucking good for me, princess.”

You couldn’t respond with words, so you just kept on mewling and whining in response to his hard pounds.

“I want to come, baby, and I want to come all over you,” he whispered in your ear, “I want to rub my cum into your skin, wherever he touched you. You want that, princess?”

“Yes!” you sobbed, feeling the tightness in your belly getting closer and closer to springing.

“Tell me, baby,” he husked, “Tell me you want my cum.”

“I want your cum, Jason!” you cried.

“Where do you want it?”

“All over me!” you pleaded, “Please, I want it all over me! I want you to rub your cum into my skin, I need, Jason, please!”

You were dangling at the edge of your plateau then, and all it took was one last-

“Fuck!” Jason groaned, and snapped his hips against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut and you came, waves and waves of pleasure and heat spread across your body, causing you to tense up and twitch and writhe beneath him.

You felt a burst of warm liquid spill across your belly, on your tits, and even on your face, some dripping to your lips.

You opened your eyes to see Jason had straightened up on his knees, staring intensely at you, his mouth open slightly to accommodate his heavy breaths.

“What?” you asked, fatigue leaking into your voice.

“You look so beautiful with my cum on your tits and face,” he smirked.

You smirked back and darted out your tongue to catch the cum left dripping on your lips while taking your hands and spreading whatever was left on your breasts, rubbing it in circles into your skin. You explored down to your abdomen and scooped up his cum, bringing your fingers to your mouth and licked them clean.

He tasted salty, and bitter, but still so fucking good.

“Holy shit, you have a cum fetish,” he stared in awe.

“Only trying to help you mark what’s yours, Jay,” you giggled.

He smiled and collapsed next to you, staring at the ceiling. “I want to have sex with you, like all the time.”

“No complaints here,” you laughed, “Fuck, I think I was really loud. Do you think they all heard us?”

“What, you didn’t hear Damian shouting and telling us to shut up?” he raised an eyebrow.

“What?!” you sat up in horror, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he looked at you smugly, “It was right before you told me you wanted my cum.”

“Oh, god, no,” you hid your face in your hands, “How am I going to face them tomorrow?”

“With fucking pride, princess,” he grinned.

You laid back down on the bed, feeling the mortifying embarrassment.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he scooted over to you and kissed you on the forehead, “It’s not like Damian doesn’t know about sex, and it’s not like Tim is so quiet either.”

“What?”

“You mean you’ve never heard Tim during his happy sessions?” he gasped, “Lucky you. Made me shudder, but I give him shit for it all the time. So it’s okay, see? Even Dick, he-”

Jason stopped his sentence midway at the mention of Dick.

“Anyway, everyone is going to make fun of us, but that’s because they’re jealous they’re not getting any,” he reassured you, “Except Damian, he’s still at that age where he hates girls.”

“If you say so,” you doubted.

“I’ll punch them if they make fun of you, okay?”

“Okay,” you giggled, and rolled over to face him, “I’m going to shower. I’m covered in your spunk.”

“Well, I needed a shower ever since I got back,” he propped himself up with his elbows, “Your shower open for service?”

He grinned at you.

You grinned back.

The two of you head to your bathroom.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd #Jason Todd reader insert #Dick Grayson x Reader #Dick grayson reader insert #dick grayson #red hood #nightwing #dc #batman #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #dceu #dc comics

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