#once again... minimal proofreading sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

it-was-summer · 19 days ago

Text

... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9,791

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead.

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside.

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say.

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander.

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head.

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?”

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you.

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression.

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot.

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,”

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.”

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?”

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. “Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey.

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at.

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.”

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again.

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one.

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?”

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.”

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.”

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question.

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.”

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin.

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?”

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,”

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.”

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger.

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps.

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar.

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,”

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,”

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit.

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.”

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.”

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you.

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,”

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile.

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?”

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.”

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?”

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.”

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction.

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.”

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,”

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.”

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years.

“Did he even like trail mix?”

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer.

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?”

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.”

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.”

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you.

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.”

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat.

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm.

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,”

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here.

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up.

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat.

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone.

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it.

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice.

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free.

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up.

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction.

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone.

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange.

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons.

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway.

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away.

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous.

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes.

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes.

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?”

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders.

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile.

“Bills?”

“Bills.”

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.”

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,”

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.”

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal.

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.”

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary.

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?”

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.”

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.”

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in.

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–”

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.”

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.”

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office.

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair.

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.”

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee.

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?”

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze.

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…”

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look.

“I’ll text the rest of the group.”

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.”

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them.

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel.

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?”

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?”

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you.

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–”

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?”

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?”

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—” he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are.

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you.

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,”

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran.

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.”

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard.

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly.

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,”

“You don’t… know?”

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you.

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it.

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.” Is what you settle on.

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something.

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.”

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.”

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.”

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly.

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’.

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful.

Wanting more than that was greedy.

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,”

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said.

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?”

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,”

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.”

“Care to take a guess?”

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?”

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?”

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.”

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours.

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly.

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot.

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?”

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather.

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf.

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,”

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer.

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,”

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again.

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew.

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal.

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?”

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.”

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–”

“You didn’t even know him!”

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.”

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer.

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.”

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,”

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner.

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up.

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.”

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?”

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen.

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.”

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—”

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.”

“I am paying?”

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.”

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—”

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.”

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears.

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours.

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.”

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,”

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.”

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.”

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?”

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain.

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.”

“Then make it up to him,”

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him.

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk.

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket.

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then.

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer.

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd?

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again.

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point.

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose.

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company.

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low.

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought.

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees.

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?”

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.”

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.”

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,”

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,”

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.”

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.”

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,”

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,”

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.”

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,”

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you.

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—”

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again.

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.”

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response.

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft.

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,”

“I like slower.”

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?”

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street.

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last.

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

#fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #dr reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #...and fall in love whenever you can #it-was-summer

297 notes · View notes

luvfy0dor · 6 months ago

Text

“His Hands are in my Hair, His Clothes are in my Room ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; Nikolais and Chuuyas are hardly proofread, Nikolais was rushed, Nikolais nearly got scrapped, I don't like Nikolais, maybe a little ooc

Description; sharing clothing w the BSD boys

A/n; GUYS OH MY GOD I GOT A 5 ON MY FIRST AP EXAM IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF AHHHHHH IM GONNA CRY also I'm sorry posts are so few and far between. It's so hot and hard to function. I know I said the exact same thing to excuse minimal posts in winter but like. its literally hot as balls and all I got is a puny ass 8yro fan and the occasional sip of iced water.

Osamu Dazai ★

• Dazai likes to take your old T-shirts to sleep in when you lend them to him for the night. After a few nights of having Dazai at your house, you wonder why your sleep-shirt collection has nearly cut in half.

ೃ⁀➷

You unlocked the door of your apartment and pushed it open with your unoccupied hand. The other arm held a large brown paper bag filled with gas station food and snacks for you and your boyfriend, who followed you inside. Once you set the bag down on the coffee table, you retrieved your keys from the door and closed it. When you came back to the kitchen, Dazai had already dumped everything out and was sifting through all the options. "The walk back from the gas station was hardly five minutes and I've already forgotten everything we got." He says with a grin, opening a bag of chips and eating a couple. He offered you some, holding the bag out to you. "Want some?' He mumbled.

"Yeah, let me just change into pajamas first, I don't wanna do anything until I'm comfortable." You said, shrugging off your jacket and starting to undo your belt before you even make it back to your room. Dazai followed suit, bag of chips still in hand. "Can I borrow some?" You nodded before taking off your shirt and tossing it in the laundry hamper, going through your closet to find a shirt for your boyfriend and yourself. "Thank youuu~" He plops down onto your bed, keeping the chip bag upwards so he doesn't get any crumbs or dust on your nice blankets. He watches you pull one of your band shirts over your head, admiring your body from his position on your mattress. He's snapped out of his daze when black fabric comes flying at him, but he catches it before it can smack him in the face. "Thanks, babe, you're so kind."

He switches his work clothes for your old ones, the big shirt nearly swallowing his scrawny torso comfortably. "Alright, I want snacks, come on." You gesture for him to follow you back out to the kitchen where the array of snacks was waiting for the two of you on the counter. There were numerous kinds of chocolate, and Dazai had grabbed a couple bags of gummies for himself. There were a few more bags of chips for variety, and you scooped everything up in your arms to bring to the living room. You dropped them all on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. "Alright, what movie are we feeling?" You ask, turning to the brunette man. "Uhhhhh, how about an action movie. Somethin' that looks exciting." He says, slinging his arm over your shoulder while he munches on sour gummy worms. Eventually, the two of you decide on a Godzilla movie, slumped against the couch with chocolate residue on the tips of your fingers from your candies. Dazai let out a long sigh as the movie came to a close, leaning into you and resting his head on your shoulder.

You ran your fingers through Dazais messy and slightly greasy hair, scratching his scalp and listening to his pleased, quiet hum. "Are you falling asleep or are you up for another movie?" You ask him, watching the credits roll on the TV. "I'm up for another movie, I just think I might be having a sugar crash." He says, groaning as he sits back up. You nod and grab the remote again, browsing through all the film options. Every now and again, your eyes involuntarily flickered over to your boyfriend, and you couldnt help but smile. He looked really cute in your shirt, and it almost made you wanna treat the movie like chopped liver and cuddle up to him.

"You look really cute." You say, playing whatever movie you absent-mindedly started in your daze. "Oh, I know, right?" He grins running his hand over his body. "As a matter of fact, I've never felt sexier." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down with a smirk. You can't help but laugh at him. "Let's get you on a playboy cover." Before you know it, he's standing up in front of the TV. "Scrap the movie, you have me for entertainment instead." He puts his hands on his hips and strikes a pose, making you laugh some more. "You want some attention? I mean, I guess since you asked so politely." You stand up with an eye roll and pull him in, kissing him and running a hand down his side. He keeps one hand on your chin, tilting your head to meet his lips, sighing quietly each time your lips part for a quick moment. Soon, you both need more air then small gasps and have to pull away. He smiles and messes with the fabric of your own shirt. "How about we ditch this mess for now and go to bed, yeah? We can continue comfortably there?" He offers, You glance back over at the piles of snacks, opened or not, scattered acrossed the floor. Normally you'd make him help you clean up before doing anything else, but tonight you really couldn't be bothered and just wanted to follow Dazai wherever he'd take you. "Alright, let's go."

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Everyone knows that Chuuya adores his hat, but not everyone knows he's got a decently sized collection of fancy hats on top of his closet. One day while rummaging around and trying to find one of Chuuyas button downs for him, you notice them all on the top rack.

ೃ⁀➷

"Chuuya, you didn't tell me you had so many hats!" You called out to him, standing back and staring at them all. Chuuya was currently in the bathroom, shaving his peach fuzz to keep his smooth face. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I've got a ton." He calls back, washing the shaving cream off of his skin. "They're pretty..can I try some of 'em on?" You ask, reaching to grab the one on the top of the stack. "Go ahead." He walks out of the bathroom with his towel around his waist, leaning against the doorframe to watch the little fashion show you were about to put on. The first one you grabbed was adorned with flowers of various colors. You placed it on your head and turned around, posing with your hands on your hips.

"What do you think? Vogue worthy?" You ask him. He smiles at you and nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "One hundred percent, that's peak fashion." He says genuinely, standing up straight and walking over to the closet. He reaches up and grabs another hat for you to try, switching it out for the flowers one. This one is a dark, reddish brown color. "This one's cute too." You giggle and head over to the bathroom to see for yourself. "Ooo, I'm not sure this kinda hat is necessarily for me." You giggle. "What do you mean? It looks great on you!" He says, following you in and hugging you from behind. "You only say that because they're your hats." You say, grinning.

"I mean, I guess not everyone is destined to look good in them like me." He says, squeezing your hip. "I gotta actually get ready for work now, I'm probably runnin' late." He says, turning around and dropping his towel. He tossed it into the hamper before getting dressed in his usual attire, spotting the button down that you had forgotten about in favor of his hat collection. "Okayyyy." You yawn, stretching your arms over your head and treading through the bedroom to start your own morning routine. You didn't have to leave for another hour, but Chuuya had to get to work within the next 30 minutes. After brushing your teeth, you notice Chuuya searching the bedroom for his usual hat.

"The nightstand." You point out to him. He sees it and lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing it and plopping it on his head. "Thanks, doll. I gotta get going' now, but I'll see ya tonight, okay?" He says, pulling you in by your waist for his daily goodbye kiss. "Yeah, got it." You smile before kissing him sweetly for a quick moment before he backs away. "Alright, I love you, see ya later." He playfully smacks your ass before letting go of you and heading out to the door. "Bye Chuuya, I love you, I'll see you later!" Once you heard him leave, you smiled to yourself and headed right back to the closet. You didn't necessarily have to get dressed just yet, so that gave you some time to try on a couple more hats on your own.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor doesn't mind letting you borrow his cape if you seem cold, or he'll simply wrap it around you and pull you into his side. He prefers the latter, considering it doesn't take much for him to get chilly.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodor held your gloved hand in his as you both walked down the snowy streets of Yokohama. It was the winter solstice and you both decided to take a walk down one of the most popular roads and do some window shopping. By the end of the evening, the hand that wasn't occupied with holding Fyodors held a warm cup of hot chocolate that you sipped on periodically. "Have you enjoyed yourself tonight, Myshka?" He asks you, adjusting his ushanka and gazing up at the sky, noticing some snow start to fall. "I did. Thanks for coming with me, I know you have a lot of stuff to do." You respond, bringing the cup to your lips for another sip. He waves his hand dismissively. "That doesn't mean I can't accompany you." His thumb rubs over your knuckles as snow starts landing on his hat and your head, the street lamps illuminating the darkness with a tangerine-colored glow. You nod at his words, leaning into his shoulder and shivering.

"It's so cold, Fedya." You say, your head on his shoulder and your hand squeezing his tightly. He lets go in order to put his arm around your waist, pulling his long cape over your shoulder. "I know, the walk home isn't much further, don't worry." You smile and hold onto the old, worn material to keep it in place. "You're right, thanks." You say, feeling butterflies in your stomach. It never mattered how long you and Fyodor had been together, every affectionate action made you feel like you had just got together. He held you close with his cape still shielding you from the cold and adding a layer of warmth to your jacket. He would peer over at you every now and again, laughing under his breath at all the snow that was getting into your hair. "What's so funny?" You ask him, a smile spread acrossed your face. "You've got a whole bunch of snow on your head." He tells you. "It looks like dandruff."

You roll your eyes and yank the ushanka off of his head, placing it on yours instead. "There, now you won't have to look at it." You hold the fluffy hat on top of your head and try to prevent him from taking it back when he tugs on it. "No, you can get your own, my ears are cold." He says with a smile, eventually pulling it back into his own possession and patting it off. "I will say though, you look better in my hat than Dazai did." You give a proud smirk and rest your head on his shoulder. "I'd hope you'd think so." Your street comes into view and you pull him along as you speed up, wanting to get into the warm, cozy house as soon as possible. "I know running isn't exactly your thing but pick up the pace a little, I wanna get under the covers and cuddle." You tell him, getting closer to home with each passing second.

He picks up speed for you and listens to the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. It's not long before you've pulled him all the way home and you're unlocking the door, nearly spilling inside to get into the warm living room. Fyodor follows suit, unlacing his shoes and hanging up his cape and ushanka. You wait for him in the open doorway that connects the living room and the hallway, ready to curl up in bed away from the harsh cold. "Alright, I'm coming." He says, treading through the hall with you and opening the bedroom door. His hand rested on your lower back as you both walked to the comfortable mattress, crawling under the covers and pulling each other close. "Your cape is really warm and comfortable. You should wrap me in it more often." You say, scooching closer to him and letting his arm drape over your waist.

"Hmm, I guess that wouldn't hurt. You really like it?" He peers down at you, his head propped up on his fist. "Yeah, I might have to steal it, actually." You say seriously, making him click his tongue. "You're welcome to steal it if I'm not wearing it." He says, chewing on the inside of his cheek habitually. "Then expect it to be off the hanger more often then not." He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, laying his head down on the pillow. "Okay, that's fine, but right now you have me and the blanket to keep you warm." He murmurs, closing his eyes. "Well you're not contributing to that as much as the blanket, but whatever you say." You kiss his cheek and brush his bangs out of his face. "G'night Fedya, I love you." You say, resting your head on his chest, ready for sleep. "I love you too, y/n, sleep well."

Nikolai Gogol ★

• You always loved Nikolais outfit and couldn't help but wanna put it in one day. You were sure he wouldn't mind, after all, sharing attire was nothing foreign to your relationship.

ೃ⁀➷

It started with you trying on his blouse for fun, but then you decided the blouse wasn't complete without the vest, pants, gloves, collar, shoes, or hat. Everything fit you a little differently than it fit Nikolai, but it didn't matter, because when you walked over to the nearest reflective surface, you found yourself cute, and you almost couldn't wait for Nikolai to get out of the shower to show him. You just needed one more thing, his cape. You ran out to the coat rack by the door and swung it behind you and then over your shoulders excitedly, grabbing it by the edges and moving it around. You felt really fancy with his cape, swaying your body just to feel the fabric move with you. As a matter of fact, you were so caught up in how good the cape made you feel that you didn't even realize the bathroom door open.

"Oh, wow, dove! My outfit looks so good on you! I've never noticed how much the red gloves pop until now." You turned around so fast, as if you were sitting in silence and all of a sudden a full file cabinet tipped over and crashed onto a linoleum floor. "Wah-! When'd you get out? I mean, thank you, but you scared me!" You say with a nervous laugh. "I thought it looked cute." You murmur, starting to pull off the gloves, but he stops you. "Hey, wait, you should stay in it for a moment, I'm not done admiring you yet!" He tells you, walking over and grabbing your hands gently. He leans in to kiss you, his smile palpable on his lips. You hand falls on his shoulder, rubbing it up and down affectionately before pulling away. "You really like it that much, huh?"

He nods. "Ofcourse! Oh, I'd love to show everyone how wonderful you look. Would you let me?" He asks, squeezing your hands tightly. "Sure, Kolya, go ahead." He quickly skitters off to fetch his cellphone, returning with the camera app already open. "Pose." He says, watching you place your hands on your waist and cock your hip a little bit. "Ah, gorgeous." He says, spamming the capture button. "Okay, I think that's enough." He says, his cheeks a bit pinker than before. He tossed his phone onto one of the side tables and embraced you once again, resting his head on top of yours. "Come on, y/n, I'd like to see you in my whole wardrobe now!" He says excitedly, pulling you along back to the bedroom. You don't necessarily know what you ignited in him, but it was certainly something, and now you were preparing yourself for a god-knows-how-long fashion show for your boyfriend. Not that you really minded, ofcourse.

A/n; another post that was supposed to have sigma and then didn't have sigma because I wanted to watch Jersey shore instead of write. ALSO I WENT TO THE DENTIST YESTERDAY terrible experience I cried but don't tell anyone I said that

580 notes · View notes

prdx-invdr · 7 months ago

Text

୨୧⸝⸝ : and i promise, this time i won’t be late.

PAIRING! idol!wonbin x fem!reader GENRE! fluff, angst (quite a bit this time i think) WARNING! just wonbin tryna be a good bf alsooo not proofread WC 2.5k

NOTE! smth shorter to make up for the fact that i haven't written anything in ages, sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth it will happen again

wonbin finds himself praying that you're still awake right now. he looks down at his phone for the thousandth time, wincing every time the minute changes.

it is currently 1:06 in the morning. running an anxious hand through his hair, he continues to glare at the time being displayed as though it would go back a few hours if he stared hard enough. he thinks about sending you a message to verify whether or not you're still up, but decides against it with a shake of his head. he already feels terrible, and he thinks that if you happen to be asleep right now and wake up to his sorry, pathetic message the next day, it'd only make him feel worse.

lost in thought, wonbin doesn’t even feel the arm that wraps around his stiff shoulders until the person touching him decides to speak. “you’re coming with us, right?” sungchan asks, causing wonbin to look up for the first time in what feels like hours.

all the boy can utter is a “what?”, meeting the eyes of his taller group mate. “the corner store down the road is still open,” sungchan explains, “we’ve been talking about stopping there since practice ended. were you not listening?”

wonbin takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair once more. he hadn’t been listening, of course, because the moment practice ended the only thing on his mind was getting back home to you. it wasn’t a rare occurrence, but practice only seemed to drag longer than normal today, and while wonbin knows that you’ve always been understanding of the fact that he comes home late, he can’t help but feel apologetic. he tells himself that he owes it to you to come home on time just once, and he’s blown it again.

1:10 in the morning. “sorry,” wonbin breathes, “i can’t go.” he doesn’t say anything more than that, and he doesn’t have to. sungchan drops his arm from the younger boy’s shoulders, instead opting to pat him on the back reassuringly. in the same sense that this isn’t wonbin’s first time coming home late, it also isn’t the first time he’s had to bail on his friends in exchange for arriving at your shared apartment just a bit earlier, even if it doesn’t make much of a difference. despite everything, wonbin is still late, and there’s no changing that.

sungchan nods, “next time, then.” wonbin offers him a nod in return, and the older boy only gives him a smile and a wave before turning around to catch up with everyone else. wonbin is frozen for a moment, watching the silhouettes of his group mates get smaller and smaller before he finally begins the journey back to you.

1:45 in the morning. wonbin holds his breath as he opens the door to your apartment, making very minimal noise. he still prays that you’re awake, but can’t blame you if you aren’t.

he wants to call out to you, the same way he wanted to send you a text earlier, and the same way he wanted to arrive at a reasonable time for once. he keeps his teeth clenched.

it’s 1:50 by the time wonbin stops in front of your shared bedroom. you’re sleeping— he’s sure of it. despite this, he still can’t find it in him to regret making an attempt to come home sooner. he knows that you’d appreciate it if you knew.

he pushes open the door and there you are, a tense look adorning your face as you sleep. he takes note of how you likely weren’t even sure if he would be home on time or not, yet you still stayed to your side of the bed. whether it be due to routine or simply because you were hoping that he’d show up, his heart drops nonetheless.

he quietly walks over to you, pausing when he reaches your side. he had wished for you to be awake up until this moment, but finds it ironic that he currently doesn’t want to wake you. he doesn’t even realize that he’s subconsciously moving hair away from your face until it’s too late, and does nothing to stop himself once he notices.

letting his hand drift down slightly to stroke the side of your face, he releases a shaky sigh. “i’m sorry, my sweet girl,” he whispers, watching with somber eyes as your expression softens as if you’re able to sense his presence in your sleep.

he makes his way over to his side of the bed and he knows that you won’t be affected by the way the mattress dips slightly as he lies down, because he’s done it so many times and you’ve never once woken up from it.

2:01 in the morning. wonbin hates that he can only lie beside you for a few hours before having to leave again, before you even get the chance to open your eyes. it’ll be as if he was never there. it’s completely out of his control, and wonbin knows that, but he hates it. you’d tell him that it’s alright, the same way you’ve done several times, but he hates it. he hates every bit of it.

it’s 11:01 in the morning by the time you wake up, and you don’t need to turn around in order to know that you’re the only person in the room. wonbin had been here, this much you know, and you wish that you had stayed awake longer if it meant being able to see him, even for a moment. you wish that you had woken up abruptly at some point last night if it meant being able to see his sleeping face.

you don’t dwell on the thought for long— you never do, knowing that it’d only make your situation a lot harder to deal with. you feel around your bedside table in search of your phone, not having the strength to get out of bed just yet.

strike one, you think to yourself. on the rare occasion that you wake up and wonbin is by your side, he always lightheartedly scolds you for checking your phone first thing in the morning. he’d disapprove if he saw you right now, but he isn’t here to stop you, so you do it anyway. coincidentally, the only notifications on display are from the boy in question.

[6:23 AM] my bin <3: hiii babe

[6:25 AM] my bin <3: call me when u get the chance!!!!! i’ll be available (i will literally drop everything and pick up)

[6:26 AM] my bin <3: i love u pretty ….. 🤮

your mood lifts just by seeing his name on your screen, a surge of energy coursing through your body. you decide to go about your normal routine, the idea of calling your boyfriend never leaving your mind.

it’s 11:20 by the time you make it downstairs, everything looking the exact same way you left it. wonbin is nothing if not organized; if there’s any disarray in your apartment, it’s all from you. unfortunately, this means that there’s not many traces of your boyfriend left behind, and you often hope for him to forget to hang up his coat or line up his shoes by the door just to prove that he’s there.

you walk into the kitchen and the first thing you take note of is that you still haven’t taken out the trash. strike two, you think.

you made a mental note to take care of it a few days ago and you still have yet to do so. wonbin hasn’t been around enough lately to notice, but you know he’d jokingly give you a roll of his eyes if he saw the way it’s practically overflowing right now before proceeding to take it out himself. he’d do the same with the dishes piled up in the sink, chatting away with you while he took care of everything like it was no problem, and to him, it really wasn’t.

god, you miss him.

you pull out your phone, disregarding everything else as you click on his contact and hold the device up to your ear. it rings only 4 times before you hear wonbin on the other end.

“i was hoping you’d call,” he says, and you faintly hear the voices of his group mates in the background. you almost let out a laugh at his words, just to fill the silence, but it only comes out as a quick exhale. “why wouldn’t i? you told me to. and i would’ve, even if you didn’t tell me to,” you murmur, your words leaving you faster than you wanted them to.

“i just don’t feel like i deserve it, i guess,” he replies. you’re about to ask him to elaborate before he continues. “i stopped by last night. i’m sorry i couldn’t come sooner, i really tried.” you pause at his choice of words, wondering if he even noticed that he said “stopped by” rather than something along the lines of “came home”, as if the two of you don’t live together.

you shake your head, deciding that you’re looking too much into it solely because not being able to see your boyfriend is taking a toll on you. “don’t apologize, bin,” you exhale, “i’ve told you a million times i understand. there’s not really anything you can do about it.”

you know he’s probably shaking his head on the other side of the phone, or running a nervous hand through his hair the way he always does. “i know, just- i’m sorry. i want to see you.” you nod, and he doesn’t see it. “i want to see you, too,” you reply. “should i wait up until 3am today?” your words are meant to be taken as a joke, but wonbin immediately retaliates. “you better not! your beauty sleep comes before anything else.”

you talk with him about anything that comes to mind and it’s as easy as it always is. when he tells you that he has to leave and get back to practicing, the two of you exchange prolonged “goodbye’s” and “i love you’s” before you finally pull the phone away from your ear with a sigh. you think that hearing his voice only made you miss him more.

when you look up from the phone you’re once again greeted with the trash can, as filled to the brim as ever, and you think taking it out would make for a good distraction. not far from it, the dishes are still piled up, and you consider washing them. you don’t, though. strike three.

you spend the rest of the day going through the motions, body moving on autopilot as it does quite often lately, and at the end of it all you look back on everything and think that it had all been normal— aside from the fact that wonbin doesn’t come home.

despite his initial protests, you’re awake until 3:26 in the morning. you’re not sure what time he arrived home last night, but you think that it couldn’t have been later than this.

you had made sure to take a nap at some point during the day just so you could be awake at this moment, to see your lover, talk to him, even if it had only been for a few minutes.

you shoot him a text, praying that the urgency you feel can be expressed through the little amount of words you send. you fall asleep waiting for his response, only to wake up to an empty phone, and an even emptier bed.

if there was barely any traces of wonbin in your shared apartment before, there definitely isn’t now; his lack of presence was evident the day before despite the fact that he had been there for merely a few hours, but after last night?

for a moment, it almost feels as though you live by yourself.

12:03 in the afternoon. swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you make an attempt to go about your routine as normal. you can already picture the sight you’ll be greeted with downstairs— an overflowing trash can, the accumulating dishes in the sink, only this time, there’s no messages from wonbin asking for you to give him a call or telling you that he loves you.

to your surprise, by the time you manage to trudge downstairs, you aren’t greeted by any of those things.

the trash can that had been previously close to spilling over has been emptied, an empty bag now taking its place. there’s no dishes in the sink, all of them instead sitting in the dish rack waiting to dry. before you’re able to turn around and demand an explanation, you feel arms wrapping around your waist, and you swear that your eyes almost fill up with tears.

“my sweet girl, i missed you,” wonbin utters from behind you, and in an instant, you’re spinning your body around and returning his embrace. he can sense that you’re about to ask him a myriad of questions, and opts to continue talking before you can get a word in. “i’ve only been here for about an hour or so. i’m sorry i couldn’t come home last night, baby.”

you shake your head, about to offer him the same reassurance you always do, when he begins to speak again. “i practiced until super late last night. i wanted to finish learning the choreography as fast as possible—“ you open your mouth to scold him, pulling away from his chest momentarily when he cuts you off for what feels like the thousandth time. “—and before you yell at me, it was for a good reason,” he pouts, waiting for you to press your lips into a tight line before starting to speak again.

“i overexerted myself a bit, i think, but it was all worth it. i’m all yours for the next few days,” he finishes, a hand stroking the back of your head. the two of you stand there for a while. “i love you’s” and “i missed you’s” are exchanged rather than goodbyes, and neither of you are willing to move from your positions, blissfully unaware of the passage of time for once. it’s alright, though— you both have time. a lot of it.

for a moment, wonbin gets the urge to apologize again, whether it be for all the times he’s arrived home late, or for leaving you alone with an overflowing trash can or a sink full of dishes, but it’s almost as if you’re able to read his mind. “don’t feel sorry anymore, bin,” he hears you say, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt. he only nods, the words dying on his tongue. he decides that he’ll accept your reassurance just this once.

wonbin isn’t sorry, because this time, he isn’t late.

AUTHOR’S NOTE! beabadoobee my wife

#riize #wonbin #park wonbin #riize imagines #riize x reader

229 notes · View notes

hanrinz · 2 years ago

Text

THE EGOIST NEXT DOOR.

pairing. isagi yoichi x gn! reader ( word count. 1.0k ) genre. boy next door

synopsis. wherein the guy next door often borrows things from you and then he asks for something different.

content. fluff, just isagi your handsome neighbor, loser isagi lol, use of the word 'pretty', word vomit. minimal proofread.

notes: after a month of no post i finally posted smth :') omg i miss writing sm </3 omg first real fic?? lol :x isagi is a loser no one can change my mind.

a knock sounds through the hallway, six in the morning, you were woken up from your slumber.

who could possibly be up at this hour, on a weekend too? other than your grandmother who you think is the only person who can possibly do so, no one else comes to mind.

swinging your feet off the mattress and dragging yourself to the front door. the knocks haven't ceased down and it only adds to your annoyance.

"coming!" a frustrated huff leaves your mouth as you unlock the door.

only to be met with deep blue eyes and a sheepish smile that accompanies his face.

oh.

"isagi?" brows knitted in confusion, your newly moved neighbor isagi yoichi, who's around your age and often passes by your door by night coming home from practice.

if you recall correctly, a month has already gone by since he had occupied the door next to yours. and a month since he has been knocking at your door whenever he needs something.

or moreso in borrowing something from your home.

most of it being ingredients that should never be gone inside a kitchen. the last thing he had borrowed from you, was your sugar that he still hasn't returned.

the last time you checked your apartment wasn't a convenient store, just for him to knock at and get things as he pleases. you might as well charge him for everything he's been borrowing in your home.

"hi, pretty," a hand comes up as a greeting. curse him and his face, isagi yoichi was too pretty to be smiling at you on this god-forbidden morning.

"sorry to bother you this early, but i need to borrow something, again." he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"isagi, this is the seventh time already." you reminded him.

isagi is nice, yes, unfortunately. it can't really be helped for you to be mad at him long, not when he always makes sure to drop by some cookies that you love, with little notes that are sticked on it.

a way of his compensation to the troubles he had caused.

isagi is nice, but this growing routine needs to be put to a stop—for your sanity and to your pocket that is on the verge of crying.

you're sure, soon enough the both of you would really need to run to the grocery for a restock—also the very thing that isagi had been forgetting to do, you wonder how he's even surviving.

his embarrassment only grew, his cheeks deepened to the shades of red and he clears his throat with a response. "i know, sorry."

you lean onto your door frame, sighing as you let him borrow something from you one last time, "fine, but this will be the last time."

his eyes were now brimming as he smiled so brightly, it might as well rival the sun itself.

"really?" disbelief and excitement evident in his voice. "but promise me first, y/n. you won't be mad, okay?"

you look at him with suspicion, one brow raised, eyes squint in question. "isagi.. what is it?"

"you won't be mad though, right?" he asks once more.

"just get on with it, yoichi."

for someone who is shamelessly borrowing a lot of things from their neighbor, isagi is losing all the confidence to ask you one thing right this very moment.

the pep talk he had with bachira the night before didn't even help with the ever growing anxiety that he feels on his chest. it's funny though, if he wasn't in this position he would've laughed at the situation at hand.

isagi is stupid and an idiot—what rin would've said to him, but lukewarm might just be the perfect word, for what he is about to do.

he reckons he could even possibly recover from this moment ever again, but to hell with it. what is he if not an egoistical striker who can't even get the number of his pretty neighbor next door?

possibly a loser, but let's be honest. he kind of is.

but we can excuse that because of his boyish charms, can we?

the silence that hovers over the atmosphere was rather foreign, uncharacteristically from all the comfortable stillness you had with him.

the anxiety that swirls within was contagious, isagi and this newfound silence was not helping with it.

and in the middle of all the uncomfortable reverie and this consuming tension, with hundreds of practice and perfection in his head, he still managed to fuck things up.

"can i borrow your phone?"

fuck.

isagi yoichi is a loser. even after all the countless talks and encouragement insults he had received, isagi yoichi had made a mistake once again.

you looked at him with confusion painted all over your face and to be honest, yoichi might have died a little on the inside.

but what's a man gotta do? he's more determined than to let his already blown away ego and his thoughts, back down from this.

"my phone?"

"..yes.. please?"

you look at him incredulously, doubt was much apparent, but you acquiesce to his plea. grabbing your phone from the bedside of your room, leaving isagi to contemplate every decision he had made.

coming back to him not long, with the device in your hand, handing it to him without any clue to what he needs it for.

an idea comes to mind onto what he is using it for, it may have been he was locked out of his apartment, or maybe he lost his keys, or maybe his phone was dead and his charger was nowhere to be seen.

a lot of possibilities, but it remained to be a mystery.

isagi returned your phone to you without a word, you look at him with much more confusion and he only gives you a sharp grin before running off.

what a way to save himself from this scenario.

leaving you puzzled, as you look at your phone with your contacts left open and noticing a new one added to it, with a name you're very much familiar with.

yoichi ;)

maybe, yoichi isn't here to borrow from you anymore.

#omg i finally wrote for him #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x you #isagi yoichi x you #isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi fluff #isagi yoichi fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #roses ‘r rosie

1K notes · View notes

hard-core-super-star · 28 days ago

Note

Hey rubix!! I just watched the marvels and I LOVED it!!! I was wondering if you could do a carol x reader fic where Carol is introducing her gf to Monica and Kamala and they just click really quickly and bond 😭

I’m going on a carol rampage atm bc she just looked too GOOD 🤭

- ✨

if forever will have me [C.Danvers]

paring: carol danvers x reader

summary: your girlfriend brings two stowaways on board after a rough mission, you welcome them with open arms while carol tries to adjust.

warnings: none?; fluff with minimal plot; carol's a dorky mess and we love her for it; brief emotional moments but nothing too drastic; R's a mom friend in this one frfr; not proofread; i still suck at endings

wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING OVER A YEAR TO WRITE THIS 😭 you deserved so much better, lovely anon, please forgive me. in an effort to make it up to you, i turned this into a longer fic than i originally planned, and sort of tweaked the movie plot a little because i felt it was missing a few scenes like this. i really hope you enjoy (and that i didn't totally forget how to write for carol) and once again, i'm so sorry for taking so long to write this. hopefully, there'll be more carol fic in the making soon <3

* * * * * * *

To say you were worried about Carol would be an understatement.

While it wasn't completely unusual to go a few days without hearing from her, thanks to how chaotic her job could get, she always made sure to update you as soon as possible. Especially when you were staying in her spaceship catsitting.

Truth be told, Goose didn't really need babysitting. Mainly because more often than not, Carol just took the alien cat with her, both for comfort and companionship. However, it gave the blonde the perfect excuse to convince you to join her.

Again, you didn't really need convincing, but it made your girlfriend feel better when you were brought on board as part of her team. Her "team" being you and her...and Goose...and the occasional call from Nick Fury...and King Valkyrie. As much as the blonde insisted she preferred working alone, she was surrounded by a pretty badass support system.

Said support system wasn't enough to help her with her newest problem, though.

A problem that even you weren't qualified to help her with.

Ship full of homeless Skrulls and emotional visit from the King of Asgard aside, it was nice to have other people aboard. Even if one of those people was Carol's sort of adopted (and abandoned) daughter and the other one was a teenage girl who was quite literally Captain Marvel's biggest fan. They might not have been your first choice of companions, but you were nothing if not a welcoming host.

As soon as King Valkyrie transported the Skrull refugees back to Asgard with her, you made your way to your girlfriend's side.

"Hey," you say, you hand reaching out to take hers. "Rough day?"

Your words make her chuckle despite herself. "That's an understatement."

"What do you need from me?"

"Just...don't let go."

Her arms envelop you before you can even try to question her. You happily return her embrace, allowing her to bury her face against your shoulder and let out the heaviest sigh you've heard in a while. She doesn't have to say anything for you to known she's trying to decompress after the shit show that's gone down.

You hold the blonde close as you run your hand up and down her back, eyes bouncing back and forth between Monica and Carol's biggest fan. As awkward as it is for you, you can't imagine it's any easier for them so, you break the silence.

"Cool ship, right?"

They both nod, although the older of the two looks anywhere but you. You can't really blame her considering her history with Carol and how weird the whole situation is. A situation you still don't know any details of.

"Is, uh, is she okay?" The younger brunette ask.

"Oh, yeah, she's just...recharging."

Your girlfriend grumbles something in response, but you don't pay her any mind. It's not your fault she's literally a human lamp.

You sidestep the two of you until you're out of sight. It's not like you want to be secretive or anything, there's just a higher chance the blonde will tell you what's wrong if it's just the two of you.

"Hey, babe," you murmur.

She grumbles once more, slowly detaching herself from your neck. The glassiness of her eyes instantly makes alarms ring in your head.

"Carol-"

Your girlfriend instantly shrugs you off. "I'm fine, I just...need some time."

As badly as you want to argue with her, the last thing she needs right now is more difficulties.

"So, you're just going to leave me here with your new friends?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"You'll be fine, it's not like they're too happy with me either right now."

She tries to laugh it off, but you're no fool. You can see the heaviness on her shoulders, the far-away look in her eye that can't mean anything good. As badly as you want to go with her, you know she needs some time to catch her breath on her own.

So, you let her go, leaving you alone with the newest members of your unofficial team.

Not even five seconds go by before the silence is interrupted by the young brunette. "I didn't know Captain Marvel had a girlfriend."

"Does that mean no one talks about me in the fan forums?"

"That's probably for the best."

You cross the small space until you're in front of them, offering them the warmest smile you can muster. "Listen, I know this situation isn't ideal, but it's nice to have other people on the ship."

Monica gives you the smallest of smiles in response, which might not be much, but it's a start. A start you're not about to waste.

"Let's start over, yeah?" You say, somewhat aware of how shitty they must be feeling too, if Carol's barely hidden emotions are anything to go by. "I'm y/n, this ship's second captain."

"Kamala." She eagerly shakes your hand. "This ship's nice. Actually, it's really awesome."

"I know," you whisper in response, earning yourself a brighter smile.

Once Kamala finally releases your hand, you turn to face the older brunette. The soft look in her eyes does little to soothe your nervousness. You'd imagined meeting her many times before, although under much better circumstances.

"Oh, I'm Monica, but I'm assuming you already knew that."

"Yeah, it's really nice to meet you."

The sincerity in your voice seems to catch her off-guard, but she recovers before you can call her out on it. And by recover, all she really does is sidestep the conversation you need to have.

"Do you think Carol needs help?" She asks.

"Oh, she needs a lot of help but good luck getting through to her," you reply with an affectionate roll of your eyes.

Kamala barely stifles a laugh at your words, clearly enjoying the dynamic you're starting to form with them. While Carol wasn't exactly hard to read, she could be a little rough around the edges at first, especially when placed in stressful situations she feels responsible for.

Monica, on the other hand, lets out a long sigh. "I meant with the ship."

"Oh, yeah, probably. Just know she'll say no if you ask her."

"Yeah, I had a feeling."

There's an edge of nostalgia to her words that you understand all too well. As badly as you want to talk to her about it, to reassure her that what happened wasn't her fault, that Carol still cares, you know it's not your place.

Unfortunately, you're also aware of how awkward your girlfriend can be. It's as endearing as it is frustrating.

While Monica goes down to the ship's engine room to talk to Carol, you stay with Kamala.

You let her admire the place for a few moments before you speak up again. "Hey, you okay? Want to talk about what happened?"

Her eyes remain glued to Goose, busying herself with petting her even while she responds to your question. "You mean how I totally got scolded by my idol?"

You honestly have no idea what she's talking about, but you want her to feel supported, so you nod anyway. "Sure, if you want to."

The only response you get for a few seconds is a heavy sigh. You can see her shoulders slumping forward as she allows herself to finally accept how she's feeling. "I really didn't think our first meeting would go like this. It was supposed to be cooler, y'know? Full of bonding and really funny jokes and me getting to show off my awesome powers. Instead, I just messed up and made THE Captain Marvel mad."

You do your best to stifle the laughter that threatens to bubble up inside your throat. The last thing you want to do is invalidate her feelings but...you can't deny how amusing her rambling is.

"Sweetheart, I promise you Carol's not mad at you and I don't even know what happened. She's just protective. And really stubborn. And not the best team player."

Your words seem to bring little comfort to her. "I just...I don't want to disappoint her."

Kamala's voice breaks at the end, leading you to spring into action faster than you can even process. Even though you're not exactly sure how to comfort her, you know you have to do something. At least until Carol comes back.

"Hey," you say as you walk over to her, your arms wide open for her. "You won't. You're not going to disappoint anyone, okay? I guarantee you Carol's beating herself up for yelling at you. She's a captain, not a tyrant."

Your words make her chuckle even as she accepts the hug offer. She might not fully believe you right now, but that's okay. All that matters to you is that she doesn't feel like an outsider. Because as weird as it might be, you're all in this together now and that means being there for each other.

A few seconds go by before she speaks up again.

"Hey, um...is there somewhere I could shower?"

"Yeah, let me show you."

You show Kamala to the bathroom, helping her figure out how the shower works and giving her some of Carol's oversized clothes to wear. It's a small thing, but you hope it'll help her feel a little more at home in your large spaceship. It'd taken you a long time to get used to the whole being in space thing too.

Once you get back to the main area, you find Monica again, a thin layer of tears making her brown eyes sparkle. You're not exactly sure how to approach her, or if she even wants to be approached, but you know you have to do something. As much as you love Carol, you don't trust she didn't accidentally stick her foot in her mouth.

Monica watches you approach, silently analyzing your next move.

As much as you want to simply walk away, you can't. Not when you know how hard your girlfriend has been on herself about what happened with Monica and her mom.

"It's been hard for her too, y'know?" You say with a soft smile.

She blinks a few times, seemingly trying to hide how affected she is. "Oh, I don't...I'm fine."

Maybe you should leave it alone, it's technically none of your business, and yet...you can't stop yourself from prying a little. Mainly since you're also acutely aware of the team-up situation they find themselves in. The last thing they needis to be at each other's throats because of their past.

"Yeah? Is that why you can't look at Carol for more than five seconds?"

Her jaw clenches at that, but you stand firm. Or as firm as you can be when you're staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. The gun in question being Monica's exasperated expression.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

Despite her attempt at sounding mad, the way her voice cracks reveals the true feelings lingering under the surface. The ones she's been pushing down for who knows how long.

"Maybe." You shrug. "But I know she's been beating herself up for not coming back sooner. I know she spent the majority of the last five years talking about your mom. About you. You're her family. The only one she has left."

Monica tries her hardest to appear unaffected, but the change in her expression says it all. Her eyes soften as her jaw unclenches, her bottom lip trembling just the slightest bit to let you know you've cracked her defenses.

"She has you."

Her words are soft. Not really a complaint or an argument. Simply a statement. One that makes your face flush despite your hardest efforts.

"That's not...you know what I mean."

For once, she drops the cool act. "I do, but my point still stands. You're her family too. And honestly? I think she needs you more than I do right now."

You let out a soft chucke. "Yeah, I can't argue with that. You'll be okay?"

The question is far more loaded than you realize and yet, she nods. "Yeah, I think so."

With that, you make your way back to Carol, not at all surprised to find her muttering under her breath as she paces back and forth. "Everything okay, Captain?"

She stops in her tracks the second she hears your voice. "Something like that. It's been a long day."

"Tell me about it, it seems you've brought out some strong emotions in everyone."

"Yeah." The blonde does her best to glue a smirk onto her face, but she fails miserably. If anything, her smile comes off more like a grimace than anything.

You cross the space between you in an instant. "How are you holding up?"

She answers your question with one of her own. "How's Kamala doing? I shouldn't have yelled at her earlier."

As much as you hate her tendency to side-step talking about how she's feeling, you allow it. Clearly, you're not the only one who's gotten attached to the young girl. "She's okay, maybe a little upset, but nothing a warm shower can't fix."

A long sigh escapes her and even though you want nothing more than you wrap her up in your arms, you hold back. As difficult as it is, you wait for her to show you what she needs. "This is why I don't work with a team. I'm awful at it."

You can't stop yourself from poking fun at her. "You're literally a captain, though."

This time, the smile that crosses her face looks warmer. Real in a way you're used to. "That's not funny."

"I thought it was hilarious."

You wrap your arms around her neck before she can complain about your shitty jokes, pulling her closer. She catches on pretty quickly and wraps her arms around your waist before she leans in to capture your lips in a slow kiss.

The moment ends far too quickly for your liking.

Her forehead rests against your own, her blue eyes sparkling with emotions you know she can't fully put into words. Not that you'd ever force her.

That being said, you wish you didn't know exactly where things were going.

"You're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?" You ask even though you already know the answer.

"Nope." She pecks your lips before you can protest. "I have enough to worry about, I can't put you in the line of fire too."

"You know I don't mind. I want to be here for you."

Her hand leaves your waist to trail her finger up your arm. She grips your wrist and slowly brings it away from her neck and toward her chest. "I know, princess, but I have to do this on my own. I have to fix my mistakes."

You find yourself huffing in response. "I hate it when you get all serious like that."

She chuckles, bringing your wrist up to her lips for a few lingering kisses. "I'll come back to you before you know it. Promise."

"I'll be waiting, Captain."

You pull her back in without another word, knowing full well you'll both keep to your promises.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x female reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers fic #carol danvers #captain marvel #brie larson #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu imagine #wlw #wlw fic #writing

65 notes · View notes

haerni · 5 months ago

Text

HOW SWEET, “i’m without you”

synopsis: y’know it’s just an old trick && the demon who keeps knocking at your heart knows the formula,, but you won’t fall for it anymore, right ?

ft. lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun + park sunghoon. (based on ‘how sweet’ by NewJeans!)

content: fem reader! just hyung line trying to rizz (woo) you up, kind of exes to lovers, they fumbled lol except for jay, lowkey implied toxic relationship, miscommunication trope, subpar dialogues struggling fr, jake & reader has issues fr (10:36 inspo). 2.8k words

— as always minimal proofread and very self indulgent >< & also because i wrote it on a whim.

( 🗯️ ) notes: a very word vomit drabble, haven't written in a long time, my exams are approaching soon this is sort of a lil warm gift from me ! ^_^ can u tell i love jay.. he's literally every eldest daughter's dream :(

JUST STEP OUT YOU LITTLE DEMON IN MY STORYLINE don’t knock on my door, i’ll see you out

this has been too much of an occurrence, a habit that heeseung has grown accustomed to. he knows he shouldn’t, its not acceptable, he knows he’s subjecting himself to a torture that was designed to be his dreams of you.

he should stop, he should leave, yet he finds himself once more at the same blocks of pavements with the exact same four steps up to the porch decorated with flowers that bloom so prettily in the night. and his knuckles hits the same wooden door, eyes dazed, out of his mind, but he knocks.

he knows he doesn’t have any right to be here. to stand in front of your door letting his frame lean on it as he waits for the same footsteps he has memorized.

heeseung prided over being a gentleman, he’s respectful, he knows his boundaries—his place, but right now he’s anything that.

maybe lee heeseung has never been one after you.

he hears the scuffle behind the door, and maybe it was weird that he knows exactly those footfalls, how just sound manages to touch a vile in him, a rush of excitement thrums as he waits the door to creak open. because the other side to where he stands, there you were.

it opens.

there you are—his favorite girl. a frown adorning your face and your eyes reflecting the warm light above your door, “you can't keep doing this, heeseung.”

and a stupid smile makes its way to his face when you call his name. he’s almost thankful he stopped taking the drinks jake kept giving him, it could never even compare the sound he hears now (which he would rather much indulge in).

“hi, baby,” he breathed.

he may or may not remember this night, but he’ll regret it again in the morning.

you scoff at him, “you can’t call me that now, heeseung.” his name felt like acid to his face when you say it that way, but nevertheless lee heeseung lets you burn him—because he deserves it, a faint voice whispers in his head.

“sorry, bad habits.”

what a little liar, he was. because after all, he knows that you know it was, there was never a point for him to utter it in your face.

he doesn’t know what was worse, the venom that kills you or the silence that drowns you? heeseung prefers if you would curse him just a little, maybe he would feel more good with that, maybe it would lessen the guilt that lies heavy in his chest.

but heeseung is addicted, he is addicted to this tryst (you’re not together anymore, he reminds himself) and he still asks you the same question.

“let me in?”

he was bad for you, you knew that. he wonders why you still open your door for him every night his feet takes him to you? you were just as addicted as him, he surmised.

it’s selfish, but he wishes you’d stay the same.

DONE SCROLLING THOUSAND TIMES I KNOW IT’S AN OLD TRICK it’s a very simple formula

for someone who you call as your ex, park jongseong became much more than that to you.

your fallout was something you couldn't call fine, because it isn't. you were a mess—jay wanted to hold you and you can't have yourself fall over the edge just yet.

you weren't ready and he was.

you and jay are the polar opposite of each other. he was put together, he knows what he wants, he has everything, he is secure with himself. and you are simply not everything he was—it was daunting, it scared you and it was stupid. jay loved you all the same, he was perfect and that became bigger than all the good things you call in your relationship with him.

you knew that dating jay would come with perils and problems, you knew them you would both overcome it. but is love really enough to be an answer, when you were the problem itself?

it is incomprehensible to you, how can someone be capable to love this much?

you never asked him, he couldn't give you an answer that you deserve because of it.

it’s unhealthy—you are calling him again. you really shouldn't, you knew your friends would be disappointed. it's ironic how fast you fall in the abyss of darkness, but you couldn't trust yourself to do the same when he asked you to let him catch you. (familiarity was a variable that played a favor over your heart and jay knew that)

the dial tone rings—once, twice, you hear his voice.

“yn, you okay?” it was immediate and it's soft. it's too much. you're convinced you were cursed. you yearn for it, for him.

he waits for you, as he always does. patiently, as you knew him and he hears the breaths you take, the sniffles, he worries more. he tries to call you out once more.

“lov—” he catches himself from saying it, “hey, talk to me, angel.”

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what is wrong with me, ‘seong,” you try to catch your breath, apologizing as soon as you said it.

god, it breaks something in him, “it’s okay, yn. i got you, yeah?” he’s already at the door taking his keys, he doesn’t have any right, but you need him, right? please say it to him, please need him just one more time and let him hold you this time. as soon as he utters his prayers, you whisper.

“can you come to me..” it was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it, “please?” but he’s glad he did.

when he had declared that he would love one person in his life, he vowed and kept it. park jongseong was in it for you, he knew why you broke things off with him, he understood—like all the times he does. you probably didn't know, but he couldn't get himself to remove the picture of you in his bedside. when you called him a week after, he knew he should hang up the call and let you figure things out by yourself, but he didn't. your number stayed as it was before. he should grant you space and time, but he couldn't. because jay loved you so damn much, it's either you or no one else.

be damned all those fears that lingers with you, because park jongseong wants you and only you.

I WON’T ASK ANYMORE (HOW SWEET IT TASTES) you don’t have to tell me now that i’m without you

one thing that jake fails to understand was how much you think he doesn’t need you as much as you need him. he shoots all your words down before they can leave him out alone.

the nights have always been a nightmare for you, not because of the dark veils in the sky, or the monsters that chase you, but because you can’t sleep. you cannot descend to slumber as you would have when you were a child—it was easier then. now warmth was more of a problem for you, it’s a small problem it shouldn’t really be much to be fuzz over it. a stuff toy would’ve solved the problem just fine, it provided you the same security that lulls you into the night.

except that you have found sanctuary in sim jaeyun—a safe haven that envelopes you deeper into sleep, his warm body offers more than security. serenity and heaven sounds just as the same when he holds you in the night.

but everything should always come to an end, doesn’t it?

you don’t know when the peace he had offered cracks through you and it felt like a burden of guilt you couldn’t understand.

“we can’t keep doing this, ‘yunie.”

he doesn’t get you, confused and bewildered at your sudden statement to him when he sat down on your couch. he thinks you’re playing with him, maybe a prank, one of your silly little ideas. because he is sure as hell you didn’t just call your relationship as something like ‘this’, like it wasn’t worth of anything.

“what do you mean, yn?”

the air feels a little heavier, jake knew then that he wouldn’t like what was ever you were going to say. and he does whatever could save him of his position to you, whatever could shut down every rejection you think of. but before he could even dismiss it, this time you beat him to it.

“let’s stop this, jake. stop pretending like you need me.” you say more firmly.

he frowns at that, he doesn’t need you? are you being serious? “i don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty. because i’m pretty damn sure i’m not pretending here.”

you scoff at that. he doesn’t really get it does he? “aren’t you tired? we aren’t anything jaeyun, you’re just someone who helps me sleep at night and i don’t want to take up your time, i don’t want to use you. we’re nothing more, nothing less than this.”

this—jake hates that word now.

why do you keep using it, why are you reducing your relationship as to something less than what it should? why are you pushing him away now? why were you pretending like it’s nothing? why are you not understanding that you’re not the only one who needs something?

“what’s so wrong with this? with us?”

“everything!”

what’s wrong with that? what’s wrong with holding you in the night to sleep? so what if you don’t know what to label it between the boundaries of romantic and platonic? what was wrong with having you? what was wrong leaning to him? to ask him for help?

his eyes tell you everything you need to know that goes in his head, because you’ve known enough to read him. you were friends since you were fifteen and now you don’t know anymore, but you know him. you can’t lean into him anymore—not when, what you feel now steps over the line of what a friend should be.

(it feels weird now, to have the need to hold someone at night, yet you want it. but you can’t tie down jake, you can’t do that to him.)

jake doesn’t understand what the problem was. he knew the risk of what the two of you had agreed, he was willing to bet on every star that he wouldn’t mind for you to have him.

he doesn’t understand but he knows he loves you, “hold me, then. don’t let me go.” he pleads with you.

you can’t.

I’M FEELING MY OWN WAY I’M IN IT ‘CAUSE ME AND YOU ARE DIFFERENT so i won’t stay, i’m leaving

you and sunghoon has always been an intricate of woven patterns, with spools of threads of your color stitch into each of you. both of you are too much of each other. you used to think nothing could ever sever the tapestry the both of you weaved. that was before he was miles away from home and time was not a challenge to the both of you.

all the memories you remember were now bound with his last words before he left, “take care.”

he was called to train internationally, it was big. he was making a name for himself out there and now his name is called over to be known by the world. you’re always happy for him, you’re proud. sunghoon was made to be in the spotlight, he was made to be loved, he was born to be on a stage where he shines. and you think sunghoon looks pretty, he looks pretty when he’s on the rink, skating. he looks so happy there, a place so far yet so near where you can’t step in and reach.

he looks so happy without you and that was okay, you think to yourself. it’s okay, a repeated mantra sounding in your mind as you watch him through a screen.

waiting wasn’t new to you and wanting him more wasn’t either. you don’t really know what is much worse.

there is a space between that bleeds, an indentation of sunghoon in your heart. cold was a familiar company in your darkened nights, his name was like a ghost of an echo in your home.

it’s okay, you remind yourself again. you’re fine with this.

because he looks so happy when he’s not with you, park sunghoon belongs to the world and it makes you sick—even though you know it’s selfish and it’s disgusting to feel something like this—you realize then, you don’t want to be part of that world, just among the sea of faces he’ll forget.

the picture in the frames looks at you with mockery, his side in everything feels hollow and nothing. he is like the ocean that slips past beyond your fingers, but completely engulfs you wholly, having your lungs deluge in it. it pierces through like an arrow, the same ones where you used to believe it was out of love, before everything comes down.

you love park sunghoon, you really do. in the depths of your heart his name was carved gently and carefully.

a name that would solely have your heart beating in a mile, you've never thought it would just end up bleeding, cut open freshly with his own hands, a heart you have given so willingly and with so much trust that you can ever offer in a silver lining platter. to love boundlessly and endlessly until you’re a void of nothing, but a shell of yourself shriveled. but you can’t stop pouring the wine until it overflows—until it’s empty.

you’re not sure where it started, when all the warmth turned cold, where he decided to give up, you're not sure if you can keep fighting.

you never saw it coming, you’re sure the love the both of you had can overcome anything, it can have your relationship stay afloat through all the storms and tides of problems and indecisions, maybe you’re wrong, maybe it was him, maybe it was bound to happen. you’re too hurt to think about it. but a mirage plays in your mind dauntingly, that you can still have those memories you had together, the thread stands on its own, stretching to its limits, the lines dwindle and your hope dies down together with it.

when did his hands drop yours?

the indentation he leaves is noticeable, you can hardly miss it, after all you felt like you were the letter that got crumpled.

his name echoes around the walls of your home (can you still call it a home if it’s devoid of anything?) a mockery to you, his things were, his conspicuous absence, the darkened place of loneliness, the moonlight bleeds into the window, giving your room an illuminated light, it’s suffocating, and somehow the room seems smaller, closer, a cage or walls of once you knew were the sanctuary of comfort, now stands tall as nothing, but a reminder of the fall apart.

the heart of once you have loved was gone and you’re not sure if you’ll be fine by then. were you even sure of anything at all? living with a ghost of a name in your heart, moving on wasn’t always easy to do, but you hope nonetheless, you hope his name would be nothing, but healed scars from all of the distance.

he comes home on a random wednesday with nothing, but his training suit and eyes that you always adore tired and on the verge of falling. a crazed look of apprehension, sunghoon knew you were slipping through his fingers when you wouldn’t answer his calls anymore and the best thing he could think of was to hold you, physically—so you wouldn’t disappear on him.

when he stands in front of you the words don’t appear in front of him, it’s frustrating.

“why can’t you just leave me?”

and god does he wish you wouldn’t say that to him again.

“i can’t,” he whispers, “i tried and i simply can’t.”

when park sunghoon met you, he started dreaming—he was nine summers then. still has the childlike wonder who held admiration and you were eight who live on the other side of the road from his house, he thinks you were pretty.

like a beautiful sunset he always watches with his sister on the seaside, you always seem to be there for him anyway, catching a glimpse of your face on the side of his eyes. his coach always scolds him for being distracted in the rink, he only responds with,

“sorry, coach. i’ll do better.” he wanted to impress you back then. (he still does.)

the sun shines so brightly it doesn’t miss how it always seems to reflect your smile. laughing at something your friend has told you, he wonders what it was.

back then the two of you didn’t really talk much at first, always the brief gaze at each and little waves. but nothing more, he wishes to talk to you on other days, when the time is slow and the breeze washes all the heat from his face, but he doesn’t, always hesitating, almost made encounters, but by the end of it he’ll just back out the last minute.

it’s almost a surprise how he even managed to call you his, park sunghoon has loved you since the ninth of summer.

you still love him despite everything.

he thinks you are still pretty until now, wearing his old jersey with his name on it on the sidelines, cheering him on top of your voice, he decided right then that he would like to have you always there for him.

—fin.

｡｡｡ ♥︎ likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated! hope y'all like this, i went a lil crazy on hoon ㅠㅠ.

#enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sim jake x reader #park jongseong x reader #lee heeseung x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon x reader #* NEW © ───── haerni.#enhypen

80 notes · View notes

byunejoo · 1 year ago

Text

four seventeen p.m 𐦍

pairing asakura jo x fem reader

content est relationship, virgin!jo, inexperienced boyf!jo, big dick!jo, he’s kinda massive, oral (m rec), handjobs, fingering (f rec), finger sucking, kind of dom!reader but not really, virginity loss, protected and mentioned unprotected sex, condom breaking, he’s embarrassed, he lowkey has a praise kink, potential size kink, mentioned pulling out (but only barely)

word count 3.8k

notes not a request! (where are the jo requests </3) lol i told myself when i was writing this that it wouldn’t be long bc i wasn’t attracted to jo like that…..brain said “u wanna bet dani?” also this is not proofread and the ending was rushed so don’t mind any mistakes please

To say that Jo was nervous would be a major understatement.

You’d been dating Jo for a few months now and it was nothing short of wonderful. It seemed that the two of you operated on the same wavelength; you both shared the same hobbies, opinions, interests, and even your differences didn’t clash, but instead balanced each other out. It almost felt like you were made for one another.

On the other hand, though, he felt very nervous for the next step in your relationship. So far, all you have done was minimal affection—a kiss here and there, hugging and some slightly-stiff cuddling. But he’d noticed lately how much more clingy you were, how your touches lingered, kisses were longer, and your eyes wandered. He wasn’t dumb. He knew what you were thinking about.

But the issue comes when it actually gets down to it.

It’s not that Jo is a virgin by choice. Well—his own choice. There were times where he brushed off his nerves with others he was interested in, but once they had gotten his pants down, all plans fell through. In short, Jo’s dick is big. Much bigger than most people know how to handle. And instead of making him cocky and confident about his size, it did the complete opposite. He felt almost ashamed.

So, when you took initiative one afternoon, kissing him a little harder and longer than you usually do, he got nervous. He tried to keep up with kissing you back, but all he could focus on was your hand that dropped past his shoulder, sneaking further and further down his front. When he felt your fingertips brush past his belly button, he gasped and pulled back from the kiss. You, shocked from the abrupt action, pulled your hand away quickly and stared at him with wide eyes. Have you done something wrong? Did you make him uncomfortable?

“I’m sorry—,” you both started. The two of you gestured to one another to continue, awkwardly laughing.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” You shared a laugh about speaking again at the same time, but a blanket of seriousness covered the two of you after that. It was quiet and a little awkward. Neither of you wanted to be the one to break the silence after that. You watched as Jo avoided your gaze and fidgeted with his fingers. Those fingers that you often find yourself staring at as of late. Just thinking, wondering, imagining how they would feel—. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous to…do anything.”

You regained your focus, letting your eyes snap back up to look at his face. His cheeks were tinted a slightly pink shade, his ears red, and although he was trying to look at you, he couldn’t stop his shifty eyes. “We don’t have to do anything, JoJo, that’s okay.”

“I want to!” If you hadn’t been staring at him so intently, you would’ve been startled by his sudden burst. “Sorry…. I-I want…to do stuff. I’m just nervous.”

Reaching a comforting hand out, you patted him on the shoulder. “Why’s that, babe? What makes you so nervous?”

Jo finally made eye contact with you. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid your gaze yet again. He’s not sure if he could tell you while you’re looking at him like that. He doesn’t want to see the look of disappointment when he tells you “I’m a virgin.”

You snort a little, breathing out a sigh of relief. Scooting closer to him, you pressed right up against him to lean your head on his shoulder. “Thank god. I thought it was something I had done. You know I don’t care if you’re a virgin or not. We can do whatever you want, and not do whatever you don’t.”

He couldn’t deny how he hardened in his pants, thinking about finally having that moment, and with you of all people, being someone he cares about deeply. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the bulge in his pants, but kept your eyes trained on his face as you reached for it. You were searching for any sign of hesitation, any sign he wants you to stop. But there wasn’t one.

And when you finally placed your hand over it, Jo felt his breath catch in his throat. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but that didn’t matter. In just a matter of time, with the way your hand was now working over his pants, he would be.

“Is this okay?” You could feel the way his thighs tense beside your hand. He was still avoiding your gaze, but you could see that he was looking at where you touch him. He nods. “I want to hear you say it.”

“It-It’s o-kay.” His voice was a little shaky, but it gave you all the confirmation you needed.

You leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw. Adding a little more pressure, you cupped your hand more firmly around him, squeezing occasionally. His cock hardened, becoming more solid in your grasp. He gasped, taking shallow breaths as you kissed along his jaw and neck while you moved your hand. “Can I take your pants off?”

Your fingers slipped under his waistband when he said yes, hooking around his pants and underwear, pulling them both down to his thigh. His—now fully hard—cock sprung up, hitting against his stomach with a soft thud. Heat rushed from his chest all the way up to his forehead, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. He groaned, reaching for his half-discarded pants. But you pushed his hands away and pinned his wrists to his side. He stares at you with wide eyes, waiting for your next move. Were you going to laugh at him? Humiliate him and tell him he was too big to do anything with, like everyone else?

No, you didn’t do any of that. “Is this what you were worried about, puppy?” He almost sighed at the petname. “Were you worried that your big dick would scare me away?” He nodded. You couldn’t help but let out another laugh. Not because you were laughing at him, nor making fun of him, but you can’t believe that all this time it was only because of something he has no control over.

“Please don’t laugh at me.”

You coo. “I’m not laughing at you. I think it’s cute that you were worried about this. But I promise it doesn’t scare me. Actually, it’s kind of arousing.” As you spoke, you smoothed over the skin of his thighs, hoping to make him less tense. “I’ll only do what you allow me to do. Can I touch you?”

“Yes. I want you to touch me, please.”

As you move to straddle his legs, Jo feels the bed shift under the movement of your knees, much like the way his stomach turns and dips at the realization that it’s happening. You are about to touch him, you’re going to make him cum, being the first person other than himself to do so. Your steady hands reach out, and after what feels like centuries, you finally wrap them around his cock. Two of your hands don’t even cover him completely from base to the tip. You give him a few experimental, dry pumps first before removing one hand. Spitting into the palm of it, you then used it to lubricate the glide of your hands on his length.

It felt much different having your hands on him versus his own. Your touch, although firm, was a lot softer. Gentler. You moved your hands a lot more slowly, familiarizing yourself with the heavy feeling of him in your hands. Feeling every inch of him, every little vein, and embedding that feeling into your mind. Your thumb swipes over his tip, dragging little beads of precum down, making every tug and twist of your hands on his cock even wetter and more slick. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and let out low moans. He could barely register when you asked if you could use your mouth, which he agreed to, of course.

The contact from your tongue had his eyes shooting open, feeling like all the air was knocked out of his lungs. He managed to let his eyes wander down, and he was met by the sight of you already looking at him, kitten licking over his tip while stroking him. Then, while he kept eye contact with you, you wrapped your lips around him. Only the tip at first. Gently suckling, hollowing your cheeks, then pulling off. After a few moments, you began to take more of him into your mouth. Just a couple of inches, little by little, until you felt you couldn’t take any more. You used one hand to follow behind your mouth so not one inch of his cock went untouched as you moved your head, bobbing up and down, back and forth. Jo could only grip the sheets beside his legs tightly, moaning and sighing. It was a feeling he’d never felt before. One that he could only think about in his dirty fantasies. The idea of someone being brave enough to pleasure him and his big dick was something he thought was too far-fetched, something he thought he’d never experience in his entire life. But here you are, sucking him off and giving him pleasure he could only dream of.

Before he realizes it, a tight feeling spreads from his flexed abdomen down to his toes, where he curls them while trying to fend off his pending orgasm. He knows he can’t hold off much longer, but he selfishly wants to have your mouth around him as long as he can have it. “Ah, I-I’m gonna c-um…” His words were broken from the sounds he’d been making previously. You didn’t stop nor slow down, and instead attempted to take just a little more between your lips. One hand moved to shuffle his shirt out of the way, the other holding his length steady as you moved your focus to rolling your tongue over and suckling what you have stuffed in your mouth. His thighs tensed and shook lightly as you pushed him right over the edge, humming around him. Your tongue laps up every drop he spills, causing broken moans to rumble from his chest straight to your core. You’d pretty much tuned out your own reactions, focusing on pleasuring him for the first time, but you can’t deny how badly it had affected you.

Once you’d swallowed every drop you could, and he was twitching from overstimulation, you climbed off of Jo’s legs and sat by his side. “Was that okay?” You pressed your thighs together looking at him. His chest was heaving up and down with the deep breaths he was taking to regulate his breathing, his hair was slightly tousled from your previous kiss, and the slight sheen of sweat on his flushed cheeks looked all too good to you. Not to mention the faintest of red marks on his neck from where you’d attached your lips earlier and the way his eyes are squeezed shut. He nodded, not confident in his voice yet. Yes, it was good, he wanted to tell you. Better than I could’ve imagined.

A heavy, but comfortable, silence fell upon the both of you as you allowed Jo to catch his breath. However, you couldn't deny that his labored breathing next to you, and the desire bubbling up and finally coming to a head once you’d finally seen what you’d been longing for didn’t make you want more. But you promised, you’d only do what Jo wanted. You’d go at his pace. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, though, would it?

“Do you want to go…further?” Yet again, his breath caught in his throat at your bold question. “It’s okay if not.”

He nods, seemingly the only reaction he can manage at this point. And with a few more questions, answered with a shake or a nod of his head, you had switched positions. Now you were laying in the spot he previously had been, knees bent and pressed together as Jo sits on his heels, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted him to do. He’d never gotten this far with anyone else, either.

“Take off my shorts. Just the shorts.” You stared at him, watching him nervously lick his lips. His plump lips that you can’t wait to feel all over you—but that’s for next time. This time, you wanted the focus to be less about you, despite how his full attention was on you now. This was his first time, and you want the experience to be all about him. But you aren’t sure if you could take him without some sort of preparation first. So you watch as his trembling fingers hook around the waistband of your flimsy shorts, gently tugging them off of your skin. You lift your hips so he could pull them off easier. Then, you moved your feet once the fabric pooled around your ankles, watching as he dropped them to the side. He struggled to keep his eyes at an appropriate level, totally unsure of where he’s allowed to look. “Look at me, babe. I want you to take my panties off, and I want you to see how wet I am for you.”

Jo feels like he’s going to explode with the words you’re saying. You’re wet? For him? These words are so simple yet so new and vulgar to him, but he thinks he likes them. He wants to hear more. So he hooks his fingers around the fabric of your underwear, much like he had done with your shorts before, only this time more confidently. However, he wasn’t ready for the sight in front of him when he’d pulled them off. Naturally, his eyes followed an imaginary line from your ankles all the way down your legs, where he saw what he thinks is one of his new favorite sights. You’d spread your thighs as he slipped your panties off of your legs, and he had a clear view of your gorgeous pussy. It was so pretty, and you hadn’t lied when you said you were wet. He couldn’t help but admire how some of your arousal had leaked into the seat of your underwear, spreading across your folds that glisten now that he’d removed the clothing.

“Give me your hand.” You reached out for him, and without much thought, he placed his large hand in your own. One by one, you curled his fingers down until he had just his pointer finger standing. Then, you guided his hand between your legs. You helped him slide his finger through your slick arousal, wetting his finger and dragging it back up to your clit. “You feel that? All for you.” After that, you let go of his wrist and let him feel for himself.

He timidly ran his finger through your slit like you’d done, then stopped at your entrance. His fingertip breached the opening, being met with little resistance. Inch by inch, little by little, he pushes his finger into you slowly. Pulling it out, pushing back in, he sets an inexperienced, slow pace. Jo was fascinated with watching his finger disappear inside you. “More. Another one, please.” You breathed out. He hadn’t even noticed any of the sounds you were making before. But he obliged and added a second finger beside his first one. The feeling was new to him, having you squeeze around his fingers each time he thrust them in. And every moan and shaky breath you let out was something he could get used to. “Oh, Jo, your fingers are so good. Doing so well.” Every praise sent a shock through his body, and in turn caused him to fuck his fingers into you just a little faster. Twisting his wrist, curling his fingertips—anything to get you to make those noises again.

Suddenly, your hand shoots down to grasp at his wrist. He freezes in shock, halting all movement. “Mm, don’t stop, please. Almost there.” With barely enough time to register the words that slipped past your lips, Jo watches as you begin to grind yourself on his fingers. Whines, whimpers, gasps, all noises floating through the air make him twitch, already getting hard again. You’re fully fucking yourself on his fingers now, taking charge and pushing yourself closer to orgasm. And when your thighs start to tremble and your hips jerk, Jo finally snaps out of his trance and begins to move his fingers. He curls them and drags them against your walls, feeling you clench down on them. His thumb brushes against the spot you showed him earlier, your clit, and starts rubbing gentle circles on it. Your hips jerked, stomach caving in with the pleasure. A few swears mixed with broken moans ripped through your throat at the added sensation, riding out your high until you lightly twitched with overwhelming sensitivity.

He pulled his fingers out of you, covered and soaked by your slick release. Staring, he’s a little uncertain of what to do now; does he wipe them off? What is he supposed to do now that they’re sticky and covered in you? Luckily, he didn’t have to think much before you sat up on weak arms to take his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swipes up, down, and between his two fingers, licking him clean of any trace of arousal left behind. His mouth drops open in shock watching you, eyes following your every move closely. You hum around his fingers and pull off with a lewd pop sound. He couldn��t deny that he was hard again, mind racing with thoughts as you stare at him with eyes clouded by lust.

“Can-Can we…keep going?” He’s the one to ask this time. It was obvious that he was nervous from the shakiness in his voice, but you confidently nodded.

You rolled over to your side, stretching to reach your bedside table and pulling open the drawer on it. Reaching in, you fished around before pulling your hand back out with a shiny foil packet. “Have you ever put a condom on before?” He shook his head no and you beckoned him closer. Sitting up, you watch as he awkwardly shuffles his way to you, hard cock pathetically bobbing with each movement. “Watch me do it.”

With a firm grip, you held the base of his cock steady. You pinched the very end of the condom with one hand, and slowly started to roll it down his length with the other. It was a bit hard to do, but you managed to completely unroll it. The entire time, Jo’s eyes were trained on the work your hands were doing, trying to etch it into his memory for later use.

“It’s a bit tight.” He almost chokes on air at your words. “The condom, I mean. Does it feel alright? It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Jo looks at where you’re staring, and he sees the condom stretched tightly around his girth. He shakes his head no again, and you lay back, allowing him to continue.

He shuffles between your spread legs and tries to line himself up. When you realize that he’s just a little bit too shaky, you grab his wrist. “Jo. Are you sure you want to do this? You seem really nervous.”

He nods. You shake your head, urging him to use his words. “I’m…okay. I want to…do this. Please.”

“Okay. Okay. Take your time, babe.” You leaned back, relaxed. “There’s no rush.”

To Jo, it felt like an eternity before he was able to calm down enough to do anything. He was nervous, and excited. It was finally happening; he’d finally lose his virginity if he could just—. He presses his tip into you. The stretch was a lot, almost too much, but your slick wetness and the extra lubrication on the condom made the glide easier. Coupled with the fact that Jo was taking his time — he was pressing into you so slowly that if you couldn’t feel how he was stretching you out, you wouldn’t believe he was moving at all.

Jo braced himself on his hands beside your body. He slowly pushed his length into you until you couldn’t take any more. The two of you let out shaky breaths in unison, adjusting to the feeling. Of you being so full and of him being squeezed so tightly.

It was unlike any time he touched himself. For a while, he’d wrap his large fist around his equally long and thick cock, dreaming about this moment. He knew it would feel different. He just didn’t know it would feel this different. Having your gummy walls stretched and squeezing so tightly around him had his head spinning, and before he knew it, he was absentmindedly rutting his hips into you, trying to pathetically bury himself deeper inside you.

You gasped, grasping his shoulders, lightly digging your fingernails in. “Oh, Jo.” Small moans floated through the room. “You’re doing so good.”

He sits up on his knees to better drive his hips into yours, slightly jolting your body with every thrust. He, too, was letting out small noises of pleasure, trying to focus on what he was doing so it was pleasurable for both of you. But all of a sudden, he stops.

It took everything in you to not whine. Instead, you kept your composure. Maybe he didn’t want to continue anymore? This is a lot to take in, going from completely inexperienced to having your first everything in one night. You glided your hands down from his shoulders to his bicep, all the way down to his wrists to squeeze comfortingly. “Are you okay, Jo?”

He nods, shakes his head, then nods again. “I-Um. I’m…fine. It’s just,” you gently encourage him to speak. “I think…I think it broke.”

“The condom?” He nods. “Pull out. Pull out and let me see.” It took some urging, but he did eventually, hesitantly, pull out. And he was right — the condom had split and now had to be discarded. Jo had a pout on his face as he watched you gently pull off the ripped condom and toss it aside. He was fully prepared for you to tell him you can’t continue, and he accepted that. But you didn’t.

He lets out a confused noise. “We can keep going if you want.” You repeat. “Just let me know when you’re going to finish so you can pull out, okay?”

The feeling of being inside you without that extra barrier is so mind numbing that he almost doesn’t pull out. Almost.

#&team smut #&team hard hours #&team hard thoughts #&audition smut #&audition hard hours #&audition hard thoughts #asakura jo smut #jo smut #&team jo smut

303 notes · View notes

daisyvisions · 1 year ago

Text

Drive Me Crazy - (j.hn)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: inexperienced boyfriend!Hakyneon x experienced afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 1.5K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), pwp (minimal plot) me thinks, car sex, mentions of fingering, dry humping, blowjobs, oral (f! receiving). Handjob, unprotected sex (with multiple creampies), lots of making out and kissing, a lot of curse words (sorry), pet names (sweetheart, baby), virginity loss

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: Original idea was loosely inspired by an actual experience I had (but took the liberty of making it smuttier hehe 😈) Dedicating this one to you @winterchimez / @midnightfantasiez. Proofread once.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

“Fuck, are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my life-”

You pant into his mouth as you take a breather from making out for god knows how long. It’s been over eight months since you and Haknyeon have officially started dating and safe to say, it was like you two were still in some wild honeymoon phase.

Every chance you found yourselves alone together, you two wasted no time being in each other’s arms and letting out all the pent up tension you had on one another. Sneaking off into storage closets to make out, held back moans as he fingered you in bathrooms, and now? Dry humping the hell out of each other at the back of his car.

And all you had to do was give him one look across the room of this birthday party and he knew what you wanted. It’s those damn eyes, he smirks to himself before subtly motioning you to meet him outside.

It must’ve been the alcohol and the way he looked tonight because all you were thinking about as soon as he picked you up was to get him alone and finally ride him into sunrise.

You hastily got off his lap and flipped your hair to the side, hands eagerly finding their way to his crotch and trying to unbuckle his belt as fast as you could.

You could practically feel yourself salivating seeing his hard on tenting beneath his jeans. As you’re about to unzip his pants, he holds your wrists and stops you from going any further.

“W-wait-” He stutters.

“Ugh, Hak… again?” You let out a frustrated sigh.

This wouldn’t be the first time he stopped you from touching him despite allowing him to freely touch any part of your body. At first, you thought he wanted to take things slow, especially after you confessed to him that you have never been in a slow-paced relationship.

Every guy you’ve been with always wanted to get in your pants immediately and not enjoy the subtle touches and slow kisses here and there of a new relationship. So when Haknyeon asked you to be his girlfriend he promised you that he would give that to you.

But you didn't know he would take the term “slow” that seriously.

Yes, a relationship shouldn’t just be based on the sexual aspect, you knew that. You would still love Haknyeon even if he turned into a small little worm. But you’re just a girl after all. A girl with needs. You were horny as hell… and fingers and pussy eating were not going to make you last long.

You wanted his dick and you wanted it now.

“I don’t understand-” You pull away from him. “Is it me? Am I too much for you? Am I not attractive enough?” You started to feel a slight pain in your chest on the latter thought.

“No! No. You’re practically a goddess-”

“Then why don’t you want me to touch you then?” You pout. “I’m sorry Hak, I know we wanted to take things slow-” You huff out air you’ve been keeping in your lungs. “But- it’s not fair.”

“Not fair? What do you mean?” He looks at you with worried eyes.

“You get to touch me but I don’t get to touch you! Is there something wrong?” You patiently wait for his answer as Haknyeon closes his eyes and lets out a big sigh.

“You might laugh at me…” He could feel his cheeks warming up by the second.

“I've… I’ve never done this before…” He glances at you quickly before looking back at his hands.

“What do you mean you’ve never done this before?” Your eyebrows raise.

“I’ve never had sex okay? There I said it!” He exclaims, widened eyes looking back at you, waiting for your reaction.

“But, I’ve given you head before-”

“Yeah and I nearly came within the first thirty seconds. Had to breathe in deeply and bite my lip so you wouldn’t notice at all.” He looks down at his hands again, feeling ashamed.

“You probably think I’m a loser right now-”

“Hak- look at me.” You cup his face in your hands, leaning in to give him a kiss.

“That doesn’t matter to me. I just want to be with you, to feel you-” You kiss him again, but this time slipping in your tongue as Haknyeon lets out a tiny whimper.

“Would you let me feel you?” You whisper into his mouth. He hesitates for a moment, but as soon as he looks deep into your eyes he let go of his fear.

“Fuck- Please do…” He grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap once again, kissing your lips before leaning down to suck the sensitive skin on your neck.

You moan at his plump lips leaving their marks on you as your hands traveling from the back of his neck all the way down to finally unzip his jeans, freeing his aching cock from its confinements.

He suddenly stops kissing your neck and pulls away as you palm his erection, almost grabbing your wrists again out of impulse but you bring your hand to his cheek and caress him with your thumb.

“Shh It’s okay. Let me take care of you.” You slide your hand down his boxers, pulling out his member as you wrap your fingers around the warm skin.

Haknyeon hisses in pleasure, trying not to burst any second from how you’re slowly jerking him off. You smear his oozing precum around his length, gradually increasing the speed of your wrists as you kiss his neck.

“F-feels so good-” Haknyeon moans against your ear.

“Yeah? You think you can handle more?” you mumble against his neck.

“Please- I don’t think I’m gonna last long if you keep this up.” He feels you smirk against his skin as you stop your hand from fisting his length.

You lift your hips up and adjust your position as you pull your panties to the side, rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds before aligning it to your wet entrance and slowly sinking down.

“Fuck fuck fuck- wait a second.” Haknyeon whines out.

“What’s wrong?” You bite your lower lip, trying to hide your amusement at how he’s reacting.

“You’re really wet.” He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply.

“Well… that’s what you do to me.” You lean in to whisper in his ear.

Without warning you start to roll your hips, He deep groan comes out of his mouth as he tightens his grip on your waist.

“Oh that’s it, holy shit…” He moans as he guides your hips, “C’mere-”

He kisses you with much fervor as he gradually pulls your hips faster until you’re practically bouncing on his cock. You whimper against his mouth as you feel his thick length dragging within your velvety walls, finally feeling full inside because of him.

“Sweetheart t-think I’m gonna cu-oh!” His member twitches inside you.

“Give it to me baby, inside!” You try to bounce faster but Haknyeon suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, thrusting up quickly inside you like an animal in heat.

You feel a gush of warm fluid exploding inside you as he lets out grunting sounds. You think he’d stop at this point but he just keeps on thrusting into you, feeling his cum spilling out while the tip of his cock nudges that sweet spot deep within.

“Gonna- ah!” You shout, feeling your walls tighten as Haknyeon doesn't stop fucking up into you.

“C’mon, cum on me sweetheart. Can practically feel your walls choking my dick.” He groans into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, think I’m gonna cum again-”

“Cum with me Hak, please!” As soon as you utter those last words, he’s bursting inside of you once again. His load just as heavy as the last. You also reach your high at the same time, feeling yourself gush onto his member while seeing stars. You’re both moaning and panting into each other’s mouths. Kissing each other as if it was your only source of oxygen.

As you’re about to get off of him, he holds your hips down.

“C-can we uh… go again?” He shyly asks.

“You mean now?!” You gasp at the feeling of his member still hard and twitching inside you.

“Yeah…” You could practically see his cheeks turning red from asking. You let out a chuckle before kissing his forehead.

“Just, give me a moment okay?” You rest your head on his shoulder, keeping his cock plugged inside you til you’re ready to go again.

And boy, did you two go at it for hours and hours til the sun started to rise.

#deoboyznet #haknyeon smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #ju haknyeon smut #kpop smut #tbz hard hours

173 notes · View notes

filiazpink · 4 days ago

Note

HEYYYY IM THE GIRL FROM THE COMMENT SECTION OF YOUR ORION AND D-16 AND THEIR SUPERIOR FIC!!! i just wanted to let you know it was adorable and that if it’s alright with you i would love to see a part two! 💕💕💕

🩷"INFATUATED"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 - part 2

warnings: MAJOR transformers one spoilers, sentinel prime likes the reader too HELP, my cutie patootie oc being mentioned once, darkwing being darkwing electric boogaloo, cheesy stuff once again

summary: takes place during the iacon 5000, and a bit of the aftermath that follows. orion's crush is still very obvious and d-16 is warming up to you.

a/n: SO MANY NOTES ON PART 1?? TYSM EVERYONE 💗💗💗💗 and also a round of applause to this lovely requester here sending the ask that motivated me to make a part 2 :3 sorry it took so long i was busy with art commissions and writing my dark deception fic :( hopefully this will live up to the expectations of the 30 ppl that sent me in inbox to make a part 2 !! if you guys want a part 3 with even more stuff, lemme know in the inbox! it would be kinda fun to make a mini series with this idea for the whole movie !! ENJOY !!!

word count: 1740

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

somehow, you managed to gain one of the best spots in iacon to watch the race take place.

well, it was easy to know why.

sentinel prime himself considered you as one of ‘his closest friend’, so he reserved a special seat just for you: right next to him.

best seat in the house.

it was a very overwhelming experience overall, with cameras all pointed towards you and THE sentinel prime, the fact that you were simply next to the savior of iacon, the slight confusion you had for what you and sentinel were. i mean, you only spoke to him professionally, and those were rare occasions. surely, he met thousands of new bots everyday, yet he remembered you of all bots.

but all of that couldn’t compare to the dread that took over your entire body as soon as you heard sentinel utter the following:

“i’m sorry- are those miners in the race?” the two of you turned around to the giant screen to see that, indeed, there were cogless bots participating in the race.

and not just any cogless bots, bots from your sector!

and not just bots from your sector, it was those two charming bots orion pax and d-16!

your optics widened at the revelation, on the point of transforming to go and stop them before they get damaged beyond repair but sentinel held you back.

“hey- hey, what are you doing??” he mumbled, looking back at the cameras every few seconds to make sure they weren’t focused on him.

“those are workers from my sector!! i-i know them, i have to sto-”

“come on, (y/n), relax! they’ll be fine! besides, think of the inspirational boost it’ll give the other miners if they do win. they’ll be delighted.” he tried coaxing you into relaxing, going so far as to gently rub your shoulder in an attempt at comforting you but you had none of it.

“this is a first in iacon 5000 history!”

“oh primus, please, please, please keep them alive!,,,”

“how are they going to survive?”

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

eventually, the cameras couldn’t pick up feed on the tunnel that the majority of the racers, including orion and d-16, were in. the thought of finding them crushed or in worse condition sickened you. with a trembling hand, you quickly gripped onto sentinel’s, who couldn’t help but look smug at your reaction.

“they’ll be okay,,, right?!” you asked him and the prime sighed.

“don’t worry. if they end up hurt, we’ll just send them to medbay-”

“i don’t believe it! the miners take down darkwing!”

the crowd went wild at the display, somehow getting louder than it already was. the femme and the prime watched in astonishment as the miners went from last place to third place in such a short amount of time.

well, now you knew that darkwing was going to complain about that to you for the rest of the work cycle.

you let go of the blue and golden bot’s hand (much to his very visible disappointment) to place it over your mouth. your optics shined in absolute amazement, watching the main screen showing orion and d-16 looking more and more hopeful.

“OHH, MINERS!” darkwing literally roared at them, his fists clenching in total anger.

“great effort, darkwing!” orion attempted to cheer on darkwing for his efforts, but deep down, he knew once this was over, he and his companion were royally fucked.

“t-that worked! it actually worked! you think (y/n) saw all that?!” d-16 beamed, getting more and more excited at the thought of you watching them- watching him win the race.

“i’m sure she’s watching! she’ll be so proud of us!”

after passing the magnetic obstacle course tunnel (much to your relief, poor bots would have been crushed beyond repair), you felt like your body couldn’t handle all the amount of excitement, especially with the announcer going:

“a four-bot pile-up in the magnetic tunnel and the two miners are now in first position! this is UNBELIEVABLE!”

the speechless prime turned around, facing the finish line, pulling you alongside to observe.

from the corner of his optic, he watched your reactions with envy. you never reacted that way whenever he showed up to your office unprompted.

were those two cog-less bots really that important when he’s here?

however, his train of thoughts was interrupted as a shattered piece from a nearly crushed racer hit d-16 from behind, making the grey bot trip and fracture his leg. you gasped at the outcome, praying they were still close enough to make it.

orion reached for d-16, pulling him up and slinging him onto his back, slowly making his way to the finish line.

everyone was losing it, including sentinel, who was on the edge of his seat. will they make it in time?

even the announcer seemed to be overly excited!

orion quickly looked up to your radiant face, feeling another rush of energy flow through him simply by seeing your wonderstruck expression. by the allspark, you looked glorious with all the different lights shining onto your armour.

“one miner is now carrying the other, mere steps from the finish line in the most amazing, sensational, dramatic, heart-rending, exciting, thrilling finish in the history of-”

and all of a sudden, all of it was cut short as a white and cyan mech ran into the smaller bots, knocking them back down. the mech transformers and slid across the finish line, throwing her fists in the air.

“WE HAVE A WINNERRR!! CHROMIA COMES FROM BEHIND TO TAKE THE PRIZE! talk about an iacon 5000 for the ages!”

your excitement died down. sure, you were happy for chromia, she won fair and square, but,,,

you sighed as you watched every other surviving racer fly past the two miners, still trying to see the small mechs as sentinel let out a chuckle, dragging you away with him to congratulate the winner.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“mmh, they should be right here, miss.”

“thank you, mekastat.”

the pale red and pink bot nodded at you with a courteous smile, walking away from the medbay you were informed that orion and d-16 were in. you let out a long sigh, clearing your throat and before you could knock at the door, you managed to overhear the ongoing conversation.

“we are SO screwed!” you could distinguish d-16’s frustrated voice through the commotion, followed by orion’s more gentle tone:

“i thought you weren’t talking to me,,,”

“hey, look, i know it's all a big joke to you, but not me! i was paying my dues. i was going places and now they're going to bust me down- i don't even know how many tiers-”

“d, i’m sorry-”

“A-AND NOT JUST THAT! SHE SAW IT ALL HAPPEN! SHE,,, she saw everything.” she? no, that doesn’t matter. your curiosity will be your downfall.

with a quick knock, their conversation was cut short as you quietly walked in. orion immediately sat up straight, his optics wide open. a blush (that you assumed was out of embarrassment) decorated his face. d-16, however, didn’t even look you in the eye, his head hunched over in shame.

“hi.”

they waited for any form of reprimand from you, but since you simply stared back at them as to wait for them to speak, orion decided to be the first to break the ice.

“,,, i’m so sorry, (y/n), i was the one to s-suggest the idea of us participating. demote me but not d-16, i practically dragged him along into this.” d-16 turned his head just a little bit at his friend, the tension in his yellow optics leaving just a tad bit.

you thought for a while, looking away and missed the way that even in such a situation where you were supposed to, yes, reprimand them, orion looked up at you like you hung the moon and the stars combined. even in the poor lighting the room had, your armour still shined in a hypnotizing way. at least, in orion’s eyes.

“i should punish you for breaking protocol like this.”

“we know,,,” “but.” you got down on your knees, still towering over the miners, and with a small and gracious smile, you said: “i won’t. besides, even if you lost, that was still the coolest thing i’ve ever seen.”

hearing that made d-16’s helm rise back up to stare at you with a bewildered expression, matching his friend.

“really??”

you then let out a small giggle and gave them a bigger smile, which totally didn’t make the two smaller bots swoon. “it was amazing! you were both so fast, and you managed to take down darkwing?? he’s never going to hear the end of it! do you know how long he’s been training for this day and he was beaten by you two, who never trained for this type of action?!”

they’ve never seen you this excited, just the sight made up for the fact that they had lost and possibly humiliated themselves to millions of cybertronians.

“if anything, if sentinel doesn’t end up giving you guys a prize for making it this far, i’d think he’d be wasting an opportunity to celebrate true racers!”

“oh- wait! sentinel! what’s he going to do with us??” asked d-16, nearly getting up from the table, stress once more filling his processors.

your excitement died down at the mention of his name. oh, right. him.

“um, i could try to convince him to not do anything drastic! he considers me a friend of his, apparently.”

“that won’t be necessary.” another femme’s voice droned out, one that you immediately recognized.

“i’ll take it from here, (y/n). head back to your post.” airachnid ordered, stepping aside for you to leave. you turned your helm to the miners and waved goodbye, still watching them as you walked away until they were no longer in sight.

as you were about to leave the building, you bumped into darkwing, who despite not having visible facial features, you could tell with the way he was walking that he was still absolutely infuriated.

“darkwing,,,?” you asked and in response, he swiftly turned around, grabbed you by the shoulders and screamed:

“I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE A VERY BEAUTIFUL AND VALUED BOT IN MY LIFE.” and so he power walked into the hospital, leaving you utterly confused.

,,,

what.

wait why was he going in the hospital?

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

🩷send me a burger !! : ko-fi💗 🩷visit my other socials !! : socials list💗 🩷writing requests rules !! : info list💗

#orion pax x reader #d 16 x reader #sentinel prime x reader #transformers one x reader #transformers x reader #fluff #transformers one #transformers one fanfiction #optimus prime x reader #megatron x reader #writeblr #writing #writing requests open #orion pax #d 16 #darkwing #sentinel prime

132 notes · View notes

ode2rin · 2 years ago

Text

JUST MAYBE .ೃ

pairing. isagi yoichi x gn!reader

genre. strangers to .. hopefully something more? | slow burn | chance encounter

in which: a cafe encounter with a stranger shows you exactly how well fate intervenes

💭 thank you for the request anon!

this is it. this is the last straw.

this is the last time you’re ever allowing yourself to be vain and believe empty words from a man.

sitting in a café, self-pity takes hold of you as regret washes over your being. the nagging feeling, the hollowness in your gut that you should have paid attention to, now mocks you with its undeniable presence. how could you have ignored it, brushing it off as if it were insignificant?

the bustling café seemed oblivious to your disappointment, the air thick with the laughter and whispers of couples lost in their own bliss. their happiness, a stark contrast to your own melancholic state.

you glance at your phone, the screen displaying a conversation that adds salt to the wound.

you: let me know if you’re on your way! [2:06 pm] you: hey, i’m already here :) is everything fine? [2:43 pm]

a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the weight of anger and embarrassment settling upon your shoulders.

dating in your early twenties has proven to be far more challenging than you ever imagined. while your friends effortlessly navigate the labyrinth of love, you find yourself trapped in a cycle of dashed hopes and unfulfilled connections.

here you are, once again left sitting alone at a table meant for two.

and you know it's destructive to point fingers at directions pointing to you, but for goodness sake, can anyone just tell you what's wrong with you? or can fate simply provide apparent signs, allowing both you and the divine to save precious time?

because it's becoming increasingly draining.

the cycle repeats itself relentlessly: falling in love, only for it to unravel into a cacophony of screams and tears. your heart shattered, you gather the pieces and muster the courage to try again, only to wonder what awaits in the next stage of this never-ending cycle.

and you can’t help but to wonder, when will it ever be your turn? if other people could experience a love so kind, why can’t you? why can't you have what they have? what makes you any less deserving?

is it really too much to ask for a love that doesn't demand a piece of your soul as collateral? can't there exist a love where vulnerability isn't met with heartache?

and coming from someone who has been gravely hurt in the name of so-called love, it’s impossible not to wonder if such love even exists in this world or if it's merely a figment of your imagination born from those contemporary romance books you read on your lonely nights.

well, there's no use crying over spilled milk. he wasn't all that anyway. besides, you had only agreed to this supposed date due to your friend's persistent nagging, urging you to break your self-imposed “man ban” streak and venture back into the world of romance. “why not?” you had thought at the time, only to be reminded why you even imposed such a ban in the first place.

“excuse me, is this seat taken? the place is kinda packed, so if you don’t mind..”

lost in your thoughts, you're momentarily startled as a soft voice interrupts your reverie. the stranger before you stumbles over his words, shyness coloring his demeanor.

you take a moment to truly see him— this man who has unexpectedly entered your sphere. and heavens, he is gorgeous.

“no, it’s not taken. please, feel free.”

with your response, the stranger settles into the seat across from you. as he takes a sip from his cup, your nose takes a whiff of the inviting aroma of his latte, which fills the air, adding another layer of warmth to the already vibrant café atmosphere.

taking a contemplative sip of your own drink, you savor the flavors that dance on your tongue. the comforting embrace of the warm liquid spreads through your body, soothing your senses.

his blue-eyed gaze drifts toward your own drink, curiosity evident within those pools. “what drink is that? it looks intriguing.”

you can't help but internally chuckle at his attempts at small talk. your drink is nothing spectacular, let alone intriguing, but the fact that he wants to make something out of it gives you a glimpse of his endearing shyness.

still, you smile, pleased by his interest. “it's actually their signature drink. i find it quite enjoyable. and your latte? it looks divine.”

well, you’re not any better than his attempts. seriously? what looks exceptionally divine about a latte?

the man in front of you nods appreciatively, taking another sip from his cup. “nothing grand, just a decaf latte. i find it soothing and energizing, especially on slow days like this one.”

you hum in response, seemingly out of attempts for small talk. but the lack of a coherent response from you doesn’t elicit an uncomfortable silence, but rather the opposite. a cozy silence settles between you, the ambient sounds of the café serving as a gentle backdrop to your now shared sphere.

after a few minutes of sitting in silence, you notice from your peripheral vision that he steals a few glances your way, as if waiting for the right moment to strike up another conversation.

cute.

it's an understatement, as a matter of fact. the guy before you is downright mesmerizing. if you could gaze at his face for more than two seconds without being called weird, you could map the entirety of how blessed this man’s face is — the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he speaks, the subtle strength in his jawline, and the way his hair falls in a perfectly disheveled manner.

and his eyes. damn, his eyes. such a beautiful shade of blue must have taken the hand of god some time to create.

“so –”

“what –”

the two of you speak simultaneously, your voices overlapping in the air, prompting you both to take a moment and stare at each other before laughing at the coincidence.

“you first,” you offered.

“no, you go first.”

you offer a warm smile and motion for him to go first. “i insist.” the truth is, after seeing him laugh, you momentarily forgot what you were even about to ask.

it’s just a laugh. get it together.

were you this deprived of someone’s company to melt at their laugh? or is this stranger just so painfully beautiful that it’s now affecting your memory and ability to converse?

his lips curl into a shy smile as he hesitates for a brief moment. his eyes flicker with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “alright, well, i was wondering... do you come here often? i don’t think i’ve seen you here before.”

you shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “not really. i'm actually a newcomer here. i work at a bookstore nearby, and i stumbled upon this place by chance.”

it was two truths and one lie. and as apparent as it was, you sure as hell didn’t “stumbled upon this place,” where in truth and fact, you were invited here by your supposed-to-be date who might have forgotten to reply to you two hours after your last message.

“the bookstore on the main street? it’s a huge place, that’s so cool. my friend, chigiri, has been meaning to visit there. maybe i’ll try to tag along some time.”

a blush crept up your cheeks, touched by his admiration. it was a stark contrast to the belittlement toward your job you had encountered in past dating experiences, and this wasn’t even a date. “thank you. i’ll be happy to help you and your friend when you drop by.”

“so, what do you do, mr…?” you asked, trying to delve deeper into the conversation.

“oh, pardon me for not introducing myself properly. i’m isagi yoichi, and i, uhm, play soccer for a living. it's not as impressive as being surrounded by books all day, though.”

isagi yoichi. soccer player.

so that explains the hint of a lean physique beneath his clothes – not that you were checking him out. anyone with eyesight could detect that this gorgeous stranger, isagi, is in great shape. yup, definitely not checking him out.

“and yours?”

“hmm? sorry, what were you saying?”

a soft smile tugs at isagi's lips as he repeats his question, “i was just asking about your name.”

you bring your attention back to the present, realizing you've momentarily lost yourself in his gaze. “oh. it’s l/n y/n.”

as the words of your name hang in the air, a sense of familiarity begins to settle between you. you and isagi engage in a comfortable conversation, effortlessly weaving in and out of topics. each exchange reveals more about your respective lives, forging a connection that feels too genuine for people who just met not even an hour ago.

isagi shares stories from his soccer career, the highs and lows, the challenges and triumphs. his passion for the sport shines through in every word, and you find yourself captivated by how animated he is in sharing his tales. it's a pleasant break from your previous experiences, where self-importance seemed to be the common thread among your dates.

with isagi, there's no trace of conceit hanging in every word.

in turn, you open up about your love for literature and the joy you find in sharing stories with others. isagi listens attentively, his eyes sparkling with interest as you speak about the power of words and the magic that exists within the pages of books.

while it becomes evident that he may not be an avid reader himself, there's a beautiful acceptance and respect in the way isagi listens. he never once made you feel as though your love for literature is any less significant than his passion for soccer.

amidst the lively exchange, you catch glimpses of isagi's gentle nature, his ability to make you feel at ease, and his genuine curiosity about your thoughts and experiences. it's a refreshing change from the superficial interactions you've had in the past, and you're left wondering if the man in front of you is even real.

you can't help but laugh at the thought of men being able to hold a conversation like isagi. and while that proves that the bar may be in hell, but damn, it is as if isagi raised it above his own head.

time seems to slip away as the conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and genuine moments of connection. there are no awkward silences, no need for pretense or guardedness. it's as if you've known each other for much longer than a chance encounter in a café.

just when you think the moment might stretch into eternity, isagi’s ringing phone slices through the air, abruptly breaking the spell.

his eyes widen, a touch of regret flickering across his face as he retrieves his phone from his pocket. “ah, it's my teammate. i'm afraid i have to head out first,” he says with a tinge of disappointment.

your heart sinks a little at the prospect of parting ways so soon. “oh, it's okay. i had a nice time, isagi,” you reply, attempting to mask your disappointment.

“me too,” isagi responds, his voice filled with a hint of tone you’re feigning ignorance too. “i wish we could talk more.”

you can sense the hesitance in his words, the unspoken desire to extend the encounter. it's an opening, a moment of curiosity lingering between you. seizing the opportunity, you decide to tease him ever so slightly. “hmm, well, that call seemed important,” you remark, raising an eyebrow playfully.

you’re not dense, but you were curious to see how he would try.

isagi fidgets, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, i think so. we have an upcoming match next weekend,” he stumbles over his words, clearly struggling with the invitation he's about to extend. “speaking of the match, would it be too forward of me to invite you to watch?”

wouldn’t it?

your heart flutters at the invitation, and for a brief moment, you contemplate the possibilities.

this day had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions. one moment, you were nursing the wounds of being stood up, wallowing in self-pity and contemplating the challenges of dating. and now, here you were, being invited by a complete stranger — a stranger who also happened to be the most captivating person you've ever laid eyes upon.

fate be damned, because it seems to have a wicked sense of humor, toying with your emotions from one extreme to another.

glancing down at your cup, you swirl the remaining liquid, feigning nonchalance to mask the racing thoughts in your mind. “depends on who you want me to attend as,” you tease, curious to see how he responds.

you raise your eyes, locking eyes with isagi, only to find him wearing a boyish grin that could rival the sun and staring at you with those damn blue eyes that put the oceans to shame.

“anything you can offer to be, right now.”

fuck it.

with a surge of boldness, you decide to take a leap of faith. “then i would love to be there.”

the energy shifts as isagi beams at your acceptance of his invitation. he bids you goodbye, only to hesitate and return to you with an endearing awkwardness. he offers his number, tripping over his own words as he suggests you can call him whenever you want. you can't help but laugh at his adorable awkwardness, finding it endearing beyond measure. you hand him your phone, and with hurried movements, he inputs his number before bidding you goodbye once more.

with a smile lingering on your lips, you watch isagi's retreating figure, feeling a warmth radiate through you. your gaze then shifts to the phone in your hand, where you see the contact name you've set for him.

maybe: isagi yoichi

why not, right? you're down to take the chance.

because maybe, just maybe, one more try wouldn’t hurt this time.

note. welcome to isagi mimi debut omg i kinda do not like it but huhu this trope is so hard for me to write, i’m not gonna lie. but i surprisingly had fun making this hehe. and i’m not really a fan of instant love soooo, here’s the best i could do ._. i think i would rather opt to make a sequel than a time skip so let’s leave it at that :>

thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

#☁️ my ode to you #first milestone event!#writing: 002 #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi yoichi fluff #isagi yoichi x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff

391 notes · View notes

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 year ago

Text

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone (Part 1)

Pairing: Jim Hopper x fem!reader, Hopper POV

Summary: Reader is a secretary at the Hawkin's Sheriff's Department and Jim Hopper drives her to and from work everyday. Hopper gets worried when reader does not come out of her home, and when he finds out she is sick, he decides to take care of her. Set before the events of Season One of Stranger Things

Tropes: Jim Hopper x sick reader, mutual pining, angst, fluff, grump x sunshine, age gap (reader is fresh out of college).

Warnings: No Smut, mostly fluff, self-deprecating talk, indecisiveness, maybe some occasional cursing, Hopper is a little OOC, maybe one or two references to sex, but not explicit and only if you squint.

Word Count: 4.8k (I'm so sorry- but not really because it's great)

There is a minimal use of (y/n). Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you."

Internal monologue is in italics.

Honestly this is my first fanfiction ever, it's kinda self-indulgent, I tried to proofread the best I could, but please BE GENTLE. If you don't like, don't read, if you do like it, you're my favorite.

ENJOY!

Main Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

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

Hopper's truck idles in your driveway behind the ancient sea-foam green station wagon, and has been idling for the past 10 minutes. He is starting to get worried. You always come out to his car immediately when he pulls in the driveway. Probably, he suspects, because you don’t want to keep him waiting, but what you don’t know is that he would be willing to wait forever just to see you.

Hopper taps his fingers on the steering wheel while inhaling smoke from the cigarette perched between his lips as worry pricks at his chest.

Where is she? Hopper thinks to himself.

His eyes skate over the windows and peeling white sills of the modest home looking for signs of forced entry, but the house looks relatively quiet. He can’t decide if that is worse.

All of a sudden a frizzy haired, freckled girl wearing a nurse's uniform comes tearing out of the house with a large colorful bag thrown over her shoulder. She rips open the door of the station wagon in the driveway, but then raises her gaze to glare at Hopper's car, before running to his driver’s side window.

"Hi can you possibly move out of the driveway. I'm so late for my shift-" She declares out of breath while glancing down once at the plain watch on her wrist.

Hopper studies her for a minute things not quite connecting. Marcie. He decides. You had mentioned your roommate in passing, but this was the first time that he had officially spoken to her or seen her.

"Um- sure. I'm just waiting for y/n-"

"She's not going to work today, she's got a cold." The girl waves her hand dismissively. "Sorry you must be Hopper. I'm Marcie and I'm so late, please." Marcie's eyes widen with her plea.

"Yeah sure." Hopper puts his car in reverse to clear the driveway allowing Marcie to squeal past him. Hopper momentarily smiles at her bravery for whipping out of the driveway so quickly when the chief of police is directly behind her, but then his thoughts turn back to you.

He idles in the street for a second, contemplating the situation.

I should just go to work, I should just drive away and sit at my desk and shuffle papers around- He thinks, but then he reconsiders. What if y/n needs something? Her roommate just left her there, I'm not even sure she locked the door. He raises his gaze once more to skate over the empty windows as if hoping that you will appear.

But when you don’t Hopper sighs in defeat, pulls into the driveway, and turns off the engine. He pauses again with his hand on the key where it still sits in the ignition. His thumb taps anxiously against the wheel.

You're not her boyfriend, you're her boss. Hopper takes in a lungful of smoke, watching the house once more. But a boss can check on his employees, maybe she hadn't been able to call Flo to tell her she wasn't going to be at work so I should just check in on her, because I’m really helping Flo. Hopper reasons.

He gets out of the car, before pausing with his hand on the door. What are you doing? This is definitely overstepping. The intrusive thoughts are back to prick behind his furrowed eyebrows.

The truth was he has tried to keep his distance, but now he has begun to realize how much he relies on driving you to work everyday. How much he relies on those few moments in the car before he is twisted and pulled away to his office. But then you would be there after, waiting at your desk for him to drive you home. And the look on your face every time was enough to erase the tedium of the day.

Jim eyes the front door to check if you are coming out once more.

He always felt better when you’d practically skip out of front door wearing those cute oversized sweaters and long skirts, with your hair billowing behind you in perfect curls. You would always smile at him as you walked to the car, before shyly ducking your head with flushed cheeks. And then after the shift, he always made sure that he didn't stay too late because staying late meant that you would have to wait for him. And because you were too embarrassed and polite to tell him that you were ready to leave, you would read at your desk quietly.

As cute as you looked leaning back in your desk chair utterly consumed with whatever the novel of the day is, because Hopper noticed you must be the fastest reader in the world given how many different books he'd seen you with, Hopper hated those days. Hopper hated those days because Callahan would loiter by your desk after his shift and make you laugh so loudly that it made the symphony of your voice drift into Hopper's office, quickly turning something that made his own heart jump and buckle in his chest into a consuming fire.

His hand tightens on the door frame of the car.

He hated watching Callahan ease over to your desk so carefree at the end of the night, taking the time to talk to you, flirt with you even. Callahan who didn’t have to worry about the age difference or what everyone would say if he went out with you or spent the night with you. Callahan who was younger and carefree, maybe even a perfect match to your sunshine. Jealousy burned through his entire body when he thought of Callahan taking you out to dinner, having his hand in yours as you walk to the movies, sitting side by side in a booth at a restaurant, and even after the date when Callahan would walk you to your door and you would invite him in. His jaw clenches at the thought of you with Callahan alone in your house, your room, your bed-

He thinks about getting back in the car again, turning away, and leaving.

Hopper knew that it wasn't fair. He shouldn't feel jealous, shouldn't feel the need to control your life, because it was your life, and he didn't want to ruin it. He didn't want to intrude. You were so young, so full of life, innocent, that he knew he would ruin you in the worst way. He was just an old grump, so far from your sunshine he might as well be hibernating in a cave.

But oh how he wished he could. Oh how he wished he could bask in your sunshine all the time, letting the soothing rays from your smile fill him with peace.

Hopper lay awake at night thinking of you, wishing that you had met when he was a little younger, a little less- well- Hopper. He dreamed of what it would be like to tell you and have you return the sentiment with one of those smiles that sometimes he imagined were only for him.

Hopper looked back up at the house. The thought that you were alone inside and sick, made him close the door of his car, flick away the cigarette, and tramp through the overgrown lawn. Hopper made a mental note to ask you why it wasn't cut and then tossed it away.

Boundaries mean that I’m not going to come mow her lawn one day.

He knocks once. "(y/n)?" He calls, but hears nothing. "(y/n)?" He says a little louder, knocking a few more times.

Hopper was hesitant to shout. What if you had a headache?

His hand closes on the handle and turns, it is open. He sighs in exasperation. What was Marcie thinking leaving it unlocked? Doesn’t she watch the news? There could be any number of psychos lying in wait, watching the house! Then before he can stop himself he thinks: Yeah. Like you.

The inside of the home is tidy, but lived in. The living room has a collection of threadbare chairs and a patchy colored fabric couch covered in what looked like a handmade blanket. Hopper wonders if you made it, remembering last Christmas when you made a hand-crocheted tote bag for Flo. Because that’s the kind of person you were. You gave so much of yourself out to other people, cared for them, and he believed that he was so different from you.

There’s a coffee table with several rings in front of the couch where he places his hat, tracing the circles on the wood with a fingertip.

The smell of coffee pours from the kitchen and splashes against Hopper’s nose, but he continues down the darkened hallway that leads deeper into your home.

"(Y/n)?" He says again, louder, but there is no answer. "(Y/n)?"

The last thing he wants to do is stumble into your room while you are changing and scare you to death. The thought of seeing you naked causes a pink hue to travel into his cheeks.

A low groan sounds from the hall bathroom and makes Hopper’s chest clench in worry. "(Y/n)?" He turns towards the bathroom. The lights are off inside and the door is just barely cracked. Hopper pushes open the door and flips on the switch to the right against the white tile wall.

At first he's confused, because the low groan sounds again, and then he looks down.

You’re laying under a thick blanket, curled into a small ball, halfway between the toilet and the bathtub. Your cheeks are flushed with fever, eyes closed, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"(Y/n)!" Hopper gasps dropping to his knees. "(Y/n) are you okay?" Worry tightens its cold grip around his throat.

How could your roommate leave you like this?

"Hop?" You breathe, opening up one red eye. "Hey." Your voice is no more than a raspy croak. "What are you doing here?” Each word sounds like its too much effort to finish. In fact you close your eye and shy away from the bright bathroom light that Hopper flipped on when he entered the room.

“I came to pick you up. Marcie said you had a cold.” His eyes skate over you. “The door was unlocked.” Hopper felt the need to add that last part, trying to find rationalization for why he’s here instead of telling you that he came in because he was scared.

“Sorry. She called the office-“ You begin to cough violently into the blanket, curling further into a ball.

"Shh it's okay." His hand comes down to your hair, pushing it back from where it sticks to your skin. "Are you alright?" Your forehead burns against his hand.

"Not really." You croak. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep here, but it was easier than going back and forth."

"It's alright." Hopper gently places his arms under your knees, sweeping you up against his chest in one quick move.

You sigh and turn your head into him, while your hand grips the front of his jacket that is still chilled from the wind outside with a shiver. The cold is welcome against your feverishly hot skin.

You cuddle into his jacket away from the offensive light above, making warmth radiate through Hopper's body.

"Which room?" He asks.

"Across the hall." You mutter into his shirt with another sigh.

Hopper hopes that you can't feel his heart stuttering around in his chest like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup. He's trying not to think about how natural this feels, how wonderful it feels to hold you close and have you curled up against him. He rationalizes that your fever is probably so high that you don't realize what you’re doing, that any other time you wouldn’t dare burrow into him like this. But he can't help but imagine what it would be like for you to want him to hold you like this.

Your room is tidy, but still a little messy. Hopper smiles at the cluttered desk and stacks of paperbacks, memorizing the titles and making mental notes of those that are more worn than others, promising himself that he'll read every one if they are your favorite.

He is always on the lookout for ways to start conversations with you and Hopper figures that the war themed paperbacks he has back at home are a bit out of your comfort zone given the titles of the books on the desk.

Hopper places you down on the bed, quickly pulling the covers over you. He tries not to notice what you was wearing before, he had only ever seen you in long skirts or long pairs of pants, but now you were only wearing an oversized t-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh and a pair of bright blue underwear. He ignores it, feeling the warmth of you skin beneath his palm.

"What can I do?" Hopper kneels next to the bed so you doesn’t have to look up at him.

"I'm okay, just sleepy." You whisper, cuddling into the patchwork quilt with another uncontrollable shiver.

"Okay." He brushes your hair back again before he can stop himself, enchanted by the way it feels against his hand. "I'll be right back okay?" Hopper breathes.

"Please don’t go.” You mutter moving into his touch, turning your entire body towards where he hovers just on the edge of your bed.

Hopper freezes. She didn’t mean that, she’s just sick, doesn’t know what she’s saying. He rationalizes eyes skating your figure again. He’s never seen you look so small.

When you were well, sometimes Hopper believed that you were the embodiment of the sun on earth, filled with light and warmth. Noting that your bright personality just exploded out of you constantly, but now seeing you so dim… it scares him.

“I promise I’ll be right back.” Hopper says again.

“Hmm.” You whisper as you begin to succumb to the exhaustion of the fever.

He backs out of the room, watching your sleeping figure one more time before he springs into action. Hopper walks to the bright yellow phone hanging in the wall in the kitchen and dials the station.

"Hey Flo it's the chief, how are things this morning?" He breezes looking through the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator. Hopper frowns at the dismal array of canned vegetables and moldy fruit in the ice box, but pours himself a cup of coffee.

"Hey chief. Pretty slow. Callahan went out on a call to get Mrs. Morris' cat out of a tree, but other than that it's been quiet. I meant to tell you that (y/n's) roommate called and said that (y/n) won't be in because she's not feeling too well this morning. Tried to call you before you left, but I figured I'd see you when you got in." Flo pauses. "Where are you anyway?"

"Um- something came up. Look I might not be in for a few hours. Do you think you can manage to keep things quiet?" He shifts uncomfortably. Hopper wasn't keen on everyone knowing that he was with you.

What would they say if he was here? He was aware of what the rest of the people in town said about him, but he didn't want them to say things like that about you. You deserved better.

"Sure chief."

"Alright thanks. I'll see you in a bit." He hangs up the phone standing in the kitchen for a minute while he finishes the coffee in the faded green mug. Hopper considers what he has to do, but he doesn't like it. The thought of leaving you again makes his heart twist in his chest, especially knowing how sick you are.

Not sick enough to stop smiling at him. The thought is welcome amongst the continuous admonishing from the guilt of him being there.

Hopper walks back towards your room peering in through the open door to check over your sleeping figure. Deep down he knows that he shouldn't be here, that he should just leave, but he can't. He can’t leave you when you can barely lift your head to look at him.

The phone rings on your nightstand, and as you stir, Hopper reaches for the receiver to stop the call and breaks his only rule.

"Hello?"

"Um. Hi. Who is this?" The voice on the other line is definitely a woman, decidedly older.

"Jim Hopper. Who is this?"

"This is (y/n’s) mother.”

Oh shit.

"Um hi Mrs. (y/l/n)-" Hopper's eyes go to yours which have widened in surprise.

But before he can respond any further you reach out and take the phone from Hopper’s hand.

“Hi mom." You croak. "Can I call you back?"

Hopper watches you with wide eyes as you wait a second to listen to your mother. He can only imagine what she's asking you.

"No mom, he's not my boyfriend he's my boss." Your voice rasps. Hopper's heart stutters once in his chest when you answer her.

"He's here to check on me." You try to raise your voice again, but it comes out more like a harsh whisper.

You pause.

"No I'm not sleeping with my boss mom." Your face flushes as bright red as Hopper's does. He immediately stands from the bed, realizing that he was sitting on the edge and was about to touch you again subconsciously.

"Please can I call you back. I'm really not feeling well." You sigh laying back down as if sitting up is too much work.

Hopper's brows furrow with worry once more, wishing that he hadn't answered the phone. Because even if he was ever going to date you, which he wasn't, he didn't want your mother to hate him.

"Yes I'll make the soup. I love you. Okay. Bye." You hold out the phone trying to place it on the receiver, but Hopper takes it from you. "I'm sorry." You mutter laying back down in the bed with a sigh.

"It's okay." Hopper's still bright red. "I understand."

You sigh. "She's been so worried since I moved away." You turn to cough into the blanket.

"Try not to talk." Hopper smiles. "You know, I think you talk more when you're sick."

You wheeze out a laugh. "Shut up."

"And you're definitely meaner."

You snort so hard that you begin to cough and Hopper feels bad for making you laugh, but when it's over you smile so wide at him any regret vanishes. That was why he liked you so much, because every time you smiled at him, you filled him with the warmth and brightness that you shone with every day.

He presses the back of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature. "Are you going to be okay if I leave for a bit?"

"Yeah." Your eyes are closed now, leaning into his hand. Hopper ignores how you lean into him and again tells himself it is only due to your current state.

"I promise I'll be right back."

"You don't have to-" You breathe in a low rasp.

"I'm not going to leave you like this alone." Hopper responds. "I'm just gonna run to the store-"

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." Hopper clears his throat. "Try not to die."

"I'll try my best."

*********************************************************Hopper can remember the last time he made chicken noodle soup clearly. Sara had a cold, it was before she was diagnosed and was starting to get sick more frequently. Hopper had stayed home from work with her while Diane went out and he made the chicken noodle soup recipe his grandmother had used to make him when he was sick.

As he stirs the pot on the stove the smell brings back all the memories that usually make his heart clench in his chest, but now standing here in your small kitchen, the memories are softer.

The trip to the grocery store had been quick as he practically ran up and down the aisles strategically to find everything he needed, anxious to get back to you. Hopper had stolen the house keys out of you purse to make sure that he could lock the door, rationalizing that you wouldn't need them and he'd be damned if he left the door unlocked with you being as defenseless as you were right now.

Hopper walks back towards your room. You are curled up in a ball under the covers again, looking more small and cute that he wants to acknowledge. "(y/n)." He whispers.

"Hmm." You sigh and turn to look at him. Your cheeks aren't as flushed as before, which means the Advil Hopper made you take must have brought down your fever.

"I made you some soup. I think you should eat something." He says gently.

The smile you give him, warms his heart and makes the cold muscle in his chest flutter and stutter.

"You didn't have to." You croak.

"I wanted to." He shifts his feet unsure. "Do you need help- or- um?" It wasn't that he didn't want to carry you, the memory of how it felt to carry you was fresh in his mind. It was that he wanted to make sure that it was okay for him to touch you again

"Please." Your cheeks flush all over again as he picks you up and carries you out to the kitchen table, sitting you up in a chair before draping the homemade blanket around your shoulders to cover your shivering body.

He quickly moves to the stove dipping out a portion of soup into one of the flowery bowls from the cabinet before placing it in front of you.

You smile into the steam, letting the heat open up your lungs. "Thank you."

Hopper sits across from you at the kitchen table watching you eat it slowly, another mug full of coffee sitting in front of him on one of the cheerful flower printed placemats. He still can't bring himself to leave because he's worried about what would happen if he left. You could barely walk to the bathroom without help- maybe you might even need to go to the hospital.

The thought of taking you to the hospital filled him with dread, a whole slew of memories there that he didn't want to relive.

"This is really good." You smile at him from across the table. Your voice is less hoarse than it was a few moments ago, but still barely audible. "You didn't have to make soup. I could have ordered some from Sullivan's on the corner." You cough violently into a napkin before blowing your nose again.

"It's okay. I just wanted to make sure that you were-" He stops unsure if he should continue. "Well if you were okay."

"Oh. Well it's very nice of you. I'm sorry that Marcie didn't call."

"I'm not." Hopper responds before he can stop himself. "I'm glad that I came by." His cheeks flush with his confession.

"I am too." Your cheeks are as red as his before you duck down to look back at your soup. "Though I don't want you to get sick too."

Hopper shrugs. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

He watches you finish up the rest of the soup. She's beautiful even when she's like this. Hopper looks at your face, noting you red cheeks and nose. Even covered in snot and flushed with fever, she's absolutely beautiful.

"Did you want to go back to bed?" Hopper asks when you take the last bite of chicken noodle soup.

"No I think I'll lay on the couch for a bit-"

He immediately moves to pick you up from the wooden chair and helps you over to the threadbare couch, laying the blanket over you before he can focus too much on your uncovered legs. "Thank you."

"Yeah-" His voice has deepened a bit, trying not to dwell on how wonderful it felt to have you in his arms again.

"There should be some tapes in those cabinets.” You gesture to the cabinets under the tv in the corner. “Did you want to stay and watch a movie?” You immediately freeze. You hadn’t meant to ask it, but here he was taking care of you making sure you were okay. You didn’t want him to go, despite his constant internal monologue convincing him otherwise. “Or if you have to go back to work that’s fine.” You back track.

“Um- well.” Hopper considers leaving again. He thinks that he’s overstated his welcome, knows that he is doing more than he should especially more than a boss would do for his employee. His eyes skate over your small figure curled up under the blanket. “I don’t think it would hurt to watch a movie. I think that Flo can manage the department for a few hours without me.”

You try to hide your excitement as he picks out one of the tapes and pops it into the VCR.

Now came the ultimate question: where should he sit? Regularly when Hopper was trying to woo someone he would sit next to them, throw his arm across their shoulders so they would lean into him- but he didn’t want to do that to you… well, he knew he SHOULDN’T want to do that to you. So he forced himself into the lazy boy arm chair that sat about 7 inches from where you were laying your head on the couch as the movie began. You bunch up one of the couch cushions under you head, trying to prop yourself up as the movie began. Hopper reached over before he could stop himself and helped you adjust the pillow.

Your eyes meet his as a small smile graces your lips. He holds your gaze, trying to gauge how you feel about him- tries to read your mind to see if you wish that he'd just leave, that this is weird and he needs to go.

But there's nothing. He forces himself to look away from your gaze and back towards the tv trying to stop the warm feeling that rises in his chest.

Don't do this to yourself. She's just being nice because you made her soup, asking you to stay means nothing.

Within a few moments you were asleep again and that meant that Hopper didn’t have to feel bad about glancing over at you occasionally. His fingertips itch to push back the hair that's fallen into your face, but instead he puts them on the arms of the chair, relaxing back.

And within moments, Hopper falls asleep.

He wakes up when Marcie kicks open the front door at 8 pm after her shift, practically falling into the living room in her haste. Hopper jumps up from the chair startled.

"Oh hi." Marcie does a double take. "I didn't know you were going to stay here."

"No I wasn't-" Hopper clears his throat awkwardly. "I just-"

"He came to check on me Mar." You croak sitting up. "It's okay."

"Oh well." Marcie eyes him up and down. "I'm just gonna take a shower." Marcie continues to frown. "And I keep my pepper spray in there-"

"Marcie!" You exclaim as loud as you can without hurting your voice, but she doesn't look sorry.

Hopper nods awkwardly as she saunters from the room, his cheeks flushing bright red. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the rhythmic sound of your breathing had lulled him into a deeper sleep than he was accustomed to. In fact he couldn't remember a time recently in which he had slept so soundly.

"Well I guess I should go." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I'm sorry she's just always in a hurry and she doesn't have a filter." You sigh, hearing the shower begin to run. "It takes a bit to get used to her."

Hopper notices that your voice sounds less hoarse than it did when you fell asleep.

"It's okay." He waits another beat, because despite Marcie's sudden intrusion, he wishes that he could stay- but he knows better. "I'll give you a call tomorrow, see if you need a ride to work."

"Yeah I hope I'll feel a bit better." You begin to rise from the couch, but stumble forward and Hopper catches you against his chest in an awkward hug.

"You've got to be more careful." He breathes into the top of your head, holding you tightly against him.

"Hmm." You sigh, holding on to him just as tight. "Thank you Jim."

Hopper freezes. It's the first time you've ever said his first name, and it makes something inside his chest break open. It sounds so perfect coming from your lips that he wishes you would say it again. "You're welcome (y/n)."

Your arms are wrapped around him in a full hug by now, nuzzling your face into his chest- but just like that Hopper snaps out of it.

She doesn't want you, she's just being friendly, like (y/n) is all the time. Plus she's sick today, not thinking straight. The thought makes him sober up.

Hopper extricates your arms from around him rather abruptly, leaving your head reeling, and helps you back onto the couch. "Well goodnight."

"Goodnight." You smile, but it's tight lipped and for good reason. You have no idea what you did to make him suddenly so cold.

And the entire ride home from y/n's house, Hopper refuses to believe you were disappointed when he left.

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

Thank you so much for reading!

Part 2

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper #jim hopper fluff #chief hopper x reader #sunshine x grumpy #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #jim hopper x fem!reader #stranger things

106 notes · View notes

mrs-gucci · 1 year ago

Text

What Happens at the Cabin...

{ werewolf!flip zimmerman x female reader }

anon(s)

Werewolf Flip keeping you locked away in his cabin for when the full Moon hits please 💛

Werewolf Flip in the middle of a serious rut and just needing to use you like rag doll Please and thank you 🐺

just a quick disclaimer, sorry if this sucks lol, I'm writing this half asleep at 11:45 pm and I'm only doing quick proofreading as I go along.

warnings. SMUT (18+), werewolf rut, objectification (treated like a sex doll), dirty talk, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of breath play, creampie, minimal/no aftercare.

word count: 790

🐺 written for werewolf wednesday 🐺

Flip's ruts are always pretty intense, matching his human personality quite well. He's impulsive, passionate, a bit temperamental, but most of all, horny. Oh so horny.

Rays of moonlight shine through the thin curtains hanging in the cabin's master bedroom as Flip's wolf form stands over you, casting a shadow on your bare, bound form. You look into deeply his amber eyes, watching them darken with lust the more they roam your nude form.

It's quite a sight, you're sure, seeing your wrists and ankles each tied to one post of the old metal bed frame, spread out just for his pleasure.

You watch as his length fills out and hardens, the sight making your thighs want to rub together, but alas, they're bound apart. Flip looks down and sees that you're beginning to glisten and your pussy is clenching ever so slightly. The sight alone turns him on even more.

He growls lowly and quickly pounces, getting on top of you and beginning to lick at your neck, hips rolling forward instinctively in order to rub his hard, leaking cock against your abdomen.

"Do you feel what you acting like a little slut does to me?"

You smirk. "What do you mean?"

Flip huffs, nipping gently at your throat.

"You know exactly what you did, wearing your low cut sweater dress at the station on the day of a full moon."

Your smirk widens slightly.

"Maybe I...wanted this to happen."

"Mm, I'm sure you did."

He chuckles breathily, then forces your legs apart a little more, cock nudging against your entrance. You open your mouth to say something but he thrusts in suddenly, abruptly finishing your sentence before it even begins.

"Ohh fuck."

Flip looks down at you. A shiver runs down your spine at his sudden tone of seriousness.

"You will lay perfectly still while I do what I want to you at my discretion. And you'll be nice and quiet as I do so." He thrusts abruptly, harshly. "Y-You'll be my perfect little doll, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Your mouth falls open and a soft, pathetic-sounding whimper slips from your lips. You somehow manage to nod and he begins fucking you at a quick pace.

His eyes remain on you, watching closely for any slip-ups. You try your best to stay still, you really do, but the more he fucks you, the more your body begins to jerk and squirm with arousal.

Suddenly, one of his paws wraps around your neck and presses down gently, impairing your breathing only slightly, but enough to choke you up for a few moments.

"Quiet," he snarls. "Dolls are m-meant to take cock, not to be heard."

Your eyes roll back in your head, pussy clenching around him. Everything is happening all at once and it's all bringing you to levels of arousal you've never known were possible. Your body tenses and you focus on staying still, wanting to give your beloved a pleasurable experience.

He presses a bit harder on your neck, long enough to make you squirm again, before pulling away completely. You inhale deeply and he grunts softly in satisfaction, then drags his sharp claw gently, slowly down your neck, across your collarbones, tracing the swells of your large breasts to tease your senses.

Then, he suddenly yanks your shirt down and tears your bra, exposing your bare breasts to the cool Colorado night air. His textured tongue begins to lap at your hardened nipples, enjoying how it makes you whimper and whine beneath him

Soon enough, your attempts at staying still and quiet are thrown out the window, and you let out a long moan.

"Christ, Flip..."

He growls, fucking you harder, enjoying the sight of you breaking character and the feeling of your insides tightening around his thick cock.

"Good girl, tighten for me," he grunts. "Make me fill you up."

His words propel you into a sudden, powerful orgasm, and you cry out in pleasure as it washes over in intense waves. Seeing and feeling your orgasm is enough to send Flip hurdling over the edge as well, his bellowing growls and grunts echoing through the small room.

You sigh, biting your lip while Flip continues to jerk his hips, fulfilling his most primal desire to breed you. He gives your breasts a few more licks before moving back up to your neck.

Once he's settled and his orgasm has faded, Flip looks down at you, his eyes returning to their usual beautiful amber color. You smile, knowing that your Flip has returned to you, at least for now.

Your hand smooths across where his cheeks would be. He leans into your touch.

"Better?"

He nods, nuzzling you with his wet nose.

"Much. Thank you."

****

the fic-or-treat taglist is currently empty!

>> to join the fic-or-treat taglist, you have to send a message to my inbox!! your username must be included in some form. I will not accept tag requests that don't come through my inbox. <<

#adam driver #adcu #adam driver character #adcu fanfiction #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver smut #werewolf au #werewolf #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #adam driver x reader #adam driver x you #adcu smut

59 notes · View notes

yes-i-am-a-tree · 2 years ago

Text

"I thought I was gonna die. " (Platonic!Kenny Ackerman x reader)

Summary: You were to play a part in a plan Kenny and Levi created to break you out of captivity and get away safely. The ironic thing is, you had no idea such a plan existed, so you take your own route, throwing both Kenny and Levi for a loop. Regardless, you prove to them that you can fend for yourself. You also prove that you're a terrible horse rider.

Genre: Angst but gets wholesome at the end. Happy ending.

Also, Platonic Levi x reader but to a minimal amount.

Warnings: bodily injuries, mentions of execution and murder, Kenny being a disappointed father :')

Somewhat proofread 😅 more notes at the bottom 👍

Set in a Western AU!

High noon. Exactly 12 clock was the time your execution was scheduled.

You were framed. Though they had only gotten one thing right out of their accusations against you.

You were Kenny's apprentice. You were 100% along with him every step of the way. Listening to his every order, and obeying his every command. You owed it to him. You can't even count on both hands how many times he's saved your life.

But they were wrong with everything else. The MP claimed you tried to assassinate the king. The Lord of all three walls. It's a wonder everyone believed them because you weren't big or powerful like Levi or Kenny. But they accused you anyway because they knew you were directly associated with Kenny the Ripper.

But apparently, that was in the past because they welcomed him with open arms and left you in the dust.

So you sat and waited. You tried desperately not to think about your doom but it was always on your mind. It ate away at you during the night and it loomed over during the day.

And soon. It was the morning of the last day you'll ever see the sun again. The last day you'll enjoy (not that there was much too in this cramped musty cell)

You tried to savor your last hour before one of the palace guards knocked on the heavy metal bars of your enclosure. It was time to go.

Once you were forced into the palace square it was almost like an open cathedral.

There were crowds among crowds of people. All watching with their beady greedy eyes.

Surprisingly to you though, and you were handcuffed to a pole, no executioner stood nearby. In fact, you found it weird you were chained to a pole in the first place.

You sat in the brutal sun before the crowd grew silent. The king had arrived to watch.

You looked up at him and scowled. He of all people shod know you were not guilty. It was those fucking snobbish Military Police.

Then, a familiar clop of footsteps sounded behind you. 'Of course, he's here, he's basically the head of the MPs at this point.

He then walked his brown leather boots directly in front of your line of sight. You frowned. 2 weeks ago, you would've been overjoyed to see those boots. But now, you just felt betrayed.

On multiple occasions, you hoped and even prayed that he would come and save you. I mean, hell, you had been with him for over a year, did he not care? You gave up that hope a long time ago when you were being transported to the castle prison and you saw his face in the mass of people. You saw him look away. You saw him turn his back on you.

And now he was here to mock you.

Suddenly he squatted and grabbed your face, forcing you to look up at him. Kenny's signature smirk was condescending.

"Don't you know how to show your owner some respect?"

You could hear a couple of guards snicker. You grimaced.

He seemed to grin wider at your reaction.

"What, you don't wanna talk to me? " Kenny asked teasingly.

You just glared. You regretted the last year of your life. Everything just went wrong from there. And now, you were about to die. Alone. Disrespected. And innocent.

Then, He slapped you across the face. Albeit, it was softer than any of the beats he had given you before, nonetheless, it still hurt like hell. You bit back a couple of cuss words.

You truly hated him.

"Sorry sweetheart, I have to teach you a lesson for trying to touch the King"

As he said this he stroked your face where he slapped you like he was trying to soothe you. That just added fuel to the growing fire of hatred inside. You closed your eyes to conceal your tears. He was the last person you wanted to cry in front of.

If only you had kept them open because it was obvious, while you were up that close, that he regretted hitting you. He hated doing it every time. But now was not the moment to feel sympathy.

He took ahold of your dirty hair and slammed your head against the pole behind you. It was like a shock, the vibrations rolling through your skull and the pain and ache that continued endlessly.

You couldn't help the sound of your pain that left your mouth.

Kenny kept his facade. "Don't act so fearless now, you know what's in store for you."

He back-talked you for about 5 more minutes and gave you a couple more mild hits before a loud noise erupted from the large front doors of the cathedral. A gunshot.

Suddenly there was screaming from the outside. Everyone spectating turned their attention to the doors of the cathedral.

And without warning the doors busted open. And out through the doors came someone on horseback. He had a dark hood on and you couldn't make out any of his features.

It was like a dream like some unexplainable thing just occurred. What in the world was happening? Why would anyone want to interrupt your execution?

Before you could think about the rapidly approaching horseman any further you heard the double doors behind you open as well.

You strained your neck to see. The king's guards came pouring out of them, one after the other. All suited up in armor and all horseback.

But to your astonishment, the hooded horse rider fearlessly steered in the other direction towards them.

You tried to watch their scrimmage but you felt Kenny suddenly grab your face.

"Listen to me, I'm gonna untie you and you're gonna follow after me. Got it? "

Without thinking you nodded immediately. So he quickly got to work on your bindings.

But as he hastily cut the rope off, a fleeting thought took a hold of you.

Did you want to be saved by Kenny? The man who betrayed you? Part of you would instead still be executed than go with him. You didn't want to go back to being his little obedient assistant. You could live on your own right?

Then Kenny leaned back up, finished with your rope, and instead of paying attention

to what he was saying, you noticed a stray horse galloping behind him and suddenly, it became a lot more interesting than whatever he was ordering you to do. 'I can get out myself' you thought. 'I don't need his help anymore, he was going to let me die anyway.’

As you pulled your arms off just to make sure, you put your plan into action. You quickly threw your head back, and headbutted Kenny as hard as you could.

In reality, it wasn't too hard, but the surprise most definitely made up for it. Kenny sat utterly dumbfounded for a second as you took off in the direction you last saw the horse.

"Y/N! " you heard him roar.

A part of you wanted to stop and curl up in fear but the majority of you sped up.

This was unreal, unheard of. The minute you reached the light brown horse you took a hold of her reigns and wasted no time mounting her.

She hiccupped in her movements and made a move to shake you off but obeyed when you yanked suddenly on the reigns.

The whole time this occurred you heard Kenney's yells.

In your mind, you found it funny. It was about time he stopped treating you like some dog.

You sped around the cathedral before racing towards the exit.

The crowd was loud, the guards were loud and the noise drowned out as you steamrolled your way through. You didn't even look back.

The way forward was not clear. After the double door was passed through, the people in the streets screamed in fear for the stallion bounding in their direction.

The wind zipped past your hair, and for once in your life, you felt on top of the world. You were unbeatable, untouchable, immortal.

You zoomed past shops and police, they were too stunned to stop you. You heard a faint cackling and realized it was coming from you. For some time, you felt like you could feel this way forever, free, happy... Like it could never end.

In your haste and carelessness, you failed to notice the cart in front of you until it was too late.

In your spilt second to reflexes, you steered the horse in an extremely harsh right, and it worked for a moment until you realized you were going to crash headfirst into a tree.

You yanked on the reigns once again, but the inertia flung you out of the saddle and out over the horse.

Unfortunately for you, out past the tree you were trying to avoid, laid out a deep River bank. What was supposed to be a short fall off your horse for a moment, ended up being a 4-second tumble down the rocky side of a river bank.

On your way down, the harsh ridged rocks dug into your skin and did little to hinder your fall. Your limbs got caught on small trees and the pain... The pain was immeasurable.

You hit the water with a splash and promptly passed out.

...

Kenny was pissed.

Beyond pissed.

Honestly, he was so angry it surprised him but he didn't dwell on it for too long.

He and Levi had a near perfectly fine plan, but then you had to fuck it all up with that dumbass little stunt you pulled.

Really, what the fuck were you even thinking? Now he has to go out and look for your dumbass. Any sympathy he felt for hitting you earlier felt completely justified in his eyes now.

I mean, why the fuck didn't you just listen to him? He was helping you for God's sake!??

He forced his way through the same crowds you did with his horse. Looking for any sign of your path.

After a minute of riding, through a gap in the road, Levi caught up and rode alongside him. Levi had changed out of his disguise and was looking for you too.

The more they continued through the town without any clues to your wear about, the angrier Kenny became. He was so fed up. He thought that he might actually kill you when he found you.

But as they drove up the road, there was a crowd in the way.

They slowed down but as they got closer, to their dismay, the crowd wasn’t about Y/N. It seemed like they were trying to calm down a horse.

Kenny huffed in annoyance and tried to force his way through but Levi called out to him.

"Kenny wait,” Levi ordered.

"What!? " Kenny asked exasperatedly.

"Shut up and look at the horse."

Kenny stopped at took a good look at the horse. It was light brown... And for a moment he wondered why he should even care but it finally hit him. The horse you left on looked exactly like it.

He and Levi looked around frantically. You couldn't have gone too far, he's sure they didn't feed you well.

Then, he spotted the cart. It seemed out of place from the start but it was quite literally just sitting in the middle of the road.

Moving around the crowd, with Levi following him, he rode up to the cart and dismounted.

Levi got off his horse questioningly and took both reigns and proceeded to tie them to a nearby tree.

Kenny continued to look around. "I think she's around here somewhere, I'm sure that cart tripped her up."

Levi gave no sign of agreement and instead took a look around as well. In truth, he was annoyed too but understood why you would do this in the first place. Kenny never had a good reputation for being genuine or communicative.

But overall, a part of him was worried, both before this and right now. He never thought he'd think this but he didn't want you to die, and right now, you were seriously in danger.

They continued to scout out the area, around the trees and nearby shops, until, while pushing back some bushes, Levi saw the stream. It was a large river bank with rushing water, and there was a steep decline of rocks and trees to it.

"Kenny! " Levi yelled and moved to carefully start his descent to the water.

As he stepped down the more stable rocks, he noticed that some seemed loose, like they had been moved, and there were spots where there were depressions in the ground where a rock used to be.

Soon enough, Kenny came rushing to the bank as well. Immediately taking after Levi (albeit hastily and less carefully)

It took them some time to reach the bottom, but on the way they saw broken trees and... Blood. Blood coated the smooth rocks and twigs left abandoned by the side of the bank. They grew more perturbed.

Once they reached the bottom Kenny immediately looked around the sides of the water. No signs of you, just undisturbed sand.

"She must have gotten carried away by the river!" Kenny yelled over the rushing water.

He and Levi jogged downstream (The decline into the back was too steep for their horses). It was a large basin of water, all flowing and crashing into large rocks down the slope. Further ahead laid a small waterfall, which didn't leave a good feeling in Kenny’s stomach.

They clambered down the sides and continued looking for you. So far down the stream, there was nothing, but it was their only hope in finding your wear abouts.

When Kenny looked ahead, the stream reached somewhat of a turn, or it was more like a couple of large boulders broke the stream into veins, and the largest ran down to the right and out of view.

The other smaller streams kept riding on, out into different directions but what caught his attention was the odd brown object protruding from between some of the rocks.

Without hesitation, he wadded through the strong current towards it. Levi followed doubtlessly, though, he hesitated because he didn't want to get his boots or pants muddy.

Once Kenny eventually reached the other side, he could see what the strange object was.

There, abandoned on the shore was a stray boot. He knelt, picked it up, and studied it.

It was the left boot and when he thought about it, it was suddenly familiar. He took it in his hands and stood up. There were no footprints, or bootprints, just plain sand.

"YN! " he called out. He looked around desperately. "YN!! "

Levi had already strode ahead, taking note of the boot, he walked forward checking behind large boulders. As he progressed forward, he finally spotted what they were looking for.

A body crumpled up along with the rocks. From what he could see, there was a substantial amount of blood.

"Kenny! " Levi called again as he speed walked towards your unconscious form.

Without missing a beat Kenny took off to where he heard Levi. He kept his pace until he spotted you as well, increasing in speed to get to you faster.

He couldn’t will himself to call out to you again, too afraid of the silence that might follow. You can't die. It isn't possible, he doesn't have time for it.

You were in worse shape than he thought. Of course, Levi reached you first, but from what he could see, your left calf was twisted beyond its normal capabilities. There was blood across your stomach and he could see large scratches and the beginnings of bruises started to form on your skin.

Your clothes were tattered and soaked, whatever skin was showing looked damaged in some way or another. Kenny leaned down and watched Levi hurriedly check your pulse. Even Levi looked concerned... or even scared.

Kenny watched as Levi’s face turned from anxious back to his normal scowl.

“Well, is she alive or dead?!” Kenny half yelled out of nervousness.

“She’s alive,” Levi stated in monotone, “But she’s probably broken some bones and we’ll have to carry her back.”

Kenny grumbled but felt a rush of peace. He didn’t want to admit it but he was tense the whole time before Levi said that.

“Well, let’s get a move on, I’m sick and tired of this shit.” Kenny spat. He sat the boot down and squatted to find a way to pick you up. But as his hands breached under your back and knees, you abruptly started coughing and heaving. It was a thick and heaving cough, and every time you did was excruciating.

“Finally awake huh?” Kenny taunted through gritted teeth, “Have a nice trip?”

You were too disoriented to comprehend what Kenny was saying. You groaned because of the pain and let your eyes adjust. The noise of the water and Kenny’s loud ass voice overwhelmed you.

“What…” You croaked. “Kenny?”

“Yeah it’s me, Princess,” Kenny said sarcastically, “I’m here to save your dumbass.”

“What’s going on?” You asked no one in particular. Your eyes finally adjusted and you could make out Kenny and Levi looking down at you. Levi looked more or less normal but Kenny… well, let’s just say Kenny didn’t look pleased.

“You tell me. We had a plan but it seems like you had other ideas.” he bitched.

“I,” you thought about it but found your brain was having a hard time thinking. “I didn’t know” you muttered dumbly.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Kenny said angrily, “You’re in a butt load of trouble for this little stunt you pulled, first you fuckin’ headbutt me, then you run off and now you’ve troubled both me and Levi by having to walk all the way down here to get you. I haven't even mentioned the stuff we're gonna have to do to get you back and fixed.”

You felt embarrassed, to say the least. If your face wasn’t already burning from the blood rushing to it from the pain, it sure was now. “I thought that- I thought-”

“Well you thought fuckin’ wrong, that’s what you fucking did, you screwed it all up,” Kenny cursed.

Levi had already stood up when you weren’t paying attention, but his voice suddenly made his presence known. He wasn’t one to get into his uncle's affairs, you were Kenny's little brat and had little relation to him, but this was getting to be too much.

“Can we do this shit some other time, Kenny?” Levi spoke with an annoyed tone.

“No! No, I have shit to say to this little fucker.” Kenny barked at him while staring at you.

Kenny then reached down and grabbed at your shirt, hauling you up and causing you to huff. Your legs strained and the ankle, which was numb before, suddenly felt very noticeable and painful. You whimpered and hissed.

“When I fucking tell you to do something, you’re supposed to Fucking Do It!” Kenny hissed while jabbing at you, “Don’t fucken ignore me. Don’t do the opposite. And Don’t Fucking Hit me you little-”

He stopped momentarily when he saw the tears running down your cheeks. “Oh, don’t you think for a second those crocodile tears are gonna’ make me forget this mess sweetheart. You fucked this shit up, and now you’re gonna pay for it.”

Levi cursed and anxiously shuffled on his feet, “Kenny, lets just fucking go, our horses are still-”

“Shut Up! I’m not done!” Kenny ordered, “What were you even thinking huh? Do you want this to happen? Did you think you were gonna do something? Did you think this was gonna change anything? Huh?” Kenny shook you with every question, unaware of the pain this was causing you.

Some more tears fell down your face. You kept grimacing.

After you didn’t answer because of the pain, Kenny continued. “Some shit like this happens every single time! Should I have just left you there? Maybe I should've because now I have to deal with your bullshit again. Do you want me to bring you back!?”

“Kenny, I thought I was gonna die” you sobbed.

Kenny stopped at stared at you. Since you said it through tears and hiccups it took a moment to understand you. “You thought you were gonna die?” He questioned condescendingly.

It took a second for you to answer, because of the hiccups and gasping. “I thought- that you had left me for good. You just left me to die- I thought I was gonna die.”

He stayed silent for a moment. Huffing through his nose and staring at your pain-stricken face, trying to understand exactly what you meant.

“It was when- When” You gasped. “When you turned away from me when they took me away. You turned away and left me.”

Kenny stared at you with a confused expression, but then sighed and looked down when he realized where the misunderstanding happened.

Kenny’s voice was much softer now as if explaining to a toddler he spoke, “Y/N I did that so that the MP didn’t think it was a setup. You know that I have to act so that they didn’t suspect anything.”

“No- No I didn’t because I had no clue you were with the MP. You just-” You huffed once more, “You just left me and I had to stay there with- with no food and in fear because- because I was gonna die. I thought I was gonna die for sure.” You whimpered and sputtered. “And- And you’re really h-hurting me.” You added pitifully.

Kenny hesitated, as if somewhat surprised that he was causing you physical pain, before calmly setting you back down.

He waited for a moment over you, mulling over his actions and the miscommunication that had accrued.

“Let’s go,” Kenny decided, “Levi, help me.”

Levi returned to your side hastily, happy this argument was finally over, and supported your body as Kenny carefully pulled you up and held your bridal style. As he adjusted you, you continued to groan and hiss. Your arm rose to grab onto something because of anxiety since you couldn’t remember the last time you were picked up.

Your hand grasped onto the back of Kenny’s collar and your head rested near Kenny’s shoulder. You continued to huff involuntarily.

Levi grabbed your left boot and they began to walk, without the urgency they had before, up the river. Every step Kenny took left a sting in your leg since it moved with the inertia of his movement but you keep silent.

You closed your eyes and tried to fight the shame and embarrassment that was overcoming you. ‘Another time I fuck it all up, Kenny is right, I really am just a burden.’ Your conscious tormented. ‘Every time I’m around something bad happens. They really should’ve just left me to die.’

“Kenny…” You started hesitantly, “I’m really sorry”

You heard no response and it left you feeling incredibly stupid. ‘What was an apology gonna do? Fix things?’ But something distracted you from thinking this way for too long because you noticed Kenny’s heartbeat had increased substantially.

“Just… don’t you ever do that again,” Kenny said softly while stepping over a particularly large rock. Causing you to wince.

“I won't..” You muttered.

He took this as an invitation to continue talking. “You gave me quite a fright ya know? All I know is that you’re gone and you’ve lost a lot of blood. And then we finally find you and you’re unconscious… heh, you said you were scared you were gonna die, well I was scared shitless that you actually were.” He admitted with a weak smile.

After a moment with no response, he suddenly felt a deep despairing pit form in his gut and he quickly looked down at you.

“Levi, she’s not responding.” He spoke with urgency.

“She’s just sleeping” Levi answered calmly, “She lost a lot of blood.”

Kenny tutted with embarrassment. Nodding as if he already knew that.

“Jesus kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” He spoke under his breath.

★ I know I haven't posted in like, 2 years but im a one hit wonder except my hits aren't wonders they're mistakes.

Also, this is NOT lore accurate at all 😅 I can't even remember theast time I've seen at I just randomly remembered my liking towards Kenny and felt the need to write it.

And actually, if you can't tell, I wrote this on the course of 2 years, some of the beginning is low quality but the end is recent so if it sounds different halfway through apologies.

Also, I wish I could recall the name and uthor but this is a little bit inspired by their Kenny x reader fics where it's in a western AU. I just loved it so much that now whenever I imagine Kenny it's when he's some wanted outlaw in the Wild West.

‼️I have a part 2 if anyone is interested. I'll probably post it anyway if this gets attention 👍

#kenny ackerman x reader #kenny ackerman #aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #kenny ackerman x you

53 notes · View notes