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scarletwinterxx · 21 days

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wait for your love - haechan scenario

hellloooo so this one is a request. I've mentioned it before, i'm still not the best at writing angst but I try😅 when i saw this request, a few scenes immediately popped in my head. Hope you like it🥺 also I was listening to We Can't Be Friends by Ariana on repeat while writing this.

Also a short anecdote, when I saw nct dream last year during Sorry, Heart stage I literally bawled my eyes out. Like full on ugly sobbing in my seat haha I was okay during the first verse but when it got to Haechan's turn to sing the chorus the tears just went falling like waterfalls

ANYWAYSSSSSS

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"What are we then?"

Those words shouldn't scare Haechan as much as it does. He hates it too. He hates how he can't say it to you but he doesn't want to let you go either.

He hates this grey area the two of you are in now.

"We're us. Isn't that enought?" he asks back

"For fuck's sake, we've been seeing each other for what? like 2 years now? And until now you still can't commit? I can't call you my boyfriend, you don't like it when people ask if we're dating"

"Because it's none of their fucking business"

"Well it's my business, I'm asking you right now, what the hell am I to you?" you stare at him, waiting for an answer. Any answer.

At this point hearing him say you don't mean anything to him would make more sense than the usual silence he'd give you.

"Baby, please I don't want to argue" he mumbles

"See, this is what you do all the time. I'm not a play toy. I'm not some past time you can call whenever you're bored, Haechan. We're adults now. I've invested my time, my feelings, a fraction of my life to you. For this. And you can't even answer me, is that too much to ask? Am I too much?"

You look at him, waiting for him to argue back. You didn't know it was this draining to be in a relationship or situationship or whatever it is you have with him. At some point you got tired of asking him what this all means. When it's clear he's not going to answer you, you stood up from your seat

"I can't do this" you whispered

"What?"

"I can't. I can't do what you're asking, Haechan" you speak clearer this time

He waits a few moments, letting the words sink in.

"What do you mean? I thought you said... you said we can"

With every word he tries not to show he's breaking right and the only thing keeping him together is you, and here you are about to slip through his fingers.

"We can't keep all promises, right? Like how you promised you'll try. This isn't trying."

"Baby-" "Don't" you cut him off. You know it will be a lot harder to walk away if you hear him call you that, it's already hard on you now.

"This is me letting you go" were your last words to him before walking away. You wipe the few tears that escaped, plastering a very fake smile before taking the first step away.

One of many you'd try to take just to get away from this heartbreak.

You would want to say that's not how it ended, that he changed his mind and finally mustered the courage to call you and say what he's really thinking. You want to say that he came the next day and surprised you, knocking on your door holding sunflowers for you.

But no.

After that day you never heard from him again. When you got the (unspoken) message that he'll never try to reach out and fix things between the two of you, you blocked him on everything. Your friends didn't ask questions, you went on with your life. Trying your best to bury and let that part of your story go.

From spending every day and most nights together to being strangers. You acted like he never existed to cover up the hurt you're feeling.

It's been over a year since that. You haven't really cried about it. Not even the day after he left. It's like you're just a shell now. You locked everything in a pandora box in your head, to be forgotten for the rest of time.

"Hey did you hear Dreamers new song?" your roommate asks the moment she steps through the door. You were sitting on the dinning chair, stacks of works and your laptop infront of you

She hears the song playing in the background, "Of course you have, it's good right?" she smiles

"Mhm, I like it"

"Sorry, Heart. Definitely an anthem for the broken hearted" she says withouth meaning out, "I meant like you know it's a sad song" she adds

You chuckle, she probably thinks this song is very fitting for you and you kinda agree with her.

"Anyways, I'm going to the lounge later. Want to come with?"

"Sounds good, I actually need to go out, stretch my legs and get some fresh air"

"Okay, let's leave after lunch"

You met with other friends at the lounge, chatting and sharing notes together. It was a good way to pass time. These days you find that it's best to keep yourself occupied so as not to think about things you'd rather not think about. You kept yourself busy. Finding random hobbies, fixation. For a while you liked running after class, then you got into baking, then crocheting. Activities that keeps you busy, distracted long enough not to remember.

One day you were at a record store, your newest hobby. Browsing for a new record to take home. Today out of the days you forgot to bring your headphones so you hum along the music playing in the store.

While reading the back of the record you were holding, you hear it.

A familiar voice you haven't heard in a long time, a voice you didn't think you'd hear again.

Your head shoots up, looking at the other side of the aisle.

You'd know his voice anywhere. You can be inside the loudest room and you'd still be able to single out his voice.

There he stands right across you, signing out your favorite bands newest song while he has his headphones on. Probably not realizing he's singing a bit too loud.

When Haechan felt someone staring at him, he looks up not expecting you to be looking back at him. He blinks a few times, comtemplating if this was all a dream or he's going crazy and started to hallucinate.

Immediately you put back the record you were holding and ran out the store. Once again leaving Haechan behind.

You're already far by the time he takes the steps to follow you, thinking this time he's not going to make the same mistake but you were already gone.

He knows you blocked him. Of course he tried to call you but his efforts were shut down when he couldn't reach you or his messages won't deliver.

Similar to you, he tried to find distractions. To drown out the thoughts, he drinks, goes out to parties, too many nights he drunk texted you, saying how much he missed you only to see it in the morning unsent. Most of the time there's music directly blasting through his ears. Music being his only escape from his own thoughts, if he's left long enough it's like his own mind is beating him up.

That's how he got into collecting records. He was on the look out for this new record so he decided to drop by the store that day. He didn't expect to see you there.

Out of all the places he'd see you again.

He's not going to lie, he imagined this moment many times before. Even rehearsed what he'd say to you when he see you again but now that it happened he just froze on the spot.

Just like that it's like he back in his room, watching you walk out his door for the last time. He's back to square one.

It's been weeks and no sign of Haechan. It's a good thing, you think.

Also you've been subtly avoiding going to public places just in case you accidently see him again. You thought you're ready, but the moment you saw him it's like all of these emotions you've repressed since you left came back again.

Your roommate finally convinced you to come out. A few of you were gathering for karaoke night. You almost said no again but you need a night out, one more night in your room might just drive you crazy.

"Oh my gosh, girlie you're hereeeee" one of your friends squeals when she saw you walk in the room

"I'm here as a spectator, not to sing" you tell her, accepting the bottle of beer she hands you

"Alright by me, you better cheer the loudest when I sing"

You got invited to karaoke night. A couple of students from campus got together tonight to hang out for chill night. Even though you don't really sing, you do enjoy hanging out with your friends.

You were talking to another friend when suddenly you hear the intro to a familiar song being sung by a familiar voice.

왜 이리도 쉽게 토라지는지? (Why do I become mad so easily) 내 맘이 작아서 너무 한심하지? (It's pathetic that my heart is so small right?)

You look over the makeshift stage to see Haechan holding the mic, singing out one of your favorite songs.

어떻게 널 볼까? (How can I see you?) 밤새 뒤척인 맘의 조각들 반짝이지 않아 (I toss and torn all night The fragments of my heart don't shine) 난 알고 있는데 내가 할 수 있는 건 (I know it, what I can do is) "I'm sorry", 그 말뿐이란 걸 (Only those words)

Before the chorus starts, Haechan looks through the crowd finding you. He looks straight at you as if he's singing every word to you.

Words you wished you heard from him a long time ago.

Tell me why I let you down Any chance I get, I'm breaking down 잘못인 걸 다 아는데 (아는데), 왜 힘든 걸까? (I know I'm at fault but why is it tiring?) To tell you that I'm sorry, heart

For the rest of the song the two of you look at each other. You listen to him, imagining it was really him who was saying those words and not through the song.

When he finished, you stood up to go outside and get some fresh air.

Of course he's here. Luck was never on your side and fate seems to like playing jokes on you.

Haechan watches your back, giving the mic to the next person before following you out. You hear the footsteps behind you, knowing who it might be without looking back.

You're now at the rooftop of the building, a fewer people were hanging out here than inside. Feeling another presence beside you but they haven't said anything yet.

Even though you already know who it was, you don't say anything instead you get another beer from a nearby cooler and passing it over to Haechan without a word.

For a while neither of you said anything, watching the view in front of you.

“I get flashbacks when I see you and not the good kind” you finally speak out loud

“You’re saying that like I was the worst thing that ever happened to you” he snickers, holding the bottle up to his lips to drink his beer

He really didn’t think you’d talk to him or even acknowledge his existence at all. But now here you are, at some rooftop at a party he least expected to see you.

He’s trying not to be too obvious but he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Maybe it was the way the light hit your face, or how the cold breeze was hitting his skin and yours. The moment he arrived he was kind of hoping to find you here tonight. He knew some of your friends were coming, you did use to have the same circle of friends until he started to distance himself.

He's glad though knowing you found good people who'll be there for you.

He's looking at you again, not being able to stop himself. It was at this moment he realized. Realized something he never thought he was ever capable of ever doing again.

Feeling. Loving. Falling and accepting.

The sound of horns from cars and the murmuring people in the background, the city lights in front the two of you and the stars as the witnesses. Witness for something that’s about to unfold.

It was scary. This new found knowledge scared him.

In the past it was scary to him to even think about being tied down. To be committed to someone. All of this comes from his fear of failing. He wanted to tell you that before, the last day before you ended things between the two of you he wanted to let you know the reason why he couldn’t set things straight with you was because he was scared of letting you down. He was scared you might feel trapped.

It's wasn't you who was too much for him. He was the one who felt like he was too much for you. He thought he was being too fast, too careless. His fears got the better of him, costing him a future with you.

You walked away and everything in his life got worse. Like the only light in his life was extinguished.

Right now feels like that one chance to get things right. Even though he still feels scared, this time he’s willing to take that risk for you.

There are other things to be scared of, like your gaze. It was the way you were looking at him.

Like you can just consume all of him with those eyes. How you’re saying a thousand words with them without saying a single syllable.

One look into his own eyes and he's ready to surrender everything to you.

“Do you really want to hear my answer to that or are you still emotionally unavailable?” you ask, taking a sip of your own drink.

“At what point did you realize you liked me? Like really liked me?” he asked instead, all he got was a laugh from you. You were laughing out loud like it was the funniest joke you’ve ever heard.

“We were watching a movie, I mumbled something under my breath. I think it was something along the lines of ‘oh that’s so cute’, talking to myself. Then I felt you hold my hand, you kissed it before holding it in yours for the rest of the movie. It’s not the grandest gesture but at that moment I felt so content. It was all I wanted but I knew you didn’t think the same way” you smile sadly recalling that memory. Giving him an answer, wondering why you did.

"I guess I never said sorry, I'm sorry"

You shrug, taking another swig from your drink. "What's done is done. I would say no hard feelings but I kinda do hate you for what you did"

"Good. I'd be sadder if you said you didn't care. Hate isn't the opposite of love, it's indifference" he says

"Was that what you felt for me before? Indifference?" you can't help but ask, in your mind you're not sure if you're ready to hear his answer but it's too late to take it back

He shakes his head, drinking the rest of his drink before standing straight to face you

"I felt more for you, more than I ever said. In that I was wrong, I admit. I should've told you. It might be no use in telling you now, but I did feel something for you. I was being stupid and was too scared to admit it"

"Then why are you telling me now?"

"Because I realized not having you in my life is scarier than the thoughts in my head. I was too scared of my own mind, I sacrificed you instead when I shouldn't have. I could've told you. I wish I told you"

You listen to him, letting it sink in. For so long you asked just what went wrong, what you could've done differently or what would've happened if you stayed.

"I waited, I waited until you told me you liked me. But the more I waited, the more I started to not like myself. I knew I deserved more but I stayed because I wanted to be with you. You were always first to me" you say

Hearing you say those words breaks something in him. He did like you, he still likes you. Haechan has always kept a safe distance from everyone, you were the only exception.

"I'm glad we got to talk" you say to him with a smile, then you walk back inside.

This time Haechan didn't follow you because he knows this won't be the last time he sees you.

"Oh my gosh, so that's what happened between the two of you?"

After that conversation with Haechan, you went back to your place and called it a night. The next day your roommate noticed you were staring blankly into space, out of concern she asked you what's wrong. You told her all that happened in the past 24 hours then you told her all about your history with Haechan.

"Yep, I haven't seen him around campus that much after that"

"You know, one of his friends is my blockmate and we go to the same gym. I heard he did an exchange program for a year, maybe that's why you haven't seen him around" she tells you

"Oh really, he did mention it before. Maybe he went through with it" you mumbled

"So you guys were like in a situationship then?"

"I guess so. We weren't exclusive, but he was the only guy I was seeing for like 2 years. Remember when I was barely home"

"Oh! That was him? He used to like send food here all the time whenever you were busy studying"

"What?"

"Oh my god I forgot to tell you that? yea this was like when you guys were a thing. During exam season or when you're busy with reports and stuff, he'd drop off food for you" she tells you

"I thought you had those delivered"

"Girl no, half of the time he leaves it at our door. The only reason I know is because I caught him one time and he fessed up"

No, you definitely didn't know that.

Haechan never told you. He never told you anything. At some point you thought it was better to not ask instead of being met with silence as a reply.

One thing you know though is he's the type to take action rather than say it. You won't be surprised if he did it before, he might not be good at expressing himself but he never passed the chance to make you feel like you're the only girl in his world.

It feels like that was another lifetime ago, that at some point in your life you'd rather be the backburner than totally lose him.

Seeing him again was no help. It's like you spiraled down again. You thought he didn't have this effect on you anymore but you were wrong. You'd be lying if you say you haven't thought of him since you saw him last.

What you didn't know was Haechan felt exactly the same. He's trying to think of a way to reach out to you without seeming to needy, he didn't want you to think he's forcing himself back into your life.

Another week has passed and still no sign of you. He decided to get drinks with his friends, he's a few drinks in when he decided to call it an early night. This really wasn't where he wanted to be.

He's not sure where he wants to be. All he knows is his night would be a thousand times better if he sees you, even just a glimpse.

On his walk back to his place, he plucked a branch from a random plant. Picking out the leaves one by one, leaving a trail behind him.

You're on your way back from the library, deciding to get some midnight snacks first. You noticed the scattered leaves on the road, chuckling at the sight. The more steps you take, you slowly realized it's the same path to your apartment.

You slowed down, looking around to check if anybody was close to you but the street is empty. You grab your phone in your pocket just in case, while you hold your keys with the other hand.

When you're nearing your front door, you see someone sitting at the steps. Head lying low, you can't even see his face but you'd know that brown mop of hair anywhere.

"Haechan?" you called out for him

Haechan looks up, seeing you walking towards him. At first he thinks he's dreaming, he wipes his eyes to clear his vision. Even pinched his arm to check if this was real.

You're here.

He's here.

"What are you doing here?" you asked once you're standing right in front of him

"I grabbed drinks with Yangyang and Jeno, I swear I was walking home. I guess I got confused" he mumbles, now holding a branch with no leaves on it.

You look at it, then looked back at the trail of leaves behind you.

"Do you want to come in? Go drink some water or coffee first before you head back" you offered

"Are you sure?" he asks back, standing up from the steps

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't. Let's go inside, it's getting chilly"

He steps aside to let you go first, following behind you. The elevator ride up to your floor was quiet, even after going in your apartment Haechan didn't say a word.

"Here, have some water. I can make coffee but it's too late to drink it, do you want ramen or something?" you ask him while getting the snacks you got out of the grocery bag

"Do you usually ask guys to come in with you and cook ramen for them?" he asks

He meant to only think of it, but with the little amount of alcohol in his system seems to have turn the filter off.

You snicker at his question. Instead of answering him, you grab two ramen cup noodles from your cupboard and turn the kettle on. You wait for the red light to turn green before pouring it in the cups, bringing it over the kitchen island and taking the seat beside him.

"I can't even order late night snacks without thinking about you, we used to do it all the time when I came over at yours or when we're having late night hangouts. You ruined a lot of things for me" you finally say

Haechan just looks at your profile. Even though you say it like that, there's really no trace of anger on your face. Maybe you are, but to him you look so pretty and cozy. He wanted to beat himself up for ever thinking he can walk away from this. From you.

"For what it's worth, whenever I get drunk I used to text you all the time. You probably blocked me because the messages never got delivered. Every morning I see that on my phone, message after message until I lost count. I knew you weren't going to answer but I still did it"

"Why?" you ask him

"I missed you. I wanted to tell you I was being stupid, I wanted to beg for you to take me back. But all of those thing I could only say with a bit of help from alcohol. That's how I knew I couldn't go back, not yet anyways. You deserved more than drunken confessions"

You look over at him, for the first time since that night you really look at him. The same eyes that used to feel like home to you.

He looked so different yet the same.

You still feel the same.

"It's been 3 minutes, you hate soggy noodles" you nod at his ramen. Opening your own cup to start eating. Neither of you said anything after that. It wasn't awkward, you actually enjoyed the quiet.

For the first time since Haechan came back and you saw him again, your mind was at peace. You weren't overthinking things. You weren't wondering your long list of what if's.

It's like a part of you knew he's finally here again.

After the quick snack session, he helped you clean up before walking towards the door.

"Thank you for the uh snacks and water" he didn't know what to say, a shy Haechan is a rare sight so you can't help but smile.

Haechan sees this, he can feel his own cheeks redden. You still look so beautiful when you smile, so beautiful that he's ready to fight anyone who makes you smile that isn't him.

"Go home, it's late. You're sober now right?" you ask him

"Yea, I'm good"

"Okay, don't want you getting confused and going to someone else's front door"

"I promise I won't drunk text you again so will you unblock me now? Or if you have a new number you can text me or whatever. Actually you know what, do whatever makes you feel comfortable. Don't listen to me, I'm just blabbing now"

You can't help but giggle at him, the action making Haechan's heart skip a few beats.

"I'm imagining this is how those drunk texts would sound like" you say

"I missed you, Y/N" he mumbles

You don't say anything. He can hear his own heartbeating, each thump like it's the last then you're smiling back at him

"Goodnight, Haechan"

He smiles at you, waving goodbye before finally walking out. He gestures for you to close the door behind him, only leaving after he hears the lock from the other side. He skips back home.

The next few days were back to normal, you weren't feeling gloomy. You were going out with friends. All in all, you're in a great mood.

"Hey, somebody left this outside. Tell me I'm crazy but is this from Haechan?" your roommate hands you over a small bouquet of flowers with a paper bag full of snacks.

"Uh yeah, I think so"

"I know things didn't end well between the two of you, but the boy is still so whipped for you" she mumbles, watching the small smile on your face

"Maybe it's just a peace offering"

"Right, well whatever it might be I say go for it. As long as you're happy"

You look up at her, shocked to hear that all of a sudden "Isn't that what you're worrying about? You really think I didn't notice it, you were listening to Sorry, Heart on repeat the other day then now you're listening to love songs. If he's it for you, then give it a chance"

She left after that, leaving you alone at home.

You take the gifts Haechan sent to your room, putting the flowers in a vase. You see a small note attached,

xx12131xxx just in case you lost it or changed your number. - H

You get your phone and dial the number, it's still in your phone. You unblock it first before you click call, waiting a few rings before you hear his voice

"Y/N?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone else, and uh it looks like you didn't change your number"

"Oh yea uhm so you're unblocked now" you told him, not really sure what else to say

He chuckles, "Thanks, so I'm guessing you got the flowers and the snacks?"

"Yeah, thanks by the way. Why though?"

"You shared your stash with me the other night, just wanted to pay you back"

"You didn't have to, I offered. But thanks again"

"Hey uh are you busy right now? or tomorrow or really whenever you're free"

"I don't have anymore classes today"

"Do you want to go grab coffee or food or anything really. Whatever you want, my treat"

If someone told you you'd be going out to get drinks with Haechan, you'd say they're out of their mind. But here you are, visiting a new cafe you've never been to with a guy you thought you'd never be with again.

"I'd get the taro milktea, thanks"

"I'll take this one" he points at the drink in the picture, "And two of the cookies please, thank you" he pulls out his card to pay for the both of you. When you got your drinks and food, you walked back outside to sit on the vacant seats. The weather was nice, it wasn't too hot or too cold. A perfect day to be out.

You open your drink, taking a quick sip while Haechan does the same. You notice he made the face, like when he drinks or eats something sour.

"It's lemon flavored isn't it?" you chuckle, taking the drink from him and giving yours to him instead

"No, it's fine. I'll drink it"

"You hate anything sour flavored, I like lemon it's fine" you sip his drink, it does taste good but you know he won't like it

He watches you get the cookies, breaking it in half before giving him the other.

"If you have anything to say, just say it. You're too in your head again" you tell him

"Sorry, I was just..." he's at lost for words, but this time not for the wrong reason.

It's like his mind can't put what he's feeling in to words.

"Did you get the record you were looking for?" you ask him, changing the topic

"Huh?"

"At the record store"

"Oh I wasn't really buying anything, I was just browsing around. They didn't have the vinyl version of the album I wanted, I'll come back some other time" he tells you, taking a sip of your well now his drink.

"You were singing to the Dreamers, you know them?"

"I know a few songs, Sorry, Heart is good. I like that one"

"Me too. You sounded good when you sang it" you complimented him, this made him smile shyly at you

"Isn't it a bit too sad?" he asks, you shrug your shoulders

"I like it, although my roommate said I've been playing love songs these past few days" you shake your head, remembering what she told you

"Thank you by the way" Haechan suddenly says

"For what? You paid for our drinks"

"I meant for agreeing to get drinks with me. I was an asshole to you. All the time I was gone, I was thinking about how to make it up to you. That is if it's okay with you" he tells you.

He mentally pats himself on the back for not messing that up. Maybe slowly he'll learn how to speak his true feelings, he just hopes you'll be there to listen to him. Even though it took him this long.

"The last thing you asked me was what are we, I was being stupid. I wanted us to be more. I wanted us to be official but I was always scared to say it. I don't know why I was ever scared of committing, I could've been with you. That's my regret"

"Haechan"

"You're not a playtoy to me or just some past time whenever I'm bored. You were never too much for me. If anything I was the one who lacked. I don't blame you for walking away, I deserved that. I needed that so I could finally grow up"

You listen to him. You listen to him finally say the words you've been waiting to hear from him.

"This time I want to do it right, I want to take you out on dates, be there to go on night walks with you, go buy records we'd listen to, whatever you want to I just wan to do it with you. If you'll still have me"

The last words was barely a whisper, like he's scared to say it outloud, scared you might turn him away.

Haechan feels his heart beating wildly again, one day he might pass from arrest he thinks. Then you smile at him and it's like everything in his world stops.

You lean over, kissing the corner of his lip lightly. It was so quick but to him it felt like long time

"All I wanted was that, when it gets too much in your head you can talk to me. I'll listen. We don't have to walk away from each other" you tell him

"I'm sorry" he whispers

"I forgive you, the same way I forgive myself from everything that has happened. We need to heal from those wounds for us to move forward"

He smiles at you, he didn't even notice he got a bit teary eyed until a few tears escaped. He wipes it away before looking back at you again.

You stand up from your seat, holding out your hand to him. He looks at your hand then your face then your hand again before intertwining it with his.

There wasn't a destination in mind, he's probably thinking the same. The two of you just walk where your steps lead you to, with him following beside you holding you close to him.

Haechan looks at your hands, a smile forming on his face. He leans towards you to kiss you on the head, the action making you smile too.

"Thank you" you hear him mumble. You didn't say anything back but he felt you grip his hand tighter. Squeezing it three times.

And he knew everything was finally going to be okay. This time, you won't let go.

185 notes · View notes

moralesmilesanhour · 7 months

Note

Ooo hi, can you write something with gamer/streamer Miles G? Maybe he and the reader just chill and play games talking about life or whatever.

streamer miles!

Ok this went in a sliiightly different direction but the general premise is the same i hope that's ok lmao (also lowkey trying a new writing style/approach)

A/N: comment which animal crossing villager you think miles would like if u want 🫶🏾

You only really see a fraction of a person online.

The messy, disagreeable thoughts that don’t fit into a neat little post, every time you’ve ever tripped over something and ate shit, all of your worst outfits - none of it exists if you don’t make it known. If you decide you’ve never stumbled over your own feet a day in your life, then it’s so. No one’s gonna claw their way through your screen and check.

For example, you had never seen Miles Morales smile with his teeth before until you clicked on his livestream, and none of his viewers would ever be able to guess.

He was laughing at some joke being made in the chat.

“Y’all are terrible,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Miles’ stream had been recommended to you by the ever-mysterious, totally-not-creepy algorithm ‘based on your location’, and the thumbnail with his dimples on full display piqued your curiosity.

He’d been passing by once when you accidentally dropped your books and folders while rushing to class. He knelt down and picked them up without a word, dropping them into your hands in a much neater stack than they had originally been in, from largest to smallest.

Your eyes met for less than two seconds, but you could’ve sworn that there was a softness to them that couldn’t be caught from a distance.

“Thanks!” you called out as the late bell rang. He only nodded before turning away, not bothering to walk any faster.

You never spoke to him again, having no idea what you’d even say. He rarely spoke outside of class, but you had assumed that based on the way he skulked down the hallway and the permanent ‘I’m bored’ look on his face, that he’d be playing something a little more…serious? ‘God of War’ maybe, or ‘Last of Us’. Or some sports-related game that you couldn’t understand.

Certainly not ‘Animal Crossing’.

Tentatively, your fingers hovered over the keyboard as the stream of comments began to slow, and you wondered if he’d be more likely to see it if you commented this instant.

–Who’s ur favorite villager?

There, nice and simple. Inoffensive.

Miles squinted his eyes at what was presumably a second monitor.

“Who’s my favorite villager?” His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before he put two and two together. “Oh! You mean the li’l animals and shit. Um, the blue penguin? Ace? I like him.”

You sat back and watched him play for another fifteen minutes, most of which were spent figuring out what direction a couch sitting inside his virtual home should face. His voice was low and almost raspy, but…muted. As if someone had turned the volume down on it like you would the radio. He was fortunate to own a decent microphone.

–You got your own PC?

It seems you got lucky a second time, and Miles paused to read your comment aloud once again.

“Yyup,” he answered proudly. “Put it together myself. I’ll do a tour one day. My setup is wavy, you’ll see!”

He continued going back and forth with the comments in chat, occasionally thanking some for making small donations. The fact of him making anything at all just from playing a video game was impressive.

Miles remarked on the ‘classical style’ of one of the buildings on his island, and you snorted. Nerd.

–bro thinks he’s an architect

This made him giggle. A light, breathy sound that you would hardly expect to come out of him.

“You’re a hater, man. Watch me get hired as soon as I’m outta college and build yo’ next apartment building.”

You looked down at your phone and realized it was nearly one in the morning. With a yawn, you said your goodbyes in the comments and left the stream.

The cafeteria was full by the time you got downstairs, leaving not a single space on the white benches save for two completely empty ones near the back.

Well, not completely empty.

As you weaved in between students carrying trays of slop with milk cartons, a familiar pair of cornrows came into view.

It’s now or never.

Timidly, you slid onto the bench right beside Miles. Focused on his meal and the tattered sketchbook he carried around, he looked up at you with just his eyes.

“Hey,” you tried to greet him casually with an awkward smile. “I saw you ye–I mean, I…I saw you. In general.”

His blinked slowly. “We all go to the same school.”

You cleared your throat.

“...Right. We-uh, met in the hallway.”

“You dropped all your books on the floor.”

“Yeah!” you replied a little too loudly. “I just, um, wanted to say hi.”

“...hi.”

There was a stretch of silence as you sifted through a list of topics to rescue the conversation, and a lightbulb went off.

“Do you have any hobbies? Other than drawing, I mean.”

Miles gave up on sketching and answered, “Video games.”

“Which ones you been playing recently?”

“Uh, Mortal Kombat, 2K,” he counted on his fingers, “and Animal Crossing, just to see what it was about–”

“Oh, you’re really good at that one!”

You both froze. Uh-oh.

“And how exactly do you know that?”

“I-I mean, you just…look…like the type?”

You started frantically chipping away at the remaining nail polish on your fingers. Not even you could believe that one.

A tiny grin played on his lips.

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

Soon the bell rang, saving you from making any further incriminating comments.

“See you in class?”

“Yeah, see you in class,” Miles replied, before tilting his head. “Or wherever I see you.”

#y'all like my lil gradient i like this color #miles morales fic #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

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perpetualfox · 1 year

Note

Hi! I saw you write dub con but since there are a lot of layers, I would like to know what you consider dubcon and if you would write some headcanons for the 141 + Alejandro with a dubcon experience

Dub-Con Extravaganza - 141 + Alejandro x GN Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Dub-Con, Rough Handling, Possessive Behavior, Oral, Overstimulation, Exhibitionism, Burning, Authority Kink, First Time, Breath Play, Choking, Edging

Wordcount: 2440

Thank you so much for the request. I hope you enjoy it!

For anyone who is curious, here's a quick link to my updated request guidelines for an updated on consent related content on this blog.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

→ “If you don’t stop squirmin’ about, I’m gonna have’ta hold you down, baby.”

→ You whine incoherently as he mumbles against your inner thigh. The low rumble of his voice thrums through you, rich and comforting despite the threat. Your flesh burns, scraped nearly raw by the rough caress of his stubble, and your fingers ache, cramping from clutching so tightly in his short, curling hair.

→ He’s been at it for what felt like hours, bringing you to the edge and over it again and again with little more than his clever tongue. Your thighs ran slick with saliva and your own arousal, the bedsheets beneath you damp with it. Every pass of his tongue was agony upon your frayed and sparking nerves—even the gentle puffs of his breathing were overwhelming.

→ If you had had the wherewithal to speak, you might have begged him to stop, to let you rest, to come down from one high before it could bleed into the next. But, God, he was good to you. And you longed to be good for him in return—to be worthy of the attention he so lovingly laid upon you, to deserve every flicker of that tongue. And he had asked for so little, only that you lay still and take it; to be good. Dimly, with what little of your mind is still capable of higher thinking, you wonder if you can.

→ You try, honestly you do, but it’s just too much. As he licks another stripe slow and wide against your sensitive flesh, your whole body tenses, hips jerking away from the brilliant heat of his mouth. Unwilling to let you escape, Gaz follows the movement, slick tongue pressing in harder, flickering relentlessly against you. Your eyes roll back, jaw going slack, his name both a prayer and a curse as it tumbles from your lips.

→ A moment later, he’s gone—withdrawing from you completely. You sob, body collapsing, limp and useless beneath him. You aren’t sure which was worse: the brutal pleasure of his mouth on you, or the pitiful throbbing that descends in his absence.

→ He makes a disappointed sound high in the back of his throat, “I warned you.”

→ In a flash, he’s moving, shifting his weight, and pinning your hips against the mattress with strong, gun-roughened hands. Then his tongue is on you again, laving against your most sensitive spots, and though you try to squirm, to kick your legs, to buck him off, he doesn’t budge, his fingers only tightening on your hips. He pulls back a fraction and glances up at you, with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

→ “Oh no, baby. You’re not going anywhere,” he rasps, “Not until I’m finished with you.”

John 'Soap' MacTavish

→ The lighter snaps open. A small flame hisses to life, illuminating the sharp edge of Soap’s jaw for just a moment before the end of his cigarette catches, and he snaps it shut again.

→ “Put that thing out, Soap. You know I hate the smell of ‘em.”

→ He leans against the brick wall of the alley, bracing his hip against the stone, and takes a long drag. He holds the smoke deep in his lungs for a moment, revelling in the rush of nicotine in his system, before blowing it back out into the night. The cloud of it hangs around him for a moment—a wispy halo caught in the sour glow of a streetlamp.

→ “Nah, don’ think I will.”

→ “I’m not in the mood to argue, Soap. Put it out.”

→ “I’m no’ arguin’, and I’m no’ puttin’ it out. ‘S a free alley. I’ve lit up, an’ now I intent to have my smoke.”

→ “I’ll give you three seconds.”

→ He barked out a laugh that made your blood boil, “Or what—you’ll do it for me? I don’ think so.”

→ You round on him, closing the distance in three quick steps, but he was ready. He catches your arm as you reach for him and twists it backward. You cry out as he spins you about, bending the arm behind your back and pinning it there. Your shoes slip against the slick pavement, but Soap held you firmly upright.

→ You struggle against him, spitting curses and trying to break his hold, but he’s stronger by an order of magnitude. He huffs out a laugh, leaning down to nuzzle against your shoulder. You can smell the smoke on his breath and feel the heat from his cigarette, still lit in his other hand. He holds it aloft, casually caught between two fingers, closer to your cheek than you’d like. The stink of it makes your head swim.

→ His voice is low and raspy as he drags his lips across the bare skin of your neck, “Such a pretty thing…”

→ He brings the cigarette back to his lips, sliding his hand down to pop the button of your jeans. You bite your lip as he slips his hand beneath the rough denim, his fingers leaving burning against your skin, scarred knuckles brushing against your most sensitive spots. You whine long and low into the night, leaning back against him as your knees go weak.

→ “Such a fuckin’ slut you are, hey? Lettin’ me do this oot here where anyone could see…” The warmth of his body cuts through the damp chill of the evening, the heat of him burning through his jacket and your own. You squirm in his grip, but he holds you fast, chuckling deep in his throat.

→ He rolls his head to the side and takes another drag from the cigarette. “Bet tha’ thought gets you excited.” His fingers press against you a little harder, “So it does,” You can all but hear the grin in his voice. “I can feel it.”

→ He rolls his hips against your ass, and as he shifts, you can feel the hard press of his cock through his jeans, “Guess, it gets me excited too.”

→ He swings your body around, pressing your cheek hard against the slimy wall of the alley. ‘If I’m to fuck you proper, I’ll have to be rid of this,” He plucks the cigarette from him mouth, keeping you pinned against the wall with his hips.

→ His fingers claw at the neckline of your shirt, “Soap? What are you doing?”

→ “You told me to put it out, so I’m putting it out.”

→ That’s all the warning you receive before the burning end of his cigarette is pressed against the meat of your shoulder blade.

→ You cry out, the pain lighting up your nerves, but Soap just laughs, grinding himself harder against your ass, crowding you against the wall of the alley, “Yeah, that’s it, Hen. Fuckin’ scream for me.”

John Price

→ “Off!”

→ The command rings through the room, and you jerk your head back as though you’d been stung, the captain’s slick cock slipping from between your lips. Saliva drips down your chin, soaking your shirt and collecting in a puddle between your thighs. Your chest heaves as you struggle to get enough air into your starving lungs and tears slide unchecked down your cheeks.

→ “I taught you better than that, didn’t I?” Upon receiving no better answer than you laboured breaths and pathetic sniffling, he surges forward, seizing a fistful of your hair and tugging hard enough to sting. “Didn’t I?”

→ “Y-Yes…” Your voice is little more than a ragged whisper; a scratchy testament to the abuse your throat has suffered. Unsatisfied with your answer, he pulls hard on your hair, dragging you forward. Your spine arches back in a desperate bid to ease the tension on your scalp.

→ “What was that?”

→ “Yes…S-Sir!”

→ He releases you, and you flop forward, your face mere inches from his cock, still slick and shining with your drool. His thick fingers find their way to your face, his thumb smearing through the mess around your mouth. His calloused fingertips glide across the slick flesh of your lips, tracing the puffy, cock-bruised flesh, leaving a stinging trail in their wake.

→ “What’s this for?” He asks.

→ “S-Sucking your cock, Sir?”

→ “Is it a question?”

→ “No, Sir.”

→ “Then say so. What is it for?”

→ “S-Sucking your cock, Sir.”

→ His fingers slide down your slick chin and seize about your throat. He doesn’t squeeze—not yet—just applies light pressure: a promise, and a threat, “And this?”

→ “I-I don’t…”

→ “I’m beginning to lose patience with you,” His voice is low, dangerous. “What. Is. It. For?”

→ “For…you to fuck, Sir.”

→ “Mmm, And when do you get to breathe?”

→ “When you say so, Sir.”

→ “That’s right. So,” He takes a deep drag of his cigar and leans forward in his seat to blow it into your face. The need to cough rattles about in your chest as the acris smoke stings your already teary eyes. Price smacks you hard on the back of the skull, his palm open, “Get that fucking gag reflex under control, or I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

→ “Oh fuck, Ghost!”

→ When the blunt head of his cock first nudged up against your entrance, you weren’t convinced it was going to fit. He was just so fucking big—bigger than anything you’d had the courage to take before. And as he presses forward, his strong arms caging you against the mattress, you are absolutely sure it won’t—not all of it anyway. Not all at once.

→ The stretch is intense. Your thighs jump and twitch where they lay, hitched high about his hips. Your hands cling tightly to his shoulders, nails sunk deep into his pale flesh, leaving little crescent shaped indentations. The deeper he pushes into you, the further you feel your control slipping—your breath comes fast and hard and your legs begin to shake in earnest.

→ All at once, he brushes up against something inside of you and you cry out. Your muscles lock up and you clench down around him so tightly that he gasps—a short, sharp sound that echoes in your ears. The steady push of his hips falters, and he grinds to an uneasy halt, “C’mon, Lovie, that’s only half of it. You can take more than that.”

→ But you couldn’t. He was going to break you—to split you in half. You were so full of him you could hardly find the room in your lungs for air. Still, he rocked his hips into you in short, shallow thrusts. He wanted to keep going—to keep pushing until he made room one way or another. Each shift of his hips, no matter how small, punched a heavy, gasping breath from your lungs.

→ God was that really only half?

→ “C-Can’t.”

→ “Yes, you can.”

→ You could feel yourself slipping away, your mind going fuzzy with the rocking of his hips, the burn as he stretched you out. The muscles in your stomach tighten with the promise of an impending orgasm, your vision going blurry with overstimulated tears.

→ “T-Too much,” You whine, “So fucking big…I can’t—”

→ Suddenly, his hands are at your throat. His fingers wrap around your neck, and he squeezes hard. The fight drains out of you so quickly you feel dizzy, the heat of his palms sapping the strength from your body.

→ “Tell me to stop then.” His dark eyes bore into yours from beneath his balaclava, his light eyelashes nearly white in the gloom. “Tell me to fucking stop, Lovie. Go on.”

→ His fingers tighten around your throat, as though he were trying to wring the words from you. You can feel those thick digits locking together at the back of your neck, his blunt nails digging into your soft skin. You couldn’t have spoken around the clench of those fingers if your life had depended on it. All that escapes from your lips is a thin whine, high and desperate.

→ “Got nothin’ to say?” Ghost laughs, a low, dangerous sound that rumbles in his chest and makes you shudder beneath him, “Then fucking take it,” And he slams his hips home, sheathing himself to the root in one smooth stroke.

Alejandro Vargas

→ Strong hands soothe the ache along the ridge of your spine, calloused fingers rubbing gentle circles into your flesh. His thumbs stroke over your ribs and down your sides, pressing against the bones of your hips just enough that you really feel it—a heavy pressure just shy of painful. His hands slide further down, grasping a handful of the meat of your thighs, rubbing feeling back into the spots where they press against the wooden lip of the desk.

→ Your chest lays flush against its varnished surface, the wood growing warm and slick beneath your heated flesh. Papers and files lay scattered across the floor, swept from the desk in the desperate frenzy to bend you over it. It’ll be a hell of a job for Alejandro to make sense of them tomorrow, scattered and jumbled as they are, but that isn’t your problem.

→ It was a quiet night, the Vaqueros still on base occupied with the last of their daily tasks or already tucked into their bunks in preparation for an early morning. There was no one around to hear you now, hidden away in Alejandro’s office as you were, but you whine and sob into your palms anyhow, muffling yourself out of habit more than necessity.

→ “Come now, Mi Corazón, there’s no need for tears.”

→ But there is. His cock is buried inside of you, splitting you open with his girth, but he isn’t moving—hasn’t moved an inch since seating himself within you nearly an hour ago. He kept you pinned, his hips pressed tight against your ass, holding you immobile with little more than the weight of his body.

→ “You can just take what you need,” He crooned, “C’mon, take it from me.”

→ You struggle desperately, trying to throw your weight against him, to move him an inch in any direction, but it’s no use. You just aren’t strong enough. A fresh wave of frustrated tears pricks at your eyes and burns your cheeks. You can do nothing but clench around him and sob into your fingers.

→ He coos softly—a gentle sound, so full of love and understanding. He presses a gentle kiss into your hair, “Awww, that’s okay, Mi Vida. I understand,” His lips brush against the back of your neck, soft and warm “It’s a lot to take in all at once, no?”

→ He shifts his hips ever so slightly, slowly grinding himself into you. You seize beneath him, pulsing around his cock. It’s the first stimulation with which he’d graced you since he’d opened you on his fingers, “We can wait here just like this until you’re ready.”

#141 x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut

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pray4byron · 3 months

Text

i meant to get to this a lot sooner but it slipped my mind as i completely forgot about it until i was scrolling through my posts so my apologies 😭😭

this was interesting to write for considering i’m not sure if husk or alastor would even want kids in the first place (more so alastor) but it definitely got me thinking!!

but anywho, here ya go, friend!!

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, pregnancy talk

Alastor

Alastor isn’t a very kid-loving kinda guy, but he’s very traditional, so he decided to follow tradition, and let his power travel to the next generation

You both end up having triplets, two boys, and a girl!!

Alastor wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but he didn’t think it’d be as challenging as it is, he originally thought his magic could help him through every obstacle and he is mistaken

Once his children are in his arms, his facade drops, his usual upbeat grin turns into a small, soft smile as he cradled them, stroking his daughters face.

Alastor is practically unfazed if they wake up in the middle of the night, as I headcanon he stays awake most hours of the night, so he’s in no rush to get the babies back to bed for whatever reason (But he will, dw haha)

Despite the fact that he’s an overlord, he really doesn’t do much, so most of the time he just stays at the hotel with the kids

He doesn’t understand the concept of playing with kids, especially when their in their first couple years, so when their just learning to stand he’ll play jazz music and swing his kids around the room with him as a way of dancing, hey, it’s a win-win, y’know?

If he does have to go out, he will most likely take his kids, but if it’s more than just a 10 minute outing — he does have Charlie babysit.

Like, if he’s going to the tailors, he’ll have two kids on each side of him, holding their hands softly, and the other kid on his shoulders, as they play with his ears (which no one else is allowed to do, not even you)

He doesn’t fully understand the concept of love, as you may or may not have guessed. He loves both you (his partner) and kids in his own special way, and he knows that, whether or not he’ll admit to someone outside of you guys is debatable, but he truly does love you and your kids.

He’s not very good at understanding his kids feelings, especially when their upset. For example, let’s say your daughter is crying over a boy in her teen years, first of all, he won’t hesitate to tear him the fuck apart, but he’ll sort of just stand their and watch her for a moment, wide grin as usual, but his eyes widen in shock before softening their gaze at her for a moment.

Anywho, about the powers, Alastor is eager for his kids to get his powers — even if it’s only one of them, as this is the first reason he wanted kids (which did shift a bit as time went on)

He is very precise with his kids about how these powers work, cause their strong, even if they had only gotten a small fraction of what Al uses, cause let’s be real, he’s fuckin’ tough

He explains how they can use these powers to their advantage, he also takes this opportunity to explain how a smile is a tool, so use it. No matter how they each individually choose how to use these powers, Alastor encourages all of his kids to follow their inner bliss, whatever that is

Husk

Like in the last post with marriage, Husk really couldn’t give a shit, but if you want it, Husk is willing to give it a shot

But let’s be real, Husk was much more willing to get married then have kids

After some convincing, you two decide to try for kids, he realistically only wants one though, so don’t get your hopes up

You guys have a girl! (woohoo!)

Husk, like Al and the others I’ve written for in this scenario, he didn’t expect to love his child as much as he did

While you were asleep in the hospital bed a little after giving birth, Husk takes your daughter, and a part of him (on the inside) cries a little, he looks at her proudly, before pecking her forehead, silently vowing to fight for her forever

Husk doesn’t have a lot of time to help out with the baby, he doesn’t get a lot of breaks from the bar a whole lot, so…

But when he does get time to spend with his daughter? Their usually sleeping together.

Like Husk with hold her in his arms and they’ll lay there and snore together

Husk isn’t too sure how to bond with his daughter before she’s learned to talk but he makes it work

Once she’s old enough, sarcasm becomes a big part of him and his daughter’s relationship, constantly making fun of eachother and giving eachother shit haha

When she’s in her teens she starts to develop Husk’s powers from when he was an overlord, and he feels like he’s gonna shit his pants, but he keeps his cool cause he knows your daughter is hyped

He heavily advises to her to not use them out of fear she’ll get hurt, but if she really wants it, he’ll teach her the basics, he won’t go into the extreme shit, cause she’s young and he doesn’t want her to have more strength than control

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halsteadlover · 6 months

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

*Gif and pic not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your life is amazing. You have everything you wished for, a caring and beautiful husband, a satisfying job, an amazing house. What if in a matter of seconds, your incredible fairy tale is about to take a tragic twist?

• Warnings: angst, mention of car crash, blood, wounds, curse words, death.

• Word count: 7580.

• A/N: Please don’t kill me. Y’ALL BETTER EAT THIS FIC UP BECAUSE I PUT MY BLOOD AND SWEAT AND TEARS (always pretty please). I hope you’ll like this piece I know I was heartbroken writing it. Drop a like, a comment and reblog if you want, it’d be amazing and so helpful. I apologize for any mistake or grammar error. Thank you so much as always for your support, looking forward for your opinion. ❤️

“Baby!”.

“Y/n!”.

“You hear me? Please answer me”.

“Please hold on, everything will be okay I promise. Please… Don't leave me.”

What was going on?

Why did you feel so weak?

Where was Spencer?

Your breathing was heavy, cold shivers ran through your body but despite this you couldn't move a single muscle even if you could feel your body waving to an unknown motion, like you were floating.

Am I moving?

You felt your eyelids fighting not to stay closed even if you tried with every fiber of your body to fight against that tiredness that wanted so badly to suck you into the darkness.

You were so afraid.

You managed to slightly open your eyes, only for a fraction of a second, and all you saw was a blinding white light that forced you to close your eyes right after. It was so strong you couldn't open them again.

What it was?

Was it heaven?

Were you dead?

“Please baby hold on, if you hear me please fight, I know you’re so strong. I’m begging you… Stay with me…”

Spencer?

Yes, there was no doubt that it was him even if his voice carried in the distance, each word fading further and further. You wanted so badly to answer him, to shout you were okay, that you could hear him, that you were there with him.

But were you really okay?

No, I’m not.

And the more you fought against the darkness, the more it sucked you into its heavy vortex.

You fought, you really tried, but you didn't have the strength. You were too weak, too tired.

You just wanted to rest for a bit.

God please let me okay.

You eventually gave up, stopped fighting and let yourself be lulled by that darkness.

It was so peaceful.

There wasn’t any more pain. Any suffering.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Five hours earlier

“I really don't feel like going to work this morning,” your husband kept complaining. You were both still in your bedroom, you were sitting while Spencer was lying next to you, his arm around your hips and his head on your lap.

“Hotch will kill you if you take a day off without warning,” you giggled, running your fingers through his fluffy hair. “I also wish you could stay here love, I feel so lonely here without you. But unfortunately you can’t.”

Spencer huffed, holding you even tighter. “I know I'm so sorry baby, I hate leaving you alone. I'm always so worried.”

“Oh yeah I know, the three thousand texts you send me always asking me if I'm okay prove it.” You teased him and even though you couldn't see him you knew full well he rolled his eyes.

“Ah, ah, keep making fun of me,” he retorted. “Is it really weird I want to keep you safe?”.

“No baby, I was joking. You know very well I love you're so protective of me and besides, I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He kept caressing your side, leaving a kiss on it at the level of your scar, a gesture that made your heart melt. He looked up at you and smiled before propping himself up on his elbows, resting his free hand on your face and pressing his lips on yours. A flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach.

It didn't matter how long you two were together, you felt the same butterflies, the same feeling as in the early days, he still managed to make your heart skip a beat with just a kiss.

God I love this man so much.

“What will I do without you?” Spencer pouted, already missing you before he even got out of bed and got dressed. “I just hope we won’t have any case.”

Spencer had left for work, but not before recommending you to call and text him if you needed anything. You reassured him, telling him not to worry, that everything would be fine and of course you wouldn't hesitate to call him.

You settled on the couch and spent the morning watching episodes of your favorite TV show which, although you loved it, was getting tiresome.

Three weeks earlier you had been injured on duty while chasing a serial killer who had shot you as he tried to escape.

You were fine but Spencer, being his overprotective self, refused to let you do anything that involved physical effort and prevented you in any way from returning back to work before the five weeks of rest recommended by the doctor. And it didn't help that Hotch agreed with him.

Spencer did nothing but text you all morning when he could, asking how you were as if you were in a hospital bed. You reassured him, sending him selfies of you lying on the couch, asking him how things were going at the unit.

You loved Spencer so much, you loved the way he always protected you, the way he was so thoughtful of you, the way he always put you first in any moment and situation.

The morning was rather boring so you decided to keep yourself busy with cooking something for lunch, that you wanted to bring to Spencer too since you missed him and didn't want to wait until the evening to see him again. But you also wanted to see the rest of the team again. You hated to say it, but you missed those assholes.

As you packed your and Spencer's lunch, your phone vibrated on the table.

From: Spence 💍, 12.47 AM Is it weird I miss you so terribly? I'll never get used to not seeing you here.

You smiled like an idiot, knowing how much Spencer wasn't a fan of technology but despite this being committed to use it since you couldn't live without it.

To: Spence 💍, 12:50 AM Have I ever told you I’m so madly in love with you Doctor Reid? I miss you so much more xx

You placed your phone on the table and continued putting away your lunch. When you finished, you grabbed some clean cutlery and paper napkins and then looked at your phone, noticing he didn’t answer your text yet.

You left the house after making sure you locked the door, you went to your car, pulling your phone out of your purse to send an audio message to Spencer.

“Baby don’t eat anything because I'm coming with your favorite food. It's a little burnt I have to admit, but in my defense I was distracted watching TV,” you let out a small laugh. “If you know what's best for you, you'll better say it's delicious or you'll sleep on the couch tonight. I love you so much, see you soon!”.

You got into your car and placed the two lunch boxes on the passenger seat. While driving, you were careful not to brake suddenly to avoid all the food spilling into your car.

You stopped at a red light and you took you phone to see if Spencer had texted you back but he didn’t.

The light turned green after almost thirty seconds and you placed your phone in your purse again before starting to drive again. You were at an intersection and you just drove few meters before your saw out of the corner of your eye a car speeding towards you.

You turned your head towards it and tried to brake but you weren't very fast.

Everything happened quickly.

A sudden, deafening thud made your ears ring and time seemed to stop for an instant.

You didn't have time to react, to even let out a scream or do anything else before that car hit you full force on the side.

If someone had asked you to describe what had happened in that moment, you wouldn’t have been able to do it because you didn’t even know what had happened in the first place, having lost consciousness before you could realize you had just been involved in a car crash.

Spencer was unaware in the meantime his whole life was about to undergo something he’d never, ever want to face, something he continually lived in fear of happening.

He and the rest of the team were in the meeting room, investigating on a case of a serial killer that the police in a nearby town had asked for help with. It was a simple case, so it wasn't even necessary for the whole team to go there.

“Reid focus.” Hotch had warned him several times when during the morning he caught him on his cell phone, the small smile shadowed his lips making it obvious who he was talking to. So he had put his cell phone in his pocket although his mind always went towards you.

He wondered what you were doing although knowing you, you were probably watching some TV show and the thought of you lying on the sofa, curled up under the blanket made him smile, earning you a small pat on the back of the head from Morgan.

“Focus pretty boy, I know you miss your beautiful wife but we have a case to solve.”

This had started a series of jokes and teasing towards Reid who in response would gave everyone the middle finger.

The truth was that he missed you deeply, he missed looking up and seeing you sitting at your desk filling out some case report with your pen between your lips and the wedding ring shining on your finger, he missed flirting with you in a not-so-subtle way and being made fun of by the whole team, even Hotch. He missed traveling from city to city and working with you to catch ruthless killers, he missed seeing you sitting in your chair around the meeting room table.

He couldn't wait for those two more weeks to pass, although the worry you still hadn't fully recovered didn't leave his mind.

His phone suddenly started ringing and he muttered an 'excuse me' before taking it out of his pocket and reading your name on the screen.

He moved away from the others so he could answer the call.

“Hi baby! What...-” He started but stopped immediately after when a voice that didn't belong to you interrupted him, making the smile he had on his lips instantly disappear.

“Do you happen to know Y/n Y/Ln? We found this number among the emergency contacts.”

Spencer frowned, his heart already eating wildly and anxiety twisting his guts. “Y-yes. She’s my wife… What's going on? Who am I talking to? Where’s she? Is she okay?”.

“I'm sorry to inform you that your wife was involved in a car accident, she’s in serious conditions…”

Spencer froze in place, the man's words echoing in his head while he couldn't process them.

What the fuck?

“C-can you repeat that?” He stammered, hoping it was just a misunderstanding, that the man had gotten the wrong person. “There must be a mistake m-my wife… She’s… She’s at home…”

“I’m very sorry sir…”

Spencer Reid, who had always been a quiet, calm and collected person, completely lost his mind.

After getting the address of the car crash site he ran at lightning speed out of the unit, ignoring the voices of Derek and the rest of the team who called him worriedly.

His mind wasn't focused on anyone else but you and as he sped through the streets he couldn't help but think about what the hell had happened.

You were supposed to be home, on the couch watching TV. Why did you went out? Why didn't you text him?

His stomach clenched with anxiety, an emotion he wasn't familiar with but since he'd met you he often seemed to feel because of the constant and devastating fear something bad might happen to you.

He wasn't good with feelings, everyone knew it, but thanks to you he had learned to give voice to what he felt, he had learned to embrace those sensations and emotions he struggled to show from an early age and that for so long he wanted to suppress.

A lump kept pressing on his throat, almost suffocating him. He continued to murmur and hope you were okay but when he arrived at the scene his heart almost stopped again.

The car crash scene was a disaster.

Various passers-by had gathered in shock from a distance to watch curiously as the fire fighters and paramedics worked on those piles of scrap metal that were the cars.

They were completely destroyed and no one believed the two drivers had made it given the catastrophic impact.

Various emotions had passed through Reid, emotions that he could group into one word: dying. That’s how he felt, dying.

He pushed through the crowd of people, pushing them aside and ignoring those who complained in response. After identifying himself with the cops he ran towards the wreckage where the rescuers and firefighters had just pulled you out of the destroyed car.

“Let me go! That's my wife right there!” He continued to exclaim loudly while two cops struggled to restrain him. His gaze was fixed on you, on your unconscious body while the rescuers carried you on the stretcher.

“Sir you need to let the paramedics do their job! I know it's a horrible situation but this will only hinder them!”.

Spencer was a guy who didn't like conflicts but at that precise moment he was willing to kill those cops with his bare hands.

He snorted loudly, pulling out his badge. “I'm an FBI agent and if you don't let me go to my wife right now I will make your life a living hell and have your badges on my desk before tomorrow.”

It only happened very few times he’d threatened someone, and most of them were to extort information or to make a killer to confess, but the way his wild and desperate eyes were glaring at the two cops, made them understand he wasn't bluffing at all.

They eventually let him pass and he ran towards you.

You lay unconscious on the stretcher, your body covered in your own blood. You had an oxygen mask on your face, a collar around your neck to stabilize it and Spencer had to rely on all the strength he had in his body not to collapse there in front of everyone.

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe it was true.

He grabbed your hand with his, the diamond of your ring pressing against his palm. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, not wanting to let his emotions overwhelm him. He couldn't be weak, not now, not when you needed him.

“Baby!”.

He called your name, desperation clear in his voice. His eyes scanned your face, always beautiful as the sun even if dotted with scratches and bruises.

“Y/n!”.

He called your name again, with even more urgency and desperation, hoping that hearing his voice would wake you up.

“You hear me? Please answer me.”

“Sir we have to go to the hospital immediately. We have no time to waste.” The paramedic's voice brought him back to reality and Spencer nodded, never taking his eyes off you.

“Please hold on, everything will be okay I promise. Please… Don’t leave me,” he whispered to you before turning to the paramedics. “I’m coming with you.”

The journey to the hospital was the longest and most painful ride Reid had ever made in his entire life.

He never let go of your hand, occasionally kissing your knuckles as he carefully watched every little movement the paramedics made.

At a certain point his heart rekindled with hope when he saw your eyelids move and open slightly.

“Y/n baby! Can you hear me? Y/n!” He exclaimed but his hope faded when he saw your eyelids close a second later and you lose consciousness again.

“Please baby hold on, if you hear me please fight,” His eyes filled with tears but he tried to fight them back, this wasn’t the time to cry. “I know you’re so strong, I’m begging you… Stay with me… I'm here, I'm here, and I’m not leaving you. Everything will be fine, you’ll be okay.”

You had a cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital but they managed to revive you and needless to say, this freaked out Spencer even more than he already was.

You died in front of him.

For a few moments your heart had stopped beating and the terror Spencer felt was a sensation he had never felt before. Maybe only when something happened to you during the job. He had always told you that you’d give him a heart attack sooner or later.

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Spencer barely had time to say anything before the doctors rushed you to the OR, leaving him helpless.

He passed his hands on his face, then fingers in his hair as he tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

He had heard the police say the driver that hit you had lost control of his car after feeling dizzy, failing to stop at the red light and hitting you while you had just started driving again after the green light.

You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It had all been a stupid twist of fate and now you had to fight to live.

Spencer didn't believe in fate, he didn't believe there was some superior being or entity, he believed in science, in empirical data, in theories proven by hypotheses and theses, but then why did this happen? Why was the love of his life fighting between life and death?

Why did it seem like someone or something wanted to snatch his happiness away when he was finally happy?

He walked back and forth across the floor of the waiting room for what seemed an infinite amount of time, almost digging a ditch in the wake of his footsteps.

He had called Hotch, told him about the car crash and that you were in surgery and he reassured him the whole team would be there in no time.

It wasn't until after you ended the call with Hotch that Spencer saw your last messages, including the audio text you'd sent him.

His fingers were shaking and he sat down, fearing his knees would give out sooner or later.

His eyes filled with tears again as they read the message and the chasm inside his heart opened even more. But it was when he listened to your audio message the air was completely sucked out of his lungs and it became difficult to continue breathing.

“Baby don’t eat anything because I'm coming with your favorite food. It's a little burnt I have to admit, but in my defense I was distracted watching TV,” He heard you giggle while in the background he heard the car door open and close shortly after, a sign that you had just gotten into the car. “If you know what's best for you, you'll better say it's delicious or you'll sleep on the couch tonight. I love you so much, see you soon!”.

Your audio cut out and Spencer only realized he was crying when tears fell from his eyes onto his phone screen.

He was completely devastated.

It was his fault.

You went out because you were going to bring him food.

He couldn't process what was happening, he couldn't conceive it.

How did you go from hugging in bed that morning to you in the OR? For what kind of fucked up reason did this happen to you? Among the many people who could’ve been at that damned intersection, why did it have to be you?

Spencer knew it wasn't right to hope it happened to someone else but he didn’t care, fuck, he wished it’d happened to himself.

For the first time in his whole life Spencer prayed.

He prayed with every fiber of his being to whoever was up there to make you survive, he prayed to be able to see you again, hug you, kiss you again. He prayed to hear your laugh again, your awful jokes, to see your smile and your eyes shining when you saw him, he prayed to be able to sleep with you again, to wake up in the morning and smell the scent of your skin and hair, of feeling your fingers run through his messy hair while you were watching a movie and he had his head resting on your lap.

He prayed to still have time with you. He prayed to start a family with you even though the thought of it terrified him because he had no idea how to be a parent, but at the same time knowing there was no other person he’d want to do it if not you. He begged to tease you when the first wrinkles would appear on your beautiful face but to console you at the same time saying you were still the most beautiful and breathtaking woman he had ever met in his life.

He prayed to see your hair turn white, to see your children have kids of their own, he prayed to hold your hand until the end of your days.

He couldn't imagine a place on the planet where you didn't exist, where you weren't with him.

You two just got married, you had just started your life together, it couldn't all just vanish like that, in the blink of an eye, it just couldn't end.

You were strong. This was one of the many qualities Spencer admired about you, you were much stronger than you wanted to show and if there was anyone who could overcome that obstacle it was you.

The rest of the BAU had arrived after about fifteen minutes, both with worried and heartbroken expressions on their faces except Penelope, who was crying almost as many tears as she had.

“Reid!”.

JJ's voice made Spencer snap his head up from his phone, not realizing he had been mesmerized by looking at the picture he had as his background. It was a photo of you he took during a picnic during one of your first dates after you got together, Spencer had told a horrible joke and you had burst out laughing.

Spencer was so hypnotized by you, by the sound of your laugh, by your smile, by the small wrinkles at the corners of your eyes that he couldn't resist taking a photo and since then it had become his wallpaper and one of his favorite photos of you ever.

Everyone could notice the swelling of Spencer's eyes, evidence of the crying.

“Come here pretty boy.”

Morgan was the first to approach Spencer, pulling him in a brotherly hug, squeezing him with all the strength he had in his body, as if wanting to convey to him some of that strength he knew he tremendously needed.

“She's gonna make it okay? We know Y/n, that woman is a force of nature. She’ll make it.” He whispered in his ear, trying to hold back his emotions.

Everyone tried to appear as strong as possible but the truth was they too felt a boulder pressing on their stomach. Before being Spencer's wife, his partner, you were a colleague, a friend to all of them.

Nobody said anything else.

There were no need for words, everyone knew it’d be of no use.

They all tried to comfort each other, Emily was holding Garcia's hand the entire time, JJ and Morgan were sitting next to Spencer while Hotch and Rossi were standing not far from the others, all silently praying for you wellbeing.

Reid's body was sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by his friends and colleagues, yet his mind was completely elsewhere. His thoughts ran and ran, without stopping, so fast he didn't know which ones to listen to first.

Spencer and the team spent hours sitting in the waiting room, waiting for some doctor to come and update them on your health. He hoped the longer they took it meant there was a better chance of you getting through the surgery.

When he saw a doctor approaching where they were sitting, it was as if a vision manifested in front of him. His heart was beating wildly, so loudly he thought everyone around him could hear it while anxiety twisted his stomach so much he feared he’d throw up on the doctor's feet.

“Are you Y/n Y/Ln's family?” the doctor asked.

“I'm her husband. How is she? Please tell me she's okay. When can I see her?” Spencer blathered once he jumped up and approached doctor - he read the card - Miller.

He looked skeptically at the rest of the team, and then Spencer spoke. “It’s okay, we’re all colleagues, a family. How is Y/n? She made it right?”.

Spencer observed the micro-expressions on Dr. Miller's face. He noticed how his eyebrows furrowed slightly, how his chest rose slightly and fell, how his lips pressed together, how his neck stiffened and his posture tensed.

He knew that expression, unfortunately he knew it too well because of the job he did. It was the same expression with which he looked at the victims’ families when he was about to give them the worst and most devastating news of their lives.

Spencer saw that but decided to ignore it, he decided not to listen to his guts.

“The patient suffered much more serious damage than we imagined…”

“And what are you doing here? Go help her!” Spencer exclaimed, abruptly interrupting the doctor.

“Due to the violent trauma and along with broken bones, the ruptured spleen, the liver damage as well as the amount of blood she lost, she had also suffered a dissection of the ascending aorta.”

Spencer's heart stopped.

“W-what? What does that mean doctor?” It was Penelope who asked.

“It’s the tearing of the aorta’s wall, the largest vessel in our body. It has weakened due to the trauma and it’s no longer able to pump blood towards the other blood vessels and consequently the entire body can’t receive enough blood. Trying to repair it’s practically impossible, as her heart has already stopped once, she’s too weak to face a surgery, and the dissection further aggravates the situation. She would die on the OR table before we can even get to the aorta,” Dr. Miller explained, trying to be as clear as possible.

“Dissection of the ascending aorta is unfortunately one of the most serious vascular conditions and… There is no easy way to say it, we have done everything we can but she does't have much time left. It's a matter of hours…”

A deafening silence fell in the waiting room.

Almost everyone put their hands to their mouths to try to cover the gasps and sobs, Hotch stared at his shoes while shaking his head in disbelief. No one could believe what they had just heard.

Spencer couldn't hear a word Dr. Miller said. His brain refused to process them, because it couldn't be true, there must have been some misunderstanding.

Maybe he had confused patient, maybe he had talked to the wrong family.

“No, no, no!” Spencer exclaimed loudly. Morgan put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it violently. “Don’t touch me!” Then he went on to point a finger at Dr. Miller.

“Say it again.”

“Sir…”

“Reid…” Rossi whispered.

“Say it again!” He shouted, his voice shaking. “Say it! Because there is no way on earth I just heard my wife is fucking dying! Say it again!”.

Spencer's voice cracked at the end and he burst into tears, bending to the ground as he felt his legs gave out.

Dr. Miller looked at Spencer with sadness while he was in the throes of disbelief and despair. Nobody dared to say anything, they too had to process that mourning, but they all knew that Spencer needed time more than anyone.

How do you react calmly when someone tells you that your partner, the love of your life, is about to die?

And it wasn't just any person, someone he just met, but you. You were dying.

Doctor Miller knelt in front of Spencer, placing a hand on his shoulder as he continued to cry all the tears he had in his body. “I'm so sorry, if there had been anything, anything we could’ve done to save her we would’ve done please trust me. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now but she's in the ICU now and she's awake, we gave her morphine so she doesn't feel any pain. Go and say goodbye to her, okay?”.

The world was collapsing on him, everything was disintegrating around him and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

How the fuck did this happen? How the fuck was that possible?

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't process what was happening.

It shouldn't have happened, not to you, you didn't deserve it.

He was terrified, more than he had ever been in his entire life, not even when he had been kidnapped and tortured by a ruthless killer.

Images after images of moments with you continued to flood his mind while a sense of anguish gripped his stomach, so strong he couldn't stop crying.

He cried.

Everyone cried with him in that waiting room, hugging each other.

All his dreams had been shattered, they had all vanished in the blink of an eye, flown away like a grain of sand in the sea.

Where did his ‘forever’ go?

His forever was in the ICU and was about to die. The only person he had ever loved, the only person who had ever understood him without trying to fix him, the only person who had ever made him happy, who had made him understand the meaning of the word love, who had made him believe that even if he came from a dysfunctional family that didn't mean the same fate would happen to him, the only person for whom he lived, breathed, for whom he committed himself every single day to fight his demons and ghosts was about to walk away forever.

How do you survive something like that?

What would he have done without you?

Spencer couldn't live without you.

He couldn't even imagine waking up in the morning and not finding you. He couldn't imagine coming home at night and knowing you’d be dead. He couldn’t imagine going in the kitchen and not smelling your food. He couldn’t imagine watch a romantic movie and not seeing you cry your eyes out.

No, no, no, fuck, that couldn't be true.

One by one they all came to you to say goodbye but no one spoke to each other. Spencer didn’t have the strength to walk into that room, he hoped till the last minute it was just a nightmare and he’d soon wake up.

There was only desperation and so many, many tears. Even Hotchner, always so serious and impeccable, couldn't stop the tears when he left your room, moving away from the others so as not to be seen.

The last one was him.

When it was Spencer's turn he was terrified.

His fingers trembled as they were about to open the door. He didn't have the courage to enter that room, look you in the eyes, say goodbye to his love.

With what strength would he have hugged you knowing it would be the last time? How would he be able to say goodbye? How would he be able to tell you he loved you knowing it was the last time? How could he let you go?

Every step he took was heavy, leaving a piece of his tormented soul behind each one.

Seeing you was like a punch in the stomach, like every time his eyes rested on you but that time what he felt wasn't happiness but only sadness, desperation, anguish and helplessness.

Oh my everlasting love. You didn't deserve all of this.

You lay in bed, a nasal cannula supplying you with oxygen, electrodes connecting your body to monitors that marked a low blood pressure and a below-normal heart rate.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to rely on what little strength he had to not collapse to the floor and burst into desperate tears again. But the shine of his eyes, their swelling and redness showed how intensely he had cried in the last few hours.

You looked at him and he felt breathless.

How will I live without those eyes?

“Hi baby.”

His voice trembled, smiling slightly as he moved closer to you. He couldn't conceive the idea that the last time he had seen you was that same morning and you were fine, while at that moment you were on a hospital bed dying.

He pulled up a chair and sat next to you. He took one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and leaving a kiss on the back of it. All it took was for your skin to come in contact with his for him to burst into inconsolable and suffocating tears again.

He wrapped his arms around your hips, his head resting on your abdomen as you stroked his hair. It was a projection from that same morning but the difference was that this time would be the last.

He would no longer hug you, he would no longer be lulled by the warmth of your arms, feel your fingers run through his messy and tangled hair.

Silence reigned in the room, interrupted only by Spencer's sobs as he continued to cry desperately. He held you like he had never done before, as if in that way he hoped you would stay.

“It's okay…” you barely whispered, weakened and groggy from the morphine.

You felt… Apathetic.

You couldn't describe the emotions you felt at that moment, ever since the doctor told you didn’t have much time you felt anesthetized.

It was as if you were seeing everything from an external perspective, as if it wasn't really you lying on the bed, as if it wasn't you who was going to die in a few hours.

Not a tear had rolled down yours, not even when the rest of your team had come to say their final goodbyes.

You didn't want to feel like this, you didn't want to be apathetic, so numb. You wanted to feel anger, pain, helplessness, anguish, anxiety, anything, you wanted to cry, scream, but the more you tried, the more you couldn't.

“Don’t leave me please…” Spencer's sobs interrupted him. He continued to cling to you, to hold onto you as if his life depended on it.

“Baby, look at me.” Your voice was hoarse, thick with sleep and tiredness.

“No, no, no, I know what you want to tell me… No…” He held you even tighter than before. “You can't leave me…”

He turned his head towards you, his vision completely blurred with tears, his face wet. He brought his hands to your face, caressed your cheeks, your hair and tried as much as possible to imprint every detail of your skin in his memory.

“You're so beautiful baby,” he whispered, “It's not fair…”

“I know,” you whispered back weakly, “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But it's so unpredictable, isn't it?”.

“No, life sucks.”

You placed a hand on his still on your face, closing your eyes for a moment and enjoying the feeling of warmth that only he could give you.

“I know everything seems bad right now, I know you'll think this long after I'm gone but it's not like that love, life doesn't suck. It’s the most beautiful gift we could ever have...” you murmured with no small effort, your breathing heavy and difficult.

He shook his head. “Bullshit. You are my life, baby...” He cried. “I can't live without you. I can't... I can't go home and not find you there, I can't sleep without you next to me, I can't go to work and look up and not find you sitting there at your desk… I can’t…”

“Of course you can you’re the strongest person I know baby, even if you don't recognize it. You’ll be happy again...” You placed a hand on his cheek, drying with your fingers his tears that never stopped coming out. “Promise me one thing.”

“No, no, no, I can't, don't do this to me please… Don't make me promise something I can't keep baby…”

“Spencer, please. I can't leave knowing you won't be happy, please, I need to know you’ll at least try... Promise me...”

A solitary tear rolled down your face, even though you didn't even realize it at the time.

He shook his head, looking down as he continued to cry. He sat down on the bed next to you, pulling you into a hug you tried to return with the little strength you had left.

He left a long kiss on your head, inhaling deeply that beautiful scent he’d never be able to smell again in his life. He rested his cheek on you, letting your hair tickle his skin.

“I can't… I can't…” he repeated, feeling the air disappear more and more from his lungs. “You’re the first person who made me understand what it means to be happy baby… I don’t how to do it without you… D-don't… You can't ask me… I’m begging you…”

You slightly pulled away from him, cupping your hands on his face and smiling slightly through the tears you hadn't even realized you were shedding.

You were crying.

“I wouldn't ask you if I knew you couldn't Spence. I know it’ll be hard but life is beautiful baby, so damn beautiful and deserves to be lived to the full. Plus, I'm not really leaving okay? My body may no longer be here but my soul will always be with you, I’ll always be here when you need me, I will never leave you.” You spoke softly, your breathing heavy with each word. You placed a hand at his heart level which was beating wildly at that moment.

He shook his head again, still crying as desperation enveloped him more and more. “But I-I want you here…”

“Shh, listen to me love, please…” You stopped due to a cough. Spencer rushed to get you a glass of water from the bedside table, helping you drink and stroking your back in the meantime. “Thanks baby.”

Despite the morphine you still felt a weight on your chest, your lungs couldn't expand and everything hurt.

But it wasn't physical pain.

It was your soul that was hurting.

“Listen to me…” You started speaking feebly again, looking Spencer in his eyes, losing yourself in those two beautiful wells. “I need to know you’ll move on baby, that you’ll find someone you’ll love again and who will love you so deeply like I did, with whom you’ll build a beautiful family, with whom you’ll have children, a beautiful house and a dog if you want. This doesn’t mean you’ll forget about me, I’ll always be by your side at every step you take, I promise you, I’ll watch over you and if you need anything you just have to talk to me... Maybe not in front of other people or they’ll think you’re crazy.”

He chuckled through his tears and your heart skipped a beat. “That’s it. That’s the beautiful smile I always want to see, God you make me so happy.”

“There will be no one after you baby.”

“Spence please…-”

“No, no, you can't ask me that,” he murmured, his tone of voice so melancholy and sorrowful it made your gut wrench. “When I married you I never thought for a second there could be an ‘after you’, never, even though I knew the risks we both ran because of our jobs. There will never be anyone after you Y/n, there will never be anyone who can ever make me happy like you do, there will never be anyone I will ever love as much as I love you. It… It wouldn't be right...” He let out a deep sigh “It wouldn't be right for her, for... For the children because I wouldn't love them as much as I love you, because I would look at them and only think I could’ve had all that with you and I don't want that…”

He stroked your hair, looking at you with so much love it made your heart melt.

You didn’t want your time to end. You wanted to be with him, forever.

“Spencer… I-I'm terrified…” You managed to murmur before bursting into desperate, heartbreaking tears. Spencer hugged you while you sobbed into his sweater.

“I know… I know…”

Terrified didn't even come close to describing how you felt at that moment.

I'm dying.

Soon I won't be here anymore.

You couldn't conceive it, realize it, you couldn't accept it. But then again, how could you? Who would ever accept a death sentence?

You weren't ready.

You didn't want to leave Spencer, God, you had so many dreams to achieve together and it wasn't fucking right, it wasn't.

You just wanted to bring lunch and eat with your beloved husband, spend some time with him, why did this have to happen to you? What did you do wrong? You hadn't died from a bullet three weeks earlier but you were about to die for wanting to see your husband.

Why didn't you just stay home? If you had done it you would’ve been fine, you would’ve just had to wait for Spencer to come home that evening so you could hug him again. If you had done it you would’ve slept in the same bed, together that night, perhaps after making love, the next morning you would’ve woken up with his scent and his warmth, you would’ve had breakfast together.

You both cried until you couldn't breathe, holding on to each other as if you were both each other's lifelines.

You felt weak, every moment that passed breathing was like a punch in the stomach even though the oxygen flow had been turned up to maximum.

Hours passed and every minute that passed the fear paralyzed you more and more.

Spencer stayed next to you the entire time, hugging you and tightly holding your hand. You’d think he had shed all the tears he had in his body but instead he had never stopped, he continued to cling to you, to hold you in the hope that a miracle would happen.

He didn't believe in miracles, he thought there was a reason for everything, but in that moment he prayed for one to happen with every fiber of his being.

Your eyelids felt heavy and you struggled to keep your eyes open.

You were tired, so fucking tired, just wanting to rest for a bit but knowing if you definitely close your eyes you wouldn’t be able to open them again.

“Do you think heaven exists?” You whispered in a small, thin voice. Spencer kissed your forehead, continuing to stroke your hair as his salty tears kept running down his cheeks.

“Of course it exists, all the angels are just waiting for you. I'm pretty sure you’ll be the most beautiful angel of all, dressed in white and with the light surrounding you.”

You giggled, only to be interrupted by yet another cough. You were so grateful to have Spencer, that even though he didn't believe in an afterlife, in heaven, in angels, still tried to make you feel better.

“I'm so tired baby…” you murmured, closing your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.

He held you tighter, feeling more tears streak down his face. “I know my love, but you can rest, I’ll always be here I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“Spencer, you are the greatest and most beautiful love I have ever had in life, you made me the happiest I've ever been and I want to thank you for everything, for everything you have done for me, for teaching me the truth meaning of love…” You took a deep breath. “I will love you forever, I hope you know that, in this world and wherever else I’ll go. I know we’ll meet again, even if not in this life, we’ll meet in next one.”

He shook his head in despair as he continued to sob and cry. He wasn't ready to say goodbye, he wasn't ready to let you go, but who he was kidding, he never would be.

“I love you so much my darling, I will always love you until my last breath.”

He kissed your forehead softly again, pressing his lips to your skin longer than expected as he tried to make the most of those last moments with you.

“You’re the best and most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. I love you, always and forever,” he kept whispered, hugging you. But you couldn't hug him back.

You had closed your eyes and fallen asleep, in the arms of the person you loved most in the world where you always wished your last moments would be.

The room was filled with sounds from the monitor connected to your heart, which had started to slow down.

Your heartbeat had slowed.

More and more.

Until it stopped and all that was left was a flat line.

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quiteliterallyilliterate · 2 months

Text

MDNI

So I promise to write the Isekai pt. 2 next, but i had this idea skittering around the back of my brain and I- I just had to. Anyway. This is smut. Kiddos please leave and come back for the next episode.

cw: Completely gender neutral. Sexual content, descriptions of masturbation, oral (m receiving) and lots of praise.

Hope you enjoy~

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Link was a patient man. In every iteration and every universe, it was something that followed him each time— the ability to wait for the sake of a greater sense.To wait as his muscles burned so he could get the best strike. To redo the same puzzles over and over until the dungeon is complete. To learn every small detail about you, even the ones that are irrelevant to most, for even the chance at you loving him even a fraction of how much he adored you.

Loving you was easy. Partly because you made it so easy to be loved that it felt as if it were something inherent to him, written in his soul. Hyrule has walked the span of worlds and yet it was you who he found to be the most precious. Afterall, even among the exceptionality that was Hylia’s heroes, you were an outlier.

For long he waited, passing the time as you grew accustomed to your surroundings and made your place among the chain. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. He would sooner relinquish his magic and bleed his soul into a cold earth than force himself upon you. He may have been raised apart from proper society, but he was no monster of his desire. He is better than that creeping urge beneath his ribs.

But that didn’t change that he could feel it flare when your knuckles brushed his when you’d tag long onto his inevitable wanders. He never found it easy to sit still, but teaming with energy and magic from a full heart meant it was all he could do, to wander. You didn’t need to follow as he went to embrace the world’s soft silence. And yet, wordlessly, you’d offer him your company and follow. You made him wonder, If two arms were not enough to grab a hold on life, perhaps four?

It became familiar to feel his heart lurch as you looked upon him with soft, loving eyes when he healed you. You’d mutter the quietest thanks, just for him to hear. A gift that once marked him as tainted or impure was one that you praised.

The people of his homeland were mean, crooked people. If you weren’t exactly like one of them, you had to be purged. He was shunned by most for his magic. He does not fault them for not trusting what they don’t know, but the bitter cold loneliness got to him more than he’d like to admit. It was many years before he learned to accept that his gifts were not faults as he’d been told. The sooner he shut out the cries of unhappy souls, the sooner he could be happy. Still, he thinks of how perfectly you defied their logic.

You were nothing like anyone he’d known. Strong and defiant, taking orders from only those whom you thought to be good leaders. But you knew when to pull back. How to listen and how to care for fragile things that do not care for themselves.

It was a surprise to quite literally no one that he fell. It was also secret to no one how badly he longed. Mainly in part to his own lovesickness, he was always horrible at suppressing his emotions. But he could endure Legend’s incessant teasing if it meant he could stare at you while the sun bathed your face in just the perfect light.

He was utterly hopeless, at your beck and call for any and all orders. In the society he hailed from, such behaviours were disgraceful of a man. But so long spent being a mistake of magic meddling with mortals meant he didn’t care what they branded him as, so long as he was yours.

He was patient.

Enough so he could watch a fondness beyond friendliness grow behind your eyes.

Enough that he could hold hands with you on late night walks.

Enough that eventually, he’d hold your hand as you travelled and lead you by the small of your back whenever you joined him on his rambles. He celebrated each little milestone, giddy despite his efforts to remain calm.

He could readily recall the first time he cradled one of your hands in his, a cold night’s walk as the first snowfall dusted on whichever Hyrule the chain had wandered into. A shiver racked your body, and he couldn’t find the self restraint to stop himself before grabbing both of your hands and cupping them in his own. He brought them to his lips, almost akin to that of prayer and blew hot air onto your chilled skin. The moment passed slowly as his heart fluttered like a fairy within his ribs.

“Let’s get you back to camp to warm up” He’s still surprised he could manage to suppress the tremble of his voice as he kept one of your hands and led you back. He remembers so clearly the look you passed him with wind-flushed cheeks before your eyes darted into the treeline.

It was not much later on that he realised that this one sided love of his was anything but unrequited. Unfortunate that it happened under the circumstances it did, but it was worth it in his eyes. He hopes that even in the situation where you wouldn’t be bleeding beneath him, he’d still recognize the yearning of your heart. It was hard to miss

the fluttering of your heart as his hands glided over the appropriate grounds of your skin. It was harder to miss the way your soul reached out towards him through the bridge of his magic. The sensation was so unexpected that he faltered for a second, the bond weakening. He welcomed you, his world, with open arms.

It was a longer while yet until he kissed you. Even then it was still debatable, as he didn’t initiate. This time, a humid summer evening. A chorus of critters and crickets accompanying his ramble. He’s still rather unsure what it was about fairy culture that made you reach out and cup the curve of his jaw, but he’d be a fool to complain. Especially considering how gently you kissed him afterwards, stopping him from leaning forward and closing the gap to admire his flustered face for a moment. And for that second, he was suspended in time, lost within the raw feeling of being alive. He’s sure he was shaky at first, but he grew a little more confident as you guided his hands to your hips. You did most of the work in hindsight, gently sucking and nipping at his bottom lip. All he’d ever known told him to be ashamed of the whine you pulled out of him as he squirmed beneath you, but the proud smirk you rewarded him with filled his heart with something other than shame… But it certainly burned equally as much.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to the clearing, no matter how much time had passed or what he tried to distract his thoughts with. Vividly he still feels the sweat clinging to his skin and the pressure on the side of his hips as you shifted to straddle him. Its hard to forget that amount of pure energy and magic rushing through his blood as his heart soared. He just couldn’t keep his thoughts off of you.

Mostly they were innocent: what flowers he could braid to make your crown, what gifts he could adorn you with… things that would make you smile.

But it was those odd nights he couldn’t quite wrangle his mind that he would instead wonder about what would make you keen. What he could do to have you squirming in your seat. Whether or not you’d prefer him be below you or above. Where exactly you’d prefer his hands and lips to explore.

It was now he truly understood the priminality of the mind scape. Things that under any circumstances would have been the former, his mind would skew into the ladder. Sleepy groans as you wake twisted into whines of pleasure as he indulged in drinking down your sweet release from his worship of your sex. Sly calls of his name in teasing being morphed into your beckoning as your hand works his cock.

He tried, hard as he might to shove such indulgences out of his mind. He’d never cross your boundaries.

But is it really crossing boundaries if you’d intentionally slip a hand between his thighs while cuddling?

Is his imagination that far off if you already suck at the sensitive part of his neck?

He did not wish to indulge in being so sacreligious as to deface your divinity. So, he’d resolved to cuddle you to sleep and slip away, as he had tonight. He’d never been particularly too fond about touching himself in any way intimately. It was seen as a sin back home to indulge in pleasure outside its most primal use of breeding. But especially when considering the roads he travelled on were uncharted and dangerous, he never had the time to ever succumb to temptation in the first place.

He fumbled with his pants, eventually freeing his erection that you’d spent the last ten minutes palming. The cold air of the night only served to make him more sensitive, his lungs sucking in the air through his teeth as he rested his head back against the tree he leaned on. Slowly, he loosened his hand from where it was balled up, tightly gripping at the grass beneath him. It was easier, moving his hand to caress the length of his dick, when he imagined it was you. Hylia- how badly he wishes it was you.

He spread his thighs, as if making room for you already as his thumb gently rubs the crown of his cock. He feels his blood pulse as he continues the motion, sending shocks shuddering over the webs that made up his nerves. He slips his hand lower down, groaning as he adds pressure in his grip. The calluses of his hands are rough, contrasting the sensitive skin.

He wishes that you would watch him. Tell him he’s doing it right, kiss the column of his neck and whisper into the shell of his ear how good he’s being.

He wants to be good for you, it’s all he’s ever wanted. Sure, it’s changed now in its deeper meaning— But being a good boyfriend and being a good boy can’t be that different, can they? The thought makes his head swim and go dizzy as his languid strokes turn eager and needy.

He squeezes his eyes shut and blocks out the world to focus on you. Stunning, perfect, intoxicating you. He recalls every raspy whisper telling him how well he’s learning for you, every passing praise he’s collected. He imagined you behind him, working your hand up and down at this painfully stimulating rhythm while telling him you pretty he his as he whines your name.

All it’d take is your order for him to sing your praises and he’s moaning out his begs. His whimpers could be your hymns as he falls to his knees and worships your heat dripping with slick pre-cum. For his offering to you, he’d stay there as your fingers tug at the roots of his hair, letting you cum all over his face as his dick is left neglected. Perhaps if you were truly gracious, you’d let him hump against your leg.

His back arches as he lets out a throaty whine of your name. He sputters and grinds his hips against his hand as ropes of cum spurt from his cock. He pants, his eyes fluttering open as his fuzzy vision works toward refocusing. His blurred senses snap back to normal as a hand cups his jaw and turns his head to the right. Your eyes are half lidded as you scan over his body and the mess he’d made.

“Awe look at you” Your voice purred as your other hand combed through his wavy locks. His swallows thickly as he tries to decipher the expression on your face. What if you hated him? What if he’s too sinful for you? What if you don’t want him anymore? What if- But he finds not an ounce of dismay.

“You sounded so pretty… wailing my name as you came everywhere” His face flushed and his rapid train of thought halted, going to a complete silence.

“I- Hylia- I’m so sorry sunshine-“ He stammered out, only for you shut him up with a kiss, whispering assurances between breaths. He can feel your lips brush past his own as you mumble words of loving adoration. You nip slightly at his bottom lip as your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring his own. One hand finds purchase on his hip bone as the other stays tangled among his hair. He chances your lips as you pull back, tongue darting out to lick his saliva from your lips.

“You look so nice all dazed like this,” You tease as his head spins with you. The hand in his hair slides down to tilt his chin up, exposing his neck.

“Do you mind if I mark you up a bit?” he’d be a fool to ignore the glint in your eye, nothing pure he’s sure of it.

“Fuck- Please” Your thumb presses into his mouth and onto the very tip of his tongue as your lips suckled at the side of his neck. He can’t think of tomorrow’s embarrassment as he tries to hide the marks. His foggy mind can only focus on how amazing your lips feel as they leave bruises and the way his nerves jump when you bite him gently. He tries to beg for more as you lean away, but is stopped by the soft pad of your thumb. He swipes the tip of his tongue across it one last time before it’s removed, much to his dismay.

“Would you like some help?” You ask, bemused as the hand on his hip spread out, your palm flat against the lowest part of his abdomen. He didn’t even notice that he’d gotten hard again. Let alone that he had been arching his back.

“Don't be nervous. I want to make you feel good” Your thumb, still damp with his spit, caressed his cheek with sincerity. Your eyes held nothing but a genuine love. He nodded slowly, eyes wide as they stared back into your own.

“Use your words for me love, I wanna hear you”

“Please- shit m’ so- ah~” His begs were coked from his throat as your hand finally dipped down to fondle his balls. You sunk to right between his thighs, pressing a kiss to the very inside of either one.

“So good of you getting all prepped for me” You cooed, your hands rubbing circles into his thighs and massaging out the tension from being splayed open for so long. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue licking away the bit of pre-cum that followed. You smiled and licked the underside of his length along his veins all the way back up to the head.

“Mnh- Please”

“Please what, dearest” You knew what you were doing, sucking only when he tried to beg for more, reducing him to moans.

“M- mph~ More!” You grinned as he finally got the word out through choked whines.

“Alright” Finally, you took him into the wet heat of your mouth, flattening your tongue as you took him as deep as you could manage, your hands working what you couldn’t. Only to sink back up to focus on the tip while a rush of cold met his shaft.

“F- Ah~ Please” He cried as he rocked his hips, pleading to be returned to your wet mouth. His hands threaded into your hair as you sank back down. He tried his hardest to stop his hips from sputtering, lest he choke you. But something within his mind snapped as he stood at the precipice of pleasure. His hips bucked into your mouth, relishing in the warmth.

When his mind finally cleared and caught back to consciousness he was back at camp, all cleaned up. He was in fresh clothes and felt no stickiness on his skin. Your hands worked carefully as they carded through his hair, twirling at the untamed and uneven cuts. He groaned as a wave of exhaustion rolled over his bones.

“Sh sh” You eased from behind him. He was cuddled up on your chest, starfished over you.

“I cleaned you up and brought you back. You alright? Water? Snack?” He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he shook his head. This is where he was supposed to be, not waiting about for some sake of superficial love or false marriage. He was supposed to be here, loved in your arms.

“You did so well for me,” You pressed a tender kiss to his temple “I love you so much.”

“I love you too sunshine” He mumbled into your skin as sleep dragged him away.

#link x reader #linked universe #lu x reader #lu hyrule #lu hyrule x reader #mdni #baby’s first smut

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shirefantasies · 26 days

Note

hi!!hope your doing okay!

feel free to ignore this ask🎀

but i was just wondering if you could do a reader!with a fear of steepness or heights?

maybe with the fellowship?thank you if you do write this but if you don’t it’s of course okay!!

have a great day!!

We’re getting there that’s for sure 😮‍💨 of course I will! Even if I’m slow I try to do almost all requests I’m comfortable with 🫶🏻 hope you enjoy this love!

The Fellowship Reacting to Your Fear of Heights

Aragorn

It starts one day upon your ride's passing of cliffs. Aragorn catches the apprehension in your eyes. One glance, two, complete aversion, gaze suddenly fascinated at the back of the rider ahead. Guiding his horse forward, he slips into the space between you and the edge. "You need not ride so close to the edge," he tells you. "I didn't know what the others would say," you reply, "if they would laugh." Aragorn shakes his head at that. "Fear of cliffs-fear of all heights- is natural. Many are uncomfortable at the sight of a precipice. Worry not, for I will be here on your outside."

Legolas

It is never spoken. Never does the elf prince confront you, shame you, even state outright that you fear the cliffs crossed and hills scaled. Rather, he caught you by the waist whenever you slipped, the sweetest and most comforting of smiles given to you at your thanks. He organized all formations to keep you on the inside, and beyond that not a single one of them did not include Legolas himself at your side. Sometimes he would make conversation upon seeing your eyes drift toward the precipice, asking you to tell him of home or to look up instead to the stars. Quiet as he was he would ramble to you if you needed your focus drawn, voice anchoring you even in the most mundane of subjects like his interests in botany.

Boromir

"I have seen the change in your eyes when we scale the hills." Looking up from your waterskin, your gaze links with Boromir's. "Are you frightened?" Heart stuttering, a fraction of your mind wonders if he is mocking you despite the sincerity in his voice. "Yes," you admit after the passing of several more heartbeats, "I fear the elevation." You must look as tense as you feel, for Boromir spreads his arms invitingly, openly. "And that is no shame! It is in our nature to avoid danger, is it not? At least if we're smart. Guess at least one of us in this group is." One corner of his mouth quirks up at that, and he reaches over to clap a hand over your shoulder. "Next time just reach out if you'd like a hand to hold. I have two to spare right here."

Gimli

Unable to help the way your breath hitches when your neighbor's horse jostles your own mount, brushing you that much closer to the edge, you momentarily squeeze your eyes shut, ready to be perceived. You are not expecting it to be by who it is, though, as the voice rings out behind you. Gimli is taking his turn to share horses with you, as you had insisted to the rest you did not mind, and you feel his grip on your waist tighten ever so slightly as he speaks. "Not a fan of cliffs, ey lassie/laddie?" Well, you've been found out now. "No," you shake your head, and as you glance back at him he must catch the dismay in your eyes. "No need to look so sad! I certainly don't favor taking a tumble. Can't blame you at all." Your lips form a small 'o' at that. "I...I guess I thought people might laugh," you admitted. "Laugh? At something so...so... why, mundane? Sensible! Laugh and they'll go flying off themselves!"

Frodo

"The cliff." Head snapping Frodo's way, you gave the hobbit a questioning look, urged him to continue. "You fear the cliffs, do you not?" Heart dropping, you just nodded. Would they send you away now that your weakness was spied? Speeding his steps to brush past the others, he approached you, shoulder brushing yours. Moving you closer to safety. "I understand. We certainly have nothing of the sort in the Shire," he lightly joked, but his eyes went serious as he looked up at you, "we are all afraid, I think. You have no cause for shame. You have all of us to keep you safe." "Thank you, Frodo," you smile, resting a hand on his shoulder, "thank you."

Sam

"Here, walk on the other side of me. There we go." Doing as Sam asked, you realized you had never told him of your fear. Perhaps the spikes of worry were simply that plain upon your face. "Was it that obvious?" You couldn't resist asking. "Oh, I beg your pardon, but I did see you flinch away from the edge there," Sam answered, tilting his head to peer into your eyes, "'s nothing to worry about, though. I don't fancy falling myself. I just wanted to make you more comfortable." The earnest of his words got to you, pouring warmth straight down your heart and moving you to throw your arms around him before you can stop yourself. The surprise caught you, but Sam's smile when you pull away tells you that once again you had nothing to worry about.

Merry

"Whoa, watch out!" Merry's call came just a moment too late as your foot slipped on a loose rock, your balance sliding out from under you and setting your heart pounding. The hobbit came and took your hand to right you, but panic still spiked through your chest down to your limbs. "You alright?" Light as the question was, it was clear by the intent shining in his green eyes that the hobbit was not letting you go until you could confidently say yes. Several heavy breaths later, you nodded. "It's ok," he breathed, "I've got you, alright?" Smiling faintly, you nodded, and Merry squeezed your hand. "In fact, I'll stay right by your side this whole way."

Pippin

"What do you say?" Pippin spoke your name eagerly, waving an encouraging hand. "Want to climb the trees there for a bit? Might be some fruit for us if we get far enough." A small course of apprehension ran through you even at the thought, at the sight of the boughs and the majestic plant that seemed to tower over you. You shook your head. "No, thank you, you two go ahead." Far more enjoyment would come from simply watching him and Merry go. Pippin's brow furrowed at your refusal. "Not one for climbing?" "No," you admitted with another small shake of your head. "Well," he rested his hands firmly on his hips, "then I'm not going, either." "Oh, no, really I don't mind," you waved him off, "just because I'm scared doesn't mean-" "It's not that," Pippin insisted, eyes shining, "I'd rather be here with you."

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagines #lotr x reader #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #legolas #boromir #gimli #frodo #sam #merry #pippin #ask #anon #requested

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whoistartaglia · 2 years

Text

he gives you his sweatshirt headcanons. part three.

part one. part two.

including: kazuha, xiao, and al haitham.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff.

notes: literally writing part four right now.

kazuha.

“what are you doing?”

you immediately dropped the sweatshirt you were holding and spun towards its owner, plastering what you hoped looked like an innocent smile on your face.

kazuha thought it looked entirely guilty.

“nothing,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back.

kazuha raised his eyebrows and peered at the sweatshirt abandoned on the floor behind you.

“nothing?” he asked, incredulous. you shifted to stand directly in front of the sweatshirt and nodded, a little too eagerly for it to be convincing.

“nothing at all,” you confirmed.

“i don’t think stealing my sweatshirt is a whole lot of nothing,” kazuha said, side stepping you to pick it up. gently, he folded the sweatshirt and placed it back in an open drawer—

you mentally kicked yourself. you forgot to close it.

“okay, okay,” you said, holding your hands up in admittance. “it just looked so comfortable…”

you trailed off. kazuha turned back to you, and with a gentle smile, replied, “yes, i know it is. but you have your own.”

“but i want yours,” you said, almost whining.

“give me one good reason why you want mine over yours,” kazuha challenged.

“your sweatshirt is soft and comfortable and oversized—”

“so are yours—”

“and yours smell like you,” you finished. kazuha opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. you sighed, figuring kazuha was just trying to find the right words to deny you again, and continued, “it’s fine though. i don’t need it.”

you thought that was the end of it. the conversation was certainly over at that point, and you thought you might never wear his sweatshirt. maybe kazuha just didn’t want you touching his stuff, much less his clothes.

but when you came home after waving kazuha off on another voyage with the crux and found his sweatshirt, laid out for you on the kitchen table, you realized that maybe he did want you to wear it after all.

xiao.

xiao always appeared right after you called his name, and this time was no different.

“what?” he demanded, a little impatient. “i just left. what could you possibly want now?”

a little taken aback at his harsh tone, you hesitated, and said, “you… you forgot this.” you gestured to the sweatshirt in your arms, large and oversized.

xiao’s eyes widened by a fraction before they narrowed. curiously, you might have thought he was pouting. but that wouldn’t make sense. you thought that maybe he was just annoyed he forgot it in the first place? you wondered if you were wrong to summon him for such a slight mistake.

xiao snatched the sweatshirt from you, and without another word, he was gone.

after your next date, xiao forgot his sweatshirt… again. this time, as to not bother xiao by summoning him again over such a trivial matter, you returned it to him the following day. but still that unhappy pout, and you were quite sure it was a pout now, persisted.

you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

on the third time it happened, xiao looked even more annoyed and… was that disappointment?

“are you not relieved? to have it back?” you asked.

xiao didn’t say anything, and you thought he wasn’t going to respond, before he replied, “no. i am not.”

“what? why? i haven’t worn it or—“

“that’s the problem,” he said, cutting you off. feeling a little bold, and feeling like he should have done this in the first place, xiao gently placed the sweatshirt over your very confused head. “don’t make me spell it out for you, [you]. just… wear it. please.”

you pulled your arms through the sleeves and poked your head out from the top. you still looked a little perplexed, but nodded all the same. “okay… sure, i will. thanks.”

it was only then that xiao at last felt relief. you were finally wearing his sweatshirt.

he just hoped you wouldn’t return it next time he saw you.

al haitham.

al haitham was intelligent. he was so incredibly intelligent that it took you by surprise on numberous occasions.

but right now, you could only think that he was possibly, just a little, kind of, maybe… dumb. well, maybe that wasn’t the right word for it. if your vocabulary was nearly half as large as his, you might have a better word to describe it. perphaps ignorant was better? or maybe dense?

whatever it was, al haitham just… wasn’t getting it. you asked for his sweatshirt and he, for all his intelligence, didn’t seem to understand why.

when he asked you as much, you responded, “because… it’s cold?”

a flimsy excuse, and you both knew it. during the middle of the day, the sumeru desert was anything but.

“it’s not—“

“i know, i know,” you said, cutting him off. you were growing frustrated now. your previous explanations of the sweatshirt being comfortable and perfectly oversized didn’t cut it, either.

honestly, this was all so unnecessary. couldn’t al haitham, who knew you had a crush on him and felt a begruding affection for you in return, just give you his sweatshirt?

“i really don’t see a reason why you need to wear my sweatshirt,” al haitham stated.

“maybe because i like you and it’s just something cute? like what couples do?”

you wanted to take back the words as soon as they left your mouth. you hadn’t wanted to officially confess your feelings to al haitham, but unfortunately for you, you did just that.

“i didn’t realize we were a couple.” al haitham grinned, smug and knowing. it was then that you realized you might have underestimated him.

he was smart enough to know why you asked him for his sweatshirt, and even more so to understand he was expected to give it to you. but why not have a little fun with it? and he even managed to get a confession out of you along the way.

you sighed, both resenting and admiring that wicked mind of his. “you… i can’t believe— whatever. we’ll talk about thatlater, but… can i still have the sweatshirt?”

al haitham, done with his scheme, nodded. the sweatshirt was just as comfortable and warm as you imagained, perfect for cool desert nights.

you had his sweatshirt. but more importantly, you had al haitham and his heart, both wrapped around your little finger.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #kazuha headcanons #kazuha x reader #xiao headcanons #xiao x reader #al haitham headcanons #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

Text

Palomino Masterlist

COMPLETE | Explicit 🔞 NO minors allowed

Jack Daniels x F!Reader

Note: You guys voted for Palomino to be the next WIP after Consent, and who am I to refuse? But honestly, thank you for voting for Jack, because I've been dying to write this story. If you'd like to be tagged, please comment, reblog or sign up at my taglist.

Part 1: Palomino

Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you'd booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need.

Part 2: Buckskin

It's an eventful first day on the trail, to say the least.

Part 3: Dapple Grey

Tinder is a dangerous game. So is Never Have I Ever.

Part 4: Strawberry Roan

Jack pulls out all the stops for your birthday. All of them.

Part 5: Appaloosa

You and Jack play house for a day.

Part 6: Mustang

On the fifth day, you leave the Halfway House behind, and the conversation turns homeward.

Part 7: Fleabitten

You and Jack spend your last night together in the mountains - for now.

Part 8: Silver Pony

And just like that, your week at the Statesman Ranch comes to an end, leaving you grappling with the prospect of saying goodbye to Jack.

Part 9: Warmblood

The hardest goodbye you’ll ever say.

Oneshots & drabbles

Deleted scenes from the series that I didn't have the word count for.

Bernaise: You watch Jack cook. Deleted scene from Part 4 - Strawberry Roan.

If Only: Jack smiles and brushes a thumb across your cheek. If only you knew.

Peeks into Jack and Darlin's life after the end of the series.

Pressing: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Real: You call Jack after running into your ex at a wedding.

Cowgirl Aesthetics: 'This dress won't last ten minutes in a real horse yard and you know it, darlin''.'

Headcanons

Miscellaneous headcanons - some requested, some no one asked for.

Visuals

Mostly made/commissioned for A Palomino Farewell.

Special edition chapter banners

Horses of Palomino

Palominogram: About last night

Palominogram: The cellar

Commissioned art

Belt buckle inspiration

Moodboard: Buckskin

Moodboard: Palomino

Horse girl representation

Recipes

Mama Daniels' express chili: featured in Fleabitten

Poppy's chocolate & rum cupcakes: featured in Strawberry Roan

Bonus content

Art and misc. generously gifted by my sweetest friends ❤️

A Palomino Farewell

Palomino playlist

A birthday message from cowboy Jack and Cowboy yearning by the most talented @guiltypleasure-art

Palomino edit by the loveliest Heidi @wildemaven

Moodboard by the sweetest Keira @k-ra

Playlist by sweetest Sil @psychedelic-ink for A Palomino Farewell

Palomino-inspired cocktail recipe by darlin' Skye @iamskyereads

I can't believe that Palomino now has its own cocktail!!! I'm so honoured that Skye created and shared this recipe with us. All the elements are perfect, from the Campfire whiskey (Darlin's favourite time of the day - snuggling with Jack by the fire), apple (If Only reference) and Ginger (who convinced Darlin' not to cancel the trip). I cannot wait to try this cocktail myself, thank you so so much my love ❤️

More notes: This is a very personal story to me as I grew up loving and riding horses. I've been lucky enough to go on several horseriding holidays, and I'm writing directly from experience - except the hot cowboy part, sadly. Even if you don't ride, I hope you enjoy this story, and I will be the happiest writer if I impart to you even a fraction of the joy of exploring the great outdoors from the back of a steady (or speedy) steed.

{ Inspo }

{ Main Masterlist | Taglist }

#kingsman the golden circle #jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfiction #kingsman fanfiction #jack daniels AU

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xmissrogersx · 1 month

Text

“Shit, i love this skirt” | Joel Miller

tags: Post-Outbreak. Fluff. +18. Period issues.

a note from pris: i write this during my period, and all i want to say is I NEED A JOEL IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila’ masterlist

-Do you have the same one but in another color?

“Count to 10, Paris" I said softly, otherwise I'm going to kill the stupid girl in front of me. One, two, three...

-It's a blanket they picked up on patrol, not a pair of Manolo Blahnik.

-What's that? -said the one next to her. You're kidding me, they must be in their 40's and have no idea what i just told them.

-Are you going to take it or not? -they looked at each other, causing me to take a breath and pick up my mental count and avoid exploding.

-Are you sure there isn't another color?

I could swear my eye twitched the moment I got up from my chair, which caused the others in the room to turn their gazes towards me.

-Hey…why don't we go outside, okay? -Maria approached me and pulled me out, preventing something worse from breaking out.

-Sorry, but i couldn't stand those two assholes anymore —I explained, putting my hand on my belly as I suddenly felt a cramp, making it obvious what was happening to me. I hated it when my period came. She put my hand on my lower back for support.

-Why didn't you tell me and stay home? I know it sucks when it happens, honey.

I nodded slightly, not ignoring the truth, although deep down I wanted to keep my job at Jackson.

-Does Joel know?

-No, no. I didn't want to worry him, he had the patrol with Tommy and if I told him he'd probably chain me to the bed and not let me out.

-As if you don't like it when he do that —she said, raising her eyebrow, provoking a laugh from both of them.

-Don't make me laugh, I feel like I'm going to fall over.

-Speaking of Rome —she nodded his head at the entrance.

Getting off his horse and cleaning his shotgun, he was wearing a T-shirt that clung to his body due to the heat of the incipient summer that was already approaching, along with pants that molded his strong legs. Even if they had shouted that they were attacking us this damn moment, I couldn't take my eyes off him.

-All mine...—Maria laughed softly when she saw my expression.

-You're so horny, girl —walking over to the Millers, but not before approaching Joel, who quickly raised his gaze to me. He walked away from them, and in big strides was already lifting me up in his arms.

-Joel...

-Why didn't you tell me, baby? —He locked his beautiful brown eyes in mine.

-I love you... very, very much —I smiled innocently.

-That's not going to work,pretty girl.

-I'm sorry, daddy —I whispered the latter in his ear and kissed his lobe, getting a growl from him and a little giggle from me.

We walked through the front door, where he deposited me on the living room couch and then kissed my forehead and went upstairs to prepare the bathtub, since the book I had read and under Mary's advice, the hot water helped the cramps in my belly.

Just for one second imagine for a minute this man with glasses on reading a manual about the female period. When I thought Joel couldn't be more attentive and gentle, I caught him in that situation.

-Hi, Paris —Ellie walk inside and set his backpack aside.

-Hi,cutie, how was school?

-I hate fractions, seriously, why the fuck do I want to know how to divide a cake, I just split it and that's it.

-First of all, language. Second, it's important that you know it, even if you don't believe it, it's useful for everyday life.

-Like what? -He frowned and I opened my mouth to answer, but no word could come out of my lexicon.

-You're right, they're not good for shit —I answered with a laugh from her.-Well, I'm going upstairs…

-¡Paris, your skirt! -she suddenly exclaimed. I turned my head to literally see the fabric covering my ass with a small red stain.

-¡La puta madre! ¡Shit, i love this skirt! it's my favorite, i was going to wear this for your presentation.

-We can wash it, Maria must have something or some weird substance to fix it.

My eyes glazed over at how worried she was about me. Just like her father. I wrapped my arms around her body, to which she reacted in kind. On the outside many times Ellie appeared to be a tough and somewhat coarse girl, but it was only because of the constant struggle she had gone through for the longest and shortest part of her life. She's just a kid.

-I know how bad it is when it happens to you, and you don't deserve it —she said with her face in my chest, her voice distressed.

-Relax, I'm fine —I whispered, stroking her hair —I couldn't be better, I have my family and that's all I need.

-Being a woman sucks, I wish I was half as brave as you —she looked up at me, to which I laughed to hug her tighter as I quickly denied.

-I don't agree, ¿you know why? Because we are intelligent, fearful, brave. You faced unimaginable things, Ellie, and every time you came out of it, you got stronger.

-She’s right.

We both turned around when we heard him. He walked towards us and wrapped us in his arms to lift us off the ground laughing in unison.

-Let go of me, I have to go, old man —she pulled out of his grip to run away.

-So...we have about, what, ¿2 hours for Ellie's play? —I frowned uncomprehendingly, to which he once again pulled me back to my feet —I brought chocolate almonds, just the way you like it.

Damn crazy hormones. Tears began to fall down my cheeks as if a waterfall was flowing down my face. He tried to calm me down but I put my hand on his lips, silencing him.

-Joel, please, you don't want to take me like that after you see me from behind —I said embarrased.

-You have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Actually, I like the way you looked at me when I came in from the raid —I opened my mouth wide.-You made me feel attractive —he said softly, to which I immediately brought our lips together.

God, I'd been holding back since this morning, points for holding back.

-Joel Miller, did you ever look in the mirror? —I stroked his mustache and beard.-Because I can assure you that Jackson's women do.

-I don't care, darlin'. The only one who can bring me to my knees is you. And I should also say that I've seen you get looks from more than one idiot at the bar.

I sighed and kissed his cheek. We went into the bedroom, and he put me down on the bed to bend down and start taking off my shoes.

-You're mine —he said kissing my thigh as he began to undress me, making me hold my breath. He wanted to etch into my skin that I belonged to him, now and always.

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asexual-abomination · 10 months

Text

This is the first part of a rewrite of the series that brought attention to my blog in the first place! When I wrote this series originally, it was at midnight when I couldn’t sleep because I had COVID, so I always wanted to come back and rewrite it with a clearer mind.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, cause I’ve been real stressed about university, but waking up to new notes on this blog is always a highlight of my day! I have so many WIPs for hxh, Overwatch, ff7, the batfamily, and now the spider-verse movies, but I’ve been struggling to complete them to an extent that I feel is worth posting.

Please leave a comment if you want me to rewrite the rest of the series!

Platonic!Yandere!Phantom Troupe X Autistic Reader (Soulmate AU)

Content warnings: Yandere, vague mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

“To my dearest soulmate.-“

No, too affectionate.

“To my soulmate, I am incredibly excited to welcome you here-“

The sentence is jarring, start with an introduction.

“To my soulmate, my name is YN, and I am so excited to finally have the chance to communicate with you!”

Good enough. You were so happy to be writing a letter like this, being able to rewrite and start over as often as needed, without the pressure of saying it right in the first try.

Having finished one sentence, you sighed as you looked down at the number of things you had crossed out before it seemed right. Then, you turned to your notebook, where you had spent years collating everything you wanted to put into this letter, trying to find some inspiration for what to do next.

“I have been awaiting this day, carved into our bodies, for my entire life.”

Was that too formal? Too strong?

Ugh. This was hard.

You despised knowing nothing about your soulmate, the enigma of their identity making them feel otherworldly and strange. Without knowing even the slightest bit about who they were, you had no frame of reference for what they would consider too much or too fast, leaving you to blindly feel your way towards a half-coherent letter.

Jo was sat across from you, in their favourite shabby armchair, pretending to watch the football you had put on for background noise, and not-so-secretly keeping an eye on you. From your dejected sigh as you curled up on the sofa, your childhood friend could tell what was bothering you from a single glance.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, they’re your soulmate, they’ll love you no matter what.”

“But they shouldn’t!” You sighed, “I want to impress them, make them feel welcomed and happy!”

“And that’s what I’m gettin’ at! Their personality must be suited enough to yours that they’ll find your way of doin’ things loveable!”

You grumbled with no coherent response, looking again at your paper.

They’d find your way of doing things loveable.

You could work with that.

“I hope that I, and my friends, can make you feel happy and welcomed in my home. The time we will spend, with our bodies swapped, will be precious, and there will never be another time like it in our lives. You are precious to me.”

Your lips tugged downward in a frown at the last line, the irritating thoughts about potentially annoying your soulmate flooding you again. You had just let the pen run wild, trying to encapsulate even the smallest fraction of your feelings about the situation, which always ended up feeling like too much as your emotions overwhelmed you.

Just as you considered scrapping the whole thing and starting again from scratch, Jo caught your eye with a stern glare, as they always did when you doubted yourself.

“I have longed to know who you are for years; your mystery has entranced me. I want to see the destiny the universe has seen fit to bestow upon us both."

As you relaxed into the motions of the pen, the waterfall of words falling from your fingers, you stunned yourself with short poetic verses.

"Even though romance holds no place in what has been destined for us, I want to make you so happy that you may bear your heart to me as I may for you. Please take care of my body while you have it. I hope that one day I might trust with this on more than just blind faith.

All my love, from the bottom of my heart, your soulmate."

It felt weak. You felt weak.

Was it really right to say you loved someone you hadn't met? Even as soulmates, it felt like a betrayal.

"Hey Jo, do you mind reading through this for me? If I keep looking at it, I'll either throw it away or throw up."

"Ahh, YN, you know I'm not so good with words and that stuff, yeah? That's your job, ain't it?"

"Oh, hush, I've read your poetry, you big romantic!"

"What?"

You quickly hurried past them, dropping the drafted letter onto their lap before heading to the kitchen. Your hands were shaking; you needed to get some water before you passed out.

Your breaths were coming short as you downed a second glass of water, one arm shakily holding the lip of the sink for support as the anxiety began to weigh on your mind. You had less than a week; on this Sunday evening, you'd lie in bed and wake up in the body of your soulmate. It was Tuesday evening, the soft autumn air swirling dead leaves outside your window.

A phone began ringing in the living room, so you set down your glass on the draining board and began heading back through, only to realise the call wasn't for you when you heard Jo's voice.

"Yeah, I hear ya. No need to yell, old man... Oh, shut yer trap; you know I'm only half joking... You know I said wasn't working tonight... Yeah, yeah... You piece of shit! Fine, I'll be there, but you better be payin' me double time for this shit."

Jo rounded the corner, grumbling under their breath. They paused at your side, leaning in slightly to speak, the smell of beer on their breath and thankfully not overwhelming.

"Listen, yer letter was grand, okay? You've got a talent for these sortsa things. I've gotta head out, alright? Probably won't be back until morning. I'll bring you back something nice alright, repayment for skipping what should have been a nice night together."

"It's alright, really. Just take care of yourself, okay?" You reassured them.

They walked out into the biting chill, heading down a dark alley like it was their own front door.

--//--

Chrollo looked himself in the eyes, the cold water he splashed on his face dripping from his hair.

He had felt strange the past few days, like something was clinging to the back of his mind, tugging his attention away from his work. As if a song was stuck in his head, but he couldn't remember the melody.

The Mediterranean heat must have been getting to his head; that was the only explanation. He composed himself, wiping his brow before he went to slick his hair back, turning his focus to the heist he and the Troupe would be carrying out that Sunday.

--//--

The week had been long and stressful for everyone involved. You tried not to be too much of a perfectionist, but you wanted to make the best impression possible.

The morning of the day you would switch was upon you, and you came downstairs to find Jo asleep on your couch, as they often were. You smiled at their sleeping face, very peaceful compared to their usual furrowed brow.

Their face was made up of sharp lines, almost geometric perfection, except for the mess of freckles covering their cheeks and forehead, adding just a hint of softness.

As you prepared breakfast for the two of you, Jo woke up with a sleepy groan, trudging over to the kitchen counter.

"Today's the day, huh? The last day of me being your best friend?"

"Jo! Don't say it like that! I'll always love you, you know that!" You defended yourself.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm just joking. You deserve to be happy with your soulmate."

You frowned at that again, remembering the situation with Jo's own soulmate. You had both been so excited to look her up after the switch, only to discover that she had died in a sudden car crash within an hour.

After that, they became much more clingy with your time. When they were around, at least. They had also begun taking on many more "jobs" that took them far away.

You sympathised with their situation, but you could tell they harboured jealousy for your soulmate.

You sat down on the couch, breakfast in hand, as Jo came to sit at your side. You flicked through channels on TV, trying to alleviate the awkward tension that fell over the room.

"Listen, I'm not jealous."

"It's okay to admit it; I can understand your perspective! But you can't keep me from my soulmate!"

"No, it's not that! It's more that I'm... paranoid."

"Paranoid, about... what, exactly?"

"About your soulmate! I can't explain it, but I've got this bad feeling!"

"A bad feeling? What kind of bad feeling?"

You learned a long time ago that Jo's intuition was often correct, but were they really concerned or just trying to pull you and your soulmate apart?

"I just said, I can't explain it! I just don't want anything bad to happen to you!"

You sighed as you felt that both of you were becoming too worked up.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. I think... we're all quite stressed right now. Let's have a proper talk when we're not all so high-strung."

"Yeah, yeah."

Today was gonna be fun.

--//--

Chrollo smiled at the carnage surrounding him, watching as his friends unleashed their power on these pathetic guards. They heard the approaching rumble of reinforcements, which, by their calculations, should contain the man they were after.

His incredible enhancer ability would be handy for Chrollo, so they had spent days sieging the fortress he defended. As Nobunaga took to whittling down the primary reinforcements, Chrollo found himself distracted once again. That strange feeling in the back of his head, the itch he couldn't scratch, saying that something was wrong.

He shook his head to free himself of these thoughts, as the intimidating man faced him, seemingly unaware of exactly who he was fighting.

--//--

Despite your small fight with Jo, the day had gone well. You had prepared several cakes, which you poured plenty of love into. You also wrote your letter into one coherent piece and placed it in an envelope, which you taped to inside of your bedroom door.

A group of your friends arrived, all bearing various snacks and drinks to add to the table. As the conversation began to flow, you anxiously reminded them of the careful limits you had gone over for what they were allowed to say to your soulmate. They all laughed and smiled, promising to go along.

Almost on autopilot, you turned to Jo for reassurance, and they were in a good enough mood to laugh softly and promise to keep the others in line.

You knew Jo wouldn't go back on their word, no matter their personal feelings about the situation.

With everything laid out enticingly on a coffee table, you retired to your bedroom for the night, your gut swirling with anxiety and excitement.

You laid back on your bed, crossing your hands across your stomach. You had until exactly 21:29 to wait for the switch.

Looking over at the clock you had bought for this express purpose, you saw 21:27.

It'll probably feel like forever, you thought, plenty of time to get comfortable.

21:28

That's fine; you took a few deep breaths, settling down into your pillows. You closed your eyes softly.

Breathing deeply. With your eyes closed.

In, and out, in, and out.

Curiosity got the better of you.

Your eyes snapped open, turning back to the clock, getting to see just the slightest glimpse of 21:29 before everything changed.

--//--

Chrollo sighed from the driver's seat, just a straight highway unfolding seemingly infinitely in front and behind him. Confident in his ability to avoid traffic by instinct, he allowed his eyes to drift to the clock on the screen, 00:28 blinking back at him.

That time bothered him.

It wasn't unusual for him to stay up past midnight, more common than not, in fact, but that itch he couldn't scratch, that sweet song that slipped his mind's grasp, was back in full force, making him grit his teeth in irritation.

He returned his eyes to the road before him, though he only caught a glimpse of the asphalt-laden horizon before everything changed.

--//--

In a moment, you felt everything shift. You could feel it down to the change in the structure of your skeleton. Every muscle was different, every sensation infinitely sharpened by the new body you inhabited.

You felt that you were sitting, not lying down. You saw that you were looking out at a road.

And then, finally, you realised you were driving the car.

It was common knowledge that the swap allowed people to speak in the native tongue of their soulmate, but you wondered if you would be the first to discover that the same thing applied to driving skills.

You focused on the road and on keeping your breathing steady, aware that a panic attack here would result in much more than a headache and a sore throat in the long run.

Once finally began to calm down, you briefly peeled your eyes off the road to look your soulmate in the eyes in the rearview mirror. His grey eyes were striking, and his raven black hair was slicked back to his head, revealing a strange tattoo in the centre of his forehead. He was quite attractive, all things considered.

You felt a brush of air across your chest and again glanced down to notice you were completely shirtless, other than a feathery collared jacket that did nothing to hide your soulmate's toned body. Definitely a bold outfit choice, but you couldn't deny that it suited him well.

After a few more moments assuring yourself of the safety of the road, you tried to look at the other passengers of the car. You had seen them when you looked at yourself in the mirror, but you couldn't bear to think about them at that moment.

In the passenger seat was a pink-haired woman, her face stoic as she stared ahead. Behind you was a grumpy-looking man with black hair leaning into the window. In the centre of the backseat was a blond man with a cute face, tapping away at a modified phone of some kind. Furthest from you, behind the passenger seat, was a gruff-looking man with slicked-back blond hair.

None of them seemed to have noticed a change in their driver's behaviour, so you had a few more moments to collect yourself before you spoke up. Although you were still grappling with the fact that your soulmate had entirely forgotten about your switch, you didn't want to waste your time.

"I don't know... quite what's happening here, but I'm this person's soulmate."

You could taste something sweet with just the slightest hint of bitterness on your own breath.

The car had been silent before you spoke, but the silence grew heavier. Now every eye was on you, and you almost wished you hadn't said anything, that you had let the switch play out in complete silence before returning to your own body.

"What?" The taller blond man finally replied.

"I'm... their soulmate? Did they not tell anyone?"

"Boss had a soulmate?" He turned to the other blond man, ignoring you completely.

"Not as far as I know!"

"Look at me."

That last bit was said by the pink-haired woman next to you. With no small amount of fear in your heart, you ripped your eyes away from the road to look her in the eyes. Her cold, calculating eyes pierced you through and through. After what felt like aeons that she spent observing you, she let out the slightest gasp.

"You're not lying."

As soon as you had the reassurance that they believed you, you looked back at the road, relieved to see no danger.

"Are you serious? Are you messing with us, boss?" The black-haired man spoke, his tone rising to aggression.

"Calm down, all of you! This is the boss's soulmate, obviously!"

"But why wouldn't he tell us at all? This is crazy!"

"I don't know! Maybe he wanted to test us?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but what's going on here?"

The pink-haired woman turned back to from where she had been scolding the other passengers, sighing before she spoke.

"Look, sorry about all this ruckus. It's just that we're pretty close to our boss, and he never even told us he had a soulmate!"

"Seriously? Weird..." You trailed off, unsure of how to fill in the dead air.

"My name's Machi; what's yours?"

"I'm YN. Who is this?" You asked, gesturing slightly at your own body.

"Oh right, our boss's name is Chrollo. In the backseat, there is Nobunaga, Shalnark, and Phinks." She pointed each one out to you.

Behind you, Shalnark and Nobunaga were whispering to each other as they looked intently at Shalnark's phone.

"And where are you from, YN?" Shalnark spoke up again, a bright smile on his face as he watched you through the rearview.

"I'm from CN; where are we right now?"

The conversation continued like that for some time, with simple back-and-forth questions. Jo had advised you not to share too much sensitive information, and you couldn't help but get the inkling of a feeling that they were right.

The way that Shalnark would ask you questions before he immediately turned back to his phone alighted some anxiety in your gut, so you tried to turn the conversation back on them.

"So, you say that my soulmate here is your boss? What do you do?"

You didn't miss the beat of silence, but you tried to give them the benefit of the doubt that they had been put on the spot.

"We're traders, mostly," Shalnark started, "We travel around, buying and selling antiques and treasures and stuff!"

"Wow, that sounds like fun!"

"It can get tiring sometimes, but it's really fulfilling!"

There was a breath of relief from the car before Nobunaga spoke up, excitedly telling you a story of a time they had visited your home country for their business. Finally, it felt as if the atmosphere was relaxing, with everyone joining in to add details to the story.

You smiled softly, relieved that you no longer felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. It was pitch-black outside the car, and there were very few other cars on the road, so you felt safe enough to relax your grip on the steering wheel just a touch as well.

As you leaned back in the driver's seat, listening to Phinks avidly tell you about the food they had enjoyed in the capital of your home country, you felt the night's excitement finally hit you.

And how unlucky that you had just relaxed when you suddenly found yourself back in your own living room.

--//--

Chrollo snapped awake in his place, feeling that he had gone from his spot sitting to lying down in the blink of an eye. Immediately, he threw himself into a standing position, assuming the car had been surprise attacked.

At the same moment, he reached for his knife while attempting to summon Bandit's Secret. His anxiety only heightened when he realised that he had neither.

Finally trying to observe the situation and pinpoint his potential attacker, he slowly began to piece together what was going on.

He was in a neat bedroom and had been lying in bed. On the bedside clock, he read 21:29 in red blinking letters.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

His soulmate.

Ten years ago, he had made sure that his soulmate date was entirely obscured by his spider tattoo, going as far as to go to a different tattoo artist than the rest and killing them afterwards. He had to protect his soulmate, lest they be used against him. But in his attempt to defend them, he had completely forgotten to prepare anything.

Shit.

He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings now that he wasn't in danger. A mirror poised on one wall allowed him to observe his soulmate. He ran a hand over his cheek as he watched the skin move in abject fascination. All these sensations were raised in intensity; even in this body without Nen, he felt everything to a pinpoint. He suddenly became aware that he could taste a tiny bit of mint; they had even taken the time to brush their teeth to ensure his comfort.

There was an envelope taped to the inside of the door, obviously meant for him. Picking it off the door with an uncharacteristic level of gentleness, he sat back down on the bed to read.

The letter nearly sprung tears to his eye; how blessed was he to have someone so passionate! He could feel the depth of emotion poured into the letter, the way you spilt your heart out on the page.

He sat on the bed, eyes scanning over every line, reading and rereading the poetry before him.

"Do you think they're okay? I heard some movement inside, but it's been silent since. Do you think they fell and hurt their head?"

"Ugh, I'll knock and go check."

It hadn't occurred to him that there would be other people here - just another example of the care and thought you had put in.

He opened the door to a freckled face, who wore an expression of surprise as their hand was still in the air, having been about to knock. Immediately, he turned on the charm, knowing he could at least cover up for his lack of planning on this end.

"Oh, sorry about that; I didn't realise I was expected!" He added his best chuckle, followed by, "My soulmate is quite the poet; I've been entranced!"

He waved the letter to show it off before stepping past the newcomer. But he stopped briefly while he was right next to them. He could feel it.

The cold, calculating look in their eye, the robust build, the scars along their hands. They were from Meteor City.

With a polite nod, he continued into the living room, though he could feel that person's eyes on him the whole way. He was greeted with three cakes and a wide selection of snacks and drinks. He cursed that you wouldn't be getting such a cosy reception on your end.

The conversation flowed easily as soon as he introduced himself; everyone was excited to tell him things or ask him questions. He easily lied his way through questions about his profession; it was like second nature to the charismatic thief. Everyone in attendance was charmed by him except that damn person from Meteor City. Just as he began considering if he might have to kill them, they leaned forwards, interrupting another one of your friends.

"You smoke?"

Chrollo had smoked once or twice in his youth but had never had a taste for it. He shook his head no, hoping they would drop it there.

"Too bad, 'cause I do, and I want a private chat with you. Step outside."

With their authoritative voice, he knew he was not avoiding the following conversation.

The biting chill on his cheeks felt much sharper than usual, his own body having learned to withstand much harsher conditions. However, he was scarcely given a moment to enjoy the sensation before Jo interrupted.

"You're from Meteor City."

"I'm aware."

"Hmph. Are you a thief?"

"Of course, aren't you?"

"My work isn't the prettiest, but I'm not that low. I owe that to YN."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They lifted me up and out of that place of their own goodwill. When I escaped that place, we met by chance, and they offered their hand to give me a new life. They're the reason I stay on the straight and narrow. I'll do anything to protect them; you should know that."

"I will, too; surely you should know that. I'm their soulmate."

"And you're also a thief. Probably a prolific one, from how easily you lied about your career. I want to protect them for their sake; you just want to protect them for your own sake. You won't be taking them anywhere; I'll steal them away where you'll never find them again if you try."

"That's quite the threat; are you sure you can follow through?"

"I'll have to, for them."

Chrollo chuckled at this silly notion. As if they could really do anything to take his soulmate away now that he knew they were here.

He watched Jo's silhouette retreat back into the warm light of your home, a smirk spread across his face at their sheer bravery, before everything changed.

--//--

Snapping back to your own body, now standing, was jarring, to say the least. Jo looked over their shoulder at your gasp as you nearly lost your balance, rushing over to catch you before you hurt yourself.

"Oh, hey there!" You laughed, looking up at them.

"Hey." They sounded standoffish, but their smile was undeniable.

"What are we doing outside?"

"Oh, I just wanted a smoke, and he followed me to chat."

You couldn't smell any smoke in the air, and you felt like something was being hidden from you, but you were just so tired and happy to be back that you chose to push that down for now.

"I'm gonna go to bed. Can you tell the others to go home? I need to just lie down ASAP."

"You got it. I'm gonna have to head out again soon as well, so I'll see you again whenever I get back."

--//--

"So." Machi started, addressing the newly-returned Chrollo, "What was that all about?"

Everyone was hushed, awaiting the boss's answer.

"You already know that was my soulmate. I had... forgotten to tell anyone."

More silence flooded the car as the other members of the spider internally debated whether or not they wanted to risk their necks by making a joke.

"Well, you'll be glad to know we're on the right path to get to them!" Shalnark cut in with his usual cheer, hoping to distract from the current situation.

"Really?"

"It'll be a few days even if we pick up the pace, but Feitan is currently in that country and can start keeping an eye on them ASAP. I'm concerned about their safety, especially considering their medical records."

"There's no need for too much worry," Chrollo said calmly

"What do you mean?!" Nobunaga was incredulous; how could the boss take his soulmate's safety so easily?

"Someone is protecting them already, someone we'll have to take care of, but a valuable protector, for now, all the same."

--//--

Thanks for reading!

#autism #platonic yandere #hxh x reader #hxh #yandere #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere phantom troupe #platonic x reader #platonic soulmates #platonic #soulmate au #yandere soulmate #autistic reader

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semperama · 1 year

Note

if you wanna write sorta angst— maybe forced outing maxiel or ex husbands with benefits maxiel

Ex husbands with benefits is SO my thing. I LOVE a good exes fic! I might write a longer one someday, but here's a little taste.

In the few minutes afterward, when they're laying side by side, Daniel's leg draped over his, Daniel's come dripping out of him--it's hard to remember why this ended.

Max doesn't mind LA. It's not his favorite place in the world, but he could live here, for Daniel. He would have preferred Australia. Before the end, he dropped hints all the time that he'd be happy in Perth, on the farm, if that's what Daniel wanted, but Daniel always brushed him off for reasons Max still doesn't understand.

And he doesn't mind Daniel's life now, his friends. He's never been a fan of celebrity culture, but he won't say no to the exclusive parties and exclusive clubs. He doesn't even mind weighing in on Daniel's near-constant new merch designs, though he doesn't care about fashion even a fraction as much as Daniel does. He doesn't care about it at all, in fact, but he can suck it up. He knows how to do that much.

"How long are you in town?" Daniel asks, still a little out of breath. They didn't do the small talk beforehand. Daniel pounced as soon as he opened the door, tossing Max's bag against the wall in the foyer with a thud before dragging him to the bedroom.

"Couple weeks, maybe," Max says. "The next race is in a month, but I wanted to spend some time with my mom too."

He can feel Daniel tense up, and--yeah, Max remembers now. All their fights. I thought you were retiring at the end of this year, Daniel would say. What would I do then? Max would answer. Max is 35 now, older than Daniel was when he stopped racing, older than a lot of people, but...he still doesn't know the answer to that question. Doesn't know what he would do if he stopped.

Kids? Daniel had suggested once, but Max recoiled from the idea like it had burned him. He loves kids. He's even good with kids. But there's a difference between playing with his sister's kids and raising ones of his own.

"You're staying here?" Daniel asks, and his voice is flat, like he doesn't care one way or another. Or maybe like he'd prefer if Max didn't.

"I can get a hotel if you want."

"No, no." Daniel sighs, rolls toward Max and drifts his fingers idly over one of Max's nipples, making it pebble up and making Max shiver. "That doesn't make sense. You know you're always welcome here."

Max shuts his eyes, swallows hard. "Always?" he asks. He doesn't want to see the expression on Daniel's face. Daniel might lie to him.

Daniel doesn't answer at all, though. Instead, he rolls on top of Max and wraps his fingers around Max's wrists, pins them above his head. Max opens his eyes and looks up at Daniel, and he has to bite down on the urge to tell him he loves him. Because he does. Always has. Since the moment he met him.

It'll hurt Daniel to hear it, though, so he holds the words back. He never wants to hurt Daniel, but he always seems to be doing it anyway.

"I want you here," Daniel says, and then leans down to take Max's bottom lip between his teeth, like he doesn't want Max to say anything back. It helps, to have Daniel's mouth on his. He bucks up against him, kisses him back, and hopes Daniel can't feel what he's feeling, hopes they can both be happy with just this.

#maxiel #f1 #my writing #thank you guys for these awesome prompts #these are the only words i've been able to write in weeks

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fbfh · 8 months

Text

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 3

wc: 3.1k

pairing: slow burn childhood best friends to lovers ben x reader, audrey x reader

warnings: ben is stressed, audrey is a bad gf, mild claustrophobia/dark spaces/being under ground warning (description of falling down the rabbithole into twonderland but it's fun and you love it so it's not scary lol), mild exposition dumping

summary: ben prepares for the arrival of the Isle kids, and gives audrey the benefit of the doubt a little too much. you have time to sneak away to your favorite place in the world, and the only thing that's missing is ben.

song recs: in a world of my own - kathryn beaumont, welcome to wonderland - scarlett rose, wish you still felt this way - sophie meiers x 90sflav

a/n: i love this fic. i love this series. this started as a comfort daydream and now it's a thing and I hope yall are ready for the next chapter cause it's gonna be good. I hope this brings yall the comfort it brings me <33

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

After about a week of constant meetings, arrangements, and press conferences, a week of even less sleep and even more coffee than usual - something Ben didn’t know was possible to achieve - it’s finally the day he’s been working tirelessly toward. It’s the day the kids from the Isle are finally on their way to Auradon. He rushes back to Auradon Prep with you at his side after a very stressful, successful press conference. Even though he seems totally composed on the surface, you can tell he’s a bundle of nerves. You walk quickly beside him as he goes over the agenda for their arrival.

“Their rooms are all set up, Fairy Godmother said Jane can help them get settled into their classes - god, what am I forgetting?” Ben rambles, fumbling through all the papers in his bag. His eyes land on his copy of his press conference note cards, and that jogs his memory.

“Right,” He continues as you look up at him, and he knows he has all your attention. “I don’t think I’m going to have time to write a new speech for their arrival…”

He pauses for a moment, seeing if there’s some little pocket of time he can find to make this date extra special for them.

“Ben, you’re more jam packed than a tea cake. You can’t overwork yourself and run into the ground, not when you’re this close.”

Ben considers for a moment, realizing you're right.

"You have a point…" he agrees with a reluctant chuckle. "I'll use the same speech I used for the press conference." He decides. You’re silent for a moment.

“...Alright.”

“What?” Ben asks, able to read your expression like a book.

“Nothing, just-” You hesitate, then give him an earnest look, like you don’t want to hurt his feelings. He chuckles and braces himself, knowing whatever you’re about to say will be a necessary - albeit, hard - truth.

“You don’t think it’s a bit much?” You ask gently. “Too formal, given the circumstances?”

He considers for a moment. He thought it did great at the press conference, but maybe there are a few parts he can revise for the arrival of the Isle kids.

“Uh… yeah. I- I can cast eyes over it, we still have a little over an hour. That should be enough to make any tweaks.” He finishes.

You nod as you follow him into the conference room that he’s turned into a makeshift headquarters for all of his first proclamation business. He sets down his bag and pulls out all his paperwork and his planner. He hears you set your stuff down a few seats away from him and looks up. You’ve been working so hard and helping him out so much with all of this. He couldn’t possibly have accomplished a fraction as much without you. He walks over to you, gathering up your stuff.

“Look bunny, why don’t you, uh,” he starts, leaning over slightly to make sure no one’s about to walk through the doorway. “Why don’t you head down for a while. You have enough time if you go now.”

Your eyes light up at his words. You’ve been keeping your Wonderland visits to a minimum to help Ben and support him as much as you can, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“Really?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, I’ll cover for you.” Ben lets out a soft grunt as you tackle him with a hug. He chuckles lightly, giving your back and shoulders a gentle pat before you pull away a moment later.

“I’ll run my speech by you when you get back-” He begins, then cuts himself off, remembering something. “We got your watch fixed, right?”

You’re glad he remembered, and you fish around in your tea pot bag for a moment before pulling out the weathered bronzy pocket watch. Time works differently in Wonderland, and it’s hard to keep track of. You've tried everything you can think of, and your pocket watch is the only thing that seems to keep you from constantly being late. Granted, you're still late or nearly late a lot, but it’s much better than it used to be.

“Yes,” you nod, showing him the little ticking hands, currently resting at the words ‘on time’. A fresh bubble of excitement pops inside you and you let out an excited giggle, hugging Ben tightly one more time.

“Thank you!” you exclaim in a soft whisper before he sends you off. You run over to the corner of the room to summon a rabbit hole. Ben watches in fascination as the tile floor begins to crumble in front of you, giving way to grassy dirt before continuing to crumble, going down, down, down. It’s a large, vaguely irregular circle about half as wide as your wingspan. You look back at Ben with another silent thank you, before jumping straight down into the hole. As soon as the last of you is out of sight, the tiles rebuild themselves without leaving a trace of you. Ben stares at the spot where you disappeared, feeling vaguely melancholic, but mostly happy that you’re getting to spend time doing what you love. That you’re happy.

“There you are, Bennyboo,” Ben whips his head around at the sound of Audrey’s voice, and he’s relieved she hadn’t shown up sooner. It’s not that sneaking off to Wonderland is a bad thing, but most people tend to discourage you from visiting too often. Wonderland is a timeless domain, like Neverland, and it and all of its inhabitants are much different from those from Auradon - usually referred to as Overland or the Main Land by people from Wonderland and Neverland.

Wonderland runs on pure, neutral chaos and nonsense, which is a very hard concept for people from Overland to grasp. Overland runs on a fundamental structure of good vs. evil, so it’s easy for people to perceive things from Wonderland as good or bad when they’re really just made up of madness. The reason people try to keep Wonderland contained is because you can’t fight nonsense with sense, you can’t fight chaos with logic. If something powerful from Wonderland got into Overland, like the Jabberwocky, or any number of powerful plants, animals, or magic, Auradon would be practically defenseless. That’s one of the reasons that Belle and Adam decided to reach out to your mother, and continue to form such a strong bond with her. If Wonderland nonsense managed to get out into Auradon, it would be uncontrollable chaos, and the only person who could stop it would be your mother - and now, you.

It took Ben a while to understand Wonderland, to understand you. You and your mother are very special cases; Alice was from Overland, but adapted to be part of Wonderland, and Wonderland became a part of her. You, however, were born in Wonderland and raised in Overland. You’ve adapted as well as you can, but you always do much, much better when you can sneak away for regular little trips. Ben has asked to join you before, but it’s too dangerous. People from Overland rarely adapt to Wonderland nonsense and usually end up going mad, which is why your mother is such an asset to the Auradon government - she’s actually able to serve as a liaison between Wonderland and Auradon, and keep an eye on things.

Unfortunately, there are still a lot of stigmas surrounding Wonderlandians, stigmas Ben has grown to resent more and more over the years, but most of it boils down to Wonderlandians being weird, crazy, dumb, and volatile. The more Ben has come to understand you, the more he hates the small comments and little stares directed toward you. Luckily Ben has been able to protect you from a lot of it. People very quickly found out that if they said anything bad about you or Wonderland, it wouldn’t end well for them. He can’t get rid of the stigmas, but he can protect you from them as much as possible.

Audrey flounces over, sitting next to him.

"You are never going to believe what Arabella just told me at cheer practice."

“Uh-”

“She said-”

“Um, Audrey.” Ben finally manages to interrupt. She looks confused about why she’s not the one talking right now.

“I want to hear all about this, I really do,” Ben says, “but we’re going to be greeting the kids transferring from the Isle soon-” Audrey huffs, already disinterested.

“And I wanted your feedback on my speech.” He finishes, handing her the papers.

“Oh, sure. There’s that…” Audrey says, pretending to read it over for a moment. Before she finishes, she sets the papers down on the table, and gives Ben a chipper look.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Bennyboo. You never disappoint.”

She sits on the table in front of him, continuing to tell him all about what Arabella said Herkie did. Ben tries his best to listen, he really does. He just can’t keep his mind off his speech, and he can feel himself beginning to spiral and overthink. He has so much riding on this, he can’t afford for his speech to be fine, he can’t afford for anything about this whole ordeal to be fine. Her words keep echoing in his mind, you never disappoint, Bennyboo. He knows she meant it to be supportive, but he feels like all the pressure he’s been convincing himself he can handle is just reinforced. He was hoping to get some real feedback from Audrey, maybe a little encouragement, but-

He stops himself before the thought can go any further. Audrey is his girlfriend, and Ben should be able to trust her word. You would never lie to him about something this important, so he chooses to trust that Audrey wouldn’t either. He tries to shut up the worries clouding his mind and tries to pay attention to what Audrey is saying. She’s probably just trying to distract him from worrying, give him something else to think about for a while. You can always tell when he’s overthinking, so Audrey is probably trying to show him that she cares, that there’s nothing to worry about. That if she’s talking about something like cheer team gossip at a time like this, when Ben is getting ready for one of the most important days of his life, then everything must be under control. Besides, if he needs to he can look his speech over by himself after Audrey leaves. He might have time to. It will all be fine.

The moment you let yourself fall into the dark rabbit hole, your stomach flips as you begin free falling through the darkness. A little dirt sprinkles down on your head from where it closes up above you, and you narrowly manage to avoid some roots snagging in your hair. After a few moments, your descent slows. You spin slowly as you glide down, and in the pitch black darkness, you can feel your internal gyroscope going crazy. You breathe in the heavy, earthy air, and for a few moments, you don't know which way is up or down. You have absolutely no sense of direction for those few beautiful moments, and you don't want to. Soon, your descent speeds up again, and you find yourself tumbling through tree branches, eventually landing on a rough surface in the dark.

“It should be here somewhere…” you mutter, feeling around for a doorknob. After a moment you feel it, cool aged metal in your hand. You twist it, revealing a beam of light through a doorway. It’s going to be a close call, but you think you’ll just be able to fit. You manage to squeeze through the entrance, exiting out of the door - which is situated in a large tree trunk, and into Wonderland. You crawl forward, taking it all in. You take in a deep breath of the still, earthy, floral air. It’s heavy in your lungs, like a deep dream. You fully exit, and the door slowly closes behind you.

The world is quiet.

There’s an almost suffocating stillness in the atmosphere of Wonderland, one that would be uncanny and unnerving to you if it weren’t already so deeply comforting. It’s the same grounding sense of peace and stillness you get when you’re young and walk carefully through your dark house at night in search of a cold glass of water. There’s that feeling in Wonderland, everyone is asleep except for me. I ought to be asleep too, I best not wake them. The world around you is still, still, still. It’s as still as a stone, or a lake made of glass. You soak up the familiar surroundings, and you feel like you’re finally visiting an old friend.

In spite of the pitch black sky, which is barely visible through the treetops, you can see what’s around you just fine. But if you look too far, there’s a darkness off the beaten path, one that stays just at the edges of your sight no matter where you go. It always looks to you like those hazy dark shadows around the edges of old photographs. You look down at the beaten path - this one being made of black and white irregularly shaped checkerboard tiles nestled right into the dirt. They twist and turn, splitting out and reconverging haphazardly into the darkness. They’re a bit worn and dirty, but you suppose any outdoor tiles would get that way eventually.

You follow it back the way you came, spinning around as you do, and notice the way it splinters into little shards, cracking and fragmenting into a mosaic of sorts before petering out at the base of the tree, with grass and dirt poking up in between. You feel yourself begin to settle, at home with the lack of time flowing around you, and you take in another breath. Your nose and lungs are kissed gently with the smell of damp, freshly turned earth, plant life, and that unmoving sort of smell that shows up after it rains, but still before any birds and animals come out from their hiding. The type of smell when flowers are wet, and have not yet opened themselves back up.

Reaching into your trusty teapot bag, you fish around in there until you find your camera. It’s old, very old, and completely obsolete ever since the boom of technology that appeared around the time you and Ben were born, but you love it nonetheless. A year or two before you and Ben - and most of the other kids your age - were born, Auradon successfully made an alliance with Atlantis. They traded their protection of Atlantis and a promise to leave them alone, in exchange for a little bit of their technology and power sources. Adam also promised to make sure Rourke never saw the light of day again, a promise Queen Kida was happy to accept. The trade led to light speed innovations based in Atlantean tech; smart phones, computers, video games, and countless other innovations that brought Auradon into its new age. Flash forward to now, Atlantis is the tech capital of the world, and magic is obsolete. Your camera can’t give directions or tell time or backup to cloud storage, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You snap some pictures of the tiles before you begin exploring. You never know what entrance to Wonderland you’ll fall through, and you love documenting each one. You walk carefully through the forest of dense trees, looking at flocks of haughty looking dodo birds and peonies that gossip to each other, whispering with a laugh as you pass them by. Soon you stumble into something very interesting. You thought it was a cluster of blue bushes, but were surprised to find out they’re really birds. The bird bushes (or maybe bush birds) startle at your presence, squawking and leaving feathers (leaves?) in their wake before they fly off.

You manage to get a few pictures of them too, and you’re excited to show Ben. You’ve tried taking pictures with your phone before, but Wonderland makes technology… unreliable at best. Plus, there’s no service down here anyway. That’s why you took to journaling, drawing pictures and taking photos and writing down everything you see. This way you can share it with Ben, this way it’s almost like he’s here in your favorite place with you.

You follow the blue speckled bush birds - as you’d dubbed them - until you lose track of them. It’s no matter though, since you soon hear some lovely singing coming from under a sparkling berry bush growing fruit shaped like bells. You crouch down, lifting up the leaves, and find a choir of inchworms practicing their harmonies. The leader looks up at you in a huff.

“I’m terribly sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.” You say. He huffs, and turns back to his choir, conducting with a little twig. You decide to sit and listen for a while as they rehearse under the coverage of glistening pink leaves. You find some oversized, brightly colored mushrooms growing nearby, and sit down on a comfortable one. You pull a teacup out of your bag, trying to decide which tea to drink while you watch the inchworms and listen to their masterpiece slowly come together.

You zip the lid closed, and pour the spout to the cup, settling on some raspberry tea. With honey, you think, and lemon. You smile as a lemon wedge falls from the spout, plopping gently into your cup. You take a sip, and it’s perfectly brewed as ever. You go through several cups of tea, growing more and more invested in the drama between the inchworms. One is insisting on taking the high harmony, even though it’s obviously out of his range. You’re half way through… one of your cups of tea, you lost count rather quickly. By now the inchworms have perfected their harmonies for the chorus, and the first verse. Your attention is ripped away from the inchworms when your bag starts ringing. You open it up, digging out your pocket watch. The bronze hands have spun all the way past most of the little notches, and you nearly drop your tea when you see where they are. Your eyes follow the hands, which are nearly pointing to the word Late! in fancy script.

“Shit!”

#curiosity is a wonderful thing #ben florian #ben florian x reader #daughter of alice!reader #descendants #descendants x reader #OOF #ya bitch is going through it #but it okay #it ony a movie #pls tell me smwn gets that reference #i say it ony a movie about 30 times a day #oh and i got the 'i thlammed my penith in the car door' song stuck in my head again #i sang it for i think 15 is minutes straight at the end of my shift at work today #silently ofc

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holewithinahole · 2 years

Text

It’s always the quiet ones | Egon Spengler x nb!reader

Summary: “You’re not sleeping with it, are you?” said Peter, before looking back at Egon. The awkwardness of the scientist is heavy with the implication. But the implication is far naughtier than they could imagine.

Ao3 Link

Warning: Shameless smut (that’s all there is), vaginal sex (non-binary reader), oral sex, semi public sex, sex near hazardous substances, non native writer

Hello! I’m back from the deepest part of student hell to drop something I’ve been working on for a little while. I just needed to be dumped by my ex partner to have the final push to finish it lmao It’s completely self indulgent, with my childhood comfort character but I saw that there’s demand on tumblr? You naughty people.

It’s not Arcane related, I’m still on hiatus because I don’t feel like I’m mentally able to write so much requests. I hope you’ll still pardon me! See ya in super hell.

Egon Spengler is strangely demanding today, you muse to yourself as he crowds you against the working bench and proceeds to ravish your mouth thoroughly and diligently, all talented tongue and sporadic nibbles. Broad palms push your hips, long fingers dip into your skin and you sigh against his open mouth. There’s something exciting in the way he suddenly decided he was going to have his way with you on the same table he experiments on, upstairs of Ghostbusters headquarters, at four in the afternoon. Even knowing the boys out and Janine on her well-deserved winter break, never in a million years you’d have thought Egon capable of such a naughty act.

This is oddly out of character.

Your eyes flutter open, your tongue cautiously lapping at his lower lip. His eyes are fixing something behind you, not even aware that you’re looking at him. You chuckle internally, your hands sliding inside his lab coat, feeling his ribs through his woolen sweater vest. Egon, still focusing on his unknown task, gasps softly when you grab his lapels and force his attention on you.

Throwing an eye behind your shoulder, you arch an eyebrow, smirking: “I knew you had something else in mind.”

Next to you, innocently sits a beaker, half-filled with a pink substance.

You hop on the bench. “What is this then? Slime?”

Egon nods, jaw tensed. You cock your head to the right, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, noting with delighted amusement his following gaze.

“Am I part of your newest experiment, Dr. Spengler?”

You can’t help the breathlessness that accompanies your statement. Your fingers graze against the newly exposed skin of your stomach and those brown eyes follow.

“Slime is a psychomagnotheric substance,” comes the technical explanation, a slight rasp at the back of his throat. “We’ve already performed several tests with Ray to assess its reaction to positive stimuli and—“

“You want to observe the positive influence of sex on it.”

His gaze finally jumps back to your face and you’re having a hard time hiding the fondness at the corner of your mouth.

“I do apologize if I overstepped,” he says, pulling away just a fraction.

Straightening up, you wrap both your arms behind his neck.

“Don’t we both have to be, uh, positively emotionally engaged in the activity for it to work?” You ask, sliding your fingers in his hair, fondling gently at his neck.

You physically feel the tension slowly leaving his body. Egon is all subtlety, discreet displays of emotions that you learned to observe and understand.

“Stimulating you enough should not be an issue.” The smirk that adorns his face is painfully attractive, it sends a thrill that travels to your loins.

He lowers his face, lips grazing on the sensitive skin of your neck, the hot tide of his breath on your skin makes you dizzy. “For my part, I have to be extremely focused on the experiment.”

You feel yourself being leaned backward on the working bench as his mouth continues its slow descent along the column of your neck. When he kisses your neck, something exciting runs underneath your skin: something akin to tickles and goosebumps all in one. Something that makes you want to either curl yourself up or expose your throat for more.

On your left, your eye catches something. Shoving Egon back gently, he straightens up, intrigued.

“Better keep track of everything then,” you smile, pointing at the tape recorder he uses to record himself tinkering with the experiments at hand.

You see the slight confusion in his eyes before the thought finally settles.

“It’d be for the best, yes.” It’s now painfully obvious that he’s hard in his neatly pressed pants.

He strolls to the device and turns it on as you shed your shirt, baring your chest completely. His eyes are boring holes into you behind his glasses that he pushes up his nose before starting the recording.

“Experiment number thirteen on generating a positive reaction from the slime.” Egon motions you closer with a curved finger and you happily sauntered toward him. “Today, I have an assistant.”

Oh, that mischievous twinkle bears heavy consequences. “I’ll have to ask you to comment on our future tests.”

“You’re the scientist here, Doctor,” you try to deflect.

“As this experiment relies heavily on your impressions, I’ll have to ask you to be vocal.”

Bastard.

Hands are soon back sliding up and down your still-clothed thighs. “Shall we begin?”

Any retort genuinely dies in your throat as he presses against you, his pelvis delightfully grinding against your lower stomach. That stunt with the tape recording was fruitful both for immediate results and for the long-term satisfaction of knowing Egon Spengler’s a kinky fucker.

Always the quiet ones, you muse.

For an instant, you could have been in your apartment, a blissful evening with Dr. Spengler on top of you. All roaming hands on your skin, slowly going down, down to business. Quick and efficient, that’s the way you both like it. But right at this moment, if you hadn’t memorized all their calluses and crevices, those hands could belong to someone else. Those hands that barely caress a nipple, enough to make your breath catch.

The deliberateness of how his knuckles rack over the sensitive area, pads of his fingers pinching, rolling, spreading this tightness in your guts. The more it goes on, the more you can feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“Stimulation of erogenous zones, specifically the areola area.” His voice is so even. “Your impressions?”

You frown. “It should be obvious.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t plug in the camera.”

The scoff shamefully turns into a soft moan thanks to a deliberate hard pinch on your right nipple.

“Specificities, please.”

“Damn it!” You sigh. “It feels good, all right?” You don’t like to talk during sex and he usually doesn’t either.

“Is slight pain enhancing the experience?” He asks, pinching both your nipples hard.

“Ah!” You don’t expect the surge shooting through you, your chest skin tugging almost uncomfortably as more wetness spreads in your underwear.

“Yes?” Egon asks.

“Yes!” You hiss through clenched teeth.

“Conclusive experiment then.” He dips down, sticking his tongue out to lap at the reddened skin, deliberately avoiding your nipple. “Although your slight irritation might be a predicament to our progress.”

No shit. “I wonder why.”

His mouth encloses the tip of your tit, suckling softly, swirling his tongue as a reminiscence of your kiss. You don’t even bother to suppress the gasp that leaves your mouth, getting lost in the moist entrapment, in the way his long nose nuzzles your supple skin, in the soft brush of his hair raising goosebumps in its path. Your fingers fully tangle in it, holding him close to you, pushing him into your chest so he can feel your heartbeat.

Perhaps a wonderful part of Egon’s brain will decide that your BPM is important data to collect.

You have a moment of awareness, registering that the only sounds that will be heard in the recording are your gasps and soft moans and the indecent slurps of Egon’s tongue. It makes your face flame up, your cheeks so hot you feel the perspiration on your skin.

What would be more embarrassing, you wonder, one of the boys finding the recording or getting caught right here right now?

“Focus.” The sound of Egon’s voice startles you. “It’s supposed to be positive reinforcement.”

“Uh,” you battle your eyelashes.

Egon straightens up, righting his glasses on his face. “Let’s move onward.”

“You—“ Agile fingers take hold of your pants’ button and pop it off, unzipping them before silently asking you with a tug to shimmy out of them. “He’s forcing me out of my clothes,” you say, directing your words at the tape.

“A necessary part of the experiment.”

Your pants are halfway across your thighs when he grabs hold of your waist and hoists you on the bench.

“Holy—“ You gasp, naturally wrapping your arms around his neck. Who would have thought you had a thing for displays of strength?

“Would you mind getting rid of your garments?” Egon smirks knowingly.

Grumbling, you untie your shoes and take the rest of your pants and your socks off, throwing them across the room. You now face Egon almost entirely naked while he still stands in his button-down and sweater vest, lab coat on top, with his pants slightly wrinkled – although unmistakably tented. Oh, and how could you forget the goddamn tie… You would have also gotten rid of your underwear if he hadn’t pressed his palm on your mount.

“Right down to business I see,” you pant.

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re burning up here.” The pressure of the heel of his palm squishing down your outer labia against your clit feels beautiful. “Your underwear is soaked.”

You’re torn between the rush of pleasure and the urge to slap him for how unaffected he sounds.

“This doesn’t soun—ah, very professional, Doctor.”

The alternating amounts of pressure have you moving your hips, searching for more, demanding a faster pace, a harder push. He remains desperately steady.

“Copious amount vaginal discharge,” Egon notes, and a huge rush of shame shoots through you. “More than average I’d say.”

“You’d say?” You choke out.

“You do appear to be wetter than usual although we’ve barely started our activities.” The bastard smirks.

Why is that, lingers in the air, a loud but unspoken question. And you’re now certain Egon takes his own immediate and long-term satisfaction knowing you’re a kinky fucker as well. You’re just a couple of degenerates and doesn’t that turn you on more than it should.

His palm presses more firmly against you and you can’t take it anymore, you need his finger on you, in you, anywhere but separated by this stupid piece of fabric.

“Stop— stop spreading it!” You cry out stupidly. “You’re ruining a very decent pair of underwear.”

Egon scoffs. “I am?”

The squish that follows is a betrayal from your body you’ll never forget. “Take it off,” you mewl.

So he steps back, stops touching you altogether, and raises an eyebrow at you. Groaning, you get rid of your soaked underwear, throwing it at a random place in the room, quickly forgetting about the uncomfortable wet sensation because Egon sheds off his lab coat in a swift movement. You are captivated by the stretch of his sweater vest against his chest, and even more entranced by the slow teasing appearance of his forearms as he rolls up his sleeves.

“Isn’t having a lab coat an essential security guideline?”

You keep spewing teasing sentences but you know that your sanity is hanging by a thread.

He hums: “When manipulating hazardous substances, yes.”

He finishes securing his sleeves in the curve of his elbows and steps in front of you once more. Your treacherous heart skips a beat; you don’t even understand why.

“Having your way with me right next to an unknown paranormal substance isn’t considered a hazard?”

“The slime is neutronized, there’s no risk of causticity for your skin,” Egon answers in all seriousness.

Right now, it’s his big callused hands that you want on your skin.

And he delivers by grabbing each thigh in each hand, spreading them almost uncomfortably. Fuck, you think because you can feel how wet you are as the cold sensation spreads from your core to the cleft of your ass cheeks. By the end of his experiment, you’ll have dribbled all over the table.

He leans to you and captures your lips in another searing kiss. The curve of his nose fits perfectly next to yours, as both your mouths mold into a new shape. All your senses are awake and aware: your taste buds sweet from the teeth-rooting chocolate bars he loves to eat, your skin shivering from pleasure, and the always-too-cold air of the lab. Your muscles are quivering from being all crooked, folded over a flat surface in that way.

Even at an even level, he towers over you with his height and the wide square-ness of his frame. You want to press against him, squish your very self on his body. Although he might not like his clothes to be ruined by your moistness, you entertain the idea in your head because nothing turns you on more than seeing Egon Spengler messy and disheveled.

“As I won’t be able to, I’m counting on you to voice out your comments,” he says against your lips.

You don’t have time to ask why, his face is already down between your legs. Your breath hitches, stops, leaves your body entirely.

Down to business, you reminisce.

He starts by peppering small kisses inside your inner thighs but it’s not worshipping, it’s edging. You sometimes feel his tongue lap out at your skin, you also shiver when he gently blows against your core, sending another wave of chills on your body.

“Egon…” you sigh.

As on cue, he decides to spread your labia open with his fingers, and dear God, you can feel his breath tickling your clit, an inch away from any real pleasure. An inch he soon reduces to nothing as he licks a long, fat stroke all the way up your sex.

It’s a real moan that escapes your mouth this time, already thirsty for the next move. He keeps lapping, up and down, flattening his tongue completely against your opening, drinking more of the wetness amassed in his median sulcus.

You’re slowly but surely being driven to the edge, just hovering over the precipice but there’s still so much that you need to finally accept to let yourself fall. So he takes your metaphorical hand and leads you closer by finally pressing his nose in your pubes, jaw slacking open as he delivers a strong suction right on your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your hand grabs his hair, instinctively guiding him closer.

It went through you like a zap, a single strike of lightning. Your clit is tingling, your cunt dripping and your whole body shivering. But it doesn’t stop there as the very tip of his tongue teases you, a quick succession of round-way trips, delivered with accurate frequency.

His brows are furrowed; you can feel the crease in his forehead as you gently pass your hand in the hair at the base of his cranium, flattening his curls. The action makes his eyes snap up at you. You feel stupid for staring at him without saying a word but you lost all vocabulary with the simple sight of such a special man pleasuring you so unapologetically.

He draws back a little, the corners of his mouth and his chin are glistening.

Filthy, so fucking filthy.

“Any comments?” His voice is deeper than usual, slightly scratching.

“I’m kinda at a loss of words right now,” you say genuinely.

Egon nods and, as if endowed with an important life-or-death mission, dives in once more, this time ignoring your throbbing clit to focus on your opening. The feeling of his tongue breaching in, squirming inside is everything and nothing at once. You do openly moan, trusting your hips to his face, again and again, chasing this half-sensation of fullness. The pleasure is not a spike of hormones like having your clit sucked and suckled. It’s a diffuse sensation of pleasure, the simple erotic feeling of his slippery tongue massaging your walls.

He trusts in and out, everything around you is just blurred lights behind your eyelids but you snap them open when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb without stopping his previous activities. You know this instant that you’re going to come on his face if he keeps delivering the most perfect movements to all the right places.

“Egon, please…” You squeeze at his curls. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

It’s with a raised eyebrow that he finally quits the warmth between your thighs. “Wouldn’t that be the desired ending point of our experiment?”

He grabs a paper napkin that was innocently left there by Ray when he brought food earlier and wipes his mouth off your juices before throwing it in the bin.

You watch his movements, catching your breath and your trail of thought. “I need more than that.”

“Please do specify what is that and how can I give you more of it.”

A gentleman and an asshole, all in one. You want so much to tell him to go to hell but you’re so far gone in preliminaries you don’t think yourself able to delay your primal need to be fucked.

“I’ll show you,” you say, motioning him closer.

He has this look where he’s slightly apprehensive of the logical pursuit of things but he steps in between your legs once more. Your left-hand slides behind his neck and beckons him closer, close enough for you to press your other hand to the front of his pants. His mouth opens slightly but he doesn’t move away so you keep palming him, feeling how he hardens against your fingers. Even through his loose-fitting pants, the hard line of his cock is flagrant.

Stopping your neck petting, you unbuckle his belt, lowering his zipper, and finally putting your digits on something more palpable.

“I thought we agreed that I had to focus exclusively on the experiment,” he sighs.

“Actually,” you slip your hand farther in between his pants and the tight fit of his cotton briefs. “I never agreed to anything.”

The hotness is making your hand moist but you reveal in the sound he makes when you push harder, full hand flat against the entirety of his dick, the tip of your fingers grazing the beginning of his balls.

“Remind me to have you sign a written contract next time.”

Despite his tone-down exterior, you notice his eyelids dropping, the small exhales leaving his parted lips because your eyes are fixed on his face, registering.

“Next time?”

There’s definitely a joke underlying your question but his dark gaze makes you question everything. Damn, he’s really into that, isn’t he?

Into you, displayed on his working bench to be examined.

“Egon, I need you to fuck me—” you choke out. “—right now.”

Strangely, there are no dry comments anymore. Only the hard click of his shut jaw and the slight fumble of his hand slapping yours away, diving into his briefs and finally – finally, getting out his cock. If you had more time, you’d put your mouth on it, just to have a taste of the glistening circumcised head. But for now, you stay perfectly content watching it disappear in the tight ring of his fist.

Realistically, you’ve stayed perfectly content for exactly five seconds.

“Come on,” you whine, spreading your legs. Ah, there is the aforementioned puddle.

“Yes,” he huffs. Yes, ok.”

With one hand, he grabs your left thigh, the other guiding his length closer and closer to your core, your heart beating furiously in your chest. His gland makes contact with your entrance. With it, he traces an unknown pattern on your lips, pushing its slit on your clit and mingling both your fluids together. Definitely driving you insane.

“E-gon—“

So he pushes inside, in one, unstopping, hard push until he’s sheathed, your body just a pliant scabbard. You choke on any retort, hissing, the stretch is obviously tight. Yet, deliciously aching, you engulf his length entirely and the sole sensation of your walls rubbed in that perfect way is almost too much. You tug him closer, finally pressing your sweating body to the unruffled surface of his clothes.

His big hand return to your other thigh and he fucks into you. His snaps are precise and strong; he completely erases any traces of pain with the fluid movement of his hips. You’re definitively panting, your hot breath bouncing back from his cheeks to yours and you forget about the weird twist of your body. Your squished position is making the column of his dick rub perfectly at the top of your entrance.

“Ah— oh fuck,” you close your eyes, lost in the heat.

Egon hums and hides in your neck once more, seemingly conflicted between kissing and teasing your skin with his breath. So close to your ear, you can discern the hitch in his pants, his hidden soft moans, and your heart sores.

“Can I—“ he whispers.

You turn your head to look at him, at his open face and big brown eyes and you know he could ask anything, you’d say yes. So, you nod.

He pushes you back gently on the bench, pushing away pencils and cables in a broad swipe of his arm. Some clatter on the ground and his impatience startles a laugh out of you. There’s a small rictus at the corner of his mouth that could either be a grin or a scowl; it only makes you smile more. Impatience is also starting to run wild underneath your skin. You spread your legs wider, your fingers lazily grazing your stomach up to your chest then dipping all the way down.

It’s indecent how you stretch around him; you love to feel it with the tips of your fingers. You’re stretching so wide your clit feels tight when you tug at it. It’s dry but it still grants you with a few shots of hormones. When you throw a look at Egon, you realize he’s watching, alternating with your face, the sight of his dick buried inside you and your self-pleasuring display. He sucks his thumb in his mouth, efficiently coating it before pushing your hand away and rubbing circles right on top of the bud.

The lubrication makes the action more pleasurable; reviving your calmed-down orgasm. Except, this time, you can feel yourself contract around his sex, as if wishing to suck him impossibly deeper. This small moment of trance, the calm before the storm, stops when he withdraws his hand, anchoring himself again to your legs.

From then, you don’t have to tell him anything: he snaps his hips forward hard. Your body pushes into the bench, your hand pointlessly grabbing the edge to keep you from slipping. From there, it doesn’t stop. He fucks into you ruthlessly, the position connecting him to you from tip to base. The buckle of his belt whacks the tender skin of your ass cheeks contrasting with the soft cotton of his pants. His right-hand pushes your thigh onto the flat surface of the table and your muscles are screaming with the stretch but they’re quieter than your moans.

“There— ah, please—“

He listens. The tip of his dick is lodged deep in your loins, the back-and-forth movement stimulating all the right nerves. You’re squeezing him, your folds moving with his cock, sucking him inside and locking him in, even when he pushes back. Sometimes the ridges of his head catch on your tight opening before plunging back inside, making you yelp. You wonder if you’re going to cum on his dick, too stimulated to prevent it.

You moan to the sounds of his slaps, to the rhythm of the bench creaking. Your eyes roll back when he aims a perfectly good shift and your free hand plays with your nipple, fueling the fire in your body.

“Shit,” Egon huffs out, his gaze glazy behind his glasses.

You understand. “Close too— just a little—“

He nods and aren’t his motions the best, the most precise… more erratic, quicker and shorter yes, but oh so good. You can feel the tell-tale tightening in your guts so you chase your own orgasm by pushing back, meeting his hips. His ball-sack slaps against your ass and your skins meet in loud smacks, definitely resonating in all the firehouse.

“Do you need—“

“No, no, just—“ you mewl. “Keep doing that, you’re perfect.”

The little moan he lets out travels through your body like wildfire. And there, you feel it: the hot spill of his semen inside you, coating your walls and it’s the mere sensation alone that finally pushes you over the edge. Your vagina cramps around his cock, your own ejaculation milky, dripping at the base of his dick and the noise is vulgar, loud and so fucking hot.

For a little while, he keeps trusting in, making sure everything belonging to him got stuffed inside you. It makes you clench harder, divided between chasing this almost-unbearable tightness or crying for him to stop. You have no idea if you’re actually crying but your cheeks feel hot as your body spasms, mouth lewdly hanging open, could you truly cum a second time from overstimulation alone?

But thankfully, he slowly slides out, both of you sighing. You immediately stick your hand down, feeling the dribbles of cum coming out of you, trickling down in the crack of your ass, on the table and on the ground.

Your breath finally settles down after a few minutes. Your eyes have drifted closed without you noticing. Your heartbeat is slowing down and you feel a deep wave of contentment replacing the past hunger.

“Hey,” his voice is back to its even self.

You crack one eye open. He holds one of the napkins, motioning you to sit up as he diligently wipes out most of your spend. The napkin is rough on your skin but you silently thank him nonetheless.

You throw a glance around you. You made an absolute mess. “Ew,” you scowl.

The little smile lightening his face makes your heart throb for an entirely different sentiment than before. You notice he’d already tug his cock back into his briefs like nothing happened. On the front of his pants however…

“Oops,” you chuckle. “’Guess you’ll have to keep working with your lab coat closed.”

Egon’s scowl of disgust is barely concealed as he unsuccessfully tries to wipe the remains of your self-lubrication on his cotton pants.

“I should change,” he states bluntly. One of his sleeves has slid along his arm during the act and his hair is truly a sight; you take great pride in his actual state.

“I think you look amazing.”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds before a beautiful crooked smile stretch on his face. You blame it on post-coital bliss but your whole body is screaming your adoration for this man.

“So,” your own voice cracks but you ignore it. “Successful experiment?”

Egon clears his throat. “I think more testing is required.”

Of course.

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters reader insert #non binary reader

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