#Me writing this: why does that I wanna kiss you line seem so familiar | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mewhenimanangel · 9 months

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everywhere ʚɞ miles morales x reader

pairing: 42!miles morales x reader

synopsis: you beg miles to help you write your extra credit paper so he invites you over.

wc: 3.2k

warnings!: swearing, harassment, creepy men, n word use, making out, google translate spanish

prev ʚɞ fin

why are you everywhere, fuck. miles couldn't get you out of his head it's like you were taking over his life. you became the center of his drawings, spending like three hours perfecting the small details on your face, your wispy eyelashes, the brown and pink in your lips, everything. and that kiss didn't make it any easier, it wasn't his first kiss but god it made him obsessed.

it was becoming a problem for his prowler work, his uncle told him to get his head in the game.

you were sitting in physics and he wouldn't stop trying to touch you. he kept his knee pressed on yours the whole class and kept crossing the imaginary line on the table to touch your elbow with his. you looked through the side of your eye and saw that he was staring at you. "the way i can feel your stare right now is insane" you giggled, whispering. "i literally don't know what you're talking about" he pressed his lips together and shook his head.

neither of you have spoken about the kiss you'd shared three nights ago. things weren't awkward it just kind of went back to the way it was before. at least that's what you thought.

it was the end of class and your teacher assigned a partner paper that was due on monday for extra credit points, miles didn't need the points however you did. "can you pleasee just work with me?" you begged, following behind him down the hall. "i don't even need it? i have a 98" he told you. "alright well unlike you my grade sucks, pleaseee i wanna make honor roll, and right now i have a 79" you pleaded, hooking his arm. he let you keep your hand there, secretly enjoying the contact. "why don't you ask somebody else who needs it?"

"cause you're the only one i talk to there, everyone else seems boringgg. plus you're smart" you tried to inflate his ego to work in your favor. he didn't say anything he just looked down at your pleading eyes. "milessss" was all you said until he rolled his eyes. "relájate maldita sea, i'll do it with you. can you come to my house tomorrow night or your dad still hate me?" he joked and you laughed a bit. "if i tell him it's for school he might relax a lil" you said "so does that mean you'll help??" you asked again with a smile on your face.

he loved that on you, definitely going back in his sketchbook. "ain't that what i just said chiquita"he scoffed. you squealed "thank youuu, okay i'll see you later" you pulled off his arm and turned down the hallway to your locker.

ʚɞ

you walked out of the grocery store with bags and a small baguette in hand that you were chewing on. god you adored the bakery in that store. you turned down the street in the direction of your building when you heard someone "ay pretty lady what you doing out here this late" you turned to your side and saw some random guy talking to you. "ha, don't worry bout me." you nervously said back, deciding to just keep walking. "ah mami, don't be so cold~" now you could hear the slurring in his words, obviously drunk. you still kept it pushing and he just followed behind. "that ass is looking tight though" he reached a hand out and squeezed at your butt.

"what the fuck?!" you shouted, reaching into your pocket for your mace to spray him. you turned around but paused when you saw the familiar mask you knew from the news, the prowler. he was staring at you with a finger over where his mouth would be and reached his claws around the guys neck and pulled him into the alleyway nearby. you heard the guy scream, and some thuds before ultimately what you thought was blood splatter and a body dropping to the ground.

that was when you decided to make a run for it, and when the grocery store was out of sight, you walked as fast as you could back to your building. even though he'd just helped you, you did not want to get caught up with the prowler at all. he would be on the news for various crimes - theft, arson, aggravated assault, murder, etc. again, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. you ran into your building and up the stairs unaware of that mask staring at you from the building across.

♱

miles was on his way home jumping from the rooftop to rooftop when he heard some voices on the street. he looked over and saw you being followed by some guy who looked drunk out of his mind. he followed on the roofs before jumping down, as silently as he could, behind the guy. he looked at the fright on your face and put a finger up to his mouth.

he grabbed the guy by the throat and pulled him into the alley behind him. he threw him down on the ground sending a kick to his face. he sent a punch to his face with his clawed gloved before throwing him up against the wall, sending another harsh blow to his face. it enraged him knowing that guy was tryna hurt you..or worse. he used the sharp claw to slice against his neck, the pressure sending his blood on the walls. he went limp and dropped to the ground. "one less fucking weirdo." he spat. he peeked out from the alley to see you were gone and practically sprinting back to your building, smart girl.

he followed behind you on the rooftops, something he's grown quite fond of doing when he would see you out on his patrols, to make sure you got home safe. he'd figured out which window was your bedroom a few weeks ago and didn't leave until he saw the lights turn on and your shadow illuminating against your curtains.

ʚɞ

it was friday afternoon and you got dressed to go over to miles' house. you got dressed in a pair of track pants with a baby tee and sneakers. you still wanted to look cute but you didn't want to feel like you were doing too much. you threw on your sweater and put your things in your bookbag and left.

you felt your palms getting sweatier the closer you got to the door. you knocked on it when you heard a muffled shout from behind the door. a few seconds later, you were met with miles - hair out and curly afro falling at the sides of his fade, black wife beater on that exposed his gold chain and well defined muscles. he had a pair of black joggers on that showed the waistband of his boxers, god he looked good.

"you gonna keep standing there or do you want to come in" he joked with you. you rolled your eyes fondly before taking your shoes off by the door "you took your braids out" you pointed out. "getting em redone tomorrow" he told you. "by the way, my mom's here and she insisted on making you dinner" he told you, you nod your head before following him to the kitchen. "ahh cariño, you must be y/n" a woman greeted you with a smile and a hug. "i'm miles' mom, rio. when he told me he was bringing his little girlfriend over i had to meet you. and i made dinner, hope you don't mind" she told you. "momm" miles groaned making you giggle.

"not at all ms morales" you smiled at her. "miles baby be a gentleman, take her bag and her sweater for her" she told her son. he went up behind you and gently pulled them off your back before going to his room. "you want a plate baby? i made pollo guisado y arroz" she asked you. "that sounds really yummy, thank you" you answered. miles came back from his room and shared his own plate along with you guys' and you all sat at their dining table. you sat in the chair that you figured was his dad's and you found yourself growing a little sorry.

you took a bite of your food and your face twisted in delight. "oh this is so good, been too long since i had good home food" you admitted, taking another bite. "thank you sweetie" her face softened with a sorrowful look. she'd heard about your mom after miles explained why he ditched school and why she got a call from some man telling her he was kissing his daughter.

"your house is really nice by the way, i love the feel of it it's so pretty" you told her. "ahhh you're gonna give me a big head, thank you bonita" she smiled at you. you looked up and saw a picture of miles sitting on the wall ledge when he was a toddler, mean mug on his face. "awww is that you?" you asked him, pointing to the picture. he looked at where you were pointing and smiled a little before nodding his head. "ahhh you're so adorablee" you said in a baby voice. he looked at you and you continued "and you still got that same mug" you joked, poking his cheek.

rio began sharing stories of miles when he was a kid and how stubborn he was. how he would test his parents' patience even though he knew they didn't play like that. she pulled out her phone and opened an album she had dedicated to miles and gave you to scroll through. you giggled at how cute and silly he was, but he did not seem amused. a video popped up of rio recording jeff throwing a small miles in the air and telling him how much he loved him. the air grew a little somber and rio cleared her throat "um don't you guys have a project or something, i don't wanna keep you waiting all night" she said picking up the plates.

"uh i can help wash up" you offered. "no, está bien. go hang out and do your work." she smiled. you followed miles to his room and looked around at his choice of decor. his bed sheets were a plain black, not much decorations on his wall except for a few rappers and album covers. he had a desk by his window and a mirror on the side of it. on his desk sat a laptop, notebooks, a lamp, pictures of his mom and dad and a sketchbook off to the side. it was open to you decided to be nosy and move closer to take a peek.

your eyes jumped a little bit when you saw what was an unfinished drawing of your face mid smile. "is this meee?" you picked it up and turned the page back one. this time it was multiple sketches of you from different angles. he moved to pull the book out of your hand and you gave him an awkward smile. "someone's obsessed. am i your muse?" you teased him. he closed the notebook and hid a smile shaking his head, "you are mad nosy" he told you. "draw me like one of your french girls, miles" you teased him some more.

you looked at his posters "frank, tupac, okay tasteee" you said. you continued looking around the room but he didn't seem too bothered by it considering he was sat on his bed just watching you. you looked a little through his shelves, checking out his book collection "i didn't know you read, scholar" you said, taking one down to read it. when you did that, something fell to the floor. miles jumped up to stop you from picking it up when he realized what it was. your smile dropped when you saw the mask you'd just encountered the night before.

"wait what is this?" you asked, tone a little more serious. "listen" was all he got out before you kept going. "don't tell me you're..." you looked at the mask and then back at him, mouth dropping as you made the connection. "ohh don't tell me you're the prowler!" you got a little louder and he slapped a hand over your mouth. "would you hush?! my mom doesn't need to know" he whisper yelled. you stuck your tongue out to lick his hand and he pulled it off you wiping your spit in his sweats. "well that's a really fucking dumb hiding spot!" you yelled back in a whisper.

"miles, you are the prowler??" you asked holding the mask in your. he looked away from your eyes before letting out a sigh and nodding his head "you cannot tell anybody" he pointed a finger to you . "aren't you literally killing people and stuff?? how could you do all of that?!" you argued in a hushed tone. "listen, you don't get it alright? im doing this to help my situation out so don't be coming up in here and judging me!" he argued back.

you sympathized with him a bit before biting back "but you're killing people, oh my fucking god you killed that man last night!" "i was doing that for you! stop fucking walking by yourself at night by the way" he said back to you.

"when did i ask you to do that for me?" you pointed a finger to your chest. "y/n don't you get it. i would do anything for you" he was getting desperate, moving closer to you. "what?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "there's not a line in the world that i wouldn't cross for you." he grabbed your hands. you didn't know what to say next. the tension was so high and you two just looked at each other.

he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, the force pushing you back into his shelf. his hands moved to your waist and your arms crossed behind his neck, deepening the kiss. he pushed his knee between your legs and your breath hitched in your throat. rio opened the door coming into the room "miles gonzalo morales, no hanky panky! you have work to do. ¡puerta abierta!" she shouted before leaving. your heart sank in your chest and you took a deep breath before looking back into his eyes.

"right that's why i came here. didn't come here to argue with you, think i'm gonna leave now" you said moving past him to your bookbag. "don't. i can still help you, i could write it for you if you want" he tried to stop you. you pushed your feelings down, you do still need his help, you could be mad at him later.

you spent the next thirty minutes searching through your textbook for information and typed it while miles looked up formulas and concepts. you groaned and threw your head back on his pillows. "ey i told you i coulda just wrote it for you, you wanted to be stubborn. ahora haz el trabajo" he told you. you only whined in response before staying silent with your thoughts.

"why are you doing it?" you spoke up. "what?" he furrowed his eyebrows. "the whole prowler thing" "i told you. to help my situation out" he shrugged. you got up on your elbows "no but like why?" he sighed and rolled his eyes

"i do it to help my mom out. she keeps taking mad shifts at the hospital and no matter how much she tells me not to worry, i do. i don't wanna see her stressing herself out like that, it's not fair. so me and my uncle help her out, he was the one who had told me he was the prowler and then i took over but now he just helps me out. and listen i'm not killing people like that. i know what the news says about me and i've only really touched like three people, plus that guy last night. and if i do kill someone it's never innocent people." he explained.

"so like a vigilante typa thing?" you asked him. "i don't know maybe. probably not the good kind though. " he chuckled, feeling a little sorry. you sat and listened to everything he had to say "i know i'm not innocent either, not anymore. but i'm not gonna stop till things are right for us again. i really hope you can understand?" he asked you. you thought for a second before nodding your head. "i don't even know why i'm telling you all that, you not an opp right?" he raised an eyebrow at you. "no, please i could never" you giggled.

he leaned so his face was close enough that you could feel each other's soft breathing while you looked into each other's eyes. he pressed his lips against yours, loving the way your soft lips felt against his. the kiss was softer this time, different from the one before. he put his hands on each side of your jaw.

he moved to line kisses down your neck and you reveled in the feeling it gave you. you bit your bottom lip and put your fingers in his hair before you caught yourself. "wait" you pushed him back a little "your mom said no hanky panky" you mimicked her with a giggle. "so?" he said moving back to your lips. "so..your door is literally open and she's in the room next door" you told him. he moved back to your lips "i can close it" you kissed back for another minute before pulling away again.

"i have a paper to finish" you licked your lips and you could still taste him on you. he helped you finish your writing and after about an hour and a half you clapped, glad to be done. his mom poked her head through the door "mijo, it's getting late. think it's time y/n head home?" she asked the two of you. you both frowned a little bit but you figured it was pretty late and nod your head "yeah okay, we finished up anyways" you smiled at her. you packed your stuff in your bag and miles shoved his feet in his uggs.

"you're coming?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "duh. don't think i'm letting you walk by yourself" there was so much sass in his voice you had to laugh. "alright nigga relax" you giggled.

"have a good night sweetie" rio called out to you from the couch. "you too, mrs morales" you smiled and waved. miles opened the door and followed behind you.

the two of you walked down the few blocks in comfortable silence side by side. miles copied the speed you walked and made his feet match yours in sync. "thanks for helping me by the way. i deadass wouldn't have finished this until probably second period on monday" you told him. "and that's why your ass was pushing a D" he joked with you.

you got to the outside of your apartment building and said your goodbyes, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and entered the building, heading up to your apartment. you showered and went to lay down with a lot to think about.

taglist ౨ৎ

@prettypink-princesss @itsnotino @r3d0n33 @iluvprowlermiles @jmsanchoo @stevenknightmarc @melllinaa @

#NIA WRITES ࿐#across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles x black reader #spider man: across the spider verse #prowler miles #earth 42 prowler #black reader

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impala-dreamer · 11 months

Text

Colder Weather

A Supernatural Story

~Dean's always been the one for you, but his life - hunting, fighting, almost dying constantly- it hasn't given you a chance to try. Until one day, things seem to change...~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester (briefly)

2858 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Romance, Angst, Glossy Smut. - Set somewhere inside the SPN Finale - S15E20, Carry On. - Just so beautiful and painful and ... damnit. I did, in fact, cry a few times while writing...

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

It’s the strangest thing. His skin is so incredibly soft in some places, so rough and tortured in others. He’s covered in scars, lines thick and faded to a dull white; holes where bullets have torn him through, but around those imperfections lie a universe of freckles covering the softest skin she’d ever felt.

His fingertips are forever calloused but so tender when they’re caressing her flesh, scooping up into her, even roughly holding her down. There’s fire in his soul but his kiss is pure love, lips so cracked but plush, smooth and tingling as they trail across her cheek, slide down to taste her.

Everything about him is a contradiction. He’s brave yet scared, strong yet fragile, quiet but so loud when he’s in her arms. He could talk forever with one cheek on the pillow they share, green eyes staring into hers as if blinking would break the spell.

He talks of forever, of leaving his life and settling down somewhere in the woods by a stream. He wants to spend his days fishing and learning to finally play the guitar for real. He wants to stand in the sunshine and breathe deeply, close his eyes for once and not be worried about something attacking from the shadows. He wants to put down his blade, lock up his gun, put it all behind him. He talks of nights spent by a little fireplace wrapped in her arms, fighting for space beneath a handmade blanket while the wind howls against the old windows. He wants to wake to her sleeping face, to brush the hair back from her cheek and kiss her delicate eyelids. To wake her with love, not an alarm. He wants to take his time, ride out the rest of his life by her side.

She teases him that they’d be bored after a while, that a fantasy like that would never last, but he swears that it would. Says with her, he could never be bored, he’d never want for anything ever again as long as she was there. Her cheeks burn from smiling and she bites her lip to hold it all in, but that only makes him want to kiss her, and they roll under the sheets once more.

Every time with him is the same.

There’s a text, maybe a call if he’s desperate to hear her voice.

‘I’m nearby. Wanna buy me a drink?’

‘Passing through on Tuesday, you around?’

She’s always around it seems, life hitting pause when her phone rings. She would put aside the entire world just to see Dean Winchester walk through her front door. And she does.

It’s a Thursday the last time she sees him darken her front steps. The sky is a deep oily gray with lighter clouds than makes sense. It’s been raining on and off for hours and the midday sun is lost behind the airy cover, lighting the edges of the world but only enough so that he didn’t have to turn the headlights on.

She heard the car anyway, didn’t need to see the familiar sweep of light across her front windows.

She’s at the door before he’s even got the driver’s side door shut and she hears the creak of metal, wonders why he’s never oiled the hinges. Everything else about the car is perfect; from the sheen on the tires to the way the raindrops slick off the hood and slid down the windows in a race to the ground. She can close her eyes and smell the old, worn leather in her dreams. Something comforting and warm even on a chilly day like this. She can feel the springs in the backseat give as Dean lays her down. Remembers the feel of the felted roof beneath her fingertips, the cool chrome pressing into her back. So many nights spent driving out into the middle of nowhere and finding bliss in the backseat together.

Dean looks up as he closes the door and a smile tugs at his pink lips. Realization catches in her stomach and Y/N wonders if he’s ever looked happier. His hair is a bit longer than last time they met, his face a little fuller, features more relaxed. He looks good, content. She dares to think: happy.

Even in his lighter moments, there’s always a darkness in Dean’s eyes. Something nagging at his thoughts, some horror lurking that she can’t get near. She would, if he’d let her. She would dig down deep into his soul and scrape away all the pain, all the scarred bits of him until he could breathe again. But he keeps her just far enough away that it’s always a mystery to her. She knows of his life, of the things that lurk in the night, but he never lets it touch her. Not once has she feared for her life, never have the monsters of the world knocked at her door. She’s his secret. His lifeline to normal. His good dream.

But now, he smiles so easily it almost scares her. Her cheeks twitch and she bites her lip, watching as he gallops up the walkway and takes the steps two at a time until she’s in his arms.

He smells like tacos from the road and is so warm she melts right into him, her face in his chest, her arms sliding around to hold him close.

“Dean.”

She looks up and he beams down at her, green eyes fresh and clear, cheeks rosy with a grin.

“You gonna invite me in or we gonna do this out here?”

She laughs at his assumption and slaps his chest as she backs away. She turns to go inside, but he grabs her arm, spins her back to him. His big hand catches her cheek and his thumb curls beneath her chin, lifting her face gently. His kiss is familiar yet striking, wet and hungry. She breaths him in too deeply and stumbles when he lets her go, dizzy and so in love.

“Won’t you please come in, Mr. Winchester?” she teases, bowing her head to invite him inside.

He chuckles softly and takes her hand, fingers slipping in between hers so easily it’s like they’ve been there forever. He kicks the door shut behind him with one muddy boot and the rain is left to carry on without them.

She shoves the jacket from his shoulders, nips at the tip of his ear. He kicks his boots off, paws at her chest.

They stumble through the living room, desperate for the empty expanse of her bed while they strip the road from his back. Naked and shivering, they fall together onto the blankets with searching hands and warm, hungry lips.

He’s starving for her, but he takes his time. Slowly savoring every inch of delicate flesh, he drinks her in, tastes everything she has to give. Relentless, he doesn’t stop until she’s breathless and begging for him.

His name reaches Heaven, pushed like a prayer from her kiss-swollen lips.

When it’s done, they lay tangled in the sheets, fingers laced, hearts synced.

She stares, counting the flecks of gold in his gorgeous eyes, pondering the changes she feels in him.

“You’re starin’ right through me,” he says, blushing like a fool.

Y/N shakes her head gently and lays her hand on his cheek. The stubble sparks against her palm and she rubs her thumb across his cracked bottom lip.

“Not through you,” she answers honestly, “never through.”

He kisses the pad of her finger and smiles. “Hope you like whatcha see.”

“I do.” She leans in, fingers sliding back to scrape lightly over his scalp. “I really do…”

Their kisses are soft and lingering, lazy. Leading nowhere. There’s no urgency, no push to overtake the other. It’s just peace and love and wanting to be close.

Dean catches her in his big arms, closing his hug around her head and kissing her hair. She laughs against him, captured and terribly, wholly happy.

She can hear his heart beating, feel it ticking beneath her cheek. It’s steady and calm, so different from the hundred times before.

“What’s up with you?” she asks, her words slipping out before she thinks them.

He sighs, relaxed. “What do you mean? I’m good. I’m… really good.”

“That’s… kinda what I mean.” Pushing back, she looks up at him and lets her head rest on his bicep. “You just… You seem different. So happy. There’s no… I don’t know, you’ve always got this dark cloud over you and today… it’s gone.”

Dean’s smile falls but it’s not for sadness. His lips pucker and smooth out, the dimples pop above his lip as he thinks about her words and how to answer. Thick lashes distract her for a moment as they flutter over a constellation of freckles and his deep whisper almost makes her jump.

“Something happened, Y/N. I’m still not sure if it was good, but I think it was. I really do. And… things are different now. There’s… hope. I have hope for the first time. I can see a future for me… for-” He takes a breath and brushes his fingertips across her cheek. “-for us, maybe. A real future. Not random hookups every few months. I mean… a real, honest life together.”

Shock washes over her and bubbles up into tiny laugh. She swallows it down and stares at him, her eyes flickering between his, in awe and surprised.

“Dean, I-”

Suddenly shy, he pulls his hand away, but she grabs it, puts it back against her cheek.

His voice cracks. “I didn’t mean to just assume-”

She kisses his palm. “Dean… I have never wanted anything more than to be with you. I hope you know that.”

The smile that spreads across his face is true and stunning and Y/N can’t help but trace it with her fingertips.

“You are so beautiful, Dean.” Her eyes float across his lips, his crooked nose, the deep seated crease between his eyes. “If you are happy, so am I. I mean that. And if… whatever happened has opened something up for you to be able to be with me… then- I mean- of course, I’m yours, Dean. Of course I am. I always have been.”

He crushes her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear, breathes her in as if she’s the only air in the room.

When the moment settles, he tells her everything. He talks of God and how they defeated the biggest evil in every universe. Of Jack saving them, bringing the world back and setting everything right. Wipes away tears when he tells her about Castiel and how he gave up his soul to save him. He smiles, amazed at how he and Sam finally broke away from fate and their horrid lives. He talks about feeling free for the first time in his life and how he’s thought of nothing else but being with her, of running away and starting their life together.

Y/N clings to him, listening with all of her being. She’s confused but grateful that he’s opening up, nervous to hear some parts, but happy that it all ended well.

Silence holds them close as they drift off to sleep, promises made and minds at ease.

He’s going to take her away for a while, somewhere with sand and sun and little rum drinks with neon umbrellas shoved in their tops. He wants to rub sunblock on her shoulders and run through the waves, feel the world around him, feel alive and safe.

He just has a few things to finish up back home.

One more hunt.

Then he’s out for good.

It should be easy, he says as he kisses her forehead and squeezes her hand. “More like one last road trip with my brother, really. Do what we do best, ya know?”

“Do you have to?” she asks, sad to see him go. “You could just text him. Doesn’t have to be such a dramatic farewell.”

He laughs and sucks his tongue against his front teeth. “Nah. Sammy deserves more than a text. Besides, I want to tell him all about you and that’ll take a while. And I gotta pack up my room, give the car a tune up and then-” He reaches down and wraps an arm around her back, tugging her close. “Then it’s you and me and clear blue waters, baby.”

He grins and she pushes up on her toes, sealing it all with a kiss.

She watches from the door until the brake lights are faded, until the glint from the chrome doesn’t catch her gaze anymore.

Days pass without a word.

There’s no answer when she calls, no reply to a text, nothing.

Worry stirs in her gut and Y/N spends the third night pacing her livingroom, running a trench into the hardwood with her barefeet. There’s an aching fear deep inside and she jumps whenever headlights strike her window.

It’s never him.

Panic wraps itself around her and she grips the phone, calling every number she has for him, listening to every voicemail intro like they’re ripping her soul open.

“Dean, please- whatever is going on, just call me. Please. I just need to know that you’re alright.”

It’s two in the morning when the line picks up. Her heart stops midbeat and pain webs across her chest. She takes a breath and presses the phone to her ear.

“Dean?”

She’s near to fainting waiting to hear his voice, but it’s not Dean who answers.

He clears his voice, takes a breath. “Uh- No, it’s… This is Sam.”

“Sam.” She says his name and her hands start to shake so badly it’s hard to hold the phone. “Um… Hi. I don’t know if you know who I am, I don’t know if Dean ever- well… My name’s Y/N. Dean was- We were-”

Sam exhales quickly and she can hear the tears on his breath. “I know who you are. He… Dean told me about you.”

“Oh. Good.”

This is wrong, she thinks. Something’s wrong.

She closes her eyes, blocking everything but the white noise in the background and Sam’s heavy breath. “Is he there?”

The pause is painful. She holds her breath, ready to scream, to run, to collapse in on herself.

“Sam?”

She can hear his hard swallow, a swipe of fabric across a wet cheek.

She can’t stand it.

“Is he dead?” she whispers. Her eyes are flooded already, jaw clenched so tightly against her trembling that her teeth ache. “Sam-”

“He’s… He’s gone.”

She can feel herself falling, takes the crash of her knees into the floor like it’s nothing. Her limbs go numb, her eyes blur.

She doesn’t want to ask but she has to know, has to understand.

“What happened?”

Sam’s voice is so low she has to strain to hear him.

“It was… it was so stupid. We, uh- It was just a milk run.” He hangs there for a long moment as memory washes over him. “I tried. I wanted to get him to the hospital but it was too late. I couldn’t- I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save him.” He trailed off, losing against his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

She wasn’t sure how long she’d laid there on the floor but it felt like forever. Her back was aching, body craving water after shedding so many tears.

She crawled to the bedroom, struggled up onto the bed and hid her face in his pillow. He always took the left side when he was there, always nuzzled deep into the down, said he loved her pillows.

The sheets still smelled like him and she pushed her face into them, wondering how long it would be before his scent left her for good. She clawed at the pillow, crushed it to her face, wanting to suffocate, die with him on her last breath.

“Dean…”

It’s the strangest thing. The sand is soft and yielding but rough between her toes. It’s hot too, like the sun has penetrated every tiny grain with heat and its pushing into her with each step.

It feels good.

She walks along the beach, skirting the waves as they breach the shore and threaten to overtake her. She stares out into the waves, squints at the sun. She sees the ocean for the first time and thinks of him. Of how tanned his face would be under the tropical sun, of how silly he’d look slathering lotion on his nose when he started to burn. She dreams about watching the sunset over the water, their asses sinking into the damp sand, the breeze tickling their cheeks.

Her heart aches for him but the tears never come anymore. She hugs her arms over her chest and closes her eyes, imagining his warmth, his love. If she tries really hard, she can feel his lips on her cheek, his firm chest pressing into her back, holding her close.

In some small way, he’s always with her.

And she holds onto that until the day she can see him again.

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #angst #spn finale #spn fanfic #one shot

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

get the girl- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, mentions of ned, betty, mj, and brad warnings: unrequited love (kind of?? implied), lotsss of pining and fluff, a little long about: requested! (DF4) “you fell asleep, i couldn’t move.“ + (DF31) “maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance.” a/n: been wanting to write a peter parker friends to lovers for a while, so thank you so so much for requesting this. i swear i don’t usually take this long?? i got carried away and it got way longer than i expected, i hope you enjoy! thank you for requesting!

peter thinks it’s hopeless. the cliche he’s stuck in seems cruel- no matter what the movies you (and, fine, yes, him sometimes) make him watch say. nothing that happens in them ever transpires to real life; beautiful girls don’t fall in love with their nerdy best friends and guys like peter parker don’t get the girl.

it’s fun to fantasize, though. and especially fun to look at you, particularly when you’re laying on his bed, oblivious to him standing in the doorway, observing as you twist your neck to get a good look at the polaroids he hung up on his wall. a familiar smile grows on your face when your eyes scan them, flickering to the polaroid camera you got him for christmas years ago.

you move to try to get a better look at them without standing up, glancing down when you feel a sharp edge poke at your skin. he watches as your eyebrows furrow in possibly the prettiest way possible and you pull out a polaroid from under you. and oh, peter is just now realizing exactly what that photo is and why it’s on his bed instead of hanging off the empty miniature clothespin that comes from the pack you thrust at his chest when you noticed the increasing pile of pictures on his desk.

he’s moving on autopilot towards you, the foot already halfway through the door used as a stepping stone to go to your side faster. he’s with you in less than three steps, tugging on your ankle and then tackling you as sensibly as possible, laying his whole body on yours. you oof, dropping the picture, having seen it for too little to really question it, and laugh breathlessly. “pete!” you wheeze, curling your arms around his back, one of your hands absentmindedly drawing figures through his hoodie and your other one inching up to his hair, already beginning to thread through the chocolate curls. “yes?” he hums innocently, furtively grabbing the polaroid you dropped and shoving it in the pocket of his hoodie before his arms wrap around your thighs.

“i told you if you keep doing that, one day you’re gonna get hurt,” you scold, looking attentively as peter leans his head against your chest. “me?” he questions, feeling you nod under his cheek. “uh huh, you. you’ll hit your head or something. for a spider-”

“spiderman. superhero,” peter corrects, you ignore him, “you are really clumsy.” peter huffs in dissent, letting a comfortable silence blanket over the both of you for a minute before he looks up at you. “what?” you ask, a smile brimming at the edges of your words. you’re so pretty, peter wants to say, but instead, he goes with a more best-friend-friendly question, “d’you wanna watch a movie?”

you nod at him, pulling your hands away from his head to play with the strings of his hoodie, “sure, what do we want to watch today?” peter’s eyes immediately light up, and you realize you never actually needed to ask. “fine,” you agree, trying not to grin too hard at the way his face brightens. “which one?” you request, watching his freckled cheeks flush pink in excitement, “sixth one. the best one, of course.” you smirk, shrugging, “right, don’t know why i asked, i basically know the movie word for word now.” peter can’t help but give you heart eyes at the knowledge of your knowing the script of his favorite movie. god, you really were the dream girl.

“‘kay, go make some popcorn and get everything ready while i go to the bathroom,” you request, tapping peter’s shoulder as a way to tell peter to let you out from under his body weight. he does the complete opposite of what you imply, however, nuzzling further into your chest and inhaling deeply. “peter,” you laugh, poking his shoulder again, “‘m comfy,” he mumbles, eyes closed. “pete, c’mon, i gotta pee and you’re lying on my bladder,” you whine, “also, don’t you wanna watch episode six of star wars while i eat popcorn and play with your hair?” you singsong. he’s suddenly moving his body off of yours to let you go, although not before pressing a sloppy- friendly- kiss to your arm, “hurry up.”

you giggle as you stand, stretching out your limbs and walking to the bathroom while peter watches you walk away. once he hears the bathroom door shut, he digs his hands into his pockets, fingers tugging on the polaroid he had shoved inside. a smile grows on his face without his permission when he holds it at his stomach, the light reflecting off of the smile that was printed on the picture. he traces a nail over your face, bright and open in the way that makes you gleam. it’s his favorite picture ever, the only one that managed to catch you so in your element, your natural halo of glow apparent in your outline. peter had scrawled the words best girl in red marker on the white space at the bottom- something he thought he could explain away easily if he had to. the picture had its own designated space on his wall, right in the middle so the importance was clear, but it was rarely actually up there, instead always next to him for inspiration when he was doing homework and on his dresser for when he couldn't sleep.

his lips quirk one last time at the photograph before walking to the wall where all the rest of them reside. he hangs it up, glancing at it once more until he turns to walk out of his room.

the movie is ready to play when you walk into the living room, and peter is in the kitchen making your popcorn. “it smells good,” you say in a greeting, sniffing the air and exhaling in satisfaction. peter laughs, “you do that every time we have a movie night.” you tilt your head at him, “do what?” he motions to you, “that. the whole smelling thing and letting me know how good it smells, it’s cute.”

your face heats when it slips out of his lips, pausing to absorb the words he doesn’t seem to have noticed he said. his back is to you, dumping the popcorn into a bowl for you. you can’t see it, but he’s freaking out, trying to think of an excuse if you decide it was too weird. you don’t do anything to imply that, though, just blink until the words dissolve in the air. “thanks,” you finally reply, as nonchalant as you can make it while you grab his m&ms. he hums in response, turning around to head to the couch, “star wars time,” he winks, making you grin.

you follow him as he heads to the couch, settling down next to him once he puts on the movie. the star wars theme starts, the tune fringed by peter’s humming. cute, you think, snuggling deeper into the crook of his arm and shoving popcorn into your mouth. “hmm, good,” you compliment, watching the scenes you’d seen so many times pass on the screens. you mouth along when you recognize the lines until your eyes feel heavy and they shut completely.

quiet thwips wake you up hours later, when the black of the night has bled the sky blue and the stars have littered over the clouds, the moon replacing the sun. you see that the movie is long over when you blink yourself awake, beginning to cuddle deeper into your pillow when you realize it’s too warm and hard to be a pillow. you are met with the vision of your best friend, lip tugged in between his teeth as he concentrates on something behind you. he doesn’t seem to notice that you’re awake, trying to remain as still as possibly while the thwip noises continue. he mutters a curse, scrunching his nose adorably before flicking his eyes to you. they widen when he notices you’re awake, dropping his hand. “what’re you doing?” you yawn, sitting up and away from the warmth of peter’s embrace. “uh- i just- the movie ended and you didn’t wake up, so i tried to get the remote, then i got hungry…” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, scanning the room and you turn to observe, stunned to see the mess of webs and dropped items you weren’t sure how you didn’t hear. “oh my god, what the- did you try to get everything with your webs?” you ask in bewilderment, eyeing a bag of gummy worms open and on the floor, you snap your neck towards him to observe his burning cheeks. “um. yes,” he confesses, blushing harder. “why didn’t you just get up?” you question, looking back at the ruined living room, exhaling in surprise as you notice the remote on the ground.

“you... you fell asleep on me. i couldn’t move.”

you pause, tilting your head slightly to look at peter, “pete, god, that’s so sweet. but you really don’t need to…” you motion to the dropped items, “do all that,” you laugh. peter shrugs, and you notice the tips of his ears are red, too. “i didn’t want to wake you up. i know how much of a light sleeper you are.”

you feel like you’re melting, every single muscle in your body drooping in the loveliness that was peter parker. you weren’t sure how the boy was real. you suddenly drop yourself on him again, wrapping your arms around his burning neck, “thank you, peter,” you say into his skin. like a reflex, his own arms go around your waist, holding you securely so you won’t fall, “‘f course.”

a moment of quiet follows until peter’s stomach rumbles suddenly, making you laugh, “i think i’ve starved you long enough. you pick today. also, when did you get so ripped? your arms are so big--” peter cuts you off with a groan, dropping his head on your shoulder, “you had to ruin the moment--”

peter doesn’t know what it is with you (actually, he does) that makes you so distracting. you’re just waiting in line for lunch, standing next to mj and laughing occasionally when she says something. all you’re doing is standing, and maybe it’s peter’s boy-hormones combined with his spider-hormones that magnify every single perfect feature of yours, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. you’re so pretty. the curve of the smiles that pulls into your cheeks, the twinkle that remains permanent in the color of your eyes, the way you look in that skirt--

“maybe if you stop staring at her and actually talk to her, you might have a chance,” a voice points out from next to him. peter scoffs, ripping his sight away from you to turn to ned. “i talk to her all the time. she’s my best friend.” ned shakes his head and sighs, “you talk to her about star wars, you talk to me about star wars, how is that supposed to help you have a chance--”

“i have a chance,” peter mumbles, trying to believe it himself, “she knows that she and you stand at different levels of best friends--” ned looks offended, “different levels? what is that supposed to mean--” peter stares exasperatedly at his best friend, “it means i want to date her and i don’t want to date you--”

“that’s a little rude--”

“hey you guys,” you greet, sitting down on the seat in front of peter’s and patting the seat next to you for mj. she stares at you silently, and you frown, patting the seat harder, “sit.” you instruct. she sighs and does what she’s told. “what were you guys talking about?” you ask, picking up your small plate of cherry pie to replace the bowl of orange slices that you took from peter’s plate. “thank you,” peter mumbles, digging his fork into the pie the moment you set it down. you hum, stealing a cherry tomato from his salad.

“oh, you know. the usual, your friendship with peter,” the latter shoots him a look and you raise an eyebrow, “that’s the usual? a little strange, don’t you think?” ned shrugs, “did you know that you and i stand at ‘different levels’ as peter’s best friends?” peter nearly chokes on his pie, glaring at ned. you cock your head at peter, thinking as you steal another tomato, “i… guess i thought so? i’ve known peter since, like, preschool, and we tell each other everything.”

“everything, huh?” ned wonders, a sound of pain falling from his lips when peter kicks him under the table. “peter.” he hisses. mj narrows her eyes at the two boys, “what is going on with you guys today? you’re acting weirder than normal.” peter’s face screws up in confusion, looking to you for help. you shrug, “she’s right.”

“i usually am,” mj mutters.

“so what is it?” you query, popping an orange slice as peter cringes at the mere thought of the taste. “peter has a crush,” ned informs helpfully, oblivious to peter’s dismay, “i- i don’t-”

you blink, feeling mj’s elbow shove into your ribs as her own way to make sure you’re okay. you ignore her, and it tells her everything she needs to know. “it’s liz, right?” you guess, trying to mask the hurt on your face with a teasing smile, “i saw you looking at her the other day. she’s pretty.” “no! it’s not- i mean, yes, liz is pretty, but i don’t like her or anything- ned doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” peter rambles. “pete, you don’t have to be embarrassed, i’m just upset you didn’t tell me,” you lie. peter’s eyebrows furrow, “you’re just upset that… i didn’t tell you?” he repeats. you nod, biting into another orange slice. “just that?” he asks meekly. you cock your head at him.

“i just- never mind. it’s not liz,” he says, poking at his pie. “so you admit you have a crush?” you start with a fake smirk, jabbing at your best friend with your fork, “just not on liz?”

“i didn’t… i didn’t say that-” peter stutters. your eyes narrow at him, lip tugged between your teeth, “i’m gonna find out who it is by the end of the day.”

peter is unfortunately sure you will. he’s not subtle as is, but you’re never deliberately looking for the signs, which makes it a lot easier to hide his embarrassingly large crush on you. but now, you'll be paying attention to his every move, and knowing you, he knows you won’t stop until you find out what you want, unless he tells you to back off. but, does he want you to back off?

he pushes his tray away, suddenly not feeling so hungry.

you stay true to your promise, hanging off his arm for the rest of the day, observing the way he acts around some of your classmates, but somehow not noticing the way he blatantly refuses to look at you- which proves humiliatingly difficult; peter never realized exactly how much he turned to look if you laughed at the joke too, or to catch one of your smiles when you hear something funny or peter whispers a joke into the shell of your ear.

by the end of the day when you’re walking to the train station together, you’re groaning at him, putting your full weight on his arm as you tug at him. “who is it? is it betty? oh my god, is it mj? is that why you kept looking at her?” you ask excitedly. peter wants to tell you the truth: he wasn’t looking at mj, he was looking at you, because as much as he tried, he couldn’t pry his attention off of you, who just so happened to sit next to mj.

“not mj. not betty,” he replies, pulling you inside the subway and scanning for free seats. you trail behind him when he finds a spot, letting you take it as he stands in front of you. “not them… it has to be liz, right?” you pry, sighing when he shakes his head. “brad- it’s brad, right?” you grin, whining when he denies it again. “can you just tell me if i got them already? i’ve practically said everyone in the school,” you complain, “they do go to school with us, right?” at peter’s nod, you drop your head against his abdomen, “and you have not said their name yet.”

“peter,” you drag out, reaching out for his hand to pull it, “just tell me! i can probably set you up with them!”

“y/n, just drop it,” he sighs, and you sigh too, mumbling a fine before noticing an older lady standing at the door. you wave her over, standing next to peter and letting her take your seat. peter feels like his heart will pop out of his chest.

the bumps of the subway push you close enough to him to feel the thundering of his heart, and your eyebrows knit together in worry, “are you okay? your heart’s beating, like, really fast-” yeah and your hand on my chest is not helping- “‘m fine.”

“is it because of the crush thing?” yes, “because i’m sorry about annoying you about it so much, if you don’t want to talk about it, i won’t bother you with it. just know that if they don’t like you back, they’re insane, because you, peter parker, are a ca-”

it was like a rubber band snapping, and peter suddenly couldn’t help it anymore, pushing his lips against yours, effectively cutting you off and catching you so off-guard, you freeze for a second before reacting, pulling his jaw closer. you almost tug him back when he pulls away, before you remember you’re still standing on a crowded, moving subway, and while kissing your best friend had been all you wanted for way too long, you were absolutely going to miss your stop if you didn’t stop.

“i- i’m sorry, i just-” peter stammered, stepping back. “no! so, please don’t apologize, seriously, it’s fine, it’s, like, better than fine.”

a beat of awkward silence passed before the tube halted to the stop right before yours. “it’s you. in case that didn’t… come clear. you’re the person i like,” peter informs quietly. “really?” you ask, cheek already pulling in a shy smile. “really,” peter assures.

this time, you don’t really care if you miss your stop, and neither does peter, now that he knows that, sometimes, peter parker does get the girl.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

Bakugou’s daughter brings home a Boyfriend

Bakugou x wife!reader

Ft. Bakugou’s daughter

Warnings: fluff, lowkey Crack, sexual mentions, small angst, cursing, Bakugou being such a dad

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: This is one of my favorite types of Bakugou. Domestic father Bakugou!! So bc of that fact, this piece was born. Hope you enjoy!

Bakugou as a boyfriend? Bliss. Bakugou as a fiancé? Heaven. Bakugou as a husband? Euphoric

Bakugou as a dad?.......he sure is something

Don’t get me wrong, Bakugou would be the ultimate dad

Baby crying in the middle of the night? Sleep love, daddy’s got it. Baby needs a bottle? He can warm it up with his hands. Baby’s feeling bored? Look at these mini fireworks in his hands!! Katsuki’s got it all

But that’s a baby Bakugou

Bakugou with a teenager

oOf

Katsuki’s teen will be either one of two things

His best friend

Or his mortal enemy (whom he still loves endlessly)

His 16 year old daughter, Katsumi, was both

And yes they loved each other very much, but they also got into battles on who could cook dinner better, who Y/N loved more, hell, when y’all came back from a restaurant THEY FOUGHT OVER WHO MADE IT TO THE FRONT DOOR FIRST

But this battle? Y/N might just let them Kill each other...just this once

——————————————————————————

“WHO THE FUCK IS THI-“

*SMACK* (thx Y/N)

“Daddy, this is Izuru! Izuru this is my lovely mother and that’s my shitty dad that I love so dearly!”

Katsumi definitely inherited her guts from the Bakugou’s

“Nice to meet you Mr and Mrs. Bakugou!”

Ah man, here we go

Silence. Pure, awkward, scary, silence. And of course Y/N’s nervous twitching HOPING that her dear husband doesn’t murder the green haired boy. As the young couple stand infront of the doorway smiling, the older couple is staring at them, one in nervousness, and the other in shock. (I’m talking Denki going 4 million volts shocked)

“Well.....Welcome Izuru! I knew you’d be coming over soon but I didn’t expect it tonight. It’s lovely to meet you,” Y/N ever so kindly said once she let out a sigh.

Her husband almost got whiplash from how fast he turned to look at her. “Knew?!? You knew about this kid?? And didn’t bother to tell me?!??”

“Well if I told you, you woulda stopped this meeting from happening ya jerk!” Y/N visciously explained.

“YA DAMN RIGHT CUZ-“ silenced with another smack from his wife. Y/N sure learned a lot from Mitsuki. “Please come in you two, I’ll start dinner.”

As the young couple sat in the living room speaking, the older one was in the kitchen preparing food. Well one of them was, the other was too busy burning a whole into the poor boy’s body with just his eyes.

*SMACK*

“Ow.” Continues to stare

“Suki stop that, you’re gonna scare the poor boy.” Y/N said.

“GOOD. I DONT WANT SOMEONE LIKE HIM CONTAMINATING THE BAKUGOU LINE!” The blonde dramatically yelled.

“Contaminating? Love, we don’t even know if they’ve had sex. I doubt he’s “contaminating” anything any time soon.” You said with attitude.

Bakugou just stared at you know with the same look.

“Hmph!” And turned to look back at the kids.

“HEY!” Bakugou screamed.

“Heyyyyy~” Katsumi replied.

“No not “Heyyyy~,” Katsuki began and replied with a girly impersonation of his daughter as he walk towards the couple. “I mean, HEY, as in have you had sex with this kid?” He sternly asked.

“KATSUKI OH MY GOD,” Y/N screamed as she dropped something in shock.

“.......Yeah, so what?” His daughter replied.

Y/N wasn’t even mad. She already knew. She could tell. Mother’s instinct I guess.

Katsuki was fuming.

“NOPE! NO! THIS RELATIONSHIP WONT GO ON! YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING SEX!” The older blonde screamed while looking at the now blushing green haired teen and his rebellious daughter. And Y/N was just giving him this...look.

‘What a fucking hypocrite’ you thought to yourself.

“How old were you when you fucked mom?”

(ITS QUIET AINT NO BACKTALK)

Pure and utter silence.

Katsuki started stepping back from the couple while facing them and nodding his head. “.....use condoms,” and walked back to his deceased wife.

As dinner is placed on the table and everyone takes their seats, Katsuki can’t help but stare at this boy. Why does he seem so familiar?

Everyone just ate and talked. Grades, school, when did y’all meet, how long has it been? The usual. But Katsuki remained silent while thinking. And then..it clicked!

Katsuki slammed his hands on the table and stood up from his seat looking at the boy across from him. “What’s your last name?!”

Izuru was nervous because he was well aware of who Katsumi’s father was and how her father’s relationship with his own father was kinda iffy.

“M-Midoriya sir.” He nervously stated.

Katsuki saw red.

“DEKU?!??????!!!!!” He screamed

“Oh come on Katsuki! Like that wasn’t obvious!” You said rolling your eyes.

“There is NO WAY IN HELL I’m gonna let the Bakugou line be contaminated with Deku’s genes! Our family line only brings in the best of the best!” Katsuki proudly and loudly stated.

“So what am I?” Y/N asked.

“The best of the best! You were and are the perfect one for me Y/N! You know this, I know this, everyone knows this. And look at what we created-“ he was interrupted by his wife.

“A mini you?”

“A MINI ME! And who wouldn’t want that?!”

“Dad.” Katsumi said.

Now that caught Katsuki off guard. For the past 16 years, Katsumi has always been a daddy’s girl. She never called him “dad,” ew. She said “Daddy,” or “Shitty dad.” As Katsuki turned to his daughter he could see the look in her eyes.

“.......you really wanna be with this kid?” He asked.

“I really do.” Katsumi said while grabbing onto Izuru’s hand.

“...Ok then. You can be with him.” Katsuki calmly said.

Katsumi excitingly got up and ran towards her dad’s seat giving him a hug.

“Thanks daddy,” she said while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Dinner continued on as normal as it could. Katsuki was just gonna have to learn how to let go.

Later

As the married couple got ready to sleep, Katsuki was hanging outside their balcony.

“What was up with you Blasty? I haven’t seen that kinda Katsuki since UA.” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him.

“You’re not scared?” Katsuki asked.

“Of?”

“Katsumi. She’s growing up. She has a boyfriend now. That girl is having sex! She’s not daddy’s little girl anymore.” He sadly said.

“That’s what this is about? Katsumi growing up? Suki, this was always gonna happen. She’s in her prime teenage years. She’s 16! A lots gonna start happening.” You began.

“I know that but-“

“But nothing Katsuki. You can be scared of her growing up, I am too, but we can’t be so scared that we try and stop her. You just have to know that Katsumi will always come back to us no matter how old she is. And she will always, always be a daddy’s girl. Her entire world revolves around you Katsuki, but we gotta let her go at some point. We have to let her grow. That’s how the best of the best are made after all, right? It’s what we look for in a Bakugou.” You finished.

Katsuki couldnt do anything but smile. You were right. He knew you were. And he was willing to let his little cub grow.

“......You’ve gotta stop interrupting me when I talk.” He laughed.

“And you’ve gotta stop saying the dumbest shit in the world.” You teased back.

He pulled you in for a quick peck and just held you there in his arms. He was so glad he had you to keep him grounded. You’re the best of the best after all. It only makes sense.

“Daddy?” Katsumi walked into her parents room, unnoticed.

As the two broke the hug to see their daughter, looking a little timid, Katsuki spoke.

“Katsumi, hey princess. What’s up with you.” Katsuki asked as he walked towards his daughter.

“You’re not...disappointed in me, right? You know, for who I chose to be with. I’m sorry if I chose Izuru but I-“ this time, it was Katsuki who interrupted.

“Hey hey, no of course not baby bear. I would never be disappointed in who your true feelings pulled you to. I don’t want you to apologize for anything when today I caused most of the trouble.” Katsuki said while wiping one of his daughter’s stray tears.

“You know I’m never gonna leave you guys. Right? I’m gonna grow up but I’ll always want to have a close relationship with you and mom. I love you guys, and I’m not going anywhere.” Katsumi said.

“We know Katsumi. And we love you too. And we’re far from disappointed in you. We are so proud of the young woman you’ve become today.” Y/N joined in.

Katsumi ran to her mother and gave her the tightest hug, and Katsuki couldn’t help but stare at his two girls. His world. His entire reason for living. All right there in his arms as he pulled them in for a bigger hug.

“Thanks you guys. Well, I’m gonna head to bed. I’ve got a date with Izuru tomorrow and I don’t wanna be late.” Katsumi began walking towards her parents door until Katsuki called her.

“Hey baby bear,”

“Yeah?”

“Izuru. He seems alright. He’ll be good for you.” Katsuki admitted.

“Yeah. He really is. He’s the best of the best after all. Reminds me of someone I know.” Katsumi said while leaving the room.

Yeah. Katsuki will be just fine.

A/N: Sheesh. This kinda sucked but I did this in my literature class sooo....it’s still credible work since I was writing, right? Yeah..?....No?...yeah ok. Anyways, HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT BEAR CUBS🧸💗

P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!! And I PROMISE I’ll get better and produce more work. Feel free to leave requests!

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theladyismyshepard · 3 years

Note

I love your characterizations of the daughters and all of your imagines they are fantastic! i was wondering would it be okay to request an imagine where the reader says to the daughters like during an argument or something,“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid!” and they all react to her in different ways? plz take ur time with the imagines and don’t feel pressured/rushed as ik writing should be something that is fun and not feel like a chore, thank you for all the content you have written so far :)

@frustratinglyinquisitive also maybe this could double as your #28 prompt? 🥺👉👈

Why Does Everyone Wanna Kiss Me So Bad?

The sunset was shining bright enough to sting and obscure eyesight, but that didn’t stop you from staring up into the pink and orange hues. Every time you blinked, the phantom flash of the sun still danced along your eyelids, leaving a glare across your vision. You weren’t even bothered by it, not when this numbness had clung itself to you, leaving you idle and just there. You flexed your fingers, and it rattled the chains locked around your wrists, bringing you back to where you were.

The boxed confinement you were trapped in felt more of a cage rather than the carriage bumping along the rocky trail that led you to your new prison — yes, Castle Dimitrescu sounded to be just another form of punishment, though you were uncertain as to why you were to be moved from Heisenberg’s watch to Lady Dimitrescu’s estate. You could hardly call it a step up from the twisted games he forced you to play within his factory.

You were sure you were on borrowed time and it was nearly time to collect, and you were certain that time had come when the four Lords surrounded you with Mother Miranda playing the head of the beast, leaving you cowering on the floor. The familiar iron hammer and the stench of billowing cigar smoke was on your right.

Standing next to him was quite possibly one of the ugliest... things you’d ever seen. A cloak hid a majority of his body, but you had the suspicion that the misshaped person next to Heisenberg wasn’t entirely human... you got that vibe from everyone in the room. Especially the weird doll that couldn’t seem to reign in its excitement as it bounced in the veiled woman’s lap seated next to Mother Miranda.

There was nothing human about the golden eyes that peered into yours from under the brim of a wide hat. They seemed calculating, curious, if not a tad bit confused as they surveyed your weak form. You looked away, unable to handle the weight of the woman’s gaze, and that was how you caught Mother Miranda’s bright eyes cutting into you from behind her bird-like mask.

“Oh, how I have been waiting to meet you, little one.” her voice demanded respect, but all you could do was gawk. “You are a stubborn thing, I’ve heard.”

Her gaze slowly crept over to Heisenberg as she said it, and you couldn’t help but feel a tremor of fright at his angered snarl, his arms crossed petulantly. It was true, you had endured many weeks at the hands of the leather-clad man, and while he did his worst, you refused to succumb to his torture, though for how much longer, you couldn’t say.

“I cannot fathom what keeps you here, but there is nothing special about the common human.” said Mother Miranda, and the mounting irritation was crystal clear. “You might have one looking like a dog chasing its own tail, but let us see how you fare in Castle Dimitrescu.”

You could immediately tell who dwelled there with the way the woman wearing white was smiling like the cat who ate the canary. She was completely predatory and was feeding off of Heisenberg’s disgrace and fury, and between the two, you weren’t sure who the best option was, not when her eyes turned to you and she looked like she knew exactly what she wanted to do with you.

“Do not worry, Mother Miranda,” the woman promised, already moving to stand, and the way she towered over you had your neck craned straight upward. “It’s been some time since my daughters had a plaything.”

That comment alone had the other occupants of the room guffawing and whistling. Everyone seemed to thoroughly enjoy the prospect of her daughters getting their hands on you, even Heisenberg had his eyebrows arched in surprise. Who the hell are these girls? Mother Miranda seemed to know and that was all that mattered.

“You are about to see what real monsters are.”

And that was how you found yourself roughly chained up inside the carriage that guided you to Castle Dimitrescu. You weren’t entirely sure why it was such a slap in the face to Heisenberg, but he seemed rather indignant as he loaded you up, spitting insults through the whole process.

You couldn’t say for sure how long you had been traveling, but it was enough to have all of your joints achey and your ass numb by the time it was all said and done. Hell, it was long enough to feel the temperature drop as you trekked back around the mountains that stood between the factory and the castle. Though that wasn’t to say that you were in any big rush to get there. In fact, your heart dropped when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Panic gripped at your heart, and it felt as though fingers squeezed tightly around it. It left you motionless where you sat, wide eyes glued to the door that you were shoved in through. You could hear Heisenberg muttering and rustling as he approached, but aside from that, you couldn’t hear the distinct clanking of his iron hammer. He had such little faith in your survival skills that he didn’t even bother with arming himself to release you. Not that he needed to... You’ve seen what he can become, and you’ve seen what he houses in his factory. He’d kill you dead in a few seconds flat if you tried anything.

But at this point, what did you have to lose? Mother Miranda made it very clear that you were to be eliminated at the hands of these daughters, so did it really matter if you died at the doorstep or in the dungeon? You might have accepted death, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a last fight out of pure stubbornness. So that was how you had every intention of kicking forcefully at the door once it began creeping open to have him stumble back, possibly cracking him straight in the nose in the process, but that didn’t go as planned right off the bat.

Not when the door was nearly ripped right off the hinges in the haste to open, leaving you jarred, mouth hanging. The sunlight was now faded and replaced by the beams of the moon, but it was a bright night, leaving you capable of seeing that this was definitely not Heisenberg. And neither was she... or her. Uh oh.

“Mother! She’s here!” squealed the redheaded girl closest to you, clapping happily.

“Thank you for the gift, Mother,” said the brunette, her smirk not reaching her dead eyes.

“We will not disappoint you.” promised the blonde, her eyes observing your every move like a hawk.

“Have fun, daughters, but do remember that this one comes special from Mother Miranda, so do not forget to thank her.” their mother instructed, as if you weren’t there.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” all three said in unison before three different pairs of hands grabbed whichever part of you that they could.

Heisenberg clicked his tongue from where he leaned against the side of the carriage. He had an arm crossed while the other brought a cigar nestled between two fingers to his lips. You couldn’t read his eyes from behind his circular sunglasses, but you could read the entertainment in his toothy smile before he took a drag. When he blew it out into your direction, his satisfied grin spread again.

“Now, you have fun now, too, ya hear?” He mocked, chuckling as he turned on his heel, mounted the carriage, and prompted the horses to carry him off into the night.

“We’re gonna have lots of fun.” giggled the redhead, her smile the widest of the daughters as she tugged at your arm, dragging you along the pathway towards the castle.

“Not if I get to her first,” the brunette chimed in, her own grip on your other wrist tightening and pulling, almost like she was trying you get you away from the other.

“Who said either of you get the first turn?” the blonde interrupted, frown etched into her face as she tangled her fingers into the collar of your shirt.

“Enough,” drawled Lady Dimitrescu, voice barely more than a bored mumble, but it still had the daughters zipping their lips. “Bela, you are the oldest, and less likely to break her before your other sisters get a turn, so you may have the first turn.”

The blonde grinned brightly while the other two scowled but saying nothing in front of their mother. Your eyes couldn’t decide where to stay as you glanced between all four women as they finally led you through the entrance of the castle. You noticed that the temperature didn’t really increase from taking shelter, the walls giving off their own chill to substitute for the lack of outside wind.

You didn’t even have time to marvel at the interior before Bela was tugging at you with renewed eagerness. You caught the slight growl from the brunette’s direction, but one glare from the Lady and it ceased. What the hell was really going on here? You never had time to process anything before sister after sister said something that left you reeling.

“Aww, her heart’s racing!” announced the redhead, her eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at your chest. “Please let me-”

“Daniela, no,” snapped Lady Dimitrescu sternly, her frown lines on display. “You will be last, and that’s that.”

Daniela’s face twitched in her attempt to bite her tongue to prevent her argument from bursting forth. It didn’t stop her from turning and giving the brunette a glare however. You gasped when her body dissolved into a swarm of bugs before your very eyes. They dispersed and flew this way and that, and you honestly don’t know why it still shocked you when the brunette followed the same exit style. A nose pressed against the side of your neck and you jolted so hard that you nearly broke free of the hand that was now caressing your shoulder.

“Such a jittery, little thing,” whispered Bela so quietly that her following inhale was louder. “Though I hardly smell the sweet scent of terror... Is this one broken, mother?”

You couldn’t help it, you had to chuckle at the complete honesty in Bela’s question. Your lack of fright baffled this girl almost as much as she baffled you altogether, and suddenly you were staring each other down. Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously as she cut her gaze up and down your body. Even Lady Dimitrescu arched a finely sculpted brow at you, seeming more interested now than she did among the other Lords.

“Mother Miranda assures there is nothing special about this one.” said Lady Dimitrescu.

“Why do you not fear me?” demanded Bela, almost sounding offended, her grip on your shoulder tightening. “Your heart is pounding but you aren’t oozing that smell that I like!”

“It’s kinda hard to fear death when you don’t even care about living anymore.” You deadpanned without much feeling, your eyes finding the ground more interesting. “Heisenberg rid me of everything that made me who I used to be.”

“And just who were you before my dear uncle dug his claws into you?” pressed Bela, and you refrained yourself from showing any outward reaction to their connection. You swallowed as you looked her dead in the eye now.

“Someone who would have the common sense to know just how dangerous you are.” You answered, and her brow furrowed.

“Who are you now?” She questioned quietly, her eyes softening a bit under the chandelier light. All you could do was shrug, you had no concrete answer for her, yet you knew you had to supply something.

“Someone who thinks that being abducted by three beautiful women isn’t exactly the worst case scenario,” you chuckled mirthlessly, the bitter smile on your face cutting into your cheeks almost painfully.

Bela stared at you almost dumbfounded before she had to look at her mother, almost as if to double check that she indeed heard correctly before she burst into a fit of giggles. Lady Dimitrescu didn’t even meet her eye, she was too busy staring into your soul. Only when your eyes fell to your feet did you hear her heels clicking away up the winding staircase.

“Remember what she’s here for, dear,” she drawled, never turning back, and leaving you alone with Bela.

“If you’re gonna kill me, just get it over with.” You spat, attempting to sound brave rather than defeated.

Bela’s smile was almost animalistic with the way blood smeared across her lips and stained her teeth, and you couldn’t help but to feel like the prey when she took slow, deliberate steps around you.

“Oh, no, where is the fun in that?” Bela countered, reaching out to graze over whatever part she could touch as she continued to stalk around you in circles, taking you all in. “You are my pet now.”

“I thought I was a plaything.” You couldn’t help but throw back into her face, and you were surprised when Bela merely cocked her head instead of getting angered by your outburst.

“Mother Miranda might not find anything special about you, but call me fascinated.” said Bela, stopping in front of you, her fingertips caressing your throat. “You belong to me now.”

“Us,” corrected a sudden voice behind you, and the haze that was settling over you in Bela’s presence was lifted when you jerked forward.

You tried to whirl around on your heel out of reflex to back away, but Bela’s fingers dipped from your throat to grip at the collar of your shirt to keep you still and facing her. You flinched away from the sudden hand that tangled in the bottom of your hair, pulling your head back until it was resting against a shoulder. Brown hair cascaded down into your eyes.

“Mother Miranda gave her to all of us.” corrected the brunette, the edge in her voice making it like steel.

“Cassandra’s right,” sang Daniela in a sing song voice, and it had a shiver running down your spine, which prompted a round of wild giggling. “Did you like that, pet?”

“If we’re being technical,” Bela piped up with an eye roll, trying to pull you closer and failing when both Daniela and Cassandra tightened their own grips on you. “Mother Miranda gave her to us to tear apart, so she wasn’t meant for anyone.”

“Buuuuuuut?” You interrupted, hoping to add a touch of humor to your case.

Daniela giggled and Bela shook her head in mild amusement, but you found that Cassandra was the more difficult one to crack. She didn’t offer a single facial expression as her eyes surveyed every inch of your body, and you couldn’t tell if she was appreciating the view or if she was sizing up which part of you she wanted to rip off and take for herself.

These three women spoke so callously and so nonchalant right in front of you. These three women were what Mother Miranda referred to as “monsters” compared to the actual beasts you had seen lurking within Heisenberg’s factory. These three women were spattered in blood that you somehow knew wasn’t theirs, and they wouldn’t stop touching you. Hm.

“Aren’t you funny,” Cassandra said nearly monotonous, but her smirk was on full display, and you cursed the light, fluttering feel of your chest.

“I try,” you whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would be taken as a threat to these crazed women, but you did look her in the eye to gauge her reaction.

“Can we keep this one, Bela, please?” whined Daniela, pouting at the blonde.

“I don’t think mother would allow it though.” Bela worried, finally releasing her hold on your shirt, and that had Cassandra and Daniela pulling you closer (and almost apart).

“She is ours to do as we please, we’d kill her if she tried anything.” snapped Cassandra, looking like the whole situation was stupid to her.

“Obviously she will not try to escape!” insisted Daniela, nodding her head furiously towards who you were guessing was the older sister, before turning to you. “Right?”

Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela were all looking at you expectantly, and you couldn’t help but feel warm under the spotlight. You could practically see the thoughts flicking through Bela’s calculating eyes. Cassandra was cool and reserved as her eyes gave nothing away, but her wicked smirk showed she wanted something from you, whatever that might be. Daniela’s eyes were intense as they bored into you, and her smile was almost unhinged, and honestly who were you to break it?

“I could never say no to three pretty girls.” You flirted, wagging your eyebrow to each sister, and the response was immediate.

Bela’s mouth parted in a silent gasp before she latched onto the front of your shirt again and started giggling. Cassandra looked entirely predatory now as her eyes flashed and her smirk showed all of her teeth, her own chuckles slipping out. Daniela, who was curled around your arm the whole time, had stars in her eyes at your answer and she smiled widely, throwing her own cackling into the mix, and suddenly it was a symphony.

“I want her first,” pleaded Daniela, eyes never leaving you.

“Mother said it’s my turn with the pet!” said Bela, tugging at you again.

“Why should we get her after she’s been used?” Cassandra argued, her arm now wrapped around you from behind.

“I won’t break her!” snapped Bela, her pulling useless when it was a deadlock between three pairs of hands.

“I don’t care!” cried Daniela, one arm curled around yours and her other hand reaching up to grab your opposite shoulder, locking you in. “I want her!”

You swallowed past your suddenly dry throat. The three sisters were not only talking about a possibility of keeping you around, but it sounded as though they were fighting over you. Your cheeks were aflame as you averted your eyes.

“Look who’s bashful all of a sudden,” jested Cassandra, both her hands falling to your hips. “Where’s all that talk now?”

“I can smell you blushing.” Daniela interjected, sniffing aloud and moaning. “You smell so good... we need to make you blush often.”

“Are we sure we can hide this from mother?” Bela asked one last time, almost like she was seeking permission from her younger sisters now. Daniela and Cassandra shrugged.

“We’ll just have to find out, now won’t we?” You pressed, looking to solidify your place among them... you’d take the position of “pet” over the one of “food” any day.

“Brave little thing,” Cassandra cooed, her fingers rubbing circles on your hips. “I need you with me.”

“Dammit I said it’s my turn!” snarled Bela, finally poking and prying at her sisters fingers locked around you.

“Just because you’re the oldest-!”

“You’re damn right I’m the oldest, and I-”

“You look so stupid,” spat Cassandra petulantly, having enough with going nowhere in the argument, and you could see that this was about to get old quick if you didn’t ease some of the tension.

“You all wanna kiss me so bad it makes you all look stupid.” You sucked your teeth between your lips when it grew deadly silent.

Bela had a crease between her brow as she stared at you in shock, uncertain if she heard you right. Cassandra was a blank slate as she absorbed you taking her insult and turning it back around on her as well. Daniela was wide eyed as she gaped at you for a full five seconds before she snorted and her megawatt smile lit up her entire face.

“I won’t let them get rid of you.” Daniela promised, and you couldn’t recall the last time that she blinked.

“Okay, okay,” sighed Bela, glaring at her sister. “We’re all going to keep her.”

“I hope I don’t break you.” chuckled Cassandra, and coupled with her breath so close to your ear, it had warmth flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t get bashful on me, now,” you smirked back, relishing in the giggles that surrounded you.

“Come along, plaything,” quipped Bela, winking at you as she dragged you along, the sisters following along with her this time. “We’ve got to show you your new home.”

Wild giggling echoed throughout the castle, and it was becoming your new favorite tune.

#bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu’s daughters x reader #alcina dimitrescu

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skywalkerstyles · 3 years

Text

Poly Relationship with Bakugou, Todoroki and Deku

Imagine 15: pouty dove

Warnings: jealousy, pouting, dirty talk, fluff, mentions of smut, slight Dom!Shoto, 18+

Request: can you write the poly!todobaku deku with a reader who's jealous? not really angsty, like no fights. the reader just being all cute and petty, and they all baby her

A/N: she’s not necessarily‘babied’ but I hope you like it!

You were hanging on Katsuki’s arm while you all window shopped. It was a beautiful day and the boys had a day off so you all decided to go out and enjoy the weather.

Katsuki huffed, grumbling about how clingy you were, blush lightly sprinkling his cheeks. He didn’t really mind, but he knew you thought it was cute when he acted annoyed.

“Little Dove,” Izuku put his hands on your hips, pulling you into him from behind. He nuzzles your neck, kissing softly at the skin and sighing. “You look so pretty in that sundress today.”

“Hey Deku! What are you-“

“OH MY GOD LOOK! ITS DYNAMIGHT!”

“AND SHOTO!”

“AND DEKU”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEK”

You’re shoved to the ground as a gaggle of fan boys and girls crowd around your boyfriends. You can see them looking around for you, but unable to sate the fans.

“DEKU MARRY ME!”

“I WANT DYNAMIGHT”

“SHOTO I LOVE YOU”

You grit your teeth, dusting your knees and cross your arms. You watch them hang on your boyfriends, their attention distracted from you and you can’t help the jealousy you feel.

“Alright, alright one at a time.” Katsuki shouts, clearly in his element. His chest is puffed and a confident smirk on his face. Shoto looks calm and indifferent while Izuku clings to Shoto’s side, looking a bit scared. You sigh, kicking a rock and beginning to walk away.

“Stupid pro hero boyfriends.” You’re almost out of ear shot when you feel a familiar hand on your wrist.

You turn as you’re pulled into Shoto’s arms. He’s chuckling at you.

“Baby bear. You’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He brushes your hair from your face and kisses you softly. He looks down at your knee, which you didn’t know was bleeding from your fall. He tsks. “Baby you’re hurt.” You push him off.

“I’m fine. Go see your fans.” You grumble, turning again. You hear Shoto laughs and before you can throw another petty statement, Shoto is lifting you into his arms and carrying you towards the gaggle of fans and your other boyfriends.

“Little Dove!” Izuku exclaims, the worry on his face disappearing when he finally sees you. Katsuki pauses on the autograph he’s signing and looks at you.

“You alright Baby girl?” You just huff, struggling out of Shoto’s arms, he doesn’t let you down.

“Put me down Shoto. Hang out with your fans.”

“Hmm. I don’t think so.”

“Excuse me.” A smaller girl with brown hair and pretty green eyes is looking at Katsuki, and the way she’s looking at him makes you growl. Only Shoto hears it and he taps your ass in a gentle reprimand.

“Behave.” He growls in your ear. You humph and lean against his shoulder as he holds you effortlessly.

“Dynamight. I wanted to....I wanted to confess to you! I love you!” You we’re seeing red. Katsuki’s cheeks flushed slightly as he looked at the expectant girl.

Izuku stepped into your line of sight, reaching out to thread his fingers through your hair and kiss you. He kisses your lips and your nose.

“So sexy when you’re jealous Little Dove. God it makes me wanna do so many things to you.” Shoto chuckles.

“I have some ideas as well.”

“I thought that girl was Shoto’s girlfriend? Why is Deku kissing her?” You heard the fans murmur. Izuku pulls away, looking at the fan who said it.

“She’s my girlfriend too.” Disappointed grumbles echo through the crowd.

“How does that even work?”

“She’s so lucky.”

“She’s greedy. What does she need two pro heroes for.” That one hurt. Shoto notices your distress and nuzzles your nose.

“Don’t listen baby bear. You know we love you.” Then you hear Katsuki, as he’s seemed to regain his ability to speak.

“I uh....I appreciate it but,” he comes to stand beside the three of you, looping his arms around Deku and Shoto. “The four of us are together. We love each other and we’re happy. If you really love me, or Deku or IcyHot, you’ll respect that.” He sees the scrape on your knee and leans down to kiss it. The crowd squeals at how cute that is.

The four of you hadn’t discussed going public. You didn’t really want anyone in your business, but you were glad to know they’re as loyal to you as you are to them.

*later that night*

“Fuck you’re so hot when you get all grumpy and jealous.” Katsuki groans as he fondles your breast’s roughly.

“Yeah Little Dove. Told you it made me wanna do things to you. Gonna fuck you silly now.” Izuku sucks on your thighs, gripping your hips tightly to keep you from bucking.

“You,” Shoto drags his finger down the side of your face. “Are mine.” He bites your lip and sucks it into his mouth.

Collectively they want to see you jealous more often.

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

#timothee chalamet #concerto #timmy t #chalamet #tim chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee fluff #timothee imagine

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ptergwen · 3 years

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Hi val! Got a request, it's okay if you don't wanna write it, but can you write about peter telling the reader he's going on a huge mission and he's excited about it but the reader is so worried they end up arguing? But when peter gets back from mission all bruised, the reader is still upset but dresses his wound anyway and it ends up with fluff??

abort mission

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, and angst

a/n: woah woah woah i ended up writing way more than i expected but i loved this request so much :,) i hope you do too

“we’re staying in this, like, super fancy castle while we’re there. it’s gonna be awesome,” peter rambles to you. he takes all the clean shirts in his drawer and throws them into a suitcase.

he’s packing for a mission in europe with the avengers, and you’re here to say goodbye. you’ve been pretty quiet while peter gives you as many details as he’s allowed to. it’s always an honor when the team invites him on. he gets so stoked about it. you’re happy he’s happy and gets to pursue his passion, but you’ve noticed a pattern.

every time peter leaves the country with earth’s mightiest heroes, he comes back in worse condition than the last. it seems like they protect everyone except peter. he’s oblivious to the fact that the end result is always his suffering. he’s just glad to be there. really, he gets nothing in return except scars that never heal, not even a permanent spot on the team.

so, you’re not thrilled he agreed to go.

“plus, i get to miss two weeks of school.” peter beams, getting onto his knees to zip the suitcase. “feels like a vacation almost.” “you like school, though,” you remind him. you’re sat at the edge of his bed while you watch, rather than help. he hops up again with a shrug. “i like vacations more.” “it’s not a vacation,” you mutter to yourself, then speak up.

“how are you gonna catch up? that’s a lot of missing assignments.” with that same innocent smile, peter walks over to you. he grabs both your hands and laces your fingers together. “i’m a fast learner. besides, ned said he’d help me.” you sigh, looking down at the floor so you don’t have to look at peter. “or, you could. make it into a little study date when i get back,” he suggests while playing with your fingers.

“i don’t even want you to go,” you finally admit and meet his sparkling eyes. nothing could ever dull them. “why not? you’re gonna miss me?” peter teases, pressing a couple of kisses to your palm. “you don’t have to. i’m pretty sure france has wifi.” he wiggles his eyebrows. “oui oui, mademoiselle, eh?” despite yourself, you giggle at his french accent and tug on his hands. he sits down next to you with a chuckle.

“nat has been giving me lessons,” peter explains, you quirking an eyebrow. “she speaks french?” “she speaks a lot of languages, actually. she’s so cool.” peter scoots closer to you and sets his hands on your waist, his voice dropping. “you’d love her.” your face twists up in confusion at the idea.

you don’t have anything against the avengers, obviously. they’re good people. you’re just not the biggest fan of them at the moment, considering the circumstances they’ve put peter under.

“peter, i don’t want you to go,” you repeat more seriously than before. your teeth sink into your lower lip. “and, it’s not because i’ll miss you.” “none taken,” peter jokes, implying there should’ve been a no offense. he then realizes how distressed you look, so he cuts it out. “sorry, sorry. i’m done now. how come?”

you take his hand again and hold it tight. “what if you get hurt?” you ask in the nicest way possible, out of care. “i don’t wanna see you hurting, pete. this mission sounds really... dangerous.” he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, his grin faltering a bit. “it is, but i’m ready for it. i’ll be fine.”

you’re not convinced yet. that line he likes to overuse isn’t enough to do the trick.

his eyes searching for yours, peter brushes a piece of your hair back. “have a little faith in me, babe.” “no, i... i do. i have the most faith in you, peter.” you find yourself frowning as he twirls your locks around his finger. “that’s not the problem.” peter’s voice becomes a whisper. “what is it, then? talk to me.”

you do the opposite because you’re afraid you’ll upset him further, which is the last thing he needs right now. your silence prompts peter to fill it. “would it make you feel better if i say mr. stark is keeping an eye on me?” he’s smiling sheepishly, you scoffing. “oh, like he kept an eye on you in amsterdam?”

the only eye related activity that happened there was peter almost losing one of his. he’d come back with an eyepatch and couldn’t see out of it for over a month. to this day, there’s still a bit of blood in it when you look close enough.

“i already told you, that was my fault,” peter grumbles, turning so he faces forward. “i didn’t listen to him-“ “who gives a shit? he’s the one who put you in that situation!” you blurt out. you’ve been way too patient this whole time, and now you’re reaching your breaking point. “you say that like i didn’t wanna be there.” peter clenches his jaw, still mostly calm.

“either way, mr. stark,” you mock what peter always calls him, “was supposed to keep you safe, and he didn’t. i’m scared it’s gonna happen again.” letting out a noise close to a growl, peter stands up from the bed. “you’re not listening to me, y/n. everything was fine. i just-“ you’re not in the mood to hear him make excuses, so you interrupt.

“do you know any other sixteen year olds who fight literal terrorists on their free time?” you rhetorically ask and get to your own feet. peter tries to walk away from you, only you follow him. “you’re a kid, peter, in case you forgot.” he spins around to give you a nasty look. “do you know any other sixteen year olds who stick to fucking walls?”

your heart starts to race from his sudden outburst. he’s scary when he’s mad, and he almost never gets mad at you. all you can do is blink dumbly. “didn’t think so,” peter spits. “this is what i’m supposed to do, help people. is that so wrong?” his breathing becomes ragged as his anger grows.

“what about you? are you helping yourself?” you speak softly, expecting an answer this time. “you’re not my fucking therapist, y/n,” he deflects the question. “i am your girlfriend, though. i care about you so much, you know that.” eyebrows furrowed in concern, you reach out for peter. he takes a step back. it doesn’t take long for tears to cloud your vision.

“i was excited to share this with you, and i thought you’d be happy for me.” peter balls his hands into fists at his sides. his voice stays low. “instead, you made it all about yourself. you can never let me enjoy team stuff.” you’re speechless, peter nodding as he lets his words sit. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re an asshole,” you laugh out bitterly and wipe under your eyes.

he didn’t mean to make you cry. he was so caught up in himself, he didn’t realize you were.

peter’s whole demeanor changes. “y/n, baby...” he attempts to put a hand on your cheek, but you hit it away. “get off of me. what did i just say?” you sniffle, your tone harsh in contrast. “you’re an asshole, peter.” he changes his mind about feeling bad. you’ve berated him way more than he did you, anyway.

“you should go. i have to be up early,” peter decides, even though he’d said you could stay the night. whatever, you don’t want to anymore. “fine,” you agree shortly. “i’m leaving.” he stands there while you collect your things, shoving them into your bag. you’re going slow enough so he has a chance to stop you. he doesn’t.

you pass by him on your way to his door, sucking in a breath. here’s your official goodbye. “see you later, peter. don’t die.” “mhm, i won’t,” he replies, his tongue poking at his cheek. with one more shared look between you two, you make your grand exit, no doubt informing may of her nephew’s behavior before you’re gone.

peter immediately regrets the way he talked to you, and that you’re leaving things like this. you were only trying to protect him. you’ll never be able to save the city like he does, so this is how you do it. he truly is an asshole for not seeing that.

frustration consuming him, peter kicks over his fully stuffed suitcase, its contents spilling out. he grits his teeth.

“fan-fucking-tastic.”

you don’t talk to peter the whole two weeks he’s gone except for some are you alive and yes texts. he’d called you quite a few times, and was sent to voicemail for all of them. he gave you the benefit of the doubt because of timezones.

it was actually because you declined, which peter knew deep down was the real reason.

he’s coming home from his mission today. you’re not sure when or if he plans on dropping by. you’re not sure you’d like him to, either. you don’t really get a choice in the end.

there’s a series of knocks at your window, at some ungodly time in the night. you’re all too familiar with this routine. it’s peter.

you slip out from under your covers, a scowl already painting your face as you go to the window. surely enough, peter is perched in front of it, clad in red and black. the suit must be new because you’ve never seen it. you push up the window and step aside so he can get through.

“thanks,” peter mumbles, climbing into your room less gracefully than usual. he’s sort of wobbly when he lands. “yeah,” you dully acknowledge. “how was france?” “uh, good. you know, lots of cheese and all that.” his voice is muffled from his mask, since he hasn’t taken it off yet. that’s odd. “i was talking about the mission, but cool,” you almost laugh back.

“the mission was... fine,” peter clarifies and scratches the back of his neck. he never describes something as simply being ‘fine.’ when the boy talks, he lectures. you’re starting to get worried. “that’s good. at least you didn’t die, right?” you say to lighten the mood. peter awkwardly chuckles. “haha, yeah. thank god for that.”

you hum and walk over to sit on your bed, peter staying where he is. “what time did you get back?” you wonder, a completely harmless question. “um, this morning,” he says in response, raising your suspicions. “why’re you still in the suit, then?” you squint at him. “i like it, by the way.” “thanks, y/n/n. i, uh,” peter trails off, no good explanations coming to mind.

you’re quickly developing a hunch for what what down. you wordlessly get up again, meeting peter by your window. he’s nervous to see what happens next. peter’s shoulders slump when your fingers land on his mask. you carefully lift it, revealing his face to you. his banged up, bloody face.

“surprise.” peter musters up a grin, you tossing the mask at his chest. you’re beyond angry now. it’s not at him, athough it is at his injuries. “please don’t be mad,” he nearly begs, you shaking your head. you go to leave your room for some space. peter’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. “i should’ve listened to you, okay? i’m sorry,” he genuinely apologizes.

you still don’t say anything while you look over his beaten body. there’s a gash with stitches in it on his chin, a deep slice across the bridge of his nose, cuts littering his cheeks. he’s even got a busted lip for good measure. this might be the worst condition he’s let you see him in.

“you were right, y/n. i think... i think i’m gonna sit the next one out. it’s too much for me, clearly,” peter continues, fingers sliding down to lock with yours. “you should say you told me so.” “how... how did this happen?” you manage to get out instead. “the bad guy fought me,” he says with the hint of a smirk. “i won, though.”

it’s a relief that he’s handling this so well, even earning a laugh from you. that puts you more at ease.

“this is probably a dumb question, but are you okay?” you brush your thumb over peter’s cheekbone gently, avoiding his scratches. “not really. my face hurts a lot, and flash is gonna tease the hell out of me on monday.” his lips form a line, arms looping around your waist. it’s very much welcomed by you.

“you just spent two weeks trying not to die, and you’re worried about flash?” you snicker and draw a heart on his skin. peter shrugs a shoulder. “he’s so mean to me.” he brings you in closer to him. “besides, this is the normal kid stuff i should be focusing on.” you’re glad he finally came to terms with that. you’ve been saying it for the longest time.

you smile wickedly at him. “exactly. so is all that homework you have to make up.” peter lets out a breathy laugh, you laying your head on his chest. “i missed you,” he tells you quietly. “really wish i could kiss you right now.” “i missed you too, pete. so much,” you murmur into him. your hands settle on his biceps. “and, i forgive you.” “thanks, baby,” peter exhales.

“of course. once your lips are healed,” you pull back from his chest, making a kissing noise. “pucker up, lover- oh my god.” you’re looking up at him with wild eyes. peter gets reasonably startled from it. “what? what’s wrong?” “you... you’re bleeding!” you point at his stitches. he winces, touching the spot. there’s blood, alright.

“crap. do you have a bandaid or something?” peter gives you an apologetic smile. “mr. stark said i should cover them when this happens.” maybe, tony isn’t so bad after all. you nod and take him by his hand. “yeah, in the bathroom. come with me.”

peter sits on the edge of your bathtub while you patch up his chin. he tells you more about the fun parts of his mission, you placing the cinderella bandaid over his gash. you have those from a while ago and also regular ones. however, he preferred the princess design.

“you saw the real mona lisa? like, in person? that’s insane.” you grin, smoothing down peter’s bandaid one last time. “yeah, she’s even prettier up close.” peter returns the smile. “thanks for taking care of me, y/n. i swear i don’t deserve you sometimes.” now pouting at him, you crouch down so you’re at his level. “it’s the other way around, peter.”

“let’s just agree to disagree,” he concludes and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “i love you, okay?” “i love you, too.” you press a light kiss to his bandaid, getting a giggle from peter.

yeah, it’s going to be hell finding replacements for his lips.

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jeonsjiddies · 3 years

Text

Headlights | pjm (m)

Summary- Jimin is a fuckboi, rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Everyone assumes he’s this way because he just wants to have fun. No one dares look deeper, no one sees the haunted look in his eyes, the emptiness and pain that reside in their deep brown depths. Until you.

🎶 Headlights by The Classic Crime - “Please don’t face the headlights of oncoming cars alone.” 🎶

Word Count- 14.7k 🥴

Pairing- Jimin x reader

Genre- smut

Warnings- oral (female recieving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex, nipple piercing? is that warning?, some depression-like symptoms/thoughts, a little self destructive behavior? Kind of.

a/n: Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! This is the longest fic I have ever written and it is my baby. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think! 💕

Walking up to the frat house was intimidating, and you slowed your stride enough for Hana to reach back and yank you with her into the party. You could feel the bass of the music rattling your bones and couldn’t hear Hana as she shouted over the music to you.

“I can’t believe you made me do this!” you hissed, twisting your body around just in time to narrowly miss a drunk football player bulldozing his way through the crowd.

“What?” she shouted back.

You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head, gripping her hand tightly and following her through the overcrowded living room to the barely quieter kitchen. You took the drink she handed you and nursed it slowly, since you liked a good buzz but still wanted a clear head.

You felt his gaze before you saw him; you could feel the shivers along the back of your neck.

You turned to seek out the cause, methodically searching the crowd. Your eyes met the most beautiful pair of brown ones you’d ever seen, the strobe lights from above causing them to almost glow brighter- but that was the only light in his gaze. His eyes looked… sad. Empty.

It seemed like everything else turned blurry, and you could only focus on him in perfect clarity, every feature defined and prominent; every move he made, your eyes followed. Everything else faded away, and you only saw him. Him and his beautiful eyes, full of longing and something you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t help but furrow your brow in concern. Your face showed your every emotion like an open book, and you opened your mouth to ask Hana who was staring at you before she squealed, gripping your arm.

“Park Jimin is totally checking you out!” she giggled, tugging on your sleeve excitedly.

“Park Jimin?” you questioned rhetorically.

“He’s famous on campus. He’s hot, rich, and a total freak in the sheets. Rumor has it his tongue can make you see stars. Every girl on campus is dying for a night with him.” she chattered.

“Oh geez.” You rolled your eyes.

“Seriously. The saying is: once you Jimin, you can’t Jim-out. He’s so good in bed, he’s had to get like three restraining orders against girls who can’t let go. They say once you sleep with him no one else will do.” she continued, waving her hands in the air dramatically.

“I’ll take your word for it.” you giggled, glancing over towards Jimin once again.

He was absolutely gorgeous, with perfectly styled light brown hair, soft, plump looking lips, a jawline that could cut someone. His white t-shirt showed off tattoos that danced down his arms, covering the delicate ivory skin beneath. His thighs alone deserved their own wing in an art gallery, beautifully encased in skin tight ripped jeans. You caught yourself staring, clearing your throat and averting your gaze, but something kept drawing you back to him.

He was surrounded by girls, all leaning forward to give him the best view of their cleavage, all doing their best to seduce him, but he looked bored. Lonely. Lost. He sighed and his eyes trailed back to you. He watched you for a moment, noting how you flushed and turned away looking flustered. A smirk played on his lips and he shoved himself off the wall, making his way over to you.

“Shit! He’s coming over here!” Hana whisper-shouted.

You braced yourself, waiting for him to call you out for staring, or yell at you. Your body seemed to be vibrating with nerves because you could feel him getting closer, like your body had a radar that searched him out. Warm breath ghosted over the back of your neck, right under your ear. You shivered.

“Hello, there princess.” he purred.

You spun around, startled, and came face-to-face with Jimin.

He was even more gorgeous up close. He smelled of alcohol and something minty. You couldn’t help basking in the lovely scent that filled your senses for a moment, before leveling your gaze to his. His body wasn’t even two inches from yours. If you leaned up on your toes, you’d be kissing him. You took a step behind you, your back hitting the island in the kitchen.

“Hello,” you greeted in return, willing the heat in your cheeks to look like it was from the humidity in the room and not Jimin’s proximity to you.

“I haven’t seen you around before, are you a Freshman?” he inquired, sending his charming smile your way and making your knees want to buckle.

“No, I just normally don’t come to parties,” you explained, tilting your head towards Hana. “Hana made me.”

“Why not?” he wondered aloud.

“Just… not my scene.” you shrugged.

Jimin watched your face, amusement apparent on his features. He seemed to be contemplating something. Apparently coming to his decision, his smile came back to grace his gorgeous face, but it didn’t reach his eyes, a detail you couldn’t miss even if you’d wanted to.

“Sounds like you need to have a little fun,” he smirked, stepping closer to you, his fingertips trailing along your hips and his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered his next sentence, “I could help you with that. My room is upstairs.”

“I… I, uh… no… no thank you,” you sputtered, placing your hand on his (deliciously firm) chest and gently urging him backwards to put space between your erratically beating heart and his warm, enticing body.

“What?” Jimin asked, genuinely confused.

“I’m not that kind of girl.” you said softly, trying to cushion the blow to his ego.

“You really don’t want to fuck me?” he asked, bewildered.

“Um… no thank you.” You coughed awkwardly.

Jimin stared at you for a moment, reading you. His eyes searched yours, looking for something. You didn’t know what, or if he found it, but when he looked away, he shrugged.

“Your loss.” he turned to the sound of someone calling his name and left you standing there, heart pounding out of your chest and legs weak.

You watched him walk away, plastering on that signature flirty smile that fooled everyone around him. You watched his animated dancing, life of the party, putting on a show. You watched his eyes search the crowd, like his soul was longing to find something, but you didn’t know what.

-♡-

A few weeks had gone by since your encounter with Jimin, and somehow he was everywhere. You saw him on your way to class, laughing with his friends by the fountain. You saw him at the coffee shop, exiting the building as you were about to enter. You saw him in the crowded hallways of your university, heard his infectious laugh bubbling from his chest and dancing through the air.

Even when Jimin wasn’t in your direct line of vision, even when you couldn’t hear the way his melodic voice carried through the air, he was everywhere. Every night since meeting him, you dreamt of sad, empty brown eyes attached to the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. Every other thought that flitted through your mind was about him. What was Jimin up to? Does he look happier today? Was it just that night? Where was he now?

Sitting in the lecture hall next to Hana, you couldn’t pay attention to what the professor was attempting to teach you, a heavy sigh falling from your lips as you doodled a familiar pair of plusher ones. Hana nudged your shoulder.

“What’s up with you lately? You’re like, lost in space or something.” she accused.

“Sorry, just got a lot on my mind,” you sighed, playing with the edges of your notebook distractedly.

“Wanna talk about it?” she wondered.

“How much do you know about Park Jimin?” you asked almost instantly, causing Hana to jump a bit.

“Oh honey…” she sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t go there. Park Jimin is a good fuck if you’re looking to let loose, but I wouldn’t get too invested. Fucking is about all he’s good at. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“Do you really think he’s not good for anything but that? I mean, he’s human.” you defended.

“That’s not what I meant, I just know how you are. Don't go crushing on him, he’ll break your heart Y/N. Park Jimin doesn’t do emotions. He does meaningless sex.” she explained.

“I guess…” you trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

“Seriously. Don’t go looking for trouble.” she warned.

“I won’t.” you promised.

“Good. Now, there’s a party this weekend. Are you coming?” she grinned.

A classmate in front of you coughed obnoxiously sending you a glare. You shot them an apologetic smile but lowered your voice. Hana didn’t lower her volume at all though.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” you shrugged.

“Come onnnn. Live a little!” she encouraged.

“If you two ladies have something to share with the class, I’d be more than happy to give you the podium. Otherwise, I’d appreciate it if you’d wait until after class to discuss whatever is so important,” the professor hummed, shooting a glare in your direction.

Immediately silencing yourself, you looked down at your notebook, where the drawing of Jimin’s plush lips stared at you. You stared back, recalling the last time you’d seen him, and how your heart had pounded in your chest violently enough that you thought it was going to come out.

You decided you needed to see him again, which is how you found yourself completely out of place once again at another frat party. Drunk and stoned college kids stumbled around, grinded on each other, made out in corners, and caused all kinds of trouble all around you as you tried to be inconspicuous in your search for Jimin.

“Do you want a drink?” you asked Hana and she nodded, so you ventured into the kitchen to retrieve something for the two of you.

Once you returned, you couldn’t find her anywhere. She had a tendency of wandering off with the first hot guy she set her sights on, but you decided to look for her anyway. You wove between bodies, checking around corners and searching all the obvious places. When you came up empty handed you ventured out the back door, only to notice none other than Park Jimin sitting on the porch swing alone, smoking.

Previous task abandoned, you walked up to him and sat beside him; his eyes lazily trailed up and down your figure as he assessed you, his plump lips turning up into a smirk.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again. Change your mind about my offer?” he smiled seductively.

“No.” you shrugged, offering him the extra cup in your hand, which he took while watching you carefully.

“Seriously? Am I not your type or something? You think I’m ugly?” he wondered, feigning distress.

“That’s not it at all!” you gasped out with a little too much conviction.

“So you find me attractive?” he verified, scooting closer.

“Well, yes,” you admitted, cheeks blazing while you avoided his intense gaze.

“So you do want to fuck me.” He grinned.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Why?” he questioned, letting his fingertips dance along the edge of your shorts.

“Like I said. I’m not that kind of girl. I think sex should be meaningful,” you shrugged, though your body betrayed you with the goosebumps rising at his touch.

“Ah, so you’re one of those hopeless romantics,” he laughed.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you giggled. “I’m not waiting for a knight in shining armour. I just want it to mean something.”

Jimin focused his gaze on your face, watching you carefully as you fiddled with a stray thread on your blouse. He knew your body reacted to him, he could see the way you shivered, feel the goosebumps on your skin. He didn’t understand why you weren’t jumping at the opportunity to fall into bed with him like everyone else. You were an enigma to him.

You finally met his gaze, curiosity getting the better of you. You had to know if his eyes still held the same look as before, or if it was a one-time thing. You could still see the loneliness, masked by his overconfident demeanor.

“What’s your major?” you asked, changing the subject out of the blue.

“What? Oh, um… dance, actually.” he said, averting his gaze.

“How long have you been dancing?” you wondered.

“Since I was little. Why are you asking this?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Just wondering. I don’t know anything about you,” you easily replied.

“What’s yours?” he countered.

“Creative writing.”

“That’s cool.” he sent you a tentative smile.

“Thanks. So is dancing. I can’t dance to save my life,” you giggled.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” he argued, a smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, you haven’t seen bad,” you laughed.

After taking a moment to wonder why you were even outside talking to him and what you could possibly want from him, he pushed his suspicion aside..Jimin rolled his eyes with a smile and stood up, extending his hand out to you. You sent him a questioning look and he just shook his hand until you grabbed it, and he pulled you to your feet. He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone, playing a song you hadn’t heard before, but enjoyed nonetheless. It was slow and simple, but still pretty upbeat.

“We’ll try something simple so I can see where you’re at, ok?” Jimin grinned at you, spacing his feet apart and watching your face.

“You’re going to make me dance?” you gasped.

“I’m going to teach you some easy moves. Everyone should know at least one dance move,” he laughed.

“If you watch me fall on my face I can never look you in the eye again,” you grumbled.

“Oh hush. Okay, start with your feet shoulder width apart for balance.” he instructed.

You mimicked his stature, placing your feet shoulder width apart and following his movements that he did slowly so you could catch on. You could tell he was graceful and knew how to move his body, even when he was slowing down and exaggerating his movements so you could keep up. Jimin’s movements were fluid and calculated, each new step had precision but flowed into the next seamlessly. He was made to dance, you decided. And somehow, you didn’t fall under his instruction. He was patient and understanding when you’d mess up, showing you again and praising you when you got it right.

He seemed to be having fun, his laughter filled you with giddiness and his smile seemed genuine, his eyes scrunched up into little crescent moons and his beautiful pearly teeth on display, his hands wrapped around his stomach as he leaned over in another fit of laughter. You giggled along with him, albeit at your own expense, but you loved seeing this side of Jimin, he seemed… happy, carefree. This was the way Jimin was meant to be.

When you messed up again, Jimin laughed, coming over to you and grabbing your hands, showing you how to move your body to the music by leading you with his own. Your back was pressed against his firm chest as he guided you, his hips flush against yours, causing a blush to creep up your neck. Jimin must have noticed the position he’d put you in, but it didn’t stop him. He only pressed closer, whispering in your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, babygirl,” he purred, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You shivered, attempting to turn and pull out of his hold to scold him, but you were interrupted by a loud male voice coming from inside the house.

“Yo Park where the hell have you been? We need help in beer pong! Oh-” a tall man you recognized as Hoseok froze at the sight.

Jimin cleared his throat and stepped away from you. Hana peered around Hoseok from behind him, curious to what was going on. Her eyes widened when she saw you, and she gave you a look of disappointment, knowing you hadn’t listened to her warning. You looked away, avoiding her gaze as Jimin breezed past you to follow Hoseok inside. Hana watched you for a moment before following them inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

-♡-

It had been a few days since your dancing lesson with Jimin, and seeing him in such a comfortable, happy state hadn’t really done much to take him off your mind, especially not after seeing his eyes glaze over and the mask slip right back on as soon as Hoseok called his name. How he’d breezed past you like you didn’t exist after what felt like a special moment shared between the two of you.

Maybe Hana was right… maybe all he wanted was sex. Your anxiety was telling you he was playing with your emotions, but you knew better. You saw something in Jimin, something no one else seemed to notice. The small amount of time you’d spent with him when he had let his guard down had given you the opportunity to see what potential he had.

Jimin didn’t have to be tough and closed off. He could be fun and open and sweet. He could be thoughtful and patient and encouraging. He could be silly and smart and dedicated. He was talented and hard working. You’d spent maybe an hour alone with Jimin at the party that night, and in that small frame of time, you’d seen a glimpse of the real him shine through that facade he put on for everyone else.

You wanted to see it again.

You took’d taken a trip into the city to do some sight seeing and clear your restless mind, having been driven crazy going in circles. It had taken longer than you’d anticipated, so you’d opted to take a taxi home with the sun having gone down a while ago and the stars making their appearance. You watched the cityscape fly by, lost in your own little world. The closer you got to campus, the more you paid attention, knowing the bridge that overlooked the beautiful skyline would be coming soon.

You watched the water below ripple gently, small waves dancing across the surface of the river underneath the bridge. It was beautiful, reflections of the city lights shining and shimmering in the water. You glanced up at the other end of the bridge and saw a figure standing there, alone. It kind of looked like…

“Sir, stop the car. Pull over please!” you begged the driver.

He shot you a curious look but pulled to the side of the road. You handed him your fare and dashed away from the car towards the figure. Once you realized he wasn’t going to jump or do anything stupid, you slowed your stride, watching him as you quietly made your way over to him. Jimin was lost in thought and didn’t notice you approaching him. He watched the waves longingly, as if he wished he were floating away in them, part of the nothingness. Like he wanted to disappear into the water and drift away into the sea.

The look in his eyes as he gazed out into the unknown was haunted, and it tore at your heart to see him look so empty. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, and if that’s true, Jimin’s soul seemed broken. You wanted to know why. He had it all. He had money, good looks, friends, girls, what could possibly be missing? Why did he look so dejected?

You gently placed your hand on his shoulder and he jumped slightly upon realizing he wasn’t alone, turning to face you. His gaze met yours in silence, he watched your face for a moment, then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I was riding by and saw you, I wanted to make sure you were okay. What are you doing up here all alone?” you wondered.

Jimin turned to face you fully now, looking down at you with a hard expression.

“Why do you care?” he asked, bunching his fists at his side. “What do you want from me Y/N? Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Jimin. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I want to be your friend,” you explained softly, reaching out to touch his arm, which he yanked away.

“You want to be my friend?” he laughed bitterly. “Why? So I can buy you stuff? You want my money? Here,” he took out his wallet, holding out several bills for you to take.

You were shocked, stepping back a little, but looking up to meet Jimin’s gaze. He looked resigned, angry. You looked at his outstretched hand, holding the money out to you and sighed. You reached for his hand, and he thought you’d take the bills, but you only eased his hand back down to his side.

“I don’t want your money,” you told him, trying to keep your voice from sounding as offended as you felt. “I just like spending time with you.”

“Why? What is your angle here? Just take what you want and go, like everyone else does. Everyone uses each other, I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of me, but just take it and go. Stop acting like you care about me,” he hissed.

You watched him for a moment, chest heaving as he took deep breaths, looking angry and closed off and… scared. He looked scared. He said everyone uses each other, did he really not have anyone in his life who genuinely just wanted him to be happy?

“I do care about you, Jimin. I don’t want anything from you but friendship,” you said softly.

“Right,” he laughed, “like I believe that. No one just wants to be friends. They want something. Sex. Money. Status. Then they leave, everyone leaves eventually so why bother getting attached and pretending to care?”

“That sounds really lonely, Jimin,” you trailed off quietly.

Jimin’s expression was one of shock. He was expecting some sort of reaction out of you, anger, defiance, maybe admitting you were just after his money. He expected you to try to trick him, to yell at him, to tell him he was an asshole and you never wanted to see him again. Jimin was not expecting you to see straight through him, to see how lonely he was, how much he craved connection.

You terrified Jimin. He’d been drawn to you from when he first laid eyes on you, admittedly it was a sexual attraction at first. When you’d refused him, though, he was intrigued. He’d watched you around campus, how you never sought out to be the center of attention, how you didn’t go looking for drama or clout. Then you showed up on that porch swing at the party, looking into his eyes like you really saw him.

Jimin hadn’t felt so at ease so quickly with anyone in his life like he did with you. He felt like he could be himself, like he could let his guard down. He had fun, really enjoyed himself for the first time in what felt like forever with you. He wasn’t putting on a show. He wasn’t giving the people what he thought they wanted to see from him. He was just spending time with a beautiful girl who made him feel like he was enough.

And that was terrifying.

Jimin couldn’t afford to get attached again. He’d had his heart ripped out and stomped on so many times he’d honestly thought he didn’t have one anymore. Until he watched the way your eyes lit up when you giggled at one of his silly dance moves. Until he felt the giddiness rising in his chest when you smiled especially for him. Jimin almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to feel so carefree, and he missed it so much. He longed to be free and let go.

You made him feel like he could, and that scared Jimin shitless. He’d spent so long building up this wall to protect himself, so long wearing this mask of indifference to shield his weary and battered heart from another letdown. Another person pretending to care. Another “friend” using him to get something. Another betrayal. But you… you felt so genuine. You were light and happy and kind and you made him feel like he could breathe again. He barely knew you, and already you’d wormed your way into his heart enough to make him feel like things could be different. It scared Jimin just how badly he craved that, the connection, to feel something again.

“I… I guess,” he finally admitted, his shoulders slumping from the confession.

He looked like he was deflating, the tension falling off his body once he finally let it out that yes, he was so lonely. He watched your reaction, embarrassed that you’d seen this side of him. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of anyone, didn’t want to give them the chance to use him again. But you just smiled sympathetically. You didn’t push or pry.

Instead, you pivoted. “Are you hungry? I kind of want some ramen. Come with me to the store?” you offered.

Jimin eyed you warily, but nodded, falling in step beside you as you walked along the bridge, the only sounds you could hear were the soft rippling of the waves below and the sounds of the cars rushing past. Jimin was quiet beside you, looking like he was lost in thought. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was stepping, and tripped over a loose brick on the sidewalk.

You saw the headlights of the oncoming car nearing closer as Jimin tumbled into the road, your heart beating out of your chest in bone-chilling fear. You jumped into the street and grabbed Jimin’s hand. You jumped back and yanked him onto the sidewalk mere fractions of a second before the car zoomed past where your bodies had just been, horn blaring obnoxiously. Jimin’s body crashed into yours, sending you off balance and splaying against the sidewalk.

You groaned at his weight being flung on top of you when you crashed into the hard cement sidewalk. Jimin propped himself up on his arms, body still flush against yours as he searched your face, eyes wide.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve been killed!” he scolded, eyes roaming over your face and arms for any injuries.

“So could you! I couldn’t just sit back and watch you get run over!” you defended.

“So you risked your life for someone you barely know?!” he hissed, with no real bite to his words.

Worry and guilt were swimming in his gaze as it met yours. You softened, reaching up to caress his hair gently in an attempt to soothe him and get him to focus on you and your next words.

“Hey, we’re both fine. Everything’s okay,” you smiled.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said more to himself than you, “What even are you?”

“Still hungry,” you giggled playfully, trying to ease the tension surrounding the two of you.

Jimin rolled his eyes but finally, a smile graced his pretty lips. You both seemed to notice your positions at the same time, your cheeks lighting up and the tips of his ears turning red. He scrambled off of you, holding out a hand to pull you to your feet. You both avoided eye contact and he let out an awkward cough, scratching the back of his neck.

“Let’s go get ramen then,” he smiled shyly, motioning for you to go ahead of him.

You walked together in silence, Jimin being much more careful about where he was stepping while you made your way to the convenience store at the edge of the university. Entering and nodding to the cashier on duty, you both made your way over to the ramen. You reached out to grab a bowl, and a gasp left Jimin’s lips.

“You’re bleeding!” he grabbed your arm, examining the scrape on your elbow.

“Oh, whoops,” you shrugged.

Jimin went to the cashier and requested the first aid kit, then guided you to a seat and gently took your arm, cleaning the cut with an antiseptic wipe. You hissed at the burn, and he apologized, leaning down to blow air on the wound. You watched in awe at the way his lips looked, plump and soft and delicious. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, soothing the burn from the antiseptic wipe. Jimin smiled up at you.

“Better?” he asked.

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded. He took the bandage and placed it over your wound, smoothing it out with a gentle brush of his fingers.

“There. All better. Let's eat!” he chirped, pushing off his knees to stand.

You both picked out some ramen and drinks, using the water dispenser to add hot water to the dry noodles. Jimin reached for his wallet to pay for you both reflexively. You didn’t put yours on the counter and he looked at you in confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Uhhh… waiting my turn?”

“What do you mean? It’s our turn.”

“It’s your turn. I’ll pay for mine when you’re done,” you shrugged.

Jimin looked shocked and confused, and the cashier looked impatient. You nodded towards the counter and Jimin paid, watching you curiously as you completed your transaction with a smile on your face and thanked the cashier. Jimin held the door for you and you both walked to a nearby park, sitting on the bench to eat.

You ate and talked and joked and laughed. You both just enjoyed being in each other’s presence, able to let loose and not feel judged. You watched Jimin’s eyes begin to shine for the first time since you’d met him, and your heart swelled with joy. You’d finished eating long ago but neither of you wanted to leave, so you stood up.

“I’ve been practicing, you know.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Practicing?” he echoed.

“Dancing. I’ve been practicing what you showed me. Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve gotten pretty decent,” you grinned playfully.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Jimin smirked, leaning back into the bench with his hands folded behind his head, his shirt riding up and displaying his mouth-watering abs, along with the small trail of hair that dipped down underneath his waistband.

You stood with your feet shoulder width apart, just like Jimin had taught you, and started shaking your hips like you’d seen him do that night at the party, giving your best impression of his dance routine for the first minute or two. Then, you grinned at him as he opened his mouth to praise you, before you started doing the chicken dance.

Jimin’s laughter rang through the air and he started dancing with you, both of you making fools of yourselves, your only audience each other and the moon that shone brightly in the sky, illuminating Jimin’s face, highlighting his ethereal beauty. The two of you danced and laughed for a while, before falling onto the bench in a fit of giggles.

Finally deciding it was time to go, Jimin insisted on walking you home, saying it wasn’t safe for you to be alone that late at night. You agreed, not because you weren’t capable of keeping yourself safe, but simply to stay with him for a little longer. You tossed your food containers in the trash as you left the park. His hand brushed against yours a few times as you walked, talking animatedly about anything and everything, and you figured it was just an accident soyou didn’t think too much of it.

Disappointment washed over you as you walked up to your dorm building and you sighed, scuffing the ground with your foot in an attempt to stall. Jimin made no move to leave either, both of you waiting in silence for the other to say something. Suddenly, you felt warmth surround your frame as Jimin wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had in a really long time,” he whispered into your ear, almost like a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear, though you were alone.

“Me too, Jimin. Thank you for coming with me, and walking me home,” you smiled, returning his hug and placing your head on his shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long hugs between stranger-friends were supposed to last, but you weren’t going to pull away first, not when you felt so warm, so safe, so comfortable. Your heart was racing but your whole body went pliant at his touch, any tension you’d been holding melting away as you melted into him.

Jimin pulled away first, leaving a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning around and walking off, shouting “goodnight Y/N!” over his shoulder as he left. You missed the way the tips of his ears turned pink, and he missed how your whole face turned red. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you crawled into bed that night, your dreams filled with bright brown eyes shining in the moonlight, and a little bit of hope.

-♡-

After the night on the bridge, you and Jimin began hanging out. He’d wait for you outside the lecture hall and walk you home some days. Others, you’d show up with his favorite coffee and snack in hand before his (regrettably chosen) 8am class. Jimin was different around you, lighter.

Because he was Jimin, people noticed. Eyes trailed after the two of you everywhere you went, whether you were together or not. Rumors spread, saying that you were using him to gain recognition, saying that he’d knocked you up and been forced to date you, saying that you’d blackmailed him or something. Neither of you paid attention to the prying eyes that seemed to dissect your every move, you were too caught up in each other.

You made Jimin feel like a better person, and Jimin made you feel safe and giddy. But there was no denying the massive crush you’d formed on the poor guy. You did your best to hide it, trying not to make him uncomfortable. You’d told him all you wanted was friendship, you weren’t about to make a liar out of yourself and get rejected, losing your new friend over something so silly as your unyielding yearning for him.

You really tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long when he walked unaware beside you, humming the newest song he was practicing for dance class. You tried not to let your touches last longer than socially acceptable for friends, despite the way your entire body seemed to light up with electricity every time his skin met yours. You tried not to stare longingly at his lips as he told you a story about his childhood or a class he’d taken the day before.

You tried not to fall in love with him.

You tried not to fall in love with the way his eyes formed crescent moons when he smiled, his real smile. The one he used in your presence, not the one he plastered on for the rest of the world to see. You tried not to fall in love with the sound of his voice calling your name, or the way he’d mindlessly sing quietly to himself while doing mundane tasks. You tried not to fall in love with the way he’d already be looking at you when you glanced up to check on him, with the way he’d shoot you a goofy face.

You tried not to fall in love with the way he held you close, the way every hug was just a little too long, the way he’d hold open doors for you or fix your collar, or the way he seemed to be able to make you forget about the rest of the world. You tried not to fall in love with how strong he was, both physically and emotionally, how he’d let you in and trusted you.

But Jimin was a force of nature, somehow terrifying and comforting at the same time. He showed your heart no mercy, consistently proving himself to you over and over and making you fall harder and harder. How were you not supposed to fall head over heels for Jimin? A few weeks into your friendship and you were ready to throw caution to the wind and marry the man. Or maybe you were a little dramatic, but still. You felt so deeply for him you almost couldn’t stomach it.

Jimin seemed to bounce as he walked in front of you, using his ridiculous amount of coordination to walk backwards so he could face you as he spoke. You giggled at his behavior, keeping an eye out to make sure he didn’t run into anything or anyone. He wove around the crowd gracefully, looking back every so often, but you still watched out for him. Just in case.

“So then the professor woke the kid up by slamming a book on his desk, I kinda felt bad for him, to be honest. But it was really funny. The kid wasn’t too bothered by it, he laughed with everyone else, and apologized for falling asleep. I don’t blame him though. I nearly lost it when he went into the section on Pavlov,” Jimin recounted, rolling his eyes.

“Poor guy!” you laughed.

“I know, so embarrassing.” he cringed.

“Yo, Jimin!” came from somewhere in the crowd, and Jimin’s easygoing expression immediately morphed into a hardened one.

You turned to see Hoseok and Hana jogging to catch up with the two of you. Ever since they’d started dating, you’d seen Hana less and less. You didn’t mind much, as your time was mostly filled with Jimin. Hana’s hair had gotten longer and she’d dyed it a light shade of pink. It suited her.

“Hey Hana, I like your new hair,” you smiled.

“Thanks, girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!” she grabbed you, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned, shooting an uncomfortable look towards Jimin.

His attention was on Hoseok though. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and you didn’t like it when Jimin’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. It looked unnatural, wrong. Happiness belonged on Jimin. Hoseok was sweet, he was funny and lively and courteous, you had nothing against him. But you wished he would leave so Jimin would go back to normal. Unguarded.

“Jimin, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days man. I really need your help. Are you busy? The girls can grab coffee or something and we can swing by the shop?” Hoseok begged.

“Ooh that sounds so fun! We haven’t hung out in forever! Please, Y/N?” Hana begged, pulling on your shirt sleeve.

You shot a look over to Jimin, gauging his feelings on the situation, but you couldn’t read him. His face was stoic and you couldn’t see his eyes. He shrugged, following Hoseok across the street. Hana pulled on your arm, directing you to a nearby coffee shop and grabbing a table in the corner by the window.

“You still like the hot chocolate here the best?” Hana asked, standing up to order.

You moved to follow but she waved you off, placing your order for you and handing it over once it was ready.

“Thank you.” you smiled, “How much was it? I’ll venmo you.”

“Don’t worry it was only like two bucks,” Hana shrugged. “Hobi’s been paying for everything lately, hasn’t asked me to chip in a dime! So I’ve saved up a bit.”

“Oh wow,” you laughed.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Do you remember when we used to come here like every day to do our homework and people watch?” Hana giggled.

“Yeah, it seems so long ago.” you agreed, grinning at the memory.

“Ugh, I still had that poofy curly hairdo and you wore those high school musical shirts all the time? When was that, like 8th grade?” she cringed.

“Freshman year of high school, I think. We met in high school.” you laughed. “Why did your mom let you leave the house like that?”

“Girl I don’t know!” she groaned, “why did yours?”

“I guess she wanted me to express myself,” you shrugged with a giggle.

“Express yourself right out of any chance to be popular,” Hana remarked sarcastically, throwing in a playful smirk.

“Hey, I don’t need to be popular. I just need a few good people around me,” you shrugged.

“Hmmm… So, how’s Jimin?” she asked, glancing away and not meeting your eyes.

“He’s good. We were just on our way back to my dorm to watch a movie when we ran into you guys,” you explained.

“A little netflix and chill?” she laughed, but her eyes zeroed in on you.

“No,” you shook your head, “just a movie.”

Hana sighed, placing her coffee on the table and looked you in the eyes.

“YN, I’m worried about you. Someone like you shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like Jimin. When I invited you to that party, I just wanted you to get out more, not start messing around with someone like him.” Hana explained, attempting to keep her voice soft.

“What do you mean ‘someone like him’?” you asked harshly.

“You’ve heard what people are saying right? They’re spreading rumors about you because you’re hanging out with him. He’s bad news, YN. He only sleeps with girls to get what he wants. I know you’re a hopeless romantic but I can guarantee he doesn’t love you, no matter what he’s telling you.” she sighed.

“You can’t be serious.” you laughed incredulously.

“YN, I’m just looking out for you. Jimin is-” she began but you stood and cut her off.

“Jimin is kind. Jimin is funny, smart, sweet and loyal. Jimin doesn’t talk shit about people behind their backs. Jimin doesn’t pretend to care just so he can cause trouble. Jimin doesn’t judge people based on rumors. You don’t know anything about him, Hana. You never cared enough to. No one has! You all think he’s some souless succubus who only uses sex to get what he wants, but you’re wrong. You don’t know him at all. Jimin is wonderful and I will hang out with him as much as I damn well want to because you know what? He makes me happy. So you and anyone else who has a problem with that can fuck off,” you seethed, slamming five dollars down on the table to pay her for your drink, not wanting to owe her anything, “Keep the change.”

You stomped away from the table, finally looking up from Hana’s speechless, shocked expression to find Jimin and Hoseok staring at you in mirroring astonishment. You froze for a split second, but in your rage, trudged forward, grabbing Jimin’s hand and pulling him towards the exit.

“Let’s go.” you grumbled, and he allowed you to pull him out of the exit and begin walking down the street, leaving Hoseok and Hana in stunned silence.

You didn’t let go of Jimin’s hand and he didn’t make a move to pull away as you walked silently to your dorm, your anger slowly going from a boiling rage to a simmer. You opened and shut the door with a little more force than necessary and flung the dvd cabinet open with a little too much emphasis. Jimin watched you curiously, letting you have your space and set up the movie before you crawled into your bed next to where he was waiting.

You laid your head on his shoulder, needing the extra comfort of having him close after your emotional meltdown at the coffee shop. You sighed, letting the tension roll out of your body that you’d stored up from the encounter. Jimin wrapped an arm around you, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked quietly, eyes still on the opening credits of the movie.

“No,” you pouted.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, gaze shifting to you.

You sighed and sat up, turning to face him and pausing the movie.

“How much did you hear?”

“Hoseok and I walked in right about where you asked Hana what she meant by someone like me,” he explained.

“Oh,” you flushed, looking away from him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Jimin sighed, turning your shoulders so you’d face him and you gazed up into his eyes as he focused on you.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know what people think about me. I don’t care about their opinion. I care about yours, and maybe Hoseok’s. Sometimes,” he explained with a chuckle.

“I guess…” you trailed off.

“Thank you,” he spoke suddenly, softly.

“For what?” you wondered.

“For sticking up for me. For believing in me. For having my back,” he told you, his eyes swimming in an emotion you couldn’t place.

“Of course. I meant everything I said. You’re an amazing person and if people would just take a second look and get to know you, look past the wall you put up, they’d think so too.”

Jimin pulled you into his arms, encompassing you in his warmth and comfort, seeming to hold you together when you felt like you were shaking into pieces from the intensity of how strongly you felt for him. You relaxed in his hold, allowing the warmth of his body against yours to soothe your nerves.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispered into your ear, barely audible.

“You’re my best friend too,” you whispered back, hugging him just a little tighter.

Jimin smiled against your neck where he’d rested his head, and you hoped he couldn’t feel how loudly your heart was beating from feeling his lips against your skin, though he probably didn’t mean to do that. You pulled apart and snuggled into the covers to watch the movie, finally completing the task you’d set out to do since mid-afternoon.

Once the credits rolled, you were tucked into Jimin’s arms, drifting in and out of consciousness. Jimin glanced at the clock and sighed.

“I don’t want to leave but it’s getting late,” he looked down at your face.

“Nooo.. don’t go. You’re so comfy,” you whined.

“Are you calling me fat?” he huffed playfully.

“Oh hush,” you giggled, but looked up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“Can you just… stay? Just for tonight? If you want to, that is…” you looked down at your hands.

“You’re not worried someone will see me leave in the morning and start more rumors?” he wondered.

“I don’t care if you don’t,” you shrugged, meeting his eyes once more.

“Scooch over then,” he grinned and you giggled triumphantly, scooting over to one side of the bed so Jimin could slot himself between you and the wall.

He wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling you against his chest and sighed contentedly. You snuggled just a little closer, mumbling something about the chilly air in the dorm, but really you just loved being close to Jimin. Butterflies swirled in your stomach, and you listened to Jimin’s breathing begin to even out as he fell asleep. You followed not long after. Wrapped in the safety and comfort of Jimin, you swore it was the best night's sleep you’d ever had.

-♡-

The second Jimin had exited your dorm that morning, there were about 50 pictures of the incident flooding social media, rumors flying rampant about your night spent together. Every other comment was about how you’d turned into a whore or Jimin was just playing with you or you had to have something on him. You ignored them all. People could think whatever they wanted, but you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.

On the contrary, waking up beside Jimin had felt so, so right. You’d somehow shifted in the night, both of you seeking out each other’s warmth and you’d woken up face-to-face, your noses almost touching. You’d opened your eyes to find Jimin opening his and you both smiled at each other, giggling nervously as you broke apart.

Jimin had gone home to freshen up, seeing as your impromptu sleepover left him without a change of clothes or a toothbrush. You hadn’t heard anything from him since he left, and you were starting to wonder if he regretted staying, if he felt uncomfortable now. Your nerves were eating you up and after your fight with Hana, you didn’t really know who you could talk to about it. You sighed, flipping through a textbook while being unable to concentrate on anything you were reading.

A few hours went by and you were starting to lose your mind from the lack of communication and the anxiety it caused. You picked up your phone to distract yourself with something when a text from Jimin came through. You sighed in relief, opening the message.

Jimin [5:54pm]: The guys at the frat house say I’ve been boring lately and I’m not allowed to skip tonight’s party. Come with me?

Did he mean come with him as in… be his date? Surely not. Right? Your heart hammered in your chest. Sure, people had seen you and Jimin around together a lot, but it was another thing entirely to go to a party together. That was basically announcing that you were dating. Maybe he didn’t see it that way? Maybe he just wanted to bring his friend to the party?

You [5:59pm]: Sure. Meet you there?

Jimin [6:04pm]: Starts at 10. :)

You texted a little back and forth in the next few hours, then you got ready for the party andmade your way over to the frat house, wondering what kind of fresh hell this party would bring. Though, you couldn’t say all parties were bad. You had met Jimin at one of these. That had turned out to be the greatest thing you’d ever done.

You were filled with a sense of nostalgia walking up to the familiar front door and entering into the foyer, greeted with booming music and some cheering from the corner where someone was doing a keg upside down. You were startled by an arm wrapping around your shoulder, pulling you into a warm body.

“Y/N! Nice to see you again,” Hoseok grinned, leading you towards the kitchen.

“Hey Hoseok,” you smiled, a little confused.

“Jimin and I were about to play beer pong with Tae, we need a 4th player,” he grinned.

“Oh okay,” you smiled, walking with a little more confidence.

“Y/N!” Jimin grinned, walking over and wrapping you in a hug, “I’m glad you came. You’re on my team, ok?”

“Sounds good,” you grinned.

“Y/N, this is Taehyung, you’ve already met Hoseok. Tae, this is Y/N,” Jimin introduced.

“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung grinned a boxy smile, enthusiastically waving to you from his end of the island. “Sorry we’re about to kick your ass,” he added with an evil chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you giggled.

“Have you played before?” Jimin wondered.

“A few times, not at a big party like this but I’ve practiced,” you mimicked brushing off your shoulders and Jimin let out a hearty laugh.

“Alright, a seasoned pro!” Hoseok chimed in excitedly.

“Is Hana not here?” you asked quietly to Jimin.

“I haven’t seen her, no,” he shrugged.

“Did they break up?”

“I doubt it, but I don’t know.” he answered.

“Alright, ladies! Let's go!” Taehyung shouted enthusiastically.

Hoseok took the first shot, landing it perfectly in a cup on your side of the table, and Jimin took the first swig, downing the cup. Hoseok shot again, missing by a mile. Jimin laughed before tossing his ball across the table, expertly landing it in one of the opposing team’s. Hoseok pouted but drank anyway. Jimin tried again, landing another. You clapped and hooted for him. Jimin got three cups before he missed.

Taehyung got two cups, and you drank both before he grazed the edge of the third, but the ball didn’t go in. You started shooting and got two cups before someone jostled you on your third throw, causing you to miss the entire table. You shot a glare to the offending stranger, who apologized profusely. You sighed.

“Minho is clumsy but he’s sweet. Don’t be too hard on him. He might actually like it. Kinky bastard.” Jimin winked at you playfully.

You choked on your next breath, giggling at his words. Neither team scored anything for a while, too busy trash-talking each other and cracking jokes to concentrate on the game. Jimin’s full smile had yet to appear, but he did seem more relaxed in your presence, so you took it as a win. He wasn’t quite himself, putting on more of a show than usual, but you decided to let it go since he seemed like he was having a good time. Surprisingly, you were too.

Taehyung was sweet and funny. He was easy to talk to and super charming. Hoseok was a ball of sunshine and energy, and they both seemed to accept you as part of their little group with no effort at all. You were Jimin’s friend, and therefore you were their friend by association. You wondered if these were people Jimin could be honest with, they seemed really genuine, but you knew how guarded he was so you weren’t about to bring it up. They were fun to be around, and that was enough for now.

The night raged on, and your team ended up winning beer pong. You’d both gained a pleasant buzz from the game but Taehyung and Hoseok were absolutely trashed. Jimin explained that they might’ve pregamed a little too hard before the party, so the added beers from their crushing defeat sent them over the edge into utterly intoxicated. They were currently clutching onto each other and singing a very off key rendition of a song you didn’t even recognize.

“Hey, where’s the bathroom?” you asked.

“Just down that hall,” Jimin pointed, and you smiled at him before making your way there.

You quickly did your business and washed your hands, checking your appearance in the mirror and smiling to yourself about how well the night was going. Everything was perfect and after last night with Jimin, he seemed more… into you? Less platonic. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, you were hopeful that maybe Jimin felt the same way you did.

That was, until you walked out of the bathroom and saw him pushed up against the wall with some girl’s tongue down his throat.

You felt like the room was spinning. Your heart shattered and you found it difficult to get air into your lungs as you stood frozen in shock, eyes glued to the pair like a car wreck. You just couldn’t look away. It felt like years, but lasted only a second before Jimin’s eyes opened and he spotted you. He pushed the girl off of him, taking a step toward you, but you made a beeline for the door.

You weaved your way through the crowd as fast as you could, ignoring Taehyung who gleefully called out for you to join him in karaoke. You begged any entity that was listening to let you hold your tears in until there were no witnesses, focusing solely on getting your feet to move faster and holding your emotions at bay. You heard Jimin calling your name but you only moved faster, sprinting out of the open door and down the empty road.

How could you have been so stupid? Of course he didn’t like you. You were just the first person to show him, real, unconditional friendship. That’s all his affection was. Platonic. He didn’t want you. How could he? That girl looked like a supermodel. Of course she was more his type. How could you even think he would ever want someone like you? Because he spent one night with his arms wrapped around you and brought you to a party in front of his friends? Ugh.

“Y/N! Wait!” Jimin called, and you could hear his footsteps growing closer.

Damn him and his dancer’s stamina.

You wiped any stray tears from your eyes and did your best to plaster on a smile as you turned around to face him, you couldn’t outrun him. You might as well act normal and pretend everything was fine. Jimin slowed to a stop in front of you, panting a little.

“Where are you going?” he asked breathlessly.

“Oh, uh. I’m going home,” you grimaced as your voice cracked.

“Y/N, it wasn’t what it looked like,” Jimin began.

“Oh Jimin, it’s fine,” you brushed him off, using every bit of your willpower to make yourself seem believable. “You can do whatever or whoever you want. It’s not like I own you.”

“I saw the look on your face, Y/N, I-” Jimin tried but you shook your head.

“No it’s fine. I should’ve known you’d want to have some fun tonight. You’re not obligated to babysit me just because you invited me,” you cut him off.

“But I-” he tried again, scratching his arm in frustration.

“Go back to the party, that girl is probably waiting,” you smiled, moving to turn around.

“Would you just fucking listen to me?!” he shouted, making you freeze in your tracks.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his in shock, mouth hanging slightly ajar. Despite him being covered in tattoos and piercings, you’d never heard Jimin raise his voice or be threatening in any way. His sudden outburst caused your heart to flutter in your chest, both with astonishment and a little bit of arousal.

“She just came up and started talking to me, and she asked me to fuck, but I said no. She kissed me out of nowhere and I froze. As soon as I saw you I knew I fucked up. I pushed her off and told her to get lost. I don’t want her, Y/N. I don’t want any of them,” he nearly growled in frustration, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

Your heart stopped beating entirely.

“I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off. You said all you wanted was friendship and I didn’t want to push you away. You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who really sees me, the only one who really cares. You make me a better man. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Everyone leaves but I can’t lose you. Not you. I… I love you. I’m in love with you,” he sighed, taking a step closer and gauging your reaction.

“You… do?” you whispered, scared that if you spoke too loudly he’d vanish and you’d wake up from this dream.

“I love you,” he repeated, placing his hands on your shoulders and running them down your arms to interlock your fingers.

“I love you too,” you choked out, your tears running freely now. “Jimin I love you so much it hurts.”

Jimin lifted one hand to cup your cheek, his eyes full of love and adoration and contentment. His gaze flickered down to your lips then back up to your eyes. You nodded, just barely, and he leaned in. Finally, after months of daydreaming about this very moment, Jimin’s soft, plush lips pressed against your own. Time seemed to stop, and everything faded away but Jimin and the way he kissed you.

His kiss was gentle, but held so much passion. All the words he couldn’t say, or didn’t know how to, he flooded them all into the way he kissed you, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer as he worked his mouth against your own. Kissing Jimin felt like coming home, like the first breath of air after being caught in a current and forced underwater until your breaking point. It felt right.

Jimin’s tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth, allowing him entrance. His tongue explored your mouth, sliding along yours and it felt more like a loving caress than horny college kids making out. Deepening the kiss had lit something inside you and you pressed even closer to him, pouring all your love and longing into the actions between your lips.

Pulling away only when your lungs began screaming for air, Jimin rested his forehead against your own, his breaths coming out labored. His eyes searched yours and a slow smile spread across his reddened lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted breathlessly.

“Me too,” you giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the blush crept into your cheeks.

Jimin laughed and held you tight against him, rubbing soothing circles against your back. You both stayed like that, in the middle of the road, the only light being the stars and the moon, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that Jimin loved you. Jimin loved you! And he wanted you. And you were safe in his arms.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Jimin smiled, pulling back to look at your face.

You nodded, slipping your hand into his and walking beside him. Your whole chest felt like it was going to explode. You were elated. You were shocked and excited and so, so happy. You giggled to yourself, hiding your face with your free hand as Jimin walked you home.

“What’s so funny?” he chuckled.

“I can’t believe this is real, I’m so happy,” you admitted, biting your lip nervously and shooting a curious glance his way to watch his reaction.

Jimin smiled softly, pulling you closer to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Me too baby. Me too,” he said softly.

Jimin walked you home and you both crawled into your bed. Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and held you close. You felt like you were in heaven. You ran your fingers through Jimin’s hair, then trailed them down his arm, tracing his tattoos with the tips of your fingers. Jimin smiled, rubbing shapes and doodles into the skin of your back where your shirt had ridden up.

His gentle caresses were soothing, and after the ultra emotional day you’d had, you were pretty drained. You drifted in and out of consciousness, shifting closer to Jimin and he grinned, holding you against his frame and leaving gentle pecks on your neck, your ear, wherever he could reach. You giggled.

“I’m so glad you’re finally mine,” he whispered into the chilly air of your room.

“I’ve been yours, Jimin. From the moment I met you,” you admitted sheepishly.

“I might not have known it yet, but I was yours too,” he smiled, kissing your cheek. “Now go to sleep.”

So you did.

-♡-

About a week later, the rumors were still running rampant about you and Jimin after you’d both made it official on social media, and were now spotted sharing sweet kisses and tender touches in public rather than just being together. You’d received a fair amount of messages and evil looks, girls upset that you’d taken Jimin off the market and now his skills were “going to waste.” You’d just roll your eyes and hit the block button.

You had been wondering about those skills more and more recently. Once you and Jimin had started dating, he had seemingly become allergic to wearing shirts. Prancing around your dorm room with his toned body on display, delicious ink decorating the surface of his ivory skin… you were frequently having thoughts that weren’t exactly PG. But Jimin hadn’t brought up sexual activity, and neither had you.

You felt like you could cut the sexual tension with a knife some days, but didn’t want to push Jimin into anything, not when you knew that he’d used sex as a way to push people away in the past. You knew you were overthinking, and should probably just talk to him, but you were nervous. But oh goodness did you want him. You’d wanted him from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, and rejecting his proposition that first night had been harder than you’d thought.

Now it seemed like every time you looked at Jimin, it became harder to hold back. Knowing that he knew you loved him now, and that he loved you too gave you that level of comfort you needed to be able to finally take the plunge with him. You wanted him to plunge into you. All. Night. Long.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the dirty thoughts you were having just as Jimin climbed in bed beside you, snuggling up to your frame and pulling you against him. You smiled and ran your fingers over the tattoos on his arms, tracing the designs with the tips of your fingers as lightly as you could. Jimin liked that you were always touching him. Running your fingers through his hair, tracing his tattoos, or just resting your palm against his chest. It didn’t matter as long as you were touching him, he was content.

He shifted, laying on his back with one arm tucked behind his head, allowing you to rest your head on his chest and trace the tattoos that littered the skin there as well. Jimin closed his eyes and focused on the sound of your even breathing and the feeling of your fingers gently brushing against his skin. He shivered a time or two, and you snuggled closer, assuming he was cold. Unable to rid yourself of the lingering dampness between your thighs, you let your fingers gently graze across Jimin’s pierced nipple.

Jimin sucked in a breath and bit back a low moan, but you heard his chest rumble with the action. You bit your lip and mumbled a quiet, insincere apology. You traced the tattoos along his collar bone for a while before your fingers daringly dipped down, brushing the other exposed nipple, which had Jimin tensing below you and letting out a quiet whine.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” he accused, focusing his gaze on you.

“Noooo…” you trailed off, looking up at him with faux innocence.

“I’m trying really hard to be good right now, baby girl,” he breathed out, almost as if he was in pain.

“What if… I don’t want you to be?” you whispered seductively, letting your hand trail down his abdomen teasingly.

Jimin’s muscles clenched at the movement, and you noticed there was a sizable tent in his sweatpants. Your mouth watered at the sight. He was clearly working with some nice equipment. Jimin shifted so he could put his full attention on you, his eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure? I know you said you were waiting, are you really ready for this?” he asked, concern and a little bit of hope written all over his face.

“I’m sure. I love you, Jimin. I want you,” you smiled reassuringly, leaning in to place a kiss to his gorgeous, soft lips.

Jimin brought his hand up to cup your cheek, working those plush lips of his against your own. The two of you had made out before, but this felt different. You were filled with anticipation and need. You pressed yourself closer to him, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding gracefully along your bottom lip, which you immediately parted for him.

His deft muscle slipped inside your mouth, rolling against yours skillfully. His hand dropped from your cheek and snaked up your side, sneaking under your shirt and grazing along your stomach until he reached your breast, kneading it underneath your flimsy bralette. His thumb brushed against your nipple and your body jolted towards him, seeking more.

“Mmm… so responsive.” he whispered against your lips with a teasing smirk.

You furrowed your eyebrows, then let your nail scrape gently along his pierced nipple, tugging ever so gently on the metal ring. Jimin moaned into your mouth, his body arching towards yours. You smirked against his lips.

“So responsive.” you giggled.

Jimin chuckled, pulling back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, the light reflecting off the piercing there as well. His cocky look was gasoline on the fire of your arousal, and you made yourself busy by kissing down his exposed neck, leaving a trail of red and purple bruises in your wake. Jimin’s low moans were music to your ears. You wanted to elicit more of the beautiful sounds from the irresistible man who had become putty in your hands.

Urging him onto his back, you straddled his hips and ground your covered core down against his clothed erection for a little relief, causing Jimin to let out more delicious noises. You kissed down his chest, bringing his nipple piercing into your mouth and licking around the sensitive area before tugging it gently with your teeth, scraping the flesh just a bit in the process. Jimin’s hips bucked up into yours at the action.

Your fingers teasingly dipped below the elastic of his sweats, running back and forth along the edge while you worked your mouth against each nipple. Jimin’s hands found purchase on your hips, his nails digging in just a bit so he had something to ground himself while you teased him. Your hand slipped underneath his sweats, surprised to find he’d foregone boxers. Your fingers brushed against his rigid length, and he tensed, gripping your hips harder.

“Don’t tease,” he groaned, head lolling back as he tried to restrain himself.

You giggled, wrapping your hand around his length and slowly dragging it upwards, letting your thumb circle the tip. You used the precum that spilled out to lubricate your next journey down. Jimin groaned, finally losing patience and effortlessly flipped the two of you over until he was hovering above you. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face and began leaving pretty red marks all over your neck and the exposed portion of your chest.

He sat up momentarily, pinning you with a hungry gaze and fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Off,” he commanded.

You immediately complied, peeling the fabric off your body and tossing it away, revealing your lacy bralette. Jimin’s eyes roamed over your chest and he licked his lips before leaning down and letting his tongue draw a stripe over the thin fabric covering your nipple, already erect and sensitive. Soft whimpers escaped your lips. It felt good, but you needed more.

Jimin’s lips traveled farther down your body, leaving marks all over your skin. He licked and sucked and nibbled in places you never would’ve considered erogenous zones before, but honestly, maybe it was just because it was Jimin. His tongue danced along the hem of your shorts teasingly before he glanced up at you to make sure you were still okay. You nodded breathlessly.

Jimin peeled your shorts down to expose your black satin panties, and you wished you’d worn the lace ones but it could’ve been worse. He brought the little bow tie between his teeth, tugging and letting it snap back against your pelvis. You jumped a bit and Jimin chuckled, mumbling “so cute” under his breath before slipping your soaked panties down your legs and tossing them aside.

“Damn baby girl, you’re dripping,” he grinned triumphantly. “What got you all worked up like this?”

“Jimin,” you whined impatiently.

“That’s right baby, say my name,” he teased (although he wasn’t really joking), but didn’t waste much more time, lowering his face and licking a bold stripe along your folds to distract you while he snuck a finger closer to your entrance, letting your arousal aid him in entering you. His tongue drew some sort of lost language on your clit with expertise, and it was almost impossible for you to hold still with the amount of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your hips bucked up and Jimin moved a hand to splay along your lower stomach, holding you down onto the bed while he devoured your pussy, slowly adding a second and third finger to stretch you out. It burned for a moment before you got used to it, Jimin’s fingers gliding along your walls and hitting your g-spot repeatedly. Even for your first time together, he knew your body like the back of his hand.

You could already feel the coil deep inside you threaten to snap at Jimin’s ministrations. You were a moaning mess, babbling his name like it was the only word you knew. His plump lips wrapped around your throbbing bundle and he sucked- hard. You groaned, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you, your vision going spotty. Now you knew why they said he could make you see stars.

Your body fell lax against the mattress as you panted, before pushing yourself up on your elbows to see Jimin’s face lift from your core. He met your eyes and seductively licked your juices off his lips, closing his eyes and savoring the taste of you. Your mouth went dry at how erotic he looked, and he climbed up your body, pressing his lips to yours and allowing you to taste yourself.

Your mouths worked against each other, and you wound your fingers in his hair, tugging gently on his soft locks, causing him to let out a low whine.

“Do that again,” he begged against your lips, his voice deeper and a little hoarse, but needy.

You wound your fingers in his hair, gripping it tighter and tugging again. Jimin let out a strangled moan, grinding his rock hard member against your core. Your body shivered at the feeling of his clothed shaft pressing up against where you needed him the most.

“Jimin, please,” you sighed, bucking your hips up to meet his.

“Okay baby. Oh fuck. Please tell me I still have a spare condom,” he suddenly groaned, reaching over for his wallet on your nightstand.

You watched him curiously, your eyes lingering on the curve of his plump ass under his sweats. You licked your lips, wanting to bite into the flesh. You’d save that for another time. Jimin let out a triumphant noise and held the condom in the air like a first place medal. You giggled at your boyfriend and rolled your eyes with a smile.

Jimin slid his sweats off in one smooth motion, kicking them away and onto the floor somewhere before ripping the condom open with his teeth and rolling it onto his length. Jimin paused, peering at you from his place above you, a small smile curling onto his plush lips, his eyes alight with adoration.

“I love you,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I love you too,” you sighed happily.

“Are you ready?” he asked, squeezing your hand gently.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Jimin leaned down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss, and slowly slid his rigid length into your honeyed entrance. You gasped into his mouth at the welcome intrusion, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way. Even with the prep from his fingers, his cock stretching your walls burned just slightly. Jimin deepened the kiss in an attempt to distract you from the discomfort, slowly inching more of his length inside until he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours.

Jimin fit inside you perfectly, his thick cock filling you up like he was made for you. He pulled back to look at your face, and you shot him a reassuring smile. He brought your joined hands up to his lips, placing them gently on the back of your wrist, and once you nodded your approval, he slid out until just the bulbous tip was left inside, before sliding back in, setting a slow, torturing pace.

This wasn’t your first rodeo, though you were nowhere near as experienced as Jimin, but no one had ever felt this good inside you. No one had ever felt this right. Jimin reached places inside you that no man had before and you were already falling apart at the movement of his hips. Jimin was definitely a dancer, able to move his body precisely and with precision, angling his hips to hit that soft spot inside you with every thrust.

“Fuck babygirl, you look so beautiful like this,” he groaned into your ear, his hot breath coming out in short puffs from the physical exertion.

“Ngh. Jimin,” you whined, “Please. More.”

“Can you handle it?” he wondered, experimentally dragging his cock a little faster along your walls, continually hitting that sweet spot inside you.

“Yes, yes please. Need you,” you whimpered, bucking your hips up to meet his.

Jimin’s brow furrowed in concentration and his hips picked up speed, his sole purpose in that moment to give you the most blinding pleasure you’d ever experienced. His punishing pace had you wailing out his name in ecstasy, clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to ground yourself to something, lest you float away into oblivion from the fire building deep in your core.

“Come on baby, you look so pretty when you cum for me. Let go,” Jimin urged, his free hand slipping between your bodies to rub at your clit.

“Fuck… Jimin!” you cried out, and his teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck was the last thing you needed to send you careening over the edge into bliss for the second time that night.

Your breath coming in heavy pants, you were surprised when Jimin showed no signs of slowing down. Your walls continued to clench around his length in the aftermath of your orgasm, and Jimin let our low growls at the feeling of your pussy swallowing up his cock with each thrust. You whimpered, slightly sensitive from your two previous orgasms, but Jimin pistoning himself inside you still felt heavenly.

Jimin shifted, pulling your leg up over his shoulder, the new position allowing him to reach even deeper inside your core, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your skull at the sensation of his cock kissing your cervix. You were a whimpering mess, your moans now garbled gibberish, not making any sense. All you knew in that moment was Jimin and how good he made you feel.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive flesh, and you shivered. His thrusts were getting erratic as he chased his own high, but Jimin was desperate to make you cum again first. He pinched and rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, abusing the bundle in the best way, sending you closer to your high once again.

“Fuck, Jimin- I-” you groaned.

“Come on baby, give me one more,” Jimin encouraged, using all his strength to hold back his own impending orgasm as he slammed inside of you.

Your whole body seemed to seize as you came for the third time, this one more intense than the others, making you almost dizzy with euphoria. Your throat burned with the force of your screams, quickly turning raw with use. Jimin didn’t last much longer, your cunt clenching around his length sending him over the edge. His hips stilled as he spilled ropes of hot cum into the condom. You could feel the heat from the thin plastic layer and wished that you could feel his seed shooting into you, dripping from your hole.

Jimin collapsed next to you, panting. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he looked absolutely edible like this. His plump lips parted as heavy breaths escaped, he turned his head and his eyes met yours. You were both shaking from the intensity of your highs, and you let out a quiet giggle which made a smile bloom across Jimin’s lips. He let out a quiet chuckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed, turning his body back to face yours after tossing the used condom into the trash.

His arms wrapped around your torso, bringing your naked chests flush against each other as he peppered chaste kisses along your forehead, nose, and cheeks before catching your lips in a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered, clinging to his sweaty body like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away, and maybe he was.

“I love you more,” he grinned against the skin of your neck.

“Absolutely not. I love you more,” you pouted.

“Nuh uh,” he teased, fingers poking into your side, causing you to shriek and curl into him.

He laughed and kissed your forehead, relenting from his teasing and tickling. Your bodies spent, you drifted off to sleep together, safe in the comfort of each other’s arms.

-♡-

Months had flown by in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, it was May and you were graduating. They say time flies when you’re having fun, and they are right. Every moment spent with Jimin never seemed to last long enough. After the two of you started dating, Jimin had slowly begun opening up to other people. He learned to trust Hoseok and Taehyung, and your initial impression of them had been correct: they were people Jimin could count on.

Jimin did lose a few friends from the frat house when he stopped trying to play the part of the indifferent fuckboi, but he didn’t really count those people as losses. If they couldn’t accept the real him, they weren’t worth it. The two of you had branched out socially, and made new friends as well. Yoongi, the music major, who began working at the coffee shop you both frequented. He was stoic and unapproachable at first, but Jimin had commented on his band t shirt once and Yoongi’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, showing that he was actually super sweet and thoughtful once you got past his icy exterior.

Namjoon, the business major whom you’d met while browsing the shelves of your university library. You’d been having a hard time reaching the book you wanted, and Namjoon had assisted without you even asking for help, his much taller frame bringing the book down to your level. He’d told you he had read that book at least ten times and you would surely love it. The two of you hit it off and soon Jimin joined you, immediately connecting with Namjoon as well. He was smart, patient, and would make an amazing businessman, just from the way he could read people but never treated anyone any differently.

Seokjin, the culinary arts major who had gone around campus giving out free samples of his work, promoting his new youtube channel “Eat Jin.” One taste of his dasik and you were begging him for the recipe. Jin had lit up and began explaining exactly how to make it and invited you to an episode of Eat Jin.

Jungkook, who hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to do yet, had met Jimin at the gym. He was boxing in the practice room that Jimin had reserved to dance. He hadn’t noticed he’d gone over his time, and when Jimin politely entered the room, complimenting his form, he’d flushed and shot him the most adorable bunny smile. Jungkook apologized for running over his time and Jimin brushed it off, but Jungkook insisted on buying him coffee as an apology.

Slowly but surely, your friendship group grew, each new friend weaving their way into your hearts and teaching you something new. They got along with each other as well, as it turned out. You’d thrown a surprise party for Jimin’s birthday and invited them along, Namjoon and Jin became inseparable almost immediately, and Hoseok and Yoongi as well. Taehyung and Jungkook became a dynamic duo, consistently stirring up trouble wherever they went.

Hoseok and Hana hadn’t broken up, after all. Hana had even contacted you to get coffee, apologizing for judging Jimin unfairly and trying to get in between the two of you. She’d joined your little group of friends, which slowly became more like a second family . Jimin flourished, surrounded by people who loved and cared for him exactly as he was.

He didn’t have to pretend to be anything but himself, didn’t have to please anyone, play any parts. His smile reached ear to ear and his eyes shone with love and light and so much life. Thinking back to the way they’d been dull and lifeless when you first met him brought you to tears as you watched him throw his head back in laughter and wrap his arms around Jungkook, who returned the gesture with similar glee.

Jimin no longer seemed broken. The dead weight resting in his chest had been lifted, and he was free. It didn’t happen overnight, and beginning his relationship with you certainly hadn’t been a magic fix, but it had been a catalyst. You taught Jimin that there were people in this world who genuinely could care for him without expecting anything in return. You showed him that there was still good, and he could trust people. Then, slowly, he’d met more and more people who only validated the lessons you’d taught him.

The more people Jimin met who didn’t use him, the more the ice around his heart began to chip away, giving him the strength and the courage to save himself from the darkness that had plagued his heart and mind for so long. And now, you were all graduating, moving on to pursue your dreams and aspirations. It was the last party of your college career, and you’d all gathered because Jimin had announced he’d had something to say to everyone. You gazed up proudly at your boyfriend.

“Thank you all for being here to celebrate the last night of college!” he cheered, earning hoots and hollers from your friends.

“I know we all promised to keep in touch, but I just wanted to make sure that you all know how much I appreciate you being in my life. I love every single one of you, and I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing group of people to surround myself with. You all have lifted me up, encouraged me, and given me the strength to keep fighting when times got tough. They say that sometimes when you’re in a dark place, that you think you’ve been buried. But really, you’ve been planted. You just need a little bit of love and patience before you bloom. So thank you for giving me what I needed to bloom. All of you. Especially you, Y/N. You were the first person who really believed in me, and if it weren’t for you, I never would’ve let in any of these guys. I love you, baby. And I love all of you,” he grinned, “So here’s a toast to all of you, may your future be bright and your beer be full!”

Cheers erupted around you and you cheered along, all of you knocking back a sip of your drink to Jimin’s toast. He hopped down and wrapped an arm around you, kissing your cheek as your friends congratulated him on his speech and shared how happy they were to have met you both as well. Your heart felt like it couldn’t possibly get any fuller than it was in that moment, surrounded by people you loved.

You and Jimin had both grown so much since that first night at the party, you’d fought, you’d cried, you’d laughed, and you’d gotten stronger. You were so proud of him and how far he had come, and you felt peace settle over you knowing the fact that he’d never have to be alone again, and neither would you. No matter what you found on the road ahead, you’d be okay.

You had each other.

1K notes · View notes

euovennia · 3 years

Text

Decisions - C. C. Imagine

summary: in which carlisle faces the wrath of his former lover after abandoning her

pairing: fem!reader x carlisle

word count: 5,314 (can you tell i got carried away?)

request: could you maybe do one for carlisle where the reader and him have a massive argument like proper slamming doors shouting and he asks edward to help him (with the mind reading and that) with making up with the reader? i hope that makes sense hahah😂i’m in LOVE with your writing 🤩

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“Thank you for dinner tonight, Eugene. It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve been out like this so I appreciate it.” The woman spoke softly, the edges of her eyes crinkling slightly due to the smile that adorned her face. “It only feels like it’s been a while because it has been a while, Y/N.” The man teased as he looked down at the woman beside him. Her cheeks tinted a light pink color and it was at this moment she was thankful for the darkness of the night that enveloped the car the two were sat in. “Right. Look, I really am sorry about all of that. I was just,” She let out a sigh as she looked down at her hands, “I don’t really know actually.” She finished quietly. The man’s lips pressed into a thin line as his grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly. Letting out a small sigh he responded, “You were just heartbroken. It’s normal, especially after something like that.” He muttered, his tone noticeably more annoyed causing her to frown. “Yeah. I guess that’s what happens when you’re thrown to the side like trash.” She muttered, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the pessimistic thoughts that began to infiltrate her mind.

Pulling into her driveway and parking the car, the man rested a hand on her thigh as he looked over at her once more, “You’re not trash, Y/N. You didn’t deserve what he did to you. He made his choice to leave….Now you just have to make your choice to get back out there and take your life back.” She let out a small sigh as she rested one of her hands on top of the one that was on her thigh, “I know, but it’s still hard. I mean, some days I feel like I’m completely fine and that I can take on the world but other days…Other days I can’t help but feel like he dodged a bullet leaving the way he did. Who knows, maybe he saw something wrong with me that I can’t see and decided it was too much for him.” Hearing her dejected tone the man only frowned, “I won’t lie and say I know how you feel because I honestly don’t. What I do know is that you can’t let his choices dictate your life. He made his decision and it’s about time you made yours. I just want what’s best for you, everyone does.” The woman began to chew on her lip as she allowed the weight of the words from her friend to sink into her mind. “I guess that’s fair. Maybe I have been sulking around a bit longer than I should be.” “It’s been five months, Y/N. I think you’ve done more than enough sulking for the year.” She nodded silently before pulling her hand away from his and tugging her purse up to rest on her lap. “I’m pretty tired so I think I’m gonna head to bed now. Thank you again for dragging me out of the house tonight, Gene. I really did enjoy everything. Maybe we can do it again sometime soon,” She suggested, a small burst of confidence bubbling in her chest. Eugene’s face lit up with a smile as he nodded eagerly, “Definitely. Just let me know when you want to go. I’ll be waiting.” She smiled as she leaned over the console to give him a brief hug before pulling away and promptly exiting the car. She closed the door and gave the man a small wave before making her way into her small house. She dropped her belongings at the door and kicked her shoes off before dragging herself to her bedroom and throwing herself onto the bed as she immediately tugged a warm blanket over her body. She laid still for a moment as she stared blankly at the ceiling before rolling over and digging around in her bedside drawer before her hand came into contact with a familiar piece of paper. She hastily pulled it out and sat up as she began to unfold the paper and skim her eyes over the words that were elegantly written onto the paper. My love, I am writing this letter to you with a fearful mind and heavy heart as I am not quite sure how you will react. It is without a doubt that you are the one who has stolen my heart and who I will love and cherish unconditionally for the rest of my existence which only makes writing this even more painful. Even with this burden, I must carry on. It’s come to my, and the family’s attention, that our presence in Forks will only bring nothing but pain and suffering to both you and Bella. It is because of this that we must leave. Believe me when I say there is no other way. This is for your and Bella’s safety. My only regret is that I will not be able to hold you in my arms and gaze into your loving eyes one last time before we leave, but I know if I did I would only stay and I cannot do that to you or my family. I hope to meet with you again, my love. Yours forever, Carlisle “Yours forever.” She spoke, a bitter edge mixed in with her tone. She let out a scoff as she flicked the paper over the side of her bed, not bothering to check where it landed. She fell back onto her mattress as she once again began to stare aimlessly at the ceiling above. If only forever actually meant something.

Three Months Later

“Thank you for taking time out of your day and meeting with me, it truly means a lot,” Y/N spoke, a bright smile on her face as she shook hands with the mother who was holding tightly onto her child beside her. “Absolutely! You already know I’m more than happy to meet up with you at any time. Thank you for reaching out. I’ll make sure everything gets taken care of as soon as possible.” Y/N nodded as she looked down to the child who clung tightly to his mother’s side, “I’ll see you on Monday, kiddo. Have a great evening!” The child gave her a timid smile as he spoke up, “You too Ms. L/N!” The woman’s smile only widened before bidding the pair a goodbye. Hearing her classroom door close, she took a seat in her chair as she leaned forward to get a closer look at the classwork of her fourth-period class. Letting out a small sigh, she grabbed her blue pen and began her daily routine of monotonous grading. After what felt like an eternity, she heard her classroom door swing open causing her to look up from the stack of classwork that seemed to significantly lower in height since starting. “I figured you’d still be here. I got us some Chinese!” Eugene spoke as he held up the bag of takeout like a trophy in his hands. “Thank goodness. I really didn’t want to get home and have to cook. It’s been a long day.” The woman groaned as she pushed the stack of paperwork to the side as Eugene placed the styrofoam container into her hands. She quickly opened up the box and began to eat to her heart's content as she watched Eugene struggle with his chopsticks. “I’m not quite sure why you get those if you haven’t figured you how to use them after nearly two years. I think you should just give up.” She remarked before taking a bite of veggie roll dipped in duck sauce she’d expertly acquired with her own pair of chopsticks. Eugene let out a scoff as he turned to face her, “Well sorry I can’t be perfect at everything I do. Not my fault no one taught me how to use these things.” He muttered with a frown on his face. She let out a hearty laugh, “I’ve offered to teach you numerous times, you just refuse to let me help you out.” “I refuse because I’m a strong, independent man. I don’t need to rely on no woman.” She smirked, “If I didn’t know you were gay, I’d think you have some vendetta against women.” “Vendetta? Against women? Please, a woman could spit on me and I’d apologize for bothering her.” He scoffed. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she stared at him with a brow quirked up, “Good to know. Very good to know.” He rolled his eyes before throwing a packet of soy sauce at her, “Oh be quiet. You know you could never do that to me. You love me too much.” “Sadly. Now, hurry up and finish eating. I wanna get home already.” He shook his head as he closed the takeout container, “I’m actually not all that hungry tonight so we can go now.” The woman only nodded in response as the pair began to clean up and gather their belongings before heading out of the classroom and over to his car. --- Pulling into her driveway, he put the car into park as Eugene turned to look at the woman beside him. “I know we just ate dinner together, but you wanna grab something to eat tomorrow?” She pondered for a moment before nodding with a small smile, “Yeah we can. You know I love being with you.” “Everyone does, they just don’t want to admit it.” She rolled her eyes playfully before reaching over the console and giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Text me the details. I’ll see you later, Gene.” He quickly returned her affection as he nodded, “I will. Have a good evening, Y/N.” She gave him a smile before getting out of the car and closing the door behind her. She gave him a parting wave as she watched him pull out of her driveway and away from her house. With a content sigh, she walked up to her front door and twisted the knob, shock coming over her features as the door swung open with ease. I never leave the door unlocked. Feeling a sense of unease beginning to creep up on her, she tucked her keys between her knuckles as she slowly stepped into her house making sure to rake her eyes over every little detail in her home. With small and quiet movements, she set her bag on the ground as she silently shut the door behind her. She carefully crept into the house as she made sure to keep both her eyes and ears peeled for any suspicious sign of an intruder. Walking into her living room, she continued her slow and cautious movements before her eyes settled on her couch where a hauntingly familiar piece of fabric was strewn across the top. Gulping, she stalked closer to the couch and picked up the dark grey jacket. With shaking hands, she slowly began to unfold the jacket, her heart clenching as the familiar scent invaded her nostrils. Eyes widened and heart pounding, she whipped around to find him standing there in all his glory. “Carlisle.” She gasped out. She stared with a sense of horror and despair as she took in the sight of the man who stood only a few feet away from her. Her eyes raked over his tall, slightly muscularity and lean build that was dressed in a light blue collared button-up that was neatly tucked away beneath a sweater vest that was a shade darker than his button-up. It was paired with a pair of black jeans she had gotten him as a gift along with a pair of dress shoes that she had a feeling were new. She sucked in a sharp breath as she dared to bring her eyes up to his face that radiantly shone against the dim lighting in the living room, his golden eyes locked onto her figure that seemed frozen in place as the pair stared each other down. Neither one of them dared to break the silence as a tense feeling overcame the both of them, more specifically Y/N. Swallowing the last of her pride, she found the courage to speak first. “You’re here.” As if sensing her hesitance, Carlisle slowly nodded before gently speaking out, “Yes. There was a change in our living conditions.” Not quite knowing how to respond, the woman only nodded as she suddenly became all too aware of just how small the living room truly was. Taking in a small breath, Carlisle took a step toward her causing the woman to immediately take a step away from him. This reaction caused him to shrink back into himself as he felt a pang of hurt course through his body. I deserve that. Shaking off the rejection he opened his mouth, “Love-“ “Get out.” His eyes widened at her harsh tone as he took a moment to stare at her face. It didn’t take a genius to know that her expression was one of extreme anger and discomfort, but to know that the person who had once promised unconditional love and care for you aimed that deadly glare at you, it was disheartening, to say the least. “Y/N, I can explain-“ “Now you want to explain yourself? What, you think you can break into my house and expect everything to just be alright? Do you have any idea what you put me through just leaving like that? I spent months trying to convince myself that I still had a life worth living and you expect me to run back into your arms? I don’t think so, Carlisle.” She spits, a certain fire he had never seen burning into him as she glared at him. “I know I hurt you, but it was what the family needed. I’m sorry it came to it, but we had no other choice. I had no other choice.” She let out a scoff as she threw the jacket to the ground before walking up to him with fury in her eyes before stopping directly in front of him, “And you couldn’t tell me that in person? You had to leave a fucking note? Are you kidding me? You knew what I would think and you didn’t want to face that so you took the easy way out by tossing me to the side like trash-“ “You’re not trash-“ His sentence was once again cut short, not by her words this time, but by the sound of her hand smacking against his stone-cold cheek. Startled, Carlisle stumbled a bit as he looked to her with a look of shock and hurt visible on his face, “Did you just-“ “Yes. I slapped you Carlisle and if I’m being honest, I should do a hell of a lot more to you right now with the nerve you have showing your face around here after what you did.” He let out a sigh of annoyance as he took a step back from her, “I did it to protect you. You really think I would intentionally hurt you?” “If that was the case, you would’ve talked to me and not just left a lousy note!” She yelled. “I was protecting you, Y/N! I did what I thought was best at the time and I’m sorry if you can’t see that but I don’t regret what I did for even a second!” He yelled back as he felt himself feeding on her own anger and frustration. “If you don’t regret it then why the hell did you come crawling back here?! You should’ve just left another note on my bed and left me alone, God knows you’re great at doing that!” Carlisle let out a humorless laugh as he bit back, “What? So you can be alone with Eugene? God Y/N, if I knew how easily you could move on from me I would’ve just found some other woman to run off with!” “Don’t you dare try to blame this on me, Cullen. I wasn’t the one who decided to walk away from a perfectly good relationship-“ “Maybe it wasn’t a perfectly good relationship, Y/N! Maybe that’s why I left in the first place! Did you ever take a moment to think about how much of a pain you can be to deal with, especially as a human? How much it took to take care of you? You drive me absolutely insane and leaving you behind was probably one of the best decisions of my entire existence!” He roared out harshly. At his impassioned revelation, Y/N’s face quickly became void of all emotion as she straightened out her posture. He watched helplessly as she clenched and unclenched her jaw, a habit she did when she was trying not to lose control, especially during an argument. Feeling a pit grow in his stomach at the weight of his words, Carlisle’s face fell as he gulped. “Y/N, you know I didn’t mean-“ “I’m going to my room.” Carlisle looked up at her as his eyes slightly widened at her choice of words, “What?” “I said I’m going to my room and I won’t bother coming out until morning. If I come out and you’re still here, I won’t hesitate to call the cops and tell them about your breaking and entering stunt,” She spoke lifelessly. “Please don’t-“ “Goodnight Carlisle,” She spoke quietly before stalking off toward her bedroom. Carlisle watched her figure disappear behind the walls of her house, a sharp flinch interrupting his still frame as the walls shook from the force of her slamming her door. In all his time of knowing her, he knew she was a woman of her word and so with a heavy heart and a guilty conscience, he picked up his jacket before leaving her residence as he tried to get the sound of her heartbroken cries emitting from her room out of his head.

Next morning

Slowly stirring awake, Y/N reluctantly opened her eyes. Immediately being blinded by the light shining in from the window she regretted her decision as she screwed her eyes shut, rubbing away at her eyes with her hands as she tried to dull the stinging sensation. Once soothed, she opened her eyes once more. Furrowing her brows together, she sat up as she took a moment to sniff the air. Lips pressed into a thin line and annoyance already coursing through her veins, she shot up from her bed as she swung her door open and stormed over to the kitchen. “I told you I was going to call the cops if-Oh.“ Her sentence quickly faltered as she caught sight of Edward watching over the movements of Bella as she moved around the kitchen with a grace that Y/N could never quite master due to the fact that she was more than happy to live off of take-out than take the time out of her day to make a homemade meal for herself. “What are you doing here?” She got out, her voice suddenly feeling very small and hoarse. Edward turned to her, crinkling his nose slightly at the overwhelmingly large amount of thoughts that flooded through her head. Shoving away his own distaste for her mind at the moment, he spoke. “Carlisle said you’d call the cops if you saw him in here when you got up. You never said anything about seeing me or Bella,” At the mention of her name, Bella perked up as she turned to face the older woman with a shy smile and a small wave before turning back to the pancakes she was in the middle of making. Y/N let out a deep sigh as she rolled her eyes, “Damn him and his loopholes.” Edward gave a small smile toward the woman. While he had strong feelings about human involvement in the family’s rather odd lifestyle, it was obvious to anyone that he had grown a soft spot for the woman who had effortlessly stolen the heart of his adoptive father. While he looked to Carlisle as a father figure, it was Y/N who he saw as a mother figure. “Come on, Bella already fixed you a plate. Why don’t we sit down and talk for a bit?” By the time the words had left his mouth, he was already dragging her to the couch in the living room shoving the plate of food into her hands as he sat on the couch opposite to her. “Yes, make yourself at home.” She muttered sarcastically before stabbing her fork into a sausage and shoving it into her mouth. “Y/N-“ He started. “Why are you here, Edward?” She asked once she had finished chewing. "Alive had a vision of what happened. I just wanted to check in on you." She let out a bitter laugh as she looked up at him, "Well I'm doing just fine, Edward. Feel free to leave. Bella can stay though, these pancakes are heavenly," The woman remarked as she stabbed a fluffy pancake with her fork. "You're still in your clothes from last night and your eyes are red and puffy. Believe me when I say you look horrible." He observed. "Well your eye bags are becoming more prominent, but you don't see me rubbing that in your face now do you?" She remarked, patience slowly beginning to wear thin. "Well, I can't exactly sleep it off. I'm literally dead." "Excuses, excuses." She waved off. Edward let out a small sigh of frustration as she continued to brush off his efforts. It was no surprise she was upset with Carlisle especially after some of the things he had said, but the disregard she had for her own feelings was annoyingly frustrating, especially when he could see right through her act just by digging into her thought. While it could very well be seen as an invasion of privacy, Edward felt it was critical at this moment. "You can't just ignore this conversation, Y/N. You've gotta talk about it at one point or another. I know you're hurting." "You don't know anything, Edward. You can't just waltz in here and think you know how I feel." "I can make a pretty good assumption based on your thoughts." She rolled her eyes as she pushed the plate of food away from her, "What is it with you guys and taking the easy way out? First, you leave Forks because of an accident. Then Carlisle leaves me with a note for his goodbye and if that wasn't enough, you have the nerve to sit here and read my thoughts instead of talking to me like a normal person would. It's getting pathetic honestly." She finished off with a huff. Edward's lips turned into a frown as he leaned back into the couch, "Then tell me how you feel." Y/N let out a deep sigh as she stared down at her hands, "I'm just hurt. When you guys came into my life, I wasn't expecting to get so attached, and when I did...God, it felt like the best thing in the world like I was flying. Carlisle knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. And then you just leave? It's one thing to leave me here by myself, but the fact no one even said anything to me? I would've preferred being left alone in the woods like a sack of meat because at least then I'd know you cared enough to see me one last time, but I didn't get that and it hurt." Edward silently watched her for a moment before speaking, "Your thoughts are all jumbled together...What are you thinking about?" She let out a sigh as she began to play with her fingers, "When you guys left, I felt useless. I felt like dead weight and it showed. I could barely bring myself out of bed to go to work and the days I manage to bring myself to work, everyone just wanted me to go home because they were so worried. It was like the only thing I wanted to do was sleep and eat my days away, but I couldn't even do that because just the thought of eating made me want to puke. As for sleeping, I couldn't do that without waking up and driving over to your house like it was some bad dream. Hell, it took five months for me to even get out of the house and get some semblance of normality back into my life, then it took another three months for me to finally feel normal again. And just like that, you guys come back without a care in the goddamn world expecting a warm welcome after everything. Especially with the things he said? It was one thing to have him come back out of literally nowhere, but for him to say all of those things too? It hurts and I don't wanna go through that again, Edward. I can't go through that again." Edward nodded with a frown settled on his face as he reached out and grabbed her hand, "You can't avoid him forever though, especially if you're both in the same town." "Should've thought about that before he left." "You're right, I should have." The pair both look toward the main entrance where Carlisle stood in the same outfit he'd worn the night before albeit a tad wrinkled and disbelieved with his normally tame hair sticking out in different directions. Her face grew into a scowl as she crossed her arms, "What part of "I'll call the cops" don't you understand? I don't want you here." Carlisle turned to stare at Edward and gave him a small nod. Obviously picking up on something Y/N couldn't quite understand, he stood up and walked out with Bella awkwardly trailing behind him making Y/N wonder just how long she was standing there watching her pour her heart out to boyfriend. Shaking away the thoughts, she looked to Carlisle. "As much as I hate you right now, I'd rather not see you get dragged away in a pair of cuffs so please just go." Carlisle only shook his head as she slowly began walking toward her, "You know I can't do that, love." "No. You don't get to say that. You don't get to come in here and act like you still care." At this, Carlisle stopped his advances as he stared her down. "I'll always care about you. I know I have a weird way of showing it, but I was only doing what I thought was best. For my family, for you." "I know that Carlisle, I could care less about the fact that you left. It's how you left and how you came back. It was just so sudden, there was no warning and you just sprung it on me. Then yesterday with how upset you got with me when I didn't immediately fall into your arms that you thought you could say such horrible things...How did you expect me to react?" As she listed off all these wrongdoings, Carlisle felt an overwhelming sense of shame and embarrassment creep onto him as he looked down at the wooden floors beneath him. "Y/N, I know there's nothing I could ever do to make it better, but I truly am sorry for all the pain I've caused you with my absence. You're absolutely right when you say the way I left was awful. I did take the easy way out, but I knew if I did it in person I wouldn't be able to stop myself from leaving you. I knew the family was counting on me and I couldn't risk my own emotions overpowering what they needed me to do." "And yesterday? What the hell was that?" Carlisle sighed as his frown deepened, "Like you said, I came back expecting you to fully accept me once again. I thought you'd be blinded with joy that you wouldn't care about me just showing up and when you didn't I just...It was painful. Having you yell at me talking about how you didn't want me around was hurtful. I didn't know how to react so I gave into my anger and I said terrible things that I didn't mean. There is no excuse for my actions or the words I said last night, but please believe me when I say that I didn't mean a word of what I said. I was angry, frustrated, and admittedly a bit thirsty. I acted like a monster and I don't expect your forgiveness, but I hope you understand just how sorry and regretful I am." At his long admission, Y/N let out a sigh as she ran a hand through her hair. "God I hate you." Carlisle looked at her, pain swirling around in his eyes as he tried to ignore the pang of hurt that made its way through his chest. "You should. I don't-" "I hate that you left. I hate that you couldn't be a fucking man and tell me yourself. I hate that you came back out of nowhere and said all those horrid things to me. I hate that you had the nerve to take advantage of your child for your own benefit. I hate how you're still here even after I threatened to call the cops on you and I hate that I still need your touch," She managed to spill out in a long, desperate breath as the salty tears began to prick at her eyes once more. Carlisle sucked in a breath before using his enhanced speed to get to the woman who's strong resolve was slowly cracking for the man who had caused her so much heartbreak. He slowly and softly brought his hands to rest on either side of her head as he gently craned her neck to look up at him as she gripped onto his arms with tears now freely streaming down her face. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as she continued to speak, "I hate how relieved I feel now that you're here," He then pressed his soft lips to the tip of her nose "I hate how I feel like I can finally breathe," Another kiss was pressed to her cheek "And I hate how much I just want you to kiss me already." At her words, Carlisle's gaze darkened slightly before he pulled her body close to his and pressed his lips to hers. Her arms threw themselves around his neck as she jumped up onto him, his strong arms immediately catching and supporting her weight as they desperately moved their lips together as if it were the last time. She tightened her hold on him as she ran her hands through his golden locks, the familiar feeling of love and adoration filling her heart as she did so, lips still moving feverishly in sync. After a few more moments, they pulled away with Y/N breathing deeply from the lack of oxygen while Carlisle stared at her with his loving eyes. Once her breathing returned back to normal, she stared into his eyes as she spoke, "But most of all, I hate how much I still love you." Carlisle let out a sigh of relief and happiness as she pulled her even closer to him, the tiniest of spaces between them being closed as they embraced each other. "I love you so much, Y/N. So so much," He spoke as he buried his face into her hair as he inhaled the scent of her sweet shampoo. "I love you too but if you ever leave me like that again I promise I won't hesitate to hit you harder than I did last night." "I wouldn't dream of it, my love. I'm yours till the end of time."

#carlisle cullen #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #bella cullen #bella swan #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #twilight imagine #carlisle cullen imagines #carlisle cullen imagine #requested #imagines #imagine #fanfic #carlisle x reader

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

again, your new john stones fic blew me away!!! Amazing. Please feel free to write about him all day every day!! <3

thank you again!! here’s another sweet one inspired by my own 1am experience tonight :) i wish I had a john stones

My hero

Your heart is quite literally thundering in your chest. There’s no feeling like it, this kind of fear that sticks you to the ground beneath your feet. You honestly feel like you can’t catch your breath, tears streaking down over your flushed cheeks as you hold your phone in your right hand with trembling fingers, one thumb finally letting go of the little microphone shaped drawing in your iMessages app. Even the whooshing sound of the message you knew was about to send to your best friend catches you off guard, making your shoulders clench and raise in fright.

“Are you seriously alright??”

She texts back, her confusion and teasing is something you know is laced into those letters across the screen creating a glow in the dim room. You roll your eyes at her, trying to keep your vision up while sending another voice note back; “No, seriously. Why does this only ever happen when I’m alone??”

“Probably because you live alone?” She replies back, and you curse yourself for a choice of friends who clearly have no empathy for what you consider to be a very serious situation. You know you won’t hear the end of this teasing once it’s all over. But the fear to you is all too real.

“(Y/n) I got your text! Came right here, are you alright?”

The sudden voice makes you literally clench your entire body, nearly shooting off the floor in fright and making one of those internalised fear noises that sounds like you just been attacked with a taser. You hear keys dropping down by the door and then a pause of his footsteps as you try to catch your breath. Your heart swells a little at the thought of him being here.

“John!” You yelp, your voice coming out something more like a strangled cry. The tall defender hears that sound and finds himself in panic, those long legs carrying him quickly and easily up the stairs of your small home until he spots you standing now in the doorway of your bedroom. He rushes towards you, seemingly checking you over for potential injuries the best he can in the darkness only broken by the lowest setting of flashlight on your phone. The first thing he notices when checking over your face with his hands is the wetness still making its way over your cheeks.

“Are you alright? what happened? Is there someone in there? Are you okay? Did someone hurt-“

You cut off his rambling with a finger over his lips, creating even more confusion for the fluffy haired brunette who had very clearly rolled himself out of bed to hurry over here. He was wearing shoes without socks, dirty shorts from training that he’d thrown off before going to bed only to pull back in to come to your, and an old sweater that usually sat somewhere downstairs in the closet closest to the door. It was obvious he had come in a wild rush the second he got your erratic message.

“It’s a wasp, John!” You whisper, as if the little creature that sitting on your lightbulb unwilling to move from the place you couldn’t reach and wouldn’t dare to even if you could, was able to hear you.

“A wasp?” John repeats incredulously. “Seriously?”

You nod vigorously, and and as much as the exhausted footballer wants to complain or even sigh at you, he doesn’t. Maybe he can’t. Because he’s got his arms around you and he definitely can feel you quivering against him. He had expected something more along the lines of a one night stand gone wrong or even someone breaking it, but as his consciousness began to catch back up with his previously very sleepy self, it made a lot more sense. In the event of a break in, you would probably have been bloody calmer than you are now to be honest. John had seen you after a pretty dangerous car crash completely still and relatively calm as you gave statements to police officers with blood still trickling down your face. But put an insect in your path and you scaled the closest thing to you for protection.

It just so happened that closest thing was often John Stones, and he was happy to be that person really.

It has become a norm between the two of you in the years you had been friends. Winter was the worst for spiders, but he generally didn’t mind the mildly irritating insects. He just got rid of them one way or another while you hid as far as you could get and then he’d come get you when the coast was clean. But you hated summer for this particular reason.

Wasps.

They fly in, fly into things and somehow never make it back on the window on their own despite it being the most easy thing one could ever imagine. Then, they try and sting you as if they aren’t in your house. They just creep you out, even the sight of them with their nasty little bodies. Bees aren’t a problem, they’re fuzzy looking and don’t intrude in your home nearly half as much. Also, they don’t try to sting you all the damn time.

“Where abouts?” He asks, his voice showing no hint of any destain or irritation he may harbour. “On the light,” you tell him shakily, following close to him back as you both enter the room. “Right up there- careful!”

John sniggers a little to himself, much to your dismay. He kicks off his shoes by your bedside table and climbs up onto the bed with ease on those ridiculously long legs. By luck, chance or both, he has some toilet paper in his hoodie pocket that he’d probably used to wipe his nose or something like that earlier, he can’t remember. He holds it out at arms length, only inches away form the unsuspecting black and yellow insect. “Where?” He asks again, “I can’t see anything.”

“There!” You insist, pointing up with a shaking finger. “I don’t see anything (y/n).” He repeats, making you whimper slightly, more tears suddenly appearing as you try to come to terms with the fact it might’ve moved while you were outside the room. The thought of having to sleep in your house while not knowing where it was would send you absolutely mental. “It was there I swear, look-“

“Ahhh, I got it. Stand back.”

He leans forward with relative ease, careful with the force he used so close to a live electric source and grips the buzzing creature in his tissue. “There we go,” he hums, stepping down from the bed. “All go-“

As if on cue, it flies out of the paper and you let loose a literal shriek as you dive backwards, crashing into the wall and then jumping forward in fright at that. “Woah!” John calls, “it’s alright, it’s right there. Calm, calm. Take a deep breath. Look,” he tries to calm you. That deep accent with his fatigue coating each word seeps into you, carefully calming your firing heart as he grabs it tighter from the floor, making sure he squashed it this time and immediately takes it to flush it down the toilet. John doesn’t know if you’re supposed to kill them or not, but at this moment in time he genuinely does not care. Was he fuck going to chase a wasp out of a window at half past one in the morning. Not a chance.

When he returns from the bathroom now empty handed, you still seem upset.

“That was scary.” You announce.

John smiles, pearly whites all on display. “I noticed.” He teases, making you scowl tiredly at him.

That scowl falters when his smile breaks into a light, soft laugh and he moves to stand in front of you. You absolutely don’t mind the fact that he’s babying you a little, using the sleeves of his sweater to wipe your cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and taking you into his strong arms. In fact, it’s very much welcomed. His arms are the safest place in the world to you and even the residual discomforted shivers from the concept of a wasp in your bedroom couldn’t get through that defender. He looks after a lot more than just the Manchester City goal line. No, he’s the sole defender of something much more precious that he doesn’t even realise.

Your heart.

“You okay now?” He asks softly, his tired voice rumbling through you. You nod against him, “Feeling a bit better. Thank you Stonesy.” You mumble, words muffled by the muscled chest that your face his resting against. “Anything for you, lovely.” He responds easily, pulling back from you in a way that aches his heart. The sudden lack of your warmth and presence against him is utterly brutal. He loves holding you, but hates it in the same breath. He would love to hold you if it was something he got to do freely instead of fleetingly.

His eyes are stuck watching you sit down on the edge of your bed to grab your phone and check the time with an element of shock rolling through your eyes when you realise it’s nearly two.

“You got training tomorrow?” You ask sweetly, a yawn following the tail end of your words adorable in a way that makes John’s heart flutter like a teenage boy. He nods, “Not till after dinner though, around 5.”

It’s your turn to nod, seeming to be chewing over something in thought as you lie down in the middle of your bed.

“Wanna stay then?”

John has to pretend to think about it at least a little bit so he doesn’t look like he’s jumping right up at the opportunity, which is exactly what he wants to do. “Why not,” he shrugs, chucking off his hoodie to the foot of your bed, “Scoot over.”

He clambers in, long limbs moving nowhere near as coordinated as they are on the pitch as he lays down by your right. It’s like a familiar dance, one you both know so well as you shuffle around so you can lay against his chest, one leg hooked over him as his arm wraps around you to pull you even closer. A silence falls between you as he feels your eyelashes fluttering shut, tickling his chest. He can’t find that same relaxation, can’t seem to shut his eyes for the thoughts flying through his mind all at once.

“I should teach you how to catch them.” John states, rumbling voice interrupting the peaceful quiet in which you had nearly found sleep. “You know, for the future.” He adds almost flippantly. Almost.

“Why?” You hum groggily, sleep croaking your voice ever so slightly. “I got you.”

John has to pretend your half asleep admission doesn’t send his heart flying into his throat. You do always have him, right there in the palm of your hand. Always.

“I don’t think other guys would appreciate me barging into their house in the middle of the night.” He suggests, making you quirk an eyebrow in question, but you still don’t look up at him and he isn’t even sure if you’ve got your eyes fully open. “No other guys here,” you state, “Single, living all alone.” You add lazily. The words almost make John wonder if he has fallen asleep, each one spoke playing straight into the dream he’s had for years for you to be his.

“Yeah, I know but…but there will be, at some point.” He suggests. You give no response for a moment and he briefly thinks you’ve fallen asleep at some point in this conversation.

“Bet those other guys wouldn’t come get rid of wasps for me in the middle of the night like you do.”

“Maybe,” John shrugs, “but I think there’s plenty of guys like that, especially for you.”

He feels you shake your head against him, your words decisive as you speak;

“There are no guys like you, John Stones.”

His words and his breath are caught on his throat, his heart erupting in his chest as he replays those words in his mind, trying to figure out if he had actually just heard them or if his tired mind was playing tricks on him because it was so late and he hadn’t had enough sleep.

But then you look up at him with tired eyes and a sweet smile. You know what you’ve just done, know the bomb you’ve just dropped and you’re hoping with everything crossed that he feels the same way.

“You’re my hero, Stonesy.” You say softly, your voice now a little sheepish and he can barely just make out the flush of your cheeks in the dim room lighting. “And I love you with everything I have.”

He doesn’t know what to say, his eyes wide as his heart beats as erratically as he had felt yours beating when he first arrived with fear coursing through his veins thinking you were in some kind of mortal peril.

“John?” You ask timidly, voice sheepish as you sit up in fear.

“Sorry,” he rumbles, pushing himself to a seated position, allowing him to lean forward and slide his hand around the back of your head to pull you into him, your lips crashing down onto his.

It’s just about everything he’s ever wanted.

“God I love you.” He says against your lips, a groan leaving his throat from pure satisfaction, pure relief of finally getting those words off of his chest. You giggle, resting back against his chest. “Can we sleep now, please?”

He nods, both of you shuffling so you can resume the position you had been in before a life changing confession that had spun you and the Barnsley brunette into the kiss that had been years in waiting. This was the happiest either of you had probably ever been.

“Guess we have the wasps to thank for this eh?” John lulls just as sleep is about to encompass you. He feels you shiver against him, the hairs on your arms immediately raising to attention at the mention of that which you hate so much.

“Don’t say that! That’s basically an invitation for them to invade my house!” You hiss, giving his chest a gentle swat as he pulls you closer to his side.

“Let them come,” he says almost triumphantly, “You got me now, always.”

You cosy yourself against him, a soft sigh of complete content and comfort tickling his chest as it dances across him. He feels that gentle smile that settles onto your gestures as your heavy eyes allow sleep to truly begin to take you.

“Always,” you mumble, words diluted by sleep “My hero.”

#john stones #john stones imagines #john stones imagine #john stones x reader #england national team imagine #england national team #john stones blurb #john stones prompt #footie fics #footballer fics #football fics

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spacedikut · 3 years

Text

the very insecure dr reid ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: “Could you write another fic about early Spence where he’s all insecure” combined with another request :) 5730 words

a/n: title taken from s1e5!! i wrote this months ago aka before i decided to try to make my fics gender neutral and i tried to make the appropriate changes but im also a dumbass so! yeah!

masterlist

Spencer is a man of science, if you didn’t already know.

This means he doesn’t spend his time fretting over what isn’t there, what doesn’t have facts and evidence to back it up. Of course, he dabbles in reading conspiracy theories and enjoys learning about various religions and things of that sort, but these are to expand his already infinite knowledge, not because he particularly believes in them.

The first time he believed there was some kind of God was when you kissed him.

It was after the case where both Elle and Spencer were trapped on a train with a paranoid schizophrenic – he still remembers how you reacted when he agreed to being sent in, how you tried to keep it light-hearted but pulled him aside to solemnly tell him you didn’t think you’d be able to live without him (if you do something rash and stupid, Spencer, I swear to God-). You threatened to nipple cripple him if he did die, and it was weirdly motivating.

After he was checked over, and teased Elle about saving her life, you came crashing into him with an audible oof and a whisper of, “God you smell so good I’m so glad you’re okay don’t ever do that again.” It was probably the adrenaline, the near-death experience high, but instead of gently pushing you away like he’d do with anyone else, he discovers your waist has a wonderful dip that his arms fit perfectly into as he tugs you close.

He’s hugged people before, obviously, but it’s always different with you.

You must think so, too, because when you pull away just enough that you’re still in his arms but can clearly see his face, you take a minuscule intake of breath that Spencer wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t, you know, Spencer.

A strand of Spencer’s hair falls from where it was tucked, falling into his line of sight. Without hesitation you’re pushing it back, fingertips brushing against Spencer’s cheek as you fold the hair back behind his ear. Your eyes meet when there’s no obstruction, electricity crackling in Spencer’s ears when he realises there’s nothing between you, nothing stopping you, and there’s something about the lack of space between you and how he holds you that just makes you ask-

“Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

Immediately, Spencer thinks yes. Not because he doesn’t want you to (he couldn’t think of anything better to do, to be honest), or because of where you are (although, knowing the whole team is not far away does make him feel a little funny), it’s because he’s him. Gangly, awkward, with very sweaty hands that feel at home on your body, and you don’t want to kiss that. You can’t want to.

Yet, he shakes his head, and finds himself copying you when you lean in and close your eyes.

It’s short, sweet, and somewhat weird. He thinks he blacks out, loses himself in your lips despite it happening so quickly.

When you pull back, Spencer’s eyes remain closed for a good few seconds before he’s brought back to Earth. And he doesn’t know what to say - pretty people don’t just… kiss him. They certainly don’t ask if they can kiss him, then follow through, and… stare at him like that.

“Has anyone seen Reid? Y/L/N?”

Whatever was supposed to happen after, whether it was good or bad, you’ll never know. Hotch’s footsteps are thundering towards you and, despite your daze, you step away from Spencer just as he spots you.

The second time he believed there was a God, he asked you on a date. And you said yes.

Neither of you mention the kiss. In your defence, he supposes, it happened merely an hour ago – everyone’s rushing to get back to Quantico so no one’s had time to make any kind of small talk, let alone have the talk after a kiss.

Elle gives Spencer a look of confusion when she slides past him, moving into the jet as he hovers in the entryway. He’s obviously waiting for someone, passing out tight lipped smiles to the team when they all squeeze past. Spencer isn’t a big guy, but it’s bizarre for him to be standing there like that, swaying like the palm tree he is – he’s usually setting up for yet another game of chess with Gideon at this moment.

Then you shuffle on, faltering when you catch him waiting for you but smile nonetheless. He straightens, hands remaining in his pockets when his mouth opens to speak. You interrupt him (before he can make a fool of himself, thank God).

“Wanna sit together?” You ask, eyes never leaving his. He nods and follows you like the lost puppy he is.

The second you invite him to sit next to you instead of opposite he wants to pull you tight into his side, but that seems like too much. He’s not Derek, for Heaven’s sake, and you’re not Garcia – all you’ve done is kiss once and really, when he thinks about it, you were probably on an adrenaline high too, so it might’ve been a heat of the moment thing. It happens, Spencer’s read about it, and although it would break his heart that it meant nothing, it’s likely. Oh, it’s so likely.

Spencer might be the first one on the team to cry on the BAU jet.

Halfway home, the team is lost in their own pass-times to notice when you bookmark your page and place your book on the table.

“Spence,” You whisper, testing if he’s awake.

He is. He hasn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep, no matter how hard he tries. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if what I did earlier- you know-“ You gesture vaguely in the air, completely oblivious to the fact Spencer is very familiar with what happened earlier because he can’t stop replaying it, “-If that made you uncomfortable. Or if I forced you, or-“

“Would it be weird if I asked you on a date when we land?”

The grin you send him shoots straight to his heart, eyes crinkling with laughter at his echo of the words you used earlier. If you notice you don’t mention it, but his hands can’t stop fidgeting under the table, slick with sweat.

“It’d only be weird if you don’t kiss me after.” You say.

His brows furrow, a small incredulous laugh leaving him. “What? Why?”

“We’ve already had our first kiss, so it’s out of the way.”

“Are you saying… You want to kiss me again?”

You thought that was obvious from when you kissed him earlier, but you’re happy to remind him. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Okay,” He says, bashfully, with a lick of his lips. “I can- I can arrange that.”

This time, when you turn back to your book, your head finds his shoulder and Spencer thinks his it has turned to gold, blessed by being touched by you. Would it be too much if, the second you get back to base, he writes about this moment in great detail to his mother?

+++

All of that leads to now, where The Date is in three days.

He plans to take you to his favourite book café, a place you’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance to, and he was so, so excited. Any time he gets to spend with you is cherished and means more to him than it does to you, because to him it’s an excuse for you to give him more reasons to fall in love with you. And he does - fall in love - every single day.

Was is the important word here. He’s not excited anymore.

It’s terrifying how quick the tides can change.

Just this morning, he was glancing with child-like excitement at the outfit he’s already chosen for the date. You brought him some coffee, whispering an endearing, “Three days!” as you did, and, according to Derek, Spencer’s love eyes (what the hell does that mean) were so big even Derek fell in love with you for a second.

Now, Spencer’s not territorial, but that comment stuck with him. Maybe that’s why he’s here now.

He has to cancel the date.

It pains him – God, does it pain him – but he has to. He can’t go on that date with you. He can’t… put you through that. Make you spend time with him and have to let him down gently, slowly, like you’re talking down a temper tantrum. He can’t then pretend everything’s okay in front of the team. He won’t be able to pretend, because he’s liked you for months.

He won’t force you to go on that date with him. You deserve better than that, and better than him.

That’s what it comes down to: you deserve better than him.

It started that morning with Derek, as previously mentioned. Then the team was whisked away on a case, and the detectives were all over you. JJ, too, but they were too intimidated by Elle and Morgan, who just laughed at their attempts to impress you. It was borderline inappropriate, but you were too concerned with the victims and finding a serial killer to pay some officers and detectives you’ll never see again any attention.

Spencer noticed, though. And he couldn’t concentrate.

The detectives are dressed too well – by that, he means the suits and the Rolex watches are way above their paygrade – and they keep emphasising how good looking you and JJ are and how lucky the BAU is to have such dolls working on the team. What is this, the 40s? Who calls anyone doll anymore? And, yes, the team is very lucky to have you and JJ, but because you’re both great minds and wildly intelligent people that, yes, are also very gorgeous, but your looks aren’t all you have to offer, thank you very much.

There’s a detective approaching you, again, as you stand by the water cooler.

Spencer frantically looks around, trying to find a member of the team. “Morgan!” He weakly calls, because Spencer won’t scare him off. Maybe Morgan can chase them away like they’re stray cats, with his big muscles and scary eyebrows. Or Elle, who earlier merely lifted an eyebrow and the officers scattered like cockroaches.

All he catches of the conversation between you and the model/detective at the cooler is, “I appreciate it, but no thank you,” and that’s all he needs to hear.

He should’ve known someone would eventually make a move. You’ve said no, clearly, and Spencer doesn’t understand why. I mean, yes, he knows why – you have a prior engagement – but the detective… As much as he’s kind of a dick, he complements you better than Spencer does. Physically.

And there starts the spiral.

There must be something in the water, because every officer and detective and everyone in between is in peak physical condition with dashing looks to boot. They’re all straight out of a magazine, as if the popular kids from Spencer’s high school graduated and followed him here to remind him he is incredibly unworthy of you.

Spencer is lanky, unlike the broad men and curvaceous women here, and slicks his hair to the side rather than up like the others. He wears sweater vests, not blazers, and he’s so skinny that his trousers always look like hand-me-downs – nothing is fitted, like so many outfits are here.

They’re all everything Spencer is not. And Spencer is realising, quite quickly, that they’re the better ones – and that’s what you deserve. Better. The best.

It gets worse when they deliver the profile.

He finds his spot next to you, gives you a tight lipped smile, then looks at the outfits of his team compared to his own. Both Hotch and Morgan wear dark suits, well-proportioned and sophisticated in a way that Spencer is sure isn’t even in his calibre. Elle wears a deep green t-shirt, tucked into her tight black pants, and looks wonderfully intimidating with her double gun holster wrapped around her shoulders.

And you. You.

You wear a white shirt tucked into nicely tailored trousers, hair effortlessly styled with a pen tucked behind your ear. You all look like FBI agents. Intimidating. Prepared. Put-together.

Spencer… looks like he’s still in high school. He threatens no one, intimidates no one, and definitely does not make anyone feel inferior with his masculinity. He’s not an alpha male, is what he’s trying to say, and for each person he encounters in this wretched police department he feels himself shrinking.

So when they give the profile, he tries to say as little as possible. Tries to attract as little attention as possible, so when Hotch says his usual, “Thank you.” He can slip away unnoticed and hide from the superior beings.

It works, given everyone is too busy trying to save lives. Except you notice, and Spencer has to pretend he’s okay when you find him at the evidence board and tell him you’re excited for the date. He wants to believe you, truly does, but no matter how hard he digs into his brain to find a part of him that can fathom you see him as a better option than literally anyone else, it doesn’t exist.

You don’t seem to notice. He tells himself he’s glad, but there’s no denying the disappointment.

+++

Hotch calls it a night when the clock nears midnight. He says the team should get as much rest as possible and come in with fresh eyes tomorrow – despite this, the team knows most if not all of them will get little to no sleep, given that they’ll all be going over everything they’ve got so far in their hotel rooms.

You slink up to Spencer, a pep in your step even though you’re running on pure caffeine and nothing else. It’s then Spencer realises he has to do it now, because if he does it in the police department then he’ll be called unprofessional, but if he waits any longer than that he’ll be cutting too close and that’s a bad look.

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop before the elevators, allowing the rest of the team to head up. “I need to say something.”

You nod with a smile, covering a cute yawn when he takes a couple seconds to gather his thoughts.

You’re not sure what he’s gonna say, but you assume it’ll be to do with the date. Maybe a change of time, or a change of venue – he did mention the library café can get super busy on weekends – or, worst case scenario, the date will have to be postponed for whatever reason. And none are particularly bad, because you’re excited and just want to be with Spencer – it doesn’t matter if it’s not when he originally planned or where he originally planned.

But Spencer has always unwittingly been full of surprises.

“We can’t go on that date.”

Instantly you ask, “Why not?”

“Well-“ He seems caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting you to question the sudden change of heart, “It’s complicated-“

“I’ve got time.”

“We should go to sleep-“

“Is it your mother?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Of course you look empathetic when you consider his mother might need him – a stab to the start. Add in the flicker of concern in your eyes – two stabs to the heart. “It’s not her. It’s- it’s nothing. Just, can we cancel?”

“And reschedule?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment is clear on your face and makes Spencer feel so guilty, but not guilty enough to take it back. You’re not disappointed that you’re missing out on dating him, you’re frustrated that you’ve been building up to having plans on the weekend and they’ve suddenly been cancelled without reason. By Spencer, of all people. In a couple months’ time you’ll thank him, when you’re dating some bodybuilder who can grow a mean beard. You’ll thank him for not making you go on that date with him and forcing you to tell him you’re just not my type, Spence, and making everything awkward.

He can’t look at you. Maybe that’s why he misses the genuine sadness, the sudden glassiness of your eyes that humiliates you enough to make you angry. His words have ignited a fire in your chest that burns through your body like you’re made of gasoline, and you wish you could turn your thoughts off so you don’t start questioning how long he’s been wanting to reject you, if he even wanted to date you in the first place, how embarrassing it is to have been so openly eager when, apparently, he was very much not.

“I’m sorry.” He says, like it’ll do anything. He still can’t look at you and he feels like a coward.

“Yeah.” You sniffle.

He decides to take the stairs. You head for the bar, just for one drink.

+++

The following day, when an officer tries to talk to you, you blatantly ignore him. You tell him that unless it’s work-related, you’re really not interested, and word spreads quick that your pleasantries have died out and you’re not in the mood to tolerate creepy compliments.

There’s a permanent frown on your face that haunts Spencer the entire day. He knows exactly what’s going on – it’s his fault, after all – and he finds himself simultaneously avoiding you whilst witnessing your downcast mood.

Morgan starts investigating not long after you barely react to his terrible joke. He makes them for you, because you either choke on laughter or throw your pen at him, but this time it was like you weren’t even in the room. When Morgan poked you and asked if you heard him, your lacklustre reply was, “Hm? Yeah, good one.”

Morgan perches on the desk Spencer’s using. “You got any idea what’s going on with Y/N?”

“They’re mad at me.”

“You’re the reason they’re like this?”

Spencer doesn’t physically react, just says, as casually as possible, “Unless another person asked them on a date then cancelled without reason, then yes. It’s my fault.”

There’s no point in lying. Especially to Derek. Spencer doesn’t know how you’ll go about explaining your sudden poor mood, if you’ll curse his very existence or lie about it, but Spencer’s never been a good liar and the sooner everyone knows it’s his fault and he sucks, the better.

Morgan leans forward, attempting to make eye contact with the doctor who very much does not want to. “There’s a story there.”

“Obviously.”

“…You wanna go ahead and explain it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright,” Derek shrugs, “You stir in your sadness and continue being a sourpuss, I’ll go check up on Y/N and find out what really happened.”

Derek’s barely moved off the table when Spencer stops him, voice small like a child, “Wait, Morgan, I-“

You walk past then, too focused on a suspect list faxed in by Garcia to pay attention to anyone else. Spencer’s eyes follow you the whole time, and the look in Spencer’s twinkling eyes make Morgan slump back onto the table in realisation.

“Why’d you cancel, Reid?”

“I had to.”

“You had other plans?”

Spencer chews his bottom lip. “No. But I… I couldn’t take them on a date.”

Derek waits for him to elaborate.

“Have you seen the kind of guys hitting on them?” Spencer asks, scooting his chair closer so no one can eavesdrop. “They’re all… They’re- they’re like you, Morgan. All cool and put-together and actually look their age, for one, and I’m not that. I could never be that – and that’s what Y/N wants-“

“Have you asked them that?”

“No. But I’m a profiler, in case you forgot, and I think it makes sense that these big-shouldered, super muscly guys are all over-“

“But you haven’t actually asked them what they want.”

“No.” Spencer sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“That’s your first, and most vital, mistake, my man.”

Spencer purses his lips, catching you watching him over Derek’s shoulder. You immediately look away, shooting off to the evidence room as an escape, and Spencer’s cheeks burn with guilt and embarrassment.

He can’t believe he thought he had a chance with you.

“I feel like this should be obvious, Genius, but Y/N said yes to a date with you, then turned down every offer that came from someone that wasn’t you-“

“That’s because they already made plans with me and they’d feel terrible if they had to cancel for another, better offer. I made it easier for them.”

Derek gives him such an incredulous look Spencer wonders if he should burn his PhDs. “Are you serious?”

The crestfallen expression on Spencer’s face is enough of an answer.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” Derek tugs Spencer up from his chair. “I need to show your dumb ass something.”

All that’s missing is classic spy music when Derek and Spencer sneak into the conference room the BAU is using. Only Hotch is in there, scribbling something down, barely glancing up when the two agents creep in like they’re on a mission.

Spencer doesn’t say anything until Derek reaches for your bag. “Whoa- Morgan-“

“Relax.”

Spencer just stares, brows halfway down his face, and watches silently.

“That’s they’re journal, Morgan, you can’t just read it-“

“It’s not, pretty boy.”

Hotch watches the interaction, mildly confused, then nods to himself when he realises what Morgan’s holding.

Morgan splays the journal on the table in front of them, flipping through pages with precision like it’s his notebook and not yours. When he lands on his desired page, it’s slid towards Spencer.

He reads it.

The Doctor Spencer Reid cheat sheet. (Because I do not have an eidetic memory and feel bad whenever I forget something he tells me)

He’s too stumped by the words cheat sheet to look further, so Derek does it for him, flipping to the next page where very basic information about Spencer sits – full name, date of birth, hometown. As he looks to the page next to it, he realises it’s full of his favourite things – favourite coffee, favourite candy (which has multiple answers, by the way), even favourite pair of socks. Like a switch has been flipped, Spencer comes to life, frantically switching between pages that are overflowing with facts and tidbits about him, from his favourite monologue from his favourite film to his favourite shelf in his apartment. All things he’s told you either in passing or when he’s confided in you at random times, you’ve taken note. You’ve listened, and for some reason you’ve written it all down so you’d never forget.

“What…What is this?”

“It’s everything there is to know about you, Reid.” Derek watches as Spencer slips through the rest of the book, filled with random to-do lists and phone numbers of various people, looking for the same information about the rest of the team. “There’s only one for you, you know. And if you ask me it’s a little creepy, but it’s saved our asses when it’s come to buying gifts for you a good few times.” He slaps a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking at how Spencer’s awe-filled eyes never leave the pages before him. “They care about you a lot, Reid. More than you think. So…”

“I need to talk to them.”

“Yes, idiot, you do.”

+++

That night, Elle and Derek invite you to join them for some drinks at the bar, promising they won’t let it escalate to arm wrestling and childish bets like they always do. Even though they make a compelling argument, add on that you’re stressed and upset and really, really want to forget emotions exist more than anything else, you’re half tempted to accept and lose yourself in some cocktails.

Then you spot Spencer talking in hushed tones with Gideon and everything comes flooding back. So you tell Elle to have a drink for you, please don’t make a ruckus when she gets back to your shared room, and bid them adieu.

In your room, you distract yourself by renting one of your favourite movies. It’s overpriced, and a part of you wants to look over the case files again, but being sad and burnt out won’t lead to any good outcomes.

It’s a futile attempt at switching your brain off so you don’t have to think about how excited you were for the date. You’ve had twenty-four hours to get over it, but every time you see him you’re thrown back into the bitterness you feel – bitter that you fooled yourself into thinking it’d work out, bitter that your hopes were so high, bitter that you let your feelings for Spencer become such a big part of your life.

You’re lying on your scratchy hotel bed, thinking about Spencer and how he’s going to be complaining to Morgan about said scratchy beds, when there’s a knock at your door.

Naturally, you assume its Elle. She reminds you so much of your older sister who used to slide you some money so you’d stay up late into the night and quietly let her back into the house after she’s sneaked off to go to a party – except Elle is probably swaying outside your hotel room after losing her keycard rather than swaying on your doorstep.

So when you open the door, teasing quip ready, you legitimately choke when you’re faced with a fidgety Spencer Reid.

He tries to ignore how the way your face drops when you realise it’s him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Hey-“

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You-what-“ He’s never seen you so flustered. “Are you lost?”

Just in case, Spencer leans back to check the number beside your door is in fact 208. It is, and he turns back to you, “Please don’t slam the door in my face.”

It slips out. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your pretty face.”

You’re humiliated that he has this effect on you, the ability to obliterate all your filters and common sense just by existing. But the look on his face alleviates the want to jump out of the window – his mouth opens, twitching into the smallest, most bashful smile before it falls and morphs back into disbelief. You just… You just called his face pretty, a word that makes some feel emasculated but no, never with you. You compliment people and mean it, which makes Spencer’s guilt worsen and the urge to tell you he loves you with his entire heart more intense.

You speak at the same time.

“Why are you-“

“I wanted to-“

You roll your lips together, holding back a smile, and nod for him to go on. He does the same, so you shake your head with a, “I was just asking why you’re here.”

He holds up a finger, signalling one moment, and opens his satchel to start rummaging in it. “I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, and theft, really, but Morgan showed me it and I just- Why do you have this?”

You gasp.

In his hand is the journal you’ve been working on since a month into your employment at the BAU. The gifted notebook was initially used to jot down any bits of advice your superiors gave you (on your first day, Elle gave you a list she lovingly titled “If I wasn’t an FBI agent I’d sock these people in the mouths”) but, before you knew it, it had an entirely different purpose.

It started when you witnessed Derek stumble when asked Spencer’s favourite colour, to which he said no one remembers stuff like that! Aptly followed by Spencer reeling off everyone’s preferred colours (even delving into second favourites and favoured colour schemes) and you realised then that… Spencer’s whole life, he’s remembered so much about the people around him and very rarely have they returned the favour. So, in an attempt to build friendship and because you had the fattest crush on him already, you started the Spencer Reid cheat sheet.

You didn’t think he’d ever see it, even if it’s always used by the team on various occasions. It was the team’s little secret, bar Spencer, that assisted in nearly every decision made on Spencer’s behalf – what to order from restaurants, drinks, birthday and holiday gifts, how to comfort him when he’s stressed or upset.

The responses vary. Derek thinks it’s weird, as did Elle at first, but JJ and Garcia insist its sweet and, really, no matter what they think they’ve all come running to you when time has called for it.

“How… Did you steal it?”

“Yes,” He tells you, guiltily, “I had to read it – it’s incredibly accurate, by the way.”

You don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.

“So… Why?”

“I don’t know,” You say, a bold-faced lie and Spencer can tell, but he lets you continue, “You remember everything about everyone else, so I wanted to… do the same for you, I guess.”

“I have an eidetic memory.”

You airily laugh – does he think you forgot that? “I know that. Doesn’t it get tiring recalling all this information about your friends and not having it reciprocated?”

He clicks his tongue at that, eyes falling back to the notebook in his hands that he fiddles with while he thinks. It is tiring, he supposes, but that’s how it’s always been. He remembers everything, the people around him just… don’t. He realised at a young age that he’ll often have to remind himself that friendship isn’t measured by what they remember, but by other ways – like this. You, with your unassuming journal that is full of things Spencer assumed no one would ever care to remember.

You, with your tensed jaw and fluttering eyes because you’re embarrassed.

You, who’s done quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, and it’s been happening for years right under his nose.

You, who he cancelled a date with because he was so sure you were dating him out of pity, out of obligation after he asked and you felt forced to say yes, but now he realises you care about him just as much as he cares for you.

Touched feels like an understatement.

“Y/N…”

“If you find it weird, I’ll burn it the second we get home. Pretend it never happened, we can… discuss a restraining order if we must-“

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh.”

He smiles at you, hands tight on the book in his hands, smiles so big that his eyes crinkle and his teeth show and he looks gorgeous. It tugs directly on your heart strings and just for a second you forget that he cancelled your date, forget that you’ve been pining for years, and bask in the warmth that radiates from him.

“This is… Insane, really.” He laughs, “But also so… so cool. I don’t deserve this, at all, and to think we could’ve gone on a date but I chickened out-“

“What?”

He shrugs with faux-nonchalance. “The-um- the reason I took back the date was because I think you deserve so much better than me. In a, you deserve someone like all the police officers down at the PD, kind of way. I don’t want a pity date-“

You scoff, then with an indignant, “Come in here,” You grab Spencer’s satchel and tug him into your hotel room, closing the door with a forceful push as he turns to face you.

With your hands on your hips, you stare him down with furrowed brows and a look that screams really? “Is that really what you think, Spence? It was a pity date?”

“Well, yeah,” He tells you. The conviction in his voice is so strong that, if you weren’t this riled up, you’d probably tear up at how sure he sounds.

You give another scoff. “Not only am I offended you think I’d do that to anyone, but I’m also mad that you don’t see how I look at you! Spencer, I’ve been into you since I started working here-“ His mouth falls open. You’re exasperated. “-and the notes were a way to get to know you, yes, but they were also because I couldn’t stop watching you and had to play it off like I was doing it for a reason. You’re my favourite, Spencer.”

His heart aches a little, full of such a tenderness he’s never quite felt before. He feels loved, and so, so touched that someone would put so much effort into getting to know him and… years. Literal years you’ve liked him, and he’s been blind to it.

“I like you a lot.” You’re breathless after your little speech, “And if you still don’t want that date, that’s okay. But I like you, Spence, I really like you.”

Your gaze never wavers. Spencer wants to scoop you up and place kisses all over. For the first time in a while, he feels worthy. Like what you’re saying isn’t being said for the sake of it, because you’re his friend and you have to support him, but because it’s what you genuinely think and feel and Spencer might be in love.

He swallows deeply before speaking.

“I really like you, too, Y/N. And I’m-I’m sorry that I cancelled the date and- I should’ve talked to you, maybe, before doing it, but… We’re here now, right?”

“You want to have a date right now?”

Thumbing through the book, he says, “Actually, there’s some blanks in here I’d like to fill, if you’re not busy…”

You’re very clearly on board with the suggestion, basically skipping to your bed, plopping down and patting the space beside you with a grin. “I’m not busy at all, Doctor Reid. Tell me everything I don’t already know.”

So he does, thigh pressed against yours and blush on his cheeks when you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

The night is spent giggling over the most random information you’ve gathered, correcting only one mistake (his favourite socks change every week, not your fault), and adding onto the already plentiful fact file.

And the date that weekend happens, ending in a sweet kiss on your doorstep that leaves you both with shy smiles and thundering hearts.

It’s the first date of many, followed by the creation of a new journal full of all there is to know about your and Spencer’s relationship.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @averyhotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #i tried to write the first half in the past tense but i got confused so sorry if the tenses r weird

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merci-bitch · 3 years

Text

Happier Than Ever

Angelique Bouchard x fem!reader

Request : Would you consider writing some jealous or possessive Angelique? It’s okay if not! :) - Anonymous

Warning(s) : swearing, angst, small nsfw, trauma, claustrophobia,

Words : 3k

A/N : I do apologize, this probably wasn’t what you wanted but it just came to me. I like this, even if there’s spelling mistakes. I don’t proof read :/. I do hope you all enjoy it! Sorry it’s taken so long! Xx

"Angie, this isn't fair!"

Angie only grinned at you as she finished tightening the chains that were wrapped around you. Standing up straight, she looked down at you. A pouty smile on her lips. Angie placed her hands on her hips.

"You know, we could have avoided this situation of you loved me."

"I do love you! Please just get me out of here." Your tone desperate. Struggling against the chains despite the small amount of space you had in the box. Angie threw her head back in laughter.

"Angelique!" You barked at her. Catching her off guard at the harsh tone. She stopped laughing at the sound of her full name. She leant down slowly again. Letting her slim fingers trace against your cheek. Despite your obvious fear, you couldn't help but lean into her touch. Your eyelids closing as you felt her lips on your forehead. Sniffing softly, looking up at her with glossy eyes. Expecting her to let you out.

"Better keep your head down, goldwing."

"Angie don't do this to me. You know I hate small spaces!" You nearly screamed. Feeling panic arise in you. Angie said nothing as she stood at full height once again. She seemed to think of something to say. It wasn't usual for the elegant Angie Bouchard to not know what to say. Moment cut short as she broke the silence. "So here's the deal."

Angie moved her hands up under her lace dress, watching with pleasure as she saw how your eyes widened in shock. Pulling the lacy panties down her legs, snapping it at her left ankle. "I'm gonna destroy everything you love." She said as she leant down and covered your lower face with her underwear. Tugging it behind your ears. "And you're gonna take some time to think about us."

Angie grinned from ear to ear as she grabbed the lid of the coffin and started to close it. "See you soon my love." Blowing you a kiss before closing the lid. Leaving you in complete darkness with your lover's underwear as a mask on your face. +

"It's not like I don't want her. Sometimes I feel as I'm more honest in my dreams and she's been in quite a few."

"Does she make you happy?"

"The more time goes, I feel as if I was made for her. Angie's comet that comes around more then I do."

"Have you been getting sleep Y/N?"

"I haven't slept since Sunday. Midnight is like 3 AM to me."

Julia leant back in her chair and crossed her legs as she watched you. Something was off. "You never answered my question if she made you happy Y/N."

You sat up and looked at Julia. Feeling your nerves burn. "Was this Liz's idea? Of course it was!"

Your tone caught Julia off guard. Stumbling with her words as you walked your way towards the door, only to watch you come back.

"I hate the way she looks at me. I can't stand the dialogue she can't speak. I know she'll never be satisfied and though I ty to tell myself that I hate her - I can't. It's all I think about when I'm behind the wheel. Is this how I'm going to feel forevermore?"

Your tone cracking at the end of speaking. Sniffing and clearing your throat, drying your eyes; looking back at Julia. Seeing her surprised eyes.

"I could never hate her. She's all I've got left of mother."

With that you left Julia's office. Nearly running down the stairs. You felt your throat tighten. Ears ringing like high keys of a piano being played. A storm forming inside your head. Sounds of loud speaking blasting in your head. Vision black and white, spiralling.

Reaching the front door, using your strength to open the old wooden door open. As if someone hit you in the face with a pillow, the wind hit you. The heavy rain flooding down replacing the blasting sound in your ears. Closing your eyes, feeling everything go away for just a moment. Letting your shoulders fall back down.

"Y/N!"

Turning around you saw Liz standing at the top of the stairs. Her face tense. You turned around again and started walking outside. Hearing her fast steps behind you. Gasping, the raindrops cold against your burning skin. Taking a moment to collect yourself, a moment too long as Liz grabbed your arm, nearly dragging you back inside.

"Are you insane?!"

Ripping your arm from her grip. "What do you mean Liz? Am I not allowed to have my opinions?" Turning so your back was facing her. Looking out again, waiting. You heard Liz groan of frustration. "Your mother wouldn't ha-"

"Don't talk to me about mother! I thought we both agreed to keep her out of this Liz!"

Your mother died when you were a teenager, when Carolyn was little. She wasn't sick. It was a sudden passing. One morning she just collapsed and didn't wake up. Of course, everything changed after that. Except Roger. Roger is Roger. Still an asshole. You and Liz became more distant and cold against each other. You never really understood why. You loved your aunt. Then Angie happened. It ruined your relationship completely. Silly you to fall in love. You'd gone to therapy to help with the trauma of seeing your mother die in front of you but you stopped years ago. You got over it, or at least pretended to. Nothing lasts, you knew the deal.

"Y/N, are you waiting for someone?" Liz asked.

"Maybe."

"She won't come, you know. She never does. She has you as a souvenir, just waiting to sell you off."

"And you think making me talk to Julia will change my mind?!" You turned around to look at her. Daring her to continue, but of course. She didn't. It's so weird that we care so much, until we don't. Things you once enjoyed, just kept you employed now. The things you longed for, will one day be boring to you.

You turned around around again, silently agreeing with Liz. She wasn't coming. You started walking.

"Y/N! You'll catch a cold!"

"So be it! It's not like any of you would care if I actually got sick, or collapsed like mother!" You screamed back at her.

"Y/N stop walking, god dammit!"

You turned around and saw Liz running towards you. Wrapping her jacket around you, the one you loved as a kid. She squeezed your arm. "Be back to dinner." You nodded your head short and flipped up the hood and made your way into town.

The walk was mid long, but cold in the rain. And of course wet. leaving you looking like a wet dog by the time you reached the town. People giving you weird glances as you stepped into Angel Bay. Stepping into the elevator, breathing normally again after walking through stinking fish. Pulling down the hod and scratching your scalp. Brushing through your hair with your fingers, trying to make it look presentable. Ending up with tying it in a ponytail. Opening the jacket, to show that there was some part of you that was dry.

As you stepped out, you bumped into someone. The person nearly knocking you to the ground, had they not held a strong grip around your waist.

"I deeply apologise! I didn't see where I was going." A man said as he helped you stand up straight again.

"No worries! I am as much to blame as you. I'm Y/N." You chuckled and held your hand out.

The guy didn't take your hand, but hugged you instead. Catching you by surprise but sooner or later you hugged him back. "You're a hugger I see."

He pulled back and scratched the back of his neck and looked to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked."

"No. Not at all. It's alright. I do love a good hug." You smiled at him and softly hit his arm. He gave you a small smile back. "I'm Matt."

"Nice to meet you Matt. I sense you're new here."

Matt nodded his head and collected his papers that'd been on the floor. "Yeah, I had an interview earlier. With Ms. Bouchard?"

You nodded. "Scary thing, isn't she?"

Matt seemed hesitant to answer. As if he was scared people would hear his answer. It made you laugh. "No need to be scared. She can't hurt you, not while I'm around, buddy."

Matt seemed to relax as you said it. Giving you a smile back. "Thanks Y/N."

"You wanna grab coffee tomorrow? At the little cafe by the corner at 11?"

"I'd like that. See you then Y/N!" Matt waved as he stepped inside the elevator. You waved back until the doors closed and then made your way towards Angie's office.

"Hello Miriam, is she in?"

"Good morning Y/N. Yes, I'll le-"

You opened the door to her office to see her on the phone. Closing the door behind you. Angie raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down as she continued to speak with whoever it was on the line. Suddenly, locking eye contact with you.

"Well, I'd be dammed."

She kept the eye contact as she put down the telephone and stood up. Not saying anything, but just looking at you. Taking you in. It almost made you feel uncomfortable. Your gaze turned to her desk, on the left corner. The little cow you'd given her as a present years ago.

"You still have the cow I gave you."

"Don't change subject."

The sharp reply caught you off guard. Nearly making you flinch. Rolling your shoulders back, looking up at her, seeing how tense her shoulders were. She'd clenched her jaw.

"What subject? You didn't even speak."

"Oh, but you certainly did."

"What on earth are you talking about Angie?"

"Coffee? Tomorrow at 11?" She mimicked your voice. That's when it hit you. Of course she'd know.

"You have some secret spy out there?"

"Do not take me for a fool Y/N!" Angie rarely shouted at you. You heard her scream and shout at others but never at you. It made you flinch and want to crawl out of your skin. Slowly, you sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Pulling the jacket tighter to you.

"I-I don't think you're a fool Angie."

"Then give me one good reason I shouldn't fire him."

"Fire him? He was just being nice!"

"Nice? Darling girl, he likes you."

Angie's tone got slick. Her lips curling into that familiar wicked smile. She slowly leant over her desk.

"He doesn't like me. He was just being nice since be bumped into me." You shrugged your shoulders.

"I think I know when someone smears themselves over what's mine." Angie crosses her arms and straightened her back.

"Alright, don't start with that. He was just being nice. You scare him." You crossed your legs and leant back in the chair. Trying to get comfortable in an uncomfortable chair was impossible.

"You know when you said you'd get me anything?"

"Yes."

"Get new chairs."

Angie groaned and walked around her desk, stopping behind you. Letting her hands rest on your shoulders. Automatically you tensed up at her touch. Making her tsk.

"So tense, my dear." She gripped your shoulders more firmly and leant down to whisper in your ear, "Do I scare you?"

A small blush crept up your chest. No matter how many times she touched you, it always had the same reaction and you doubted it'd ever change. Clearing your throat. "A little."

Angie's low chuckle sent shivers down your spine. Her hands squeezed your shoulders as she left small little kisses on the back of your neck before standing up again. You heard her do something behind you. "Why do you smell like a wet dog."

You snorted. "Well, someone forgot to pick me up as they promised."

"I had another meeting darling."

You rolled your eyes. "When don't you have one."

You felt Angie stand right behind you. Her front pressing against your back.

"Let me make it up to you." Her hands slid down your shoulders, further down your chest. Slipping under your shirt, cupping your breasts in your bra, giving them a squeeze. Leaning down and brushing her nose against the back of your neck. Her scent filling you up. Leaning your head slightly back, pushing your chest up in her hands. Angie's lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

"No, no stop."

You jerked away from her, standing up and shaking your whole body. Readjusting your shirt and bra. Angie turned around and glared at you. "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't want it."

"Don't want what Y/N."

"Just - can you step away."

For once she did what you asked. It was a first for both of you. You'd never neglected her touch. In one way or another. "Sorry. I had another fight with Liz before I came here. She mentioned my mother, that's all."

Angie watched you with curiosity. "No, don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"I'm not telling you about it."

"I never said you had to, sweetheart." Her tone was smooth like butter. Her posture told a different story. You looked up at Angie. Those piercing blue eyes. You'd get lost in them like an ocean.

"She said you only kept me a souvenir. Planning to sell me off." It was barely a whisper. You saw how Angie's whole aura changed again. Angie scoffed and walked back to her desk. Lightning a cigarette. "Liz and her extraordinary thoughts."

"Am I a souvenir to you Angie?"

"Of course not." Angie said as she sat down and opened her folder again. Setting her brain on work again.

It went quiet and you just stood there. Watching her work. Of course. Work. If she didn't get what she wanted, what was the point?

"I'm not a mirror you know."

She didn't answer.

"Times have changed, haven't they?"

Angie hummed. Clearly not listening. You knew her motto. When she got bored, she got something new. In this case it involved you.

"What a drag to love you like I do."

This caught her attention. "What do you mean Y/N."

"You know, Julia asked if you made me happy. I didn't answer her question."

Angie slowly stood up as you spoke. Her expression hard. Serious. Frightening.

"You're all it takes for me to break a promise. Silly me for falling in love with you."

You turned your back to her and walked towards the door only to jump away as a vase was thrown behind you at the door. Shattering all over the floor around the door. You turned around and looked at Angie with shock written across your face. "Are you insane?!" You looked back to the broken glass laying across the floor. Stepping away from it.

"Everybody dies. Surprise, surprise." Angie said as she walked towards you. Backing you up against the wall. Trapping you.

"You could have hit me!"

"I could never dare lay a finger on you, my dear."

"You almost did!"

"Don't tell, goldwing."

You looked over to the glass again. Angie pulled your chin back and leant in to kiss you. The kiss bruising. Harsh but full of passion. Something she never lacked. Pulling away when she needed air, but not too far. Brushing her nose against yours.

"I'd be dammed before I ever see that man touch you again."

"You're jealous."

"Not in the slightest. I don't share what's rightfully mine."

"Rightfully? Let's get one thing straight, you don't own me Angie."

"Oh, I don't? You have been to clarify that many times, my darling girl."

The statement made you blush. You hit her shoulder. "I'm allowed to have friends."

"Friends who don't touch."

You rolled your eyes at her. Stepping away from her once again. Stepping over the glass. Careful not to step in it. "You know, if you can't handle me having friends. I can't handle you." -

You don't remember how you got into the coffin in the first place. You remember walking to the door again and then everything going black. Then waking up with Angie leaning above you, and you tied up in a coffin. You knew she was a witch. Since Barnabas came, everyone knew. Everyone who was a Collins. It didn't really change anything. It made you understand her outstanding beauty. A powerful woman, quite literally.

Struggling once again with the chains that were wrapped tight around you. The underwear making it hard to breathe, the air dampening your face; making it hot. Panic started creeping up inside you. Your eyes started to sting as you continued to struggle. The general air inside the coffin was musty, and bad. Small tears making their way down your cheeks. Sobs bubbling up in your throat, threatening to spill.

"Angelique!"

You screamed the best you could as a sob covered it. Feeling your whole body sake with fear. Your ears were popping the moment you started screaming. You didn't knew what you were screaming, if it was for help or Angie. The more tears, the more screams and the more fear. You knew Angie would do the opposite of what she said she would. If this was her idea of a punishment, you weren't sure if you'd ever recover. Different thoughts went through your head. Was Liz right? Was Angie right? Were you the only bad person here? Were Angie the cause of everything?

"Angelique! Come back! Please!"

You knew she wasn't there. You knew she wasn't coming back. A point of you wanted her to come back and another didn't. People heard you, but listened to her. You were never heard. Happier than ever, and you wished it wasn't true.

You were wasting your breath. You didn't relate to her. You ever told anyone anything bad about her. You loved her. She was your everything but at what cause? She ruined everything good for you.

Nearly choking on your tears, the air getting tighter. Using the last you had, screaming your lungs out. The ringing in your ears getting worse. Was this how you were gonna die? By the hands of the woman you loved? Was this the price you had to pay for loving her? You'd never get over her. She held your heart, even if you didn't want her to.

Happier than ever. A fake story. Nothing lasts, you knew the deal.

#angelique bouchard x reader #Dark Shadows

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