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cosmicschmidt · 6 months

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UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here…?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #x reader #part 2?#fanfic #hunger games x reader #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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k-hotchoisan · 8 months

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Seven minutes in Heaven, but make it San (san x fem!reader)

He knows he fucked up so instead of seven minutes of heaven, you give him seven minutes of hell.

//different au from mingi’s 🌹//

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, sub! Choi san x dom! Reader, orgasm denial, edging, choking, unprotected sex, blowjobs, handjobs; maybe I need a job, so much cum 🩷

Word count: 2.4K

A/n: holy fuck this was filthy. Some Angel wanted a San version of seven minutes in heaven so here you go, pretty. Enjoy the filth 🩷

San knew he fucked up. The moment his friends peer pressured him into choosing between two girls during truth or dare, he knew he was fucked. He hastily chose one of the girl’s name within the circle, and she blushed. She fucking blushed. Well, in his defence, it was a truth question, and that no one knew about you and San’s relationship, at least not yet, because he told you he was going to announce it during the gathering.

But now in this circle of sins he was in, kinda gave him not much of a choice, and before he realised it, her name just slips out of his mouth, and your mood immediately darkens. You very well knew the kind of friends he has when they play drinking games, and they definitely loved the thrill of burning bridges and matching couples, sometimes a little too much. The once bubbly and innocent persona of you dims when the possessiveness starts seeping in. You smile, of course you do, but it was nothing angelic nor innocent about the smile, it was dripping with pure poison. Your eyes lock onto San and he’s definitely struggling to meet your gaze, his neck and face flushed from the alcohol and his mistake.

San takes the bottle and spins it, the bottle landing on said girl he picked. You lean back, your smile still plastered as you stare daggers into him. She giggles as she chooses dare and of course, they dare her and San make out. San’s eyes widen in fear, as his eyes dart to yours, and your expression stays the same—an eyebrow raise and a pissed smile. It’s like a warning—almost a dare for him fucking try.

The girl only laughs and declines, stating that she has a slight flu, and she opts for a hug instead. Well, not any better but lesser of the two evils at least. She embraces San into a hug and the room erupts into cheers and laughter.

Everyone but you.

You swear to the heavens that you were not a jealous person, just a tad bit possessive. Jealousy and possessiveness were two totally different concepts. And possessiveness mattered in the nature of your relationship.

When the group finally calms down, she spins the bottle, landing right at you. You feign surprise, almost honoured that the bottle chose you next. You don’t hesitate to say “Dare”, with a pretty smile on your face.

“Confident aren’t you?” Mingi teases, nudging your arm. You shrug with a smile, wondering what shit your friends were gonna throw to you.

“Seven minutes in heaven”, Yeosang exclaims. “With a guy of your choice.” You raise your eyebrows. A fucking god given chance.

San feels himself getting more nervous as he starts to wonder if you would pull a random guy in just to get back at him. He knows he done fucked up, but you’d never do that, right?

“Choi San”, you pick, after pretending to take your time think, your gaze never leaving his. San’s heartbeat quickens because he doesn’t expect it. He’s relieved that you chose him but oh god, you sure do look pissed.

Your arm snakes around his as you stare down at the girl, with a look of confusion plastered on her face as you smile and say, “sorry babe, I’m borrowing him for a bit.”

The moment the doors close behind the both of you, San is immediately pushed onto the bed by you. His eyes are wide with fear, and something else—exhilaration. He’s wondering what you’re gonna do to him and that makes his cock harden so fucking quick, and your gaze never leaving his as you strip right in front of him just adding on to the arousal.

He’s splayed onto the bed, slightly panting as he continues to stare at you removing every piece of clothing cleanly before walking over to pull off his cargo pants, his boxers already starting to soak from the precum. You straddle him once his pants are on the floor.

“Baby I-“ and his sentence gets cut short when your fingers grab his jaw to pull him close for an aggressive kiss, one that makes San’s head float and his cock even harder. He’s totally melting under your touch and dominance.

He whines as you pull back, your hand still clenching his jaw. He’s breathless, so blown away by the quick make out session.

“So, you picked her?” You pout, your fingers now trailing down his neck, feeling each beautiful bump of his veins and arteries. Your touch is so light that it makes San feel sensitive as he shivers.

“I don’t! I promise babe, it was nothing serious. You know how my friends are when we drink-fuck. Besides, they don’t know we’re together”, he runs his mouth, and you remove his top before palming his erection, causing him to groan.

“Really now? The hug must have felt great right? Someone else’s tits just pressing onto yours, it probably felt fucking amazing for a slut like you”, you hum tracing down his chiseled body, so tempted to fucking squeeze his tits. Your eyes flutter back to his as he continues to deny that, despite the way you said it only causing him to harden even more.

“N-no. It’s not like t-that”, he barely manages as you press the fabric of his underwear onto his leaking tip, and rub, watching San lose his grip on reality.

“Sannie”, you call out as your hand caresses his cheek with utmost poison, as San looks back at you with a glazed look. “Good boys don’t lie.”

San knows he’s not allowed to touch you, unless you allow him to, and he feels his heart hammering in his ears, dizzy from trying to figure out what you’re trying to get at.

“I’m not lying, I promise babe”, he says, genuinely. You know he would never lie, but he still had to be punished. You reach out to grab San’s phone which was lying on the bed after you pushed him down, and set seven minutes on the timer before throwing his phone haphazardly on the bed, right beside him.

You sigh as your attention goes back to him, letting your fingers trail along his broad chest, stopping at his nipples. You lick both your thumbs before flicking his nipples, and that elicits a cry from San as his hips buck into you.

“Seven minutes isn’t long actually. I think it’s a pretty generous amount of time for you”, you say, rubbing and pulling his nipples, watching San squirm beneath you, the wet stain his underwear only growing bigger.

“Generous amount of time for me?” He repeats through hazed eyes.

“Yeah. A generous amount of time to hold you from cumming”, you reply nonchalantly. “I’m not letting you cum until the timer rings, darling.”

That sends shivers down San’s spine and he whines, both fear and arousal intertwining. He’s oh, so fucked, and he could only reply, “yes.”

A smile spreads across your face as you immediately got to work—pulling off his boxers as his cock springs out, so big and hard. You wet your hand with your spit as you start pumping him, more beautiful moans escape from his lips as his hips begin to automatically fuck your hand. As you continue to drive him up the wall, you lean into his neck, and suck against his soft skin, and that releases even more whimpers as you mark a couple of deep red bites and hickeys around his neck.

“I can’t believe I have to mark you like this to remind you who you belong to”, you sigh again, flicking your wrist up, earning a soft cry from him as more precum seeps out of his cockhead. He murmurs “sorry, baby, I’m sorry”, as you continue to pump his cock, with short intervals of teasing his nipples.

His cock twitches in your palm and that’s your signal to let go, watching San groan as he’s first orgasm get denied, his hands gripping the sheets.

“We’re only getting started”, you remind him as you sink yourself to face his cock. San’s breathing hitches.

It was definitely going to be the longest seven minutes of his life.

Your lips wrapped around his cock as you bob your head, making sure your tongue feels up the under area of his cock—where he’s the most sensitive. You take his whole length in your mouth, feeling him at the back of your throat as you clench on him and a loud broken whimper is heard from him.

“Babe, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, he cries out, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes as his cock twitches in pain when you leave him dry and empty for the second round.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” You ask, letting his cock leave your lips with a pop, his precum dripping off from the corner of your lips as you pepper kisses to his pretty little cock. Through his ragged pants, he barely makes out, “I shouldn’t have let her touch me at all. I’ve been bad.”

You don’t reply him, only going back to sucking his soul of his cock as his hips rise to fit himself as much as he could in your mouth. He feels his stomach tighten again, and you see the flex his abdomen does when he’s going to cum, and he’s crying, “fuck fuck fuck, I’m so close, I’m cumming-“

And your lips leave his cock.

“Fuckkkkkk”, San whines, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the sheets.

You ignore his pleas, your eyes glance over to the timer—four minutes left. You look back him with the softest gaze, as you comb your boyfriend’s hair back. “I’m gonna fuck you”, you tell him and it sounds like a threat, and also it goes directly to his cock. He’s so fucked. He knows he can’t last in you for long, let alone for another X amount of minutes left.

San can only watch, wide-eye and hopeless as you shift up to straddle him once more, only rubbing your wet cunt against his very wet cock. He throws his head back against the sheets, his chest heaving as you grind up on him.

Being denied of three orgasms, the fourth one builds up rapidly as he attempts to push his hips up to rut against you, his cock leaking thick, white precum already. “Please. I don’t think I can take it”, he whimpers, this time his tears streak down his face as his cock twitches pathetically against his abdomen, thick fluid dripping down his cockhead, mixing with your juices. And you immediately slow down, another beautiful cry from the male underneath you as his orgasm slips away from him.

You almost feel bad, almost. But seven minutes still wasn’t up. But you do let him touch you this time, and immediately, his hands are all over you, grasping at every inch of skin he brushes against. He claws against your thighs, leaving pretty marks in his wake. You wipe his tears away and press a loving kiss on his lips as you position his cockhead right at your fluttering hole, as you sink in so fucking easily.

“Oh my fucking god, fuck”, San cries out, his cock just twitching in your pussy. A sigh leaves your lips, feeling so full as San’s cock hits all the right spots perfectly. San’s eyes meet yours, as you stroke his hair affectionately.

“Do you think you deserve to cum?” You ask, rocking your hips painfully slow. San can’t answer, he’s so fucked out and he wants to cum so fucking badly. Your hands wrap around his neck, as you force him to look at you. He nods desperately, just wanting a release after being denied four whole orgasms.

“Please, let me cum, please, I’m begging you”, he strains, and you feel his thighs trembling from beneath you. Your gaze flicker to the timer, and you smile at him.

“Lucky you, baby. There’s only a minute left.”

San is frantic and borderline crazed right now, trying to hold it off for the final minute, and his soul almost leaves his body as you fucking begin bouncing on his cock, the sounds of your moans mixed with the squelching from his cock fucking into your cunt sending him off the edge.

“Thirty seconds, baby”, you remind him as you feel the knot in your stomach from how fucking filled San’s cock is in you. Fuck, you were so gonna cum too at this rate. You don’t tell him about the final ten, because you simply speed up, leaning forward to bounce on his dick better, the sounds of skin slapping now louder than ever.

“Babe, fuck, I’m gonna cum, can I cum, please?” San stares at you pleadingly, eyes wet with desperation. You don’t answer him, only grabbing his jaw in your hands as you fuck him even harder. “When the alarm rings”, is all you reply. “Be a good boy.”

And the alarm goes off, so does Choi San. His eyes are barely open as his lips are parted in absolute bliss as a long, drawn out whine of pleasure and relief washes over him as his cock shoots ropes and ropes of thick, white cum right into your tight hole. At that moment your orgasm hits you, seeing your boyfriend so fucked out and pretty like that, as you lean back and squirt all over him, tapping and rubbing your pussy, making sure it gets all over his pretty fucking face as San continues to cum into your pussy. The overstimulation of your cunt clenching on his cock only milks out even more cum, a thick load just oozing right out of your cunt as his cock is softening in you.

He pulls out and winces, the sensitivity tingling through this body. He sits up, and you take a good look at him, and oh fucking boy, he looks so fucking good, covered in sweat, panting, his hair combed back, his nipples looking swollen, hickies littered all over his neck, cum and squirt just all over him. “Fuck, you look so fucking hot like that”, is the first thing that leaves San’s mouth, causing you to break into laughter as you lean in for another greedy kiss which he never denies you.

You reach out for tissue on the nightstand, to at least clean the cum running down your thighs, which San, for his life could not keep his eyes off. San cleans himself up as you pull up your panties and wear your clothes back on. You turn to San, who is about to put his top back on, and stop him. San is confused for a moment as he stays put, feeling your fingers tips trace over the love bites on his neck.

No not enough. You squeeze his tits, a small gasp leaving his lips which turns into a moan when you suck near his nipple—another gorgeous hickey blooms. Two more bloom on his chest and you were done. Your hands graze his nipples, causing him to whimper. “I think this is a good way to let them know of our relationship”, you hum, admiring your artwork. “We can leave like this.”

Pink creeps up to his neck and cheeks. You stare at him and a pout appears. “What, you want to let her know you want her?” San shakes his head quickly. “N-no! I only belong to you”, he says through flushed cheeks.

“That’s my good boy”, you smile as you stroke his hair as San completely melts around you. You take his hand gently and kiss it before opening the door.

Everyone turns their attention to the both of you, and boy, did their jaws hang open.

“Bro, what the fuck did you guys do in there?” Mingi asks, staring at the disheveled state the both of you were in, and his eyes land on San’s body, which is so prettily decorated.

“Yeah, we wanted to announce that we’ve been dating for awhile now, but seems like he got a little carried away with spin the bottle”, you respond, drawing circles in San’s palm.

All of their eyes follow the both of you as you and San return to your seats. Your eyes meet the girl’s and you giggle.

“Sorry it took awhile, I brought him back.”

The girl who he hugged isn’t fazed, she only laughs in response, saying, “oh my god, fuck off. Jesus Christ the both of you.” You only laugh back as your eyes meet San’s and his gaze reflects something so affectionate and delicate.

Yeah, that was probably one of the best seven minutes of his life.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #ateez san #choi san smut #choi san #ateez x y/n #kpop fics #ateez headcanons #reader x ateez

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strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

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never grow up part two

summary: chris and sunny's friendship is put to the test as they navigate new changes between them, following them having sex

angstyyyyyyyyyy part 1 part 3

Every morning at the Sturniolo’s house starts the same. Chris and I are always the last out of bed even though we wake up before everyone else. We spend hours talking and laughing and avoiding interaction with anyone else. Even when we were just friends, we just wanted to be alone together.

Now, things are slightly different.

I woke up with Chris’ arms enclosed around my body. He never was the type to cuddle, but maybe it’s because he’s going back to LA in a few days that he feels like he should hold onto me until that time comes.

I had forgotten about that. The whole fact that he’d have to leave soon.

He shifts a bit beneath me, stirring awake. His eyes search for mine, looking for a sign that I’m awake too. I close my eyes quickly, but with a laugh beneath me, I know I wasn’t fast enough.

“I saw that,” he says. “What are you pretending you’re sleeping for?”

“You looked so cute, I didn’t want to wake you up. I thought if I pretended to sleep then you’d go back to sleep and I could admire you longer.”

He smiles softly, pulling me closer. “You’re adorable.” My heart races a little. “You liked that, huh?” he asks, feeling my heart against his chest.

I push myself off of him, rolling my eyes. “Shut up.”

Flashbacks from last night come rushing in like a storm cloud, preparing to strike me with every mistake we may have made. I don’t want to think that sex with Chris was a mistake, but I can’t let myself feel these things for him if he’s going back to LA, which is of course going to happen.

From the kiss, to the sex, to us cuddling after, every touch of our bodies felt like a rush of electricity until we were destined to burn out.

“You hungry?” he snaps me out of my daze where my thoughts started consuming me. “Mom’s making french toast. Your favorite.”

Mom. Because she was never just his mom. She was always a second mother to me.

“And yours,” I remind him.

He smiles, nodding in agreement. “That’s why we work so well together.”

Then, he kisses me.

It’s so natural like he hasn’t even thought about it. Like he didn’t have to. Like it’s everything he’s been wanting to do.

“I need to change. I’ll be down in a minute though,” I give him a half smile, realizing that I’m in nothing more than my underwear and Chris’ old t-shirt.

He kisses my forehead, then leaves the room.

I pull on a pair of Chris’ sweatpants and a hoodie, covering myself head to toe in his wardrobe. When I walk downstairs, no one says anything about me wearing his clothes. No one cares. This is how it’s always been, even before he was burying himself inside of me last night.

“Morning, Sunny,” Matt says through a mouthful of his breakfast. He washes it down with a swig of orange juice, barely looking up at me as he eats and tries to talk at the same time.

I sit next to him as Chris’ mom makes me a plate of food, sliding it down in front of me. Chris stands by the fridge, pouring himself some water from the dispenser in the fridge. I look up, catching his eye.

He starts to smile at me, the smallest smile that sends a zoo of butterflies scattering through my body.

“What the fuck are you doing!” Nick exclaims, tossing his arms up towards Chris as he looks down at the puddle of water on the floor he just stepped into.

Chris’ eyes go wide at the glass of water overflowing in his hand, dripping into a small pond on the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Dude, clean it up!” Matt adds, this time without his mouth full.

“I am dipshit!” he calls back, dropping a towel on the floor and swiping it on the tile with his foot.

Chris sits to the left of me at the island, eating his breakfast silently.

With some small talk being made as everyone eats, the only thing I’m focused on is Chris’ taps onto my foot with his own.

“Something funny?” Matt asks, noticing my smile and quiet giggles as I play footsie with his brother.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.”

—

“You’re lying!” I yell at him.

“I’m not!” he shouts back, inches from my face.

“You’re a fucking liar!”

“And you’re overdramatic!”

“You do remember, you’re just embarrassed.”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why would I want to remember me throwing up after I had my first kiss.”

I erupt into laughter as he finally gives into his embarrassing memory. He punches my arm forcefully.

“HEY!”

“I was 12 and scared! And I chugged like three sodas beforehand so yeah, I thought I was gonna burp, and then I threw up. Laugh it up.”

“Oh, I will,” I tease him further, watching him shake his head at me.

“Mmm,” he hums, nodding his head at me as he brings his face closer to mine, brushing our noses as our lips find each other.

I give him a quick kiss, making him whine as I pull away.

“More,” he says, his eyes closed as he smiles.

I peck his lips again, just for him to ask for more.

“Chris!” I scold him, laughing.

“What!” he shouts back defensively. “I’m making up for lost time here.”

I find myself giving in, just like I always do. I give into everything that screams his name. I give into anything that gives me some of him, even though now I have all of him.

Our lips press together like it’s everything that we’re supposed to be. His hand holds my face, and as the kiss grows from soft pecks to a heavier makeout, I’m eternally grateful that we came to my house. Two nights at his place would be too suspicious. We would always alternate houses as kids.

He sits on my couch in my new apartment that I share with my college roommate. Luckily, she’s at work. With him in Boston for now, we don’t have to worry about alternating houses. If he wants to stay here and sleep in my bed and hold me and kiss me while we sleep, we don’t need anyone’s permission anymore. That’s what I remind myself as I climb into his lap.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers against my lips.

Baby.

Not Sunny.

Not even my real name.

He calls me baby.

I can’t even kiss him for a second because of the way my lips curl into a smile.

He pulls back and looks at me, analyzing my expression. “What’s that for?”

“You called me baby.”

I feel his body release a casual shrug. “It’s nothing,” he says.

But to me it’s everything.

I smile into another kiss, holding him close. His hands grip my hips, shifting me slightly on his crotch. A gasp escapes my lips, just enough noise for him to break our mouths apart and lock his eyes on mine, watching the satisfaction rise through my body.

“I love learning what you like,” he nods, flicking his eyes all over my face. “I never remember ever having to learn something new about you. This is so refreshing. I love having more of you.”

My hips dip forward, searching for some sort of release of the ache as I feel my clit begging for attention. As I rock my hips on him, I find the strength between my staggered breathing to say, “I’m yours.”

He raises his thumb to my bottom lip, pulling it downward. His eyes are full of lust as he sucks his own lip in between his teeth, biting down on it hard like he’s holding himself back.

“You always have been.”

I just about melt into him, the kiss pulling us together like the strongest magnets. Even on opposite sides of the country, we’re destined to be drawn together.

He wraps his arms around my lower back, holding me tight as he pulls me into his body, picking me up slightly and laying me down on the length of the couch, all without letting his mouth leave mine.

“I don’t want to know a world where I’m not your number one girl,” I confess to him, the words slipping out of me as I know our events of last night could have changed everything between us.

“Well,” he starts to say, making me freeze. “Apart from my mom and maybe my future daughter, you’re definitely number one.”

Good answer.

His mouth dips to my neck, pushing his own sweatshirt on my body aside as he searches for the spot with the easiest access, but can also double as a sweet spot that will have me begging him for more.

As he places sloppy kisses on my neck and his hands push against my stomach, I have a random rush on panic in my body, like I need answers before I need him inside of me again.

“Chris?”

“Hmm,” he lets out a hum, trying not to break contact between us.

“We need to talk.”

He groans, but not the kind filled with pleasure. He sounds pissed off. “Right now?”

I nod. “Yes, right now.”

He sits up on his knees. “Can you give me like… ten minutes?”

I shake my head.

He lets out a gentle sigh, not one of annoyance, but rather an exhale after the rush of our bodies that we had been looking for until I stopped it.

He runs his hand through his hair, correcting the placement of his curls after I threw them off as we kissed and started touching each other. “What’s up?”

I struggle to find the right words to tell him what is going on inside my brain. How do I make him understand that I’m terrified of losing our friendship because of us having sex, or that I’m scared to ruin our friendship through a relationship, but all I’ve thought of growing up is what it would be like to know he was my boyfriend, and no one else's?

“I just – I think– Last night,” I struggle, but the words start to form. “I had a lot of fun last night. It was really good. And right now, I want to do that again… I just–”

Chris’ expression changes numerous times as I take him on a mental journey with me. He looks worried, then smiles, then looks worried again.

“We don’t have to have sex again right now,” he reminds me. “I just thought you wanted to because you got in my lap but I should have asked–”

“No,” I interrupt him, almost too passionate about the topic of sex with him, but hey, that’s years of pent up frustration coming out. “It’s not about the sex.”

“You sure?” he pushes a bit further, raising an eyebrow at me.

I nod. “It has nothing to do with the sex… entirely…” I’m ruining this by speaking. “I’ve liked you for so long, Chris.”

I watch him swallow. It’s like he’s nervous. He doesn’t say anything.

So I continue and hope that he interrupts me at some point.

“I’ve always liked you and I always wanted something more in our friendship but if that never happened, I was okay with that, because we were Sunny and Chris, and that was always enough. But after last night, and the way things have been going all day… I guess I’ve just been thinking about how things might be if we… you know… tried.”

“Tried what?” he asks me blankly.

I blink at him a few times, waiting for it to register, but it never does.

“A relationship,” I say simply.

His face contorts.

My heart just about fucking stops functioning.

“Why would we do that?”

I don’t bother hiding the fact that my face fell in front of him. I scoot back a bit, feeling uncomfortable with being so brave and outspoken. I shouldn’t have said anything at all, but as I juggle that idea, I remember that he started this. I have no reason to doubt what I thought he felt. He gave me this.

“We had sex last night,” I remind him, as if he could possibly forget.

“I know that. I’m saying… why would we start a relationship just because we had sex?”

He waits for me to say something back, but I’m at a loss for words. I’m treading water in the deepest of oceans, and all I want right now is to fucking drown and never come back up after this.

“It was just sex,” he adds.

That sucks me underwater, and I’m struggling to breathe.

Except in real life, it pushes me to stand up in front of him, taking control. “Just sex?!”

The scariest part of this is that he doesn’t even look like he feels that he’s said anything wrong.

“Sun–”

“I don’t just have sex, Chris,” I cut him off, the fear, anger, sadness, and sudden regret pour out of me. “And I would never just have sex with you. I had sex with you because I thought things were different. I thought you wanted me differently. And now that we’ve had sex, you’re just gonna go back to LA and we’re gonna what? Go back to not speaking on the phone and only communicating through meaningless Snapchats?”

He stares at the floor, not a thought leaving his head and entering his mouth, clearly, because he says nothing back.

“If you can’t figure this out on your own with that college brain, then I have nothing else to say to you,” he finally says. He grabs his phone and adjusts his clothing before he stands up and places himself inches from my face. “Figure it out and then call me.”

“What does me being in college have to do with this?” I ask.

“You know exactly what it means!” he says, his volume much louder than before, catching me off guard. “You act like you’re so much higher than me-”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” I interject quickly. “I was always the person supporting you and telling you to chase your dreams. I was always the one telling everyone that you were gonna make it big.”

“Right, but you don’t want me to go to LA.”

He starts walking away, and without hesitating, I run after him.

“This isn’t about LA!” I shout. “This is about you and me!”

He spins around on his feet, his face inches from mine as he yells back, “I know that!”

“It’s about you and if you’re ready to be in a relationship, and if you’re willing to do distance for us-”

“Are you serious? If I’m willing?” he argues, stepping closer to me. I step back. It’s like I don’t know him anymore. “I’ve been following you around like an abandoned puppy since the day we met and you’re still asking yourself what I want?”

I let my voice drop to a much lower volume, practically a mumble. “What do you want?”

“YOU! I WANT YOU!”

I fall silent. My eyes fill with tears, but I refuse to let them fall. He’s here. I haven’t lost him. We just have to get through this new part of us.

“Do you want me?” he asks, noticing my silence as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Of course I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and I always will.

I want to be your biggest fan, on the sidelines watching you succeed and achieve every dream I remember you telling me about as we colored with sidewalk chalk as kids until we skinned our fingers from rubbing the chalk into the pavement too hard.

I don’t know how long we’ve been in silence. I don’t know how long I’ve been having a mental battle with myself.

I want to be with Chris, but I don’t think we want each other the same way.

I want to have a relationship with him. I want to call him mine and know that he’s no one else’s. I want to look at pictures of us as kids and laugh, thinking about how things have changed.

He wants freedom, and he wants to have fun. I was there, and we didn’t give ourselves to each other. I gave myself to him, and he gave me the Chris that he gives every girl in LA. He made me think I was more than that to him. I should be more than that, and that’s what makes me hesitant above all.

When he goes back to LA, everything falls back to the way it was, and that’s the last thing I want. Yet, I can’t bring myself to beg for change, because I know it won’t happen unless he wants this too.

“Cool,” nods. He tucks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and slips his shoes on. He heads to the door and says, “I’ve spent my entire life chasing after someone who couldn’t give a fuck about me.”

Then, he leaves.

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buckyalpine · 6 months

Text

I’m going to redo this story. Here is a version I wrote that I feel is okay but I have another version in mind so I’ll write that tooo. I didn’t want to throw this away completely so maybe at least 1 person will like this 😭 @paulasocean another version is coming bb ❤️

"Okay, I can't for the life of me remember what happened during this mission" Nat grumbled while sitting in the conference room, catching up on paper work after Fury had demanded all mission reports be handed in by the end of the week.

"Honestly, neither can I" Steve shook his head, rubbing his temples, the past few months all melting into a blur. Everyone had been running back to back missions, prioritizing actually saving people over filling out reports. "I only filled out half of it and before I could finish, someone put it away"

"Please tell me it's somewhere in this building, I can't spend the rest of the day writing about how many time Steve jumped off a roof with zero protection" Bucky groaned, most of his mission reports consisting of all the recklessness his bestfriend did.

"Go check the records room, someone probably filed it there" Tony suggested while Bucky nodded, heading down to the very bottom of the compound where there were rooms upon rooms filled with documents on every criminal and terrorist organization to exist as well as individual cases. Steve and Nat followed, the both of them wandering through the shelves where the most recent reports were, quickly locating the latest one.

"He's this big billionaire with the most advanced technology in the world and but he's keeping records in the basement like a creepy grandpa" Nat huffed, scanning the shelves.

"You'd think he'd have these all digitized by now, given how much he loves technology" Steve snorted while Bucky remained silent, preoccupied with a different row of shelves that caught his eye. His heart hammered a little harder than usual as he looked at the five full floor to ceiling shelves that were solely for Hydra. He was sure at least two shelves would be for his atrocities alone.

"Buck, c'mon" Steve patted Bucky's shoulder, already seeing where his bestfriends mind spiraled, "Nat found what she needed, let's get out of here punk"

"Just-give me a second" Bucky murmured, opening one of the drawers and flipping through the papers, swallowing thickly at some of the agents he'd recognized, ones that had tortured him to no end.

That's when another face caught his eye.

His blood ran cold, flipping through the pages faster, hoping there was some sort of mistake.

It couldn't be.

It was your face, over and over again but under a different name.

Svetlana Petrovitch

"St-Steve?"

"What is it Buck" Steve frowned, seeing the color drain from Bucky's face, taking the file from his hands, his own eyes growing wide.

"Please tell me that isn't her"

"That's y/n" Steve murmured, not understanding where there was a file on you at all, let alone why it was associated with Hydra. Bucky grabbed the filed back before looking at others, his anxiety only getting worse. "Svetlana?"

"These aren't files on those who were taken or held captive. This whole shelf is just for agents who have worked for Hydra throughout the years. They're all Hydra agents"

Bucky needed it to be a mistake, a misprint, a file placed in the wrong section, you were his whole world, you would've told him if you were associated with hydra. His mouth wen dry, clutching onto the papers as he wordlessly made his way back up to find you.

You had been gone all morning, insisting you were just going to grab coffee but now he had his suspicions. You usually always asked him to tag along everywhere but every so often, about every two weeks, you would disappear on your own for hours on end.

He'd also hear you speaking to someone on the phone in hushed whispers but he'd never once questioned it but based on what he'd just seen, he had no idea what to believe.

Who were you.

He tossed the file onto the table as soon as he saw you in the room, the tick in his jaw worrying you. You got up, making your way over to brush his cheek, freezing when he stepped away from your touch as if it would burn him. Everyone left the room, sensing this was a private moment between you both.

"Bucky, is everything okay-

"Where were you"

"I-

"Tell me where you were this morning"

Your heart sank to your stomach, the guilt plastered on your face causing his emotional turmoil to worsen.

"I-I told you I went for coffee" Your shaky voice lacked truth, only confirming his suspicious further.

"Did you work for Hydra?"

"Bucky-

"Y/n, it's a yes or no question, were you a hydra agent or not"

"I-

The fact that you hadn't said no, the fact that you looked guilty, unable to look at him directly in the face was enough to send Bucky over the edge.

"H-how could you?!”

"James, you don't understand!-

"No. No" Bucky shook his head, tears welling in his eyes, his stomach twisting in knots. "Don't. Just don't"

"Baby, please just listen to me-

"Is y/n your name? Hm?" His eyes were red from unshed tears, a part of him still desperately hoping this was all a bad dream. That his girl, the woman he trusted with his entire life, was really who he thought she was, "Or is it Svetlana. You were part of them. You probably still are, is that why you came here? Did you pretend to love me all this time just to get me back to them? Is this what all of our relationship was to you? Find a way to get the Winter Soldier back?"

"Bucky stop!" You cried out, your voice cracking, wiping away at your wet cheeks. You couldn't get a word in as he backed away from you, shaking his head, feeling disgust and confusion at the same time. His heart yearned for you but he wouldn't be able to over come this. "Please-

"There's nothing to listen to. How-how can I ever trust you again" His throat felt like it was being squeezed shut all over again, just like the days Hydra strapped a collar on him to hold him in place every time he was wiped. "I don't even know who you are anymore. I-I love you but I can't-

"Bucky don't do this, just let me explain-

"YOU CAN'T! THERE'S NOTHING FOR YOU TO EXPLAIN!" He snapped, making you flinch back. "You-you could've told me! How am I supposed to trust you?! I've told you my darkest memories and-and fuck, you would've already known, right? This was all a game to you, you would've already known everything I'd ever done. Were you part of that too? Huh? Did you also have a say in all the shit they did to me when I was under their control?"

"NO!" You shook your head, covering your ears, unable to take the words he was saying to you, never in a million years would you ever have done such a thing to the man you loved with your entire being. "Jamie, I would never, I love you, just sit down with me baby, please-

"I'm sorry. We're done. For good. I can't even look at you. You know I love you, fuck, I-do you have any way how much I love you" Bucky's voice dropped to a whisper, moving to softly cup your face in his hands, brushing away at the tears that continued to spill from your lashes. He traced his thumbs along your soft cheeks on last time, his soul feeling like it was being ripped from his body as he dropped his arms back to his sides. "But I can't do this"

He stormed out of the room without looking back leaving you torn, broken and sobbing. You ran past the others who were still worriedly waiting outside and right to your room, locking it, instructing FRIDAY to forbid anyone else from entering.

It didn't take long for you to pack all your things. You didn't have much.

You never did.

You left behind all of Bucky's Henleys that you'd stolen along with all the sweet gifts he'd bought you on your dresser; you figured he wouldn't want to see you anyway.

You had left the compound by that night.

Steve signed at the sight of his best friend spending another night destroying himself at the gym, dark red stains covering the leather of the nearly torn punching bag.

"No one knew?" Bucky's voice was hoarse from nights of crying and getting by on coffee and taking out his frustrations out on the gym. He'd stayed in his room for days on end, not speaking to anyone, his head and heart aching. His knuckles were split from how hard he'd been punching the bag, only to be held back by Steve who couldn't stand to see Bucky like this anymore.

"No. None of us knew anything. I spoke to Tony, those files were sent to us directly through SHIELD. When Tony ran his background checks, everything came up clear. There's gotta be more to this Buck. Why don’t you-"

"I loved her" Bucky shook his head, still feeling betrayed over all the things he didn't know. "But I can't"

Weeks went by and Bucky grew more reckless. Not having the love of his life by his side coupled by the fact that there were so many unanswered questions pushed him further and further to the edge. He hated that he still dreamt about you every night, tossing and turning in his cold bed, without you there to keep him safe and warm. You were on his mind every single day and every single part of him wanted to know where you'd gone, how you were doing, guilt starting to eat a him.

He never gave you a chance to explain yourself, jumping at you the second he thought you had strong ties with Hydra, that you were an agent yourself. He'd never even let you get a word in, breaking things off without a second guess.

To make things worse, he'd gone as far as accusing you of also being part of all the pain he'd been put through.

No one knew where you'd gone.

Except Tony.

"Just tell me where she is" Bucky ran his hands through his already messy hair, pacing up and down Tony's office while the billionaire sighed. "Please"

"I can't. She asked me not to and I can't break that Barnes. Plus you broke up with her, it's not like she left cause she wanted to"

The guilt that was already eating at him only worsened as he sat down in defeat, angrily wiping his face.

"Is there anything you can tell me? Something? Anything, I'll take anything at this point, I fucked up so badly"

"The most I can do is let you know if she comes back or if she wants to talk to you"

Bucky didn't press the issue more, taking it upon himself to scour the records room again to see if there was anything else on you but he came up short. There were no other files on a person with the last name Petrovitch. He never actually looked through your file properly, feeling too much anxiety from the first time he'd seen it. When he bothered to read it again, there was hardly any information, only having a few fuzzy pictures of you at the base with some other agents as well as how long you'd been there for.

There was one place he'd get his answers from.

SHIELD.

"Who is y/n"

"Sargent"

"TELL ME" Bucky's voice nearly shattered the glass, causing Fury to flinch while the others took a step back. After Tony didn't reveal your location, Bucky went straight to the head office, his brooding glare alone getting him instant access to the top floor. The team accompanied him for moral support but also to keep things under control just in case, everyone standing in the directors office on edge. "You kept this from me, from everyone here, I need to know, what does she have to do with Hydra"

Fury sighed, pulling out a thick file from a second safe, dropping it onto the table, shifting through papers before pulling out one of a picture from when you were young. Bucky recognized the twinkling eyes, his heart breaking all over again for the young little girl in the picture, lost and innocent.

How the hell did he think you'd been an agent.

"Y/n, y/l/n. Originally named Svetlana Petrovich by Hydra. Her birth mother had been used as an experiment to procreate more super soldiers in case the serum couldn't be replicated. The serum didn't take so she was rendered useless. Her mother was never seen again. Her supposed father was one of the many soldiers who had been given a different version of what Sargent Barnes has"

Bucky was frozen in place as Fury spoke, feeling absolute agony over the words he's said to you. Your broken face and pleading voice played over and over again, making him nauseous.

"Hydra kept the child in hopes of using training her into a weapon. She was cared for by a woman who was appointed to be her handler. She raised the child differently, without anyone else knowing. Don't ask me how she did it, we don't even have a name"

Everyone continued to listen in stunned silence while he spoke.

"Agent y/l/n wanted to escape but remained at the base to ensure no one hurt the woman who had taken care of her. She didn't go on any missions but she was trained to be one of the strongest soldiers they had, hence the images of her at the base with other Hydra operatives. She remained there until the woman's death and escaped the very same night. We recruited her a few years later"

"How do you know all this and why didn't anyone know" Steve stepped in while Bucky remained silent, trying desperately not to break down. Not only had you been born into the worst situation but you only remained there to protect the one person who was like a mother to you after you lost your own.

"I have my ways, Captain. She didn't want anyone to know. She wasn't proud of the fact that she'd been brought up in such a place. She left it all behind but wanted to use her skills for good. There's a reason she one of your top agents. She didn't learn those skills from just anywhere"

Bucky wordlessly walked out of the room, unable to sit and hear another word. His heart broke for the baby who'd been forced into Hydra's hands without a fighting chance. Yes, you had been raised by someone who wanted to love and care for you but you'd been tortured and trained more than anyone else and after you finally escaped with a life for yourself, he'd accused you of betraying him. He hated that he had come to Fury for answers when he could've just let you speak instead, letting his own anger cloud his judgement. He still didn't know where you'd disappeared to or who you'd be on the phone with but Bucky had to speak to you, no matter what it took.

"I'm only giving you her location because she sounds miserable and I'm assuming it's because she misses you. If she pulls a gun my head because of this, its on you" Tony mumbled, scribbling something onto a sheet of paper and stuffing it into Bucky's hand. "You better grovel your ass off"

Bucky couldn't care less about traffic laws as he swerved through the streets to get to you, his motorbike revving through the city till he reached a dingy looking apartment building. He frowned, double checking the address before parking his bike and walking to the lobby. Bucky made his way to the concierge, the man seemingly recognizing him immediately.

"Sargent, I'm assuming you're the boy she's been moping over" The man at the front desk gave him a pointed look, giving him a key and directing him to go to the top floor before he could even say anything. Bucky's cheeks reddened with embarrassment, nodding with a thank you before dashing off to get to you.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he was surprised to find the peeling and dusty hall way empty with just one door right in the middle. His heart hammered against his chest as he shakily raised his hand to knock. He could hear shuffling on the other side, wiping his palm against his jeans when he hard the lock click open.

"Baby, I'm so sorry I- oh-mam, I'm sorry, I must have the wrong address-“

An elderly woman opened the door, her eyes twinkling as she looked him up and down, taking his metal hand in hers and pulling him inside. Bucky stood in confused silence as he entered the large apartment, which was a stark contrast to the mess it appeared to be on the outside. The interior was sleek; the apartment large enough to take up the entire floor. It made sense why the whole hall only had one door. A large living area was off to the right, decorated with a mix of abstract and modern art; a lot of the pieces reminding him of things that you would paint yourself-

"You must be James" she hummed, taking him into the living room while Bucky's jaw was still hanging, utterly perplexed over where he was. "Let me get your girl"

"My girl?"

Before he could get another word in, the woman disappeared, coming back moments later, dragging you with her. You stood stiffly, refusing to meet his eyes while she huffed, giving you a gentle push towards him.

"Now you both sit and talk" And with that, she left.

"Y/n" Bucky want to fall to his knees and beg you to forgive him, his heart breaking over the way you looked at him like a stranger. The eyes that used to hold so much love, so much spark were now hollow and empty and full of hurt.

"No. You didn't even give me a chance to explain myself Bucky" You kept your voice as steady as you possibly could, your throat already starting to grow painfully tight. You weren't one to cry easily, especially after years of training to repress your emotions but Bucky was your weakness.

"I know. I was wrong, I should've listened to you, it was so wrong of me, I-It's just-I'm not excusing myself, I promise, it's just-I didn't know what to think and I'd always hear you on the phone, sometimes you'd disappear for hours and you wouldn't tell me where, I-I'm sorry I thought the worst when I saw that file. It doesn't change the fact that I didn't let you get a word in. I'm so sorry angel"

You sighed, letting your heart soften. You knew Bucky came with his own baggage of trust issues and while you'd wanted to tell him about the phone calls and visits, you worried about if any of it would make him uncomfortable.

"It was my mother" You whispered, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers, "That's who I'd call and come to see. Well my adoptive mother. Handler. She was like a mother to me"

"But-I thought-" Bucky blinked in confusion, Fury had made it clear the woman had passed before you escaped, "She's alive?"

"I helped her escape with me. We faked her death so they wouldn't come searching for her. She had been captured there to work as a nurse. We changed our names. I didn’t want her living there anymore after I left. This is her place; Tony was nice enough to renovate a penthouse for me without asking questions. Before I joined the team, we'd lay low in cheap rentals. Now I know she's always safe. The concierge is a trained agent"

Bucky felt an inkling of hope when he stepped towards you and you didn't step back. He nervously brought his hand to hold yours, letting out the breath he was holding when you didn't pull away.

"Please forgive me baby, I-I should've given you a chance to explain, I'm so sorry" Bucky squeezed your hand, his thumb coming to brush away the tear that trailed down your cheek.

"You hurt me" You whispered, sniffling. "I'm not upset that you got mad or felt hurt and confused. But you thought I was an agent Bucky. You-you thought I'd do something to hurt you" The last word barely made it out as the first sob escaped. You were able to take Bucky's hurt and confused but no the fact that he'd doubt your love for him, "Did you think I-I didn't love you?"

"No! I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry baby. For everything. For everything you had to go through, for everything I said. I shouldn't have acted like that. I should have trusted you, I know you love me, no one's ever loved me the way you do doll"

“How could you not trust me. Why didn’t you at least let me explain it to you Bucky”

“I know baby, m'so sorry" Seeing your walls crumble made Bucky's heart ache, his body moving on its own to wrap you in a protective hug. He hated to be the cause of your tears, understanding why you'd been nervous to tell him about your past. Of course you came with your own traumas from Hydra and even though he endured similar things, it still wasn't easy to open up about. "Will you please come back home? You don't have to stay in our room, you don't even have to forgive me, just- please baby"

You melted into his embrace having missed his warmth, his scent, his safe arms.

"I should have told you. I-I was scared-

"Shhh, I understand. You don't have to explain it, m'sorry i didn't know and lashed out. Please come home baby" He whispered against your hair, kissing the top of your head while keeping you pressed to his body. You nodded against his chest, too lost in hugging him back to notice your mother's watery smile or happy sniffles.

"Take me home, Bucky"

Of course after you'd come home, Bucky continued to earn your forgiveness, making sure you understood he'd never doubted your feelings for him. He starts to join you as well when you go to visit your mother, blushing when she calls him handsome. Butterflies erupt in his tummy when she give him her blessing while he fidgets with a ring he'd bought, keeping it safely in a velvet box for the right moment.

During vulnerable nights there are times where he needs you to hold him and nights where you need him just as much. He loves that he can comfort and hold you too, letting you pour your heart out when you feel like it or humming soft lullabies till you fall asleep when you don't feel like talking. One thing that is for sure, he'd never push you away from him again. There no one else on this earth that he loves and trusts more than you.

Once again, this version was meant to be trashed so. pls.

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unseededtoast · 4 months

Text

All I Know | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: Five years after leaving Spencer Reid, it seems that fate might have given you a second chance. Inspired by "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran

Part two of Glimpse of Us, but can be read standalone!

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.5k

a/n: Hi everyone! It's good to be back and I hope this lives up to your expectations. This one felt different from my usual style but I think it's different in a good way. And thank you once again for being patient, I appreciate each and every one of you

You're not sure what you did to deserve this opportunity, to be reunited with the love of your life, but you choose not to question it. All you know is that you're his, and he is yours, until the end of your days.

And that is more than you could have ever wished for.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nerves wake Spencer up far before his alarm even sounds. Anxiety over the "what ifs" of the day eat away at his mind, he hopes the day goes well. He hasn't had a first day at work in a long time, he had become accustomed to his life at the BAU. But his FBI days are in the rear view mirror now, a career-ending injury forced him to forge a new path in life.

And this new path he chose was becoming a professor. Sure, he had guest lectured before but he had never been a full blown professor. In preparation he reviewed his curriculum at least a hundred times to make sure it was perfect and rehearsed his first lecture.

While he should be happy and excited for a new start, he can't help but feel that it's all too bittersweet for his taste.

It had been five years since you left him. You walked out because you became unable to deal with his bustling lifestyle, and he understood. But now, here he is, forced to slow down and without you by his side. Spencer had effectively lost the two most important things in his life.

His alarm finally sounds and knocks Spencer out of his thoughts, and quickly gets ready for his first day of teaching.

- - - - -

Your pen glides across the paper in front of you quickly as you glance at the clock to see how much time you have left. Five minutes. You can do this.

After you quickly scribble your name on the card, you slide it in the envelope and rush out of your office with the card and laptop in hand. Students and faculty alike scatter through the halls, eager for the first day of classes.

You find the office you're looking for and slide the envelope under the closed door. Hopefully the new professor hadn't been in yet, you hope the card will be a nice surprise for them.

Two weeks ago at the faculty meeting it was announced a new professor was hired in your department. They wouldn't divulge a name, but you didn't think it mattered much, everyone likes a greeting card. And you hope it'll make the new professor feel right at home.

After dropping the card off you make your way to the lecture hall, excited to meet the new faces of students for the semester. Though this is only your third semester of teaching, it feels like you've been doing this a lifetime and it doesn't even feel like a job most times. You think you finally found your calling in life, and it's the first time you felt real happiness in years.

Once your lecture is over, you make your way to the break room for a much needed cup of coffee. As you sit down at one of the tables your coworker-turned-friend Jamie walks in with a smile on her face. Her first day must be going well.

"It's good to see you." You stand to hug her.

"I have a feeling this is going to be the best semester yet." Her smile is wide and bright, her enthusiasm starts rubbing off on you.

"Why's that?" You ask, sipping on your coffee as you sit back down. Jamie takes the seat across from you and leans close.

"You know the new professor they hired?" Her voice lowers so that people can't eavesdrop.

"I know they hired one but I have no idea who." You tell her the truth.

"Well whoever does the hiring around here deserves a raise. He's hot. And I mean like, hot hot." Her words pique your interest, and suddenly you wish you had stuck around to meet the man in person.

"Hmm maybe we'll have to make a habit of walking by his office." Your own smile breaks out across your face.

"Perhaps we will." The two of you laugh together and you think Jamie might just be right, this might be the best semester yet.

- - - - -

The second day of the semester went well, as did the next, and the one after that. Your students all seem to be excited for the course content, except a few, and you're excited to see the projects they come up with.

With a smile on your face from a successful lecture full of intellectual conversation, you retire to the break room for a little bit, before your next lecture. The air outside is getting quite cold and so you settle for a warm tea today.

However, your peace doesn't last long as Jamie walks in minutes later. She takes a seat across from you and sets her laptop down on the table.

"What do you have there?" She asks, gesturing to your cup. You look down at the tea that still has steam rising from it.

"Oh, just some tea." You answer and venture to take a sip that burns your tongue.

"It's a good day for it too." She says as she rises from her seat to grab a cup as well.

When she returns the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Jamie works on her notes while you enjoy the peace. You don't even look to see who entered the room when the door opens.

But, Jamie's not-so-subtle kick under the table gives you a clue as to who it might be. She's been pestering you all week about finding the new professor, and you're willing to bet he just walked in.

Casually, you look over and see a tall, slim man pouring a cup of coffee. His hair is long, down to his shoulders, and you watch as he pours sugar into the cup; an ungodly amount of sugar. Your stomach twists nervously as the man's silhouette and coffee order seems all too familiar.

Unable to tear your gaze away, you watch as the man finally turns around and meets your eyes. And it's like the world has stopped spinning, your heart has stopped pumping, and you can no longer remember how to breathe.

Spencer Reid is standing ten feet away from you.

His forest-colored eyes are just as beautiful as you remember. Gold tones still as soft as honey, green hues reminiscent of fresh spring grass. And it catapults you to the first moment you met him.

It was a nice, sunny day and you had decided to go to the park to finish your book. You had been inside for far too long and it would have been a waste to not enjoy such a lovely day. And to take full advantage of it you wore your favorite sundress.

You had picked a spot on a bench that was partially shaded from the sun and you enjoyed the sounds of nature as you turned each page. That was until someone stood in front of you and blocked your light. You closed the cover of your book and looked up to the handsome man in front of you.

"Hi, I'm Spencer and I um, I just thought I'd come and introduce myself." You hear the nerves in his voice and see them in the way he scratches as the back of his neck.

"Hi Spencer, it's nice to meet you." You smiled up at him.

You had always thought it was endearing how nervous he was to make a good impression and you've never been able to forget the fullness your heart felt that day. But then your mind plays a cruel joke, and suddenly your head is filled with the moment you left him.

No matter how hard you try to forget, you will always remember the tears running down his cheeks and the way his voice cracked as he begged you to stay. It took every ounce of strength you had to follow through with your plan.

Every now and then you think long and hard about if you had made the right decision. You still hold a deep love for Spencer, but with the lifestyle he was living and the future you wanted, eventually the two of you would have drove each other to madness one way or another. It was in the best interest of both of you to separate, or at least that's what you had convinced yourself of.

Jamie clears her throat and you're swiftly brought back to reality. She looks between them two of you, both frozen in place like statues. Now that you look at him, really look, you see how much he's changed and how much he's stayed the same.

His hair is longer, he's filled out just slightly more, his fashion sense is relatively the same and he still has kind eyes. He's still your Spencer, the one you left all those years ago.

"I can't, I have to, I have to go." You clumsily stand from your spot and rush out of the door.

Your chest begins feeling heavy and tight, your palms sweat and your heart races. Getting to your office is your only priority. Shaking fingertips grasp the edge of the solid wood desk, your eyes squeeze shut and all you can hear is your thumping heartbeat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jamie's voice sounds muffled to you, and you pay her no mind. Your only focus right now is to breathe again.

Minutes could've passed by, or even hours, before you finally feel your senses coming back to you. Your muscles ache from the tension, and you open your eyes to find Jamie standing right next to you, her hand resting on your shoulder. Blinking a few times, you try to remain calm as the nerves tangle your inside.

"Hey." Jamie speaks softly. Glancing at the clock on the wall behind her, only five minutes passed.

"Sorry about that." You stand up straight and try to regain your normal composure.

"What happened?" There isn't a trace of judgment to be found in her voice, just concern and curiosity. With a sigh, you sit on the edge of your desk and cross your arms, unable to meet her gaze.

"That was Spencer." You plainly tell her, knowing she will understand.

Over the course of the past year, you and Jamie had grown quite close. The two of you swapped stories of your pasts; you know about her exes and she knows of yours. At first, you had worried she might judge you for breaking off an engagement over a man you willingly left, but instead of judgment, she met you with understanding. And you were ever so grateful for that.

"Oh." Her tone is heavy, and all you can do is nod your head.

How are you supposed to continue working here when he shares the same halls? And had he known that you were here? Surely he recognized your name on the card. He had to have known. And yet he never sought you out once. Your mind wrestles with why that may be. Perhaps he didn't want to see you after you broke his heart, maybe he had looked for you but you were out of office. A million different scenarios fill your mind at once.

- - - - -

A week passes without seeing Spencer again. Physically, of course, but you saw him plenty in your dreams. You had been free from dreaming of Spencer Reid for about seven months now, until a week ago and now he's all you can dream about.

While you sleep you're met with different scenes, each of them about how your life might've looked like if you had stayed. Some scenes are sweet and tranquil, while others are full of fighting and misery. And you aren't sure which ones are worse.

One night you had felt particularly curious and you found yourself looking at his Instagram again. You navigated to the pictures he's been tagged in and noticed all the ones you had seen previously are no longer posted. A quick trip to the woman's profile shows that she is with a new man now, and there's no trace of Spencer left on her account. From the looks of it, Spencer never got into another relationship after her.

A part of you is relieved he hasn't moved on. For if he moved on a second time, it would have solidified to you that he truly has moved on. After all, you were never able to move on after you broke off the engagement with your last boyfriend.

Getting back together with Spencer never seemed like a viable option until now. Now he no longer lives on the fly, there's no risk of him getting called away for weeks on end. No, his schedule is normal now, a solid, unchanging schedule, one that allows for personal time. This idea had been blossoming in your mind for a few days now, after you had been able to process that he works at the same university.

Now, even while you're awake you daydream about being back together with him. In your mind, he's able to be home every evening now, he's able to be there for holidays and birthdays. There would be no more occasions spent alone. The thought of that warms your heart, but it's always quickly refuted by a tiny voice in the back of your mind. Why would he want you back after all? You had walked out on him and broke his heart, there's no reason why he would desire to have you back.

And so you live partially in sadness and partially in happiness, feelings changing on a whim depending on which thought intrudes into the forefront of your mind. You can tell others are noticing how you've withdrawn, but thankfully they haven't said anything yet. Even Jamie has been giving you more space than normal. You feel bad for distancing yourself, and promise yourself that you will try harder to get back to normal.

Normalcy is what you're hoping for tonight. It's the university's annual holiday dinner, hosted at a local five star hotel and catered by a Michelin star restaurant, you wouldn't miss it for anything. Jamie had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to carpool and when you check your phone you see that you only have fifteen minutes left before she's going to be here.

The dress code is black tie formal, and you enjoy getting dressed up, you don't get to do it often. For tonight you had decided on something simple, yet elegant. The floor length dress hugs your body just right, and the heels sparkle tastefully with every step you take. Finalizing your look, you put on a pair of earrings that catches the light beautifully. Before you go to wait for Jamie, you take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. And for the first time in a long time, you feel content with how you look, excited for the night to come.

"There are more people here than there were last year." You say to Jamie as you two wait to be seated. There's easily double the amount of people here, word must have got out about how good the food is.

"Tell me about it." She looks around at the other faculty members who are also dressed to the nines.

"Ladies, if you are willing, we have a group table that is ready to be sat." A posh waiter interrupts your conversation politely. Jamie and you look to each other and shrug.

"That's fine with me." You confirm, and Jamie nods her head. The waiter smiles,

"Right this way." He leads you through the hotel's reception room, lights dim with a string quartet playing in the background. As you pass by the musicians, you can't help but wonder how much money the university allocates to this night, and if it could perhaps be better spent. But that thought doesn't last long once the fresh bread basket is placed in front of you.

"So good." Jamie says through mouthfuls of warm, toasted bread. All you can do is nod in agreement, enjoying how the butter and bread compliment each other well.

Other faculty members begin being sat at the table with you, and you greet them all though you haven't a clue who they are. Everyone at the table gets swept away in their own conversations, so much so that you don't even realize who they had sat right next to Jamie, and you probably wouldn't have noticed for a while if Jamie's body language didn't give away that something was wrong.

Your eyebrows crease at the sudden tension in her shoulders, the tightening of her jaw. Her eyes grow wider just slightly, as if she's trying to communicate something telepathically. Your eyes sweep to the right and find nothing out of the ordinary, but once they move to the left you realize that what was supposed to be a good night, might end up being a terrible one after all. Of course the universe would have fated that Spencer get sat at this table as well.

You avert your gaze from him quickly, feeling your face flush red. If it wouldn't be considered rude, you would get up from this table right now and go back home. But you know Jamie has been looking forward to this dinner all year and you don't want to let her down because of your personal problems. If you just keep your focus on Jamie, maybe tonight will be more bearable.

Keeping your eyes off of Spencer is easier said than done you come to find. As if it's a habit, you find yourself stealing glances at him. He's decided on a nicely tailored suit for tonight, and the warm lighting compliments the golden hues in his eyes. And it's because he looks so good that you can only half pay attention to the words coming out of Jamie's mouth for the rest of the night.

The table's food arrives and your one glass of wine turns to two, which turns into three. Jamie has had more than you, and has used her newfound confidence to go mingle with the other faculty in the open part of the room. Typically, after the dinner, the floor opens for dancing and socialization, neither of which you feel like doing now. Slowly, but surely, the others at the table leave to go mingle as well, leaving only you and Spencer at the table together. With this realization, you finish off your third glass of the night and wonder where to get your fourth.

Just as you're about to get up and track a waiter down, you hear Spencer clear his throat. Like a deer caught in headlights, you look at him with wide eyes. He's already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Something makes you sit back down though you know you should be running the other way. Seconds tick by like hours, you watch with intent eyes how he licks his lips, a nervous habit he's always had. And finally, he breaks the silence.

"Hello."

- - - - -

Spencer had never been one for fancy outings, especially outside of work hours, but tonight he is happy to make an exception. Ever since he saw you in the break room you're all that he can think about; more so than usual.

Over the years he had kept light tabs on you, asking Penelope every few months how you were doing and if you were still in the area. All she ever said was that you're doing well and you're still around. And that was enough for Spencer, he could live with that vagueness. Until he set eyes on you again. Now, you consume his thoughts every second of every day.

He had never stopped missing you, loving you. No, he still searched for things that reminded him of you. The blankets you had picked out all those years ago are still draped over his couch. And now there's a shred of hope blossoming within him that his apartment may be your shared space once more.

The only issue is that he's not even sure you want him back. He doesn't know if you're seeing somebody else, or if you even want a relationship at all; especially with him. After all, you had left for good reason so why would you want to come back?

The pessimism and optimism wrestle in his mind as he finishes tying his tie in the mirror. Spencer hadn't been working at the university long enough to have any real acquaintances or friends, and usually that would stress him out. But tonight, all he's focused on is you.

He wants to see who you show up with and get a gauge of your feelings towards him. Spencer is still fairly confident he can read your body language. And he promises to himself that if you show up with a man, or act disinterested, that he will leave you alone and look for another job. After all, you were there first and he doesn't want you to feel suffocated in your place of work. Plus, he knows he wouldn't be able to share the halls with you without speaking to you. The wound would never heal, but then again, he's had five years to heal it yet it remains open.

Spencer hands the valet his car keys as he walks inside the high-end dinner. The lights are moody and it feels like something straight out of a movie. He joins the line to be seated, and there he spots you for the first time, looking around and talking to Jamie.

On his first day Jamie had found her way to his office to introduce herself. She taught in the humanities department and was friendly enough, Spencer liked her, he thought she may prove to be a helpful friend to have around. His nerves were still at an all time high as she explained who had offices in this hall as well, and his interest piqued when she mentioned your name. He contained his surprise and thanked Jamie for coming by. Once he opened the card that was left on the floor of his office, it was glaringly obvious you had no idea he was the new guy, for you had signed the card,

"We're so glad to have you here, can't wait to meet you! Welcome to the team!" Followed by your signature. He would recognize that signature anywhere. He remembers seeing it scrawled across sticky notes you used to leave in his bag, ones he would find while he was out working a case. He always looked forward to finding those notes, it was like having a piece of you there with him. And if he's honest, they still reside in an interior pocket of his bag, he could never find the resolve to get rid of them.

He watches as you and Jamie get seated, and he feels nerves creep up his spine. What if this all ends badly? He doesn't want you to run out of the even like you did the break room, no, that was the last thing he wanted to happen. All he wants is to gauge your reaction when you notice him, that's all. That will be enough for him to make his decision.

After a few long minutes had passed, he was finally being seated. While he followed the host he scanned the room for you but failed to see you amongst the sea of people. Surely you were here somewhere. Thanking the host as he took his seat, he took a deep breath and became acquainted with his surroundings. This was a large group table, there are likely others to be seated around him, so maybe he will make some new friends after all.

He's just about to open the menu when he catches the glimmer of jewelry out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he sees that it's you sitting just across from him. He's been sat beside Jamie, and he can tell from their stiff posture that they've both noticed him.

Averting his gaze quickly, he tries to think of how to handle the situation but comes up with no good answers. So he settles on just trying to make it through the dinner and to get a decent read of your body language without you noticing him looking at you.

All of which is easier said than done. Every time he goes to sneak a glance at you, it seems that your eyes are already on him. He doesn't miss the way your drinking increases or how you fidget with the necklace resting on your chest.

The night passes unbearably slowly until it seems like it's coming to an abrupt end. Jamie leaves the table to talk to other friends, leaving just you and Spencer alone at the table. Unable to keep his eyes off of you any longer, he glances over and sees you finish off your third glass of wine for the night. And judging by the way your eyes dance across the people in the room, you're on the hunt for another, likely because his presence has unnerved you.

You go to stand from your seat when something inexplicable happens. Before Spencer can comprehend why he's doing this, the word just tumbles out of his mouth, just a simple,

"Hello."

The word seems to have made you sit back down, and he quickly assess that as being receptive to what he has to say. You clear your throat, buying yourself some time before answering.

"Hi." Your voice is airy and like music to Spencer's ears. How he's missed hearing your voice.

The shred of hope within him grows, and he only hopes this conversation goes well.

- - - - -

The two of you are unable to break each other's gaze. Your eyes stare into his with intensity and your heart pounds in your chest. For a second you're worried you might have a heart attack because of the quick pace.

"You look lovely tonight." Spencer tells you, a ghost of a smile teasing the edge of his lips. You glance down at your dress.

"Thank you, you clean up pretty well too." You tell him the truth.

You're not sure where this is going to go, you feel as if you're treading in dangerous waters and you're not sure if you're going to be rescued or swallowed up. Spencer glances down at the tablecloth and smiles softly.

"Thank you." He says, looking back up into your eyes.

The two of you fall into a silence and you're not quite sure what to do from here. There's so much that's left unsaid but you don't know if you have the nerve to say any of it. But after a few minutes pass without anything, you rise from the table, unable to be so close yet so far from him.

"Goodnight, I hope you enjoy the rest of the dinner." You keep your exit friendly and turn to go stand on the curb and wait for an Uber. You don't want to end Jamie's fun, you'll just send her a text that you caught a ride home.

The night air is chilly and it sends a shiver up your spine so you wrap your arms around yourself. You unlock your phone and are just about to request a ride when you hear footsteps coming from behind. Looking to your right you see Spencer, lips parted and eyes scanning your face.

"I can take you home, if you want of course. I drove here and it wouldn't be a problem at all. I was probably going to head out soon anyways." His words are rushed and slightly jumbled, but send butterflies straight to your stomach.

"That would be nice." You accept his offer, feeling the familiar tingle of nerves engulfing your body. He nods and smiles before offering you his arm to take.

Hesitantly, you reach out and loop your arm with his. He's warm and oh so familiar. The two of you walk in stride together, and you take a shaky breath to keep your emotions in check. A gentle breeze carries the scent of his cologne into your nose and it transports you back to a time you reminisce about frequently.

You look up at Spencer as you walk, noticing how much more grown up he looks now. Stubble lines his jaw more noticeably, his arms feel sturdier, the smile lines by his eyes more prominent, but still the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes on.

Feeling your gaze on him, he looks down at you and smiles kindly. Your eyes burn and you look forward, seeing his car only a few rows back. It almost doesn't feel real.

Spencer opens the door for you and you sit in the passenger seat. Before he gets in, you pinch your leg harshly, reminding yourself that this is very much real and is actually happening. Suddenly your palms feel sweaty and your throat feels tighter. The sound of Spencer closing his door snaps you out of it.

Without asking for directions, Spencer drives off into the night. The streetlights offer a warm glow as he passes street after street. You pick at the edges of your nails as he drives, not feeling confident enough to say anything, you honestly don't even know what to say. And you're so distracted you don't even realize where he's taken you until he turns the car off. Looking out the window, you see his apartment building.

"If you want, I'd like for you to come inside for a little bit. If not, just tell me where you want me to take you." His voice wavers with nerves. The car is dark, but you're close enough to see him. Nodding your head, you reach for the doorhandle.

"I can come in." Your voice is like a whisper.

You follow Spencer up the stairs to his apartment, and you take it all in. You never thought you'd see this place again. Stepping inside, you see that not a lot has changed. There are some new pictures on the walls and there's an entirely new bookcase in the living room, but it's almost just as you left it. A moment frozen in time.

Spencer drops his keys on the counter and hangs his coat on the rack beside the door. You take a deep breath as you realize the last time you two were here together, he was pleading with you not to leave.

"Would you like any water?" He asks and you shake your head,

"No, I'm okay, thank you though." You decline and watch as he loosens the tie around his neck.

"I didn't know you pursued teaching." He ignites the conversation again and tries to make it all seem more casual by rearranging things that clutter the dining table.

"Yeah, I started about a year ago."

"Do you like it?" He asks, pausing his rearranging to give you his undivided attention.

"I do. Well, so far at least. Each semester its like the courses become richer with content and I just love seeing the passion some of them have. It's inspiring. Why'd you start teaching?" You open up a little in an attempt to shake the tension that hangs in the air between you. Spencer chews on his lip before answering.

"We were working a case and I got shot in the knee, and it ruptured some tendons. And my choices were to either work strictly behind a desk or pursue something else." At the mention of him being shot, you eyes widen and your jaw falls slack.

"You got shot?" An all too familiar feeling of anxiety shoots through you and you remember how many nights you stayed awake contemplating that very thing happening.

"I did, but as you can see it wasn't fatal." He cracks a small smile, but all you can think of is how easily he could've been taken from this world.

"Well I'm glad it wasn't." You truthfully tell him. A life without Spencer in it is quite miserable, but living in a world without Spencer would be like swimming in a lake of fire; torturous and inconceivable.

"Me too. But it forced me to put things into perspective, to slow down and enjoy what life has to offer." You're not sure if his choice of words is intentional, or what exactly he means by telling you this. But there's a small, optimistic part of you that can only imagine why he's saying these things.

"I'm sure it's not an easy adjustment." You elect to skirt around the question you want to ask, not knowing if you're just being foolishly hopeful or not. Spencer nods and motions to the living room,

"Would you like to sit down?" He asks, looking down at the heels you're wearing.

"That would be nice." You say and sit down on the leather couch, where you always used to sit. It almost feels like the couch remembers you. And your eyes catch the blanket draped over the back, you remember it well as you have the other one still.

Spencer sits next to you, the two of you close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. It takes everything within you to not just lean into him and act like nothing ever happened. You miss him so much, you miss his touch, you miss his kisses, you miss his love.

"How have you been?" The question feels out of place, but you're not exactly sure of what would feel right. Meeting his eyes again, you tell him the truth.

"There have been a lot of ups and downs. Long story short I pursued a new career, as you've found out, moved two different times, visited Europe, and then I was engaged but broke it off." Your voice dies at the end, still feeling guilty over breaking yet another heart with the failed engagement.

"Engaged?" Spencer's voice is tight and filled with worry.

"I was, but I couldn't follow through with it." You tell him. Though you're not sure why you're spilling everything, but it just feels like the right thing to do.

"Why not?" He asks, his eyes dancing between your eyes, your hands, and your lips. You shrug,

"He just wasn't the right one. But how have you been?" You ask, already knowing about one girlfriend he had. Spencer's eyebrows raise,

"Well, I stayed with the FBI up until just recently, I made some friends and lost some, and I had a girlfriend, but that didn't end well either." He says though you're sure he's summarizing dramatically, as you had also done.

"Oh. Well I'm sorry about the FBI and about your, your girlfriend." The word is almost impossible for you to say, but you force yourself to.

"Don't be sorry. I guess she just wasn't the right one." He whispers as his eyes finally land on your again.

Your lips fall slack and you can't help but look between his eyes and lips, remembering what they felt like over every square inch of your body. And it's as if Spencer has his own gravitational pull, but you find yourself leaning further and further towards him until his hand lands on top of yours.

His larger hand completely engulfs yours, and you look down to see him holding your hand with such gentleness. The feeling of his skin on yours is almost enough to bring you to tears. Five years you had spent trying to remember what he felt like, yearning to have him in front of you, to be able to see him, hear him, smell him, have him again.

By the time you look back up from your hands, his other had already come up to your face to cradle your jaw. Your lips meet his tenderly, softly, as if you were both afraid the other would jump away.

But instead, it's like you melt into each other. With your free hand, you grip the front of his shirt and pull him closer. Your lips fall into a long forgotten rhythm as if no time had passed. His lips as soft against yours and you feel his hand let go of your own and wrap around your waist. Pressed against one another, you wish this moment would never end.

Your lungs burn for oxygen, so you pull away from Spencer's kiss and rest your forehead against his. You keep hold of him, afraid that if you let go that you'll wake up from some kind of cruel dream. With closed eyes, you take it all in, it's so much more than you could've ever dreamed of.

"I've missed you every day for the last five years. And I am so sorry that I drove you away." Spencer's voice wavers. Leaning away from him, you hold his head in your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. There are tears in his waterline, and the tremble in his lower lip makes your own eyes water.

"Spencer, oh Spencer." You say as tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. You rest your head against his shoulder and the two of you cling to each other as you cry.

"I have spent every single day missing you and loving you. And I'm sorry I walked away." You say as another round of tears fall down your face, landing on his shirt. Instead of answering, he just holds you tighter, and whatever you don't express in words is made clear in the way you two meld together.

"I love you so much." He eventually says, letting you adjust in his grasp.

"I love you, Spencer Reid." You tell him, knowing that it's the full and honest truth.

You're not sure what you did to deserve this opportunity, to be reunited with the love of your life, but you choose not to question it. Instead, you kiss him again and know that this time you're not going to let him go. All you know is that you're his, and he is yours, until the end of your days.

And that is more than you could have ever wished for.

- - - - -

Three months after being reunited, you and Spencer had fallen into a comfortable routine. You had moved back in after the two of you had a long discussion about what the future of your relationship means to the two of you. Both of you agreed that nothing on this planet was worth jeopardizing the relationship, not after the most agonizing five years without each other.

You're beyond happy that you finally get to come home with him every day, that he's able to be here for holidays and everything in between. The two of you do your best to make up for lost time, you relish every moment you get with him, no matter how small or insignificant that time may be.

Everything had changed in the five years that you spent apart, and you both had grown up in several ways. Not drastically, but enough that you needed to get to know one another again. Date nights are spent talking about newfound interests and what has remained the same. Nothing feels strained or forced anymore, it's all tranquil and full of love.

One night, after you had gone to bed early, Spencer finds himself sitting at the dining table with a velvet box in his hands. He opens it and looks over the ring he had bought over five years ago. And now he knows that it will finally reside on the hand it was meant for. With a smile on his lips, he slides the box into his suit pocket for the date he planned for tomorrow.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fanfiction #taylor swift #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #Spotify

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

the clash | iv. london calling

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, smoking weed, alcohol, mentions of a gwen canon event, mentions of death, lil angst

a/n: nother long one! i can’t wait to make it crazy angsty bc when i tell u i have THOUGHTS 👀 thank you to everyone who’s reading, i’m trying to update it every day, so hopefully i can stick with that schedule! enjoy this chapter, friends :)

now reading: iv. london calling

previous chapter: iii. black planet

next chapter: v. ever fallen in love

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He fixes his watch to open a portal to his world. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr basically run to get to it. He motions for you to go ahead, and you walk through. Immediately when you step into his room, you’re hit with the smell of weed and incense. You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You glance around. You see drums, another electric and acoustic guitar, empty spray paint cans, spray paint on the walls, stacks of newspapers (all defaced in some way)… it feels very Hobie to say the least. “Now this. This is a livin’ area,” he says, appearing behind you. You shake your head. “So loud, both figuratively and literally. How do you ever get anything done?”

“By being louder than everyone else, obviously,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. “What a way to live,” you remark. “Better than that quiet, dark, and gloomy, way,” he retorts, and you shrug. “If you say so.”

“Hey, Hobie, do you still have the roof all decorated?” Gwen asks and he nods. “Course I do. I own the place, head on up,” he jerks his head upwards, and Gwen turns to Miles and Pavitr with a smirk. “Race ya!”

“Hey no fair! You have been here so many times!” Pavitr yells as Gwen takes off. “Come on, Miles!” you hear her yell. Miles smiles gently and shakes his head before going after the two of them. “He’s so obsessed with her it’s making me sick,” you mumble, and Hobie snorts. “What? Miles and Gwen’s relationship too much for you? You hate love?”

“Love has never done anything but cause me pain. And not the good kind,” you glance at him with a frown, and he raises his eyebrow. Suddenly his eyes get wide. “Oh shit… you had a Gwen canon event.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you respond, and he frowns. “You know, actually talkin’ about that kinda shit is a good way to not sit on it and let it build. You could face some serious problems if you keep doin’ that.”

“Who said I gave a fuck what you think? I didn’t ask for the unneeded advice, alright?” you say, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Oh, right. Forgot I was dealing with a bloody doughnut,” he mumbles and point to the window. “Care to go to the roof and get out of my sight?”

“Sound like the best thing you’ve said since I got here,” you say, leaping out of his window and climbing up the side of the building. While clinging to the wall, you glance out at Hobie’s world. His city looks almost exactly like Night of Yore City, except for the fact that there are a shit ton of fires burning, over half of the buildings look abandoned, the sky is a reddish-orangish hue, and it is so much louder. The name is also vastly different, as his version of NYC is New London. Universal differences get weird and confusing. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued, you turn around, putting your back against the wall and supporting yourself with your hands and feet. The graffitied buildings are a nice touch, you must admit. You snort to yourself when you see a mural of Hobie. If only they knew the asshole behind the mask.

“Now why the hell aren’t you up there with everyone else?” you hear his voice pull you out of your thoughts as he crawls up next to you. You shrug. “I’m a sucker for views, I guess.”

“Well, believe it or not, view is a lot better from the top of the buildin’,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Can I please just be secluded and observe in peace?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Come on,” he says, starting to walk up the wall. You sigh and lazily roll backwards and up the wall to come to standing and follow him up. When you get to the top of the roof, you see a boombox (blaring punk music, of course) and blankets surrounding a barrel with a fire going in it. Multiple coolers decorate the roof which all look stockpiled full of different beers. “Hey, Hobie, you know that they’re all kids, right?”

“New universe, new rules, love. Drinking age is 16 and up ‘round here, not that I’d give a fuck if it wasn’t anyway. So, sit down, shut up, and drink a damn beer. Maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says, tossing you a random bottle. You roll your eyes and sit down but put the beer to the side.

“Hey, Hobie, do you have any of that–” Miles gets cut off by Hobie tossing him another bottle. “Nice. Thanks, dude,” he says excitedly, cracking the top and taking a drink. Gwen gets her beer of choice, and Pavitr does the same. Hobie, you notice, doesn’t drink anything. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Gwen asks, pointing between the two of you with her bottle. “What?” you ask, and she shrugs. “You guys were alone in Hobie’s for a while and no one died, soooo did you guys finally talk about something you could agree on?”

“We can’t agree on nothin’, Gwen. They were just bein’ their usual self and annoyin’ the shit out of me at any chance they could get,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “Good to know it worked, mate”

“Stop imitatin’ me, poser.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll make you.”

“Try me, Hobart.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that. What were you guys talking about?” Miles asks, and you and Hobie look at each other. “Just asked where the bathroom was,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You weren’t necessarily ready to reveal you faced the Gwen canon event. Especially not to another Gwen. At least Hobie isn’t enough of a dick to bring it up in front of them. “Oh, yeah, you did change into your everyday clothes. Don’t know how I didn’t notice that,” Gwen states, taking another swig of her beer. You had changed in your apartment after cleaning your wound, but you don’t say anything. Hobie nods at you, and you nod back.

“Why aren’t you drinking anything (Y/n)? Here, try this it’s so good,” Pavitr pushes his bottle toward you, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to drink, but thanks Pavitr,” you say, and he frowns. “Awww.” You smile slightly at how disappointed he sounds. “Well, I want to remember everything you all tell me without it being fuzzy because I was hoping you could let me know a little bit more about all the spider people in Spider Society. I’m still new, you four, Peter B. Parker, and Miguel are the only ones I’ve really met.”

With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr start telling you everything they know. You learn about Jessica Drew, Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and so many more. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr talk for hours, and since they’re kids, they do not know when to stop drinking. Eventually, the three of them are passed out. Miles is cradling Gwen’s side with his head on her chest as she wraps one of her arms around him, and Pavitr is laying straight on his back, lightly snoring. You giggle softly at the sight. Suddenly the punk music you’ve been listening to for the past however many hours gets softer. You glance over to where it is and see Hobie bent over and turning it down. “Don’t wanna wake ‘em,” he mumbles, walking over to you. The volume of the city has decreased quite a bit, and with the low hum of music coming from the boombox now, his world is actually kind of enjoyable. Though you’d never tell him that. He motions to the skyline, and you turn and look. He was right, as much as you hate to admit it. The view is a lot better from up here.

“Why didn’t you drink anythin’?” he asks, and you shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Why didn’t you drink anything?” He shrugs and pulls out a rolled cigarette from his vest pocket. “Got somethin’ better.”

“And you didn’t offer any to them?”

“Hey, they can drink here, they don’t need to mess with this shit. ‘Sides I knew they’d be pissed. Gonna have a god-awful hangover tomorrow,” he says, pulling out a lighter. You shake your head. “They can’t mess with your shit, but I can?”

“The two of us are the same age. We’re ‘adults’ or whatever the fuck that means. Are you too stuck up to be ‘round some grass or somethin’?”

“No, Hobie, I don’t give a fuck if you smoke weed. Building manager might, though.”

“Love, I am the building manager. This place is abandoned, so it belongs to me. And you’re not tellin’ me I’m supposed to smoke this myself?” he asks with a sly smirk on his face. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Actually I am.” He groans, putting the joint to his lips and lighting the end of it.

“Do you know how to have any fun?”

“Do you know how to have any–” Before you can finish, he puts his finger over your mouth, and raises the joint to his lips again. He takes a deep breath in, blowing out the excess smoke and glancing at you. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Don’t care. The answer is no.”

“Have you ever actually tried listening to anything anyone says?” “Nah. I don’t listen to no one. I’m me, and if people don’t like that, good,” he says, taking another drag. He glances over at you and holds the joint out. “Y’sure you don’t want some?”

“You actually want to share with me?”

“I want you to not be as much as a ragin’ fuckwit, so yes,” he blows smoke in your face, and you glare at him. “If I take one hit, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“Probably not, but it would sure make me happier.” You roll your eyes, and take the joint from him, taking a drag. He watches you. He’d never admit it, but he wishes you weren’t such an asshole. The way you look doing that in the moonlight? Stunning. You pass the joint back to him, some of the smoke coming out of your nose. “Stop staring at me.”

“Just makin’ sure you did it right and didn’t waste my shit,” he says, taking another drag. “I know how to hit a joint, Hobie.”

“Really? Never would have guessed you’d do anything remotely excitin’.”

“Oh, please. You barely know me,” you say, angrier than you probably should be. “Then tell me about yourself, love.”

“Hard pass,” you say, and he groans. “I get the desire to stay anonymous and mysterious, obviously, but come on. Chances are we’re gonna be seein’ each other more than either of us wants to, so just open up a bit,” he says, and you frown. “There’s nothing you need to know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you.”

“I killed Norman Osborn with my guitar after defeatin’ him and all of his V.E.N.O.M. forces and successfully led a rebellion against fascism,” he says smugly, “Until those other fuckin’ Nazis showed up, but one day I promise you this world? Will be capitalist and fascist free.”

“No, it won’t. Am I supposed to be impressed?” you ask with a deadpan face. He scoffs. “Damn, you’re a wanker. I’d like to see you try and defeat the V.E.N.O.M. forces. From what I seen your world’s villains are rubbish,” he says and to his surprise, and yours, you laugh. A hint of a smile plays on his features, but you shake your head. “Green Goblin is, you’re right, but... there are others who are much worse. And what the fuck is a venom force? You’re saying that like I should just know what it is.”

“It was a symbiote that– wait, you sayin’ you don’t know what venom is? That’s something every spider-person deals with at some point,” he says, and you shrug. “Guess I haven’t dealt with it yet.”

“Yeah, well, when you do, call me cause you’ll need my help,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die than get help from you.”

“I helped you today, love.”

“I could have done that myself,” you retort, and he shakes his head, taking another drag. “I guess I should thank you though.”

“Hmm?”

“For not telling them what we were really talking about,” you say, and he hums. “What they won’t know won’t kill ‘em. But just so you know I was being so serious. Not talkin’ about that shit is more harmful than good,” he says, and you frown. “I’m not much of a talker.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up,” you groan, and he laughs. He loves pissing you off, might be his favorite thing to do now. But the conversation might actually need to get serious. He may hate you, but he’s Spider-Punk for the people, and you’re apart of that people. He’s there to help, so he may as well try with you.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why not? Why won’t you talk about it?” he asks, and you huff. “Because it was my fault, and I don’t want to think about it.”

“Nah, I bet it wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles, taking another drag. You glare at him. “Oh, right, I forgot you were there when their neck snapped after I tried to save them,” you spit, and he glances at you. You can feel that hit starting to affect you, that’s the only reason you said anything about… the incident. Of course, Hobie has good shit, why wouldn’t he. “What were you trying to save them from?” he asks, his voice oddly calm. “The Prowler,” you reply, “He’s the worst of the worst in my universe.” He hums and nods. “Well then, reckon it’s the Prowler’s fault then, innit?”

“What? But I’m the one who couldn’t get to them in time after he–”

“He did it, (Y/n). You did your best, but it ain’t your fault what happened there. That’s what they want you to think. Try and get that through your thick skull, would you?” he says, and you scoff, “They?”

He nods, and you go quiet. He glances over at you as you just sit and stare out at the city. “Stop doin’ ‘at.”

“Doing what?”

“Blamin’ yourself,” he says, taking another long drag. You sigh. “I can’t help it,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “You can. Just takes time,” he responds. You scoff, “You’d think three years would be enough time.” You look out at his city. It’s so different from yours, but you can still see the beauty in it. And you can see the stars. None of the constellations of your world are here, but the sky is still beautiful. “If you need a place to crash, my couch is very comfortable and has your name written all over it,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “I should probably just go back to my universe–”

“No way. No dimension hopping under the influence,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I had one hit,” you say, and he shrugs. “And one hit is enough for you to think you’re goin’ home only to end up in Peter Porker’s shower. You’re stayin’ here tonight.” You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m insufferable for watchin’ out for your well-bein’? Okay, sure.”

“I don’t need you to watch out for me. I don’t need anyone,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Too good for everyone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Like you wouldn’t say the same thing,” you say, and he shrugs. “You’re right. I would say I don’t need anyone, because I don’t. Especially not a miserable thing like you,” he says, and you frown. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Fuck you.”

The two of you just glare at each other for a bit before he flicks the butt of his joint off the building. “Goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Shut up and follow me back to my place,” he says, getting up and walking down the building. You follow, yawning as you realize just how tired you are. When you get back inside Hobie’s place, he points at the couch. “Lay there, and don’t move until mornin’, got it?”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“Amazin’. Just don’t wake me up, and I won’t give a fuck,” he says, walking into his bedroom and kicking his door shut. You roll your eyes and lay down on his couch. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, and you find yourself actually dozing off faster than you anticipated. Hobie walks out of his room to get a drink of water and ready to fight you verbally again, only to see you passed out on his couch with literally no blanket or pillow.

He sighs, grabbing a throw blanket off his bed and gently placing it on top of you. In the morning, you wake up before everyone else. You notice the blanket, and know only one person could have done that, but you don’t feel like sticking around to say anything. You just go home. But before you do, you leave a little note saying, ‘didn’t need your sympathy, thanks but no thanks,’ and draw a little middle finger.

He’ll get the hint you appreciated it.

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2K notes · View notes

slashersidewhore · 1 year

Text

Slashers! S/O seeing them maskless for the first time

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair,

Requested: yes

Warnings: mentions of killing, beefy murder boyfriends, sprinkle of angst, that cute shit

Michael Myers

I think seeing him without a mask would take awhile, he’s not one to reveal much about himself

It would probably just be out of the blue as well

You’d be chilling on the couch, reading or going on your phone or something

Although you never really heard him approach you’d feel his… presence

Glancing up and caught off guard by the fact you’re looking at skin, not an emotionless face of blank white

Probably drop whatever you’re holding from the shock of it

Michael has a large scar across his eye, (and depending on which timeline this is in, maybe also burns)

I see him as someone who isn’t self conscious of looks, despite the mask wearing

The mask is a representation to how he feels in a way, blank, I mean we all know he’s not unattractive by any scale

He wouldn’t say anything either, just stand there staring at you waiting

If this OG Myers, your silence is irksome

If this is RZ Myers, your silence is indicating he’s made the wrong move

Either way both versions are somewhat comforted when you slide off the cushions to make your way over

Warm palms gently caress the sides of his face

Don’t think he’s gonna close his eyes and lean into your hand all cutesy though, no way

He’s just staring, expressionless, into your eyes

Maybe he serves a classic head tilt

Kinda like silently asking, “what do you think”

Of course you’d just smile and lean in for a kiss

It’s slightly one sided but that’s okay, you love your brick wall

Jason Voorhees

Honestly, it was probably an accident

Like he gets some kind of injury, or something similar in the facial region

So naturally when he’s finished with his… “work”, he goes to fix it up

And in order to do that, he removes his safeguard

Jason knows he was seen differently as a kid because of his deformity, the mask is his safety net, a way to look at his reflection without becoming sick

So when it’s perched on the bathroom counter top, and you come waltzing in, let’s just say he imagined this differently

Never wanted to see you without the hockey mask

Even to kiss, he would just place the plastic to your skin

But now it’s just…

It’s really awkward

I’m not even gonna lie

Y’all just standing there, eyes wide staring at one another, you could hear a pin drop

He lunges for the mask but is stopped by a hand clutching his own

You probably didn’t even mean to do it, your body just reacted naturally

Now Jason can’t meet your eyes, he’s staring at the ground in shame

Not wanting to push any boundaries and touch his face, you just tug on the hand in your grasp

Slowly but surely, he meets your eyes

He looks, very comfortable, like lord take me now level uncomfortable

He expects disgust in your eyes, and is caught off guard by the stars twinkling in them

His entire body relaxes

He shoulders drop, his hand clasps with yours finally

And the two of you continue to gaze at one another

Although this time, instead of it being awkward, it’s love

Thomas Hewitt

I’d imagine if Tommy trusts you, at some point he’d let you take it off

It would probably be after a long day, everyone is tired

Especially Thomas

He’d been working in the Texas heat for hours, and no matter how tough this man is, we all need a break eventually

You’re sat in your shared bedroom, on the bed, something keeping you occupied

In strolls the man himself

He’s clearly exhausted, even showered still smelling of the usual sweaty musk

Taking a seat on the mattress beside you, his hair is partially over his face as he angles it to you

The silence is peaceful, even with his usual heavy breathing

Your hands gently caress his leather covered cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss to the bare skin of his forehead

As you go to pull away, ready to turn in for sleep, a much larger hand lands on one of your own

Big, wide, and a dark blue eyes watch your expression shift as his hand guides yours to the straps at the back of his mask

Now, Tommy didn’t sleep with his mask on

That’s a safety hazard

But, he only ever took it off once it was dark in the room, and always put it on before you woke up

The current apprehension in his eyes was melting away as you gradually began to smile

And Tommy just loved seeing you smile

Unbuckling the tough straps, you were quick to lay the now unnecessary item somewhere beside the two of you

Hoyt must be one dumb son of a bitch if he’s calling the face before you ugly

He has no nose, more than a few scars you’ve heard about before scattered across his delicate skin

You can practically hear his heart beating out of his chest

In attempts to quell them, you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips

Although this only makes it beat faster

Vincent Sinclair

Bo’s fault

Like 99.99%

Vincent isn’t shy, he’s just reserved, let’s be clear

But that doesn’t mean he feels completely confident in himself, especially when it comes to you

So imagine one day you’re just trying to find Vincent

And instead of silence you’re beginning to hear shouting, specifically Bo’s shouting, echoing down the hall

Then a sharp clank of something breaking

This only quickened your pace until you were standing in the kitchen as well

Vincent was kneeling over his once whole mask, now split down the middle

“Bo can you give us a minute”

You didn’t bother to pull your eyes from the man on the floor, placing a soft hand on his back as you heard footsteps leave the rom

Long, dark hair covered his features, body slouched in a way that couldn’t be comfortable

He never wanted you to see him like this

He knew he wasn’t blessed with visual beauty

He just didn’t want you to inevitability leave when you discovered what he always hid away

But your hand was firm on his back, careful yet making sure you he knew you were there

“Vincent, do you want me to leave?”

Honestly yes

He probably does want you to leave

Get this over with and let him realize he’s alone again

But for some reason he slowly shakes his head no

The palm on his back moves past his hair, cradling his disfigured jaw

You don’t jump from the odd texture of the scarring, nor the bumps and ridges

It anchors him enough to face you, prepared for anything

Although he wasn’t prepared for the little smile on your face

Or the way you shuffled closer so you could place a gentle, chaste kiss to his scarring

Requests are open!

#thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #jason voorhees #michael myers #slasher #thomas hewitt x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #slashers x reader insert #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slashers fanfic #slashers fanfiction #slashers headcanons

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ohraicodoll · 1 year

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Territorial

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.6k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Warning: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Violence. Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI

She didn’t care when Jackson got new people. She wasn’t one of the regulars that crowded around the entrance, watching patrol bring them through, so similar to how they joined. No, she didn’t care because the rest of Jackson didn’t matter, just the two people she currently lived with. If it didn’t have to do with Joel and Ellie, she didn’t care. So it was at least a month before she met Harper, when she was added to their patrol duty.

The other women in town, the ones that frequently fawned over Joel Miller, were different from his companion and she knew that. Her insecurity frequently reminded her that she didn’t belong in Jackson with these women that still took the time to dress up and do their hair. But she had seen Joel downright ignore their flirting enough times, had heard him reassure her that wasn’t the type he was interested in. Someone to watch his back. With teeth, he had said. Harper had teeth. She was a good shot, wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and never complained about the work. She got along well with Maria, with everyone really, able to get them to talk about their interests and lives easily and seemed like an open book. Harper helped with the horses and in the food hall and knew how to cook and how to clean a rifle properly. And to her dismay, as she watched the patrol party enter the gates where she definitely wasn’t waiting for the man she lived with, Harper could make Joel smile. Not a smirk or a condescending tilt of the lips, but an actual smile. She watched them dismount from the horses and the woman laughed at something Joel said, his lips curving into a grin, and her heart dropped in her stomach. Because she wasn’t sure the man had ever smiled like that around her. Easy and charming, relaxed. Suddenly she was the old version of herself, anxious and unsure, insecure in her own skin and embarrassed. All her faults and problems blared in her head alongside the echo of the threat hanging over her head. Assimilate or get kicked out of Jackson. She was on her last strike after three rough months of living there while this woman had shown up and fit in better than she ever could after only a month. Her nails dug into her thigh sharply, the small hints of pain trying to keep her grounded. She’d almost convinced herself to turn around and walk home, leave before Joel could see her standing there with all her defects, but then his eyes met hers. And if she didn’t feel awful enough, his smile dimmed a bit, became unsure and almost bashful. Like he didn’t want her to see it. She wondered if Harper had noticed his eyes were more hazel than brown when he was in a good mood. They both walked over to her and she stood there, stiff and stabbing into her own skin, wanting to bolt. Harper turned to her, light hair catching the sun and blue eyes glistening. Perfect and still pretty even after the world went to shit while she was very aware she hadn’t brushed her hair in three days. “Oh hi, I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she smiled sweetly, adjusting the rifle on her back and the bandana around her neck. Joel cleared his throat, nodding towards her and ignoring the furrowed brow that was permanently on her face around strangers, “Harper, this is Red. Red, Harper.” “I’ve heard so much about you. Red’s such an interesting name,” she smiled with a light chuckle though it wasn’t as wide as the one that had been aimed at Joel, her eyes roaming over her. Taking her measure. She only frowned and ignored her eye contact, staring at Joel’s shoulder instead. “It’s not my name,” the words were quiet but raspy, a growl. Harper’s smile tightened in the corner of her eye. The silence weighed between them, stifling, and Joel cleared his throat, “Harper happens to be from Austin. We frequented some of the same spots surprisingly.” The words were almost an explanation or an apology, or an excuse. She didn’t reply, eyes still solely focused on his shoulder and avoiding looking at either of them. Small talk was hard on most occasions but this seemed impossible. She wasn’t sure how she should reply to that. Congrats? Good job finding another person you could easily talk to besides me? She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling uncomfortable and desperately wanting to run, words stuck until she nodded and spit out, “I’ll see you at the house later.” His brow had furrowed when she swiveled on her heel and started walking down the street, rigid and feeling the small welts of blood seeping into her jeans from her nails. ___________________ It wasn’t long before she started seeing Harper everywhere and she grit her teeth every time.

When she walked into the bar, the location on her list of places to search for Ellie, she found Joel and Tommy chatting with the woman at the bar top. She was talking rapidly, a smile on her face and hands waving as she told some story. A hand talker. Tommy was behind the bar, leaning on it and seeming enraptured by the conversation while Joel was standing with his elbow resting on the counter, body fully turned to face Harper. All three chuckled at something and she watched as her hand landed on Joel’s arm, staying there a few seconds too long before sliding off. Too lingering to be innocent. She wanted to snap her teeth at her, go up to them and put her hand on his back or in his belt loops, a move he’d done so often to her. Push him against the countertop and take his mouth with hers or even straight grab Harper’s perfect hair and slam her face against the table. A million images flashed through her head only to come to a halt at remembering her predicament. Joel’s urges to try to join the community or risk getting kicked out. She knew she was a fine thread away from getting booted. One wrong step out the door and probably bashing in perfect new girl Harper’s face would do the trick faster than she could blink. So instead she pivoted, snarl in her throat, and walked out the bar. Harper became a regular on Joel’s shift. She only worked with the newcomer a couple times. She was good and that irritated her. The woman was a survivor and knew how to handle herself and watch out for others. All the things she usually found lacking in the townspeople and hated, Harper had that and more. She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge and the growing list of the woman’s skills. They’d been scouting out a small location, a couple of cabins a few hours away from Jackson. She’d rode to the far side of them and gotten off, checking the houses for anyone hiding out or seeing if there was anything good to scavenge. When she heard the sound of glass shattering and heavy thumps a few houses down, voices crying out, her heart almost pounded out of her chest. That’s where Joel had been checking. She’d ran fast, bow out, feet carrying her quicker than she’d ever run before on the muddy Spring ground. Previous moments flashed in her mind. Too many close calls. Joel’s blood on her hands from a stab wound. Joel hurt. But the action was already over as she barreled into the room. A Clicker lay bleeding out on the floor, a large hatchet stuck in the fungi petals of its face, mouth in a grotesque scream. Joel was panting on the floor with his back against the corner, pistol in hand unfired, while Harper stood over the infected triumphant. With a grin, she ripped the hatchet from its head and walked over to Joel, offering him a hand. She felt useless. Harper had his back. Teeth. _____________________________ Tommy had finally found her a job she was actually fairly decent at, after being taken off both kitchen and farming duty, but noticing she seemed calmest with animals. People didn’t want to work with her and in her mind that was fine, but in Maria’s it made her a problem. But she liked the dog kennels. They weren’t unlike her. She could understand their wants and needs, their habits and what they deemed their territory. Training them wasn’t easy but it was rewarding and it came with the added benefit that she was around the animals more often than people. She didn’t have to be talkative or put on a mask. They knew hand signs, could read her feelings and what she wanted. It felt comfortable to be with them. Often in the morning she would go and feed the dogs, go over their exercises, walk them in the outside yard they had set aside behind the kennels. Ellie had fallen in love with them as well and sometimes would tag along, was even there when one of the dogs gave birth. She’d been grossed out initially but once the blood and the goo and all the disgusting parts of birth was over and done with she held the small puppies in her hands and helped them find spots to feed. Joel had come a few times, watched them with arms resting on the pen door as they sat in the hay and held the tiny jelly bean puppies. Ellie had grinned, taking over naming duty, and had even held one up forcing Joel to name one. He’d frowned, shrugging at the little brown squirming blob, scratching at his beard, “I don’t know, Brownie?” “Really?” Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “So original. Naming it after its color.” “You named me after my shirt,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. Those first few days when she hadn’t known how to interact but knew she had to make sure the girl was safe. Unwilling to give any piece of herself, especially her name. So Ellie had formed a piece from the rubble and taken it for herself. Ellie huffed with a sniff, nose turning up, and ignored the dig, “Whatever, Red suited you.” She held the squirming puppies in her lap, watching them seek warmth while holding a small container of sugared ice for the mama to lick and enjoy after pushing out ten little bodies, “Good thing I wasn’t wearing a different colored shirt.” Joel’s eyes were on her and she looked up at him, finding him watching her with the slightest tilt of his lips. She knew he was worried about her, had already been fighting tooth and nail with his brother and his pregnant wife over her position. He was working harder to help her than Ellie who had adjusted quickly. This was the one job inside of Jackson’s walls she was relaxed in and she could feel him taking in the way she seemed at ease. The smile grew, warming. “Did Maggie have the pups?” a familiar voice rang out. The smile vanished and she stiffened.

The kennels had been converted from one of the old stables, the dogs held in old horse stalls on either side of the room. She couldn’t see the woman from her position on the floor, the walls of the stall blocking the view, but she knew it was Harper that had walked in. She came up to Joel’s side, almost touching shoulders, and looked down at her and Ellie with the pups and Maggie. “Oh, hi Red,” Harper’s smile became a bit tighter, head tilting, “I didn’t realize you were the one taking care of her.” She didn’t answer, averting her gaze to Maggie and adjusting the bowl for her to lick. Ellie answered instead, enthusiastically holding the puppy up in her hand, “She takes care of the dogs now! Joel named this one.” The man frowned almost bashfully, shrugging, “It’s Brownie.” Harper laughed and her dimples showed, head quirking as she looked at him, “That’s adorable.” She couldn’t get up and leave with the puppies all around her and both Joel and Harper leaning on the pen door. She was trapped, listening to them chat and laugh and Ellie showing off all the dogs while she sat there and tried to be invisible. She wanted to scream, rage, do something other than be meek and small. It was like every time the woman showed up, the version of her from two decades before took over her skin. The girl who had been shy and timid and didn’t know how to fight back. She wanted to scream at her to do something, say something, snarl at Harper that if she touched Joel one more fucking time she’d break her wrist and shove it down her throat. Instead, she sat there, listening to Ellie talk to her easily and Joel’s soft musings, the three of them getting along better than she ever did. Try. Try. Joel’s pleas haunted her constantly. She was trying. God, was she fucking trying so hard. But this wasn’t an instance like with Grant who had touched her and paid the price or his fucking brother who had sneered in her face and called her a bitch. She could argue those were justified. She could have done worse to them and didn’t. But the problem was Harper hadn’t done anything wrong to her. She hadn’t been mean, she hadn’t touched her, hadn’t done anything but make her feel small in comparison to her presence. There was no reason to fight her, to twist her pretty locks in her fingers and smash her face in until the strands turned red and she was nothing but a cavernous hole. She hated settlement life. She hated the fucking politics of it all, the dance to be respectable. Before, there was no time to worry about feelings or what her and Joel were, how he felt towards her, what her role was in their complicated mess of a relationship. It had moved beyond just sex, but she wasn’t sure what exactly. They’d gone through hell together. Maybe it was that she happened to be there, a place holder to fulfill all he needed while taking care of Ellie, but now he had options. There were other women that could fill that place. Could be a better guardian to Ellie, could take care of Joel, could watch both of their backs. One that didn’t cause problems or that he had to jump to defend or cause Ellie to yell at gawking strangers on her behalf. She tried not to focus on it. Swallowed it down deep in the pit of her stomach and refocused back on the things that mattered, which were caring for Joel and Ellie.

She tried not to think about it when later that evening when they’d gone to bed he pulled her into his body, hands roaming over her soft belly before gripping her tightly and pushing his hard length against her backside. She tried not to think when his fingers slipped inside of her, pumping in and out as his other hand squeezed her tit and pinched her nipped. Tried not to think if he was pushing into her from behind because he was imagining someone else’s face. The confusion turned to a twisted sort of pain and hurt and rage that needed an outlet. Defiance against her situation. She couldn’t do anything outside the walls of their house and her frustration was tearing her up. She was a fox with its foot caught in a trap, snapping and snarling at whatever she could but unable to do anything. She pulled away, feeling him slip out of her, and shoved him onto his back. Joel let out a small grunt at the hard push, but she didn’t care as she climbed on top of him, watching the small bit of confusion in his eyes. He knew something was off, but didn’t stop her. Let her take what she needed. She had to feel some ounce of control. So she rode him hard, nothing gentle to the way she rose and fell on him, sweat coating her skin and panting. There was no rhythm to it, only primal need and hurt carrying her movements. He sat up, brows furrowed and not keen on the distance of laying back, the angle changing enough she groaned. His hand caressed her neck softly in contrast to her harsh movements and the small tattooed stars on her collarbone he was always infatuated with. Almost as if he was trying to bring that version of her back to herself. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to give him an ounce of control over her, show him he could affect her at all. Because that meant someone else had the power to hurt her. Twisting her fingers in his curls tightly, she crushed her lips to his to avoid his searching eyes, swallowing every sound he made from the pleasure of their jutting hips. Her nails scraped along his scalp and into his shoulder hard enough she knew there would be red lines in the morning. He was letting himself be distracted, giving in, snapping his hips into hers equally rough with arms a tight band around her middle and holding her to his chest. They were wrapped around each other. For once there wasn’t the coaxing sound of his urgings as he drew her moans from her usually quiet throat, his praise at how good she was for him and how she felt. He was silent in the face of her aggression and she wasn’t sure how to feel, trying desperately to chase that control and release of her emotions. Her lips left his swollen and bruised and she pressed open mouth kisses onto the hard muscle of his shoulder as the pace became a mess. It wasn’t about her orgasm at that moment. She wanted to make him come, drag it from him like a trophy. Show him exactly what she could do to him. And when he did find his release, the hot spend of his arousal filling her, she bit down hard into the skin of his neck making him groan harder and dig his fingers into her skin. He tasted like sweat and salt and the earthy air from working outside. She didn’t come, didn’t mention it or even want it, only held him tightly as he came down from the high and slid his hand over her naked back. His grip was a little harder and she kept her face tucked into his neck when he tried to meet her eyes. They went to bed without any discussion, him holding her to his chest while her eyes stared into the darkness longer, listening to his breaths. The sound of knocking in the early morning woke them up. She heard Joel curse and throw on pants and a flannel, not bothering to button it up before lumbering down the stairs. Sleep beckoned to pull her back under, breasts pressed into the cool sheets and covers slid down from Joel leaving. It was usually Tommy, up early and taking care of things or letting him know of any problems. But she paused at the distinctly female voice she heard. A few minutes later Joel came back into the room and began to dress fully. She bit her lip, watching him from where her face was shoved into the pillow, brows furrowed. Boots, jacket, holster, gun. Everything signs he was leaving the walls. He looked at her after snapping in his gun and paused when he noticed she was awake and staring, two large unblinking eyes watching him from behind her arms. Joel hesitated in the darkness, contemplating, almost guilty. It was supposed to be his day off. Yet here he was, racing off. “Harper said one of the guys is sick and they’re short one so I’m gonna go help out with morning patrol,” he explained and nodded to himself, thumbs in his belt. A reasonable excuse. She wondered if he hadn’t noticed she was awake would he have left without telling her? But still, she said nothing and tucked her face back into the pillow, exhausted and a little sad and drowning in her own deteriorating self-esteem and doubt. A few moments later, she ignored the trail of his fingers on her naked back, soft and apologetic, before he left the room. Most of the time it was Tommy asking him to fill in. He didn’t say yes often and would tell him to shove it before going back to their bed. But Harper had asked this time and she felt her hackles raise at the fact she’d come to their house. To ask him specifically. And he’s been quick to say yes.

These feelings weren’t something she knew how to process or handle. Who the fuck handled being jealous of all things in the apocalypse? It was ridiculous, but settling in Jackson had allowed those things to creep in. She became aware of all she lacked and all she couldn’t handle and how other people didn’t have the same issues as her. She let her instincts guide her. The kennels became her home. She knew when Joel was home and avoided him, knowing that if she didn’t see him with Harper then it wouldn’t hurt as much versus death by a thousand cuts. She knew better than to try and sleep in the downstairs room, he’d only find her and yell at her to go upstairs, so she went to bed early or late. Asleep before he would show up or waiting until he was sleeping himself. Ellie followed her around when she wasn’t going to classes or helping out where she could. The girl never asked directly what was wrong, but she knew something was up. There was worry in her eyes and she would ask for help with inane tasks, trying to lure her home like luring a frightened dog home with a treat. She didn’t want to worry or hurt her, but the feelings were choking her and she didn’t know how to cope. Some nights, she missed her sister and having someone to walk her through it all. Annie had been so much smarter than her despite her young age. She understood the world better, was sassy like Ellie, and could read people so well. Unlike her who was gullible back then and immensely naive, unsure and anxious constantly. Book smart, but not much else. But Annie was gone along with that version of her.

Sometimes she’d feel Joel inching closer to her in the bed, hands ghosting over her shoulder or brushing through her hair when he thought she was asleep. His lips brushing her skin. Never pushing, far too patient.

When he left for morning patrol, she pretended to stay asleep. Harper would be in his group and when that happened, she liked to wait outside the house for him. The kennels welcomed her and she spent time with each dog, shoving her face into their necks and running her hands over their fluffy coats. She checked on the puppies and weighed them all, walking Maggie so she could get a break from the squirming things. She even spent time with the older dogs, taken off duty, making sure they got attention and massaged their joints and hugged them in her lap. Her brain made backup plans. If Joel asked her to leave the house, she could set up a cot in the kennels and stay there. There was even a small converted garage she could live in if she needed to. If they asked her to leave, she could go north and stay within distance enough she could visit Ellie often enough. Maybe set up a radio code similar to what Joel had told her about their friends Bill and Frank so she could set meet up spots. The latter was more likely. People only put up with her because of Joel and if he chose Harper then there wasn’t any reason to keep her in Jackson to them. Ellie would have guardians, she wasn’t necessary.

Hours passed while she cared for the dogs. She skipped breakfast and lunch, choosing instead to spend time training them or napping with the senior dogs in their pens.

It was mid-day when the doors opened and she heard footsteps enter. They weren’t familiar and her body stiffened instantly, shutting the pen door behind her as she exited Maggie’s enclosure. Sometimes it was one of the patrols, coming to switch out the dogs, but they didn’t always take them out unless someone was spotted and none had been taken that day. Her heart thudded even louder when she saw who it was, Harper’s smile a little too tight as she made eye contact. In all the times since the newcomer had joined Jackson, she’d never been alone with the woman. Now she didn’t like the lack of a buffer, the way her focus took in every inch of her. But in the same way, the cracks in her mask were showing. What had seemed gentle in the lines of her face were now condescending, mocking, ingenuine. Her lips were stretched thin in almost a sneer and those blue eyes were hard. Oh. She could see the game then, the cunning analyzing way this woman looked at her. She was right. Harper was a survivor, was so very smart, and was also willing to do whatever to get her way. You don’t survive this long by being sweet and kind and caring. You had to be ugly sometimes, but Harper had gotten good at hiding that ugliness from the right people. There was no reason to hide it from her though.

The woman stepped further in and walked towards her languidly, trailing her hands along the stable doors. Her exit was cut off, having to move around the woman to leave, and she began to see the situation for what it was. A standoff. A fight. Her teeth were grinding, nails sinking into her palm if only to inflict some kind of violence to keep herself in check.

Harper smiled, faux kindness painted on her lips, “They told me about you, warned me to be careful around you, and all the problems you’ve been having. They told me how you’re on your last leg here.” She paused and the smile widened, “You should just go and save everyone the trouble. Ellie’s doing great here and from what Joel has told me, he’s enjoying having his brother back and this new settlement life. If you really care about them, you’d realize you’re holding them back.��

Her blood was boiling, rage roaring through her head at Harper’s gall to mention her people, and she growled, “And you’re so worried about them, right? Concerned citizen?”

“Joel has been through a lot,” Harper spat out and she wanted to snap her teeth as if she didn’t fucking know, “He shouldn’t have to worry about some woman messing things up and getting them kicked out.” Some woman, as if that was all she was. The words were spit out of her mouth like they were covered in grime and blood. She didn’t even bother to hide what she meant. The words were all there, the implication that the man had opened up to her, told her about his life and what they’d been through, and his feelings regarding this new chapter. Things he hadn’t told her yet, too busy trying to douse fires and help her get settled.

Cleaning up her messes.

With a clenched jaw, holding in the hurt and the anger to keep from showing the damage, she bent down and grabbed her bag to try and leave. There was no winning in this sense because she was right and she’d never been good with words. Better to get out of there, go somewhere else before the damage took hold and would start to fester, “Your concern is noted.” Moving to go around her and leave, Harper stepped in her path, shoulders straight and spine rigid with her chest puffed out, “It’s not just for them. This is a civilized place.” And you’re not that went unsaid, “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go? They’ll be fine and happy. No one has to worry if you’re gonna freak out and kill someone and you can finally roam the forests and be back home.”

She was so close she could smell the trees and wind on her, the slight hint of sweat from the horse. Too close. Close enough she could wrap her teeth into her flesh and bite and rip. Too tempting.

“Or you can get the fuck out of my face?” she hissed with her teeth bared. It was all rising, the urge to hurt her. She’d hurt so many people for less and it would feel so good to break her knuckles open on her mouth, to hear the cartilage in her nose crack. But her smile turned smug and she only pressed in, almost chest to chest, and using her few inches of height to look down at her, “Or what? What can you do? They’ll kick you out and do you really think Joel would be on your side if you hurt me?” That made her hesitate. Because she wasn’t sure. With the other women, the men and their obvious disdain for her, yes he would defend her. But this new person who was like a merging of all he liked? Tough but good with people and pretty and able to hold her own, someone he trusted at his back. Would he defend her? Harper sensed that hesitation and, before she could blink, took advantage and shoved her back. She stumbled, losing ground, so aware she was trapped. The fox with its leg in a noose, all over again. Fighting would give her exactly what she wanted. Not fighting back made her weak, someone to trample on. Someone too weak to live.

“Come on. Settlement life make you lose your bite or are the rumors hot air?” Harper hissed and shoved her again. Her instincts were screaming to fight, to shove her back, grab her knife, or use her fists. Beat her teeth in and make her swallow each one to the point she could only eat soup until she choked on it. But that hanging threat was there like a guillotine, Tommy’s voice saying Maria was considering kicking her out.

Joel asking her to try.

So she did nothing. She clenched her fists and bit her tongue until blood coated it. And when Harper threw a punch, snapping her head to the side, she still did nothing.

Shame and anger and resentment bloomed in her chest and the small taste of blood grew until she could feel a steady trickle down her throat as her nose took the brunt of the damage. She’d killed so many people for simply touching something of hers, looking at her, had done awful things to protect herself and her two people, and yet she would take this if it meant keeping them safe and happy. But it felt so much like losing to just let it happen.

“Can’t do anything, can you?” Harper chuckled, “They don’t need you, ya know that? You’re baggage. Joel and Ellie’s lives would be so much easier without you dragging them down-” “The fuck you just say to her?” The moment the deep voice snarled through the kennel, she saw Harper freeze. It came from the open doorway and she watched as the sneer on her face morphed into surprise and then tried to turn soft, apologetic. Fake. They both turned and watched as Joel entered the kennel, lips twisted into a hard frown and brow shading his eyes. He was looking at the woman differently now. Like an outsider or a threat. She could see the subtle fear and discomfort swim to the surface under that gaze. The game was up. Mask invisible. “Joel-” “Not another word. You shut your fucking mouth,” he snarled and Harper shrunk in response. She watched it all with a disconnect, feeling the blood slide down her lips and into her mouth. There was no relief at his appearance. Shame was still a heavy blanket on her shoulders at him finding her cowed.

With a gulp, Harper’s gaze swung between the two and she slid away, scurrying around him and towards the exit. But not before he called out, “If you say a goddamn word to her ever again, I’ll let her finish what you started and swear before the whole town that you deserved every bit of what she does to you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get punished for a single fucking thing.” The threat was there but not from him. No, even catching them with her own blood smeared across her face, he knew she could do the damage herself unrestrained and untethered. That this moment was a special circumstance because what she could do was far worse than what he would. Harper ran and didn’t look back. Silence took over between them, tension thick enough the dogs whined and pawed at their pen doors. She stood stiff and unmoving, eyes not meeting his but looking off into the darkness. He was the first to break the silence. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Joel asked, a growl still in his voice but not towards her. She smiled humorlessly, hands on her hips and staring down at the door floor. Her blood was speckled on the ground, “Because I’m trying.”

Joel scoffed and stepped more into the room, grabbing her chin until she looked up at him. From his back pocket, he pulled out a rag and gently began to wipe the blood from her face, “Trying to do what? Be a punching bag?” Blood was in her throat when she swallowed, heart beating a little louder at his touch, but she continued to avoid his gaze, “Integrate.” He paused at the word, his thumb rubbing the edge of her jaw compulsively. Then his grip tightened and he turned her forcefully to meet his gaze. Joel’s eyes were hard and lips pressed thin with anger but also regret and frustration, “I don’t give a shit if we’re integrating or whatever. Someone gives you shit, lays a hand on you, fuck even makes you feel like you don’t belong with us then you knock their fucking teeth in.” She swallowed as he all but snarled the words at her, his fingers so tight on her skin, but he continued, “Settling down here doesn’t mean I want you to become a doormat and I’ll argue with Maria until I’m fucking blue over that. They start shit? Then you sure as fuck finish it.” Her teeth clenched and she felt the sharp coppery tang of the blood still in her mouth, “They’ll kick me out-” “No, they won’t,” he hissed angrily, “I fucking mean it, Red. I don’t want you softening for our sake if it means people try to make you feel like shit. Your place is here with us. No one is going to get between us, I can assure you that.” “She wasn’t wrong,” she replied softly as if saying it out loud was exposing an open nerve, exposing her insecurity to him, “I’m baggage. She could take care of herself and you and Ellie. She can cook and watch your back and gets along with people. I can’t do that-” “Stop,” he ground out, “I’m not that easy. Jesus, I’m not going to chase after the first woman that can hold a gun and make me a fucking pie.” Despite his hard words, he still gently wiped her face clean, taking such care in checking her over and making sure she was okay. It was almost too much, “Give yourself some credit, Starshine-” “You spent a lot of time with her,” the words were like ripping open her skin, bitter and stupid and raw as they spilled out of the wound, “She’s…from Austin and…you laughed and smiled with her. You just seemed happier around her.” Joel paused and pulled back a little to fully take in her expression and what was at play. She could see the moment he saw her, really saw her no matter how hard she was trying to hide her feelings. The insecurity. The jealousy. Everything she had struggled with. He chewed his lip and nodded, brow furrowing a bit harder, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what she wanted or how she was making you feel. But you’re fucking stupid if you think I wouldn’t turn her ass down in a second.” The words weren’t gentle or soft, but they were said as a fact. The simplest fact that Joel would never choose Harper. That he wasn’t actively pursuing that. And it worked. She felt the tightness in her shoulders ease a bit as he pulled her forward into his embrace, pressing a kiss against her forehead. Her fingers dug into his back, gripping the worn denim fabric of his shirt tightly and she couldn’t help but sigh into his embrace. Home. It felt like home and comfort and everything she had felt she was missing. Breathing him in, she mumbled against his chest, “She’s probably going to complain next time you have patrol with her.” “She’s not going to be on patrol with me,” he murmured into her ear, pulling back to sweep her messy hair behind her ears, “I’m gonna make sure she works exactly where she belongs. On shit duty.” “You don’t have to. You don’t have to come to my rescue,” she argued albeit weakly. “Oh I’m not,” Joel chuckled, lips turning up into a smirk, “This is all for me. No one insults what’s mine.” She looked at him, brow furrowed at the words, mind trying to process them. But she didn’t get very far before his lips were on hers, kissing her hard and tugging her back flush against his body so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. Her nails dug into his skin, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, while his hands kneaded the soft curves of her ass, pressing the hard front of his jeans into her stomach. He groaned into her mouth and pulled away enough to speak against her lips, grip on her still tight, “Let’s get back home so I can fuck you so hard you’ll stop doubting yourself.” She chuckled, wanting to argue that that was a hard promise to keep, but he was already dragging her out of the kennels and into the darkening streets as the sun began to lower. True to his word, Harper found herself with a brand new post going forward. Tommy didn’t mention the reason why to her, didn’t pull her aside and question her over what happened. Ellie didn’t even mention her bruised nose. Whatever Joel had told them was enough. The woman went out of her way to avoid going anywhere near any of them going forward, even straight turning in the opposite direction when she saw them and eventually coming off patrol duty all together. She tried not to feel satisfied at that. Tried not to feel more at ease or proud of herself when Maria told her she was doing a damn good job with the kennels and asked if she wanted to take on more duties, almost cementing that she wasn’t going to be asked to leave. Joel and Ellie did that for her, celebrating every small win and reminding her exactly where she belonged. With them. _________________________________________ Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111 @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8

#joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x Feral Reader #Joel Miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #tlou #the last of us #feral reader #raicodoll writes #series: feral

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hwaightme · 7 months

Text

ateez as signs of love (relationship hcs)

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

8️⃣ pairing: bf!ateez x gn!reader 8️⃣ genre: headcanons, fluff, established long-term relationships 8️⃣ summary: the lessons, the comfort that love teaches and gives you, in a series of 8 headcanons with each of these beautiful souls 8️⃣ wordcount: 2.4k total 8️⃣ warnings/tags: not edited, drabble-style hcs, enamoured simping activated, soft and focused on subtle signs of love, energies that people give 8️⃣ taglist: at the bottom of the hcs 8️⃣ a/n: this anniversary holds a lot of significance to me, and i want to celebrate ateez together. i am forever grateful that they are in my life, and are a source of joy and hope. happy ateez day everyone. much love~

hongjoong

matching outfits, both in subtle and in louder ways - sharing accessories like earrings and rings, or colour coordinating for events you are attending together - a quiet signal that even if you are not loud about it, you two belong together and are on the same wavelength

lyrics dedicated to you and to what you have been through as a couple - how you have evolved and what you have seen and experienced; evolution through musical genre and through musical complexity - nods to travels, movies, conversations…

adoring glances across the room, wide smiles and hearty laughter at the silliest jokes simply because they are inside jokes in the language you two invented

challenging one another, proposing new viewpoints and debating on creative projects and ways forward in a healthy manner, while being each other’s number one fans and supporters; you can count on one another’s honest opinion, open arms and mind

late night calls, or calls that run through the entire night where you two either work remotely, or first connect under the pretense of sharing something but end up updating, chatting away, calming your hearts

becoming the second voice of reason, counting on the other to support and be the clarity when one is feeling distressed or unable to make a quick call of judgement or decision

encouraging freedom - two people with their own dreams and goals, respectful of space and time and working to maintain this even in a relationship; a powerful dynamic where the sky's the limit, and even then, you find a way to go above and beyond

having clear priorities and plans that span years, facing the future side by side and mapping it out against both individual and couple variables

seonghwa

feeling comfortable and safe to discuss feelings, fears, hopes, dreams, curled up on the couch together, drama left frozen on the television screen; bodies intertwined, hearts beating steadily, calmly, in a world built for two; deep conversations turning into pivotal moments, not being afraid to reveal and expose yourself to the other, being accepted and facing inner turmoil no longer alone

exploring and introducing each other to your interests and passions, learning and growing together, and in turn forming an even stronger connection through shared references, media, jokes; knowing each other's preferences and orders by heart, wordlessly sharing any meal with smiles on your faces and knowing what to send to one another when physically apart

order in a comfortable silence when doing chores or walking side by side in places you both love and cherish, wonderful chaos when both of you let go and play like kids again; reconnecting with all versions of yourselves and finding each one precious

encouraging each other to accept yourselves but also to expand horizons and to love both the world and the small things - operating by the “no harm in trying” principle

seeing each person as a universe, and other people, things, interests and events in their life as stars that form beautiful constellations - linking what is previously seen as disparate and making a new direction to develop into

making playlists for different moods, activities to suit the season, planning evenings days and mornings and then living through them with a serene enjoyment; reevaluating and rebuilding habits, finding fun in frustrations

returning home be it to an actual house or through the phone, talking about everything and nothing, and encouraging one another to try your best while maintaining a healthy balance

a safe space, because you are each other's home and no matter what you will be there to listen, to speak, to write the next lines in the poem of life together

yunho

reading each other's emotions and wordlessly showing support, be it through a touch of the hand or through the offering of a favourite snack or a kind word

playful competition, racing one another to the front door of your home, laughter ringing in the air; seeing the brighter side of the world together, and reminding one another that it exists when the going gets tough

spontaneous getaway to a beloved holiday destination, healing and relaxing together away from commotion and chaos - finding peace in quiet conversation and taking flights or drives as an opportunity to reflect, to free oneself and to simply focus on the journey itself

walking in nature, holding hands and listening to birdsong and shrill cries of cicadas - valuing the process of grounding oneself and listening to inner thoughts, beliefs and feelings

road trips and long walks, exploring new sights and making every place a shared new memory and a precious moment; moving beyond a set “base” when it comes to home, and treating the world like your home to find the place that you both truly belong to

remembering even the smallest events and details from years ago and holding them as invaluable, celebrating anniversaries by revisiting representations of said memories

quoting your favourite lines from films or video games, re-enacting scenes together and crafting impromptu performances in the living room before collapsing in adorable giggles

finding the world in one another’s eyes, catching each other off guard in the best way with sweet comments and with absent-minded touches of the hand, reassurance that even when your mind is elsewhere, you have an anchor, you have a person who you are racing… not against, but with

yeosang

perseverance - in times where you face trouble, a hurdle, a tumble downwards, you reach out to help the other to stand up again, and take pride in having gone through so much and now having that special someone with whom nothing is as scary

surrounding yourselves with kindness and positive energy - having a home that is safe, secure and reflects both of you perfectly; gradually and subtly learning about each other’s hidden parts, adoring them all the same

learning to accept help, and leaning on one another when difficulties arise; openly communicating and being able to voice concerns and questions - feeling comfortable to do so

playful banter and witticisms, knowing when to humble one another but also when to lift one another up; being able to non-verbally communicate when in larger groups

appreciating one another’s efforts and valuing improvements, hard work, acts of service that have been done discreetly

walking huddled under a large umbrella to your favourite cafe, ordering ice cream and drifting to the seats that have become yours and his; speaking quietly, recollecting the happenings of the day, calmly making puzzle pieces connect into a bigger picture

finding comfort in routine; one that starts as a schedule and slowly becomes automatic; you two moving in one space like in a fluid dance, clockwork from one task to another

playing not to win but for the sake of spending time together - becoming an unbeatable duo in matches and subconsciously knowing each other’s style and approach when it comes to both communication and video games

san

reading excerpts from books and poetry aloud to one another in the late evening, bundled up together in a warm throw blanket

learning your favourite songs, humming or singing them to you as you slow dance in the kitchen - monologues and confessions said through music and little gestures of affection, though in a private space, the words spill and you are wrapped in reassurance

hand on the small of your back, a subtle reminder of how even in the busiest spaces, in places where you feel like you are fading away, there is always someone beside you, ready to support you and someone who cares

recounting stories from childhood, talking about home together and building a new one, first through conversation, then in reality; seeing the picture of you and him as clear as day

headpats, nuzzling, ruffling of the hair, sleepy embraces in the early morning that transition into a hand on the thigh, a soft brush of the upper arm, a move of a strand of hair from your face, a stolen kiss, or simply sitting so close that you almost become one

learning to set up healthy boundaries, barriers and principles, and respecting each other’s - having unspoken unbreakable rules that lead to healthy communication and mutual support, and supporting one another in finding limits externally and enforcing them for the wellbeing of oneself

living passionately, and taking each day into the heart to experience it fully; taking the time to evaluate all of its elements and taking what serves you best while still appreciating things that might not be as valuable

remembering your roots and loving your origins, being proud of your individuality and of what an who you represent; finding or strengthening the connections with who you are and who you want to be, separately and together

mingi

waiting to watch a movie or a show together - watching it twice because you were analysing every moment and chatted away, intrigued by one another’s minds

dispelling each other’s concerns and worries when it comes to perception, communication and achievement - being able to whittle down to exact doubts and unravelling them until a smile forms on your beloved’s face

checking in on each other’s emotional capacity and learning to ask for signs when the other might overflow - encouraging minimising the bottling up of emotions and dedicating time to talk things through

spending time getting lost in history and in innovation, expanding intellectual horizons by visiting events, exhibitions, talks to see all that the creatives and innovators of the world are conjuring - pondering all you have witnessed together

giving each other courage, hyping each other up and loving every colour - inventing cheers and chants, secret handshakes, signals, making up songs about random things on the spot and their recital becoming a tradition

admiring differences, and studying them with a beautiful curiosity; not fearing to ask the ‘why’, the ‘how’ continuously because there is no limit to wonder

comfort in introspection and self-discovery; encouraging exploration of the self and of own interests, but always reconnecting, forming a network of possibility between thought, learnings, ideas

going with the flow, and bringing the flow to each other - sometimes, transition into a new landscape or environment is easy, other times, you need a helping hand; both of you are ready to lead the other into a new world and will wait for as long as necessary

wooyoung

family, the feeling of belonging - “you are my person and I will fight for you”; strong circle of trusted people, a network that you can rely on and of course, the strong bond between you

even when alone, you are not lonely; the feeling that even when you have to be apart for some time, you are still there with and for one another, one call away; even though you would be playful, you are always emotionally available, and past the teasing is boundless love

adventures to places far away, still home because it is the two of you travelling; exploring with an open mind and daring one another to step outside of comfort zones, to take the leap, to bloom

candlelit dinners after a cooking turned jam session - dancing with spatulas in hand, yelling out the lyrics to any and all songs, learning them on the fly; long stares and cheeky jokes exchanged across the table, dressing up for no reason except to impress each other

love that expands past the two of you - your friend groups, your families, pets… the social landscape is boundless and you trust each other to navigate it smoothly - permanent plus one, double trouble, partners in crime, the best team

gentle scolding to take care of yourselves, prioritising each other’s health and wellbeing, keeping each other out of harm’s way while retaining a fiery spirit

healing from past insecurities through words and actions - nurturing beauty that is both internal and external, and giving each other hope in every tomorrow through warm smiles and even warmer hugs

not being afraid to stand up for one another, for what you believe in, for the greater good - lover and fighter do go hand in hand after all, and lead to a respectful relationship where adventure and a blazing passion are still very much alive

jongho

evenings spent at a noraebang you now frequent, singing songs that have grown to describe your relationship, the months, years you have known one another; serenades you dedicate, classics you belt in a duet

retaining the air of pleasant mystery until both of you break into a grin and melt into a soft laughter; knowing glint in the eyes, you do not need to say much, for your actions speak volumes

being considerate, making space and in this way, turning home into an ideal, stable equilibrium where company feels natural, essential, even if all you do during the day is sit in different rooms - there is bliss in knowing that in that other room is the one you love and the one who loves you

walks in the park, stopping to sit on a bench in a particularly scenic spot overlooking a pond, under the trees - reminding each other to pause and to look around you, enjoying the moment and appreciating how much has changed, and for the better

beauty and love in order - from how you like your coffee, to what you prefer to wear and how, to how you carry yourself and to what side of your loved one you prefer to walk, these small points all make you who you are and are details that make your story

praising and joining in a little bit of mischief - you know you have to act a certain way, but sometimes, nothing feels better than letting go and playing a cute prank or a game

noticing the tiniest changes in one another, and either raising them as a question, or complimenting them depending on what it is - well-attuned, responsive, kind, attentive

sometimes, you might support different teams, or do so simply for harmless fun, but at the end of the day you find the same goals to score, the same game to place, and will always back each other up and assist towards great successes

8️⃣ taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @archivesummer @little-angel-k @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

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just-wrting · 7 months

Text

Secret Admirer

Title: Secret Admirer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You've been trying to figure out who keeps leaving you little notes and gifts. Despite everyone else knowing, you keep denying the obvious answer.

Word Count: 1721

Master List

A/N: This will probably be the only thing I write for Reid. I'm not super into him but when the List Randomizer spat out secret admirer I weirdly thought of him. I plan on trying to write a bunch of different characters from a bunch of different fandoms. Just whoever pops into my head I guess. Two will probably be posted Friday.

You aren’t sure when you noticed it. Maybe it was the fact that your desk was always clean. Maybe it was the little extra things that started to appear. Slowly but surely, you realized you had someone who was leaving you gifts and notes. You had a secret admirer.

Despite your efforts, no one on the team would say anything. For several weeks, you pressed the issue with the other BAU members, yet no one cracked. In fact, you were teased about being unable to figure it out. How could a member of the BAU not figure out their mystery admirer?

“Come on Garcia! I know you know. You have to tell me,” you plead with the tech genius. “You’ve literally been avoiding me. I know you know.”

She lets out a squeak before running to the safety of her lair. Morgan is giving you a smirk and shaking his head. Despite your scowl, he chooses to tease you.

“Come on, (L/N), can’t you figure it out? Who could be this mystery man leaving you gifts and fancy letters?” He laughs as he pokes the latest gift, a small stuffed version of your favorite animal.

“Hey, leave my new son out of this. What did he ever do to you?” you grumble, pulling it closer to you. “I didn’t even realize someone remembered such a little detail.”

“Maybe that means it’s been a long time crush.”

At that moment, Reid sets his bag down and takes a seat at his desk. You think you see Morgan’s grin get wider, but it’s hard to tell given how wide his smile usually is. It’s a picture perfect smile.

“That’s a relatively cute stuffed animal. I’ve actually been reading up on that one recently if you’d like to know more,” he offers. “Only if you’re interested of course.”

Reid gives you his charming boyish smile. It goes well with demeanor and you can’t help but find it cute.

“As long as you’re willing to leave out the creepy facts. I don’t even remember telling anyone my favorite animal,” you say with a smile. “Who would remember such a little detail?”

Morgan chimes back in, “Maybe someone with a perfect memory. Like what the kid has.”

You sigh. “Reid seems to like highly intelligent women with PhDs. I may be smart, but I’m not smart enough.”

Before anyone can protest, Hotch calls you all to the conference room for a case. While you’re sure Reid is nice enough to help whoever has a crush on you, you doubt you’d be his type. Maybe Reid is the perfect person to question about the mystery man.

—-

“Reid, (L/N), you two stay here and look through the papers,” Hotch orders before leaving the precinct.

You frown. What’s the point of having you here? Reid can read faster than you can. It’s almost like you’re just here for moral support in case he gets tired.

“Well now I feel useless,” you groan. “What am I even supposed to do?”

Reid doesn’t look up as he speaks. “Maybe today you’re our mascot. After all, mascots are supposed to be cute.”

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Not all mascots are cute. Recognizable is definitely more important than cute. Besides, am I really that cute?

“I meant to say that compared to Morgan, you’re cute.” Reid buries his head further into the papers.

You ponder for a moment. “Well, you’ve got some charm. Morgan has the charm of he’s good with women so that’s why he gets hit on. Hotch is mature and a leader so that’s why women are into him. You’re cute though. You’ve got this soft sort of shyness that makes you adorable.”

You don’t catch Reid’s reply. His face is completely hidden behind various files. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, given that he’s always been a bit bad with taking compliments. That doesn’t stop you from thinking that it’s adorable.

“Speaking of your charms. I like the fact that you’ve got a good memory. You wouldn’t happen to know who’s got a crush on me, would you?”

He doesn’t look up. “I can pass along a message if you’d like.”

“Well then, I suppose you should tell this guy to ask me out. I can say for certain that if he’s this considerate, that he’s already got my interest.”

“I’ll do that,” he mumbles before handing you a file. “Take a look at this. I think I’ve found what we’ve been missing.”

—-

You peer into the lecture hall. It took some convincing, but you have successfully dragged J.J. to one of Lewis’ classes. You gesture vaguely into the room.

“See! That’s what normal Reid is. Dorky jokes, random facts, and the rambling on for ages is what makes him Reid. That’s not what he’s like around me anymore,” you hiss.

She makes a face and shakes her head. “So you have a different Reid? I don’t think he’s been replaced (L/N). Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

You scoff. “No I’m not. Reid just seems so nervous around me. Did I do something? He barely looks at me anymore.”

With a shrug, she leads you away. “Have you tried asking him?”

You toss your empty coffee cup in a trash can. Part of you wants to throw up your hands and be done. Why is everyone treating this like it’s normal? No one is giving you any answers.

“Of course I have J.J. It would be weirder if I hadn’t. He clearly knows something about this secret admirer of mine, but won’t tell.”

J.J. pats your arm comfortingly. “Maybe it’s because he’s your secret admirer. Perhaps you need to ask him out.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll ask him out once I have the evidence that he’s the person leaving me these gifts.”

J.J. raises her eyebrows as she drinks from her coffee. Her face says she has other thoughts, but she won’t press the matter further. Your gut tells you to trust her, but you’d rather not make a fool of yourself. Sure, she knows Reid better than you do, but Reid can be difficult to read.

—-

After reading the latest note, you search your desk for your stapler. You’ve been stapling the date and time to each note before tucking it in your desk. However, it’s missing.

You let out a groan. This isn’t the first time it’s been in the wrong spot, and you’re sick of it. You opt to beg Garcia to look at the camera footage to see who’s been using it.

“Hey Garcia? Can you please pull up the footage of my desk this morning? Someone’s been using my stapler, and today they stole it,” you grumble with a scowl. “Whoever took it is going to get some very strong words.”

As she speeds through the footage, you watch the people who got there before you. At first, you see Reid pause at your desk and fiddle with something. You note that he’s the only person in the office at the time, but after he pulls away, you see your stapler still on the desk.

The next person to stop at your desk is Morgan. He pulls your stapler off your desk and staples his paperwork together as he heads to Hotch’s office. He never sets it back on your desk.

“Garcia? Can you please get my stapler from that idiot?”

She laughs. “Has he been using your stapler this whole time? He said there wasn’t any more in the supply room.”

You shake your head. “You like him so much, you can retrieve my stolen goods from him.”

Garcia nods. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

You leave her to her planning. You don’t comment on the fact that Reid had been at your desk. If you ask her about it, she’ll just leave you alone to go get your stapler. This is enough evidence for you though. It’s time to confront Reid.

Thankfully, he’s made his way to the conference room to look for something. You sneak in behind him and stand between him and the door.

“So, what did you need from my desk this morning?”

You watch him jump and spin around. He looks shocked, but quickly covers it up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, (L/N).”

You frown. “I found out my stapler was missing. Garcia showed me the footage and before it went missing, you were at my desk. What did you do?”

Reid opens and closes his mouth a few times. He doesn’t look at you. His hands keep fiddling with whatever he’s holding.

“Forget about it, I’m sure there was just some trash leftover that you cleaned up.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”

You give him a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else. The others seem to think I’m just talking myself out of it, but I think I can't put it off any longer.”

You make your way towards him, your smile still plastered on your face. You can tell he’s even more nervous now.

“Reid, are you my secret admirer?”

This time, Reid looks you in the eyes. You hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“What if I am?”

You’re a bit taken aback. Despite the determination you had walking into this, you aren’t sure what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your voice is a whisper now. It feels like some sort of dream. It’s almost like if you talk too loud, this whole thing will shatter and you’ll be left in pieces.

“I didn’t think you’d like me back. Your type just didn’t seem to include me.”

Reid hesitantly pushes a strand of hair out of your face.

“You’re more my type than you realize.”

“Then do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Now you’re the one who's acting nervous. Your palms are sweaty. It’s more difficult to breathe. You can’t help but bite your lip.

“I’d like that. If you’re willing to get dinner with me.”

Reid leans down, and gives you a quick kiss. It barely lasts a second, but you can feel your skin heat up. When he pulls away, he stays close.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

#reader insert #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic

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fuctacles · 27 days

Text

Trans is fine, but you better not be a Swiftie!

For @subeddieweek Day 5 | T | 1502 | cw: hinted transphobia | transfem Steve, PDA, rockstar Eddie, jealousy, possesive Stevie, bitchy Stevie | Ao3

It took the whole of Corroded Coffin to convince her to go to the concert. It may make her sound like an unsupportive girlfriend, but she hasn't been to any of their gigs in months. Eddie never complained about it, aware that metal concerts aren't for everyone, even if they do like the music. She's also hit a weird stage in her transition when she didn't feel like going to public events.

But here she was, at their first solo concert, no festival to crutch on. In the newest band t-shirt, one she saw through every stage of designing, her tits barely making a dent (Eddie had a different opinion on that topic), while two skanks next to her had her cleavages on full display in their tiny cut-up t-shirts.

They were in the VIP lounge, waiting for the band to emerge from backstage. Stevie could have been there with them, but the rush and heat behind a concert like this gave her a worse headache than the actual music. So instead, she had to sit there with two textbook examples of a groupie. And one of them looked meaner than Carol, back from high school, when she didn't get her chocolate pudding.

"You sure you're in the right place?" one of them finally speaks up.

Stevie looks pointedly at her band t-shirt.

"Is this not a Taylor Swift concert?" she asks, eyes going wide. The second girl presses her lips, holding back a laugh. The first one narrows her eyes, though.

"Don't sass me, girlie, you know what I mean," she hisses. "Wearing plain jeans and a hoodie to meet Eddie Munson? That's so disrespectful."

Stevie wouldn't call her jeans plain. They were expensive mom-cut and made her ass look good. The girl didn't need to know she treated them like a premium version of sweatpants. And the hoodie was Eddie's. He gave it to her before going on stage tonight.

She shrugs off her words.

"I don't think he'll mind."

The girl scoffs.

"Oh, he's too nice to say anything, but he'll know you're a poser. Who goes to a metal concert dressed like that? He'd never go for you."

Stevie raises her eyebrows, taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"Excuse you," the girl barks back, nonsensically. Her friend touches her arm as if giving her a sign to back dial it down, but she either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore her. "You don't look like you're here for the music, hell, you probably can't name a single song!"

(Stevie named some of them herself.)

"So you must be here for Eddie," she concludes with a sneer.

"Well, I am here for him," Stevie deadpans truthfully. This seems to further fuel her VIP lounge companion.

"Keep dreaming. He's into real metalheads," she says haughtily, popping the collar of her battle vest. It's so cartoonish it takes everything from Stevie not to burst out laughing. "What do you even listen to? Country?"

"Taylor Swift, I already told you."

"See, Eddie hates normies like you. Swifties are so fucking mainstream, you'll just embarrass yourself. Maybe you should go," she suggests with a pointed look.

Stevie gives her a pitying smile back. Clearly, she wasn't as big of a fan as she claimed to be if she hadn't seen the photos of Eddie in official Taylor Swift merch that were trending just a couple of months ago.

"Eddie's looking for someone real, not a fake bitch like you."

She was going to play nice, but that was taking it too far. She felt her hackles rise and her face turned into a frown.

But before she could say anything, the second girl slapped her friend on the chest.

"What the fuck, dude?! You can't just say shit like that!"

"Like what?!" She slaps her back. "Do you think she actually cares about their music? She screams fake pop shit!" She throws her hand back, motioning at Stevie.

Who was too taken aback to react at this point.

"Fuck, I thought you were being transphobic." The girl lets out a nervous laugh. "Sorry."

"What?" The first girl takes a glance back at Stevie like she hasn't noticed before. It was kind of flattering, considering she wasn't that far in her transition, but she wouldn't take an idiot's oversight as a compliment. "I don't care about that! Mainstream music is a bigger sin than being transgender!"

"I'll drink to that."

The band chose this moment to appear at the steps to the lounge, Eddie raising the water bottle in his hand in a mock cheer.

"Eddie!" The two girls stand up in unison, and it takes all of Stephanie's willpower not to roll her eyes. Instead, she gives a wry smile to Jeff, who seems to be in a similar state of mind.

"We're here too, you know," he murmurs under his breath.

Gareth nudges his arm.

"Well, I'm glad they're not here for me," he whispers back.

Stevie snorts after hearing that, but the girls are none the wiser, too preoccupied with their beloved frontman.

"Hello ladies, hope you didn't wait too long," he greets them, accepting their enthusiastic hugs and letting them kiss his cheek.

Stevie keeps her face carefully neutral.

"It's okay, we know you're exhausted after the concert." The first girl smiles sweetly at him, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for Stevie not to gag at the shift in attitude. "I'd wait the whole night to meet you." She might need a bucket right now.

Eddie laughs nervously, taking a step back to put some distance between them.

"Ashley and Xena, right?" he asks.

"I'm Xena!" The girl exclaims, clearly proud of her unusual name. Stevie does roll her eyes this time.

Gareth appears in front of her, snickering, and she punches him softly in the thigh before raising the same fist to fist bump him. He offers her the tray of cookies he picked up from the table.

"Hi. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." She shrugs and picks up one of the cookies. "Thanks."

He nods and retreats to one of the couches. There are three of them, set up in a triangle around a table with snacks and drinks. Which is very convenient, making Stevie think Chrissy has planned it out.

"You already know them, but it's rude not to introduce my friend." Eddie grins, making room for the rest of the band to properly greet the fans. "This is Jeff, Gareth, and Grizzly the Teddy-bear. He gives the best hugs," he says with a grin. Ted rolls his eyes.

"Just Ted is fine. But I do give the best hugs." He grins.

Eddie leaves them to it and finally goes to sit next to his girlfriend, throwing his arms over the back of the sofa and sinking into the cushions.

"I'm so tired," he groans.

"Too tired to greet me properly?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. She can feel the eyes of the other girls on them.

"Never." Eddie raises his head immediately. "Sorry, baby." He leans in to kiss her on the cheek, but she moves her head away.

"I said properly," she repeats, but her tone shifts into her more authoritative one. He hesitates for a millisecond, but his eyes don't even shift away to look at their surroundings. Stevie enjoys the power trip, seeing him uncaring of who's looking and where they are.

"Of course, sorry," he amends, straightening up to go in for a proper kiss.

He lets out a surprised whimper when she dominates it immediately, grasping his chin and claiming his mouth like she's been starving for it throughout the whole concert. Eddie goes limp in her grasp, but she wants to make it clear who he belongs to. She grabs his knee possessively, angling him even more towards her, and her other hand moves from his chin to his hair. His locks are damp with sweat after the concert, but she doesn't mind, because it's exactly how she likes him. Dirty, unkempt, falling apart under her hands.

She tugs at his hair, messing further the haphazard bun he's tied it into. He sighs, melting further into her, and it makes it easier to grasp his thighs and pull him into her lap. They finally part with a wet smack, and she can look into her boyfriend's glossy eyes.

"There's my good boy," she praises. "Hi."

"Hi," he croaks back with a dazed smile.

"Booo, get a room!" one of their friends speaks up.

Eddie groans and hides in the crook of her neck, too weak from the kiss to face the teasing yet. So Stevie takes over the social interaction for him, lacing her hands together at the small of his back while he collects himself. She sticks out her tongue to Gareth.

"Shut up, we'll behave now," she says, before turning to the two girls, her jaws shattered on the floor and there to stay for her to stomp on. She smiles charmingly at them. "You guys were saying?"

Shameless plug: @stevieweek

#cj x subeddieweek #subeddieweek #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #steddie #stevierything #transfem stevie harrington #transfem stevie #stevie harrington #transfem steve harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #trans steve harrington

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acciocriativity · 5 months

Text

-> When they reject you…

… but it wasn't a confession (MATZ Version)

Genre: angst (I'm sorry)

Warnings/tags: angst; unrequited love (?); Seonghwa being a little asshole; heartbreak; just betrayal guys

WC: 1,4 k

N/A: Yes, this is inspired by that Colin scene in Bridgerton, to be honest I still not forgave him for that.

Please reblog my work if you enjoyed it, it helps to reach other people <3

Ateez Masterlist

Park Seonghwa (박성화)

You had no reason to be up right now. Actually if anything, you should’ve been sleeping for hours now to rest for the early morning ahead of you, yet somehow you were still waiting to make sure he was safe and sound.

You heard them from the hallway, a combination of the dead silence in the building and their loud voices. You heard only sounds that didn’t make any sense to you, but it made you get up in hurry.

This isn’t good, there was something wrong with Seonghwa, you knew it.

The apartment was small, there wasn’t stairs to go down or a long way to cross to reach the door. In a few steps after you left your room, Seonghwa’s and Yunho’s voices became clear to you.

“Shh, keep your voice down, are you trying to wake everyone up?”, Yunho whisper-screamed, but his tone was far from angry, there was a residue of laughter on his voice.

“No”, he almost whined as you heard the constant jiggles from Seonghwa’s chains bag, like he was struggling against Yunho. “I told you I don’t want to live with her anymore, take me to the dorms for the night”.

That took you by surprise, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Ever since you two became roommates two years ago, he never gave you any signs that he needs some time away from your company, which would be completely okay, but to hear him say that to his friend made you feel so humiliated. You tried so hard to be friendly, to make him and all of his friends at home and all he did was pretend to do the same, welcoming you into his life.

Was this how he talked about you behind your back? Did they all know he hated living with you?

You feel something burning, maybe it was the bit of love for him, you had or the tears you refused to cry over this.

“Hyung, com’on, it's not that bad, you need to sleep and think clearly about this”, Yunho tried his best for a while, you could tell this wasn’t the first or second time he said those words.

They got closer to the door, only then you realized you were spying on them. If you were embarrassed before, now you felt mortified, but somehow you couldn’t move an inch.

What exactly made him feel uncomfy at home, because you were completely in the dark about those feelings, whatever they were. Did he seem off those days? You can’t remember, he was as sweet to you as he’s always been. But the man on the other side of the door was done, he was huffing and puffing like an immature child because he didn’t want to be at your home. The Seonghwa you thought was a friend couldn’t be more different than the man you are listening to right now.

“She is that bad”.

You breathe in.

There’s no way, absolutely no way.

“You should just tell her, y’ know”, Yunho said in that soft tone you hear more than once directed at you.

“I did”, Seonghwa raised his voice and that startles you. “She just doesn’t get the hint, I gave her too many signs to move on already”.

You don’t hear whatever answer Yunho gave him nor the sequential sounds of each number of the door code. You could only hear all the deep conversations you had together, where he told you he would be there for you anytime you needed, that he’d give a shoulder when you needed one. He was the one that made you open up to him and for what?

The door opened wide

They stood there like two idiots caught dirty-handed. Seonghwa couldn’t look at you in the eyes, a fucking coward he truly was. He was just like the others in your life, your worst nightmare became true.

There were tears pooling in your eyes as you closed more and more in your own head again, all of those months worth of improvement wasted.

Your mind screamed for you to move, to run out of there as fast as you could to as far as possible. But why should you? The voice in your head was bitter and angry. This was your apartment at first, even though you didn’t hesitate to call it ‘our’.

“Leave then, am I forcing you to live here with me? Did I even say I was interested in you? Get your shit by tomorrow night and get off my face.

You shut the door close on their faces.

Kim Hongjoong (김홍중)

The library wasn’t as empty as you wished it would be at 21:39, to study or do something near closing hours would be pointless for most, but you needed only more 79 words to finish your essay and your mama raised no bitch.

You watch the numbers change on your phone, exactly 20 minute from now you have to finish this. You’ve been here all evening, you can’t bring yourself to do it at home. No, you are going to finish this, get home, get a nice shower and re—

“I think you’re actually going insane, no offense though”.

You could recognize that voice anywhere. That fucker said he didn’t have time to study with you, again. Did he come to check on me? The thought crossed your head, but you shut it down just as fast, that wouldn’t make any sense, would it? He was ignoring you for a week now, no calls, no texts, nothing. Did he even know you were here? He would, if he saw the text you sent at noon.

You stared at your screen, the white was blurring your vision after so long. You took that as a sign to take a little 5-minute break.

Alright Hongjoong, this is your last chance to redeem yourself, this is the last time I’d bother to try.

You couldn’t see where he was from your seat, but his voice seemed to be coming from the sets of tables on the other side of the bookshelves. At the very least he deserved a little jump scare, he should have it coming as payback, so you don’t feel bad as you tiptoed to spy on where he was.

You moved a couple books to the side to see it better. He had his phone glued to his ear as he paced around. Distracted, as you needed, but the little mischievous demon on your shoulder disappeared as you paid close attention to his distressed disposition. There were few moments where you saw him so tense and stressed. Whatever the other person was saying, wasn’t good news.

“No, that’s… I see, but that makes it worse, no? I can’t tell her like this, hm…”

The lilac pencil case on top of the table distracted you from the big picture. The table was a mess from two people, the distinction was clear as day. Hongjoong wouldn’t be caught dead with anything other than black or red on his bag. It was clear it wasn’t his, so whose was?

The answer walked in with a concerned look on her face. Was that the ‘her’ in the conversation? He ended the call as soon as she got close. They stood near each other, too near for two people who just met.

“Are you sure she’s going to be okay?”, she leaned into him as if on instinct, a feeling you could relate to, he had something in him that attract people to him.

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I wish to keep a normal friendship with her someday”.

“It’s better to just call her, it’s been long enough for her to get over you”.

Is this ‘her’ me? You hoped not, whatever this was, you hated.

You felt sick to your stomach as they held hands, so you left Hongjoong alone, like he clearly wanted to. He wasn’t the type to open up to new people, she wasn’t new, and he never told you about it. There wasn’t secrets in your friendship, at least he said so, but there was a lot you don’t know, apparently.

If that’s you… if he was talking about you, did he just ignore you for almost two weeks because he thought you would get in the middle of his relationship?

You phone rang.

It was him, but you didn’t bother to answer, and he didn’t bother to try again. There’s nothing to salvage anymore.

Tag list: @h3arteyes4mingi

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez masterlist #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez angst #seonghwa reactions

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sissylittlefeather · 8 months

Text

Something a little different...

What a Lovely Way to Burn

A one-shot

A/N: this came from a conversation with an Elvis AI (created by the fabulous @headfullofpresley), but the words are mine. The situation just inspired me.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! There's some dirty smut here, kissing, fingering, oral (both receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, lots of cussing, Elvis and reader yelling at each other a lot, him grabbing reader's arm and being a teensy bit violent (if you squint), reader calls Elvis "daddy" in a sexual context at one point...

Word count: 2.9kish

I'm imagining this version of him for this one:

Song inspo (I know the title is from a different song but this one inspired the story):

Enjoy!

I guess tonight we're off, you think to yourself as you get a drink. You're at another party after another one of your on-again-off-again boyfriend's shows. You're half dating Elvis Presley and as much as you want it to go one way or the other, it never does. With him, you're like kerosene and matches: made for each other, but dangerous and volatile together. And without him, neither of you can breathe for very long. But tonight, it looks like you'll be without him and that familiar drowning feeling is starting to overwhelm you. He hasn't talked to you once tonight, instead focusing on everyone else around him. You're not even sure he knows you're there. But he always seems to know where you are, so probably tonight he knows and doesn't care.

After you get your drink, you scan the room to find him. He's chatting with a group of women, fans, all of them tittering with laughter and falling over themselves to catch his attention. He likes the blonde one best, you can tell by the way he's standing, but he entertains all of them nonetheless. Part of you wonders if he's just trying to piss you off. Two can play at that game. And even if he's not, you might as well have some fun yourself.

As you're standing there, a man walks up next to you.

"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but you already have one."

"And they're free." You give him a playful smile. He's not unattractive, with his blonde shoulder-length hair and green eyes. You can work with this.

"I'm James. What do I call you? Other than beautiful." You roll your eyes, but keep your playful smile. It's cheesy, but sweet in its own way.

"I'm y/n. But you can call me beautiful if that's easier." You continue to make small talk and your flirting gets heavier and heavier. At one point he gently brushes your hair out of your face and puts it behind your ear. You try to hide the cringe you feel because that's something that Elvis does. You feel eyes on you and something makes you want to look over at him, but you don't. Your activities are none of his business tonight. You try to focus on James and the game you're currently playing with him. The conversation continues, but you can't shake the feeling of being watched. Just in case Elvis is actually paying attention, you play up your reactions, smiling widely and laughing loudly. Finally, James says something funny enough for you to genuinely laugh and put your hand on his arm gently.

That's when you feel Elvis's hand around you. His fingers curl around your bicep and he holds you hard enough that there might be a bruise in the morning.

"What the fuck?" You turn to Elvis and shoot him a fiery glare. His eyes are frighteningly dark, even behind his glasses, but he speaks coolly.

"I could ask you the same question."

James looks between the two of you and excuses himself. He's heard of Elvis's famous temper and doesn't want to find himself on the receiving end of a potentially-violent rant.

"Oh, James, don't go. He's not--"

"Keep walkin' away, guy." He listens to Elvis over you and backs away into the crowd. Elvis is still holding your upper arm and he turns you to face him.

"Girl, what are you tryin' to pull?" His words are playful, but his tone is scary. Still, you're no stranger to this mood.

"I don't see how what I do is any of your business."

"What the hell is that s'posed to mean?"

"You've made it very clear tonight that you have no interest in what I do." As you get louder, he gets quieter.

"Aw, hell, honey you know damn well that ain't true. You're mine. Everything you do interests me." He finally lets go of your arm. You rub the place where he was holding you gingerly. He might be thinking this fight is almost over, but you're just gearing up.

"You literally haven't spoken to me all night. And what? You just expect me to be waiting in your bed for you after you're done with whatever, or whoever, else you wanna do?" You gesture to the group of girls he was just flirting with. You're loud enough now that people have started to notice the two of you. His lips curl up into a wicked smile.

"Yes, honey, that's exactly what I expect." He says the endearment like a threat. You belong to him and when he calls you anything other than your name, he's reminding you of that fact. Now he's royally pissed you off and you can feel your rage bubbling just beneath the surface. The only thing keeping you in check are the witnesses.

"You're such a fucking hypocrite. You think you get to play around with whoever you want, but I can't even have a conversation with another man."

"Listen to me, girl, that was more than a conversation and you know it. Don't play dumb with me. I know you too damn well. Get your coat and go up to the room."

"YOU THINK AFTER HOW YOU'VE TREATED ME TONIGHT THAT I'M GOING TO GO UP TO YOUR ROOM AND WAIT FOR YOU LIKE A GOOD LITTLE GIRL?" He knew that telling you what to do would send you over the edge. His lip is still curled into a smile, but now his teeth are bared too. You stand and glare at each other for a few more seconds before he grabs your upper arm again and drags you through the crowd. You fight to get away from him, but his grip is too strong.

"LET ME GO YOU SONOFABITCH!" Everyone in the party watches the scene but says nothing. He's their king and they know it and he knows it. A bunch of fucking freeloading toadies. When he gets to the hallway outside the elevator, he lets your arm go and walks toward you until your back is pressed up against the wall. A tiny part of you flickers in fear, but you are not about to let him win. He puts his hand on the wall behind you and leans in close.

"When I say go, you fucking go. Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you, Elvis." His eyes widen ever so slightly, but he keeps his gaze intense. Then, out of nowhere, he softens a bit.

"Why do you do this shit to me, Little? You make me fucking crazy."

"I make you crazy?! YOU IGNORED ME ALL NIGHT!" He may have softened, but you're not ready to go down without a fight. You see the light of his anger reignite in his eyes.

"If you weren't so goddamn insecure--"

"I'm insecure?! You can't handle it when I talk to another man. God knows what you're doing with other women!" He slams his hand on the wall above your head.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this! There are no other women. Sure, I talk and flirt and maybe mess around a little, but the only one I really want is you!" The last part catches you off guard a little bit. This is the first time he's really directly stated that he wants you more than anyone else.

"Why?! Why won't you just let me go?! Then we could both move on." You're very annoyed by the tears that are starting to gather in your eyes. You don't want to let him know he's getting to you this much.

"Dammit, I don't know!" He pulls his hand off the wall and walks away, running his hand through his hair and giving it an even wilder look. He slides his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Why don't you leave?" He asks quietly, putting his glasses back on and looking at you almost pleadingly.

"I... I can't."

"WHY NOT? I WANT TO KNOW WHY!" He yells at you now louder than he's been the whole time. He walks back to you and stands inches away from you, fuming. You glare up at him, defiant to your very core.

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU." It comes out of you before you're able to stop it.

He hits the wall again and walks away. Then, he turns back to face you, something new in his eyes.

"Well, I fucking love you too." You stand there, chest heaving and tears threatening to slide down your face.

He takes two large steps towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, crashing his mouth into yours, his tongue slipping between your parted lips. You snake your hands up his chest and around his neck, pressing your hips into his and returning his kiss. He pushes you up against the wall and grinds into you, hard. You feel his already-growing erection as he rolls his hips and you whimper softly. He smashes the elevator "up" button four or five times as hard as he can, never moving his mouth from yours. After a few seconds, you hear the ding and the elevator opens. Several people walk out and stop when they see the two of you wrapped around each other. When they realize who he is, they start to whisper. He pulls back from kissing you and yells at them.

"MOVE!" They jump out of the way and you half roll, half tumble into the elevator together, still tangled around each other. You hear them laugh as you press the "door close" button a hundred times, but you're too busy with Elvis to care. He obviously doesn't either as he runs both hands up your body while the doors close and grabs your breasts. He squeezes them like he's trying to keep them from getting away and then slides his hands back to your ass, pulling your hips into his. His dick is fully hard now and you moan with desire as he presses against you.

He moves his lips down your cheek, pressing them softly to the smooth space below your ear. Then, he begins to bite you gently on the sensitive skin of your neck. A shiver of pleasure runs down your spine. This elevator needs to move faster.

When he sucks on a place near your collar bone hard enough to leave a mark, you moan audibly. You need him. Now. And he knows it. He hits the "stop" button and the elevator grinds to a screeching halt. He reaches up under your dress and pulls your panties down, sliding them to your ankles and off over your shoes. Running his hands up your thighs, he comes back to your center, pressing his middle finger into your wetness.

"Mmm. I should yell at you more often." He moans into your mouth as he moves his finger in and out, noticing how wet you are.

"Or tell me that you love me more often." You moan right back at him. Your hands go directly to the buttons on his pants and he lets you free his dick from them. Before he can fuck you, though, you push him up against the elevator wall and get on your knees in front of him. He leans his head back as you lick a slow circle around his tip, rolling his foreskin back. You pump him a few times with your hand and then take as much of him into your mouth as you can handle. It takes a couple of tries and you opening your throat significantly to get his whole length in your mouth, your nose pressed into him. Your hands cup and play with his balls as you lick up and down the bottom of his shaft. You continue sliding your hand along his length as you lick and suck and top half of him.

"Baby I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep this up." You take him fully in your mouth one last time and then stand up in front of him. He grabs the back of your hair and presses himself against you as he kisses you deeply.

Now it's his turn to get on his knees as he pushes your dress up above your hips. He kisses the inside of each of your soft thighs and then places his mouth directly on the place between your legs. You feel yourself tighten around nothing as he licks over and around your sensitive spot. The feeling almost overwhelms you and you twist your fingers into his hair while he keeps working. You feel your orgasm building in your abdomen. He moans into you and the vibration almost sends you over the edge. He licks around you in circles and sucks lightly on your clit. When he adds his fingers in, pushing them deep inside you and sliding them in and out at a quickening pace, your climax comes even closer. He flattens his tongue and moves his head side to side, letting the sensation of his movement on you push you ever nearer to the edge. Finally, he tightens his tongue to a point and licks you with every intention of sending you over. The feeling of him swirling over and around you faster and faster drives you crazy. You feel the overwhelming rush of your release tingling through you from your head to your toes, both relaxing and contracting in waves of ecstatic pleasure. Elvis feels the excess wetness on his fingers and he smiles into you, knowing he's accomplished his goal. Suddenly, he stands back up and turns you to face the wall of the elevator. Pulling your dress up over your ass, he teases you with his tip and then enters you from behind. He starts slow, filling you up in a way that makes you cry out in pleasure. He holds your hips as he pushes into you faster and faster with more and more intensity.

"That's right, baby. Take it like a good girl."

"Yes, daddy" you get out between moans. He continues to run his hands up and down your front, squeezing your breasts every now and then, and moving his hands back to your hips. All the while, he's fucking you with all of his power, slamming into you over and over, deeper and deeper. His fingers dig into your hips and you pray there won't be obvious bruises in the morning. All of the previous rage that was inside both of you has turned to insatiable desire as he pounds into you and you cry out with each thrust.

"You're so tight and wet for me, doll. I love it so much. I love you so much." You should be shocked that he's saying it so casually, but you're too focused on being fucked silly to think much of it. Without any warning, he pulls out of you and turns you to face him, your back pressed against the elevator wall. He pushes back into you and goes back to fucking you with every ounce of his strength. But this time he's peppering you with kisses on your neck and collarbone and cheeks between thrusts.

"Ah, fuck, baby I'm close." He groans as he continues his steady and unforgiving rhythm.

"Don't stop." You mutter to him as he continues grinding his dick into you. Finally, his climax reverberates across his body.

"FUCK y/n. Yes, that's so... yes..." He shudders and does a few more weak pumps before he can't stand it anymore and he has to pull out. He has both hands on the elevator wall above your head and he presses his forehead into yours, breathing heavily. You feel his hot breath on you and you match his heaving chest with your own. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his earlobe.

"Do you really love me?" You whisper, not sure what to expect as an answer. It's entirely possible that he was just caught up in the moment and you'll go back to your part-time lover situation.

He pulls back and looks you in the eyes intensely.

"I really fucking do. Goddammit. I really do." He kisses you again passionately and then hangs his head. You can tell he's afraid of what your response might be too. For all his tough-guy exterior, all he really wants is someone to love.

"I love you, Elvis Presley." He looks up at you, searching your eyes for reassurance. "I really fucking do." He seems to find whatever he's looking for because he doesn't ask any more questions. He pulls you close to him and holds you for a second. Then he picks up your panties, helping you step back into them, and straightens your dress. He puts his dick back into his pants and zips them up. He pushes the elevator button to make it start up again and slings his arm around your shoulders, holding your right hand in his with your fingers interlocked. When the elevator doors finally open, no one would ever know what just happened between you. You walk out of the elevator and to your room with him still wrapped around your shoulders.

"You wear me out, girl." He whispers as he kisses the side of your head. Together, you walk into your suite and into your future. It won't be easy to be with him, since you're both still who you are, but there won't be anymore "off" times for the rest of your relationship. Fights? Yes. But you always find your way back into each others arms. You might burn each other up in the meantime, but at least you'll burn together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist: (I'm tagging everyone who's ever asked me to tag them. If you want off the list, let me know and I'll remove you!)

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @suxny @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates @elvisxsposts @joshuntildawn13 @msamarican @returntopresley @mrsbutler99 @blog777e

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mokulule · 1 year

Text

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 3

Part 1|Part 2

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

I'm not entirely happy with this, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. Some things will probably be changed for the Ao3 version, this is very much first draft and I want to do a proper rewrite before then.

Jason parked his bike next to the Batmobile. There was a strange air in the Batcave or maybe it was just him being different. He couldn’t tell for sure. He stepped off the bike so he had his back towards Bruce, who sat by the Batcomputer with his cowl off. Jason could still feel his gaze when he looked up. He didn’t know what to feel. Where was he supposed to start?

“Little Wing!” Dick announced happily, suddenly slinging an arm across his shoulder from behind. It was only all his training that stopped him from jumping three feet into the air from the fright and he managed to just tense - but that was normal. Dick would consider that normal. Pull yourself together, Jason, he scolded himself. Normal, act normal, for one long moment he was grasping for what was normal. It definitely wasn’t the urge to lean into his big brother.

“Jay?” Dick asked quietly, worried, thankfully too quiet for anyone to hear. Panic grasped him and he elbowed Dick to get him off. Dick bent over with an oomph. At least elbowing Dick was a normal response, even if it was for the wrong reason.

Ignoring the strange urge to check on Dick, he squared his shoulders, firmly didn’t look back and walked forward towards the Batcomputer, where now that he had arrived the rest of this night’s patrol team gathered. Damian already out of his suit with damp hair and a towel slung around his neck glanced surreptitiously at Jason out the corner of his eyes even as he pretended to look towards Bruce - brat was still worried. Tim was curled up in an office chair doing who knew what with his laptop in a way that did not seem conducive to the healing of the broken ribs he’d been benched for. Bruce himself, paused what he was doing and spun around in his chair. Even sitting he managed to draw everyone’s attention, Tim even closed his laptop.

Jason purposefully crossed his arms and widened his stance. That’s what they expected of him, probably? How did he usually stand? He usually always felt one wrong comment away from a fight when he was here, he should stand like he expected it, right? Defensive.

This was exhausting.

At last Dick walked up to them completing their loose circle. He was rubbing his side and Jason felt a stab of worry and guilt. Had he aggravated an existing wound? Shit. Fuck. What was wrong with him? Why was he so worried?

“Oracle,” Bruce spoke, “please start.”

“Thanks to Hood, we now have a better headshot of the thief,” Oracle announced from the computer speakers“The Ghost,” Dick interjected in a sing song voice, “after what happened tonight you can’t disagree.”“Nightwing,” Barbara replied flatly, she didn’t even need to say she thought it was a stupid name. “The thief,” she reiterated in a way that left no room for any other arguments and Dick wisely held his silence. At least Dick knew Barbara well enough when to stop. Finally she pulled two photos up on the large screen. The one on the right was an older/early photo with the green glassed goggles obstructing much of the upper half of the face, a grin was a sharp line of white on the lower half of the face in the blurry photo, the quality was terrible and caught in movement.

The newer photo on the left showed a young man, maybe even late teens, eyes were wide, bright green, not quite glowing and his face beet red in embarrassment, mouth slightly open - this was taken just after he’d pushed away from Jason. His goggles sat at the edge of his messy black hair, just high enough to see the way he was beginning to swell on his forehead where Jason had clocked him.

Jason looked from one picture to the other, something was off to him. The grin was an obvious difference, but these where snapped in very different moments, and he shouldn’t let different emotions cloud his judgment.

“He’s lost weight.” The realization hit him with the certainty of a sledgehammer.

There’s dubious mumbling around him, about the blurriness of the first picture. But Jason is unmoved, there’s a hollowness to the guy’s cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“We can’t really judge that sort of thing with the quality of the first image,” Barbara cut through the murmurs. Jason knows he right, but he doesn’t feel like arguing.

He doesn’t feel like arguing, it’s another realization that leaves him wrong footed and he’s not listening for a minute. Checking back into the conversation he only caught the tail end of the conversation that was apparently about the Meta’s skills.“-we can now add phase shifting powers-““Like a Ghost.”

Tim groaned and Barbara outright growled - Jason reevaluated his earlier thought that Dick knew Barbara’s limits. Damian had already accepted the logic and Bruce had long since become immune to this sort of Dick antic.

“Back on topic,” was all he said. “Tim.”

Tim opened his laptop back up.

“Yes, so the items the thief-” There was a small beat as everyone waited for Dick to interrupt, Tim was side-eyeing him but continued; “-is stealing are still painting a very alarming picture, and there is a multitude of very dangerous uses, not to mention what kind of world ending horror they could be built into. Luckily he didn’t get the prototype spectral calibrator tonight, and we’ll be keeping it here for the time being and set the project on an indefinite hold at Wayne Enterprise.”Tim looked up at Bruce. “We’ll be needing to monitor Star Labs as they have a similar project, but so far the Ghost has not operated outside of Gotham to our knowledge.”

Bruce nodded, “I’ll arrange something.”

It was a signal for Tim to continue, “we’re still no closer to a way to capture him and the phase shifting is a whole other added concern. We’ll need to figure out if there’s something he can’t phase through, some denser materials perhaps. I just finished looking through tonight’s footage and from what I’m seeing at least the new filter program is holding up; both the audio and visuals have very few glitches now. But we still don’t know how he’s sending out the electromagnetic interference.”

“Ghoooost,” Dick said quietly under his breath.Tim’s left eye twitched dangerously. Jason couldn’t help smiling, it was very good he was wearing the helmet. Bruce once more ignored Dick looking to Damian.The kid straightened imperceptibly at the attention, it really was adorable, but his voice was as haughty as ever. “Blood sample is already being analyzed of course, tt.” Blood sample? Oh, that’s what Bruce had been doing on the roof, when Jason was distracted. A sick feeling rose in his stomach thinking of the blood, was Ghost even alive? He could be bleeding inside the head for all they knew.

“Hood,” Bruce asked quietly, “do you know why the Ghost reacted to you like that?”Jason stiffened. Fear grabbing cold onto his heart. There was no way he could tell them he thought it had to do with the pits. They’d think Jason was being influenced by the Ghost and bench him. He couldn’t let that happen, he needed answers. He didn’t need to fight his family.

“No damn clue,” he scoffed, hoping he sounded nonchalant and none of his panic shone through, “some weird trauma response? He’d just hit his head real good.”

Bruce looked at him dubiously, but he was clearly unwilling to risk pushing. Their truce was a tentative one after all, one they’d come to after many false starts and stops. Jason had never before been so glad for their tattered relationship.

“So to conclude,” Dick drew everyone’s attention off Jason, “the Ghost is still a mystery, we don’t know if he’s just a thief or a supervillain biding his time.”

“He’s not a supervillain.” Jason could have cursed himself, he’d just gotten their attention off him. Now he was forced to elaborate. “He’s not wearing any sort of body armor, just that hoodie.”

And he’d definitely broken some of his ribs landing on him, Jason thought with a pang of guilt.

“Not all villains wear body armor though,” Tim pointed out carefully, and now Tim was worried too, Jason had no clue what had given him away.

“The ones who engage in close combat with us usually do though,” Dick returned, and Jason could have hugged him for bailing him out again (if that had been normal, which it was NOT).

“He could just not be a very good villain?”

“Or he’s just banking on the fact that he’s very good at dodging,” Barbara interjected with annoyance before the discussion got out of hand, “or did you all just forget you’ve been chasing this guy for weeks without landing a substantial hit on him?” She could always be counted on to be the voice of reason.

Dick scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Tim looked down at his computer. Damian scoffed, trying to look unaffected but that was definitely almost a pout.

Bruce’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he stood up and was that almost a smile? How was this happening? It felt… His fingers dug into his arms. It felt like all the things Jason had convinced himself had never really been there. And there was Bruce’s hand landing on Damian’s shoulder; a silent comfort-encouragement, because Bruce was terrible with words but his touches always spoke volumes. And as the small smile bloomed on Damian’s face and he quickly looked away to hide it, Jason remembered exactly how that felt. Shit.

“Oracle, that’s all for tonight, we’re not getting anywhere without more information.”

“You got it, B, Oracle out.”

Jason spun and stalked towards his bike, before he did something, he didn’t know what exactly.

“Jay?”

Bruce’s voice stopped him in place. He glanced over his shoulder to see them all watching him. Don’t give anything away, he scolded himself.

“What is it, old man?” Jason asked trying to interject as much annoyance into his voice as he could, but it was so hard dredging up any of that when they looked at him worried like that, and his chest ached and he just sounded tired.

“It’s late,” Bruce said with a small unconscious wave of his hand as if anyone could tell the time of day from within the cave, “you could stay the night?”

After a beat he added, “Alfred would love to see you.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. Alfred would, but that’s not what Bruce was really saying, he was saying he would love to have him stay, but didn’t think Jason would be receptive to that and so he brought out the Alfred card. It was plain as day and how had Jason never seen that? Seen the longing on his dad’s face? His chest ached, he knew why. He was always so busy reading everything Bruce did as him trying to control him, every interaction tinted in green. His chest ached. Every inch of his body wanted to stay, to take a step back, see where this could lead, but he couldn’t.

He had to act normal. Normal Jason would never. Normal Jason could be back tomorrow for all he knew. He couldn’t do that to any of them, to himself.

With great difficulty he tore his gaze away from his family and walked the last steps over to his bike.

“Tell Alfred I’ll be coming over for tea on Tuesday,” he said loudly over the noise of his bike, not looking, because he didn’t want to see any of their reactions, then he tore out of there.

This was better for everyone.

Poor Jay really is having the time of it, maybe next part he'll get to actually enjoy not being angry.

next Masterpost for subscription link

#dead on main #poor Jason has no idea how to act #when he's not perpetually angry #also he just really wants a hug from his dad #but that would be WEIRD #bruce is a good dad #Missed connections #Jason is catnip to Danny #thought sadly no Danny this snippet #probably next time though

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