#i mean it though your calculations are spot on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeyhotteoks · 4 months

Text

this night together - chapter fourteen (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter fourteen: what we mean to each other

chapter summary: making amends is hard, moving on is hard, but you have a home now in a way you've never had before. together, you move forward through it all.

warnings/notes: this chapter still deals with the aftermath of the attack, so all previous warnings apply, but i think you'll see we're coming out of it now and into much happier times. this is the start of an absolute fluff fest, and we'll be back to smut in the next chapter. specific warnings for: discussions of physical attack, anxiety, ptsd, consent conversations, past s*xual assault (mentioned in passing), issues with police and the legal system because lbr the cops aren't doing anything good for assault victims, and reader has a triggering moment with her neck but she works through it just fine

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 14.3k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

It’s been days. Days of staying safe behind the walls of their apartment, days of dodging calls from your friends, days of cocooned self preservation. They haven’t left you for a single minute. You spent the weekend trading off who’s lap you were cuddled on and bickering over episodes of Single’s Inferno and you’ve never needed anything more.

Slowly though, things start to shift.

You’re showered, for one. And Yunho and Mingi both have settled back into their routines as best they can without leaving the apartment. Video games, mindless scrolling, paging through books and cooking balanced meals instead of another day of takeout.

On Monday, Seonghwa confirms your worst suspicions by texting you a photo of the formal letter he received via Minseok’s attorney. You expect Yunho and Mingi’s are in the mail. Every time your phone chimes you expect it to be the police or some other official legal summons. Your mind has started to turn over every detail of the event with calculated detail, and your internet history stretches long with research.

By Tuesday, you’ve caved and finally started answering Wooyoung’s texts with more than just single word responses or emoji confirmations that you’re still alive. The moment you do, he takes the opening and runs with it just like you knew he would.

As you wait for the hot water for your tea to boil in the kettle, you re-read his most recent text again.

Do you want to get out of the house for a bit? We can try that new spot by the bookstore?

Your stomach feels tight at the idea of going out and you do your best to tap out a reply that you think sounds casual and relaxed - Maybe next time, let’s just catch up and relax here?

You watch the message send and deliver and in nearly real-time it flicks over to read. Dots appear as he types.

Sure - his message reads - I’ll be there in an hour

An hour. You shouldn’t be so nervous to see your best friend, but the idea of opening up your little sanctuary to anyone right now feels a little fraught. The kettle whistles, and you hear feet shuffling against the vinyl flooring as Yunho crosses over into the kitchen and you lock your phone and Wooyoung’s messages away so you can focus.

“Hey,” You murmur, giving him a smile as you pull the kettle off the heat.

“Hey,” Yunho smiles back, leaning against the opposite counter, “everything okay?”

“Mhm,” You tell him, just a little white lie.

“Is Woo still coming by?” He questions.

“Yeah,” You nod, setting the kettle on a pad so it doesn’t damage the countertop, “he said around an hour,”

Yunho nods and then slides a bit closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your back once until he settles it on your hip. “Hey,” he says again, “can we talk?”

A nervous pang strikes in your gut, but he doesn’t look upset, so you take a guess at what he wants, “Is it okay that he’s coming?”

“Wooyoung?” His brows draw together, “Of course, that’s not what I meant,”

“Oh,” You turn towards him more fully, leaning against the counter with him, “okay, what’s up?”

“I want to apologize,” He says, swallowing tightly.

“Apologize,” You blink.

He nods.

“Okay,” You can see how whatever he’s about to say is bothering him, the stress under the surface, but you have no idea what he’s sorry for.

“Listen,” He reaches and takes your hand, pulling you a little closer to him, “I know you know I’m sorry, but I haven’t said it clearly and you deserve that,”

“Oh,” You relax further into his space until you can feel your bodies brushing together, the warmth radiating off his skin.

“The way I reacted at the studio after your last heat was wrong,” He says in a rush of air as he laces your hands together, “and I haven’t gotten the chance to really say that,”

“It’s okay,” You shake your head, soothing him a little, “you don’t have to,”

“No,” He insists with a squeeze of your fingers, “I do. That day, I was worried and jealous and confused, but I let my anger get the better of me and that’s not something I normally do.”

You squeeze his fingers back, letting him know you’re listening.

His eyes flick up from your joined hands to your eyes as he continues, “It’s not something I should have ever put on you or something you should ever see,”

“People get angry,” You start to say.

He’s firm when he shakes his head, “People get angry, but I don’t get angry at you. Ever.”

“Yunho,”

“I yelled at you,” He squeezes your hands, “I cursed at you,”

“I did the same thing right back,” You remind him.

“It’s not the same,” He presses, brushing right past your words, “and I’m apologizing because I’m telling you, y/n, it will never happen again.”

“You think we’ll never have a fight?” You smile, “That’s optimistic,”

“This isn’t a joke,” He sighs, “please,”

“I’m sorry,” You tuck closer to him, unlacing your hands so you can snake your arms around his middle, “and I appreciate you apologizing for that fight, but I was upset you were being possessive and emotional after all the cold shoulder, you yelling wasn’t really high on my list of concerns,”

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he nods, “I’ll get to that in a second, but will you hear me on this one thing?”

“I’m listening,”

“I hate to bring it up again,” He grimaces a little, “but I’ve just spent four days watching you jump at every noise around the apartment and wake up every night fucking terrified,”

Your eyes shoot down.

“And before I apologize for all the other ways I’ve been an ass to you,” His warm hands settle on your skin, thumb brushing along your jaw, “of which I know there are many,”

You smile at that.

“Yelling at you like that,” He sighs, “talking to you like that has been bothering me for months. I need to apologize for it because I need you to know that you’ll never, ever hear it again. Mingi said his peace, but it’s important to me that you know you’re safe with me in every way. If we’re going to do this, I need you to know you can tell me anything, including telling me off when I make mistakes, and I won’t get angry like that again.”

“I already know that,” You look up, meeting his firm gaze and reaching for his cheek, “and I hope you understand that I know the difference between how you were angry then and what he did and how he spoke to me.”

“I just had to say it,” He nods, “I would hate it if anything I ever did made you afraid to be honest with me, or made you feel like you’ve been feeling the past few days, I’d never,”

“Baby,” You cup his cheeks in both hands, holding his eyes so he hears you fully, “I forgive you, and I am not afraid or uncomfortable with you or with Mingi. Not at all.”

“Good,” He exhales hard, his eyes a little shiny and you press forward to wrap your arms around him and hug him close, his arms closing around your back.

“If you’re being idiots,” You kiss his chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, “I’ll tell you you’re being idiots,”

He laughs low, the vibration running through your chest, “Good.”

“And if I’m being an idiot,” You add, “I’m not going to freak out if you get pissed at me or yell at me,”

“I appreciate that,” He squeezes your shoulders, “but I don’t want to be the guy that yells, that’s not really an alpha stereotype I’ve ever wanted to fit.”

“Okay,” You nod against him.

He clears his throat a little roughly and you’re about to pull away but he holds you steady for a moment, “There’s one more thing,”

Your hand strokes a line down his back, as you hum softly, “Hmm?”

“I have more to say and to apologize for,” You can feel his heart beating a little faster under your cheek and you stroke his back again, “but I’m still figuring out how to do that, and it might not be fair of me to ask, but I wanted to see if you can be patient with me for that.”

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?”

“I, uh,” His fingers flex tightly against your skin, “I started seeing someone,”

“Someone?”

“Professionally,” He adds, “Mingi used to and I know it helped. I didn’t think I needed to, but I think we can both agree I am not the best at managing my own emotions here,”

“Oh,”

“So,” He breathes, “after our fight, when I finally cooled off and realized what we did I asked him for a referral. I’ve been meeting with her once a week and it’s been helpful, but I’m not ready to apologize to you for the rest of it until I understand why I treated you like that,”

Emotion fills your chest like a balloon and you nod into him, “Yunho,”

He clears his throat again, “Sorry,” he says, “this is a little uncomfortable for me to talk about, but I’m working on it,”

You wriggle out of his arms to find his face again and press up on your tiptoes to catch his mouth, kissing him with as much surety as you can before you lean back, “That means everything to me,” you tell him, “everything. You have all the time in the world from me, okay?”

“Yeah,” He smiles, “good, okay,”

“Is it helping?”

“Definitely,” He nods, “it’s almost like the professionals know what they’re talking about,”

You smile up at him.

“I know I mentioned it before,” He adds quickly, “and I won’t press it, but if you do feel like it would be helpful for you too, you can come to me and I can ask my therapist for some numbers for you to call. I’ll even help set up an appointment if you need that,”

Your chest goes tight at the thought, “I’ll let you know,”

“Okay,” He smooths a hand up and down your back, “no pressure,”

“For sure,” You manage.

His lip quirks up and he presses a long kiss to your forehead as he gives you one more squeeze, “I said I won’t press, don’t panic,”

“Sorry,” You breathe.

He makes a noise dismissing that and then steps back, “So,” his eyes are bright again, everything equalizing back to normal with his smile, “you were making tea, can I help?”

Your shoulders relax, tension bleeding out of you in an instant, “No,” you turn back to the warm kettle, “but can I make you a cup?”

“Sure,” He pulls two teacups down from the cupboard, “so Woo will be here in an hour?”

“Mhm,” You tap your phone to light up the screen to check for any other texts.

“Got it,” He nods, “would you feel alright with Mingi and I stepping out for a while?”

“Out?”

“I need to run by the studio and check in on things,” He explains, “and we need to get some food in here. I figured we could do that while Wooyoung keeps you company,”

“Yeah,” Your heart picks up a little at the thought, but you press that feeling down and drop a teabag in each of your cups, “I’ll be just fine,”

“Good,” He drops another kiss to your hair, keeping his fingers lingering on your skin while you pour hot water into your cups.

“Do you,” You almost stop the question, but you find the words bubbling out of your mouth before you can second guess, “do you need to leave right away?”

Yunho smiles wide, taking the kettle from your hands as he shakes his head, “No,”

Your heart eases a little.

“Let’s have these together,” He nods to the tea and picks up both cups, “we’ll go when Woo gets here,”

You follow him out into the living room, and he sets the cups down on the table before settling himself into the corner cushions and reaching up for you. It’s easy to take his hand and to melt into the familiar position on his lap, and you let him draw you in close and cuddle you, his arms wrapped securely around you as he nuzzles your cheek with his nose.

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest and turning your face a little to catch his mouth in a kiss.

He hums pleasantly against your mouth, “Is it strange to say that I’ll miss you while we’re out?”

You smile, shaking your head, “No,”

“Will you miss us?” He pecks your lips again.

“More than I want to admit,”

“You know,” Yunho smooths his hands over your body to rest in their familiar homes, one on your thigh and the other curled around your waist, “I hate what happened, and I wish I could take all the bad memories away, but I’m also so glad you’re here with us,”

“I know what you mean,” You nod.

“The months we spent apart were terrible,” He confesses, kissing you softly.

“We’ll have to make up for lost time,” You agree quietly.

“A proper date,” He smiles, “or a vacation somewhere warm?”

“Mm,” You hum, thinking of being stretched out on a beach somewhere with your boys on either side of you, “perfect,”

“I’ll think on that,” He runs a hand down your hair and relaxes back into the couch, “you deserve something nice,”

Twisting on his lap you reach for both of your teacups before settling back into the same, comfortable position, “I think it would just be nice to come over here without having something traumatic happen beforehand,”

He frowns a little.

“I’m kidding,” You nudge him softly, “kind of,”

“I know,” He nods, “still,”

“Yeah,” You quietly agree, taking the first sip of your tea.

Yunho takes a sip too, and then hums a short, quick laugh, “This smells like you,”

“Like me?”

“The tea,” He takes another sip and nods, “you smell just the same, but sweeter,”

“Do you like it?” You find yourself asking.

Yunho’s head cocks slightly to the side, a line between his brows, and then he says, “Have I not made it clear how much I love your scent?”

Your cheeks heat and he smiles at the way your skin reddens.

“Sweetheart,” He shifts, pulling you in while still being careful of the tea, pressing warm, lingering kisses over your jaw to the hollow of your ear, “if I could drink you instead, I would.”

You swallow, heat curling in your belly.

“Soothing tea,” He murmurs, “sweet honey,” he adds with a kiss, “and the willow is sharp and fresh. You wake me up and calm me down all at the same time,”

Your pulse quickens, and slowly your head drops to the side, extending the column of your neck to his lips.

He takes it slow, remembering the way you jerked back in bed a few nights before, and he’s careful not to press too firmly or give you any inclination that he’s going to touch you with anything but his lips.

“You smell like home,” He murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your head in his wide palm, kissing just a little lower still.

Your muscles are stiffening up at the feeling of his mouth getting lower towards your exposed gland and your fingers tighten on his shirt where you hold yourself steady.

“I’ve got you,” He whispers, “stay with me,”

You nod, just a little, enough to tell him not to stop, “W-what else?”

He smiles against your throat, “Well,” he kisses again, to punctuate his words, “when you’re happy, really happy or excited, there’s lemon too,”

Your breath feels staggered, thready, and you focus on the feeling of him and the warmth of the teacups against your thigh.

“When you want us,” He takes a deep inhale, sighing hot against your skin, “it’s all honey, thick and syrupy. After your heat I smelled that honey here for weeks,”

You feel a whine building a little in your throat, and you bite down on your lip to keep it buried. Your body feels like it’s fighting itself with every touch of his mouth, hot arousal knots up at his scent mingling with yours and at his words, but the isolated touch alone has you fighting little flashes of a place that isn’t here and isn’t him.

“I’ve got you,” He repeats, “I love you,”

The reply settles on the tip of your tongue, but then he presses one last closed-lipped kiss directly over your gland and withdrawals entirely. You blink hard, a shudder running up your spine.

“Alright?” He checks, smoothing his hand down your hair again.

You nod, letting your fingers unknot from his shirt while you collect yourself.

“Hopefully that answers your question,” He clears his throat softly.

You start to nod, but the sound of the bathroom door opening cuts through the moment and you start, tea spilling over the lip of your cup onto your fingers.

“It’s Mingi, baby,” He assures you.

“I know,” You have to tear your eyes off the hallway though.

His mouth is set in a concerned little line, and you know he’s probably thinking about your conversation in the kitchen again, but he lets it lie and doesn’t push it, just like he promised.

Mingi appears a moment later, a towel slung around his hips and his shoulders and hair wet from the shower. He smiles widely when he sees you both, “What’s going on in here?”

Yunho raises up his cup, “Tea,” he smiles, “nothing much,”

“Mm,” Mingi nods and stretches, “nice,”

“Will you be ready soon?” Yunho asks, “Wooyoung will be here in a bit,”

“Yeah, sure,” He confirms and then glances at you, “you’re good with us going out?”

“I’m good,” You confirm.

“I’ll stay if it would make you feel better,” Mingi adds, “I can hide in the bedroom and listen to music or something if you want privacy,”

You love them both so much in this moment you feel like your chest might crack right open on its own, and you shake your head at him with a smile, “No, I have to get comfortable at some point, it might as well be while Woo is here with me,”

He nods, “Well, we won’t be too far, just call us and we’ll turn around.”

“Thank you,” You reach up to take his hand and he twines his fingers with yours immediately.

Yunho shifts, pressing his lips against your shoulder, “Are you and Woo going out anywhere?”

He’s clearly trying to be subtle, but you hear the anxious note in his voice and it occurs to you that they might be just as nervous leaving you as you are staying here without them.

You shake your head, “No, just staying here,”

“That’s good,” Mingi adds a little too quickly, “if you do go out, would you let us know?”

“I will,” You promise them, “but you don’t have to worry,”

“It’s in our nature to worry over you,” Yunho sighs, “but I think we’re both trying not to be overbearing about this whole thing,”

“Trying,” Mingi shrugs, “but also the idea of not knowing where you are feels like it might give me hives,”

You laugh at the image, easing back into Yunho’s chest.

“To be clear,” Yunho shoots Mingi a look, “that’s in a nice ‘we care about you’ way, not in a ‘controlling boyfriend’ kind of way,”

“Relax,” You tell them both, “I get why you want to know, it’s the same reason I want to know where you are.”

“Studio first,” Mingi offers without you asking and your chest warms, “then groceries, and then I want to swing by that cafe that has that caramel cheesecake you like, then home,”

“Don’t say we don’t have to,” Yunho adds, “we want to,”

You smile as he takes the words right out of your mouth.

“Plus, I want some,” Mingi says with ease.

You’re not used to this type of relationship yet, having alphas of your own who actually want to be with you and take care of you, who worry for you and feel for you in all the deep nervous ways you feel for them. You hush the nagging voice in your mind that tries to tell you not to show them how much you need them, the voice that doesn’t want you to jump too fast, you already know what you get by listening to that voice.

Instead you ask them what you want to ask, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Two hours,” Yunho offers, “maybe three at the most,”

“Okay,” You exhale, weight dropping away from your shoulders, “that’s perfect,”

“We’ll let you know,” Mingi adds, “and if you need anything special while we’re out, we can stop,”

You shake your head, “I’m fine,” You assure them, “a little anxious, but you know, it’s good for me.”

Mingi smiles warmly, brushing his hand over your cheek and tilting your face up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, “We’re a phone call away,”

“I know,” You nod.

Yunho sighs as Mingi’s hand drops away, and he kisses your shoulder again, “It’s funny,” he says, “I really don’t want to leave you,”

“We did just spend three months not seeing each other and in a state of constant relationship limbo,” You point out and give him a squeeze, “we really went from nothing to a whole lot of something fast,”

“Not too fast?” Mingi checks, trying to sound casual.

“No,” You say, “and even if it is, I don’t care,”

“We’ve always felt right together,” Yunho adds, “we’re just letting ourselves enjoy it now,”

He’s never said something so true.

Mingi gets dressed and collapses onto the couch next to both, pushing closer into your space with Yunho until you’re both practically on his lap, but it works. You stay knit close together until there’s a knock on the door and then it’s fast kisses goodbye and big hugs from your best friend, and before you can really process it you’re without them for the first time in days.

Your stomach is fluttering, a nervous quiver deep in your gut that you really don’t want Wooyoung to over-analyze. A moment later you find yourself back on the couch in the warm spot Yunho left, wrapping yourself in the blanket you had all shared the night before. You can smell them on it, earthy, warm, and sweet.

Wooyoung watches as you start to relax, and he takes a seat right next to you to keep close, a closed smile on his lips.

You can’t believe you miss them already.

They must miss you too though, because Mingi only makes it a scant ten minutes before he texts you, his message lighting up your phone - Forgot to say I love you - I love you.

“What?” Wooyoung nudges you under the blanket.

You pass your phone to him and he reads the message, his eyebrows shooting up high, “I leave you alone for a few days and you’re all saying ‘I love you’s?”

You grab the phone back and tuck it away, “That’s the thing about life changing trauma,” you laugh, “it really accelerates the big feelings,”

Wooyoung nods, keeping things light, but finds your hand on the back of the couch so he can hold it.

“Also we’re not all saying it,” You confess, “they’re saying it,”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they’ve told me,” You explain, “the day after the studio we had this big talk,”

“Don’t tell me they put all that shit on you like that,” He wraps his hand around yours, “y/n,”

“Not like that,” You shake your head, “it’s actually hysterical, they thought that Seonghwa and I have been dating,”

His eyes go wide, “What?”

“It’s truly the longest story of miscommunication,” You tell him, “at this point I think someone should write a book about me and make it a romantic comedy,”

“Erotica,” Wooyoung smirks.

“Shut up,” You swat at him.

“There have been too many good orgasms for a romcom,” He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, “Anyways, it turns out the whole not talking period while you were all away was just me pining but feeling like I fucked it up, and them pining but thinking I had moved on with Hwa,”

“Damn,”

“But when they realized that they were wrong about that,” You continue, “we just got it all out there,”

“And they love you,” He smiles a little, “and they actually said it,”

“Yeah,” You soften into the cushions.

“I hate to ask the obvious,” He squeezes your hand, “but if you’re so happy about that, why haven’t you told them? You do love them?”

“So much,” The words fly out like you’re defending something, and you run a hand through your hair as you get your real thoughts steady, “I do, Woo, so much. We’re scent matches,”

“I know,” He nods warmly.

“You do?”

“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Wooyoung smiles, “well, apart from you three.”

“Thanks,”

He nudges your thigh with his foot under the blanket, “Honestly, though, after what happened I could see it on them. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and they kept flanking you, watching you like you might disappear,”

A memory of the studio plays like a clip in your mind, the way they held you between them, the three of you against everything. You nod, “They’ve been doing that for days,”

“Which…” Wooyoung trails off, trying to guess where your head is, “you’re happy about?”

“I am,” You nod emphatically, “and I love them, I just… I can’t get the fucking words out of my mouth,”

He sobers a little, sliding closer to you on the couch so he can draw your legs over his lap and give you exactly the kind of comfort you need, “I’m listening, babe, talk to me,”

“I don’t know why,” You hold his hand tighter, “but every time they say it, and I think I’m going to say it back, I’m right back in that room with Minseok’s teeth on my neck and I can’t,” your chest feels tight, “I can’t get it out,”

His eyes soften, empathetic in the way that only he can be, “Does being in love with them scare you?”

“No!” You pull your hand back from his.

“Babe,” He takes your hand back and holds tight, “I’m not saying they scare you, I’m saying does being in love, being vulnerable like that scare you?”

Your shoulders drop, “A little, but,”

“But?”

“I thought about it for three months,” You argue, “I had it rehearsed, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and the big reveal was supposed to be the ‘I love you’ part not the ‘I’m sorry’ part,”

“Your plans on that kind of fell apart when that asshole tried to claim you,” Wooyoung pushes back a little.

“Yeah, no shit,” A flurry of anger bubbles in your belly.

He nods, “And now you’re off kilter,”

“You could say that,”

“You rarely do anything without thinking it through,” He offers, this thumb drawing a comforting line over your palm, “and your plan got fucked, and you’re emotionally vulnerable, and traumatized, and stressed. You feel like you’re out here without a life vest,”

His words stun you silent.

“And this thing you worked up in your mind for three months is now totally derailed,” He continues, “am I on the money?”

You nod.

“Can I ask you something?” He says.

You nod again.

Wooyoung asks this question softly, his voice quiet and gentle, “Do you want to bond with them?”

Your heart thumps in your chest.

“It’s just you and me,” Wooyoung soothes you, “and whether or not you bond with them is your choice, okay? But, babe, is that something you think you’ll want?”

Suddenly you remember the feeling of your heat with them. The way you begged for them, the way it felt so right and so sure that you belonged to each other. You remember how your mind spun imaginary futures that all ended the same way.

Silently, you nod.

“Loving them isn’t bonding,” He murmurs, “you can just love them for now at your own pace.”

Tears prick at the back of your eyes, “What if I can never do it? They can barely touch my neck without me falling apart, what if I can never take a real claim?”

“Oh, babe,” He pulls you towards him, crushing you to his chest, “I wish you called me earlier, you shouldn’t be thinking like this,”

“It was so terrible,” You confess into his shoulder, “I can’t even tell you, I don’t even know how to explain,”

“You don’t have to,” He hushes you, a hand stroking up and down your back, “and I don’t know if this is going to help or hurt, but I know right now you feel like there’s no way you’d ever be able to take a claim without it being scary and awful, but someday you might be able to without even thinking of him.”

A few hot tears escape your eyes.

“And I know I give Yunho and Mingi shit,” He adds, “but you know that both of them would rather die than do something to hurt you or scare you,”

“And if I can never bond?” You manage.

“Then I’d say thank god your scent matches are two men who would never, ever push you into a bond you weren’t ready for,” He says, squeezing you tight, “and I think if you asked them, they’d tell you that they’d rather be with you unbonded and happy than bonded and in pain.”

“You’re right,” You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, “I know you’re right,”

“They’re not going to try to push you into a bond just because you love each other,” He lets you lean back but he slides his hand back into yours, “especially not now,”

“I know that,” You sigh, “rationally, I was just,”

“I’m telling you, I get it,” He eases you, “sometimes you go through something and you think a part of you is wrecked forever, that you’ll never be able to do something again or feel normal again, but you will. I promise,”

You know the truth of him so suddenly you can’t stop the words, “Woo,” you feel your heart beating faster, “did something happen?”

“A long, long time ago,” He says softly, “and today’s not the day for that story, but I’m telling you it does get better and it does soften in your memory and someday your alphas are going to touch your neck and you won’t even think about it, it just won’t be there anymore.”

Grief and relief mingle in your gut at his words, and you want to ask him more, to be there for him like he’s been there for you but you can see it in his face, today isn’t the day for that story.

You squeeze his hand, “I love you, Woo,”

“I love you too,” He assures you.

Silence sits between you for a moment while you turn over his words, and though you can’t imagine the day he’s describing, you still believe him. You have to. You don’t know what happened to him or when, but you’ve never met someone as bright and open and happy as him, and you have to hold onto that truth.

You look down at your combined hands, “Yunho offered to make an appointment with a therapist for me,”

“Say yes,” Wooyoung replies without a thought, “I waited years and I wish I hadn’t,”

“Yeah?”

“Does he have a contact?” Wooyoung asks, drawing your eyes back up, “I have some options for you if not,”

“He said he can ask his therapist for a referral,”

“His therapist?” Wooyoung grins, “I knew I liked him,”

“You’ve been friends for years,” You nudge him.

“Liked him for you,” He corrects, “that’s different,”

“Yeah, yeah,”

“My best friend deserves an alpha who is fully therapized and capable of complex emotions,” Wooyoung says with confidence, “nothing less.”

“Don’t mention that I told you,” You add quickly, “he told me that in confidence, it just slipped out,”

“I wouldn’t,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “that’s private. But between you and me, I’m glad to hear it.”

“Me too,” You sigh.

“And as far as you going?” Wooyoung circles back to the real question at hand, “Say yes, the sooner the better. If Yunho’s offering to help set it up, let him. Making that call is hard, and if he can make it easier, just say yes.”

“Okay,” You sigh, your shoulders dropping.

“And tell them how you’re feeling about bonding,” He adds, “trust me.”

“Maybe,” You say, “I know you’re right. We’re just moving so fast,”

“So slow down,” He offers.

“I don’t know if I want to,” You admit, warmth and nervous energy filling your chest, “it feels right like this, I just don’t know if I can handle a claim,”

“Tell them,” He reiterates, “don’t let them stumble into that one, they might hurt you without even knowing it if they bring it up sooner than you’re ready for.”

“Right,” You nod, “you’re right,”

He huffs a laugh, “Usually am,”

You flick his arm, rolling your eyes, so grateful at him for helping you work through something this hard while still keeping you smiling. You should have called him earlier, he’s right about that too.

You let silence stretch around you both for a moment, and then something occurs to you.

“Do you know anything about the charges Minseok is filing?” You run a hand through your hair, “Not to bring up yet another pleasant subject,”

Wooyoung snorts a little air through his nose and shrugs, “I probably know what you know, have you talked to Hwa?”

You shake your head.

“At all?” He seems surprised.

“I have,” You correct, “but it was quick and we were all on the call. I haven’t been to my place to see if there’s any mail, but I’d guess Yunho and Mingi will get a summons soon.”

Wooyoung nods, “That’s what the police said,”

Your eyebrows raise, “You talked to the police?”

“Seonghwa did,” He clarifies, “and he gave San and I the run down.”

“Why is no one telling me what’s going on?” You exhale heavily.

“Because last we heard you were having nightmares,” Wooyoung rests a hand on your folded legs, “and we don’t have a lot of information to give, and I don’t think any of us want to cause you more stress than you need.”

“Do Yunho and Mingi know?” You press.

“Not exactly,” Wooyoung says, “though, I guess Seonghwa might be telling them now if they stopped by the studio,”

You wait for him to continue, but you’re a little relieved at least that your boys aren’t keeping anything from you directly.

“Seonghwa spoke to the police who explained the charges. Minseok is alleging that the guys misunderstood what they saw and ignored his attempts to explain, and that they used unnecessary force intervening on your behalf.” He says it plainly.

“Misunderstood?” You repeat the word.

“I know,” Wooyoung nods, “we all know, but that’s what he’s saying. The police advised Seonghwa to get an attorney and let him know that further charges were being filed. I think we can safely assume that’s Yunho and Mingi, maybe San if he’s really going after it.”

“Maybe me too,” You add.

“Maybe,” He nods, “but that would be tough to prove I think,”

“Hmm,” Your eyes feel a little unfocused.

“Hey,” Wooyoung gets your attention with a squeeze, “we don’t know anything yet, and we thought this might happen. It doesn’t change the truth and it doesn’t mean any of them regret what they did to make sure you were safe, okay?”

“Yeah,”

“Tell me you understand,” He presses, “because I’m not letting you put this one on yourself,”

“I do, I understand,” You nod, “it just sucks,”

“That’s fair,” He gives you a soft smile, “but it’s going to take a lot more than this to fuck us over,”

“Yeah,” You murmur, “you’re probably right.”

Wooyoung says something else but you hardly hear it, in the back of your mind all you can think of is that first night at the hospital. The detectives who interviewed you were kind, but bordered on dismissive, and you know Minseok and his family have deeper pockets than you do. You have to figure this out, you have to.

“Babe?” Wooyoung nudges you.

“Yeah,” You snap up, coming back to the present moment and letting those anxieties fade into the background until you can really think them through, “sorry,”

“It’s okay,” He soothes you.

Your phone buzzes on your lap again and you pull it up to see the message. It’s Mingi again - Budae Jjigae for dinner, ask Wooyoung if he wants to stay? We’ll have plenty

It’s like he felt your anxiety from miles away and you can feel the tense knot of your shoulders unlocking. You send back a quick heart emoji and then look back up to your friend, “You want to stay for dinner?”

He smiles, “Who’s cooking?”

“Mingi,” You tell him, “he’s been on a comfort food kick for me,”

Wooyoung smiles, “I’ll stay,”

“Great,” You tap out a reply to Mingi letting him know and take a big sigh.

“They make you happy,” Wooyoung says, “it’s nice to see,”

“It’s nice to feel,” You tell him, “after all this time, and after everything,”

“You deserve it,” He murmurs.

You smile, a little tease at the corner of your mouth when you nudge him, “So do you, and speaking of,”

His face lights up fast, “I wasn’t trying to bring my too-good mood over here if things weren’t going well,” he sighs, “but now that I know you’re all in love,”

“So you and Yeosang?” You turn the conversation to something so much happier, and feel lighter the second you do.

“It’s so good,” He gushes, head falling back against the cushions, “he’s kind of quiet, kind of hard to get to know at first, but y/n, he’s so funny,”

“Yeah?” You smile.

“And smart,” He adds, “and considerate, he’s always getting me coffees or refilling my water, just like, those little things,”

“Wow, look at you,” You squeeze his hand, “serial dater of alphas, turned into a blushy mess over a funny, smart, considerate beta,”

“He’s packing like an alpha, I’ll say that,” Wooyoung grins wolfishly.

You smack his chest, “Woo! Literally that is too much information,”

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “I share a locker room with your boyfriends, I know what you’re working with,”

You feel your face flush red.

“Cute,” He teases.

“So,” You divert, “does Yeosang feel as strongly?”

His smile drops a little, “I mean,” he says, “I think so? But he’s not really an oversharer,”

“Have you told anyone else?” You try to be casual about that question, but if you’re being honest you’re dying to know where things will land with San and Seonghwa.

Wooyoung shakes his head though, “Not yet, but I think when everything calms down I might have him pick me up at the studio or something? I want you to meet him and I want everyone to know, I just,”

“I get it,” You assure him, “you go at your own pace.”

“Yeah,” He sighs.

“Just don’t follow my lead,” You smile, “if you like him, don’t run away in a panic,”

“Noted,” He laughs.

He looks so happy, bright from the inside in a way that matches his sunny scent, and you think he’s not far from sharing ‘I love you’s of his own at this rate.

You squeeze his hand again and catch his attention back, “You really look so happy,” you tell him.

“I am,” He sighs, “he’s exactly what I needed,”

You smile, and then push his legs to the side, “Move over, I know you have pictures, you’re holding out,”

He laughs sharply, head falling back but letting you manhandle him a little so you can snuggle into his side. Wooyoung tugs the blanket around you both and pulls out his phone, “Fine,”

“Like it’s a burden to show your best friend pictures of your hot new boyfriend,” You smack his chest, “come on,”

Wooyoung drops his arm around your shoulders until you’re slotted together on the corner of the couch, but he still hasn’t lit up his phone. You’re about to nudge him again, but then you feel him press a soft kiss to your hair.

“You know,” He says softly, “when Sannie called me and told me what happened, I just felt so sick,”

You find his other hand under the covers and lace your fingers together, “I’m okay,”

He nods, sighing into your skin, “I just want you to know,” he says, his voice a little tight, “you mean so much to me, and I’ll be grateful to them forever for stopping him,”

You blink back a few tears and nod, “I am okay, though,”

He nods again and clears his throat, “I know,”

“I think you’re avoiding my questions about Yeosang,” You squeeze his hand tightly, an acknowledgement of his emotions and his words, while steering the conversation back to happier topics.

“You’re right,” He laughs, “you caught me.”

“Come on,” You nudge him again, pushing down the little swell of emotion that his words brought up.

“He’s not really a selfie guy,” Wooyoung slides his finger across his phone screen until he finds Instagram and then navigates to his new man’s page, “but, I don’t know, I think you’ll like his vibe.”

Your face cracks into a wide smile when you see the profile, clearly that of an artist, a photographer. The first post on his page is of Wooyoung, though you’d have to know Wooyoung well to know it. He’s walking away from camera through a dark Itaewon street, the lines of his body accented by the neon club signs.

“Oh, Woo,” You relax against him and open that photo to see it larger, “he really likes you,”

He snatches the phone away, a little pink in his cheeks as he rushes to downplay the truth of what you can see plain as day, and you fight to get back the phone, your cheeks starting to hurt from how much you’ve been laughing.

You and Wooyoung stay like this for ages, warmly locked together as you swap stories and funny things on both your phones. By the time your phone chimes with another text from Mingi, at least two hours have gone by.

Almost home! His message reads.

Your chest feels warm, your heart whole at the words.

“They’ll be back in a minute,” You tell Wooyoung as you set your phone aside.

“Perfect,” He grins, “so exactly how much teasing can I get away with before you get mad?”

You fall apart again into laughter, happy tears stinging at your eyes. You don’t hear the front door open at first, but when you finally look up you see them standing frozen in the doorway with such softness in their expressions. You feel the words bubble up at the sight of them, but again they stay resting at the tip of your tongue.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and pushes off the couch, “Alright, alright stop making heart eyes at each other and tell me what’s in the box,”

Your eyes flick down to the large white box in Mingi’s hand, the perfect cheesecake nestled inside waiting just for you. Wooyoung takes a few grocery bags out of their hands and heads off to the kitchen, and just like that your night falls together naturally.

You don’t think about Minseok again until later that night. For a beautiful, blissful four hours you just laughed and ate and relaxed with your best friend and your boyfriends, and he doesn’t enter your brain at all.

It isn’t until you’re lying in bed alone with your thoughts, Yunho and Mingi deep asleep on either side of you, that you realize what you have to do.

In the morning you wake from a dreamless sleep, and you start to put your plan in motion. You slip out of bed and leave them to their rest, light only just stretching its way through the Seoul skies outside. Seeing Wooyoung made you feel lighter in a way that you can’t explain, and within minutes you’re scrawling out a note, stealing Mingi’s key, and lacing up your sneakers.

Out for a walk, be back in a little while, don’t worry too much x

You leave it on their kitchen counter and you hope it’s enough to keep them from looking for you. You need a little space from your own scared reflection in the mirror, and a new perspective on the plan you’ve been turning over since your head hit the pillows last night.

The note isn’t a lie, strictly speaking, you are out for a walk, but you also know if you told them exactly where you were on a walk to, they'd worry. They wouldn’t just worry, they would have insisted on coming with you, but this is something you have to do alone.

You take the long way to the hospital down the river path, letting the cool day calm your mind and keep you centered. You go over in your mind all the things you want to say to him when you see him, assuming you actually make it into his room. You wonder how hard it will be to convince him. You wonder if you’ll even be able to get a single word out of your mouth.

You have to try.

Yunho’s words from yesterday morning in the kitchen sink into you. The tenderness in his eyes when he mentioned how jumpy you’ve been around the apartment. You hadn’t even realized it, but now you feel it in your shoulders and your stomach with the sound of every opening door, every squeak of a shoe on vinyl flooring. Everytime you look up into a mirror you expect to see a face over your shoulder, to feel hands on your hips.

Minseok had taken so many little things from you in the span of three minutes.

You need to take something back.

Every step leading into the hospital is heart pounding and nerve wracking, stress inducing on a level you’ve never experienced, but standing in front of reception you suddenly feel an overwhelming calm. Your mind is clear, operating on something wholly unconscious and you don’t know where you’ve mustered this feeling from, but you let it take you.

You give over Minseok’s full name and provide the kindest smile you can to the woman behind the desk,“I’m his sister,” you tell her. The lie rolls right off your tongue, so clean and easy you surprise yourself.

“Oh,” The nurse nods, “well visiting hours don’t start until eleven,”

“I have work,” You counter, softening your face, “I’m sorry, but do you think you could make an exception? I’ll be very quick, I just want to see him for a few minutes before I have to run,”

She considers it, and you know you have her the minute she checks the nurse’s station to see who else is there with her before she breaks a rule, “Alright, but just be quick, five minutes,”

“Thank you so much,” You smile, “really, you’re so kind,”

She waves you off, glancing around her again, “He’s in 305, the third door down on your left when I open the doors,”

“Thank you,”

She presses a button on the wall and the lock springs free, opening the heavy security door to your side. With one last smile and deeply grateful bow, you slip through the door and make it through into the hospital hallway where you are most definitely not supposed to be.

Third door on the left.

You have to be quick, not so you don’t get caught, but so you don’t chicken out. If you stand in this hallway and let yourself really think about what you’re doing, you’ll turn right around and go home. Steeling yourself, you rush forwards and find the door to 305 and with a deep breath you slip inside.

Private rooms are expensive, that thought occurs to you as you shut the door tightly behind you. That fact, plus the reality that he’s already talking about pressing his own charges, tells you Seonghwa was right, he has some kind of family money. You hope that when you turn around and actually face the room you won’t have to contend with his mother or father or god forbid some girlfriend you know nothing about. You need him to be alone.

Blissfully, the room is quiet, the only sounds are medical and simple. With your palms flat against the door you take a deep breath, and if Minseok is awake he says nothing, makes no sound, while you gather the nerve to do this.

Finally, you turn.

He is awake, studying you with a careful expression, but then your eyes flick over him. He’s more than injured, he’s completely incapacitated. You catalog it all quickly - his leg suspended in an elevating sling, ankle wrapped up tight, wrist sprained and in a brace, his face is bruised and battered and you realize in seconds that his broken jaw is wired shut. He has an oxygen cannula tucked into his bandaged nose, and you remember that his ribs are broken too.

You wonder which of your boys delivered each piece of punishment.

Your mouth feels dry, and your pulse is quickening, the sight of him so close is enough to induce panic but he can’t really do anything to you in this state so you have to just be brave. You push yourself off the wall and walk to the end of his hospital bed, “Hey,”

He gestures to his jaw and shrugs to communicate that he can’t really talk.

“I know,” You nod, “I heard.”

It’s strange to be here with him like this when last week you were working side by side. It’s bizarre to suddenly feel this bubble of uncomfortable space and distance, and to feel the fear underneath it all.

He gestures towards you with his bandaged hand and you know he’s asking why you’re here.

“I heard about the counter charges,” You came here with a purpose and you have to stick to it, “and I came here to ask you to drop them.”

He shakes his head and looks down at himself and then back up to you.

“After what you did?” Anger curls up in your belly, “I think they took it pretty easy on you.”

He huffs, a puff of air from his closed lips.

“Listen,” You try, “you and I both know what you tried to do, and whatever your excuse is, it doesn’t matter. If they hadn’t gotten you off me… I guess what I’m saying is do the right thing now. You said you were sorry, just drop these charges and we can all move on.”

His eyes harden and he shakes his head.

You thought he was apologetic after, coming to his senses and realizing in the haze of his rut he almost broke someone’s mind, but now you’re starting to think he was just pleading for his own beating to stop.

“You won’t consider it?” You ask, stomach clenching tightly.

He shakes his head again and points to his injuries. Jaw, ribs, leg.

You want to hit him yourself, so suddenly that your fingers curl tight into fists, “You tried to fucking claim me because I wouldn’t go out on a date with you, and you think you’re the victim here?”

He seems irritated by your question, and he reaches for something on the tray table to his side. He pulls up a small whiteboard and marker, clearly given to him by hospital staff to communicate, and he wipes away the words that were there to write out his message to you.

I’m the one in a hospital bed.

“You bastard,” The words just slip out, “why do you think? They put you here for a fucking reason, Minseok,”

He wipes the message away and writes something else.

Keep your alphas on a leash.

You’ve never understood the phrase ‘seeing red’ before, but now it’s meaning is crystal clear, “You should keep yourself on a leash.”

He huffs.

“Using tone to submit an omega is illegal, Minseok,” You round the corner of the bed, “the prison time for something like that is long. It’s not even just assault, I think that’s something like three or four years? But using tone… claiming against an omega’s will? That’s irreparable damage. I wonder how many charges they’d stack on top in court? Psychological trauma? Sexual assault?”

His eyes darken and he wipes the board again, his marker squeaking roughly against it as he angrily writes out the next message.

I never touched you like that.

“You would have,” You shake your head, “as soon as I was your nice obedient omega and couldn’t say no.”

He stares daggers, but says nothing.

“They might be able to prove intent,” You tell him, “throw a few more years on top for good measure. How old do you think you’ll be when they let you out? Do you think a dance studio would hire a forty year old man?”

His face pales, he looks sick suddenly.

“You’ll drop the charges,” You tell him, “and when you do, I’ll drop mine.”

His eyes widen.

“You’ll never set foot in the studio again, and you’ll go find another job somewhere else.”

His eyes skim over you, trying to gauge your honesty.

“Do you understand me?” You don’t know what’s possessing you, what’s holding you up so you can get these words out, but you’ve never felt more sure.

He says nothing.

You lean in closer, close enough that if he was uninjured he could easily have you back in control, but with his jaw wired shut and his lack of mobility, he can’t do a thing. Nerves flutter up your body as you lean in, and you’re sure he can smell Yunho and Mingi on you, but the guarantee that he can’t touch you is filling you with a sick sense of power, of sure joy.

“You tried and you failed,” You tell him, and he huffs, “and that’s on you.”

His cheek twitches and you’re sure he’d be clenching his jaw if he could do it without exceptional pain.

“You’ll do this for me, you owe me,” You hold his gaze despite the flutter of fear it brings you, “and if you don’t, I don’t care what it takes. I’ll see you in court and if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure that you never, ever get hired again. Every studio in Korea will know what you did, and every omega in Seoul will know what you really are, and if you ever get close to me again after today I’ll break your jaw myself.”

His eyes flick down.

“Do you understand me?” You repeat, enunciating clearly.

He nods once.

“Good,” You push back from him and get some distance, “get the charges against all of them dropped by tomorrow and I’ll call and withdraw mine. Don’t ever come back to the studio, if you left stuff there consider it gone.”

He holds your gaze, and then he writes out a question - How do I know you’ll keep your word?

“You don’t,” You shrug, “but I promise you I wouldn’t be here in this room with you at all if I wasn’t willing to drop them.”

He turns your words over.

“Minseok,” You sigh, “they mean more to me than watching you go to jail, please, just do the right thing.”

He wipes his hand again across the whiteboard and then he shifts, looking back up to you to nod in agreement.

“You’ll do it?”

He nods again and then picks the marker back up to write something.

“Don’t,” You stop him, “there’s nothing you can say I want to hear. Just do this and we’ll be done.”

He looks away and without meeting your eyes again, he nods.

“Don’t make me come back,” You press him, but he doesn’t respond and that will have to be enough. You’ve done what you came to do.

You’re out of his room in a flash, back through the security doors and quick past the front desk. You don’t spare a single glance at the nurse who broke the rules for you, you just need to get out of here before you let the reality of what you’ve done hit you sideways. You don’t let a single thing consume you until you’re out of the hospital and on the street again, and you sink down onto the first available bench.

Your heart is pounding, hands trembling. You need to get this under control before you go home because the last thing you want is to cause Yunho and Mingi anymore stress or heartache. You give yourself some time to come back into your body, to forget the hard set of Minseok’s eyes and the way his fingers twitched when you got too close, the way you fought the curling panic in your gut to get the words out.

When you do feel whole again, you order a taxi back. You’ve been gone a while, probably a little longer than they expected, and you hope they’re not worried.

Using Mingi’s borrowed key, you slip into the apartment and let their scents wash over you, soothing you instantly. You shut the door quietly behind you and toe off your shoes before calling out, “Is anyone home?”

You hear movement immediately, Mingi from the kitchen and Yunho from his bedroom and it fills you with warmth.

“Hey,” Mingi gets to the living room first, “how was your walk?”

“Really good,” You tell him, and that’s the truth. The walk itself was nice until you cut it short with your little errand.

“You look good,” He smiles, and Yunho appears from his side of the apartment as Mingi continues, “fresher,”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “it’s a beautiful morning out,”

“Hey,” Yunho says, smiling at the sight of you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” You say, “I just wanted to clear my head a bit, so I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your key,”

Mingi shakes his head as you hang his keyring up by the door.

“We’ll have to get one made for you,” Yunho says, “if you want,”

You let the implication of that lie and you nod, but excitement sparks in your belly.

“Is there any coffee?” You ask, moving into the apartment and heading towards the kitchen. You need to tell them where you’ve been, but you just need a breath before you can.

“Mhm,” Mingi says, “I just made a cup,”

“Oh,” You shake your head, “I don’t want to take yours, I’ll make my own.”

“No, no,” He slides behind you and presses a kiss to your hair as he does, “take it, I’ll make another. Yunho, do you want one?”

“I’m good,” He replies, coming to stand next to you at the small kitchen island.

Mingi looks like he’s thinking about something as he finishes off your cup of coffee and throws an electric kettle back on to make another pourover, but Yunho draws your attention away.

“Jagi,” He starts, “I don’t mean to… well, can we talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” You angle towards him, his words making you a little nervous, “is everything okay?”

“Absolutely,” He assures you, brushing his hand down the length of your arm, “but Mingi and I were talking while you were gone, about how to handle everything with these charges,”

“Oh,” His timing is impeccable.

“We just want to include you,” He says, squeezing your hand, “and make sure we’re handling things the way we should, but it might be smart to try and hire a lawyer before this goes any further,”

You’re not sure how you’re supposed to say this.

“We talked to Seonghwa and he agrees,” Yunho continues, “this will be the easiest way to protect all of us,”

“Yunho,” You start, “hang on,”

“If this is upsetting we can talk about it later,” Yunho adds, “but Seonghwa has some connections through his parents, he wants to make some calls.”

Your stomach twists at the idea of Seonghwa needing to lean on a favor from his parents, and every choice you made that morning becomes perfectly validated with just that thought. You would never, ever let him do that, not after everything he’s done for you.

“It’s not upsetting,” You assure Yunho, trying to interject, “I just don’t think that will be necessary,”

“Getting a lawyer?” He clarifies.

“Yeah,” You swallow hard and glance at Mingi, “I don’t think we’ll need to.”

“I mean, having representation would be best,” Yunho says, “I know it’s stressful, but we need to be careful,”

“Right,” You sigh, needing him to give you a breath to explain, “that’s if there’s a suit,”

“Well sure, but,” Yunho starts but the penny drops for Mingi.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Mingi turns to you fully and the words die on Yunho’s lips as he plays catch up.

You stay quiet, holding his gaze, but when you let out a soft breath he sets his coffee back down.

“y/n,” Mingi says, voice serious and leaving Yunho visibly more and more confused, “tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

“I took care of it,” You settle on the most neutral words you can.

“No,” He shakes his head, “you can’t just say that, you have to give us more than that.”

“I was planning on it,” You push past Yunho to approach Mingi, resting your hands on his upper arms as you get closer into his space, “I swear, you just guessed it too fast,”

“You smell like the hospital,” He explains, his nose crinkled up.

“Whoa, whoa,” Yunho finally catches up, “why were you at the hospital?”

You just have to say it, “I talked to Minseok,”

“Absolutely not,” Yunho pushes around the island and closer to you, “are you insane?”

“He’s completely incapacitated,” You tell them both, “he couldn’t have touched me even if he wanted to,”

“Yes, but you didn’t know that!” Yunho presses, his voice running high in surprise, but you can see he’s doing his best to keep level and cool.

“Look at me,” You settle him, “do I look hurt? Upset?”

“No,” He admits with a puff of dejected air.

“Am I myself?” You take both their hands in yours.

“Yes,” Mingi admits.

“Okay,” You sigh, “now stop freaking out and listen to me, because I promise you I’m perfectly fine,”

Mingi nods once, and Yunho stays silent, which is enough for you to do what you need to do.

“I went there to talk him out of the charges he’s filing,” You explain, “and I guess… I just wanted to understand what he did, so I wanted to talk to him.”

“And?” Yunho prompts.

“He’s an asshole,” You start.

“Did he touch you?” Mingi asks, his voice a little tight and thready, “Say anything to you?”

“No,” You promise, tugging him closer until his hands are properly on you, “come here,”

“You can tell us if he did,” Yunho’s fingertips stroke a gentle pattern over the back of your neck, “we’re not angry, we just want to help,”

“Speak for yourself, I still want to kill him,” Mingi says sharply.

“Hey,” Yunho nudges him, “chill,”

“Both of you relax,” You interject and they fall silent, “he didn’t do anything, he couldn’t even talk, his jaw is fully wired shut,”

Yunho huffs a laugh, “Good,”

You smile, “Honestly, he looked pretty pathetic,”

“He is pretty pathetic,” Mingi points out.

“Right,” You sigh, “well, aside from some choice words written out on a whiteboard, he didn’t have much to say or do. I explained that if he didn’t drop his charges things would be much worse for him in the long run… and he saw reason.”

“He agreed to that?” Mingi’s eyes go wide.

“Mhm,”

“Why?” Yunho’s brows draw together, “Not out of the goodness of his heart, I assume,”

“No,” You shake your head, “but when I tell you, I need you both to promise me you won’t be angry.”

“That’s unfair,” Yunho says.

“Just say it,” Mingi nods, “we won’t know until we know.”

You chew the inside of your lip as you search for the right way to say this, and you know they’ll be upset no matter what, but they deserve honesty. You nod, “I agreed to drop my charges if he drops his,”

They’re silent, deathly silent.

“y/n,” Yunho swallows tightly as he gets his voice even, “why would you do that?”

“He didn’t want to listen to me at first,” You explain, “and I thought it through on the walk. That’s the only piece of leverage we have right now,”

“But he did something wrong, he should be held accountable,” Mingi exclaims, taking a full step away from you and running a hand through his hair.

“You heard the questions the police asked me,” You interject, “how close was I to my next heat? Did I know Minseok was in pre-rut? Why did I stay in the room if he was making me uncomfortable? What was I wearing?”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Yunho insists, “he used tone, that’s fucking illegal,”

“I said he used tone,” You counter quietly, “but he’ll say he didn’t and he’ll say I got confused or misunderstood. He’ll use our relationship against you both, and my relationship with Seonghwa to paint… a very particular kind of picture about me. We all know what he did but I’m telling you, legally? We’re on the losing side,”

“But,” Mingi shakes his head, “that’s…”

“I know,” You nod, “believe me, I know.”

“You should have taken us with you,” Yunho says quietly, “we could have talked to him for you,”

You shake your head, “No,” you need them to understand, “you got to hit him… you got to do something, I didn’t get to do anything but be fucking scared,”

His expression softens, “Oh,”

“You protected me when I needed you,” You feel tears welling up now at the thought of it, “it’s my turn to protect you,”

They’re so quiet, watching you carefully.

“Nothing is taking you away from me again,” You say it, plain and clear, “nothing is taking away you or my friends, I won’t let that happen,”

Mingi’s arms fold around you fast as he tucks you into his chest and you feel Yunho step close too, laying a warm palm on your back as he leans into you both.

“Whatever you want, we’ll do it,” Mingi murmurs, “okay?”

You nod, closing your eyes as you snuggle into the warmth of him.

“And we’ll handle it together,” Yunho says, “but don’t make this decision for us, make it for you. We,” Yunho’s voice trails, but then he clears his throat and says what he wants to say anyways, “we love you. No matter what happens,”

“I know,” You sigh, snaking an arm out of Mingi’s hold to find Yunho’s hand and tuck him a little closer too, “but I’m sure,”

“I hate to state the obvious here,” Mingi pulls back from you so he can look at you both, “but if he’s not charged with anything, then he’s a free man.”

That thought does make your stomach flip, but you knew that when you walked into the hospital room, “I know,”

“It’s your choice,” Mingi reiterates, “but I still don’t know if I’m comfortable taking that kind of risk with you.”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Yunho says, his hands finding your shoulders as he tucks closer behind you.

The image of Minseok’s face when you asked about his dance career flickers through your mind and you smile, “I think he got the picture,”

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is hesitant.

“I told him in no uncertain terms,” You can’t get the smile off your face now, “that if he came anywhere near me again I’d break his jaw myself.”

“You didn’t,” Yunho looks down to see your face.

“I did,” You nod, “and before you freak out again, please remember that I’m here and totally fine in front of you,”

Mingi gives you a truly withering look but lets you speak.

“Honestly,” You breathe, “you should have seen him, he was lying there and could barely move, and when he didn’t want to drop the charges at first, I kind of got in his face,”

Yunho’s hands tighten on your shoulders and Mingi scrubs a hand over his face, “Don’t tell me that,”

“But I did,” You press your palms flat against Mingi’s chest, “I told him that if he didn’t drop his charges he would never get rid of me, I told him I’d make his life hell, and he couldn’t even move. He couldn’t touch me,”

Mingi’s quiet, his eyes flicking up to Yunho behind you. Yunho sighs, dropping his forehead to rest against your hair and then his arms relax, wrapping around you from behind.

“I really hate this story,” Yunho says, “but I’m also really proud of you,”

“Me too,” Mingi’s hand closes over both of yours to give you a squeeze.

“I just wish you had told us,” Yunho admits.

“If I had told you I was going there you would have never let me go alone,” You point out.

“Exactly,” Yunho’s arms tighten.

You turn your head to press your lips to his arm where it wraps around your shoulder, and you nuzzle a little into his warm skin, “You know why I had to go though, right? You get it?”

He nods against your head.

Mingi smooths his hand up and down your forearm, “We do,”

“I just hate the thought of him seeing you again,” Yunho admits, lifting his head and readjusting you in his arms, “or being close to you at all,”

“I know,” You lean back into his embrace, “but this is the thing, he got to see me be fine after what he did,”

“And you got to see him,” Mingi puts two and two together with ease and nods, “and he looked pathetic?”

“More than that,” You smile, “he looked… afraid.”

“Good,” Mingi says firmly.

You remember the way he looked in that hospital bed, his eyes darting around the room. He shrank back when you got close, no doubt the scent of Yunho and Mingi lingering on your skin, and you smile up at them at the thought, “He was terrified my alphas were with me,”

Yunho’s lips quirk and he leans around you to meet your eyes, “He wasn’t afraid of us, sweetheart, he was afraid of you.”

“No,” You laugh that off, but they don’t join in and Mingi makes a funny expression at your words.

Yunho slides away, shoulder to shoulder with Mingi now as he looks down at you, “Yes, y/n,” he shakes his head, “he was vulnerable and alone and stuck in a hospital bed, and you’re…”

“A powerful fucking omega,” Mingi supplies.

Yunho nods, “And he knows that you could ruin the rest of his life.”

You don’t know what to say.

“y/n,” Mingi sighs, tugging you in until your bodies are close together, “if you ever do something that reckless again, I’ll lose my mind,”

You move to lift your head and push back, to keep trying to get him to understand why this was so important for you to do alone and why you made the choices you made, but he stops you short.

“But,” He adds, kissing the top of your head, “it was also very brave, and I love you for it.”

“Yeah?” You nudge him.

“Yeah,” He admits.

“I do wish I could have seen it,” Yunho grins, “that asshole scared of you,”

Mingi’s hands slide to your hips, tightening their grip and he swallows hard, “Our fierce little omega,”

A ripple of something needy and unexpected passes through your belly, “Is that what I am?”

Yunho steps closer, finding a home for his hands on your body too, “You called us your alphas,” he says softly, “isn’t that what we are?”

Mingi’s thumbs brush a warm steady pattern into your hips and you feel yourself melting into their hands, “Yes,”

“That makes you our omega, sweetheart,” Yunho eyes flick from yours to your lips.

The way they say omega to you doesn’t sound cold. It doesn’t sound cruel or commanding, no undertone of ownership despite the content of their words. When they say it all you hear is love.

“Say that again,” You murmur softly.

Mingi smiles, lifting his eyes to watch you.

Yunho dips closer, his lips dangerously close, “Our omega?”

You nod a little, heat flushing your cheeks.

“Our omega,” He repeats, pressing his lips to yours. He waits to make sure you want it, he waits to feel you twist in their arms and reach up for him, and then he lets his body follow his thoughts, lips opening and his tongue dipping into your mouth.

Mingi’s hand shifts, spreading wide over your lower belly, his fingertips at the waistband of your pants. You’re not ready for that, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you twitched in his hands when he first adjusted his grip, but either way he makes no move to take anything further. Neither of them do. Despite Yunho’s lips on yours, and the breath between you both, his hands stay put on your back and your cheek while Mingi just holds you, patient and soft at your side.

When your lips break from Yunho, settling back down your heels after pushing up on tiptoe, Mingi uses his grip on you to spin you to face him, his mouth finding yours with ease.

You hum pleasantly against his mouth, your hands gripping his broad shoulders for balance.

“Ours,” Mingi murmurs between kisses, and then his hands spread to your backside, maneuvering you up into his arms in one quick motion, “you’re ours,”

You wrap your legs around his middle and sink into the kiss, “I’m yours,”

“Fuck, I missed you,” He mumbles between kisses, nuzzling your cheek with his nose.

You nod against him, stealing one more kiss before you lean back, still perched comfortably with your legs around his waist. You smooth a hand over Mingi’s cheek and then reach for your other lover to bring him close, drawing him in by the hand until he’s nestled against both of your sides. Yunho’s hand reaches around to cup under your thigh and you settle your own hand on the back of Yunho’s neck, fingers stroking the shaggy bottom of his dark hair.

“This is nice,” Mingi smiles a little, eyes flicking between you and Yunho.

Yunho nods, his free hand settling on Mingi’s back.

“I can’t believe I convinced myself that we weren’t scent sympathetic,” You sigh a small, unfunny laugh, “this just feels so right,”

“Knowing it and knowing it are two different things,” Mingi says, emphasizing the word.

“I guess so,”

“And it’s not like all scent matches work out,” Yunho adds, “we still have to work at it,”

You nod, relaxing into their hold, “I want that,”

“We do too,” Mingi squeezes your thigh a little with his wide hand.

It’s funny how different it all feels now than months ago during your first panicked heat here, how settled you are with everything. You glance between them and ask the obvious, “When we go back to work, what are we this time?”

“Pack,” Mingi says easily and your head snaps to his, eyebrows high.

“Mingi,” You blink at him, surprised at his easy reference to such a permanent state of being. Scent matches and compatibility is one thing, but pack is something so much more. All of it flickers in your mind - claims, bonds, tying you together permanently.

“Someday,” Yunho interjects smoothly, giving you a soft, reassuring kiss to the head, “far in the future, if you’ll have us.”

“Someday,” The word slips out of you like an agreement, and despite all the fears shared with Wooyoung earlier, you do want them like that. You want to someday be able to give each other that.

“Then we’re pack,” Mingi lights up at your words, “officially, unofficially, I don’t care. You’re with us, we’re with you.”

Your body fills with warmth, but you can feel your heart rate picking up.

Yunho smiles, “What did they used to call that back in the day?”

“Courting,” You fill in the blank for him, and the word feels strangely old fashioned considering the fact that you’ve already spent a heat with them. When packs were more common, groups of alphas would court compatible omegas until it was sure they were a good match in more ways than just scent. The implication then was something more akin to a modern engagement and you can’t believe after everything you’ve been through with these two men, this is the conversation you’re having suddenly so casually in their kitchen.

“Well,” Yunho laughs, “we don’t have to call it that,”

“We’re,” You trail off, trying to find the words, “dating?”

“Partners?” Yunho offers a slightly less casual word.

“Together,” Mingi cuts in, “that’s what we are. We’re your alphas, we belong to you, and you,” he draws you closer in his arms to press a soft kiss on your lips, “are our omega.”

“And at work?” You trail off.

“We’ll be ourselves,” Yunho suggests, “people probably already know after last week anyways,”

Mingi nods, dipping forward and pressing a kiss to your lips, “No more pretending we don’t mean something to each other,”

“No more pretending,” You shift in his arms, wrapping your arms properly around his shoulders so that you’re hugging each other tightly.

Mingi hums appreciatively, his breath warm against your hair and then he chuckles a little as he readjusts you in his arms, “Is it too fast if I start calling you yeobo, though? I feel like it suits you,”

You pull back from the hug, “We’re not married, Mingi,” you remind him, “and I didn’t hear a proposal,”

“You want to get proposed to, baby?” He teases and you shove his chest.

“Knock it off,” Yunho smacks the back of Mingi’s head, “our relationship doesn’t have to break the sound barrier,”

“I’m kidding,” Mingi squeezes you, shifting to take a few steps and deposit you on the kitchen counter before stepping back with a quick peck on your lips.

“Hmm,” Yunho rolls his eyes and slumps back against the counter next to you, one wide hand smoothing over your thigh, “we just got you back, I’d like to avoid scaring you off,”

“I’m not scared,” You shake your head, and as you say it, you realize it’s true. Six months ago you would have balked at Mingi’s veiled promise of his intentions, you would have told them all their hormones were mixed up and confused. You would have told yourself the same. It feels strange to feel completely at peace with the idea of a real someday with them.

Yunho’s eyebrow quirks up in a question at your words and Mingi grins, a little self satisfied.

“Actually,” You exhale heavily and straighten up, “I talked to Wooyoung yesterday and he helped me figure some things out,”

“Things?” Mingi asks.

“Um,” Your pounds in your chest, “yeah,”

Yunho gives you an encouraging squeeze to keep going.

You meet his eyes and take the leap, “Can you make that call? For me to talk with someone?”

He softens and nods, “I’ll do it first thing,”

“Okay,” You say, taking another deep breath, “then there’s one more thing to tell you,”

Mingi doesn’t say anything, but he steps back closer to you, resting his hand on your opposite thigh.

“It’s my turn to ask you to be patient,” You give them both an anxious, close lipped smile.

“We’re listening,” Mingi soothes you.

“Okay,” You take both their hands in yours, “here goes. The idea of bonding with you both is kind of sending me into a tailspin right now, and I’m terrified that it’s something I’m never going to get over. Wooyoung told me to talk to someone to work through that and I want to. I thought about it all day, and the truth is that I want to be with you both for as long as you’ll have me. You feel like you’re mine, now more than ever, and I’m scared, but I’m also scared of not trying,”

“And if I can be yours like this for now,” You continue, “without bonds like you said, pack even if it’s unofficial, then maybe I can work through this and make it official someday. I’m just scared your definition of ‘far in the future’ and my definition are different though, and I,”

“Fuck bonds,” Mingi interrupts, moving to cup both your cheeks and draw your eyes to his, “that shit doesn’t matter to me at all. We’re together by choice, not by claim. If you want my bite someday, I’ll give it to you, but you won’t ever hear me ask, alright? Never.”

“Me too,” Yunho’s hand brushes down your hair, coming to rest on the back of your neck, “as far as I’m concerned it’s secondary, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’d sooner leave you than push you into a bond you aren’t ready for,”

You jolt forwards, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and nearly slipping off the counter when you do, but they hold you steady as you pull them in.

“We just want you,” Mingi’s rough, low voice murmurs, “just this.”

You feel their warmth, the steady thrum of each of their heartbeats, their scents curling around you like a safe, easy memory. The words find themselves right on the tip of your tongue again, only this time, this time they come.

“I love you,” You take in a sharp, emotional breath as you get yourself together, overwhelmed by their words, “I love you both so much,”

Yunho dips back to find your mouth, locking his lips on yours and sighing a breath of true relief against your mouth, “I love you too, sweetheart,”

Mingi redirects your gaze with his fingers on your jaw the moment Yunho starts to lean back and he kisses you hard, leaving you gripping his shirt for balance, “I love you,”

“God,” You smile, every part of your body alight with joy, “I think we might be crazy, but I don’t care,”

“Good,” Yunho glances between you both, “because I think I’m having a crazy idea,”

“What idea?”

“Move in,” He blurts out, and he can’t stop smiling, “fuck giving you a key, fuck calling you our girlfriend. Move in properly, be ours. If we’re together, let’s be together, we’ve lost enough time,”

“Who’s moving fast now?” Mingi says, but he’s smiling too.

Everything in your body feels right, feels safe. You’ve been calling this home for days, and you’ve been calling them yours in your head for so much longer.

You’re nodding before your mouth can catch up with your brain, “Okay, okay, yes, let’s do it,”

Yunho pulls you up into his arms and holds you close, peppering kisses across your temple, “We’ll figure everything else out later, but at least we’ll be together,”

“Thank God,” You melt into his embrace, meeting Mingi’s eyes over Yunho’s shoulder, “because I really didn’t want to leave,”

“No leaving this time,” Mingi smiles softly as Yunho nods his head against yours.

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head, agreeing with his words.

“We’ll get everything from your place as soon as we can, make it official,” Mingi adds.

You nod, and then a thought occurs to you, “Is there even enough room for me here?”

Yunho unwraps himself from around you and nods, “We’ll need a bigger bed,”

“For a start,” Mingi nods, “and you need a nest,”

“Yeah?” Your very own nest, a real one.

“Oh, babe,” Mingi finds your hand, tugging you in, “you’re about to get fucking spoiled, anything you want, we’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to, I just want to be here,” You tell them.

“Doesn’t matter,” Yunho says, “we’ve waited for you for so long,”

“Too long,” Mingi wraps his arms around you both, “way too long,”

It doesn’t matter anymore what pushed you into their arms, what kind of day you’ve had, everything you’ve had to get through. Not a thing in the world matters but this choice, the safe home of their arms, three of you against the world like it was always meant to be.

#this night together fic #honeyhotteoks fics #honeyhotteoks updates #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez series #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #mingi fic #mingi ff #yungi fic #yungi ff #yungi series

490 notes · View notes

beepboopkek · 4 months

Text

— Practice makes perfect (F!Reader)

Including: Dr.Ratio x AFAB!Reader amab version has been posted! cw: !! NSFW !!, afab!reader, established relationship, pwp but barely, you call him veritas, cl1t slapp1ng, 0rga$m d3n1al, c0ckwarm1ng, dr is kinda mean, light degradation , kind of left at a cliffhanger?? idk, a little short, reader is doing math w/c: 1.2k a/n: HELLO IM BACK WITH ANOTHER DRABBLE first time writing for someone other than Jing Yuan so sorry if its not that good ue ue ue im still learning </3 anywyas i somehow got to a 100 followers which is both exciting and concerning but yeag hope u guys like this :3 <3 NSFW BELOW THE CUT

“This simply won't do.”

Your boyfriend huffed in annoyance as your shaking hands continued to—(or well, at least tried to)— do the calculations for the question that shined brightly on the tablet resting on the table.

You couldn't decide whether to be mad at him or yourself for the predicament you were in currently.

— Sat prettily on his lap, your feet barely touching the ground and his cock snugly kept to the hilt within the confines of your pussy.

You exhaled shakily, your body shuddering as his fingers that were previously stimulating your clit were now simply resting atop it.

“Another mistake. How disappointing, I excused the last one but, you really are testing my limits now.”

His head was over your shoulder as he tutted and eyed the screen, watching every move you made and deducing what was correct and what was not.

“Maybe, if you'd let me focus I could—”

– and suddenly, he raised his hand and landed a quick slap right on your clit.

Your body jerked in response as your words got cut off with a gasp.

The doctor's hand came back to rest on your clit, tapping it gently to soothe the pain from the slap. His other hand that was wrapped around your waist gripped you tightly as he leaned forward, pushing his cock at a deeper angle.

“If I hear another one of your remarks, things won't end well for you. Now, focus.”

You exhaled loudly in frustration as you forced your attention back onto the question, lifting the pen and continuing your calculations.

The both of you had been together for several years now, graduating from The University of Veritas Prime together— Your intellect was almost on par with his.

However, what you were doing now, though, was quite… questionable.

See, unlike him, you preferred the simpler life of teaching at a university. Getting into a guild or something of that sort had never really interested you. But, your boyfriend being… Well, The Veritas Ratio— he had his ways of convincing you to at least work on your mathematical skills to improve further the chances of you getting invited to the Intelligentsia Guild from the IPC.

So, he offered a simple solution.

Tutoring. One-on-one, of course.

… Which snapped you back to the current situation- you were dripping onto the chair on which the two of you were seated. The hard planes of his torso snug against your back.

“Another mistake.” His voice was low in your ear and you could almost feel the annoyance dripping from those words alone.

Fuck. You hadn't even registered what you were writing, your brain growing increasingly fuzzy with the way his cock pressed into all your sensitive spots.

He placed another slap on your clit, your body jerking in response as your pussy clenched around his cock.

“Start counting, Let's see how long you can keep up, hm?”

“V—Veritas, do I really have to do t—”

Your body jerked as he landed another slap to your already tender clit.

“Address me properly.”

“Fuck— I'm sorry–”

You swallowed down your complaints, knowing it would result in only more punishment if you continued.

“That— that was three.”

Veritas smiled against your shoulder before pressing your hips into his and moving you just a little bit… but nowhere near enough. He kissed the shell of your heated ear,

“That's my girl, I knew you could do it.”

You moaned lightly as he drew circles on your frayed clit before giving it a gentle pinch and then taking away the stimulation altogether— Your heated body simmering down into a somewhat uncomfortable yet pleasurable state.

“Come on now, let's continue. You still have the whole test left.”

You nodded shakily as you lifted the long-forgotten pen and started writing on the tablet.

This was the fourteenth question, sixteen more to go.

You managed to distract yourself enough to finish the question, The only sounds in the room were the quick taps from your pen and the occasional embarrassingly loud squelching noise from you that came as a result of Veritas moving to get more comfortable. As you finished, you waited with bated breath in hopes that he would say something.

“Is it—is it correct?”

Your boyfriend smiled before uttering a yes and leaning his head forward to kiss your cheek gently.

“Not bad… five points. So, you can be good for me, hm?”

Before you could respond, he spoke up again, “Complete the fifteenth question correctly and I'll consider letting you have an orgasm. How does that sound?”

“Please—”

A small pinch to your clit.

“It was a rhetorical question. Continue.”

You nodded numbly as you willed every fiber in your brain to focus on the question.

Just as you were about to finish the last bit of the question you felt your boyfriend slowly beginning to massage your clit again, his lips attaching to your shoulder and neck— biting, kissing and licking as he pleased.

“Veritas— Aeons– Let me finish this, please.”

You realised your mistake a second too late, though.

Another slap, accompanied by a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you dropped the pen onto the table, your feet flexing as you processed the sudden mix of sensations that went through you.

“Count.”

Yep, you've just about crossed his limit.

“Four.”

You steadied your breathing again.

A few beats of silence pass by and you finally finish the fifteenth question. Your breathing picked up again as you awaited Veritas’ next move.

“Half an hour. That's how long you took to finish fifteen simple arithmetic questions.”

He did not sound happy.

Before you could defend yourself, He grabbed you by the waist and stood up, setting your upper body on the table as the digital tablet dissipated.

Your feet were off the ground at this angle, meaning that his strength was the only thing keeping you steady on the table.

Veritas pushed himself deeper inside you as you arched your back, draping his larger frame over yours as he leaned down to talk right next to your ear.

“What would people think, hm? An esteemed professor with seven doctoral degrees reduced to a slobbering mess because of me?”

You only whined in response, your brain had long turned into mush— unable to comprehend anything but him.

Neither you nor Veritas knew how you held on that long.

“Please— Sir– I did what you asked me to do.”

“I asked you to do 30 questions within half an hour. You managed only half of that.”

His voice was neither stern nor soft— just somewhere in between that you could only describe as– Veritas.

“I suppose, though, I did promise you that I'd consider granting you relief.”

Your face lit up at the thought of finally, finally getting your orgasm— The one that you had been denied for the past thirty minutes.

“Oh, such an adorable expression,”

He gathered both your hands and pinned them on your lower back, gripping them with one of his own. Veritas drew his hips back and thrust back in, moving you and the table ahead.

You moaned at the burst of pleasure, finally— “Tell me the answer to number sixteen.” Shallow thrusts that were just shy of where you were most sensitive. Asshole.You took deep breaths. “I don’t— fuck- know the question—” The digital tablet reappeared in front of you, the question glaring back at you as you whined pathetically. You felt the hand on your hip moving down to squeeze the swell of your ass. It was a warning.

Veritas planted his free hand into your hair and tugs, pulling your head back in a firm grip. “Answer me.”… Maybe accepting his offer wasn’t a good idea.

#dr ratio smut #dr ratio x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #afab reader #veritas ratio smut

749 notes · View notes

tojismain · 9 months

Text

toji x sick!reader synopsis. you have a migraine and mama bear toji takes over (I love him)

This was not an attractive position to be in. Not in any way you can think of. Face planted into the bed, body stiff and straight, Toji confused and worried.

With work piling on your desk and people speaking to you in different tones of aggressive, work had been more than exhausting. You made it home at 5pm, Toji still caught up in whatever he was doing. A migraine caught up to you faster than you could change out of your clothes, and so, with your blouse unbuttoned and your shoes taken off, you opted for taking away your senses, and shoving your face into the mattress.

Toji makes it home and is in the midst of loosening his collar as he walks into the bedroom, when his eyes are caught on your figure. Toji is not a stranger to you taking naps, he usually joins you. This time, something was clearly off.

"Sweetheart? You asleep?", he asks as he turns on the lamp on your bedside table. Although your face is mostly covered, the light makes it through the gaps— making you want to cry as the headache worsens. In a sloth-like movement, you use your hands to cover your face even more, hence, inciting the worry he's now certainly feeling.

He grimaces at your action and turns off the light, "headache?". Toji knows that the headaches you got every once in a while, were anything but desirable. He notices a slight movement of your head, which indicates a 'yes, toji, im currently dying, so please stop talking', which he's also familiar with.

He takes a seat next to your place on the bed and asks you to roll over slightly, mindful of his gruff voice. You do as he says and his hand —which dwarves over your own— is then placed on the back of your neck. You can feel his stillness as he calculates what's an okay temperature.

You see, Toji's mean, unbelievably so, cruel intentions and an even crueler smile. Not with you. Never with you. It's different, the way he looks at you, the way his eyes soften after coming home, his guard down, and his head light. But even then, he's still learning, what's okay, what's not, when you need him and when you're capable. Right now though, you needed him, desperately. It was either him, or feeling like someone was actively banging metal in your head.

So he decides that the heat coming off of your neck was not normal. He learns, for you. His scarred hand moves over to your forehead as your eyes are screwed shut. As his hand moves to lift off, you decide that's not good enough, so you grab his hand and lower it back on your forehead. It was warm, and surprisingly helping with the migraine.

"Baby, i'll be right back, okay?", he says worriedly. Unaware of why you're gripping his hand so gently against your skin.

You whimper shaking your head. "It hurts."

"Where does it hurt baby?", he seems relieved to hear you talk.

You drag his hand to the right side of your head. "Here", you whisper, sighing as his hand relieves some of the ache.

He brushes his thumb delicately over the same place.

"I'll get you some pain killers, it's definitely a migraine."

You shake your head once more, "just a second", you promise as you keep holding his hand against your head.

"Just a second", he vows with softening eyes. He uses his other hand to cup over your adjacent cheek, brushing your hair out of the way.

When Toji lets go, he leaves the room to grab painkillers, and unbeknownst to you, he also boils water for a heating pad, grabs a mug of steaming water— boiled with lemon and ginger, and he got a ton of water bottles. A ton. He would never admit that he definitely googled all of that.

When he's back, you're back to your position against your pillow, head sinked in, arms surrounding your face.

He places the tray with everything on your bedside table. You turn your head and spot the contents, you squint at him.

"Are you going to drown me?".

Toji chuckles and shushes you, "you need to stay hydrated", is his response

"Mmm", you hum in reply. A sharp pain then shoots behind your eye making you screw your eyes shut and you let out another whimper.

"Sweetheart?", Toji is careful not to touch you, knowing that now, it could make it worse.

The pain fades for a second, and you open your eyes as you feel tears prick in their corners.

"Hey, why are you crying?", Toji's eyebrows furrow in concern. His sentence more of a demand than a question. A pout visible on the creases of his lips.

You don't answer him, only looking for ways to stop the headache, it was excruciating, more so than usual. But you knew it would go away, especially with him here.

And so Toji uses his warm hands, warm tone, and light touch to lull you to sleep after taking the pills, knowing that it was the only way the painkillers were going to work best and how your migraine would go away.

As you're sleeping, Toji sits next to you on guard. It was almost as if everything disappeared, and your frame was the only thing visible in his sight. If anyone asked him, he would probably say you had a halo over your hurting head. To Toji, his senses almost heightened when you were sleeping, he didn't want you hurt, ever. He needed you safe and he hated seeing you vulnerable. His hand hovers over your head, caressing whenever he knew he couldn't wake you. He grabs a warmed cloth and puts it on your forehead, careful not to press too much weight onto your head.

For a big person, he was small in his gestures— soft, and willing.

An hour later, you feel a feather-like touch caressing your nose as you're waking up. Your eyes slowly blink open, looking up at Toji with a drowsy confused expression. He grins at your state, you look incredibly innocent this way.

"Sleeping beauty is up."

You smile in response, letting your eyes blink a few times to shake off the sleepiness. You then notice Toji's hand hovering over your face with...a makeup wipe?

"What're you doing?", you ask and his smile widens at your groggy voice.

"You fell asleep with your makeup on", is his only explanation.

You could possibly combust right now.

"Close your eyes."

—aurelia—

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x you #toji fluff #toji comfort #soft toji #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #sick!reader #jjk comfort #tojismain౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹#tojismain

926 notes · View notes

lotte-s-web · 3 months

Text

OH MY GOD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED UR ASK 🫧ANON IM SO SORRY BUT PLS I KNOW I SAW IT😭😭 ur so right though about hobie having a thing for loser nerds its augh

₊✩‧ ❝hobie x loser!reader❞ headcanons ✩‧₊

₊˚⭑ warnings: nsfw, gn!reader, teasing, penetrative sex

He’s such a sucker for loser nerds, such a sucker for you. He’s addicted to the way the simplest of things get you riled up so easily, how he can do so little and watch it affect you so much.

He loves flustering you, loves teasing you by interrupting your rambling and asking you to repeat yourself, leaning in closer to “hear ya bett'r.” He just finds it so cute when you stutter over yourself, losing your train of thought ‘cause of how close his face is to yours. he loves the way you have to grip at yourself to keep your composure from faltering. He knows he’s being mean, he knows he’s being an ass, but god, he can’t help it that you’re so pretty when you’re a bit embarrassed.

He loves touching you, loves knowing how it ignites an uncomfortable warmth at your core that you desperately try to ignore. It’s never a big gesture either, just an arm draped around your shoulder, his knees knocking against yours. he pretends he doesn’t notice how your breath hitches, how your thighs rub together as you try to carry on with the conversation without thinking of the way his skin was brushing against yours.

To both of your surprise, it’s you who makes the first move. It’d be a bold move on your part, but in reality, the teasing had just gotten too much for you to bear. you couldn’t go on like this anymore, your heart thumping wildly at having him brush against you lightly, having his breath tickle your ear whenever to confide in you what he thought of your outfit today. It was really the little things that had your chest feeling like it was about to burst, you couldn’t do it anymore.

He watches you stumble over yourself as you try to get out how you like him, wringing your hands together in an attempt to channel the panic thrumming through your mind. He’s patient, waiting for you to say what you need to say before taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to kiss you, sealing the deal before you can go back on your confession. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and you melt, making him smile as he slips his tongue past your eager lips.

Being with him doesn’t make him any less teasing though, if anything, it just makes him more intense. he’s meaner, more teasing, his hands growing more brazen in their attempts to rile you up.

He’ll rest his head on the junction of your neck and shoulders, murmuring in your ear about how good you look as his hands go to hold your waist. He’ll toy with your clothing when you’re out with your friends, pulling you against his side and continuing on with the conversation as you try to keep yourself from molding into his warmth. You both know he’s doing it on purpose, know he likes seeing you cave into him, and as much as you’d want to detest it, he knows you like it too. And he’s not above using it in the bedroom, not above taking advantage of the way you’re so willing to please him no matter how embarrassed you were about it.

He loves seeing your eyes when he’s fucking you, loves the way it’s in your most ruined state that he gets to see just how much you admired him, how much you worshipped him.

He holds your cheeks to keep your eyes on him when he’s fucking you in missionary, watching as they look up at him as if he had hung the stars in the sky. he almost laughs at you, close to calling your devotion pathetic.

He has you on your knees in front of a mirror as he gives you backshots, watching your face contort at each calculated thrust of his hips as his tip hits just right against your sweet spot. He holds your face up by the neck, applying just the right amount of pleasure to make you dizzy. He tells you to keep eye contact with him as he wrecks you.

You watch him in the mirror as he uses his free hand to pull your hips back against him with each thrust, your whines growing in volume. He has you absolutely cock-drunk, going cross-eyed and shuddering violently as you cum around him with a loud cry.

You catch your breath together once everything has subsided, his cock still sheathed within you as you both pant like dogs. He brushes his lips against your cheek and sighs, wrapping his arms around your torso.

“Ya’d do anythin’ f’me, wouldn’ ya?” He asks, turning your head with a gentle grip on your chin, moving you to face him. The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know, anything.

a/n: 🫧anon IM SO SORRY I DELETED UR ASK MY BADD AGHHGSHDSH HOPE U LIKED IT THO😭😭 ๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou

382 notes · View notes

tsuvvy · 4 months

Text

Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 1

Your Chance

The Batfamily is getting intel and weapons back from a dangerous villain. But he had a bodyguard. A child bodyguard who didn't really seem interested in their task of guarding the villain. You seemed more interested in killing Cassandra.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, talk of killing, talk of weapons, use of weapons, use of electricity in fighting, cussing, ik Jason and Damian are skilled and can adapt to many different types of fighters, but for the sake of this, they were caught extremely off guard..

Word Count: 3.1k

You looked down at your palms, letting the volts of electricity flicker and surge around your hands. You let out a breath.

This was your one chance. Your one chance to prove to your dad that you weren't a failure. You could kill. You could kill more efficiently and quickly than Cassandra ever could. And you could do it in cold blood, unlike Cassandra who was left disgusted with her first kill.

And you would prove it by killing her.

The moon was bright in the sky, just as the bat symbol was. You stared at it through the window with a kind of hope most didn't have. The hope that you would kill someone that answers to the bat symbol in the sky.

You struggled with speech. You grew up sheltered, only being taught to kill from the moment you were put on the ground to crawl. You were a lot alike to Cassandra. But you were a quick learner. You could quickly pick up on the speech of others, and the body language to decipher a little bit of what the words might mean in different situations.

The words you knew were a small amount that you couldn't get out of your mouth without a bit of struggle.

“No, that Cain guy sent this kid,” you glanced over your shoulder to look at the desk behind you where a man in a nice suit sat. He was lazing around in his chair, his legs kicked up on the desk as he looked at you. You remember your dad calling him Kerrim. Kerrim didn't realize you were looking back, “one creepy ass kid,” he added the remark onto his statement from before. “He said they're one of the best, but I won't buy it till I see it.” He smirked in doubtful amusement.

Orphan, Red Hood, and Robin worked diligently to avoid the cameras of the building and avoid guards that walked around.

Though it wasn't easy.

“I wasn't expecting the guard to be so high up..” Red Hood grumbled, peeking around the corner at a few guards that were speaking in the hallway.

“And what did you expect?” Robin grumbled back, looking up at the man, “That this guy was dumb? No. Someone can't make it this high up into the drug business by being dumb.” He sent a scowl at Red Hood from behind his domino mask.

“Aww, did you just call me smart?” Red Hood smirked from behind his helmet, looking down at Robin.

“Focus.” Orphan reminded the two, “We have to take the guards out, we can't get past them any other way..”

“On it.” Red Hood said.

“Wait-” Red Hood was already turning the corner, immediately alerting the guards to his presence.

“Huh.. Guess someone can get up the drug business by being dumb.” Robin remarked as he watched around the corner with Orphan.

“Intruder!” One of the guards had yelled into his walkie talkie clipped to the breast pocket of his vest. “Intruder in sector G!”

Red Hood was fighting with the other guard. Knocking him off of his feet by kicking under his legs and knocking him unconscious by kicking him in the head.

“Shit!” Red Hood yelled when alarms started going off and red lights started flashing everywhere.

Orphan and Robin looked to the camera above their head they had been in the blind spot of. It was now angled directly towards them.

‘What did you idiots do!?’ Tim yelled through the coms in their ears.

Red Hood had started fighting with the other guard, having a bit of trouble before Orphan rushed forward.

“‘You idiots?’ It was Red Hood!” Robin retorted back into the coms as he too moved around the corner.

Orphan had rushed past Red Hood and landed a flurry of well calculated hits and kicks to the guard. One of the kicks that sent him colliding into the wall knocked him out as well. He slid against the wall falling to the floor.

The three looked down the hall at the sounds of footsteps. Many of them.

“You are an imbecile. An imbecile!” Robin yelled at Red Hood before he turned around the corner again, already running down the hall before Red Hood and Orphan followed.

“Well sorry I was taking initiative!” Red Hood yelled at the kid in annoyance.

“In here!” Orphan called, beckoning the two into a room that looked to be for something like storage. It was big and barren enough to hear an echo.

“They went this way!” The three stopped in the middle of the room, turning to look at the door in anticipation when the guard had yelled that. They expected anyone to walk in at any moment. But they heard a group of bounding footsteps pass the door.

Your head whipped around at the flashing red lights and the alarms sounding throughout the whole building.

“Shit!” Kerrim screamed, jumping out of his seat in an instant, his hands on the desk. “How the hell did they get in without getting noticed!?”

You were practically already at the door. “Hey!” He screamed at you, “Where the hell are you going!!?” But you didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge you. “Get back here, you little rat!!” And you were out the door.

“Damnit!” Kerrim slammed his hands against the desk before whipping around and kicking his swivel chair, which went rolling. His kick barely did anything to the chair. “Cain said you were one of the best!” He yelled after you. Or.. More at the door you had just exited through. “But the best know how to follow orders!”

Kerrim started pacing around the room, grumbling and screaming frustrated curses that also held anxiety for the situation with intruders in the building.

All you could think about was the chance you had just gained. You knew it was her. Or at least someone from the accursed Batman vigilante group. But even if it wasn’t Cassandra. You could get her attention by killing another she cared for.

This is your chance

You have to take it while you have it.

You can't pass this up.

Despite not expecting to meet the intruders almost right outside Kerrim’s office, just down the wide hall. Neither looked to be Cassandra to your disappointment. But you recognized them to be Robin and Red Hood. People affiliated with her.

The three had taken a moment to regroup and catch their breaths before they had slipped out of the storage room door and listened to Tim’s directions to get to Kerrim's office.

Red Hood and Robin froze at the sight of you, but you had already unsheathed your sword with the swiftness and speed equivalent to that of a bird's. They weren't expecting a kid to come out of Kerrim’s office. Especially not a kid that looked to be the same age or younger than Robin.

“What the hell!!?” He screamed, just barely dodging the slashes of your swords. Robin had unsheathed his own sword, raising it and bringing it down to attack you. But you ricocheted the attack, blocking it and throwing the direction of his sword in another before you raised your leg, kicking him in the side and sending him colliding with a wall.

“Who in the hell is this kid!?” Red Hood shrieked, dodging slice after slice of your attacks. For a little kid, you were extremely strong, agile, and obviously professionally trained in fighting. Well enough to be able to have a chance at winning a fight with a grown man twice your size and a boy trained to be an assassin since birth.

‘Their fighting style's familiar..’ Tim muttered into the com. ‘Wait, where did Orphan go?’

You let the electricity conduct into the grip of the sword. It didn’t take too long for it to travel up into the blade, starting to wrap around it. Red Hood raised his gun up, having the intention to use it to block the slice of your sword. But he hadn't expected it to cut through. He felt a shock in his arm, and soon it went numb and tingly for a moment. The half of his gun he still held fell from his hand and collided to the ground.

He jumped back, staring at you from behind his helmet in shock.

The electricity in your sword had traveled into his gun and then his hand to produce the effect that it did.

“Red Hood, are you okay!?” He heard through the coms in his ears.

“Cassandra..” You spoke in a somewhat shaky and strained voice, like you were struggling to speak. “Where.. Is she?” Your voice, apart from the struggle it took to find the words, was somewhat muffled due to the cloth of the mask you wore over your mouth.

“What..?” Red Hood asked, confused. The struggle you had with your speech took him aback.

“Where..” You swallowed, “where is Cassandra.”

Red Hood was at a loss for words. He was confused on how a kid like you that appeared out of nowhere was so skilled with a sword and a power as adept as electricity. He knew children could be good fighters, Cassandra and Robin being prime examples. But you? Something was different about you. Your fighting style was familiar, just like Tim had noticed. But the other thing was.

“How do you know Cassandra?” Robin spoke coldly behind you. Yeah.. That was what Red Hood had been getting to.

You didn't respond, which caused Robin’s brows to furrow and his eyes to narrow on you behind his domino mask.

“Fine, I'll say it again. How do you know who Cassandra is?” His voice was more stern, growing a venom in it that could kill like a Cobra’s.

“Where is she?” Your voice still held that shake and struggle in it.

Something about you reminded Robin of someone. But he couldn't place his finger on who.

Neither of the two watching you noticed the way you were charging up a surge of electricity within your hand. Neither noticed it before you were throwing your arm out towards Robin, shooting it at him.

Robin was caught off guard. He hadn't been expecting you to be able to charge up your ability so quickly. He couldn't move quick enough to dodge it.

Just before it touched his middle, he was being tackled from the side. He looked up in surprise at Orphan.

She was already standing up, directing her attention to you.

“I’m right here,” She told you.

Your eyes widened somewhat, and you turned to look at her better. You couldn’t believe it. There she is. And not in some old picture or low quality one your father had managed to get someone to take. It was her in front of you in the flesh.

You’re taking your chance.

Red Hood lurched forward, thinking your attention was fully on Orphan. Though it wasn’t. You had made sure to keep both Robin and Red Hood in your peripheral vision. A surge of electricity started to travel through your arm before getting to your hand. The surging light seemed to wrap around your arm and now your hand as it traveled. Your palm collided with his stomach. Your touch seemed more gentle, but the powerful shock that seemed equivalent to a defibrillator shocked Red Hood’s insides. He stumbled backward.

His limbs felt numb, the room was spinning, he couldn’t focus and his whole body was in pain.

“Red Hood!” Robin and Cassandra cried, so did Tim within the coms. Red Hood stumbled a bit more.

Your attention was already back on Cassandra. You held your sword in both hands, rushing forward and slicing at the black haired vigilante. She moved quickly, you couldn’t deny it. Quicker than the first two did. Though you could tell you had only caught Robin off guard, you knew he could fight better. But that didn’t matter. Now Cassandra is here. Now she is your priority.

Again, she was quick. She dodged your countless attacks you threw at her with your sword. Robin had gone to Red Hood’s side, checking his pulse.

You swung your sword, but Cassandra slipped under it and rushed forward. Your eyes widened as you saw her hand was going for a pressure point in your wrist, crap. No.. It’s okay. You’re fine. You were trained just like her, if not better. And you have an advantage.

You threw your sword to the side, it was the only option so you could keep control of your hands. If you held onto it, she would have paralyzed your wrists for as long as she felt necessary. Electricity surged and wrapped around your calf, traveling down to your foot. You pushed backwards with that foot, putting your weight on the leg you didn’t have electricity rushing through. You raised your foot, kicking Cassandra with a strength that could knock down one of the heavier training dummies at the Manor’s gym.

Cassandra couched, stumbling backwards for a moment while holding her side you had kicked. She had winced in pain, closing an eye tightly to somehow deal with it. Her side was throbbing, and she knew the electricity had traveled into her arms and legs because she could feel her fingertips throbbing, and her legs had felt weak for a second. But, she recovered quickly. The two of you looked at each other, in some sort of a stand off like you see in those western movies. But two of you were now fighting hand to hand.

“Orphan,” Robin called from the side, Red Hood had recovered some, being able to stand now. But he still looked a bit disoriented.

“Go,” Cassandra said, “I can handle this.”

Robin and Red Hood listened, heading towards the door behind them. You didn’t care. Again, Cassandra is your priority, not them.

“Right.” Robin said, going towards the door. You didn't care about protecting Kerrim. It's not like he meant anything to you. Plus, your father will be proud when you kill Cassandra. Far prouder than if you kept some random drug lord alive.

You lurched forward, immediately catching her attention again. You threw a kick at her which she had dogged and you ducked under the punch she sent at you. You winced when she kicked your side and you caught her leg. You pulled it forward roughly, also pulling Cassandra towards you and let go of her leg; you punched her in the face. Your fist collided with her jaw.

Cassandra ignored the slight pain radiating within her cheek and threw her arms out forward and around you. She wrapped her arms around your middle tightly. You tried to push against her, but she was strong. Stronger than you were really expecting. She pushed you forward until your back hit against the wall of the wide hallway roughly. It hurt and knocked the wind out of you, but you recovered quickly. You raised up your own leg and kicked the heel of the boot you wore into Cassandra’s abdomen. She stumbled backwards, holding her abdomen with one arm, and the other arm was at her side.

She looked at you with a wince on her face, her jaw clenched. You rushed forward and started sending electrified punches and kicks at her, but she dodged them all, some just barely. But she dodged them all.

You were growing more and more frustrated. And with that, your attacks just grew more and more aggressive.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she blocked a kick of your’s with her forearm. She couldn’t see your whole face because of the mask you were wearing to at least hide the bottom half of your face. But she could see your eyes. And she saw the way your brows furrowed. She recognized it. She recognized the dim look on your face. She realized it was the one she used to have when she was about your age.

She realized you couldn't understand what she was saying. She felt a pain of empathy fall through her body, landing in her stomach.

You had no idea what she was saying. It sounded like gibberish. But you could tell she was holding back. She wasn’t fighting as well as she could have. Your father made you watch videos of how Cassandra fought when she was your age. She was incredibly skilled, you knew that. And how she was fighting now was that you’ve seen from a novice from the League of Assassins.

Your father realized not long after you grew more of a consciousness for yourself that you had a short temper. You get frustrated easily. And he also realized your meta human ability might be tied with your emotions. You and your electricity got stronger, more relentless, and faster.

And Cassandra had noticed this too. She was amazed with you. You were so young, no older than 14 or maybe 13 and you were already so in control of your abilities. And you were quick. Very quick.

You were about to high kick her in the side of her head, but you made a mistake. You slipped. The foot you put all of your weight on slipped on the ground. Your eyes widened. Cassandra grabbed your wrists and decided on falling with you.

You winced when your back hit the ground roughly. You felt your head knock against the ground roughly as well. Her forearm was against your neck, and she had both of your wrists pinned to the ground above your head. You felt one of her knees pressing firmly against your abdomen, and her other foot was on the ground next to you both, holding her up.

You felt your head pounding, and your eyes grew heavy, no doubt because of it’s collision with the ground. You looked around. Your vision was mixed with spots of different sizes as you looked at the walls and dim lights on the cieling that seemed greatly bright now. Soon, your gaze landed on the woman above you.

Cassandra. Crap.. Cassandra had you pinned to the ground. You need to get up. You need to fight. You need to kill her. You can’t lose, not like this when you’re so close to your mission.

You tried to push against her grip on your wrists, and you tried to push your abdomen up to maybe push her knee off of you, but it wasn’t any use. You were too weak, and you were too tired.

The most you could was charge up a weak volt of electricity into your arms and send them up to your wrists. All Cassandra felt was a tiny shock like static shock from a door or clothing.

Then everything went black..

Chapter Two ->

428 notes · View notes

pastanest · 9 months

Text

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: inspired by this post by @shy-taylorsversion !! hope you like it sweet! ♡

warnings: references to Maeve but nothing too specific

I Can See You

It was as though fate herself was playing the cruellest joke in human history, the day you joined the team. Spencer’s heart was beyond scarred, it had been locked away under every wall he knew how to craft within himself, for his own safety. And yet, with no more than a glance, you began to disarm him.

The team spotted the sparks almost before Spencer did, in the way they acknowledged that he reached to shake your head in greeting; a gesture he typically avoided at all cost. It was the wide eyes from his chosen family that made Spencer realize his body had acted on its own accord, without any consideration for his mind, or heart.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, uh, pleasure to meet you.” He had cleared his throat in his attempts to hold your gaze, a task he had not anticipated to be anywhere near as challenging as it turned out to be.

And the way you had smiled at him? That was the first splinter, in the very first wall that surrounded Spencer’s heart.

It was not drastic enough for Spencer to notice right away, and by the time that he did, it was too late. Anyone would think your moves to be calculated, but the worst part of it was that Spencer could see that your actions and words were completely without ulterior motive.

It is simply who you are, much to a genius’s absolute dismay.

Naturally, Spencer tried to deduce exactly what this immediate connection was on the very first meeting. He sat at his desk with a concentrated frown, and within 15 seconds, he had formed a hypothesis: it was a basic biological attraction, something found in primal creatures, not civilised beings, and certainly not ones with three PhD’s, but if he had to admit that he had animalistic desires on occasion, that was favored over this meaning anything more. With a satisfied nod, he rose from his desk and tried his very best to continue with his day.

He had ventured down the hall of the BAU office, with the intention of retrieving some files he needed to work on, and he was determined to not even remotely acknowledge that you were walking down the very same hallway, in the opposite direction. He did not notice your hair, or your eyes, or the way you walked, the softness found in your smile, and his eidetic memory had definitely not stored each and every detail.

Aaron Hotchner was giving you a tour of the office, Spencer surmised; he absolutely did not strain his every thought to tuning into the conversation in an effort to learn more about the wonder that was you. The width of the hallway allowed for you and Spencer to pass each other without any contact whatsoever, but when your gaze lifted to catch his, neither of you made any effort to increase the distance between you. Instead, you had smiled at him - again, his heart skipped a beat as it reminded him - and the two of you walked, neither one hearing Hotch’s continuing tour of the office as you neared each other. Then your sleeve brushed his. The contact was gone as quickly as it had arrived, but Spencer knew he had goosebumps beneath his suit jacket, and he couldn’t help wondering when he looked over his shoulder to find you doing the same, your eyes locking once again; did you feel it, too?

Only once safely behind the front door of his own apartment, could Spencer Reid regain the ability to think straight. It was foolish, he told himself. A workplace romance? He shook his head as he shrugged off his suit jacket, his gaze lingering momentarily on the sleeve you had brushed against. There was no substance to it, Spencer’s objective brain enforced, need you be reminded of the statistics surrounding workplace entanglements? It was simply the proximity; he had never worked with someone he found so physically attractive before, that was all this was. His mind just needed to adjust to your presence. His eyes were just latching onto the most attractive sight they could find, after forcibly reliving the loss of the love of his life. This was not love, Spencer concluded, it felt nothing like what he had felt for Maeve. The physical weight of the anxiety and stress he had experienced, the secrecy, the pain; all of that was missing, and that was what Spencer understood love to be.

This was foolish, he reminded himself. As of tomorrow, he would put a stop to this, whatever this was.

Spencer walked into the BAU office with newfound purpose the following morning, prepared to focus on his work and nothing else, which would not be a difficult task. Not in the slightest. He was a professional, after all, and you-

“Good morning, Spencer!”

You were already sitting at your desk, and you were smiling at him - the very same smile that Spencer had noticed you had not given anyone else on your first day.

And, like a fool, Doctor Spencer Reid’s eidetic memory jettisoned his previously formed plan of nipping whatever this was in the bud, and instead, he smiled right back at you.

It would be fair to say that he has been a lost cause ever since. His mind has crafted a permanent residence for you, where thoughts of you swirl at a constant rate, and he has allowed such a heinous development; shocking, really. The worst part? Spencer has managed to maintain professionalism, because everything between you is mostly unsaid. It is longing glances, lingering smiles, subtle touches that nobody else would notice; save for the team of profilers that you both happen to work with everyday. You have found your footing within said team and formed fast friends, almost like you had always been part of said team, but you were still such a new and pleasant sight to Spencer each and everyday. You had not seen him through any emotional turmoil, you saw him as he was from when you knew him, and you liked what you saw, in the same way that he liked what he saw in you. There was a mutual understanding, a reciprocated tension that you were equally, acutely aware of.

By now, Spencer knows that when he says something particularly clever, he need only glance at you from the corner of his eye to find you already looking at him with stars in your eyes. By now, you are accustomed to trying to beat Spencer into the office each and every morning, because whoever arrives first will prepare the other’s choice of beverage for the morning, which will be left on their desk in time for the other’s arrival, without a word, but with a complete understanding. By now, the rest of the team are used to sharing eyerolls and exasperated sighs as they watch you and Spencer dance around each other in such a ridiculous, but still undeniably sweet way.

You are something new to Spencer. He doesn’t have to overthink about your safety outside of dangerous cases, he doesn’t have to worry about where he stands with you, because one look is enough to reassure him. Whatever this is, it is something different. It brings about a relief to the stress of the job; the same peace a hot bath would provide, Spencer finds in every smile you give him.

But, at its core, this is unsaid. The layers to it are secret, even with what the team are able to infer from what they can see.

While his brain is focussed on the case at hand, that same little space in Spencer’s mind is alive with thoughts of you. Today, he has been tasked with working the geographical profile with Blake, who is obviously very aware of what is forming between you and Spencer, but elects to say very little about it, given how sensitive the topic could be to Spencer’s still raw heart. That said, she can’t help noticing or smiling at the way Spencer’s gaze continually drifts to the door of the small office within the local police department that they have been working all day, as though willing you to walk through it.

“I’m sure the interviews are going well.” Blake chooses her words carefully, referring to what you have been tasked with, rather than you directly, in an effort to perhaps allow Spencer to open up, just a little.

He frowns at this, trying to convey confusion as he refocusses his gaze on the maps in front of him, running his fingers over them.

“(Y/N) is very good. Knowing her, she’ll come in here in a few minutes saying ‘don’t worry, guys, case closed, we can all go home because there’s a rerun of Doctor Who that I can’t miss’.” Blake tries again, this time using a joke referencing a shared interest of yours and Spencer’s, which pulls the desired smile from him, though he doesn’t lift his eyes from the maps.

A moment of silence passes, in which Spencer considers his own words with equal care, before he decides to respond to what he feels is the most important section of Blake’s last sentence.

“She is…very good.”

Feeling somewhat reassured by Blake’s words in a strange way, in her validating the obvious chemistry between you and Spencer, he finds it easier to continue to working. Of course, he still glances at the door out of habit, wishing for no more than a glimpse of you walking past it, if that’s all he’s allowed for now, but he is focussed on his work. He is a professional, after all.

That is, until his ears - finely tuned to deciphering your voice even in a sea of others - pick up on a distressed tone from you. While the wall between you prevents him from being able to piece together any words, the discomfort he can hear is enough to bring Spencer up from his seat.

“I need to update Hotch on some details of the geographical profile that could assist with the interviews he’s conducting.” Spencer blurts out hurriedly, picking up a random case file without looking at it before rushing out of the room, once again not mentioning you by name, but making his intentions crystal clear to Blake.

She doesn’t question anything, but there’s a knowing smile on her face.

Spencer is out of the door in an instant, his eyes locking onto you a few feet down the hallway, seemingly caught in an uncomfortable exchange with a local police officer. The way your arms are crossed over your chest is enough for Spencer to understand exactly what is going on, and when your gaze gravitates to him, he sees you visibly relax, a soft smile spreading across your face. The local cop continues his attempts at sweet talking you, until he sees your expression and follows your gaze, seeing Spencer stood down the hall with a case file in hand and a frown that could challenge Aaron Hotchner’s. Clearing his throat awkwardly, the local police officer skulks off, and you breathe a sigh of relief, walking over to Spencer and smiling up at him.

“Find anything?” You ask him, gesturing to the case file in his hands, which is now crumpled in his almost white knuckles.

“What? Oh, no, I just- you sounded uncomfortable.” Spencer babbles, his mind shifting from a possessive fury that he’s never previously held for anyone, before settling into a peace that only the subject of that possessive streak can bring.

“I was. Thank you for saving the day, as always.” You smile up at him, and with a rush of confidence, you make a gesture of standing on your tiptoes to kiss Spencer’s cheek as you pass him, and his brain short-circuits.

It takes a whole three seconds for Spencer to regain his 187 IQ points, at which time he looks over his shoulder to find you at the other end of the hallway, mirroring his action with a beaming grin. He stays still - mainly because his brain has not recovered enough for him to trust his ability to walk - but his mind conjures up a beautiful daydream of him strolling right up to you, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you until both of you collapse from lack of oxygen. His hands holding your face, your hands in his hair, his body pressed against yours, holding you up against the wall as your knees attempt to buckle under the weight of what would be the most passionate kiss in human history, Spencer is more than certain of that.

“Are you coming, pretty boy?” You call out to him, abruptly forcing him back into the present.

An interesting choice of words, considering.

“Where?” Spencer asks you, in turn, a smile playing on his lips.

“Lunch!” You state, like it’s obvious.

Spencer glances at his watch, bemused. “It’s 3pm!”

You shrug, but your smile is widening as the amusement grows. “Yep, and I haven’t had lunch, so, you coming?”

Spencer rolls his eyes and refrains from giving you yet another lecture on remembering to take a scheduled lunch break to ensure you have the amount of energy required for maximum efficiency while on the job - which is, obviously, his way of reminding you to eat regularly because he cares about you, not because he cares about your ‘maximum efficiency on the job’.

He quickly pokes his head through the door to the little office, tossing the crumpled case file back on the table where he had previously been sitting.

“Just going to get lunch.” Spencer tells Blake, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Lunch? At 3pm?” She questions, much like he had, and that only makes him smile again.

It isn’t just a smile, though. It’s a bright, wide grin that takes up Spencer’s whole face, making the corners of his eyes crease, and then he disappears without a word, because his expression is explanation enough.

As silly, and as common as it is, after having lunch with you, Spencer’s smile is unwavering for the rest of the day. Yours is too, resulting in both of you receiving teasing remarks from the members of the team that you have been working with, away from each other in the hours that have passed since.

By the time Spencer shuts himself in his own hotel room for the night, his mind is fried, and as a consequence, he cannot withhold thoughts of you to that one corner of his brain. Instead, he sees you standing in the middle of his hotel room, walking up him with a smirk he’s seen time and time again in his dreams. He feels your palms on his chest through his shirt, loosening his tie as his lips ghost yours. His shoulders rolling as you help him take off his suit jacket, discarding it on the floor before his lips fall on yours. And he can see you waiting for him on his hotel room bed, as though you were really there, and had already been there a thousand other times, on a hundred other nights. Oh, how he wishes.

Shaking his head, Spencer forces himself back into the present, into the newly depressing sight of his otherwise empty hotel room. He removes his suit jacket with a bitter expression, knowing you would do it so much better, but alas.

Realizing there is absolutely no way he can sleep in this state, Spencer rolls up the long sleeves of his button-up shirt, kicks his shoes off, and settles in the armchair in the corner of his hotel room. He retrieves his favorite copy of ‘War And Peace’ and decides to reread it to unwind. Just a bit of light reading.

That is, until approximately 10 minutes - and just under halfway through the book - later, when there is an unexpected knock at the door.

Deciding to place ‘War And Peace’ on the physical bedside table and mental backburner, Spencer rises from the armchair and crosses the threshold of his hotel room. The moment he opens the door, his heart leaps right out of his chest.

There you are, in your pajamas, hugging your laptop close to your chest with a smile that Spencer wholeheartedly believes could persuade any man to do anything and everything for you.

“‘The Impossible Planet’ and ‘The Satan Pit’ were rerunning tonight, and we haven’t finished the case in time to watch them, so…” You lift your laptop in a wordless gesture, stars shining in your eyes, and Spencer Reid has to seriously consider whether this is a dream.

His perfect girl, arriving at his door because she wants to watch Doctor Who with him? Surely, fate jests.

“You are an impossible girl.” Is all Spencer can manage to say, a smirk on his face when he sees the recognition in your eyes at his own Doctor Who reference.

“Ooh, you can’t say things like that to a girl, Doctor!” You giggle, knowing you’ve got him right back with a reference of your own.

With that, Spencer invites you into his hotel room, and just like so many times before, you fall asleep with your head on his chest as the end credits roll on your laptop screen, an ever encouraging score from Murray Gold being the soundtrack to Spencer’s longing glance down at you as he brushes your hair away from your face. With a kiss to your forehead and one arm holding you in place, he turns off your laptop and sets it down beside the bed, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you to him in a gesture of affection that was foreign to him before you, but is now second nature.

Spencer never understood what it was to fall asleep with a smile on his face, until he started falling in love with you.

By the time the team is boarding the jet home, you are all beyond exhausted, but relieved in equal measure. Another case closed, another life saved, and another trip home. As opposed to the typical night flights you tend to catch, Penelope managed to secure the jet in time for everyone to be on their way home by midday. So, instead of a silent jet occupied by sleeping FBI agents, Hotch is living vicariously through Rossi and Derek’s latest tales of seduction, you are gossipping with JJ, and at the other end of the jet, perfectly in your line of sight, Spencer is sitting with Blake, unable to resist glancing over at you every so often.

Blake has that same knowing smile on her face, picking up on more than the rest of the team has, given the almost maternal bond she has formed with Spencer, and she decides that this time, she’s going to speak less carefully.

“Spencer, what is the statistical likelihood of history repeating itself?” She asks pointedly, but quietly.

Spencer frowns. “Well, that depends on a number of variables. Technically, it would be impossible to provide an exact statistic, because there are an infinite number of possibilities at every point in every sequence of events that there can ever be, but for history to repeat itself in a direct pattern, it would be incredibly unlikely. Why do you ask?” He rambles, very much enjoying this question, this challenge to his analytical mind.

“Have you ever asked a girl out before?” Blake answers Spencer’s own question with a question, something she has previously reprimanded him for.

And Blake’s question is enough to freeze a genius in his tracks.

He doesn’t have to think about it, he knows the answer, but his confusion and shock makes that one word difficult.

“No.” Spencer says after a moment’s pause.

“Then, to reduce your own anxieties surrounding history repeating itself, why don’t you change that and create an entirely new chain of events for yourself?” Blake suggests, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

As always, she knows exactly what advice he needs to hear. Blake is right, if Spencer does ask you out, what’s unfolding between you and him will truly be unlike anything he has ever experienced before, meaning it cannot possibly end in the same way, the same tragedy cannot befall him if he takes the path he has been so afraid of treading.

“How?” Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper, because he’s vulnerable now. He needs help from a friend, a friend he trusts with a situation that is as precious to him as this.

Grateful that he’s taking her advice on board instead of dismissing it, Blake nods, leaning forward in her seat on the jet.

“Do whatever feels right to you, because it’s you, exactly as you are, that (Y/N) smiles at like that.” Blake says simply, sitting back in her seat and watching as Spencer’s gaze flickers to you again, knowing from the look in his eyes that he’s just received that very smile from you, and that is the only encouragement he needs.

Nodding to himself, Spencer stands up and rushes to the jet kitchen, walking past you and brushing your sleeve with his as he does.

From where you sit with JJ, you can’t help glancing over your shoulder at Spencer, curious as to what he’s doing in the jet kitchen and why he’s trying so very hard to hide whatever it is that he is doing.

No more than a few seconds later, Spencer walks past you again, returning to his own seat at the other end of the jet, but not without very discreetly dropping a small, folded piece of paper into your lap. With a smirk, JJ turns away to look out of the jet window, granting you some privacy as you unfold the piece of paper, your hands trembling ever so slightly as you scan over the page, and Spencer’s own shaky handwriting.

“Meet me tonight?”

Grinning, you lift your eyes from the note and to its sender, who is already staring at you with a mixture of hope and anticipation in varying shades of hazel. From across the jet, you nod at him, and he nods back at you, biting back a disbelieving chuckle as he looks down at his lap shyly, avoiding your eyes.

You want to ask when, where, and how he wants to meet you tonight, but the excitement within the unknown is even better. For the rest of the flight home, you and Spencer exchange expressions of yearning that exceed even your usual standards, and it’s very clear that whatever this is, it’s about to come to a head.

When the jet lands back in Quantico, the team rise from their seats and stretch their limbs, retrieving their overnight bags and heading for the door. You and Spencer fall back in a silent understanding, and he wraps his large hand around yours to take your bag and swing it over his shoulder, giving you one of his signature charming smiles and ridding you of every coherent thought you’ve ever had in the process. With his hand free once again, his fingertips graze yours as you step out of the jet and head back into the office, sparks flying to such a severity, Spencer considers alerting the pilot of a problem with the jet engine.

Much to your mutual dismay, the team is tasked with case reports the second they set foot into the office again, given it is not officially the end of a working day and there is no better time to complete a report than when the case is still fresh in your mind; not everyone has an eidetic memory. And so, your equally yearning glances continue, this time from across the office, as the hours tick by and the anticipation between you grows.

As the hours tick by, Spencer grows restless. He checks his watch, and debates with himself as to whether 6pm can be considered ‘tonight’, before he decides he no longer cares for such technicalities. With his legs bouncing beneath his desk, he quickly writes out another note, then picks up a case report and practically flies over to your desk, dropping the piece of paper on your keyboard before walking out of the glass doors and round the corner, down a hallway that takes him - begrudgingly - out of your sight.

Confused and excited once again, you open the scrunched up note and scream internally.

“Please follow me in 10 seconds and bring your case report - doesn’t matter if it’s finished.”

You stare up at the clock on the office wall, counting the slowest ten seconds of your life, and then the gravity of Spencer pulls you from your desk to fulfill your secret mission. Clutching your incomplete case report to your chest, you try to walk past your coworkers desks as casually as you can, but you can’t help feeling that the room of profilers that surround you are acutely aware of every little tell. You wouldn’t be surprised if they can hear the irregularity in your heartbeat right now.

With trembling hands, you reach for the handle of the glass door and push through it, rounding the corner and immediately freezing on the spot. Halfway down the hallway, Spencer leans against the wall, his case report hanging from his hand loosely at his side, his other hand in a tense fist in front of him as he frowns down at his watch.

As though sensing you, Spencer’s head turns, and when he sees you, he sighs deeply.

“12.5 seconds. I thought you might not be coming.” He says quietly, his words soft and his relief palpable.

An interesting choice of words, considering.

“Sorry, I tried to walk slowly, didn’t want to give anything away.” You explain, your voice as quiet as Spencer’s had been, the distance between you already closing on its own accord.

He shakes his head, but his eyes never leave yours. “No need to apologize. I’m certain they’ll know something’s going on, even with our efforts.”

You can’t help chuckling at that, nodding up at him as he walks closer and begins to tower over you, all words suddenly losing their meaning. In what can only be described as a silent, instinctual mating dance between two equally besotted creatures, with each step Spencer takes towards you, you take a step backwards until your back gently hits the wall, your gazes locked in an indescribable heat, lost in a tension that cannot be defined in any kind of eloquence.

Case report still hanging loosely between Spencer’s index finger and thumb, he closes the space between you until there are only centimeters separating your face and his. With each inhale, you taste each other, smell each other, feel each other closer than ever before, and the primal attraction that Spencer had been foolish enough to believe he was too rigidly sophisticated to ever experience slaps him in the face with a rather rude awakening, but it is a welcome one. His curls touch the skin of your forehead, and you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself, but when Spencer’s free hand moves between your bodies to uncurl one of your hands from its fierce grip on the incomplete case report you clutch to your chest, to place your palm flat against his shirt, over his heart, you forget your own name.

“You know, researchers from the University of Chicago analyzed people’s eye movements as they viewed black and white photos of both couples and attractive strangers to judge whether the people they saw were eliciting feelings of sexual desire or romantic love, and the results revealed an interesting pattern; when the subjects judged a stranger as depicting feelings or romantic love, their eyes stayed fixed on the stranger’s face. However, when the subjects felt the photo was exuding sexual desire, their eyes strayed over the rest of the stranger’s body. The co-author of the research said that by identifying eye patterns that are specific to love-related stimuli, the study may contribute to the development of a biomarker that differentiates feelings of romantic love versus sexual desire, and an eye-tracking model may offer a new avenue of diagnosis for routine clinical exams in psychiatry and/or couple therapy.” Spencer rambles, bringing an enamored smile from you that makes his heart sing. You are always so interested in every single thing he has to say; where others roll their eyes and cut him off, you listen, and you adore him for exactly who he is.

“The reason that I’m telling you this,” Spencer continues, “-is because scientists found that the subject’s judgment can occur in just half a second, suggesting the way we categorize whether we feel lust or love for new people is innately automated.” He wets his lips with his tongue.

“Is this your sciencey way of telling me that, despite it typically being perceived as illogical, you believe in love at first sight? That’s quite controversial for a man who is so often analytically inclined.” You muse thoughtfully, your smile unwavering as you look up at him.

“I didn’t. Not until three months, four days, 9 hours, 12 minutes and-” Spencer checks his watch before meeting your eyes again, “-27 seconds ago.”

You cannot believe Spencer is daring to ask your brain to perform what is nothing short of a miracle in the form of basic mathematics when his lips are almost touching yours.

“You mean…when I…” You can barely form words.

“At the exact moment when you walked into the office on your first day, yes.” Spencer nods, his forehead brushing yours.

The palm that is still pressed to Spencer’s chest through his shirt moves to feel his tie, as though holding onto something for support while the Earth beneath your feet shifts and he is the only thing keeping you here; which, in fairness, he very well might be.

Quite suddenly, the tension between you is suffocating, having long surpassed boiling point, and your breaths are as shallow as his.

The case report held between Spencer’s index finger and thumb is hanging by a metaphorical thread, his other hand lifting to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips caressing your cheek as he drinks you in.

“Can I kiss you, (Y/N)?” He whispers, the boldest words he has ever spoken.

“Yes.” You breathe, without missing a beat, and Spencer does not waste another second.

In one swift motion, the case report falls to the floor, both of his hands coming to cup your face as his lips take yours, your hands holding his to keep him there. Spencer’s body presses into you, acting on a primal instinct that goes beyond his understanding, kissing you like a man starved of physical affection all his life, and there’s far more truth in that than he cares to admit. When one of your hands reaches for his messy curls, Spencer sighs into the kiss, lowering his hands to grab at your waist, squeezing your hips gently. The kiss is its own infinity lived and shared, the two of you only parting for air, but your bodies remaining intertwined, the sound of your heavy breaths echoing down the hallway until you’re both laughing, your foreheads pressed together and an insurmountable love in your eyes.

What this is, is different. You don’t know every detail of Spencer’s past or pain, in the same way that he is yet to know yours, but you have every intention to learn about each other, with this as your foundation. This, without the physical weight of anxiety and stress, with a different kind of secrecy, and free of pain; this is a mutual understanding, a reciprocated attraction beyond what Spencer thought was possible for someone like him. You are different, different to him, different to every person he has ever known, and he has no doubt that he is much the same when compared to the people in your life, too.

You are different, you are new. You are a breath of fresh air that he will never grow tired of breathing.

And he will always, always see you, in every conceivable way that you’ll allow him to.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #Spotify

811 notes · View notes

kaisfruit · 6 months

Note

Hiiii loved your first first about kai!

Could I request a one shot or headcanon about each of the ninja and how they would pleasure a fem!reader pls?

How they pleasure you | All ninja x fem!reader headcanons

a/n: omg tysm for my first ask <3 this is like,,one of the few times ive ever written nsfw so!! i hope its okay :3 also im gonna leave out lloyd cuz ik technically he's an adult but idk it's still a bit weird imo warnings: nsfw under the cut (duh),cunnilingus (cole, zane, nya) , slight size kink mention in cole's part, degradation in kai's part, inappropriate usage of elemental ability (jay), umm thats all i can think of im srry if i missed anything ^^

Cole

Ugh idec he's a big guy. is that a collective hc that the whole fandom can agree on? i think so

def uses that size to his advantage when y'all are alone together

I'm talking like MANHANDLING

only if u ask tho cuz cmon we all know he is such a caring guy he would always take your wants and boundaries into account

okay, my horrible down bad size kink out of the way-

mans has a big appetite (wink wink)

goes down on you like no other. like, he treats your pussy like it's breakfast, lunch, dinner, AND DESSERT babes

there would be no breaks with him. i cant say this enough, but he is eating you out like a man starved

overstimulation bound to happen srry i dont make the rules

he would NOT ask for anything in return

this man is the biggest giver when it comes to sex oh my lorddd

you're in charge but like he is if you know what i mean?

like he does what he knows you love, but on his own terms

ur in the bed and he's just instantly pinning you down yk using that strength of his, spreading your legs as far as the can go, and boom diving in head first

srry i could fill up like 3 posts of just cole eating you out im that passionate abt this topic

Kai

Plays with your pleasure like it's a damn toy

This man is the biggest tease ever

Though, his teasing does lean a bit towards minor body worshipping bc he's just everywhere

Marking you up with hickeys wherever he can get his damn mouth

Hands? can barely keep track of their movements. One second they're playing with your tits the next he's two fingers deep in your pussy

Let's just say he's taking his time here just to make the actual sex feel absolutely amazing on your end

But rlly it gets him going seeing you all whiny beneath him at his never ending touches

it's a win-win if you think about it

THAT DAMN MOUTH.

kai is not the guy for u if ur not down for a bit of degradation because DAMN

he has to come second place to jay in the yapping awards bc he's always saying smthn during the act

he pays attention though. listens or feels your reactions to every filthy thing he whispers to you.

absolutely ruins u for anyone else. gl w this man yall <3

Zane

He is so damn PRECISE??

Like, how does he know exactly how to touch you in that spot in order to get that reaction?

LOVES i mean like absolutely LOVES fingering you

being able to watch you come undone on just his fingers? god it is everything to him

will also add his tongue into the mix bc even tho hes a robot he cannot get enough of ur taste

just so calculated w every movement

bro made sex into a science 😭😭

tells you how good you're doing for him, how perfect you look, etc.

loves praising you bc it's the honest truth of how he feels about you

tbh 50% of the pleasure he gives u is from the pure love u can feel with every slight touch, every kiss, everything

soft dom vibes iykwim

REFUSES to even try to get himself off if he hasnt attended to you first

also an extreme giver like

he would get rid of entire body parts if it meant making u feel even better during sex

okay thats hyperbole but like

this nindroid has so much love in his robot heart for u and he needs u to KNOWWWW

Nya

A GIRL'S GIRL U ALREADY KNOW WHAT IT IS

she has all of these boys BEAT when it comes to pleasuring u bc of her same gender advantage

her head will stay in between your legs until you are absolutely SCREAMING her name

that fact fills her with immense amounts of pride btw

i see her as giving u a good mix of gentle and rough touches that like come together to make the most intense feeling ever??? if that makes sense

she's so good w her mouth like,,,everywhere

her favorite place to have her mouth is on ur pussy ofc, but she could also give a vampire a run for their money with how attached to ur neck she is

marks litter your neck

she's so good at finding that one little sweet spot that makes your body squirm

tends to multitask as well

like if she's currently a knuckle deep in your hole then you can also probably find her mouth licking and sucking at one of your nipples

everything she does to you is just so confusing in the best way possible

Jay

everything with him is just so fast-paced

he barely gives you any time to catch your breath in between anything

just one thing after another with jay

it mostly comes from his overzealous nature

your body makes him feel like a kid in a candy store im not even gonna lie. there's so much he could be doing he doesn't even know where to start

constantly talking. what did you expect from the motormouth himself?

half of it's mumbles of how gorgeous or how breathtaking you are and the other half is just downright filthy

honestly that second part would be such a turn on cuz u wouldn't have expected it from jay

the first time he used his element on you it was an accident

he didn't even realized it happened at first. he felt you jolt at the sensation and his first instinct was to apologize instantly, but he never even had a chance as he felt how you clenched down on his fingers and the moan u let out would forever be ingrained in his brain

from that point on, he's constantly looking for the best opportunity to let the smallest current just give a little tingle to your skin

jay really knows how to keep things interesting <3

#ninjago x reader #ninjago #ninjago headcanons #kai x reader #jay walker x reader #nya x reader #cole x reader #zane x reader #zane julien #jay walker #nya smith #kai smith #cole brookstone #nya jiang #kai jiang #jay x reader #fem reader

466 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 6 months

Text

one to ten | jww

summary: your roommate may not know how to help you feel better, but that won’t stop him from trying. pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader au: roommates to ?, pining, sick fic type: drabble (hurt/comfort, fluff) rating: pg13 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact with my content. cw: gn!spoonie!reader; downbad!best boi!super shy!roommate!wonu; chronic illness/pain is implied but no diagnosis is specified; hand-holding 👁️👄👁️; barely proofread because brain fog, lol. a/n: this is super self-indulgent and based on my own personal experience with chronic illness (fibromyalgia), so it may be different than yours!! wc: 1k

Wonwoo isn’t psychic, but he knows that something is up the second he gets home from work.

Walking through the door of your shared apartment, he moves immediately to deposit his keys on the nearby hook and finds that yours are already there. Odd, he thinks, given your habit of imposing your own overtime. Your commute is shorter than his, and you still never beat him back here.

He looks down as he toes off his shoes, carefully maneuvering them across the mat to avoid both your heels and your sneakers, which don’t seem to have budged since this morning. Wonwoo frowns. It’s rare for you to skip out on the gym at the end of the day, but it’s unheard of for you to miss work — even when you should, in his non-expert opinion.

That’s a bit of a red flag, he’ll admit.

Wonwoo locks the door behind him, pads off across the kitchen and through the adjoining living room, and eventually stops at your bedroom door. It’s cracked open — a secret code of yours, he’s learned. One that means you don’t want to be alone, but you feel the need to warn him about what’s on the other side. Usually, it’s you, deflated in your bed in a way that you find embarrassing. Still, even on your worst days, he’s never seen you look bad.

He’s not convinced that you could if you tried.

Softly, Wonwoo raps his knuckles against the doorframe to warn you. In response, he gets a muffled, “Hello?” It wraps around his heart and squeezes just a little. He loves that about you; how gentle your voice is when everything else you’re experiencing feels the opposite.

You lift your head up just enough to make eye contact with him as he slips through the doorway, and you smile. If it aches to do so, you pretend like it doesn’t.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey.”

Admittedly, this is the part that Wonwoo feels he’s worst at. He’s never quite sure what to ask or what he can do to help, always simultaneously afraid of being patronizing or too hands-off. It’s a balancing act; his equilibrium is off.

And, god, he’s so shy when it comes to you. He can’t make himself act on any of the comforting impulses he absolutely has, so he simply pauses at the end of your bed and sweeps his eyes over your frame. A triage of sorts, he supposes.

You’re on your right side, hugging a hot water bottle, and there’s a Munchlax plush between your knees to keep them separated. Your left hip hurts, he guesses. It’s probably safe to assume that the rest of you does, too. Crinkling his nose as he thinks, he asks, “One to ten?”

Another code.

Wonwoo has to adjust the scale when you answer — three — because your three is his eleven. The good news isn’t lost on him, though: Your pain was a six during the last flare. Things may not be great, but they’ve definitely been worse.

“Mostly just tired,” you sigh, as if you can hear the calculations he’s running in his head. “I was this close —” You lift an arm and pull your thumb and index finger in so that they’re almost touching. “— to making it out the door this morning.”

Dropping your arm again slowly, you pat the space next to you in silent invitation. Wonwoo’s body hesitates, even though his pulse doesn’t. It’s par for the course, unfortunately for him.

He wonders how many moments like this need to pass before his palms don’t sweat anymore. Will filling the spot next to you on your bed, on the couch, or even in your passenger seat ever not affect him like this?

Maybe not.

He’s okay with that, so long as you keep giving him the opportunity.

You laugh, and it single-handedly diffuses the tension in his posture. “I think the side of the bathtub got taller. I almost had to yell for you to haul me out of there, but I managed.”

“Proud of you.” He’s chuckling now, too, but that doesn’t undermine how much he means it. Getting your body to cooperate with you is always hardest in the mornings.

For what it’s worth, he would’ve come running if you’d called.

Carefully, Wonwoo sits down on the vacant side of your bed and scoots closer to you, knowing you’ll call him out for leaving distance and anticipating how badly he'll blush if you do. It’s so much easier for you to be close to people than it is for him, but he’s trying.

He hopes you see that.

There’s a microscopic wince when you wiggle your way towards him. It’s replaced quickly by a satisfied little grin once you settle, your body curving around his bent knee like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

“You always run warm,” you muse. “I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo blinks, a little dumbfounded that you’ve noticed — not that he should be, really. He’s obviously picked up on a lot of trivia about you since you took over his former roommate’s lease several months back. If he knows the order of your skin care routine, it’s not weird for you to know that he can’t sleep without a fan on.

Should he have noticed this about you by now?

Curiosity makes him bold, apparently. He pulls his palm off the mattress and touches his fingertips to the back of your hand. “Goddamn,” he whistles.

His hypothesis is proven the second he touches you — you’re freezing — but Wonwoo admittedly gets a kick out of the temperature disparity. He can’t help but run the pads of his fingers absentmindedly over your skin, tracing nonsense patterns. You can’t help the pleased hum that slips out of you as you watch his ministrations; or the way your heavy eyelids start to interrupt your view.

Even when he’s sure you’ve been lulled to sleep, Wonwoo keeps doodling. It’s got to be exhausting to exist in a body that always aches, and you deserve whatever rest you can get. Truth be told, he could probably stay like this for hours if that would help. He’d be doing the same thing at his PC, anyways, holding a mouse instead of your hand.

Yeah, he thinks, this is a much better set-up.

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #svt #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo drabble #wonwoo hurt/comfort #jww #jade writes #jade’s drabbles #re: one to ten #kvanity

436 notes · View notes

inkyray · 15 days

Text

neighbor!chris x reader part 7

a/n; not text messages yet yall we're getting there, part 6 here

You

You watched him approach you, an expression on his face that told you everything you needed to know. He had forgotten about you, and remembered too late. That was your given conclusion the moment you saw him clutter onto the beach.

When you first went in the water, got carried away for half an hour in the water and came out, expecting him to be there, you didn't find him. You checked your phone to make sure if he had sent a message or something, he hadn't even opened your previous message asking if he was there. Hurt pooled up in your stomach, but a part of you wanted to reassure itself for the better. I threw your phone back to its spot on the towel-covered sand, your emotions quickly replacing itself with anger, and you went for another dive in the ocean.

Now you dried your legs, looking back onto your body as if you truly cared about getting yourself dry as Chris marched toward you. "Hey!" He jogged over, a nervous look on his face as he calculated your mood. "I know I'm late but we can still make time for—"

"I'm surprised you showed up at all." You interrupt, your tongue bittersweet in your mouth. "I was gonna come–I swear–but I just got so caught up with everything." Chris winces, knowing he'd have to try harder than that. You scan him up and down, he looked normal, like every other day he'd pass by your house or stalk past your window. "I'm sure you were, Chris." You sigh, slipping on your clothes over your bathing suit. You don't bother hiding the fact you were upset, but at the same time, you didn't quite show it. It drove him nuts.

"I'm sorry, I came as soon as I could–"

"Did you though?" You wonder out loud, getting ready to leave as he stood there, watching you. "This was the first time we actually wanted to hang out together, just want to point that out." You laugh a little.

You hear him ramble in your ear, and in all honesty, you tune him out, walking past him as he follows you behind like a dog. He gave every excuse he could think of, but truly, you hadn't heard a single word. "Look, Chris." You turn to face him after he trails behind you a little longer. "It's okay. I forgive you." You forgave him, shit happens, but that doesn't mean you weren't still salty about it.

"Really?" His eyes widened, like he didn't take you for the kind of girl to forgive so fast. You nod. "Yeah." But nothing in your tone seemed sincere, negative feelings started to erupt in Chris's stomach, and he couldn't quite decipher what they were. You watched him gulp.

"How about we come again? Tomorrow? This time we'll both be free with no work and, this time I could pick you up instead— Take you there myself." He plans out loud, and you audibly sigh. "I have work tomorrow, how about just take me home instead? That's all I want."

And that's what he did.

He took you to Matt's car, and you sat in the passenger seat as they drove you home in silence. Chris sat in the back with Nick as he kept glancing back at you, trying to make something out of your expression. You had a good poker face.

Nick kept studying the atmosphere of the energy that had appeared the moment you two had entered, and immediately knew there was negative tension. He gave Matt a look from the rear mirror, and they shared an understanding. Something was wrong.

You weren't dumb, you were aware that Chris kept bouncing his leg behind you in nervousness, you knew that he kept looking at you and burning holes into your skin, so did his brother that accompanied him in the back. Thankfully, they didn't decide to ask a single thing, keeping the talk small, short, and sweet. You had gotten close to all of them since you moved, but you knew you'd still have to go a long way before they were fully loose around you.

"Were the waves bad today? I've been wanting to go to the beaches here but never came around to doing it." Matt randomly asks as he makes a left. He really just wanted to squash down the awkward silence with anything, and Nick mentally applauded him for it. You took the hint and responded.

"They were huge, I almost drowned today but I thugged it out." You laugh at the memory that was only a few minutes ago, thankfully you were a strong swimmer. They took note of your light-hearted attempt at humor and ran with it, the attempt working completely. "Really? I thought the waves here were like, calm as fuck." Nick stated.

"I wouldn't know," You run a hand through your dampened sea-salted hair. "It was my first time going to the beaches here."

"We're actually still yet to go to them, a whale washed up on shore a few months ago and that kind of scared us off." Nick openly laughed at the irony of the reason, and you chuckled with him.

The rest of the car ride was dreadful for Chris, you engaged with all of his brothers in a conversation but him. He could help but feel bad—and jealous. He knew he had brought it on to himself, and he'd need to find a way to make it up, fast.

But now, he'd have to face a really loud conversation with his brothers, who decided to corner him as soon as they made it home.

-taglist-

@pepsiboyy @jetaimevous @luvr4miya @christopherscamopants @imwetforyourmom @mattssluttywaist @sturnsxplr-25 @flosslikeabosss @meg-sturniolo @stasiesturn @realuvrrr @always-reading @lovergirl4387 @sleepysturnss @milesfordays11 @nonat-111 @liagazed @freshloveforthefit @blueeyedbesson @h3arts4harry @hypnotizedsturn @sturnthepot

197 notes · View notes

osaemu · 8 months

Text

・𖠗 EMAILS I CAN'T SEND EVENT !

with songs featuring gojo, geto, dazai, chuuya, and childe !

BEFORE YOU LISTEN . . .

careful, there's gonna be some pretty mature themes headin' in . . . sex, cheating, overthinking, y'know, the usual. it's hard being hot !

WHAT'S THE ALBUM ABOUT ?

well, i heard some guys from jujutsu kaisen, bungo stray dogs, and genshin impact are involved in the drama, maybe you know them !

TRACK 9: NONSENSE "baby i'm in too deep, here's a lil' song i wrote, it's about you and me"

꒰ pop star!reader x secret lover!gojo

being a pop star is tough, and maintaining a relationship alongside it is even harder. good thing you have a boyfriend to share the nights with, but what happens when those night-time specials start seeping into your daytime routine?

TRACK 10: FAST TIMES "tiptoeing past so many stages, but what the fuck is patience?"

꒰ coworkers with benefits ft. pm boss!chuuya

being a mafia boss is hard, and the stress that comes with it could kill. so, your boss's solution is to take it out on his pretty little secretary — you. one thing leads to another, and soon it becomes a regular thing. it's okay, it's not like he's gonna fuck you during work hours, right?

TRACK 11: SKINNY DIPPING "if we could take it all off and just exist, and skinny dip in water under the bridge"

꒰ break up –> make up ft. criminal!geto

when you found out he wasn't who he said he was, you dumped him on the spot, and after that you didn't see him for nineteen days. so what happens on the twentieth day when you run into him at your local coffee shop, and how did it end with his dick in your mouth?

TRACK 13: DECODE "you're good at impersonating someone who cares, and you had me for a minute there"

꒰ actor!reader x actor!dazai

your co-star is known for his acting prowess, and maybe he's just a little too good, because even when the lights are down and no cameras in sight, you can never seem to figure out if he means what he says. even when he's drunk in your sheets, every word seems carefully calculated to get something out of you — who knows what he wants?

TRACK 15: FEATHER "your signals are mixed, you act like a bitch, you fit every stereotype, send a pic"

꒰ it girl!reader x fuckboy!gojo

you're everything, and he's just another fuckboy. but even though he's the biggest dickhead you've ever met, you can't deny that he's very, very attractive. so what happens when you have one too many drinks and end up moaning his name all night long?

TRACK 16: LONESOME "did you think about her face with your hands around my waist? did you even give a fuck?"

꒰ exes with benefits ft. fuckboy!childe

you probably shouldn't still sleep with the boy who ruined your life, but hey, he's the only one who knows how to fuck you just right. even if he made you cry for a week straight, you'd rather be crying out his name than wallowing in self-pity at home. and it's not like you're gonna get back together with him, are you?

TRACK 17: THINGS I WISH YOU SAID "i saw you met somebody and i'm jealous as hell, that i can't even stomach loving somebody else"

꒰ cheating ft. ex boyfriend!dazai

maybe it's wrong to cheat on your current boyfriend with your ex, but you never moved on and apparently, neither did he. and shit, he's just as skillful with his words as ever, so just one night wouldn't hurt, right?

SO, WHEN CAN I HEAR THE STORIES ?

well, hannah'll tell you whenever she feels like it, but who knows what order she's whisper them to you in ? it'll be a surprise ~

CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHEN THE STORY'S OUT ?

there's no taglist or anythin', but you can check back here to see if anything's leaked yet ! ++ maybe follow hannah and her tag, 'cause she said she'll post updates there . . . #✧ — emails i can't send

have fun listening! reblogs very appreciated xoxo –> signed, hannah

#✧ — docs #✧ — emails i can't send #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #childe x reader

476 notes · View notes

tunastime · 2 months

Text

do androids dream of electric sheep?

I am nothing if not a vessel for self-indulgent docsuma, especially @shepscapades's dbhc self-indulgent docsuma. sometimes you fall asleep in the lab, and sometimes your friend feels compelled to make sure you're okay <3

(3964 words)

Doc sometimes slips into daydream.

It’s not unlike him. He’d been doing it for some time now, some fix halfway between awake and Sleep Mode. Not quite his mind palace, but still wedged into predictive processes, still trying to work to replay memories. In quiet moments, more often than not, he finds that it’s easier to slip away, to tuck himself into his work, drafting, or building, or walking thoughtful circles and let the mechanical parts of his mind slip away into calculation.

In those same dreams, he tries to calculate the probability of events with what he has, blocking out the movements of who he knows best, who he may be able to pinpoint. He works in quiet as his mind runs in the background, wondering how conversations may go, how actions could be perceived. He maps what might happen if someone got hurt, or if someone needed help, or if someone fell asleep in the lab. Someone. Just anyone. He tells himself it could be anyone, but he would be lying if he didn’t know who.

It was hard, right—it felt wrong if he didn’t. Something he was designed to do, put to waste because it felt silly to imagine waking his lab partner, his friend, making sure he was alright, helping him. Was it wrong to want to be helpful? Was it wrong to want anything? It feels—it’s silly. Want was such a human word. He’s not sure he can really want at all. The paper in front of him is getting fuzzy around the edges, though, as he forces himself back into his true waking mode, and focuses on the task in front of him, now a line of text in his eyesight.

Doc leans hard on his hand, cupped around the side of his jaw as he studies the plans in front of him. He’s long since set them to memory, easily recalled with the summon of command, but he works out the fine details of the draft in front of him, still unsatisfied with his new creation. He works quietly, mentally mapping the lists of supplies he might need, the time it may take. If he were to concentrate the slightest bit more on the display in the corner of his vision, he might note how late it had gotten. Without any windows down here, the night sky can’t leak in, which means Doc doesn’t know it’s gotten dark until Xisuma starts to yawn or he manages to peek outside.

He sets his pad down, eyes skimming the surface. Right, and where was X, anyway? The space, ever growing, up, down, sideways, that he used as his lab had gone still and quiet some time ago. Enough for Doc to take note of. Enough to be a little odd, he would assume, even for him, and the behaviors he knows well from Xisuma. Xisuma didn’t just wander off without a word—he was much too narrative for that. Doc sits up, hand falling to the table.

“X?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The room stays quiet, aside from the hum of recirculating air and electronics. Doc taps his hand against the table—it was some sort of tic he’d picked up from Ren, a sign of his impatience. He couldn’t shake the habit of mimicking it while he was thinking.

Okay, right. Last time he saw X. He gathers up the recall of the path Xisuma would’ve taken from his side, checking over his work at Doc’s request, and around the lab itself, looping back to a series of benches to work on. Leaning from his spot, he tries to pinpoint the peek of green helmet or shoulder piece. He finds neither in the direct line of sight, though, and slowly, bracing his prosthetic arm on the table, Doc stands.

It’s a gentle quiet that fills the room, nice and easy and soft to step through as Doc makes his way around the space. Despite having another work bench quite close, Xisuma had a habit of leaving his stuff about, flitting between projects as he saw fit. It was interesting, sometimes, to watch him move around the room—not that Doc had done any of that. He seemed to bounce from point to point, sometimes staying still for hours, unmoving, lost in work. It was in those hours that Doc found himself watching, just for a moment, studying the shallow curve of his nose and the way his hair fell into his face from behind his helmet.

His office is here, too. Though it’s no different than any other working space in terms of equipment, the space itself is fully outfitted, lined with tools and a large work table, his computer, a desk with a chair. Through the glass, he can see the shape of Xisuma at his desk, likely too caught up in whatever he had been working on to notice Doc’s concern. Doc pauses as he slides open the door, standing in the doorway, announcing himself to the cluttered room.

“Xisuma,” Doc starts. “I know it’s late, if you want to head home, I’m sure I can finish…”

Xisuma is slumped over on his desk as Doc enters. There’s a brief moment, no more than a second, where Doc’s mind spins a scenario hard and fast, the crumpled shape of Xisuma over his desk. But he can see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He registers the slow, steady heartbeat in Xisuma’s chest, and his shoulders sag with relief. He stands in the doorway for a moment. Xisuma looks small, head pillowed on his arms. He’s still running a series of code on the console next to him, which illuminates the back of his head in pale lines of data. His hair falls half loose across his shoulder, like he’d forgotten to finish tying it away from his face, and the slow, deep breaths make it seem like he’d been sleeping here a lot longer than Doc realized. He’s without his helmet, too, which sits beside him on the desk, discarded.

Long enough to get a sore neck and complain about his upper back hurting. Long enough to worry that he might not be getting enough oxygen. Doc sets his shoulders. There’s something in his chest that feels like it skips—regulator, pump, or otherwise. They work in tandem to produce whatever fluttery feeling invades the space where his ribs should be. He presses the heel of his synthetic hand against the depression of his chest, rolling his wrist. The feeling fades for a moment, shuddering through his wrists like it might rest there. He was never going to get used to it, was he?

He steps into the lab proper, sticking his hands into his pockets. He picks his way around the room, trying to walk quietly around it. Xisuma stays asleep, shoulders rising and falling in that even tempo. Doc crouches beside him—Xisuma is properly slumped, back curved forward as he rests. What little Doc can see of his face is soft with sleep, eyelids fluttering just so. When X doesn’t move, he rests his palm over the curve of his shoulder, gentle and slow. He tries not to focus on the fact that so much of his face is exposed to him, aside from just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen him before, briefly, every so often, but it was so different watching him now, calm and comfortable. Doc forces himself to focus.

“Xisuma,” he says, voice dipping low and quiet. He runs his hand over the part of his shoulderblade he can reach. He pats the high of his back. “Xisuma, hey…”

X takes a long breath in, making a squeaky sort of sound high in his chest. Doc feels him hum out from under his hand.

“Doc,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. It was a tired sort of rumble, just on the edge of being rough with sleep, just enough to bring that feeling back to Doc’s internal components, like thirium was sludging too quick too warm through him. He huffs a little breath, a sound caught in his throat.

“You fell asleep at your desk, X,” Doc says, not able to weasel the amusement out of his voice. He runs his hand over his back again, just to see Xisuma’s eyes open tiredly, and shut again. It was so unlike the version of him that he knew in his mind, seeing him savor the brief contact, even from Doc. Especially from Doc. Xisuma was always the one reaching out for him, repairing or correcting or studying. All with purpose. There was no lingering touch between them. And though this had its purpose too, Doc lingered, feeling Xisuma breathe under his hand.

“Sorry,” X mumbles, finally moving to lift his head, to open his eyes. Doc’s hand slides away as X sits up, over his back and back to Doc’s side. Xisuma blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. A frown comes between his eyes as he tries to focus the world around him a little clearer. Like it were mimicking the score across his cheek and nose, there’s a fine indent pressed into his cheek. Doc smiles at him, scrunching his nose in a way he’s seen X do a hundred times.

Xisuma jolts, half reaching for the helmet beside him. If Doc were to really look, he might see the pink-red flush over his cheeks and ears.

“Sorry—I didn’t…”

There he lingers, halfway to reaching. Doc looks away from him, purposefully averting his eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You have to be comfortable too.”

Xisuma hums, smiling a little, hanging his head as he leaves his hand on the table.

“Hah,” he says, ears still pink. “Right. Sorry, sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know where you had gone off to, so I figured I would come make sure you were okay.”

X nods. Doc watches him twist around, hearing the faint give and pop as his spine adjusts to sitting upright.

“‘M alright,” he says. Then he laughs a bit—the sound is airy and half in his chest, enough to shake his shoulders but more of a wheeze than anything else. Everything fit so well to the timbre of Xisuma’s voice, it seemed, be it the way he moved about, or the way he laughed, or the way his shoulder sloped or face was shaped. Not that Doc had been looking. Regardless, Xisuma sighs, and smiles back at him.

“Just embarrassed is all,” he manages. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate you.”

X leans back in his chair. Doc watches him resettle and hum to himself as he gets comfortable against the plush backing. Doc makes a clipped sound, reaches out and moves away again, halfway between shaking him awake and letting him sleep.

“X,” he says. “Would it not be more comfortable if you were sleeping in your spare room?”

Xisuma frowns.

“Would be,” he says, eyes still closed, mumbling. “It just gets awfully cold in there. ‘N if I’m perfectly comfortable in here, why not stay tha’way?”

It’s almost amusing, the trickle of stubbornness that leaks into the tired slur of Xisuma’s voice. It’s almost endearing. He watches X fold his arms over his chest, armor only partly discarded, watches his face wrinkle as he notices and tries to rearrange himself. Doc smiles, something that he simply can’t help—it feels so right, considering how ridiculous this is. He considers his options and weighs the success rates, the action taking a fraction of a second in time, though the scene plays out in his head in full.

“Because you’ll hurt your back,” Doc says plainly. X frowns, clearly mulling it over. There—that’s one that Doc knows, that face, where X slips into thought and worries the inside of his cheek and works his jaw. Doc raises his eyebrows, as if to question him without saying anything, without Xisuma even looking at him.

“Mhh,” Xisuma huffs. He pulls his knees up. Somehow, he manages to fit himself into his desk chair, curling his tall body over his knees and leaning sideways into the back. Doc hums, makes the approximation of the sound he knows.

“Xisuma,” he says. “I’m not going to let you sleep in that chair, you know. You are being stubborn.”

“M‘kay, okay…” Xisuma wheezes, finally uncurling himself.

It takes him a second. Watching Xisuma stretch and blink awake is like watching him come to life. He stretches up and around, face pulling as he likely unsuccessfully shakes the tension from the line of his spine. As he twists, he freezes, face scrunching all at once as he winces, hand shooting up to cup his neck.

“Ow. Jeez.”

He can see it tight in his shoulders and neck, even as X deflates, looking up at him blearily, still slightly slumped in his chair. His eyes shut again.

“Xisuma…” Doc says, mouth twisting.

X sighs.

“‘M fine, Doc,” he manages to murmur out. “Just’a sore neck. Mm’exhausted.”

“Sounds like you need a real bed, mm?” Doc replies, setting his hands on his hips. Xisuma peeks at him, one eye opening, and shutting again.

He sees the fraction of a smile lift the corners of X’s mouth.

“Sure, sure…”

Doc looks over Xisuma’s face. With his eyes shut, face softening, hair tumbling over one shoulder, he looks comfortable. It’s as if someone took a brush to his features and smoothed out any hard edge—either that, or the static has leaked back into Doc’s vision. He feels a chug in his chest and his joints as he locks up.

X hasn’t moved. Doc reaches out, tapping his knee. Xisuma huffs, clearly startled from the half-sleep he’d drifted back into.

“Too tired t’stand,” he manages. Doc makes a questioning noise.

“I think you can make it,”

There’s a beat of silence. Xisuma cracks an eye open again, shuts it, furrowing his eyebrows. Doc watches him curiously, mind running through the list of possible scenarios. He’s made it part way when Xisuma says:

“‘M using you t’stand, then.”

And he makes a little, amused heh, before he says:

“That’s fine.”

There’s something he means to say alongside that, but as soon as X’s very warm, very human hand makes contact with the fabric of his lab coat and the cool synthetic of his arm, he loses focus. He should be used to this—the amount of times X has performed his routine maintenance, sweeping his hands over the replaced shoulder joint to check for seams, or made sure the regulator functioned, or backed up personal data, fingers skimming the shallow port at the back of his neck. He should be, but that contact alone sends a prickling-warm jolt up his arm. It feels foreign to let the touch linger. But Xisuma lingers regardless, hand flat against the space where Doc’s left ribs should be. He’s gone from holding, to simply sitting there, arm bent at the elbow, held weakly up.

“Mrghh…” he complains. Doc taps his elbow, trying to jolt him back awake.

“C’mon, X, you can get up.”

X shakes his head slowly, his hand finding the inner curve of his prosthetic arm, squeezing just once, like he’s remembering it’s there. Then, X leans into him, all at once, slumping into his chest. Doc lets out a wouf in surprise. He holds still, aside from the simulated breath in his chest. After a moment, Xisuma makes a small, tired sound, almost like a laugh.

“Houfh,” he mumbles. “I, mm, don’t…don’t think ‘m gonna make it, Doc.”

“Mhm…” Doc chides.

Xisuma laughs again, lying still for a moment, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a moment where he shifts, and there’s a small, painful noise that he makes.

“Ow, mrrgh—ow, okay—” he gripes. Doc’s synthetic hand finds the curve of his shoulder, patting gently.

“Oh, X—just…stay still, mhm?”

“Mm,” Xisuma says tiredly, “Alright.”

As much as he wants to move him, X is still wearing that damn armor.

Doc lets him lean into his chest as he tries to weasel off the bits of armor left over. It’s a struggle, keeping X comfortable and trying not to pull him around awkwardly, while trying to remove his chestplate with one hand. Once the armor pulls away, he resettles him, slowly scoops one hand under his legs. Something about this, about the way Xisuma leaned heavy into him, felt so painfully human he feels it curl up between the wires connecting his regulator to his side fans.

“Ready?” he says, mostly to the top of Xisuma’s head.

“Mmh…” X murmurs.

He hefts him into his arms, settling him against his chest. When Xisuma sighs, it’s profound and heavy and he tucks his face into Doc’s coat. Doc can feel the remnant of heartbeat from where his arm rests behind his back, thudding away behind his ribs. His breathing stays even, though shallow. One of Xisuma’s hands clasps over the back of his neck, keeping him still.

It’s a careful walk to Xisuma’s spare room. Doc is careful not to bump anything, measuring the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he walks. He drifts back to sleep, though, through the lab, through Doc shutting the lights off. He’ll have to come back through to power down their various computers, but for now, the dull white-blue glow illuminates the room. He carries him into the halls and through and to his room. It’s smaller than the room in his base by a sizable margin—just enough for the essentials. X stirs as Doc pauses to flip on the lamp, the light warm and yellow briefly illuminating the room. This can’t be a daydream, now, with the way X sighs and wriggles himself free as Doc pulls back the quilts and lets him down. He sits down with him, and the warm shape that Xisuma makes curls toward him, just a fraction, as he pulls the blankets over him.

Part of Doc knows that Xisuma won’t remember him carrying him to bed, or making sure he was warm, or keeping the light on so he wasn’t disoriented when he woke. Xisuma sighs, sinking into the pillows, expression relaxed and content. Doc hums.

“That’s better, yeah?” Doc says. He reaches out, instinct, want, desire, something, hammering away in his chest, as he brushes hair from X’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He brushes through the hair close to the base of his neck, across his cheek with his synthetic thumb. His dark hair is fine and soft and it must be a daydream—or it isn’t and he was right, because there have been moments like this in his head. Wondering if Xisuma would let himself succumb to soft comforts. He’s spent his own share of time lying next to him, ignoring the way Xisuma curls up next to him, pretending he himself didn’t move closer when Xisuma lies still. It was this dance that Doc didn’t understand, that he wasn’t sure if he was overthinking. Or overstepping. But Xisuma shifts, pressing his cheek to Doc’s synthetic palm, and Doc suppresses a shudder. It sparks something that could’ve been painful right up his arm and through his chest, bright and warm and staticky.

Doc hums, smiling to himself. Something like a dull thrum knocks in that space of his pump, pushing itself a little further, a little harder. It was sweet. X trusts him, not only to see him without his armor, but to help him to bed, to help him sleep. But Doc lifts his hand away, feeling that ache, the nervous shudder through his system.

X makes a sound, then, something small, eyes fluttering as Doc pulls away. Doc pauses.

“Mhh,” X manages. Doc swallows—he shouldn’t have to. That’s not something he should have to do, or be able to do, but the action just feels appropriate. It goes right along with sighing and laughing, and as he does it, Xisuma says:

“Thanks,” in a small, soft voice, and, muffled, and slightly slurred with sleep: “Didn’t have’ta stop.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, Xisuma,” Doc says. He can feel his temperature tick up several notches, no doubt a blue flush coming to the high of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. He laughs, just a bit. “Did I wake you up?”

X sighs, stretching as he does.

“No,” he manages. “No, y’didn’t…”

“Oh,” Doc says. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Xisuma nods slowly. Ah. Ah. Doc dismisses a temperature notification.

“A little.”

“Mm,” Doc hums. “Silly Xisuma.”

Xisuma laughs. The sound is high and a little fuzzy and a bit caught in his throat. His bright eyes blink up at him and shut again as a smile settles on his face.

“Doc?” he asks.

“Mhm?”

Xisuma yawns, smothering it with the back of his hand, just barely. He tucks that hand close to his chest, curling up further still under his thick comforter.

“Could you…could’you do tha’again? The…” Xisuma lifts his hand, miming a brushing motion as he does. Another temperature warning, higher than the last, blips into Doc’s field of vision. It’s immediately dismissed, but he pulls in a breath, quiet, trying to turn it into a soft laugh.

“I can do that,” Doc says gently. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers through X’s hair, sliding back against his head. He combs through, lifting his hand to go back to his forehead, back to cradle his skull. X’s eyes fall closed again.

Doc can tell the moment that Xisuma truly slips into sleep. He lingers in his space, tracing out the base of his skull with his thumb, taking in the sensation of warmth and contact and stimulation, fingers flickering white up to his wrist. He wishes biting down on his tongue would do anything. He wishes that the hollow of his chest didn’t hold a weight that no diagnostic could fix. He felt too awkward and stilted and not nearly gentle enough. But as Xisuma stays asleep, he draws his hand away. He mumbles his good nights as he stands slowly, shutting out the light and wandering from the room.

He makes his way back into the lab. He replays the memory of Xisuma’s small smile, the fine line of his scar as he’d pressed his face into the pillow, the way he’d relaxed against Doc’s touch. He replays the memory, again, and again. It has to be a daydream. Has to be. There’s no other logical explanation to all of that.

Maybe that would explain the ache in his chest, far too human to be his own.

Doc goes back to work. He sits down at the lab table, spreading his arms as he braces against the white tabletop. He furrows his eyebrows. Something doesn’t feel right, too warm or out of place. He feels gross. Not gross bad, maybe, gross different? Broken? Not broken, maybe. Weird. Wrong. Out of place. It doesn’t make any sense. Or it has, and he’s refusing the obvious answer. Xisuma didn’t ask for any reason. Xisuma asked because he was tired, and tired people do silly things, and silly people are a handful, and Xisuma is a handful—a lovely one. Doc shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It’s an awful hurt, actually, less painful than it is just weird. He thinks for a moment he might be better off if he left, maybe the weight of whatever lingered in his memory would be better off if he were to take a break from standing in the same spaces.

He sends Xisuma a message. From his office, he hears his com ping.

Docm77 whispered to you… Xisuma I’m stepping out, sleep well :-)

362 notes · View notes