#and hes. well. well. okay. so hes got blood on his hands. not really a surprise but that doesnt stop it from being crushing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jennapancake · 2 days

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Hi!!! Can I request Umemiya Hajime x girlfriend reader who has an amazing cooking skill? He gives her the vegetables he grew for her to cook and eat together at the rooftop.

The Dreamcatcher (Umemiya x Reader)

A/n: This is such a cute request! Thank you for being my first request ever and I hope this is to your liking! I tried my best but I'm still getting the hang of this whole writing thing. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Like one mention of blood from a split lip, fighting, kissing, pet names, couple behavior, slightly spell checked, and two curse words I believe.

Ever since you were little, all you ever wanted to do was cook but being declared a troubled kid by all around you only made that dream harder and harder to reach. That was until you met him...Hajime Umemiya.

You met Hajime at the age of fourteen when a group of boys tried to jump you in a tunnel that led under a railway. You had bumped into one of the boys (or more he had bumped into you) and the boy seemingly wasn't going to accept being run into without some kind of punishment.

So obviously you began fighting the boy. What else would a “troubled” kid do? However once you quickly defeated the first boy the rest of his friends jumped in. Although you were quite strong you were severely outnumbered and just when you thought your stamina had deteriorated completely, the last couple of boys were taken down in just one swift crescent kick.

Quickly looking at your savoir you saw a boy about your age with a kind smile on his face as he looked at you. “Hi, are you okay? That was quite the group.” The boy asked, a slight tilt to his head.

“I'm fine.” You responded, wiping the blood from your split lip. “Thank you…for the help.” You said only causing the smile on the boy's face to grow.

“Well of course, although I'm sure you could have handled them yourself. You did beat up most of them before I got here. You're quite strong.” The boy said, causing your cheeks to heat up, from the compliment. However, before you could respond the boy was putting his hand out towards you to shake “Hajime Umemiya” He introduced himself with a kind smile. You stood there frozen at the introduction, it had been so long since someone your age was so kind to you. As you stood frozen the boy moved his hand closer to you as if encouraging you to shake his hand instead of standing there in that dumbfounded position like you were. So, finally moving you shook his hand back “Y/n y/l/n” you said, smiling back at the boy.

And that was how you met Hajime, the boy you now call your best friend and your boyfriend. Ever since that day the two of you have been close. You followed him to Bofurin and you helped him achieve his dream, just as he helped you achieve yours.

Now as you were chopping onions for some soup you were making for dinner, you couldn't help but smile as two hands wrapped around your waist.

“Hi, Honey” You said, continuing to chop the onions, a small hello mumbled into your shoulder as your boyfriend left a kiss on the bare skin uncovered by your tank top. “How was the garden?” You asked, finally throwing the onions into the pot and then turning around in the man's arms to face him.

“It was good” He smiled down at you, “I brought you some tomatoes and the rest of the onions you asked for” He said, gesturing to the basket of vegetables he had set on the island behind him.

“Thank you” You smiled brightly at the man, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips that only made the man's smile double in size at how happy the simplest things made you. He didn't mind tending the garden, he made it specifically for you, really it was fun and quickly beginning to be one of his favorite parts of the day, besides of course all his moments with the love of his life. But he wouldn't mind tending a seventy acre farm if it meant seeing you smile at him like this for the rest of his days.

“Now as much as I love cuddling you, go sit down or make yourself useful. I can have you distracting me from the soup.” You said, a faux seriousness on your face as you pointed your finger at the tall man.

“Well then I guess I'll have to make myself useful, darling.” He said, a cheeky grin donning his features “Well then you're on tomato chopping duty.” You ordered, pointing your finger at the cutting board. “Yes ma'am” Your boyfriend smirked, quickly pulling you in for one more kiss before getting started on those tomatoes.

The two of you cooked dinner together that night just as you often did, small smiles adorning both of your faces as you glanced at one another and held conversations about your days as well as a small joking argument of what show the two of you would watch after dinner. Umemiya of course giving in to your choice of show because he would do anything for you.

Once dinner was complete, Hajime carried your two bowls of soup up to the rooftop while you carried the salad you insisted on making as well as your drinks so you could bask in whatever warmth was left from the setting sun. The calm breeze rustling the plants aligning the rooftop just adding to the serenity of the moment. Just being here with Hajime after all the work the two of you put in to reach this moment was so overwhelmingly beautiful and you were more than grateful for whatever being granted you this life.

"You're staring, Honey." The teasing voice of your boyfriend broke your daze. "Hm, sorry" You smiled sheepishly, taking a spoonful of your soup as you tried to playoff you sappy moment. "What were you thinking about?" He asked, leaning on the tops of his hands as he looked at you, a curious glint in those stunning blue eyes. "Just how happy I am to be here with you" you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks at your confession. Your boyfriend grinned happily at those words and reached his hand across the table to hold yours. "I'm happy to be here with you too, honey." He smiled softly at you and with that you continued your dinner with a blissful happiness.

"Although I might be even happier to be here with this soup, damn this is good. Who taught you to cook like this cause damn girl, might have to wife you up." And with that your boyfriend broke that serenity with of course nothing but his ridiculous comedy but that only made the moment that more special with the giggles he made spew from your mouth.

You wouldn't trade this life with him for anything in the world, he was the love of your life, the man who helped you achieve your dream you once thought was impossible. He was your dream catcher.

You were finally able to accomplish what you always wanted to do because Hajime made it a reality just for you. All because you told Hajime in a small conversation when you were fourteen about how you always wanted to cook and he had told you in return he’d grow the vegetables just so you'd never run out and can always cook to your heart's content. And after seeing that bright smile consume your features he swore to himself once he reached the top he wouldn't stop until he helped you achieve your dream just as you helped him achieve his.

And now he wouldn't trade you or that soup for anything in the world. You helped him achieve his own dreams and him helping you achieve yours was only a small repayment of his appreciation and admiration for you. You were his dream catcher.

#hajime umemiya #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker #windbreaker anime #Hajime Umemiya x Reader #Hajime Umemiya x You #Fanfiction #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya hajime #umemiya fluff #umemiya hajime x you #Umemiya Hajime x y/n

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vershl · 8 hours

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Okay I think I made y'all wait long enough LOL

SORRY THEY'RE ALL UNCLOTHED BTW, I HAVENT FIGURED OUT OUTFITS YET- 💀

I don't really have a lot to share tbh in terms of lore/plans. This AU is very VERY fresh in my brain atm. But I will fill in some details for you guys so you somewhat/mostly understand the current characters I have for now.

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Shadow

He is a red diamond (ultimate lifeform yada yada), and as stated, a "blood" diamond. I mean this somewhat in modern terms, but not entirely. In real life, diamonds mined in a war zone and sold to fund the costs, hence "blood". In this case; Shadow was created by the other diamonds (primarily white) as a weapon, the plan was to have a gem on equal footing in terms of strength and power that they could order around to do their bidding and do their dirty work.

Clearly, that didn't work out the way they wanted. Shadow pretended to be obedient, following white, and the other diamond's orders. He shattered other gems for whatever reason the diamonds deemed fit (among other things I haven't decided on yet), only doing so to avoid the risk of being deemed defective and shattered himself, or the gem being shattered regardless by someone else.. he at least knew he could give them a swift end without pain.

Once Shadow gained the diamonds trust to wander around as he pleased, the moment no one was looking, he stole a ship and left Homeworld. Going as far as he could into the universe until he found Mobius and crash landed there. It wasn't very long before Sonic found him, and eventually became allies, inviting Shadow into the Crystal Gems, to which he accepted, and chose the name 'Shadow'. He didn't want to be called 'Red' or 'Red Diamond' anymore. He was free now. (This is as far as I got with him, sorry y'all HAHA)

Sonic

Sonic is a yellow prism in the shape of an isotoxal star (the yellow is a nod to super Sonic). In my AU, because offical SU lore with gems is relatively limited, different colored gems even if of the same type, give different abilities/powers. In Sonic's case, yellow prisms give the ability of super speed, because of course, and he chose his name based on that fact as well.

Lore wise with Sonic-- He's the leader of the Crystal Gems (makes more sense considering the CG's signature symbol is a yellow star, so I just ran with that but changed the normal star to the isotoxal). But that's all I have for him.

the rest of these characters have 0 lore at all, i will just try to explain their gems a bit- sorry

Amy

Amy is a Mimetite, a heart stone which helps with emotional stability, inner balance, serenity, joy, and adventure (according to google). Because Amy is basically canonically that 'therapy' friend, mimetite fits perfectly with her personality. As you can see, there are only a few designs that have weapons currently, Amy's being obvious because it's her signature weapon and just works here in the AU as well.

Tails

Tails is a yellow peridot, it's obvious why, and I don't need to elaborate LOL. There isn't much different between peridot colors, it's more-so personality traits than abilities. Green peridots are quite egotistical and arrogant in themselves, while yellow peridots are more adventurous and selfless.

Knuckles

Sorry for his naked hands btw. Honestly, I don't think I have to explain why Knuckles is a garnet. It just tracks. (Reminder that in the show, Garnet isn't a real garnet, it's just what she decided to call herself. In this case, Knuckles IS a real garnet.) Is his signature gem weapon gauntlets/gloves, yes. Did I steal the idea from Garnet? Shut up. :] Besides, Knuckles needed his usual gloves somehow, and he fights by punching shit anyway, so why not? Star on the back of the gloves ofc for obvious reasons.

Rouge

GOD this stupid bat bitch, aaaanyway, ahem. In my AU beryls are information gatherers, either by stealing it or manipulating their way into obtaining it. Beryls are generally under diamond control and report back to their assigned diamond with information they demand for, obviously Rouge is part of the Crystal Gems, so she gathers information for them. And more often than not...is her usual self, and snoops around, digging up dirty secrets/information about her comrades and teases them to no end with it (Shadow being her favorite to torment for... reasons.)

Silver

I chose Silver to be a sapphire simply because of the fact that in the Sonic universe, he can time travel. So instead of time travel in this Steven Universe AU, he gets future vision. I mean it works, right?

Blaze

We can talk about her gem right.. right? It's really tasty and I want to eat it. So; opals are very, VERY rare (which fits with her whole being a princess thing or whatever). She was originally going to be a fire opal... that is until I found out about dragon's breath opals and changed my mind. Blaze is an absurdly rare gem, who knows, maybe even the only one of her cut. :]

Her gem gives her the ability to control fire as a weapon, and her unique cut gives her fire more power as well as makes the flames an unusual pinkish hue.

---

And that's everyone for now! I'm doing some little doodles that I might post a bit later on to compile together, but you can have the two I made of Shadow for now. eats him

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bo0zey · 1 year

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my manager has kids:(😕 but i have a new resident doctor crush soooo;)😳

#i knew i didn’t stand a chance !!!!!#also i saw my first pediatric cardiac arrest today #i was okay during the code i was glad i could be helpful i just gave out flushes lol #they didn’t make it but i had a feeling that was gonna be the outcome cuz they were already in rigor mortis when they got to us #the doctor leading the code was the one i’ve recently started talking to more n he’s like rlly friendly w everyone #i wish i knew the difference between someone being nice to me and flirting w me lol #anyways he did really good leading the code as well as the other doctors doing their best n everyone else #he wanted to hold a debriefing w everyone afterwards but i stayed back to clean up the room so when mom say her baby it #wouldn’t be as traumatizing w all the blood snd gastric contents soaked towels and garbage EVERYWHERE #i wish they’d stopped the code sooner the doctor leading the code was the first to point out the baby was in rigor right at the beginning #but obviously cuz it’s a peds case they wanna do everything they can and he literally did EVERYTHING all the code meds u could possibly orde #this stupid lady next to me who had no idea what she was talking abt was like ‘wait i think i see something on the monitor’ n im like bitch?#the baby was literally PEA they’re in fcking rigor mortis stop trying to prolong this horribly aggressive mess just let it end peacefully #baby was asystole throughout the entire code..they couldn’t even intubate him cuz his jaw was clenched so tight #anyways right after everyone agreed w the leading doctor to end it the doc like put both hands on the bed and kinda #bowed his head but i saw the pained look on his face i hope he didn’t blame himself i mean he knew from the start the baby was in rigor and #he asked everyone to give the baby a moment at the end of the code #that’s when they were all gonna go debrief but i stayed behind #anyways my supervisors were asking me if i was ok n i was like yeah bc the baby looked so much more at peace when we readied the room formom #then later the leading code doctor found me and asked if i was okay and i said was fine..i felt better knowing he was already gone before #he got to the hospital and was in literal rigor mortis with a rectal temp of 94 deg F #but i didn’t want to seem too heartless bc i could tell the code had upset him and he was talking in a more quietly #concercdndd voice like he’s usually always loud and joking around like me so :( and the fact that he stopped to talk w me privately n was #genuinely wanting to know if i was okay made me ;-; cuz im not used to being comforted?? or having my emotions validated #i was like ‘yeah im fine now haha it might all hit me later when im driving home alone at the end of the shift lol’#n he gave me a pat on the shoulder n said i did a good job ;—;#ngl i always thought he was kinda cute but i only just started talking n working w him on pts tuesday n i think he likes me????#idk bc he’s friendly n easy to get along w everyone AS AM I but idk we talked 1-1 before n i got a Vibe 😳 from him #but anyways then i got home n had pasta n talked to my fam abt my day and told them i had my first peds cardiac arrest #then all of a sudden something in me switch??i felt myself stiffen n my eyes started watering so i went to my room n ended up crying 4 20min

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tojipie · 6 months

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toji x crybaby reader <3

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut under the cut !

˚ ✧ ───────────

toji is a flawed man.

short-tempered, married to his money, slow to show affection. but the one thing he does excel at is comforting you.

he knows you’re a sensitive girl, knows just how easy it is for you to get teary-eyed and red in the face over comments that otherwise seem like nothing to the untrained ear.

you have a kind heart is all, too giving to a world that only knows how to take. he tells you that every time you break down in his arms, thick hands rubbing circles into the small of your back.

his father would have slapped him across the face for crying. called him soft, whiney like a girl. put him to work for the rest of the day to shape him into a man.

he wasn’t his father though, and you weren’t a zenin.

you were soft in the best way, tender-hearted and too trusting. a daisy among weeds, swaying idly in the too-strong wind. nothing like a zenin, nothing like him.

he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do the first time he’d seen you get upset, standing there in the kitchen like a fool while you babbled on the phone with his bank.

it was a fraudulent charge, small, maybe only 10 dollars. probably dropped his card while paying for gas again, not the end of the world. the customer service rep assured you that much.

it was the principal, you sobbed. you’d lost his card and hadn’t even noticed. why wasn’t he upset with you?

he doesn’t know why he didn’t just tell you it was okay. that he didn’t have it in him to ever be cross with you, be it a ten-dollar charge or a thousand-dollar charge.

instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your body flush with his to press soft kisses to the crown of your head.

you were warm there, warm everywhere really. the thrum of your blood heating your skin from the inside out. toji liked that about you, how you offset the perpetual cold of his much larger hands.

physical touch was something he knew well. toji wasn’t—still isn’t good with words, opting to stay silent and just hold you while you sniffled into the receiver. he got the message across, he always does.

his methods are unorthodox for that very reason. he doesn’t comfort you with his tone, he does it with his body. whether it be thick arms squeezing you until you get your breathing under control, large hands tracing shapes into your tummy until you stop spluttering, or toned legs splaying wide to let you crawl into his lap, resting on him until your bodies reach the same temperature.

toji fucks you on your good days, likes to tease you, get you squirming. the key difference is that he makes sweet love to you on your bad ones. holding you flush to his chest while he rocks into you under the safety of your shared blankets.

you feel like a furnace under him every time, heat radiating off your body and into the deeper parts of his soul.

he gets mouthy once the feeling of you wrapped around him flicks that little switch in his brain. turning off the mental barrier between him and his inability to use his words.

“sweet girl,” is what he calls you, eyes never leaving yours.

“gotta stay close to me, gotta keep you safe, huh?”

and keep you safe he does, tucking your face into the curve of his neck so you don’t have to look anywhere but him. letting you moan, and pant, and sigh into his skin while he rocks against that special spot situated deep in your core.

he goes harder when you ask him to. not faster, but harder—he knows the difference, letting the resistance in his hips subside so he can sink to the hilt over and over.

the juxtaposition makes his head spin. how do you manage to sound so sweet while asking for something like that? able to melt his heart even on the brink of orgasm.

you kiss him when he fills you up, letting him sink on top of you with a huff and a shy laugh. he listens as you open up about the good parts of your day, his soft hums of agreement spurring you on.

toji wishes he was taught to articulate himself better. he’s trying, he really is. though the “i love you” he says into your skin seems like his best shot at a start.

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evilminji · 2 months

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Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

#dc x dp prompt #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #minji's writing

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bruisedboys · 6 months

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jealous finnick?

jealous finnick will be the death of me!!!!!!

finnick odair x fem!reader

Breakfast in District 13 is an unusual affair. Nothing like you’re used to, being from District 4. It’s the same every morning — boring grey oatmeal with either honey or berries, depending on the day. It’s only as you take your seat next to Finnick that you realise you’ve forgotten the very crucial toppings.

“Oh no, I forgot to get berries,” you bemoan. They’re definitely all gone by now, seeing as they’re in popular demand — the oatmeal served in 13 tastes like cardboard without them.

“Here, have mine,” Gale says from across the table. You open your mouth to protest but he’s already spooning a big heap of berries into your bowl. They bleed red and purple into your otherwise plain oatmeal. “I don’t like ‘em, anyway. Too sour.”

“Oh.” You smile at him, flattered. Gale’s been nothing but kind to you since you arrived in District 13. You haven’t put it down to anything other than friendliness. Though it’s possible you’re too enamoured with the blonde next to you that you’re completely oblivious to other men’s advances. “Thanks, Gale.”

Gales smiles back and shrugs. “No problem, Y/N.”

Next to you and unbeknownst to you, Finnick scowls. He hates that Gale’s so nice to you. Loathes it. He knows it’s because you’re a ray of sunshine who draws even the coldest of people in (believe him, he’s experienced it), but the fact that Gale gave you his berries before Finnick could even offer his makes his blood boil.

Who does he think he is? Everyone knows you’re Finnick’s girl, he’s made it very clear. It’s the whole reason you’re here, after all — Finnick specifically requested you be picked up from home before the Quarter Quell ended, to prevent anything from happening to you.

Breakfast passes without further incident. If you notice Finnick’s sour mood, you don’t mention it. You’re leaving the canteen with everyone else when Finnick grabs your waist and pulls you to the side, into an empty hallway. He peers over your shoulder to make sure Gale’s good and gone, watching the back of his head with a glare that could kill, before turning his attention to you.

“Finnick,” you say, clearly confused at his sudden manhandling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Finnick says shortly.

“You look mad.”

“I’m not.”

You squint at him. “You’re definitely mad. Why are you—?”

Finnick forgoes restraint and yanks you forward, pressing his mouth to yours before you can say anything else. His chest burns with molten hot jealousy, it climbs up his throat and pours into the kiss, hot and sticky. The heat ebbs though, when you kiss him back just as fervently, replaced by a fuzzy warmth only you can make him feel. It buzzes in his chest and down his arms, flares out his palm as he takes your face into one hot hand.

He pulls back just as suddenly as he’d drawn in. “You know Gale’s flirting with you, right?” He says abruptly, thumb pressed to your cheekbone.

You blink up at him, still dazed from his kissing. “What?” You ask, half laughing. “No, he’s not.”

“He is. He gave you his berries. I was going to give you mine.”

You raise both eyebrows. “He was just being nice to me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my job.”

Finnick supposes he sounds quite pathetic. He doesn’t really care, not when your eyes go all gooey and you reach up on your tiptoes to push a curl from his forehead.

“Are you jealous?” You ask him softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your breath fans over his mouth and your hand lingers at his throat. “You sound jealous.”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “So what if I am? Just— have mine next time, okay?”

You smile at him, pretty as starlight. “Okay. But you don’t have to be jealous, you know? I only want you.”

Woah, Finnick thinks. “I know,” he says, too quick, his voice a notch too high.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Do you though?” You ask, definitely teasing now. He supposes he got off lucky, you could’ve done much worse finding out he’s so sickeningly jealous over Gale, of all people.

Still, Finnick narrows his eyes at you. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Your answering giggle is smothered as Finnick swoops in to kiss you again.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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waitimcomingtoo · 6 months

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Line Without A Hook

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta freaks out when you get hurt in the arena and gets teased for how much he takes care of you (catching fire arena)

Masterlist

Peeta had barely gotten out the words “stay by me” when the cornucopia on the island starting to spin. Tributes flew off and fell into the water as others struggled to grip on to whatever they could.

“It moves?” Finnick shouted to no one in particular as he gripped the first arm he could see through the salt water spray. The arm belonged to Peeta, who looked to his side and panicked when he realized you were no longer there.

“Where did Y/n go?” Peeta shouted over the sound of the waves.

“I think she went over by the weapons.” Finnick shouted back as the dial began to rotate faster. Peeta looked into the center and saw Johanna and Mags struggling to stay aboard but no sign of you.

“Well she’s not there anymore.” Peeta shouted back as his anxiety grew.

“I’m kinda busy here, Peeta. I don’t know where your girlfriend went.” Finnick replied.

“There!” Wiress called and pointed towards one of the arms. Peeta followed her finger and saw you fighting with one of the careers on the edge of a spinning arm. You were winning the fight until another career threw an axe your way and got you right in the rib cage. Peeta just about lost his mind when he saw you go limp and fall into the water. He let go of the center and grabbed the first weapon he could see before sprinting toward where you had been.

“DON’T TOUCH HER.” He shouted as he threw his weapon at the career you had been fighting. It buried in his chest and sent him flying into the water. Peeta then dove into the water and forced his eyes open in an effort to find you. He followed the wavering trail of blood until he found your body floating in the water. By the time he pulled you to the surface, the dial had stopped spinning. Finnick helped him pull you out of the water and tried to give you CPR but Peeta pushed him out of the way. He did chest compressions and mouth to mouth as tears fell from his eyes and onto your face. Finally, your eyes opened and you coughed up some water. Peeta gently rolled you on your side so that you could get it all out and held your hand when you were done.

“Y/n? Are you okay, sweetheart?” Peeta asked as he held your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Peeta?” You coughed out.

“I’m here. Are you okay?” He asked again and brushed your wet hair off your face.

“I’m okay. It’s just a knick.” You said and winced from the pain of the wound in your side.

“I watched it happen. It was a lot more than a knick. And you’re still bleeding.”

“It’s fine. I just do that sometimes.” You tried to wave it off but Peeta was not budging.

“Come here. We gotta get you off this thing.” Peeta looked at the cornucopia angrily before carefully lifting you off the ground. He and Finnick brought you back to the beach and helped you lay down on the sand.

“Really. I’m okay.” You tried to assure Peeta once you were on the ground again.

“Let me see how bad it is.” He said and tried to rip your suit around the wound.

“Peeta, I’m fine.” You insisted and pushed his hand away.

“You’re not fine. Just let me see.” He pleaded. You knew he wasn’t gonna let it go so you sighed and unzipped the back of your suit. You’re gingerly rolled it down to your waist, leaving you in the black bikini top you had underneath. It was the least amount of clothing Peeta had ever seen you in so he blushed and adverted his eyes at first.

“How bad is it?” You asked him, making him snap back to the moment. He looked at the wound on your side and relaxed a little when he found it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought.

“It looks worse than it really is. We just need to get it clean.”

“We?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You took care of me once. And I’m not gonna let you die from infection after everything you’ve survived.”

“But-“

“Just shut up and let me take care of you?” Peeta whined.

“Okay.” You smiled softly. “Fine.”

Peeta returned the smile before carefully picking you up. He walked into the water with you in his arms and went deep enough that the salt water could clean your wound. You winced and arched your back to stay out of the water.

“Sorry. I know it hurts.” Peeta apologized and bent his knees to put you back in the water.

“It really hurts. I want to get out.” You told him and flinched when a wave stung your side.

“Not yet. You have to keep it clean.” Peeta said sympathetically. You gripped his shoulder and hissed in pain as he dunked you in again.

“Look at them.” Finnick snorted and nodded towards you and Peeta.

“You think it’s real?” Johanna asked as she sharpened her axe with another knife.

“What?”

“The whole lovelorn star crossed lovers plot. Think it’s all an act?” Johanna asked as she watched the two of you in the water with the sun beginning to set behind you.

“I used to.” Finnick replied.

“Used to?”

“Yeah. I thought it was an act at first. I think we all did. But that boy loves her.” Finnick said most assuredly.

“Okay. That’s enough.” Peeta decided and carried you back to the shore.

“I can walk.” You chuckled when he continued to carry you up the beach.

“I know.” He said simply and continued carrying you. He gently laid you down by the rest of your group and knelt beside you.

“I need something to cover this.” He realized and looked around but all he saw was sand.

“Can you please get me some leaves from the jungle?” Peeta asked Johanna.

“Get them yourself.” She scoffed.

“I can’t leave her. Please, just help me this once.” Peeta asked again.

“Peeta, it’s okay. Really. You can go.” You assured him by taking his hand and squeezing it. He blushed when you did this and nodded his head.

“I’ll be right back.” He promised before running off into the jungle. He returned shortly after with a couple leaves and water in a coconut shell.

“I got some leaves and water. Can you sit up?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” You smiled in appreciation as you painfully sat up. Peeta held the coconut shell to your lips and helped you sip some water before using the leaves to create a bandage for your wound. The sun had set below the horizon at that point and you were definitely ready to go to sleep.

“You can sleep. I’ll keep first watch.” Peeta said as he read your mind. You usually protested and let others sleep first, but you were too tired to do that today.

“Thank you. Wake me up in a few hours so you can sleep too.” You told him as you laid down on the sand. Peeta sat beside you until the morning came and when you woke up, you realized he was in the same exact position as he was when you had fallen asleep.

“Hey.” You said through a yawn that hurt to complete. You winced and touched your side as you tried to sit up. Peeta put a hand on your back to help you sit up and immediately handed you a coconut shell full of water. You smiled graciously at him and drank the whole thing.

“When did you sleep last night?” You asked when you were done.

“I don’t know. Sometimes after-“

“He didn’t.” Finnick cut him off. You looked at Peeta for an explanation and he was red with embarrassment.

“What? You didn’t sleep?” You asked and smacked his arm.

“I tried to take over after I got a few hours but lover boy didn’t let me. He said he needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out.” Finnick continued as he headed towards the water to fish for some breakfast.

“P, you need to sleep. I was fine.” You said and shook his arm.

“I was too. I wasn’t tired.” Peeta replied and you knew he was lying. You gave him a look but he just looked to the side.

“I’m really okay. The salt water helped.” You tried to assure him.

“Oh, yeah. Salt water. We have to keep it clean.” Peeta remembered and stood up. Before you could protest, he scooped you up and carried you to the water. You didn’t complain this time even though it hurt to be in the water. You knew he just needed to take care of you or else he’d lose his mind with worrying. Once he was satisfied, he carried you back to the beach and gently laid you down.

“Are you hungry?” He asked once you were back on the sand.

“I’m all right.” You answered.

“Are you hungry?” Johanna mocked Peeta’s voice in a high pitched manner. You looked at her angrily as Peeta turned red.

“Instead of mocking me, why don’t you do something to help?” He said to her.

“Help how? No one else can get near her because of you. You should’ve seen the way he was watching you last night. I don’t think I ever saw him blink.” Johanna snorted. You looked over at Peeta and he was looking down at his hands with embarrassment. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it endearingly.

“It’s nice that Peeta cares so much. He’s right about infection. A lot of people have died from it in these games before they even realize what’s going on.” You defended him, making him smile at you.

“Oh, give me a break.” Johanna groaned. “Why don’t you two make out some more and get us some sponsors?”

“Yeah. Put on a show so we can eat.” Finnick laughed. Peeta shifted uncomfortably and you felt bad for him. You knew your fake relationship was a sensitive subject for him and now he had to listen to his allies mock it.

“Stop it.” You stated. “We’re not doing that.”

“Please? Just say your vows again in front of the camera. I’m starving.” Johanna whined.

“Then go hunt.” You snapped.

“Come on. What’s the point of being allies with the star crossed lovers if you’re not gonna kiss and get us some parachutes?” Finnick asked with a teasing smile.

“I know. I thought we’d at least get something when Peeta nearly lost his mind after not being able to find you for-what was it- two minutes? I thought his head was gonna explode.” Johanna added on.

“So did I.” Finnick agreed. “If you think about it, we don’t even have to kill the other tributes. Let’s just hide Y/n for a few hours and let Peeta kill everyone while he tries to find her.”

“Leave him alone. No more jokes.” You ordered all while Peeta stayed silently looking out at the waves. Everyone was quiet for a minute and you assumed the jokes were finally done. Peeta looked at you and smiled sadly so you took his hand and squeezed it.

“If they show us how they made that baby, I bet the Capital would send us a feast.” Johanna said to cut the silence. Finnick burst out laughing, making Peeta get up and walk away. You watched him walk into the jungle before looking at Johanna and Mason angrily.

“Look what you did. Why’d you have to tease him?” You asked and smacked Finnicks arm.

“Sorry. Go check on him. Tell loverboy I didn’t mean to make him cry.” Finnick pouted teasingly. You rolled your eyes at him and got up off the floor.

“You guys don’t know him. He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. Don’t forget that he won his games.” You said in Peeta’s defense. That left Johanna and Finnick silent as you walked off into the jungle in the direction Peeta had gone in. You found him using the spile to get some more water from you. You weren’t even thirsty from how often he’d been getting you water but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“Hey.” You said as you approached him.

“Hey. I was getting you some water.” Peeta said without looking at you. You could tell he was upset by what the others had been and you hated that you couldn’t even talk about it without the cameras picking it up.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him as you took the water.

“If you’re hungry, I can go pick some stuff. I know Finnicks been catching a lot of fish so if you need something sweeter, I can try and go find a berry bush.” He offered and still didn’t look in your eyes. You took him face and turned his head so that he had to look at you. He finally looked into your eyes and smiled sadly.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. “But really, I’m really okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself.”

“I can. But I appreciate you taking care of me. I just don’t want you to worry about me so much. We all need to be on high alert. I can’t be taking up your thoughts all the time.”

“But you do.” He said with a sad smile. You smiled back before pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back and was careful not to put his hands anywhere near your wound.

“I’m sorry they were teasing you.” You said into his ear.

“It’s okay. I deserve it for being so sensitive.”

“I like that you’re sensitive. It’s one of my favorite qualities of yours.” You told him as you pulled out of the bush but kept your arms around him.

“One of?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I like your banana bread too.” You replied, making him roll his eyes.

“Oh great. She likes my banana bread.” He chuckled. “That’s not one of my qualities.”

“I know. But I think about it all the time. I smell it sometimes in my dreams.”

“I’ll make you some when we go home. Your own loaf.” He promised you.

“I can’t wait.” You said through a sad laugh. You knew there was no possibility of that happening, but it made you happy to imagine anyway.

“Do you think we’ll go home?” Peeta asked after a beat of silence.

“I don’t know. We did last time.”

“Yeah but what are the chances of that happening again?” He said quietly.

“I try not to think about it.” You admitted.

“Me too. That’s why I spend so much time thinking about you.” Peeta replied. You looked into his puppy dog eyes for a while and stayed in comfortable silence. Peeta stared at you and touched your hair to keep himself grounded.

“I killed that guy.” Peeta said suddenly in a quiet voice.

“The one who attacked me?”

“Yeah. Him. I threw an axe at him. I could’ve just punched him but I didn’t. I went for the kill.”

“Why?” You wondered. You weren’t mad, it just wasn’t like Peeta to kill someone.

“Because he attacked you.” Peeta said simply.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you kill.”

“I didn’t either.” He admitted. “Do you think differently of me?”

“No. As long as you don’t try to kill me now that you’ve tasted your first blood.” You joked.

“I would never hurt you.” Peeta said sincerely.

“Oh, I know. I was just kidding.” You assured him.

“I know. I just…I don’t think you understand what you mean to me. I saw that guy put his hands on you and I just lost it. I saw red. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought he was gonna take you from me.” Peeta’s voice cracked on the last part so you pulled him back into a hug. You swayed back and forth and rubbed his back to calm him down.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay. You saved me.” You said in his ear.

“I can’t lose you.” He sniffled and hugged you tighter.

“You won’t.”

“I can’t.” He repeated. “So when I’m a pain about keeping your wound clean or drinking some water, please just listen to me. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“Okay. I can do that.” You assured him.

“You better. Because I swear to God, if you die-“

You cut Peeta off by pulling out of the hug to kiss him instead. Peeta stiffened for a moment at the unexpected contact but then melted into the kiss. The kiss didn’t last very long because Peeta got in his head about the motive behind the kiss.

“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.” He pulled away to whisper to you.

“I know that.” You said simply and reconnected his lips in a kiss. Peeta cupped your face to keep you close as he kissed you back. His insecurities melted away into the kiss and he let himself believe you really did feel the same.

“Hey, lovebirds. Get a room or join us for breakfast.” Finnick called from the beach. You pulled out of the kiss and rested your forehead against his.

“I wish he’d leave us alone.” Peeta sighed.

“I got this.” You told Peeta and turned to Finnick.

“I thought you wanted to see how we made the baby?” You called back. You could hear Finnick laugh as he walked back to the water to catch more fish. All while Peeta was a blushing mess over what you were implying.

“You hungry?” You asked Peeta once you were alone again.

“Can we just stay here for a while?” He asked you. You smiled and nodded your head to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

“As long as you want.”

#peeta mellark whump #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark #the hunger games peeta

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dannnnnny666 · 13 days

Text

Day 12: Time Travel

“Sooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?” Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.

A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!

Batman didn’t give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed “community service hours”.

The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.

“Why?”

“Well we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think it’d be best if we all got to know you better,” that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you can’t use those for school, he’s tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!

Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wally’s skull before saying, “Okay fine”.

The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.

“Depending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblings”

“Is your father a serial adopter too?” Tim joked.

“Yes and no”

“Huh?”

“It’s pretty complicated,” Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.

However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantom’s statement.

“Ehh, it probably isn’t as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much trauma”

At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“I see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insane”

“Am I?” Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.

Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim.

“You’re lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bit”

Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.

“Okay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parents” Phantom began, “but then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfather”

Megan raised her hand and asked, “Isn’t a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?”

“‘Cause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple times”

“I see,” Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.

“There I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanity”

“I think that was a bit of an overreaction,” Wally joked.

“You tried to kill all of humanity? Why weren’t we told of this when it happened?” Kaldur'ahm asked.

“That was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,” Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didn’t not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.

“What happened next?,” Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.

“I was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,” Phantom continued to explain, “so I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken away”.

“Is your therapist open to seeing new patients?” Konner asked.

“No, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number instead”

“Sure, that’ll work”

“Okay,” Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, “The thing is I can’t go back to living with my real parents because they don’t know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfather”

“You gotta be kidding me” Tim groans.

“Exactly what I said!!” Phantom put his arm up defensively, “Fortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty of”

Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.

“Anyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess I’d have to considered the other me as my brother”

“Damn bitch your family is crazy” Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantom’s tough skin.

As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.

“You all were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago”

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va1entinesg4l · 1 month

Text

one too many bites

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: After launching his new ice cream, Charles had another flavour that was made just for you.

warning: smut!! aphrodisiac, p in v, breeding kink

A few days ago, Charles had officially launched his new ice cream brand ‘Lec’ with five different flavours. Hosting a party as well for his guests. But obviously before they got to try his ice cream, you did. His girlfriend always came first and to your surprise, Vanillove was your favourite.

You were back home from work, feeling stressed out when you notice an ice cream tub sitting on the table. Red? Charles never launched this. You furrowed your eyebrows as you called out for him, “Charles?” Suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist as the sound of the french accent rings through your ear. “Good evening, mon ange.”

His chest pressed against your back as he kisses the back of your neck, making you giggle quietly.

“What is that?” You gesture to the ice cream on the table and he replied with a grin, “Just a gift for my beautiful girlfriend.” You knew Charles liked spoiling you with gifts, no matter what it was.

You held the tub of ice cream up as you say in confusion, “It’s red. You never launched this.”

“That’s because i didn’t. It’s a treat just for you and i to share, mon coeur.”

“Love Potion. Really?” A giggle escaped your looks as you read out the name he gave the ice cream and he just gave you a sly smile. If only you knew.

Both of you share bites of the ice cream together, the first bite was blissful, it tasted like raspberry with a hint of vanilla, bits of chocolate inside that you seemed to enjoy. Charles was glancing at you every now and then as if he was searching for a reaction.

And with each bite you took, you felt your mind fluttering. You placed the spoon down and so did Charles when he notices the aphrodisiac starting to kick in.

“You okay, y/n?” He knew damn well what he was doing, seeing how he started rubbing your thigh slowly to tease you.

You mumbled incoherently before you ask, “What’s in the ice cream?”

“Just raspberries and choc-“

“I know but..” You trail off, your gaze staring at Charles’s lips, you felt heat starting to grow inside of you. You didn’t know what was happening but all you thought about was how you wanted Charles to bend you over and fuck you. For him to cum inside of you. And before you knew it, you moved on top of Charles, your lips on his as you start to kiss him.

He grips your ass as he rolls his hips against yours and you could feel his cock beneath his jeans. Your fingers move to his hair, running through them as you bit down on his lip hard, making him groan.

It’s been months without sex since you were both so busy with work. Every time when Charles had persuaded you for sex, you would start pushing him away with excuses like ‘I have work to get done.’ or ‘I have a meeting.’ He needed to get you distracted, away from work.

Never would he ever thought the recipe would work. A recipe he found online that could increase your sex drive, arousing you in just 10 minutes. He definitely owed his team a lot.

He then lifted you up from the couch to the table, laying you down before moving down to kiss your breasts, sucking on one of your nipples.

“More, Charles.”

The single word sent blood running to his cock and without a second, he slides his jeans down, lining his cock to your pussy before sliding in.

You let out a shaky breath at the sensation before he starts thrusting his hips against yours. The table shaking with each thrust.

Your fingers dug into his biceps when you felt his cock deeper and deeper inside of you, his hand pressed down onto your stomach as he felt himself inside of you.

“Feel that, mon ange? Feel how deep i’m inside of you?”

You nod with a whimper. You wanted him to fill you up with his cum, you wanted to see it drip down your leg as you walk. “I wanna feel you cum inside of me, Charles. Knock me up with a child.”

Charles groans at your words, cumming inside of you. You let out a cry and you arched your back, his load filling you up. His body falls on top of yours as he catches his breath. He kisses your sweaty cheek, his cock still buried inside of you. With you in his arms, you fell asleep right away from the ice cream that Charles had made for you.

He chuckled softly as you pass out in his arms, seeing how soft and angelic you were while sleeping and he looks at the tub of ice cream which was left on the coffee table by the both of you, his smile widening.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

#charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #charles leclerc one shot

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satorusugurugurl · 2 months

Text

JJK Men: Seeing You Without Makeup For the First Time

Warning: Fluffy sweetness, insecurities, suggestiveness, language

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Modern!Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento

Word Count: 2,993

A/N: Ah yes, I love this trope. It was fun to write!! Please Enjoy, don't blame me from any cavities from this sweet fluff. Request Open.

Gojo Satoru:

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was the only thing keeping your eyes open. You grumbled and cursed the sun for rising another day as you leaned over the kitchen counter, watching the magic bean juice filling your cup. The higher-ups must not like you because the mission they just sent you on was hell.

A week, a damn week, you were gone. A week from your bed, students, and your boyfriend. Stupid old men and their dumb missions. But who were you to complain if you paid your bills and you were able to teach the next generation of sorcerers? So life wasn't that bad.

Then again, your somewhat happy outlook on life might be the sleep deprivation talking.

The bastards were sweet enough to give you one day to recuperate. There was no time to relax, though. You had laundry to sort through, groceries to pick up, and the normal mundane things you'd missed out on during the WEEK you were gone!

A day off was a day off despite it being a busy one. You would get it all done after you drank this coffee Satoru got you from Mexico on his last mission. As soon as you downed it, you would off. You were already dressed to go. You had on sweats and a t-shirt, and you opted out of putting on any makeup, seeing that you would just be running around.

Your phone chimed as Satoru’s name popped up on your screen. You smiled as you opened the chat.

Satoru: Good morning, beautiful! 😙 Welcome back! I had breakfast delivered to you; enjoy! 🍳🥓🧇

“Oh, he's getting laid later.” You squealed, running for the door to your apartment.

You flung it open, staring at the ground, expecting a bag, but instead, you were greeted by shoes. Designer shoes that you knew all too well. Slowly trailing up dark uniform pants and jacket that was from the same school you worked at. Further up, you caught sight of a wide grin, a blindfold, and fluffy white hair. All of which belongs to your boyfriend, who was holding a takeout bag.

“Special delivery for Y/L/N Y/N!”

Your boyfriend was here. The same boyfriend who was utterly gorgeous no matter what condition he was in. The man could be caked in blood, and you still wanted to kiss him. Then there was you; you always put in the effort to look nice around him, hair styled, cute outfit, some form of makeup always on.

Today was not one of those days.

In a panic, you squeaked, slamming the door in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck!?” You glanced around for anything you could use to hide your appearance. You panicked and grabbed the first thing off the couch.

“Uhm, babe?” Satoru questioned, opening the door. “I know you were gone for a week. But I'm Gojo Satoru, your boyfriend.”

“I know!! Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see you!” you had your back turned to him, covering your face with your hands. “T-Thanks for the food! But I have so much to do!”

“Really?”

“Yep! Laundry!”

“I had Ijichi pick it up this morning.”

Fuuuuck.

“O-Okay! I have to get groceries!”

“Your fridge is fully stocked, courtesy of yours truly.”

The room felt like it was shrinking in on you as you listened to him come up behind you. The bag was discarded as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weren't sure how he would react, seeing your bare face, and that was terrifying.

So many men thought women wearing makeup was like lying. You had always done very light and minimal makeup, but it didn't make it less scary. Sensing the tension, Satoru gently turned you around so you were facing him. He stiffened, his mouth turning from a grin to a shocked expression.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet.

“Y-Yeah?”

A choked laugh erupted from his throat. “I-Is that one of my blindfolded?!” He called as you stated at the darkness his blindfold provided. “Oh my god, hold on! Hold on!” You could feel him near you with the camera on his phone clicking. “Oh my god, wait until the second years see this!” Fingers hooked under the blindfold, yanking it up and off your head.

Your hands flew up, hiding your face. Your attempt was foiled as Satoru's gentle hands pulled them away. With a shuddering sigh, you looked up at him, biting your cheek as he fully saw you. For you, no makeup, fancy clothes, or styled hair.

Satoru just smiled, leaning down before he kissed your lips gently. “Welcome home.” He pulled back, tilting his head to the side. “What was with the off-brand cosplay?” Your cheeks are flushed, the darker pigment visible without any trace of makeup.

“I-I don't have any makeup on.”

“Oh!” He straightened, his large hand patting your head. “You're so cute.”

His grin grew wider at the confused expression inching its way over your face. “Seriously? Do you think that? Even without the makeup and the baggy clothes? You still think I'm cute?” Satoru’s head bobbed up and down so fast you thought his head would fall out. His sincere reaction made you giggle, shaking your head. “Satoru, you are so strange. But also extremely sweet.” When you looked up, you blinked, seeing Gojo holding up one side of his blindfold. His bright blue eye looked you over, inching over every curve and surface of you. “Satoru, stop staring.”

“I just was confirming something.” he snapped his blindfold back into place before draping an arm over you.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee while Satoru pulled your breakfast out of the bag. “Confirming what?”

“Just confirming with Six-Eyes that I have the prettiest girlfriend in the entire world.”

Gojo’s smile slowly faded as you slammed the coffee pot down. Oh fuck, what did he say?! You led around; fire swarmed in Y/E/C eyes as you stormed over to him, grabbing his wrist.

“W-What?! What did I say?” He huffed out a gasp as you shoved him onto the couch.

“Everything.”

You unzipped his pants, and Gojo’s eyes were wide behind his blindfold. Even with Six-Eyes, Gojo did not see this coming. Spoiler alert: It was him, he was going to cum.

Choso Kamo:

A knock at your door had you straightening from your spot on the couch. Looking at your phone, you quickly got up. It was well past midnight, and it was never a good sign when someone knocked that late at night on the door.

Much to your relief, when you opened the door to your apartment, your boyfriend looked down at you. “Choso?” a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked before entering your apartment.

“No, I think you just saved me a stiff neck.” You yawned out before locking the door. “Did you and Yuuji finish up with that mission?”

“Yes, he went back home; I wanted to see you.”

Choso watched as you moved around the apartment. You straightened up the pillows on the couch and wiped down your kitchen before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom. The entire time you went about your mundane tasks, Choso just stared. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was different about you.

Choso’s eyes moved over you. Trying to depict what was different tonight. Haircut? No. New pajamas? No, that wasn't it, either. Everything Choso tried to think of wasn't the right answer. Not knowing what it was frustrated him to the point that Choso’s eyebrow twitched.

What had you glowing in the lowlights of your bedroom as you pulled the sheets back? “Cho?” You finally asked with a nervous chuckle. “Are you okay? You're staring holes through me.” Realizing that he had been caught, Choso flinched.

“I'm sorry, sorry I just—” Words trailed off as his cheeks flushed.

You had noticed Choso staring at you since he came inside. The poor guy never saw you without makeup, which was probably strange. He seemed to be struggling, trying to find the words to the mountain of questions he might have.

“It's okay. I think I know what you're going to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re going to ask what’s different.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I look different because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Choso tilted his head to the side.”Oh, no, I was going to say you look radiant tonight.” The words that left his mouth had both of you standing in silence.

You just eyed Choso as he smiled, nodding his head like he'd figured out the mystery of what was different. Pleased with his conclusion, he helped you pull the sheets back. His hands smoothed out the covers before he peered up at you. You were blushing, smiling ear to ear as you finished pulling the bed back.

“I just finished doing my skincare routine,” you announced as you crawled into bed after Choso showered. “I have a new serum that is supposed to make you look luminescent.”

Choso studied you carefully as he crawled into bed with you. “Mmm, maybe that’s it.” He pulled you into his arms. “Or maybe it’s just me.” Choso hummed, staring into the face that he loved so much. “Falling in love.” Love?! “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what this is.”

That was the reasoning behind your radiant glow. A glow that always surrounded you no matter what you wore or looked like. Choso saw utter perfection in you. So it only made sense that the reason you looked extra stunning was that he had fallen in love with you even more.

You just snuggled closer into his chest, grinning wide as he yawned. “I love you too, Cho.”

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes before chaos erupted in Sukuna’s apartment. He had just finished changing when he heard the commotion. Yuuji and Choso were bickering before you gently tried to break up the argument. The next thing he heard was a scream, your scream, to be exact.

He bolted, running into the kitchen, where he found you wiping at your face. “What the fuck?!” His younger brothers both stood in shock, watching you in fear. Yuuji was holding a box of baking soda, and Choso held a bottle of vinegar.

In the center of the kitchen was the volcano experiment you had been helping Yuuji make. Sukuna was able to put it all together in an instant. He didn't bother yelling. He instead lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

“What the hell happened?” You flinched when you felt a warm, wet rag gently cleaning your face off.

“The boys wanted to see how big of an explosion they could make. But you know the boys, they both were arguing about who should do what. Words were said, contents were thrown into a beaker, and I didn't have my safety goggles on.”

Sukuna sighed, continuing to rub off the mess on your face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

“Nope!” Your confident response had your boyfriend chuckling as he wiped more of the foamy goop off your face.

After about five minutes of wiping and rinsing the rag, Sukuna sat on the tub's edge, examining your face. It was without the small amount of makeup you had on and the lighting of the bathroom that he stared at you. You were stunning, gorgeous in everything. But here in the bathroom, his eyes mapped out your face.

“What happened here?” he asked, fingertips pressing against a small scar under your eye.

Thinking it was food coloring, you turned to the mirror, seeing your bare face. “EH?!” You touched it, groaning as you looked back at your boyfriend, who was smirking. “You wiped off all my makeup!” For a second, Sukuna thought he was dealing with a third child in his apartment.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want to have vinegar on your face?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought. So confess what happened there?”

“Acne scar.”

A soft him rumbled in his chest before he learned over, thumb grazing over a tiny scar at the bottom of your lip. “This?” gentle fingers moved up, brushing over your bottom lip as he stepped closer towards you.

“I-I fell off my bike.”

You swallowed hard, whimpering as Sukuna’s fingers grazed over your face. You were feeling how soft your delicate skin was. All of you mesmerized him. Every time you came over, he learned a little more about you. And god, he fuckin’ loved that.

His hands gently mapped your face out. The softness had you breathing heavily, his eyes glued to your lips. Having your boyfriend gaze over you with such a soft yet burning gaze had you shifting. The air in the bathroom became thick with need as he slowly slipped your tank top sleeve down.

“Y/N, let me see all of you. I want to map out your body and learn everything it has to say.”

“W-What’s gotten into you?”

The whisper tone of your voice had Sukuna sliding the other sleeve of your tank top down. “You. You’ve crept your way into my heart.” The confession that spilled from his lips has you leaning in, wanting him to touch you everywhere. The same way he had touched your face.

“Hey, is she okay?” Choso’s timid voice whispered through the door. “Yuuji’s worried.”

“Take Yuuji out for ice cream.” Your tank top is slowly pulled over your head. “My card is on my dresser.”

Silence spreads out as you tug Sukuna’s shirt up and off. “R-Really?” hands began working on jeans.

“Yes, I have my own project to work on.” Sukuna turned the shower on, and he never heard Choso collecting Yuuji so fast. Refusing to answer any questions as the door to the apartment slammed shut.

Sukuna’s antics had you giggling, licking your lip, and he stripped you completely. “A project, huh?” he nodded, following you into the shower.

“Yeah, but it won't be vinegar foam that covers that pretty face this time.”

Nanami Kento:

The hotel sheets were cold and crisp over your and your boyfriend's bodies. Between the chill and the heat Nanami was putting out, you felt so comfortable. It was the perfect combination that made you want to relish the feeling forever.

The sun was up, which meant you both would be going home soon. You both had been called out on a mission, one that took a bit longer to handle than you both were anticipating. You missed the last train back to Tokyo. Leaving you both stranded in Kawasaki for the night.

Instead of having one of the assistant supervisors drive all the way out to get you, you and Nanami decided to stay at a hotel. God, it was nice: room service, wine, a hot shower. Missing that last train was a reward for the two of you. Nothing more than relaxation and joy. But the moment Nanami pulled you tighter against him, you realized you didn't have your overnight bag.

Meaning you didn't have your makeup.

“Oh no, oh god no.” You whined as Nanami lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?” His groggy voice asked, trying to assess what was going on.

Burying your face in your pillow, you grumbled, cringing as you felt Nanami shift beside you. “I don't have my bag.” The covers move as Nanami props himself up.

“Your overnight bag?”

“Mhmm.”

Silence stretched out. “Did you need something out of it? Aspirin or tampons? I'll go grab you some.” The sincerity of his words made your heart soar. God, Nanami was the best boyfriend.

“No, no, I'm okay.” You shyly turned, swallowing hard. “I just realized you've never seen me without makeup.”

Nanami’s gaze was soft; honey-brown eyes slowly roamed over your face. He took his time, his hand reaching out, knuckles grazing your cheek. It was so gentle and sweet that you pressed yourself against his hand. The warmth spreads to every part of your body.

The bed shifts as Nanami’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer. “You are still as stunning in the morning bare-faced as you are all dolled up.” Before you could even think of what to say in response, his lips were on yours.

His lips were warm, like a spring day. You moaned happily, kissing him back as his hands slowly ran down your arms. Breaking the kiss, had you pouting with a displeased groan that shifted into a moan. Those warm lips slowly moved down your face. Nanami was trailing the softest, warmest kisses down your body, over your shoulders and upper arm.

“I want to see all of you.” Hot breath whispered over your skin. “See every part of you, body, mind, and soul in the raw.”

Soft kisses were replaced with gentle nips. The sensation had you arching your back as Nana crawled on top of you. His morning wood was pressing against your hip. It felt like you were melting into the mattress as the once-comfortable room suddenly became too warm. The need to get naked grew stronger and stronger.

“Kento~”

He didn't respond. He was too busy being love-drunk off of you. His fingers, lips, and teeth slowly mapped out every part of your body. Nanami’s actions left you a squirming mess underneath him. One that he was so pleased to see and feel.

Only once you were gasping for air, gripping his shirt, begging him for more, did Nanami finally pull back, taking his shirt off. “Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing that's graced this world, Y/N.” You sat up, pulling him into a starved kiss as he took your shorts off. Limbs entangling as he gently laid you down.

And yes, you missed the morning train. . .and the afternoon train. . .poor Ijichi had to pick you up.

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sweetiecutie · 8 months

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Pairing: König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, periods sex, blood play but not really(?), softie König

A/n: very self-indulgent. My periods are as tough as ever and there’s no one to comfort me, so I guess I’ll have to do it myself🥲

König didn’t really know much about periods. Well, of course he knew what menstruation is and that every woman has it once a month, but that was pretty much it. So when you started dating poor guy saw how things really were in female world.

He noticed how moody you would become a week prior your periods, how snappy you’d react to his harmless teasing. König noted your craving for sweets as well, and how angry and sad you’d be over a few pimples that appeared so unwelcomed on your precious face. And König felt truly sorry for you - it was clear as day that you were a hormonal mess, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help you, no matter how much he wanted to.

And then your periods finally came. König watched you get up suddenly from your spot on the couch, rushing straight to the bathroom. He was a bit confused - you were all snuggled up together, watching a movie you picked - did something happen? He knocked on the bathroom door softly, asking if everything was good - a few moments later you opened the door, sour expression on your face as you scrunch up the wrap from the pad. “Yeah, my periods started” you mumbled begrudgingly, your lips pulled in a small pout.

König who just couldn’t bear seeing his precious baby in pain, did everything in his power to comfort you. He wrapped his warm strong arms around your frail form, cuddling you into his chest. His fingers grazed gently the soft skin of your tummy where it ached, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, scattering small kisses wherever he could reach.

König did his research on how to ease menstrual pains. Painkillers, massage, yoga. But what particularly caught his attention - almost every article he’d read said that orgasm is a great way to get rid of cramps - not only healthy but pleasurable as well. So of course he suggested you just that.

König was so sad to see you this fearful and hesitant - “Baby, it’ll make a huge mess. Everything will be covered in blood and I don’t want you to get yourself dirty and-“ you rambled on, his eyes growing wide with every word you said. “Y/n, what are you even talking about?” He interrupted you softly, huge hands coming to cup your cheeks and he looks into your eyes deeply.

“Do you really think a bit of blood will stop me from fucking my amazing sexy girl? If you don’t want this - it’s okay, but please don’t think that I’m disgusted by you bleeding” he said it so earnestly, kissing both of your cheeks reassuringly. König hated the idea of you being self-conscious about absolutely natural processes in your body. So when you nodded shyly, slightly spreading your legs for him to settle in between them, König couldn’t contain a wide grin, even while kissing you passionately.

So with a thick towel under your hips, König got to work - lapping away at your poor pussy, smearing a mixture of your blood, slick and his own saliva all over his cheeks, gazing up at you drunkenly, moaning into your folds at the taste and smell of you. His fingers gently pumped in and out of your sopping cunt, marveling at the wetness blood provided, how easily three of his thick digits slipped into your sensitive cunny.

And only after making you cum on his mouth two times, König decided to fully indulge you, getting his heavy cock out of his boxers. With gentle move of his hips he sunk right into your velvety warmth, penetration as easy as ever due to blood lubrication. He went as gentle as ever, noting how overly sensitive you were - way more than usual. König made sure to not go too deep, to not disturb your poor uterus even more.

König was so sweet, rubbing your clit non-stop, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of your soft beautiful body. He scattered kisses all over your neck and chest, careful to not graze your sore from hormones nipples. And only when you couldn’t take no more - a trembling sweaty mess in his loving arms, babbling and whimpering deliriously, he allowed himself to finally cum on your twitching tummy.

König fucked you so good it took you several minutes to regain consciousness - with bleary eyes you looked up to him, your breath hitching slightly. Here was your boyfriend sitting next to you, grinning from ear to ear; lower half of his face was completely covered in dried blood, his hands and lower stomach glistening with dark red. That would definitely look terrifying if you didn’t know what exactly he was just doing.

“So how are your cramps?” He asked, his white teeth contrasting with brownish-red on his cheeks and lips. You closed your eyes in exhaustion, sinking deeper into soft pillows.

“Gone” you said, making König’s smile brighten impossibly more.

And yes, he’d definitely joke about being a vamp from this day on🙄

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off feedback<3

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skbeaumont · 1 month

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Just a Graze | Joel x Reader oneshot

One-shot Joel/Reader. Previously posted in two parts but thought I'd make a masterpost for this one.

Summary: Joel comes back injured, and while you patch him up the tension that's been building for several months threatens to break.

Tags/warnings: dirty talk, explicit content, language, injury detail (not explicit), MDNI, sexual tension, PIV, oral (F receiving), FILTH

Word Count: 4.3k

Joel’s bleeding when he gets back. The screen door clatters shut behind him, wire shuddering against the wood, and you look up from the table. His face is set, a solid frown painted across his features – nothing unusual – but there’s a downward turn to his mouth that you recognise as a pained expression. He steps in and leans against the counter, one hand on the warped wood, the other pressed against his shoulder. Blood seeps through his fingers, clotting around his knuckles, staining his jacket red.

“I’m okay,” he says as you spring up from your place at the dusty kitchen table, “it’s just a graze.”

“Bullet?” You ask, ignoring his attempts to wave off your concern.

“Barbed wire,” he says, letting you lead him further into the cabin, toward the misshapen couch, “stupid mistake, I didn’t see it.”

The shotgun clatters onto the floor at his feet as he collapses onto the couch with a groan. He doesn’t protest as you pull his fist away from the wound, your hand warm against his wind-chilled fingers. The cut isn’t deep, but the wire has torn through his jacket and shirt down to the flesh of his shoulder, leaving a jagged cut that’s oozing blood.

“You must be getting old,” you say, standing to search through your pack for the first aid kit, “your eyes are going as well as your ears.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my eyes. Or my ears.”

“Sorry?”

“I said, there-” he notices your grin, the glint of mischief in your eye. He sighs heavily. “You’re a damn pain in my ass.”

You huff out a laugh and pull a kitchen chair across to sit opposite him. You open the first aid kit – which is really no more than a small washbag stuffed with a bottle of Lysol and a handful of bandages – on your lap, pull out the disinfectant and start unscrewing the cap. “Can you take your jacket off?” You ask, and he nods, starts unzipping it and pulling it off of his uninjured arm. He winces a little as he peels it past his bad shoulder, shakes it down his arm and lays it over his lap, frowning at the gash in the fabric.

“I can patch that up when we get back to Jackson.” You say.

“Ain’t going back ‘til we’ve something to bring back.” He replies, and now it’s your turn to sigh.

“We’ve got two deer and a whole family of rabbits, Joel. There’s nothing else out here for us to get.”

“We both saw that clinic complex, and I ain’t arguing with you about this again. Winter’s well on its way, and we need as much medicine as we can get to make it through. I almost got in today – would have, if I hadn’t got caught on that damned barbed wire. We’ll both go back tomorrow.”

He fixes you with a hard stare, one that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, though whether it’s through fear or something else, you’re not sure. You’ve been partnering up for a couple of months now, going out on hunts and supply runs, growing slowly closer over long hikes and cold nights camping out under the stars.

At first, he intimidated you. He was cold, harsh; a solid bulk of a man who never smiled and rarely spoke, except to tell you to keep your voice down or stop walking so loudly. But then, gradually, he’d started loosening up around you. A few weeks ago he’d cracked a smile at a joke you’d made – something stupid about a bird in a tree, the kind of joke your dad used to make when you were a kid – and then that smile had grown into a deep chuckle a couple of days later, and then a conversation, whispered and illusive, under a starry sky last week.

This latest trip outside Jackson had been the most enjoyable yet, conversation flowing easily between you, and you were starting to suspect that the strange swooping feeling in your stomach that arose each time he looked at you, or bumped against you as you walked had a lot less to do with how intimidating he could be, and a lot more to do with him.

Now, locking eyes with him over the opened bottle of Lysol, his eyes dark and with an argument boiling up between you, that feeling blossoms into something hot and delicious, stirring a fire in your belly that makes you bold.

“From where I’m sat,” you say, tipping the bottle of Lysol so that the disinfection pours out onto a clean swab, “you don’t seem to have much choice about what we’re doing next. You’re hurt, and I need to patch you up, so stop arguing and take your shirt off.”

He opens his mouth to argue but shuts it again, eyes flicking up to your face. A hint of red creeps up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, tinging them scarlet in the low light of the cabin. You keep glaring at him. He lets out a long breath through his nose and moves to unbutton his shirt. The shirt is old, vintage, even – probably older than you – with mismatched buttons and a crumpled, frayed look. It comes apart easily, Joel’s fingers working down the buttons nimbly until he reaches the bottom. He pauses there, looks up at your face. You look away, because heat is creeping up your own neck now, hot and unbridled, as he pushes the shirt off of his shoulders and lets it fall open onto the couch behind him.

After his dark eyes, the most notable thing about Joel is his stature. He’s tall, and broad enough to fill any room he’s in. You’ve seen him lift grown men like they weigh nothing, watched him pick up a dead deer and throw it over one shoulder without so much as a stumble. Last month you went out on horseback to scope a potential hunting ground, and, sitting behind him in the saddle, you couldn’t see anything past the triangular bulk of his shoulders, your hands clasped easily around his waist. So, yeah, you know he’s strong, could tell anyone that the man is built. But when you look at him in the half-light with his shirt off, uncovered by layers of leather or plaid, the sight still sends blood rushing to your face.

His shoulders are broad, curving into thick biceps that tense as he raises a hand to scratch, self-consciously, at the back of his neck. There are small scars littering his chest, running down in narrow white slices to his belly, which is softer than the rest of him, sloping and scattered with coarse hair that continues below the buckle of his belt. You want to press your face into it, kiss the contours of his bellybutton and the plains of his chest, up to the juncture of his throat, which bobs as he swallows, eyes shifting to catch yours.

“You gonna patch me up or just stare?” He asks, and there’s something teasing in his voice, something that causes heat and slick to pool in between your thighs. “I- you’ve got a lot of scars.” You say, stupidly, tipping more Lysol onto the cloth you’re holding.

“Had a lot of run-ins with barbed wire.” He replies, the words turning to a hiss when you press the wet cloth to the cut on his shoulder.

“Should be more careful.”

“Now where would the fun be in that, darlin’?”

Oh, that’s new. You’ve heard him call Ellie pet names before, laughed when she rolls her eyes and shirks away from his affections, all fifteen years old and too cool to be coddled. But he’s never called you anything but your name – never so much as shortened it to a nickname like almost everyone else does. You flick your gaze from his wound to his face. His eyes are dark, expression unreadable, but the intensity of his gaze makes you look away, cheeks reddening. You pull the cloth away from his arm and start wrapping a clean bandage around his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says, after a pause. “I forget, sometimes. Recently.”

“Forget what?”

“That you’re young enough to be my-” He cuts himself off here, “that you’re a hell of a lot younger’n I am.”

This makes you laugh out loud, a huff of breath exhaled. You’re still opposite each other, him on the sofa, knees spread wide, you in the kitchen chair. If you inched forward only slightly your own legs would be between his.

“Old days I’d have been old enough to drink and drive, and more than old enough to flirt, Joel.”

“That what you want? You want me to flirt with you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper.

You shrug and hold his gaze. “I think it’s what you want too. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you.”

You have. He thinks he’s being discrete, but you’ve seen how his eyes linger on your legs, how he can’t help but drop his gaze to your chest when you wear something low cut. A few weeks ago you’d seen him adjust himself in his jeans when you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in a stream you’d come across after two days out searching for supplies.

“And how’s that?” He asks. You have to hold yourself back from leaning forward and kissing the worried crease of his mouth.

“Like you’re a man dying of thirst and I’m an oasis.”

He scoffs at that. “Shoulda been a writer, sweetheart.”

“And how does this story end?”

“Ends with you walking away from me like you should’ve months ago. This,” he flicks a finger at himself and then you, “ain’t happening.”

“Why not? You want it, I want it. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Problem is,” he slides his arms off the sofa, reaching back to pull his shirt back up over his shoulders, “you think you know what you want, but you don’t.” He starts buttoning the shirt, fixing you with a stern look. “Trust me.”

He tries to stand but you put your hands on his knees, holding him in place.

“No way,” You say, your heart thumping in your chest, “you don’t get to decide what I do or don’t want.”

“What do you want? You want me to fuck you? Want me to spread your pretty little legs out across this couch and make you come on my tongue?”

Yes. God, yes.

“What if I do? What if that’s exactly what I want you to do?” You slide your hands further up his legs, holding him down on the couch. If he wanted to, he could push you off easily, but he doesn’t. When your fingertips reach the tops of his thighs he slides his hands over your wrists and pins them where they are, stopping you moving any higher.

“Find someone your own age, sweetheart. Someone whose knees don’t creak when the stand up. Someone who can make you happy.” And then he’s standing up, moving your hands off of him with ease, stepping around you in the kitchen chair to stride to the other side of the room, the tension collapsing in on itself as he tells you to get some sleep, that there’s more work to do tomorrow.

*****

The next morning brings rain. It hammers against the walls of the cabin and drips in through the leaky roof. Joel stands at the window, one hand on his hip, silently looking out at the downpour.

“Tell me you’re not considering going out in this?” You say, moving up behind him to peer out at the lashing rain.

“Might ease up later.” He says, turning to face you. “There’s enough to do in here to keep us occupied, anyway.”

“Guns?” You ask.

“Guns.” He agrees.

Joel’s fanatical about keeping the guns clean and working. It makes sense, you suppose. You don’t know much about his past, about how he and Ellie ended up in Jackson, but what you’ve heard, the snippets Ellie’s confided in you over quiet conversations, makes for grim listening. To Joel, those guns mean the difference between life and death.

And so you both sit at the kitchen table, meticulously cleaning Joel’s shotgun and your pistol, passing cloths and gun oil between you. You make casual conversation as you go, neither of you touching on the events of the previous evening. After he dismissed you last night you’d gone straight to bed, tucked yourself into the dusty single bed in the bedroom while Joel took the couch. Your dreams had been hazy and pleasant, and you’d woken up flushed.

You’re sliding the magazine back into your pistol when Joel jumps and swears, pulling his hand back from where he’s trapped his finger in the loading mechanism of the shotgun. A tiny bead of blood wells up and spills over his fingertip and he sighs heavily. You reach out and take his hand in yours to examine the cut. It's tiny - you've seen paper-cuts do more damage - but Joel's frowning like he's in pain.

“You’ve gotta stop being so clumsy.” You say.

“I’m not clumsy.” He replies, letting you turn his hand in yours, watching you watch his thick fingers, take in the breadth of his knuckles.

“No?”

“No. It’s-”

You're not sure what makes you do it - maybe it's frustration still boiling over from yesterday, maybe it's the way Joel looks at you as you clasp his large hand in your own smaller one - but before he can finish speaking you pull his arm across the table and wrap your lips around his finger. You snake your tongue over the pad of the digit and the noise he makes then - a breathy, broken groan - sends fire surging through you, heat coiling between your thighs.

“Distraction.” He finishes.

When you pull your mouth away and place a wet kiss to the palm of his hand, he slides his fingers across your jaw and up into the mess of your hair. His hand is hot against your scalp, curving around the back of your neck, leading you forward so that he can fit his mouth against yours across the table.

Pleasure flutters out from the pull of his fingers in your hair, and his lips are soft and dry until he opens his mouth to you, guiding your tongue into his mouth, pressing his into yours. It’s slow at first. Tentative, as though he’s waiting for you to push him away. But you’ve never wanted anything more, and when you moan against his lips he stands, bracketing your face with both hands to pull you up from your own chair.

It’s a messy walk backwards from the table. You bump against the broken coffee table, pull away from his mouth to curse and rub your shin, but then he’s falling back onto the couch, pulling you down into his lap so that your thighs are bracketing his legs.

You pause like that, looking at each other, both breathless and dazed, lips bruised.

“This what you want?” He asks again, placing his hand at your jaw gently. His fingers are thick, hand so large that his thumb rests at your temple and while his index finger sits under your chin.

“I want you, Joel. Please.”

When he kisses you again, it’s hungry and animalistic. All pretence of hesitation is gone. He presses his mouth to your throat, lets his teeth scrape the delicate skin below your ear.

“This is still a bad idea.” He says, voice breaking when you roll your hips against his. ”Shit.”

“Please, Joel.” Your voice sounds tiny, shrill to your own ears, desperate and pathetic, but Joel bites at the juncture of your neck and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except the feel of his hands on your hips, guiding you against him, pulling your clothed cunt against where he’s impossibly hard in his jeans.

“I’m gonna take this off.” He says, pulling at your shirt, tugging it up over your head. “And this.” He runs a hand over your covered tit, pinches your nipple beneath the thin fabric of your bra, rolls it between his finger and thumb while his other hand slides up your back and unclasps it. It falls between you, forgotten immediately.

“Fuck, darlin’, look at you.” He says, running the knuckle of his index finger over the swell of your chest, down along your ribs and across one hip. He lets his hand fall away, brings it back up to the side of your face, pulls your lips back to his and drags your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

Pain and pleasure blossom through you, make you scrabble at the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking as you try and get them undone. He helps, slides the shirt off of his back, careful where his shoulder is still sore. He balls it up and casts it across the room, then grips your hips and lifts you, turning you onto your back on the sofa, pressing himself between your open thighs. The change in angle presses the seam of your jeans against your clit, a jolt of pleasure rocking through you.

“You ever done this before?” He asks, hovering over you, dipping down to press a chaste kiss against your collarbone.

“I ain’t that innocent, Joel.” You reply, gasping when he pulls your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. “Have you?”

This earns you a deep chuckle, a hushed whisper against the back of your neck, “I’ve been doing this since before you were born, baby.”

And, fuck, that shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. It has your hips lifting up, seeking out friction. Joel notices and slides down your body, dropping onto his knees on the floor. He runs one hand up the inside of your thigh, presses his thumb expertly against your covered clit.

“I’m gonna take these off now, and then you’re gonna come on my tongue. That sound okay?”

You nod, voice lost as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls them down in one motion, pushing them away in the direction of his discarded shirt.

“Look how wet you are for me already.” He glides two fingers over the front of your soaked underwear, up to the waistband to hook them off.

And then he leans forward, presses light kisses up your thighs until he reaches your cunt. He pauses, blows a cool strip of air against you that has you trying to close your legs, but his hands are there, pinning them open for him. When he seals his lips over your clit and drags his tongue over it you thread your fingers through his hair, pull at the black-grey strands. You squeeze your eyes shut but he pulls away, chastises you gently.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten chocolate, rich and dark, pulling you back so that you gaze down at him.

He swipes his tongue over your slit, gathers the slick that’s pooling there. He’s like a man possessed, eyes dark, hair standing up on end from where you’ve run your hands through it, cursing and moaning as he slides his tongue over your clit, starting up a firm and consistent rhythm that has you bucking against him. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his forearms corded with muscle, biceps flexing up to those impossibly broad shoulders.

“You gonna come on my tongue?” He asks, hardly breaking away from you to grunt out the question.

“Yes, Joel, fuck, please.” You can’t seem to form a coherent sentence, can hardly force yourself to keep your eyes on him where he kneels between your thighs like you’re an altar and he’s a lonely priest begging for repentance. It’s this thought – the idea of him worshipping you, tongue lapping over your clit, his eyes blazing with lust – that tips you over the edge. Your cunt clenches around nothing, body wracked with pleasure as you come, hard, on his tongue. He grins into your cunt as he feels you come apart against him, continues pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your pussy as you come down from the high, limbs shaking. When you finally push him away, overly sensitive and buzzing with pleasure, he rocks back on his heels, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Your pleasure is painted across his face, his greying stubble wet with your slick.

He crawls back up onto the couch between your thighs, dips his head to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lip; on his tongue when he sweeps it against the back of your teeth, heady and sweet. He presses himself against you, drags the front of his jeans over your bare skin. The buckle of his belt catches against your bare stomach and you hiss into his mouth, reach down to unbuckle it. It comes off easily, falls to the floor with a dull thud, and then you slip your fingers through the buttons of his jeans, undo them quickly, desperate to get them off. He stands briefly, pushes them the rest of the way down his thick thighs and then kneels back between your legs. Immediately you slide your hand into the waistband of his briefs. He feels like velvet wrapped around steel, hot and delicious in your fist. He groans into your mouth as you palm him desperately, sliding delicate skin over the head of him, feathering the pad of your thumb against his slit. When you draw his cock out you break away from his needy mouth to look. He’s big: thick, curving slightly to the left, head already weeping precum.

“Fist feels so good wrapped around my cock, sweetheart.” He tells you, “You gonna let me fuck you?”

It’s the easiest yes you’ve ever given. He chuckles darkly at your needy reply, pushes his briefs the rest of the way off and wraps his own fist around his cock. He slides himself over your cunt, coating himself in your juices. Then he’s notching the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, sucking in a breath as he pushes in gently, slowly, stretching you out deliciously.

“Good girl,” He murmurs, easing himself deeper, feeling you flex and clench around him, “good fucking girl.”

He stills when he’s fully seated inside you, sucks at a spot under your jaw that makes you gasp with pleasure, runs one big palm up your body to paw at your breast, trying to collect himself, twitching inside you with the effort of staying still.

“Cunt’s so goddamn tight, baby.” His voice is broken, pitchy and breathy against your ear.

You run your hands over his back, feeling out the breadth of his shoulders, the thin scars that lace across them, his muscles bunching and flexing beneath your fingers when he finally – finally – starts to move inside you, rocking his hips into yours, dragging himself all the way out and then gliding back in. The head of his cock hits something inside you that sends white hot pleasure jolting through your belly. The cabin is silent now – the rain has stopped – the only sounds are your frantic breathing and low, breathy moans, and Joel’s whispered praises as he rocks against you.

Good girl, so fucking good for me, letting me fuck you like this, cunt so tight around me, could come just thinking about it.

It’s dirty and sloppy and fucking incredible. The power you’ve seen him exert on infected and drunkards and raiders suddenly coiled over you, his muscles pulling you taunt against him when he changes the angle, sits up, pulls you with him so that you’re riding him, his cock somehow buried deeper in your cunt, your thighs bracketing him. You can feel yourself growing closer to release again, pleasure notching up in your belly like fire spreading. Joel shifts slightly again, makes space for his hand to come between you, places his thumb against your clit and presses, draws out slow, gentle circles that match the pace of his thrusts.

“Need my thumb on you clit while my cock’s buried inside you, sweetheart? Gonna come again just like this, huh? Dirty fucking girl.”

His words are like fuel on the fire and within seconds you’re moaning and shaking, cunt clenching around him as you come, harder than before, on his cock. Joel fucks you through it, keeps the steady pressure on your clit.

“Gonna make me come in this tight little pussy,” He says, and you know you shouldn’t, know you should make him pull out, but he feels so good inside you that you grind down on him telling him yes, please, fist your hands into his hair to pull his mouth against yours. The kiss is desperate and messy, all teeth and tongue. He hisses into your mouth as you buck your hips and drive them down on him, and then he’s swearing, fingers digging hard into your hips.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking good, baby, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna- shit.” He pulses inside you, painting your cunt with his come, hot and wet inside you.

You continue rocking against each other, slowly, coming down from the high. When he slides out of you and shifts away the old sofa groans out in protest, springs creaking. It makes you laugh, breathless, racking laughter than drives away the sudden realisation of what you’ve just done, of how you’ve indelibly changed the way you look at each other, the relationship between you.

“That was… fucking hell, Joel, that was incredible.”

He’s looking at you sideways, his hair still a mess, stubble still coated with your slick. He’s naked and vulnerable and you think it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. When he leans across to slot his lips against yours you grin against him, trying not to think about what happens next.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic

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irndad · 2 months

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a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?”

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with.

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them.

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks.

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me.

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response.

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it.

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office.

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief.

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share.

He does not want to call Maeve.

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess.

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it.

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now.

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this.

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him.

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up.

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount.

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable.

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life.

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back.

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits.

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back.

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything.

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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roosterr · 9 months

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Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines.

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

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luveline · 2 months

Note

You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.”

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could.

“You’re not saying hi anymore?”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.”

He looks up tentatively. “You have?”

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.”

“Why?” Spencer asks.

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.”

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.”

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.”

“And stuff.”

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.”

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone.

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks.

“What are you enjoying lately?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?”

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.”

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse.

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail.

“Hug?” you ask hopefully.

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear.

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly.

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second.

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?”

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.”

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?”

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him.

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger.

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.”

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.”

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face.

“Nothing,” Spencer says.

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.”

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases.

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart.

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