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reverieblondie · 12 days

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Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X AFAB!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter.

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?”

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.”

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself.

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture.

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare.

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?”

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment.

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation.

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace.

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.”

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…)

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!”

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class…

“Miggy~”

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.”

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age.

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…”

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic.

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement.

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them.

“Well…technically…I didn’t”

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.”

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man.

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?”

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…”

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment.

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions,

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow.

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…”

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-”

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him.

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!”

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!”

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile,

“It’s like density!”

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush.

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same.

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…”

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips.

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt.

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye.

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this…

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?”

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…”

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.”

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…”

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you.

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap.

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain.

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?”

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight.

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do?

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again.

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious.

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat.

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…”

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.”

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly.

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?”

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shakes through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again.

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…”

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain.

“Miguel, I like the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t have run away…”

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, like when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now.

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat.

“I thought you were sweet…”

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you.

“Could I make it up to you somehow?”

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.”

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest.

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect.

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you.

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want.

“Miggy, I always like you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more.

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…”

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver.

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass.

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you.

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…”

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your licks isn’t lost on him.

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses.

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~”

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets.

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly creases up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can.

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and crease his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?”

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine.

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick.

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~”

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit.

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more.

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste.

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop.

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more.

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length.

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering.

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch.

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine.

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper.

“So eager, Miggy~”

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling.

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths.

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile,

“Good…”

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce.

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high.

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin.

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more.

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.”

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you.

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt.

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting.

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently.

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort.

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question,

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?”

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer.

“Miggy, about time you asked…”

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

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murdrdocs · 3 months

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Babe. Babe. Babe. I’m ovulating and it shows BUT. I’m thinking SO heavy abt how in MULTIPLE of ur luke fics you comment on his desire to cum inside, knowing damn well he can’t/that he’ll be able to talk her into it one day and it WONT leave my brain alone. I need a fic where reader finally lets him. I’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure as I type this. down horrendously. send help.

creampie; MDNI – i did not realize that I did this that often erm

if he hadn't have told you verbally, with the way luke is fucking you, you would've been able to figure out what his goal was.

it was one he recently set, having been given permission by you, coupled with extremely enthusiastic consent.

truthfully, it was about time.

all of those sessions where you would see him staring longingly at your cunt after he fucked it, as if he were expecting something else to happen. all of those nights where he would hesitate before putting on a condom, plump lips parting as if he prepared to ask a question, and then promptly closing as he decided against it.

it all led to this: luke finally fucking you raw, leading himself to an orgasm that would make it all worth it.

he has you in a mating press, as if he needed to amplify his intentions even more.

the tops of your thighs pressed against your chest, your ankles and calves thrown over his shoulders, the position spreading you open to give luke access to the deepest parts of you.

he keeps mentioning it, clearly as entranced by it all as you are. little breaths of "so deep" and borderline gasps of "you feel me?" spoken into the stiff air.

you really aren't much better. the ferocity of his hips, the hunger behind each thrust, has made you go dumb. you can only respond in pornographic "yes"'s and "mhm"'s every so often. all of your energy and sense has gone to the feeling of luke driving himself in and out of you like you're nothing but a pocket pussy.

he'd already made you cum once, and another is steadily approaching. it comes closer and closer as you realize that luke is using your body.

it arrives when luke tells you he's about to cum, since you know what that means.

somehow, your brain begins to function and words form.

"please, luke. please cum in me. i need it so bad."

you sound desperate, like something out a video curated perfectly to appease audiences. but that's just how luke has made you feel. that's what he's done to you.

he presses one of your legs further down into your chest and begins to roll his hips into yours, abdominal muscles going taut as his eyelids lower to watch it all happen.

"'m close, baby. just a little..." he lets the sentence tailor off without a complete ending but its not necessary. not when his hips twitch and then still and then finally, he's spurting cum into you.

it's a foreign feeling, but in the best possible way. warm and wet, copious amounts, more than you would've expected. you think you felt him fill you out a little more for a second, but you can't even begin to consider that whenever luke pulls out and his cum follows.

you barely mourn the emptiness before luke's speaking to you.

"did so well, angel. but i need one more thing from you." he lowers your legs, kisses the tops of your calves. "push it out 'f me. need to see it, angel."

you do as told, letting his cum drip out and encouraging it a little with your last remnants of energy. luke's breath hitches, and then you flinch when his fingers probe at your entrance.

he apologizes in a soft whisper but continues his exploration. thick fingers sliding in his cum, smearing it over your cunt. when he gets up to your clit, teasing the bud with the newly added slip, you say his name. it's meant to be a warning, but it comes out more as a plea.

either way, he still chuckles through his halfhearted apology.

"can't help it," he reasons.

"just look so pretty with my cum leaking out of you."

#got kinda meta for a sec erm #lukesworld!#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #celeste writes pjo

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bimb0fy · 5 months

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perfect girlfriend; monkey d luffy

pairings; monkey d luffy x shank!reader

warning(s); mentions of scars, kinda suggestive at the end.

summary; luffy always had your name in his mouth, his girlfriend this! his girlfriend that! the crew never knew if you had actually existed considering the fact that your name didn't ring any bells or that well, they haven't met you yet. when luffy proposed a visit they all agreed to put an end to this little charade.

word count: 1,071 words

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ!! | ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ!!

— Luffy smiled as he ran over the deck, perfecting everything that looked slightly unpleasing. He hadn't seen you in months, going back to his old village meant seeing you again and he wanted it to be perfect. You both kept in touch by sending letters and after a while, ended up buying phones to reach each other faster.

Nami sat on a crate, her legs crossed as Sanji and Zoro stood beside her. Ussop was attempting to stop Luffy from falling overboard. She looked over at the two boys who rolled their eyes. "Not one bit huh?" Nami asked the two who nodded.

Sanji had faith in the beginning, believing the boy since well, he has a heart of gold, but after a while of hearing stories that sound like tales out of a naive boys mouth is well, unbelievable. Yes, it was possible for him to have a girlfriend, yet she can't be great in everything.

She can't be a fantastic with swords and a genius in the medical field, she can't be the best cook, better then Sanji Luffy might say, and have a hand for crafts. Maybe he was simply overcompensating about his love.

"Luffy, the ship looks great, I'm sure your girl will love it." Sanji smiled at the boy as both Nami and Zoro let out stiffled laughs.

"Whats so funny?" Luffy asked the group who looked at eachother. Luffy grew more concerned as he took his hat off, sliding them onto his shoulders.

"It's just that we uh." Nami started as she tried to figure out a way to frame it in a decent way.

"We don't think she exists." Zoro answered as Nami turned to the boy, her eyes wide as he shrugged. "What, it's better then lying."

"Y/n is real, why don't you guys believe me?" Luffy asked the crew who stayed quiet. He looked among them as he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's real, shes a pirate too, well, was a pirate."

"Yeah, and a doctor, and a cook, and a writer. She seems perfect, no one is." Zoro looked at the boy who scoffed.

"Well, she is, and look, we're here so you'll see for yourself!" Luffy said as he ran towards the front. Nami sighed as she stopped the ship, Luffy instantly jumping down, running towards a trap door. He opened it, jumping down for the group to follow him.

They were placed in an old basement, filled with materials and a section with belongings. "What is this place, it's so, rusty." Sanji said as he pinched his nose due to the horrid smell of fish guts.

"It's my home, well, was my home." Luffy smiled at the group as he walked over to his old bed, he opened a chest, taking out a satchel with his old belongings before climbing back up. "C'mon, I got my stuff, let's go meet Y/n!"

"Yeah, cause that's totally not stalling." Nami said as she climbed out, helping Zoro up as she ran after the boy who ran towards a bar.

"Luffy! My god we missed you!" The bartender smiled at the boy who hugged her. He turned back to his crew, looking around for another person.

"Hey Makino I got the broom." You said as you entered the room, you looked up to find Luffy who stood in shock. You dropped the broom as you ran towards the boy, jumping at him as he caught you, spinning you around.

You kissed his lips as he smiled, he set you down, wrapping his arms around you as he turned back to his crew who stood shocked. "Wait, she's actually real?" Zoro asked as he turned to Nami. She shrugged as he turned back to you.

"Guys, this is my very real girlfriend, Y/n." Luffy introduced you as you laughed. You waved at the group who waved back, Sanji with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"What a nice young lady you are-." Sanji's sentence was cut off by Luffy who had punched the boy, you covered your mouth before turning back to Luffy who looked serious.

"Luffy!" You yelled as he turned back to you, his expression softening.

"What?" He answered as you fliched his hat, he smiled as he held onto it, kissing your cheek before carrying you up, spinning you around one more time.

"Cmon now, I wanna show you my ship!" Luffy smiled as he held your hand, running towards the dock where the going merry happened to be. He skipped up the ramp as you looked in awe at the ship.

Luffy leaned onto the railings, smiling at the girl who stood on shock. "This is your ship? This is yours?" You asked the boy who nodded. He seemed proud of himself, you knew he had a ship but never expected a huge ship with an actual flag.

"C'mon, I'll show you my room, our room." Luffy smiled at the girl who scrunched her face in confusion. Luffy jumped down, holding your hand as he stared into your eyes. "Y/n, I want you to join my crew, we need someone like you, you know what you're doing, your perfect, your kind and smart."

"I left that life behind." You sighed as he looked away, you could tell her was upset. You hated being apart, he hated it more. Luffy was always an affectionate person, being away from his loved one hurt more then anyone could ever imagine. "I suppose you do need help to find the one piece."

Luffys face brightened up as he looked at you, smiling before carrying you up to the ship. You giggled as he set you down in the Captains quarters. The place was surrounded in pictures and souvenirs from adventures they had gone through. A desk filled with books and paper, probably stories written by him. You turned to the bed that seemed big enough for two people.

"You planned this, didn't you?" You turned to the boy who smiled, raising his eyebrows. You laughed before setting down on the bed. "I'll go get lunch ready?"

"No need, Sanji 'll do it." He smirked as he placed his hands on your waist, you smiled as you looked back at the boy, he traced your scar on your left cheek with his fingertips in such a loving way. "Now, let me show you how much I missed you my love."

#one piece live action #x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #opla luffy x reader #opla monkey d luffy #one piece live action luffy

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decolonize-the-left · 4 months

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is it possible to ever stop being a settler if u were born white in america? genuine question im sorry if this sounds stupid i just dont know and youre smart about this

This is actually a great question and one better answered if you can figure out what's makes a settler and a native so different.

The short answer: no. As long as the USA exists then you are a settler. Further, to continue defining yourself as an American is to continue claiming a settler identity. If you don't want to be a settler you need to stop identifying as such and seek to dismantle the USA in solidarity with natives.

The long answer:

Going back to what makes settlers and natives so different. Settlers have no connection to the land. They don't know what grows in it because they've never had to rely on it. They don't see it's worth because they can only see the value that destroying it brings.

They don't see the medicine or food or shelter or burial grounds that have brought people together for thousands of years. They don't see that it can continue to do so for thousands more.

And that's because settlers rely on their colonialist powers to provide for them.

So instead of seeing community and life in the land and people, settlers see things like parking lots and hotels and competition.

Their food will come prepared for them to use and they won't think about the animal it came from or the people exploited for it to end up on their table. They don't know where it came from either and the same goes for near everything else in their houses.

Settlers are defined by not only their complicity in this system & it's violence, but their resistance to make the same connections to the land. Settlers have dehumanized the earth and its inhabitants, reduced us to commodities. Respecting the earth is laughable to settlers.

So is it possible to not be a settler in America?

I can't tell you the answer is to be Ojibwe or Sámi or Taino, but the answer is certainly to live indigenously.

These New People will have to carve out their own cultures and ways and traditions. And as a people who exploited and displaced millions of people and created a 'melting pot', I feel like the first step should be dismantling white supremacy in the name of peace and tolerance. Wouldn't do any good to try moving forward without addressing the ideology that brought us all here.

It should be to learn about community, the people its made of, and actively loving them instead of passively tolerating them. Learn about their traditions, events, and/or holidays and see how they can be more included in community events and celebrations

The more you do this the more realize how often we're truly left out while others are centered.

Seek to change that.

Refuse to follow the current American values of bias, hate, and judgement.

#answered #asked #indigenous #native #ojibwe

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sickuma · 10 months

Text

SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back.

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?”

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance.

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent,

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours.

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him.

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while.

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe.

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body,

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you.

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel.

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone."

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him.

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail.

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug.

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you.

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

1K notes · View notes

fyorina · 3 days

Text

ᡣ𐭩 KNOW IT'S FOR THE BETTER (ALL I WANTED WAS YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: he can't stop himself from calling; you can't stop yourself from answering. he never speaks, but he doesn't have to—just knowing he's there is enough to lure you in. that's how it remains for weeks. that is until you mention that you're going on a risky mission and dazai has to to make an equally risky decision to keep you safe.

(wordcount: 3.1k; fem!reader, pm!reader, post-defection, angsty but not awfully so (again, sorry, i swear there's happier ones coming), implied alcoholism, dazai gets a bit jealous, ango cameo)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: OKAYYYYYY this was actually my first pm!reader and pmzai fic, believe it or not, it's been in my notes app for ages. i tried to fix most of the inconsistencies. as always, can be read as a standalone butttt for the people following the pm!reader universe, this comes directly after death by a thousand cuts! i hope you guys enjoy!! im actually rlly excited to finally get this fic out here!

He calls you sometimes.

Well, you don’t know for sure it’s him—he never speaks, if you’re lucky sometimes you can hear soft puffs of air from the other line, and the number is always unknown, but you know in your heart that it’s him.

The first call came three days after you found him drunk in an alley—seven months after his defection.

The unknown caller ID popped up on your phone while you were drinking with Chuuya in his apartment, trying to forget all about Dazai Osamu and all of the pain he’s brought you. You answered it irritably and when you got no response from the caller, you promptly told them to fuck off and die if they’re going to waste your time with prank calls. You expected them to hang up right away but they didn’t—in fact, they only hung up when they heard Chuuya shouting for you to get off the phone so he can open another bottle of wine, as if he wasn’t going to anyway.

The next call came another three days after that.

You were in a meeting with Mori when the unknown caller popped back up on your phone screen. You excused yourself to answer the phone only because you were desperate for a reason to get out of the meeting—you think that he might’ve somehow sniffed out that you ran into Dazai and if he outright asked you, you didn’t know if you’d be able to lie without him catching you in it.

Regardless of the reasoning, you were even more pissed off than you were the first time when you heard the silence on the other end, accusing them of fucking with you and demanding to know how they got your number—again, the person didn’t say anything, and you hung up even more irate than you were the first time.

It takes three more calls for you to put the pieces together—it’s a bit embarrassing how long it took you, but in your defense, you were trying to put Dazai Osamu as far from your mind as possible. Honestly, you weren’t even sure of it when you first guessed his name. It’s a shot in the dark when you answer the unknown caller for the fifth time and whisper, “Dazai?” so very hesitantly. Your confirmation comes in the form of a sharp inhale on the other line before it instantly goes dead.

He doesn’t call again for two weeks, and when he finally does, it’s in the middle of the night. The buzzing of the phone woke you up, your alarm clock glowing a bright 3:15 am. You don’t even look at the caller—you figure it’s Chuuya, who has yet to return from his mission in Sendai—as you answer with a groggy “what?”

You get no response besides the sound of a shaky breath on the other end and suddenly you’re wide awake as you realize who exactly called. He doesn’t speak, even as you make yourself sick with anger—he’s conscious and coherent this time, unlike the time you ran into him in the alley, so you take the opportunity to unleash all of the pent up rage and hurt that you’d withheld that night. You cry for the first time since he defected and he stays on the line the whole time, until you eventually exhaust yourself and fall asleep. When you wake up in the morning, he’s hung up, but the call time reads four and a half hours.

It becomes a weekly occurrence—occasionally biweekly.

Sometimes, you tell him about your day, rambling on about how you were irritated because Mori made you deal with Ace or complaining about recent territory issues that the Port Mafia has been facing—something that you probably shouldn’t be sharing on an unsecure line with someone who defected from the mafia, but you can never bring yourself to fully care because it’s Dazai.

Other times, you just lay in bed quietly, exhausted after a full day of work, the phone resting next to your ear as doze off to the comforting sound of his steady breathing.

You don’t tell anyone.

If anyone knew you’re keeping in contact with a traitor, you’d be executed. You think that Chuuya might know—the two of you now share the penthouse of the westernmost skyscraper of the five buildings of the Port Mafia’s base and you know he’s smart enough to have put together who you’re talking to late at night. But if he does, he doesn’t say anything, because he too knows what the consequences of your actions would be if it were true.

You let out a soft puff of air as your phone begins buzzing—it’s well past midnight and you’re half asleep, but you roll over and pick up the phone with heavy eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper.

Dazai doesn’t respond, he never does, but you can hear him breathing on the other line, closer to the speaker than he usually is. You can’t help but notice that his breath is heavier than usual too, a bit shakier.

He’s been drinking, you realize. You figured that he usually drinks on the nights that he calls you, but he never lets himself close enough to the speaker for you to figure out if it’s true. You just hope it’s not as bad as….

“I won’t be able to answer for a while after this,” you say quietly after a few moments, rolling over in bed to shift your face closer to the phone. “Mori assigned me another mission. An infiltration one—first one since you’ve been gone.”

Dazai would know the implications of that, and from the way he inhales sharply at your words, you know he does instantly, even in his drunken state.

Whenever you were sent on infiltration missions, Dazai was always the one in your ear, making sure that you got in and out safely. You refused to take infiltration missions unless Dazai and his freakish prophetic ability was the one on comms for you because you knew he’d be able to figure out if you’ve been compromised before the enemy have even figured it out for themselves.

But you had known it was only a matter of time before Mori put you back on them. You’re the best suited in the Port Mafia for them and the recent issues with that gang that’s been moving into the northern wards from Asakusa all but demands interference from the inside lest you guys will be dealing with another major gang war and the city can’t handle that.

“I’m nervous,” you admit for the first time, voice little over a whisper. “I don’t trust anyone but you to be my eyes and ears. Plus this mafia is... They're very violent. Kawabata leads it. I faced off against him in Osaka before he moved into Tokyo, back when I was still in Kyoto. It's... risky. It's been years but I'm worried he'll recognize me. I don't know why Mori is insisting on me being the one to go in.”

You swear you hear Dazai take in another breath, as if he was about to say something this time, but he doesn’t. Your throat feels swollen and your eyes feel misty, jaw tight. Not for the first time, you miss Dazai. You miss him so desperately that you swear your chest caves in at the thought of him.

You want to hate him but you know you can’t. You've come to accept that already. But you think you still might like to pretend you can.

You told yourself after you ran into him that night that you’d push him from mind, you’d forget about him. You knew that one day you’d meet him again—you and Dazai Osamu have been entwined since the day you met, fate has a lot left in store for the two of you for things to just so abruptly end—but until that day, you have to focus on what matters. And what matters is the Port Mafia.

But how are you supposed to forget him when he can’t even bring himself to fully leave you behind? You think it’s cruel of him, and you think that you should ignore his calls until he finally gives up, but you can’t bring yourself to because no matter how much you preach about forgetting him, if the choice of keeping contact with him arises, you’ll always choose it.

“I miss you,” you breathe out, voice cracking over your words. “I miss you so much that it hurts, Dazai. i-“

The line goes dead.

The words on your lips die as soon as you realize he hung up, heart sinking. You sigh as you stare up at the ceiling before curling over onto your side, hoping to at least get a little sleep before your early wake up call for mission prep.

But it’s a naive hope—you know that you’ll never sleep tonight, not with thoughts of Dazai Osamu racing through your mind.

Dazai shouldn’t be doing this.

His knuckles are white as he sits at a row of monitors in a locked down ex-government facility. On each of the screens are different vantage points of the main base of the Scarlet Gang, the mafia that had been run out of the Asakusa ward of Tokyo by the Sun and Steel and is now challenging the Port Mafia.

Ango is pacing somewhere behind him, expression tight and arms crossed against his chest. Dazai knows that he’s livid over this, but Dazai also does not care because he doesn’t think that Ango has a right to be livid about anything that Dazai does anymore.

He’s been here for three days already. His knees are tucked to his chest as he sits on the spinning chair, bags heavy beneath his eyes and hair matted and oily after days of sitting in front of the screen without budging an inch. He doesn’t dare take his eyes off the screen—not when your life is on the line, and especially not when he’s not even on a direct comms line with you. All he has is a burner cell and hope that you at least take a look at your phone if he has to send a text.

If this mission is like every other infiltration mission you’ve been sent on, it’ll be another two days before your planned extraction—and if you have the same luck you always do, the mission will go smoothly. But Dazai has a dark feeling in his gut, and he isn’t quite sure if it’s because he has no control over the mission or if something bad really is going to happen, there have already been some suspicious signs and he doesn't trust Mori. Your whole comment about his insistence on you going keeps scratching the back of his head like he's missing something, because there's no way Mori would ever risk losing your ability, especially to Kawabata. The man is always scheming, and Dazai is certain there's one simmering below the facade of this mission but he just can't figure out what. Either way, he knows he can't risk stepping away for even a moment.

“I thought you were done with this, Dazai.” Ango finally has the nerve to voice what dazai knows he’s been itching to say for three days. “I thought-“

“Maybe you should stop thinking,” Dazai says dryly, his head hurts and sweat is beading beneath his arms. Three days without drinking is affecting him way more than he thought it would, but he can’t afford to be inebriated for this.

“Dazai-“ Ango begins.

“I’m not doing this for the Port Mafia,” Dazai cuts him off, dark eyes dragging across the screen to where he sees you laughing with one of the members of the Scarlet Gang, leaning in close with a teasing smile.

You’re beautiful. Stunning. He can’t blame the way the man you’re talking to seems to gravitate closer to you, enamored by the sound of your voice and the way your eyes glitter beneath the room’s chandelier, but he still wishes he could put a bullet through his head.

He hasn’t seen you since the day before he left—well, he doesn’t remember seeing you since then, at least. He has some suspicions regarding the part of his ear that mysteriously went missing the night he woke up in one of your shared safehouses, but this is his first time really seeing you and it makes his chest feel sick and heavy to know you’re so out of reach and by his own doing, nonetheless.

His eyes narrow as he watches the man reach out to brush his fingers against your arm. His lips twist down even more when his gaze tracks down to your lips—this is always his least favorite part of being on comms for your infiltration missions.

“You won’t be able to oversee all of her infiltration missions anymore, Dazai,” Ango says, voice a bit more gentle and Dazai has a distinct urge to rip out the man’s vocal cords. “Once I get your records clear and you’ve joined up with the Agency, you’re going to have to leave this all behind for good. All of it.”

Dazai doesn’t respond. His lips press together tight as Ango’s words register. He knows that he’s right, that if he wants to honor Odasaku’s final wishes, then he has to leave everything behind—even you—but he can hardly even bear the thought of it. Never seeing you again, never hearing your voice again, he thinks that a life without you is not a life worth living.

He thought that he’d be able to do it, that he’d be able to cut you off just like everyone else, but it only took one drunken night at a bar when he stared at old pictures of you for a bit too long for him to give in to the aching feeling in his chest, the desperate need to at least hear your voice one last time.

Except one last time turned into another and another; as much as Dazai Osamu likes to pretend to be strong, he’s always been weak at heart for you. From he moment he met you three years earlier during the Dragon’s Head Conflict—sent with Chuuya by Mori to retrieve you after finding out the squad sent to escort you back had been decimated by an ability user—he’s known that he was out of his depth when it comes to you.

He was already curious to begin with, Mori doesn’t speak highly of anyone but he did speak highly of you, and at first Dazai assumed it was just because you were a girl, and a young one at that. Everyone knows Mori’s gross fascination with them. But when they found you mid-conflict with an ability user, trying to hold your own with only a gun and some rubble as shields to defend yourself from sweltering flames, he realized that maybe there was more that meets the eye to you.

You’re beautiful—god, he can never stress it enough, words don’t do you justice. Wicked smart. Can talk your way into and out of any situation. Have a bounty on your head high enough to rival his own. From the day he met you, Dazai knew you were everything he’s ever wanted. And yeah, maybe it took him too long to come to terms with that, but it doesn’t make the feelings any less powerful.

Sometimes, when he drinks just a bit too much and he finds himself staring at old pictures of the two of you that he’d taken, he wonders if you would have come with him if he told you what he was doing. He wonders if maybe he hadn’t been a coward, you would be with him right now instead of risking your life on an infiltration mission with some incompetent moron on comms instead of him. He wonders if maybe he would have kissed you on that same bridge he tried to kill himself during that first week he spent drunk and alone.

He doubts it. In his heart, he’s pretty sure you’d always choose the Mafia over him, but it’s nice to pretend sometimes.

“I don’t care” Dazai finally says, his voice rougher than he intended as he gives Ango a cold look from the corner of his eye. “I won’t let her die on a bullshit mission because some clown is on comms for her.”

Ango doesn’t get a chance to respond again because Dazai’s eyes are drawn back to the monitors, where a conversation is taking place on the far side of the room. A conversation that has them looking in your direction a bit too often for his liking.

Dazai inhales, rising to his feet, shoulders and arms tensing as his eyes trace the screen, trying to figure out if he should send you a warning. If he’s wrong, it’ll have completely blown your mission and it would put you at risk if Mori or any of the other executives start questioning you as to why you abandoned the mission for no reason.

But if he’s right…

Dazai is good at many things, and he’s always been quick to be the one on comms with you because he, better than anyone else in the mafia, is good at reading and predicting enemy moves. He always knows in his gut what’s about to happen, you would sometimes joke that it was his real ability, some form of foresight and you would be less joking when you nudge his shoulder and tell him that you’re glad you have his ‘freaky prophetic ability’ otherwise you’d have been dead a long time ago.

Dazai grits his teeth. He feels Ango approaching him from behind but ignores him, mind racing as he tries to calculate the best course of action.

Finally, he takes the burner phone and shoots you a short message: compromised.

And then he waits.

The longest and most tense minute of his life passes as he watches you on the screen, waiting to see if you’ll even bother to check your phone. He doesn’t think that he’ll be able to stay in the room if it turns out you are compromised and stuck in enemy territory—he’d feel helpless, unable to do anything but watch and pray to a god he barely believes in that you get out okay.

Come on, he thinks to himself as one of the men begins making his way in your direction, nails digging into his palms so deeply that blood began to flow from the crescents. Come on, check your phone.

And then you do.

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he sees you pull out your phone, eyes tracing the message on your screen rapidly. A flurry of emotions rocket across your face, and for a moment, Dazai thinks that you’re about to cry.

But then you smile again, leaning in and clasping the man’s hand and leaning in to brush your lips against his cheek before making your way out of the room. He doesn’t dare look away until you’ve slipped out of sight from the cameras littered throughout the building and out of danger.

Without another word, Dazai turns to leave the old facility.

“Dazai,” Ango calls after him.

Dazai ignores him, snapping the burner phone. You’re safe—that’s all that matters. Now he can go back to drinking himself away and dreaming of what could’ve been.

Two days later, Mori sends you away on a mission abroad that lasts the next three years. That night was the last time he had any sort of contact with you until you’re finally brought back.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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doki-doki-imagines · 2 months

Note

Mind numbingly in love with bihan and kuai liang

author note: previous. Happy Valentine!

Bi-Han: -If doctors told him that shooting his head would let his crush fade away, he would do it without thinking twice. -It's hard to notice his change, mostly because he is almost as efficient as always. -Almost is the key word. -His punches are good, but not perfect, his kicks are perfect but not excellent. -Bi-Han is grumpy as always, but his eyes always search for your figure, even in a crowd. Fingers playing and twirling with each other, biceps and pectorals twitching. -Liang is the first to notice his brother behaviour, sly smirk appearing every time he knows you are nearby. -"You look like a lovesick fool, Grandmaster." "Shut your trap, Kuai Liang." "Oh the full name. Did I strike a nerve, brother?" "Silence!" -Tomas chuckles behind them, enjoying the Liang teasings. -Bi-Han will reduce at maximum his relation with you. If possible, he won't even acknowledge your presence in the room. -If you want something to happen, you'll have to take the reins! Bi-Han is already wrapped around your fingers, it is just hard for him to accept that he can't command his own heart.

Kuai Liang: -Liang knows those feelings. He knows he has a crush on you. He just has to understand how to woo you. -Liang doesn't want to bury his feelings. He wants to love you and for his love to be reciprocated by you. -At first, he is a bit rusty. The last time he tried to woo someone, he was a teenager, a time when he was dumb, but his partner wasn't much better. Both felt something more physical than romantic. -Liang knows he doesn't look bad, so his appearance doesn't worry him much. But will you be able to love his personality? -You do already, but he doesn't know. -You flick up his chin, and his heart skips a beat. Once you asked him if you could braid his hair and Liang accepted. He thought about your fingers on his scalp for an entire month; every morning when he had to brush his hair. -Liang also has a problem with jealousy, not as bad as when he was young, but it is still a problem. -He feels sparkles in his hands when you lean a bit too much on Liu Kang. He has to move his fingers around to make sure a fire won't start in his hands. -Liang's voice gets so deep when you get closer, face softening up, a smile always adorning his face. -But he is really weak for your fingers. The slightest touch, and he feels his skin melting. -"I didn't know you are a pyromancer too." "I'm not. What do you mean?" "Because you set my skin on fire every time you touch me." "Fuck this sound stupid" Liang thinks, crossing in his mind this new pick-up line he came up with. -You won't need to take the first step because Liang will take it at the first good occasion. Maybe it's raining and you ask him if you can sleep in his house for the night (Liang will take every occasion to make you wear his clothes). Or the weather is chilly and Liang will seize the opportunity to warm you up. Or simply Liang won't be able to take it anymore and ask you out, dining out begging Madame Bo to keep the temperature of the room chilly so you'll lean on him…

#mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #bi han #bi han x reader #kuai liang #kuai liang x reader #bi han sub zero #kuai liang scorpion

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driaswrld · 6 months

Text

one night only! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.1k

summary : fem!reader goes to a club with shoko to be free from her scary guard dog besties, satoru and suguru show up anyway, just a bunch of intimacy really. maybe one lil suggestive part w satoru?? mention of wlw shoko and possible insinuation of stoner geto lmao

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i headcanon poly satosugu as often toeing the line between platonic love and romantic love bcus these three idiots rlly can't tell the diff sometimes. also shoko is gay and is my gf don't @ me. also this is ooc of how satoru and suguru would be at a club cs lets be fr satoru would be an emotional drunken mess while suguru is in the bathroom smoking or smth

other : im having so many teenage romance thoughts ab poly satosugu. also this was kinda inspired by a poly marauders fic i read agesss ago

current casette : i was never there - the weeknd. me and your mama - childish gambino.

You can feel the bass of the music in your throat, your heartbeat racing to catch up with it.

Parties like these only had one common thread : brainless, brainless fun.

“That one over there,” Shoko murmurs against your ear as discreetly as she can, but just as loud as for you to hear her over the thumping music inside the club. Your gaze moves from the sequin strap across Shoko’s shoulder and over to a girl across the way, a redhead, leaning against the bar and knocking back an expensive looking drink. “She’s pretty.” You turn your head to Shoko’s ear.

Satoru and Suguru have been… hovering these past few weeks.

You love them, truly, the bestest best friends anyone could ask for. But two popular conventionally attractive men by your side at all times? It does put a damper on your love life. Shoko would be able to understand your point of view — if she wasn’t playing for the other team at least.

The redhead looks over her shoulder out at the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, the dark blue dress she has on really accentuates her figure — among other things. “You should go tal–” Before you can finish, Shoko’s mouth is agape, eyes fixed on the girl, and being the wingwoman that you are, you shove her forward a little. “Talk to her.”

“You sure?” Shoko wobbles forward, tipsy but sober enough to take a pretty girl home. The neon lights inside the club flash pink and blue then red and green then pink and—

“I don’t wanna abandon you, name.” You only laugh at Shoko, giving her two firm thumbs up, nudging her forward again, and still, she stands there contemplating. That is, until the redhead turns around and locks eyes with Shoko.

Oh, she’s far gone already.

“Don’t leave my peripheral.” Shoko kisses the side of your cheek and begins to saunter off, just as the song playing in the club changes to a softer, more sensual song.

There’s something about parties. Something that gives you the uneasy feeling two specific people could pop up at any time – two people you’re trying very hard to make clear to that you’re your own woman.

What makes a grown man wanna cry?

You slide back to the spot on the dancefloor you and Shoko shared moments ago, and with a sigh of near relief, you let the music transcend you to a different realm. Your body sways among the masses, a tinge of alcohol probably clouding your judgement because on any other occasion you’d find dancing in public embarrassing—

When it’s time, when it’s time, when it’s time, it won’t matter

There’s a sense of complete euphoria that washes over you, and before you know it, a slender arm snakes around your waist. And despite your better judgement, you know who it is before you look over your shoulder.

It’s an eerily intimate thing, feeling the chill of the six eyes raking over you.

You’re sure Suguru must be the only other person to feel how it feels, the goosebumps that rise on your flesh, hair standing on end. But not in fear. In something else entirely—

“You’re so pretty.” Satoru whispers against the edge of your ear. He doesn’t sound drunk. At the very least he barely sounds tipsy, just a small slur of speech in between, and you look over your shoulder at him.

“Prettier than you?” You stop moving and let out a laugh, and he goes brainless. Crystalline orbs stare down at you, and he pulls your body flush against him, pressing his body into yours from behind.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles and your body sways, resuming with the rhythm of the blaring music. A whisper of the lyrics leaves his mouth, and you nearly forget how he knows the song — must’ve been in one of Suguru’s playlists. One of those playlists he keeps.

“Satoru—” you’re about to scold him, maybe tell him this is a thin line, one you’ve been toeing for too long.

Satoru brings his other arm around your waist, both his hands meeting in accord atop the flesh of your stomach. He waits for a beat, waits for you to tell him no, but it never comes.

I’m on the edge of something breaking

His head dips to your height, his hair tickles the back of your neck. You can feel the heat from his lips on your skin as he hums along to the lyrics. “Just feel it for a little...” He whispers.

Even in his tipsy but not-so-tipsy state, he knows exactly what he's doing. You think, maybe he’s always known. At least in body but not in mind.

If I keep going I won’t make it

A sigh escapes your lips, something akin to a breath of relief, like a weight lifts off your shoulders.

Satoru’s body grinds forward onto you, and your head tilts back onto his chest, a mouthful of lyrics leaving your mouth in a gasp. “Feels good, yeah?” He grins down at you, pleased, his voice a bit off-key in a more Satoru-like fashion.

“Didn’t know you knew the song,” the words leave your lips as you both lock eyes. He rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh of your shoulder playfully.

“Suguru plays it all the time—” He replies, then continues to hum along with the song, his voice barely sounding like his own. “It’s too sexy to not know.”

There’s a sense of comfort in not knowing the depth of what you feel in this moment.

Satoru spins you around to face him, and the breath leaves your lungs. And the moment in between knowing what your relationship is and not knowing all but fades to black.

And with the way he looks into your eyes, and leans forward, you think he just might break the line two.

And it’s all because of you—

The song fades out, to a more upbeat one, and Satoru’s hands fall limp at his sides. Suddenly, you remember how to breathe. And you swallow the lump in your throat, all while he gives you the signature goofy grin you’ve come to cherish.

You turn your head to look across the mini crowd, and Shoko is still there, one arm slung around the redhead as they both knock back shots.

Temporary. It’s no big deal, you and Satoru were just tipsy.

But that sense of relief is short-lived.

Embarrassingly so.

“Boo.” A sharp exhale leaves your lips as soon as you turn your head, and instead of Satoru staring down at you, your view is blocked by Suguru.

You look at him like a lost child, and he rears his head away to laugh at you. “Don’t look so scared, name.” He smirks, slyly, like Suguru always does when he’s taunting.

“You dumbass—” You breathe, a hand colliding with the edge of his shoulder in a soft shove and Satoru can’t help but laugh at the sight before him.

Then, Suguru’s fingers wrap around your wrist, two, then four then he’s tugging you forward, straight into him and Satoru. “Don’t be so mean to me, you’ll break my heart.” He says it so condescendingly, with such a smile that makes your heart leap at your current predicament.

Satoru really wasn’t done. He just brought in reinforcements.

“As if—” You grumble, and the lights dim for a second before flashing a neon purple. And that’s all the time Satoru and Suguru need.

“—I have a heart?” Suguru towers over you, and he bends his knees just a little, resting his chin against your shoulder so you can hear him. “Or as if you could break it?”

You think Suguru’s been smoking. The warmth of his breath against your bare skin makes you shiver a little. You think you feel a little dizzy just from looking at him.

The way his eyes are downcast, eyelids heavy, like he’s bordering on the precipice of eternal sleep or the best dream he’s ever had, one he doesn't want to wake from.

He looks at you like you're the latter rather than the former.

Satoru swings his hand forward, interlocking his fingers with yours, pale slender digits finding purchase between yours as he moves to your side. “As if to both.” He rolls his eyes, and Suguru lets out a soft whistle, “You’re so cold, Satoru.”

The song playing begins to fade out, and Suguru takes advantage of the few seconds before the song switches, that small gap of silence, and he whispers, “Dance with us..?”

“Duh.” You grab ahold of Suguru’s hand with your free one, all while Satoru’s grip on your other hand tightens just a little. “Who else would I dance with?”

These things are no secret, never have been and never will be. And you have a funny feeling you know why your love life remains so stagnant.

How does the old age thing go? Never let your girl have a boy bestfriend. Or worse, two.

The three of you saunter to the middle of the dancefloor, the neon lights flashing shades of blue.

And if you didn’t know better, you’d say whoever the DJ is, they’ve got a sick sense of humor.

Because they manage to play the most romantically erotic song you could ever hear in a club setting. Ironically, a song you recognize from your playlist — no doubt you learned it from one of Suguru’s tracklists. A very extensive one titled with a leaf emoji.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

Suguru’s arm moves to wrap around your waist from in front, and he tugs you close as the soft tempo reverberates through the room. He shrugs some of his hair off his shoulder, dark eyes finding yours and he doesn’t dare look away for a second.

Suguru must think you're a pipe dream. That you’ll disappear if he blinks.

Your bodies rock from side to side and Satoru doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he slides behind you, following the rhythm you and Suguru have set in tune, raising your intertwined hands to his lips, and for a moment he uses them as a makeshift microphone to sing—

La-la-la-la-la

Suguru grins and he presses his chin atop your head, his other arm coming around to hug you close to his chest, while Satoru meets you both halfway, and it’s really just a sandwich swaying side to side with you in the middle.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

What initially started off as something so simple, you coming to a club with Shoko wanting to finally get laid since your best friends managed to scare all the guys off — has turned into something so soft, so intimate.

There are never many words, never much explanation when you’re with Satoru and Suguru.

And it’s clear none of the three of you know what this is or where you stand. But for now, that’s okay.

La-la-la-la-la

“You okay?” Suguru dips his head to mumble into your ear, and you nod, words failing you.

In truth, you’ve never felt so soft, so safe yet so… vulnerable. But that’s also okay.

Satoru cranes his neck and leans his body over yours to look between you and Suguru, having not heard a thing. “You two okay?”

And you laugh. Suguru does too.

Suguru’s arms around you keeps you grounded against him, and Satoru’s weight against your back keeps you firm between them. “If you need us to stop… if you need a drink I can—” Suguru tries, but you cut him off with a soft pat to his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” you mimic Satoru’s words from earlier as your own into Suguru’s chest and he melts. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah.” You affirm, and he nods, his chin going back to rest atop your head. And you wrap a free arm around Suguru’s middle, the other still softly interlaced with Satoru’s at your side. “M’ happy here.”

“In the club?” Suguru asks, albeit a little louder so you can hear him an amused smile slipping onto his features. “No, just—” Your words fail you. But this, there can’t be any intent without feeling, true unbiased feeling.

And you feel it, coursing through you in soft waves for them.

That unbiased wavy feeling, almost like you’re floating. That feeling for them. Though you don’t quite know what to call it yet.

“Here,” you mumble and a smile stretches onto your face. “With you, and Satoru too.”

Suguru stops swaying a bit, and at the change in movement Satoru stops too, peering over your shoulder to see what’s happening.

But Suguru only grins a little. “I’m happy too,” he says. Then he glances at Satoru, and Satoru glances to you. “I guess if you two are so happy, then me too.” Satoru chuckles.

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fic

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bedoballoons · 6 months

Note

Had a thought of Lyney and Lynette finding angel reader with broken wings after a performance

- sorry if my English is bad

You're english isn't bad at all and I absolutely love your idea! The only thing I wasn't sure about is if one of the siblings was supposed to be a romantic interest or not, so just in case I kept the romance to a minimum! Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Falling~༺}

CW: Mentions of broken wings, reader is a angel!

(Includes: Lyney and Lynette!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney and Lynette:

"Lyney!" Lynette called out to her brother, her normally monotone voice suddenly filled with worry and fear, even with the crowd clapping in the background she could hear her own heart racing loudly in her chest. She couldn't take her eyes off of you...off of your wings that sprawled away from your body in crooked positions like a birds after it had crash landed..and your face that was so pale that if she didn't see your soft breathing she would have assumed you were dead.

Lyney hurried to his sisters aid, stopping mid step when he caught sight of you, "Lynette...what what is this?" She shook her head, not knowing how to answer as she kneeled down beside you, hand gently reaching out to touch your feathers. It caught her off guard...how real they were, how crazy this all was, "It sounds unbelievable...but Lyney these wings...are real. Is that even possible?"

The magician followed suit, kneeling beside his twin to examine up close...only to confirm her findings, "Well I suppose it has to be. I mean you have cat ears and a tail...who says a person can't have wings? Bright...white, beautiful wings. Reminds me of angels in story books." He carefully moved your wing, trying his best not inflict pain as he got it ready to be wrapped up. It was the least he could do after all their gawking and prodding, "Lynette could you get me some bandages?"

"...do you think they are actually a angel?" She looked at Lyney with magical glint in her eye, images of angels with halos and sweet smiles playing in her mind as she grabbed the first aid kit nearby. If you really were such a amazing creature...she secretly hoped you'd tell her all about it over a cup of tea and maybe even show her what your halo looked like.

"I'm not sure, I suppose we can ask them once they wake up. I was considering taking them to get medical assistance but...maybe it would be better to keep them a secret for now. I don't want them getting hurt more than they already have." Lyney was gentle with your wings, bandaging them up softly before lifting you off the ground and carrying you bridal style to a stage couch that had been left over from a previous show.

A slight blush coated his cheeks as took another look at your sleeping figure, you were beautiful in every sense of the word...hurt and broken but still somehow bright and goregous. He hoped you'd wake up soon so he could tell you as such and hopefully learn your name...maybe even how you had come to crash land outside, but for now he'd watch over you alongside his sister and remember all the stories of angels he'd ever read.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin x you #lyney x reader #lyney headcanons #lyney fluff #lyney x you #lyney genshin #lyney and lynette #lynetteheadcanons #lynette x reader #lynette genshin #lynette x you #lynette fluff

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rainydayathogwarts · 30 days

Text

Open arms - Emily Prentiss

Smut - the way this fic has been sitting half written in my drafts forever. Go me for finally getting it done. Summary: Emily can't help but approach her ex in a dimly-lit bar wc: 2.1k

Emily thought that the night would be nice and relaxing for her and the team, celebrating another closed case at their favourite bar, their laughter drowning out the sounds of other people's conversations in the dim-lit restaurant. That was until her eyes locked in on a familiar figure standing near the bar, most definitely accompanied by someone. Emily froze, her hand tightly gripping her drink, and audibly gasped when you turned around, exposing your face to her.

"Y/n?" She whispered, catching Penelope and Derek's attention, who both turned to look at her. "You okay there Prentiss?" But she really wasn't. You were her only partner who ever stayed up waiting for her to come home from a case, genuinely concerned about her. You held her in your arms, letting her just sit there and open up if she wanted to. If she didn't, it didn't bother you, and you showered her with love nonetheless, always managing to pull a smile from her. And you were definitely the best in bed. Having you withering under her, relentlessly crying out her name was an image Emily would never forget.

She regretted leaving you every day, but it would keep you safe. After seeing what Hotch had to go through, she knew it was the smartest decision. Now that you were there though, in person after over a year of being apart, she wouldn't be able to stay away from you. If you would let her that was. She remembered your reaction, how you completely broke down, calling bullshit on her 'keeping you safe' excuse.

"I'm fine." She said, bringing herself out of her trance to take a long sip of her drink. "That an ex of yours?" Derek questioned, looking at you, now talking to a friend. You looked gorgeous, he thought. Your short black dress showed off your long legs and had a low cut to display your biggest weapon, the heels you wore flexing your calf muscles in the nicest way possible. Your stunning smile exposed your white teeth while a hand flipped your hair over your shoulder. He wondered how a dumbass like Emily was able to get you.

Emily's head shot back in your direction when she heard coughing, only to find out it was you, your face now going red as you choked on your drink, your friend, who Emily now realised she knew from when you dated, rubbing your back. Oh no... When the coughing stopped, you immediately looked back at her, confirming your suspicions. She returned your eye contact, awkwardly waving at you before you were suddenly facing away from her, refusing for the interaction to continue, earning a sympathetic look from your friend.

Emily heard a chorus of "Oof" and "Oh"s from the team, who were all cringing at the interaction. "Shut up." Emily groaned, stealing a shot from in front of Derek and downing it. She coughed twice, ignoring Derek's complaints, and turned to Spencer who was now telling them a statistic about exes. "It was actually found that 44% of Americans get back with their exes at some point after breaking up. And that only includes relationships post-break up instead of one night stands, so I'd say your chances are pretty high."

As much as Emily was unimpressed that Reid was giving her dating advice, she found herself walking up to you the minute your friend left, leaving you alone at the bar. Better me than anyone else shooting their shot, she thought. It was only when she stood right next to you that she realised she had no idea what to say and that the entire team was probably watching their interaction. She cleared her throat, muttering a small "Hey." You jumped slightly, rotating on the bar stool to face your ex-girlfriend. Emily expect you to frown, thrown your drink in her face even, but to her shock, you cracked a small smile at her. "Hey Em". "Can I sit?" She asked, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

You nodded, watching her as she sat. She looked different. She had cut her hair into bangs and wore her hair pin straight instead of the loose curls she'd put them in. She wore a low cut black top with black jeans as well as her go to combat boots. You assumed she came here straight from work. When you looked back up at her face, she was still staring at you, her gaze stuck on your thighs. "Um, can I get you a drink or something?" Her head shot up and she shook it "No, I've had enough to drink. Thanks." A long awkward silence followed and you looked over at the table she had come from, watching as all of her friends' heads shot in the opposite direction apart from one of them, still cluelessly observing you.

"I'm sorry - I shouldn't have-" "No!" You cut her off, cheeks going rosy. "Why don't we go for a walk or something?"

That walk led you both to the side of the road, waiting for a taxi as you made small talk, no discussion of going to either of your apartments until you were both sat in the back of the taxi on the way to your flat. Emily's hand rested on your thigh, both of your sides pressed against each other, faces mere inches apart as her free hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to her. You felt your desire for Emily grow, squeezing your thighs together to get any amount of friction.

Emily's eyes caught the movement, smiling slightly as she felt her own core heat up for you. She leaned towards you to look out of the window, pressing her tits up against you as she tried to see how far away you were from the apartment, making small talk while you waited. The second the taxi driver pulled the car over, she was tossing her money at him and following you out of the car, both her hands resting on your hips as you led her into your fancy building and towards the elevator. The second you were in the elevator, pressing the button to the right floor, her hands were wrapping around your waist and she was pressing her lips against the soft skin of your neck.

You grabbed her hand when the elevator doors opened, leading the way to your apartment and frantically opening and shutting the door before you turned around, throwing yourself into Emily's arms. You slammed your lips onto hers, wrapping your arms around her neck as you pressed your body against hers. Her hands were immediately under the skirt of your dress, groping the fat of your ass in her hands. You pulled away from the kiss, muttering "couch" to Emily, who complied, bending down slightly so she could wrap her arms around the back of your legs and picking you up.

You squealed as she walked you over to your big couch, having forgotten about her FBI agent strength. She dropped you on the couch, crawling over you but you pushed her back so she fell flat on her back on the large couch, throwing a leg over her hips to straddle her. She tried sitting up but you pushed her back, kissing her again so she would give in, letting you take control of the kiss. Her hands trailed up your body until they reached your tits and she tugged at the front of your dress, letting them spill out the front of it. You gasped, and she took your shock to her advantage, throwing her hips up into yours and rolling over so she was on top of you.

Her hands were instantly on your tits, pulling and twisting at your nipple, the other one in her mouth. "Em, Emily!" You begged, trying to grind your hips into hers but she wouldn't listen, taking her time kissing all over your body. When she couldn't reach any more skin due to the fabric of your dress, she fully separated from you, ordering you to turn around so she could undo the zipper. So you got up onto your knees, allowing Emily to undo your dress and pull it above your head, before her hands were wandering again, down your stomach and into the skimpy panties you wore.

She moaned into your ear, feeling how wet you were before both her hands were at your hips again and she was tugging you towards her as she fell backwards, landing you in her laps. She welcomed your kisses, tightly gripping your hips as you ground your cunt on her jean-clad skin. Eventually, you got desperate, tugging her shirt up so you could feel underneath it, hungrily reaching for her tits. At your whine, she finishes the job for you, tossing her shirt somewhere in the room before your hands were back behind her, unclasping her bra.

Before you manage to throw yourself onto Emily even further, you feel her hand under your panties, immediately searching for your clit, which she finds in mere seconds. You hear yourself begging for her, struggling to hold yourself above her. Emily's hands manhandle you so your back in pressed against hers, your legs spread in front of you. Her hands begin wandering once more, and she inserts two fingers into your warm core. You cry out, arching your back as Emily continues to suck hickeys onto your neck.

Her unoccupied hand plays with your tits, alternating which one she massages. Your head rests in the crook of her next, trying not to buck your hips into her hand as she continues fingering you. Your chest heaves with each breath you take, and you're too far into pleasure land to think of how much of a mistake you were making. You feel the familiar knot building up in your stomach and whimper, your hands reaching below you to grasp Emily's thigh. Moaning loudly with an arch of your back, you cum on Emily's hand. Emily, who is whispering praises in your ear and brushing your hair out of your face with her free hand.

With the effects of your orgasm now gone and you catching your breath, you begin to internally cringe. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? You will yourself to turn around in Emily's arms, whispering "Your turn", fully aware that she wouldn't say yes. "No baby, it's okay. This is just about you." You nod, allowing yourself to fall onto the couch beside her. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Dragging yourself up from the couch, your legs still shaking, you shut the bathroom door before Emily gets the time to follow you.

You wrap a free towel around your torso, mentally cussing yourself out, thinking of a way to get Emily out of your house. The clock on the wall reads 3:28. It's late. You should go home. Repeating the words to yourself, you open the bathroom door to be met with the tall brunette. She smiles widely, a hand coming to your hip to bring you close and kiss you softly. You return her kiss but can't bring yourself to do the same with a smile. She senses the change in your behaviour and you take that as your chance to tell her: "It's late. You should go." You look down and away from her face so you can't see the way her smile drops. "Right. Um, this was fun." Your hum is enough of an answer to her and you practically chase her to the door once she's fully clothed.

Once the door is shut behind her, you peek through the peep hole to see her bring a hand up to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. She calls someone on the phone, someone you can only imagine was at the table with her at the bar. Listening closely through the door, you hear "No Derek, I did not win her heart back. She's really done with me."

But it's late. You should go sleep.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #rainydayathogwarts #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss angst #angst #female reader #smut #criminal minds #criminalmindsfandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminalminds #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fic #derek morgan #criminal minds smut #spencer reid

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levitiquee · 7 months

Note

Hiii! Idk if you accept requests but I decided to try and ask you anyway… I’ve read an amazing fan fiction in which Levi and the reader were secretly together and the reader was his lieutenant… Sooo, could I ask a Levi x lieutenant reader were the reader gets injured while outside the walls and like, Levi can’t show he cares too much cause he’s like “cold ice captain Levi” but he’s like worried for her?

I’ve been a lil sick lately and I wanted to cheer myself up a bit… Thank youuu! ❤️❤️

Hiii, I hope you're feeling better now, love <33

Levi pulled on the reins, coming to a stop in front of Erwin.

"All back?" He asked, glancing around the scouts spread all around.

"Almost." Erwin replied, giving a slight nod of acknowledgement to Levi. "Just recovering the fallen."

This was the worst part, Levi thought. After the expeditions. People die during, that was known. But it doesn't really sink in when you're more focused on saving your own life. But after, once it's all over and time to go back, when you're wrapping your friends' remains in the white fabric, it finally hits. All that you've lost and gained almost nothing in return.

He watched the slumped figures of the survivors. They fought hard to make it out, but their faces showed no sign of relief, only guilt. Blank, empty and tired expressions. They've seen it before and yet, they never get used to it.

He stared at Petra, who was comforting a younger scout, possibly a new recruit. The latter was green, eyes red rimmed. Gunther stood by, watching the two with a grim expression.

Levi looked away. What an unpleasant sight.

But where were you?

He only realized then, why he felt so uneasy. There was a strange emptiness surrounding him but he had been too absorbed into the mission to spare much attention to it. But now in the calm after the storm, he realized it was the lack of you.

You weren't with him.

But you were always there with him. Why weren't you now?

Levi frowned. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen you or even when you slipped away. He had just assumed you were by him, as always.

But how long had you been gone and he hadn't realized it?

"Medics!" A sharp yell jolted him out of his thoughts. "Medics over here!"

He turned around towards the sound. It was Moblit, running towards him, face scrunched up in concern. And he was holding something, something bloody, something limp, something.... someone?

And he realized when Moblit's eyes locked onto his, the usually calm man's eyes were wide, panic stricken.

In Moblit's arms were you.

And for a second he didn't move. He couldn't move.

He stared, blurred figures rushing past him towards you as Moblit laid you and your face came into view. And he could only stare, his heart going quieter..and quieter..

Time had stopped around him.

Blood pounded in his ears.

And slowly, hesitantly, he slid down his horse, and the feel of the ground beneath his feet finally kicked start his heart.

Sounds crashed to him like a wave, drowning him.

And his legs moved, unwillingly, every nerve in his body warning him to turn away, to walk away, because the sight would only confirm it.

But not you. It couldn't have been you.

You were with him, just hours ago.

It can't have been you.

Yet when he heard the sound of your name, hushed whispers coming from the crown, he knew it was you.

He finally reached the small crowd of people, they immediately backed away, parting a way at his arrival. Murmurs brushed past, but he could hardly focus on the words.

There you laid, head resting on one of the medics' lap as they tried their best to fix you, wrapping bandages hastily around your head. The grass underneath you was scarlet–with your blood, he realized. Your blood. You were bleeding. Uncontrollably. Why were you bleeding how could you be bleeding you weren't supposed to be fucking bleeding—

"Captain!" Petra's alarmed voice reached his ears and he turned his head towards her, who had her mouth covered by her hands, eyes wide. "Captain, the blood–it's too much—"

"How the hell did this even happen–" Oruo let out a curse under his breath. "Wasn't the idiot supposed to be with captain–"

Levi swallowed, fingers digging into his palm.

You were supposed to be with him.

Not wrapped in bandages. Not lying in a pool of your own blood.

And as if you had somehow heard his thoughts, you opened your eyes, just a crack. They flickered rapidly, hazy gaze frantically moving as if searching for something. And then it landed on him and a ragged sigh of relief brushed past your lips.

"...Levi?" A whisper.

And then your eyes fell shut again.

Silence fell. Levi stiffened, staring straight at your face. People were rigid and even the medics froze. Eyes bounced from your face to Levi's, whether it was just delirious ramble, the direct address to the captain had shocked everyone.

Levi didn't say anything. And even if he was surprised, his face showed no sign of it, it was as blank and expressionless as it had always been.

Not a single crack in his composure to see one of his most important soldiers lying on their deathbed.

Levi only shot a glance at one of the medics, raising a brow.

"Sir," The white clad figure hastened to speak, immediately understanding the gesture. "We stopped the bleeding. It should be alright. Though when she'd regain consciousness again.."

Levi nodded, turning on his heels and walking away, leaving the crowd gaping at him.

"Weren't they close? Friends even?" He heard soft murmurs. "He looks barely fazed."

"That's captain Levi. What did you expect?" Another hissed.

"Levi." Erwin was staring at him as he slid back up to his horse, the question clear underneath the statement.

"She'll live." Levi replied tonelessly.

"Captain."

Levi froze, snapping his head towards the familiar, familiar voice.

There you were, standing besides Hange. You only gave a slight nod while Hange grinned, waving at him.

"Look, look, Levi!" Hange beamed, pointing at you. "She's all better now, aren't you glad?"

Levi stared at you, eyes scanning your face. Dark circles framed your eyes and your face was ashened. Your head was still wrapped in bandages but it seemed you're well enough to move now, to at least be released from the hospital.

He hadn't seen you for 2 weeks.

And Levi wasn't just glad, he was fucking relieved, but his face showed no sign of it, as expressionless as ever. As if he could hardly care.

"Well, you look like shit." He said, his voice flat.

There was a glimmer of amusement behind your eyes but you bit back the grin. "Pleasure as always, captain." You replied politely.

Hange was more offended than you. They gaped at Levi, horrified. "Oi Levi," They gasped. "Can't you be nicer? Kid almost died, for walls sake."

Levi glanced at Hange, eyes blank. "Well, she's walking around just fine."

"But—" Hange protested, but he turned to you.

"You." He said, frowning.

"Yes, sir?" You asked.

"Get back to work as soon as you can. You're already lagging behind." He said, turning to leave.

"Hey—that's all you got to say?!" Hange yelled at him as he walked out of sight. "He's so weird. And rude too." They murmered, glancing at you. "I don't even know why you're in his squad. He treats you like shit. You can come join my squad you know?"

"He treats everyone like shit, Hange." You shrugged, your eyes still towards the way he left. "That's captain Levi for you."

You were walking down a corridor when a door creaked open besides you. And before you could even realize, something wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into the small dark room.

And then arms wrapped around you, trapping you in a strong embrace, almost suffocating you. You would've been scared had you not recognized his scent.

You coughed, caught off guard by the sudden grip. You lightly tapped against his arms. "Capt—Levi." You spluttered. "This is very sweet and shit, but I need air."

He let you go, but his hands still gripped your shoulders hard.

"You fucking idiot." He hissed. "How the fuck did you even get hurt?"

"You're so nice to me." You grumbled, not without a hint of affection.

"I'm serious. Do you have any fucking idea how worried I was?"

"No, sorry. I was busy being half-dead."

"Don't." He sighed, his voice returning back to his usual volume. He sounded exhausted. "Don't even joke about that."

"The broom closet? Really?" You grinned, looking around to realize what the tiny space was.

He scrunched his face. "Don't blame me." He said. "Why is Hange always following you, christ. Are you my squad member or theirs? I had to wait all fucking day to get you alone."

"You really could've just called me to your office—"

"With the brats piping in every 10 seconds? There's no privacy in this damn facility." He huffed.

The darkness was finally starting to settle over your eyes and now that you had a better chance to look at him more carefully, you realized, he looked exhausted.

"I've been away for a few days and you look like you're about to drop dead." You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Guess who's fucking fault that is?"

"Awh, you couldn't sleep cause you were worried about me?" You smiled.

"Don't look so smug." He said, but didn't deny it.

"So worried, but you didn't even visit me for all of 2 weeks I've been stuck in the hospital."

"Because you're always surrounded by people." He said exasperatedly. "Whenever I went. It's always Nanaba, or Hange. Petra."

"Yeah but, you could've just peeked by—" You said, almost sadly. "I missed you."

He sighed. "People would've talked."

You pouted. "A captain visiting his half dead lieutenant, oh the scandal."

He looked at you, noticing your expression. He frustratedly ran his hands through his hair, frowning.

"Believe me, I wanted to." He mumbled. "But I'm afraid I surely would've caused a scandal."

"Yes?" Your mouth tugged slightly, your sad face giving out.

"Don't think I could've resisted kissing the shit out of you." He sighed, face flushing at the admission. "Holy shit, I was so scared."

" 'Humanity's strongest' has questionable self-control it appears." You raised a brow.

"When it's you?" He shook his head, leaning to press his forehead against yours. And when he closed his eyes, his long lashes almost touched your face. "Walls, I'm pathetic."

You grinned, patting his head.

"Missed you." He mumbled quietly, his breathing was slow, shoulders relaxed. As if with you was the only ever time he could breathe properly.

"Missed you too." You said softly.

And for a few seconds, you two just stood there, in a peaceful silence, listening to each other breath and breathing in the presence of each other.

And then the bliss was gone.

"Has anyone seen captain Levi?" A voice floated in through the crack of the door. "He's not in his office."

"Fucking hell." Levi cursed under his breath, raising his head.

"You better go." You giggled silently, shoulders shaking. "You don't want them finding you here, do you?"

Levi cringed internally, but stood up straight, brushing his clothes. "I swear if it isn't something important..." He muttered, daekly. Then looked up at you. "As for you, drop by my office later tonight. You need to catch up on your work." He spared a glance at you.

"I assure you, captain, lots of work would be done." You grinned, giving him a mock two-finger salute.

He grimaced, but his face flushed.

"Also." He reached for the doorknob. "Next time in an expedition you leave my side, I'm breaking your fucking legs."

@sad-darksoul @anxious-chick @raginginferno267

#i'm lazy #is this weird #kind of ooc?#aot #levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi heichou #snk #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot fandom #captain levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi fluff #levi thoughts

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stop-talking · 2 months

Text

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 1)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.5k words

Tags: 18+, mike x reader, no use of y/n, exes, enemies, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, pet names, banter, angst, so much angst, flashing mike, fluff, spending time with Abby (because everyone always forgets her??)

Part 2

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Mike holds his breath as the phone rings. He's already gone down the mental checklist of people who he could possibly call for help right now, and is currently scraping the bottom of the goddamn barrel.

*click* "Hello?"

He speaks hurriedly into the dingy landline phone, praying you won't immediately dismiss him.

"Hey, it's Mike. Please don't hang up."

You're tempted to hang up on him then and there, just to prove a point. You guys broke up nearly a year ago, and hadn't spoken in... what, six months now? But the tone in his voice... he sounded desperate.

"What, drunk and lonely again?" You scoff, unable to resist taking a jab at him. You two hadn't exactly ended things on good terms, his lack-of-sleep induced grumpiness and general unpleasant disposition making it hard for him to take criticism without it turning into an argument. It wasn't your fault he never made time for you. It wasn't your fault he was so emotionally unavailable.

"No." He grits his teeth, already regretting calling you. "I need a favor. Please." He chokes the word out, his stomach in knots from having to resort to this.

You pause for a few moments, chewing on his words. It must really be serious if he'd called you, after all the things you'd said to him last time you spoke.

"Well... lets hear it, then."

"I need you to watch Abby tonight. My usual babysitter isn't answering the damn phone, and I have to leave for work in an hour. I can't leave Abby home alone. I just can't."

In an hour? You glance at the clock, it's already 8:30. What ungodly hours is he working?

"I thought you didn't work nights? I swear to god, Schmidt, if you're making me watch her so you can go get laid-"

"No. Nothing like that. I swear." He sighs, sounding genuinely exhausted. "I'm working as a security guard these days. Night gig. Long story. It sucks ass, but I need this job. Can you watch Abby? I'll owe you one."

You bite back the urge to scoff at him. He's not even going to pay you? Figures. Oh well. Holding a favor over his head might be fun.

"Ugh. Fine. I'll see. What time will you get back? I have work in the morning."

"6:15. Maybe 6:10, if I drive like a maniac."

"Shit. I'll have to get ready for work at your place. If I go home first I'll be late."

"Yeah, sure. Anything. Just please stay with Abby. She goes to sleep at 10, you can crash on the couch. I just want someone in the house with her."

You let out an audible sigh. Are you seriously going to go crash on your shitty ex-boyfriend's shitty couch on a work night?

...Yeah, yeah you are.

"Damn it, Mike. You'd better kiss my fucking feet when I get there."

Mike almost laughs at that. Almost.

"Sure thing, Princess." He cant help but taunt you a bit, using an old pet name he used to call you way back when you were dating. It probably wasn't the best decision to irritate the last person he could rely on, but he wasn't in the right headspace to make good decisions right now. These days, he mostly runs off of coffee and self-hatred.

"I'll be there in 30. You'd better be on your knees and groveling when you open the door." You slam the phone down before he can answer. Michael fucking Schmidt. Still the same jackass you broke up with all those months ago.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike opens the door to greet you almost exactly 30 minutes later, he reluctantly drops to his knees. He'd hoped you'd forgotten the silly request, but the unamused look you gave him said otherwise.

"Fucking witch." He grumbles, hanging his head as you brush past him into the house. Were you wearing... pajama pants? He stares at you as you set down your things, a purse and what looks like an overnight bag of some sort.

"Stop gaping. And stand up. You look pathetic." You shrug off your coat, revealing an old t-shirt underneath. Yeah, you were in pajamas, so what? Its late. And you couldn't be bothered to put in extra effort for Mike, of all people.

"Excuse me for doing as her majesty commands." He groans and stands up, brushing himself off. As if that'll make him look any more presentable.

Abby tentatively pokes her head out of her room, watching you and Mike argue. Shit. Did she hear all that?

"Hey Abbs." You wave to her, deciding to ignore Mike's comment. "It's gonna be just me and you tonight, sound good?"

She looks to Mike for approval, who nods and gives her a tired smile. The only kind of smile he's been able to muster lately.

"...Will you play with me?"

"Yeah, 'course I will. Let me have a chat with your brother real quick." She seems to accept that answer, closing herself back off in her room. You sigh and follow Mike into the kitchen.

"There's leftovers in the fridge, and a lasagna in the freezer. Probably have something edible in the pantry. I think there's popcorn." He explains, pointing out a few different measly options for a quick meal. "Look, she probably won't, but just try and get her to eat dinner."

You watch him lean back against the counter and rub at his temples. God damn, he looks... exhausted. His hair has grown out a bit since you last saw him, dark brown curls hanging low over his forehead. His eye bags seem to hang even lower.

"Yeah... I'll try and get her to eat."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air as you both run out of things to talk about, so he fills the void with an insult.

"You really had to come over in that?" Mike scoffs and gestures at your frumpy t-shirt and pajama pants.

"What? Were you hoping for something slutty?" You cross your arms and give him a smug look.

He turns his head, unsure what to say to that. Maybe part of him did hope to see you dressed in something a little more revealing. Or maybe just undressed. God damn it, was he blushing?

"Fuck you." He mutters, making his way to the entryway and slipping his shoes on.

"No thanks. Been there, done that." You respond dismissively, watching him leave with a smirk.

Mike slams the door on his way out. Not hard enough to startle Abby, hopefully, but hard enough to make a point he's not in the mood to play your little games. Still, the whole drive to work, he can't help but wonder what if...? What if you had never broken up with him? What if he had been a better boyfriend? A better provider for you and Abby? A better man?

"I fucking hate her." He grumbles, but the words are hollow.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Mike told me you stopped coming over because he found out you're a witch and you curse children. Is that true?" Abby finally musters up the courage to ask the question that's been on her mind ever since you walked through the door.

"Did he say that?" You chuckle, a little shocked that this is what she chose to ask after ten minutes or so of silently coloring together.

"Yeah. He said you cursed him, too. And that's why he can't color anymore. He'll explode, or something." She babbles, not looking up from her paper.

"Hmm... well, if you're really worried about your brother, I'll cut you a deal." You do your best to keep the anger from your tone as you continue to color beside her at the table. That asshole doesn't color with Abby anymore?

"...What kind of deal?"

"I'll lift the curse on your brother so he can color and draw again... but you have to eat dinner. Ten whole bites."

Abby seems to consider this for a moment, turning and eyeing you suspiciously. Mike likes to mess with her like this. Were you messing with her too? Probably. But, well, if it would make Mike spend time with her again...

"Fine. What do we have?"

You smile at her. This babysitting stuff is a breeze.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike stumbles in the door the next morning, he spots you fast asleep on the couch. He flops down in the recliner and just watches you sleep for a minute or two. You look so pretty when you're asleep. Serene. Peaceful. Not at all like when you're awake, giving him that attitude he's so familiar with. He sighs and makes his way over to the couch, knowing he should probably wake you for work.

"Uhh... wakey wakey?" He mumbles lamely, unsure what to really say. Definitely not good morning, beautiful. He scoffs to himself at the thought.

"Mmm... Mike?" You blink up at the man gently shaking your shoulder, your eyes adjusting to the morning light.

"Yeah. Who else would it be?" He shakes his head in amusement and goes back to sit in the recliner.

"I dunno. A hookup?" You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, then stretch out.

"A hookup? Still being passed around, then?" He responds with a scoff, trying to hide just how much that answer bothers him. Even after nearly a year of being broken up, he doesn't like to imagine you with other men. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, even if he's not into you anymore. Actually, you don't look half-bad right now, stretching your arms over your head like that...

"Can you blame a girl? Had to make up for all the unsatisfying nights with you."

Mike reeled at that little quip. The smug look on your face, god... He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to shut you up with a kiss or a punch.

"Just fucking go home." Nice one, Mike. That'll show her.

"Hey, you agreed I could get ready here. I'm gonna go use your shower, and then I have something to talk to you about."

Something to talk to him about? He scowls as you walk off towards his bedroom. Why couldn't you just leave him alone? Why did everything have to be so complicated? He groans and goes to lie down in bed. Maybe he could get in a quick nap while you shower. Maybe.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You emerge from the dingy bathroom connected to Mike's bedroom fifteen minutes or so later, steam trailing in behind you.

"Three-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash? Seriously, Schmidt?" You scold him, crossing your arms as you stand before his bed wearing nothing but a towel. At first, he seems annoyed when you pull him out of his brooding, but when he takes in your current state of undress, he sputters.

"S-so? Its economical." He scoffs, irritated, but unable to look away as you make your way around his bed and out the door.

You return a minute later carrying your overnight bag. "Forgot my clothes." Mike just nods, still unable to tear his eyes from you.

"Stop staring."

"Stop waltzing through my room naked."

"This isn't naked." You gesture to the towel wrapped around your body, drawing his attention back to you.

"This is naked."

Mike watches in complete shock as you let the towel fall to the floor, completely baring yourself to him for a few moments before finally locking yourself in his bathroom. You hear him mutter a few curses on the other side of the door, and smile as you get changed.

"Was that really necessary?" Mike scowls at you when you emerge from his bathroom a few minutes later, now fully dressed.

"Calm down, Mikey. Not like you haven't seen it all before." The old nickname you used to call him by doesn't sound endearing anymore. It sounds taunting. Mike looks like he cant decide between kicking you out of the house or pulling you into his bed. Good to know you can still get under his skin. And maybe his bedsheets, if you wanted.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He finally asks, sighing in defeat.

"C'mon. I'll tell you."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Mike sits in the recliner, watching you set up a bunch of unnecessary crap on his coffee table. Did you really have to do your makeup right in front of him?

"A witch, Mike? Seriously? You told her I'm a witch, and then left her alone with me for the night?"

Mike swallows. Shit. He honestly forgot about that, it was just some lame excuse he came up with right after the breakup back when he was still distraught.

"Am I wrong?" He tries to brush it off with a sassy comment, but folds when he sees your intense glare.

"I mean... uh... I'll tell her you're... not a witch..." Real smooth, Schmidt. Mumble and stare at the floor.

"It's not even about that, really. Feed her all the lies you want. What I'm upset about is that she told me you don't color with her anymore."

Mike finally meets your eyes as you apply yet another random powder he doesn't understand the purpose of to your cheeks with the swipe of a brush.

"I'm busy. And it's none of your business. I asked you to come be her babysitter, not her mom." He snarls, hands clenched into fists.

"I'm not trying to be. It just breaks my heart to hear that stuff from her, Mike. I told her I'd lift the 'curse' off of you if she ate her dinner, and she did. So consider yourself un-cursed."

Mike grits his teeth as you put air quotes around the word "curse". He knew you were right, and that bothered him more than the fact he was being a shitty brother. The worst part was, you weren't even being snarky, you just sounded genuinely concerned for Abby. God damn it.

"...Yeah. Fine. Un-cursed. Got it." He grumbles in agreement as you finish up your makeup and swipe the assortment of products into your purse.

"How do I look?"

He wanted to tell you that you looked gorgeous, that he missed having you around, attitude or not. But in this moment, he couldn't do it. He was too tired. Too angry.

"Like a whore."

"Someone's jealous he doesn't get any."

"Like I'd want you."

"Oh yeah, the raging boner you had earlier when you saw me in a towel was because you don't want me. Totally."

Oh, now you're just taunting him.

"I'll have you know that didn't happen till after you lost the towel." Mike scoffs as he follows you to the entryway, unlocking the door for you while you slip on your shoes.

"Don't lie to me, Mikey."

"I'd never dream of it, Princess."

Mike has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms as you leave for work. Maybe if you didn't look so goddamn smug, he would. Instead he just shuts the door and locks it, hating himself for how much he enjoyed this whole interaction.

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will probably write a part 2 (with smut??)

edit: here is part 2

(no smut. part 3 tho...??)

idk this was my first fanfic ever so enjoy

#josh hutcherson #mikeschmidt #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnafmovie #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson x reader #jhutch #mike x reader #no use of y/n #fnaf fic

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pedroscurls · 2 months

Text

second chances | pt. 1

Character(s): Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Summary: After a stressful past couple of days at work, Marcus is ready to spend his day off relaxing. Until he gets a new neighbor asking for his help. Word count: 1.3k A/N: I've become a Marcus Pike girlie and I can't go back now. Don't even get me started on Lisbon... So, I decided that Marcus Pike deserves a happy ending. Stay tuned and enjoy! Warning: None. SERIES MASTERLIST - ultimate masterlist

Since moving to Washington DC – alone – Marcus has busied himself with work. Long hours in the office. Late nights. Barely any sleep. It was his way of distracting himself from the fact that Lisbon had chosen Jane over him. Marcus wasn’t a jealous man, but he was filled with frustration at himself for seeing a future with someone who was so obviously in love with someone else.

Marcus was never going to be the one Lisbon chose.

And he should have known better.

Now, after six months of being in DC, Marcus’s colleagues finally convinced him to take the next couple of days off. Each day was getting better and better, but the pain still lingered.

He wakes that morning to the sound of a knock at his door. Marcus looks at the time; he’s usually awake and out of the door by six, but with today being his first day off, he had decided to sleep in a little bit. It’s only eight in the morning and Marcus wonders if he just stays in bed that maybe the person knocking on his door would just leave and after a few minutes, the knocking stops.

With a relieved sigh, Marcus sits up from bed and decides to get ready for the day. He isn’t yet sure what he has planned, but he does know that he wants to keep to himself, to minimize the amount of people he would need to talk to as much as possible. He stands from his bed and stretches his arms above his head, dressed in a white v-neck and plaid boxers.

“Coffee,” he mumbles to himself. “First thing’s first, need coffee.” Marcus runs a hand over his hair and walks out of his bedroom to the kitchen, beginning to make a pot of coffee for himself.

He looks around and lets out a sigh. He had imagined that his life in DC would be different, that he’d be with Lisbon, that she’d give more life into this home, but instead, he’s standing alone in a very bland and basic apartment. It has a nice view, but how nice could it be if you can’t share it with anyone else?

He walks to his patio and opens the sliding door. Marcus can hear the sounds of cars – honking and speeding – as it passes below him. He glances over to his right and Marcus can hear the chatter from his neighbor. He doesn’t remember someone living next to him, so he just assumes that it’s someone new moving in. Marcus just hopes that this new neighbor of his won’t keep him up at night.

His mind drifts to Lisbon and Marcus wonders what she’s doing. Her green eyes and smile had captured his attention from the moment he laid eyes on her. Marcus was sure that what he had with her was real, that it would be his second chance at love after his failed marriage, and for a while, Marcus believed that his life would be different when Lisbon agreed to move in with him to DC, then agreed to marry him.

Marcus never wanted to let her go.

His thoughts are interrupted when the coffee pot goes off and the knocking on his door begins again. Marcus figures that the person wouldn’t leave until he answers, so he walks towards his door and opens it. His eyes soften instantly at the sight of you and he’s now become so aware of what he’s wearing.

“Um–”

“Hi, I’m so sorry. I know it’s early and you’re probably getting ready for work, but I’m having trouble with moving my bed through the door and I just–” you take a deep breath, realizing that you must be rambling and that you’re asking a complete stranger to help you move.

“Let me start over,” you say. “Hi. Good morning. I’m your new next door neighbor,” you laugh nervously and then tell him your name.

The corner of Marcus’s lips lifts upwards and he nods, looking over your shoulder at the large bed that’s leaning against the wall. “Nice to meet you. I’m Marcus.” Then, he points to your bed. “You sure that’s gonna fit?”

“A bit too late for that, I think.” You blush. “I should have just hired movers, but I thought I could do this myself.”

“You’re in luck,” he chuckles. “It’s my day off and I have no plans whatsoever, so I’m happy to give you a hand. Let me just get dressed and I’ll be right out.”

Then, you look down at his frame and realize what he’s wearing. Your eyes slightly widen and the blush on your cheeks redden even further. “Oh right! I’m so sorry. I’ll just–” you clear your throat and point over your shoulder, turning on your heel and tripping over your feet. “See you in a bit.”

Marcus quietly chuckles to himself. He finds your clumsiness cute and he gives you one more glance before he shuts his door. He walks back into his bedroom and slips into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Marcus walks back into his kitchen and grabs two mugs, pouring the coffee he made into each cup before he walks out of his apartment. When he looks up at you, he smiles when he sees you trying to make the bed fit into the door all by yourself.

Eager, he thinks to himself. And independent.

“Hey,” Marcus calls out softly. “Here, take a break.” He hands you a mug of coffee.

You look up at him and smile, taking the mug from his hand and leaning against the wall with a sigh. “You’re amazing, thank you.”

“So, it’s just you moving in?” Marcus asks, sipping his cup of coffee.

“Yeah. I got a new job teaching kindergarten at a nearby private school, so…” You take a careful sip of the coffee and look down at your feet.

“Well, welcome to the club. I just moved here about six months ago.”

“From where?”

“Texas, you?”

“California.” Then, you raise your mug and gently tap it with his, smiling up at him. “Cheers to us newbies here in DC.”

Marcus chuckles. “Cheers to that.”

You drink about half of the coffee before you set it down. You then clasp your hands together and look up at him with a hopeful look in your eyes. “You ready?”

He smiles to himself. “That was barely a break.”

“It was five minutes, that was enough.”

Marcus chuckles. He finds that it’s easy to talk to you and he’s beginning to enjoy being around you, even if he just met you ten minutes ago. “Alright, you’re the boss.”

It takes you and Marcus the next half hour to bring your king-sized bed into your apartment and then into your bedroom. Your apartment is a bit smaller than his, but it might also be because of the amount of boxes scattered around. Once you and Marcus set your bed the way you want it to in your bedroom, you lead him back outside to your living room and plops down onto the couch.

“So, uh, I should get going and–”

“Wanna grab breakfast?” you interrupt him. “Sorry. If you have something to do, that’s okay. I appreciate all your help, Marcus.”

Marcus wants so badly to say yes, to get to know more about you, but he has to remind himself that this is what happened last time with Lisbon. He’s sure that love and being in a relationship is no longer something he’s interested in.

“I actually have to go into the office,” Marcus lies. “But rain check?”

You nod and stand from the couch to walk him out of your apartment. You smile up at him and then reach down to grab the two mugs that were left in the hallway. You hand it over to him and stare into his eyes. “Next time, I’ll bring coffee to you.”

Marcus smiles and takes the two mugs. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Thank you again, Marcus.”

Marcus nods and then begins walking towards his apartment before he turns around and faces you. He’s a few feet away from you and you’re about to walk into your apartment before he stops you and says, “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

—

next.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #marcus pike #the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x reader #story: second chances

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