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bakugoushotwife · 7 months

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kinktober day thirteen: somnophilia kink

>>> y'all i worked breeding into the plot again officer take me away!! i just love soft and domestic sho, and it also totally feels like something he'd love!!

>>> starring: shouto todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving) somno, breeding, reader hates working lmfao, creampie obviously, mating press. >>> wc: 2.6k >>> event masterlist

shouto loves relaxing. he was sure this was something everyone enjoyed, until he met you. you seemed to stay occupied at all times, delving into hobby after hobby to keep yourself busy. being professional heroes was draining enough, he thought, so why were you indulging in running clubs and extra gym sessions? why did you spend more time learning new recipes and anxiously cleaning the house these days than lounging in bed with him watching tv like you used to? of course, his first assumption is that he has done something to push you away or upset you, as he’s prone to doing. he’s naturally aloof and a bit distant, all things he tries to push past to connect to you, the only person who makes him feel warmth were his coldness usually lies. you know how he is, how he can come off a bit frigid and almost mean without thinking about it, or how he struggles to read your body language and cues—always missing the hints you throw him. you’re used to it by now, far more accommodating than a grown man like him deserves, so he figures this time he needs to get to the bottom of this and make it up to you and prove he can be in tune with your emotions too.

you had grown restless, but it wasn’t all your husband’s fault. you felt so out of place these days, feeling awkward in your own role in life. you enjoy being a hero some days, other days you can hardly motivate yourself to get out of bed. work had become monotonous and meaningless, the streets of japan were safer than they had been in years past, so most of your days were spent patrolling and training if they weren’t consumed in paper work. you felt stagnant, and things were only complicated further by your conflicting emotions. all your friends from school were retired to spend time with their families or in the process of retiring to go home and take care of their parents or kids—and then there was you. a family would be…perfect, but it was a touchy subject with shouto and you didn’t want to press the matter just because you needed a change in life. so yes, you started tinkering around with hobbies to try and get your mind off of things, knowing you had accepted the possibility of not having children when you agreed to be his misses todoroki. he hadn’t taken the possibility completely off the table, but you knew he wanted to broach the subject whenever he was ready. so you started using the home gym a little more, picking up books your girlfriends recommended, even working on your cooking skills all in an effort to feel something other than bored.

you didn’t associate your issues with shouto, still acting as normal as possible in other regards other than your drifting away. you really didn’t think he’d notice given the lack of emotional fluency he had, hoping if you could replace the void growing within you that everything would go back to normal and you could be as happy as you were five or ten years ago. but he had noticed, of course. he missed his wife alongside him, but it wasn’t his fault that he had trauma associated with family and was unsure of himself as a father. it certainly wasn’t his fault that when you got married right out of high school you hadn’t cared—knowing that you love him either way. this is still true, of course, but back then you hadn’t imagined you’d feel this way, this tired of the life you worked so hard for. so ready for the next chapter, especially as ochako welcomes baby midoriya number two and you’re left in charge of the elder brother at the hospital.

the little boy was only about four or so, absolutely adorable and the image of his father. he was a giggly kid, clinging to his “auntie” with excitement to meet his baby brother or sister. ochako called as soon as she was sure she was in labor, and you dropped everything to go support your closest friend, not that you needed an excuse to leave work early anyway. shouto was still working, of course, as a top five hero he was often kept busy. but that left you to wrangle the toddler on your own. it was way easier than you expected, even with the energetic little boy bouncing all over the waiting room waiting for his dad to come get him. he still conversed with you and ate his lunch like a good boy—though that’s because his parents were so good at raising him, but what would you expect from them?

all the day proved to you was that you weren’t just making up solutions to your problems, having a family really is what you want. but still, you love your husband more than this want, so you’ll double down on your hobbies until you find something that sticks.

he reads your texts over and over, waiting on you to get back from the hospital. he had set up a date, truly romantic when he tries to be, and when bakugou answers his calls. following his advice, he had your favorite dinner made and the dining room table was intimately set. ochako had her second baby, and that threw a minor wrench in his plans even lthough he was overjoyed for them, and for you for being their dependable friend in that moment. he sits at the table, all the food keeping warm in the oven as the wax of the candles starts to wane. he had flowers, wine, all the things he knew to try and connect with you and get to the center of your sleepless nights.

when you walk in, he stands, smiling sheepishly. you smile back, though it doesn’t reach the entirety of your eyes. then you notice he’s guarding the table, and you creep closer. “hey, honey.”

“welcome home, sweetheart.” he nods, stepping aside to show you the lovely dinner scene just for you. your heart melts a little at his effort, knowing it was always a great show of his love to do something like this, much preferring cuddle sessions and shared showers over grand displays of affection.

“aw, shou.” you pout, giving him a big hug, “this is so pretty, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you giggle like everything is normal. he hums in thought, slender arms holding your waist as he stews over what to say.

“you’ve been distant as of late.” he says without a trace of malice or disappointment. his words catch you by surprise–he did notice. he lets you go, pulling out your chair and tilting his head for you to sit. “why?”

you clear your throat and sit, any charade you wanted to drum up crumbling in your brain. you can’t lie to him, but how could you approach this without feeling like you’re betraying his trust and wishes. you sigh. “i… i’ve just been trying to find new hobbies.”

“you’re hardly sleeping, and i feel like i never see you anymore.” he frowns, making his way to the oven to retrieve the dinner the chef made. “what is it really, sweetheart? do you feel as if you cannot talk to me? is it something i’ve done?”

you chew the inside of your lip as he assembles food on your plate. “i don’t enjoy hero life anymore. i’m ready for the next chapter, to feel important for other reasons.” you reply, not wanting to make him at fault for your whirlwind feelings as of late.

he takes in what you say, smart enough to connect some dots. the picture you sent him of you holding baby midoriya in your arms and big brother proudly sitting on your lap was the happiest you’ve looked in some time. “the next chapter…as in, motherhood?”

you look up at him, studying his mismatched eyes for a hint of how he feels. you sigh, “i know, i know. i guess that’s why i’ve been a little withdrawn…i feel bad about it, i know what you want.” you chuckle sadly, sipping at the wine provided. “really, i’m trying to get over it, i guess. maybe we could get a dog?”

now he was disappointed. not in your desires, but that you put his possible feelings above your actual ones without ever speaking to him about it. just like you, he had changed as well. he wasn’t the same unsure eighteen year old he was when you married him, and though he still held trauma from his childhood, he had long accepted the concept of being a father since you were by his side. he could do anything if he was with you. he cuts into the meal and gives you a sympathetic glance.

“you should have told me. a family…i think i’m ready for that, if you’re saying you’re ready to stay home in that way.” he hums, knowing you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way after becoming a mother. you gape at him, replaying his words over in your head.

“wh–i don’t want you to do it just for me.” you double down, blindsided by his revelation. had you really put yourself through all of this for nothing?

“i would do anything for you.” he replies instantly, and he meant that with no restrictions. “but i had considered it again around the time izuku welcomed his first.”

“meaning you were ready four years ago?!” you almost cry out just from the shock alone, and he chuckles softly.

“not ready to have one then, but i knew i would want some eventually. now is a good time. we’re stable. you made me nervous.” he sips at his wine, eating his food nonchalantly.

“i made you nervous? i–” you sputter, still grappling with the fact that shouto was more than willing to try for a baby.

“i thought i messed up, you were drifting from me. i wish i had known all you wanted was a child.” he hums thoughtfully, a full plan coming together in his head to comfort both of you. “and you haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks, so i’ll make sure you get both tonight.”

you took that to mean that he’ll fuck you to sleep, another thing he’s prone to do at times. so you shower and meet him in bed, trying to repress your giddiness. you didn’t notice the devious smirk your husband gave you as you sink into his arms. he pulls the blankets over you both, leaning in to give you the routine kisses before bed, and then he turns over like he’s going to sleep.

you look at the ceiling in the dark with confusion. did he forget or change his mind?

“you have to go to sleep before i’ll give you that child, sweetheart.” he speaks into the night, making your heart pound with a mix of frustration and intrigue and warmth at how he cares for you, as worked up as you were for him now, you groan and turn over. your brain is quiet as it’s your heart that races for once, and eventually you’re able to drift to sleep.

he waits a few hours to make sure you’re good and asleep, his whole plan would be ruined if he woke you up. shouto loves you more than anything, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was worried. you had to be well rested, especially if you hoped to give him a baby after all. so only when he hears your quiet snores and deep breathing does he scoot closer, gently positioning you on your back. you dressed in a little nightgown in anticipation of him anyhow, so it was easy for him to locate your waiting bundle of nerves. he rubs you carefully, drawing small circles over your hood as you squirm the slightest bit beside him. he slides his fingers down to the familiar hole beneath, nodding at the feeling of slick appearing, your sweet body was responding to him. he crawls between your legs and carefully pushes your nightgown up over your chest, completely bewitched at the sight of your nipples perking up and goosebumps covering your perfect body.

he thinks it’s almost ridiculous to think he wouldn’t want children with you. you’ve been in his life since his ua days and no one knew him like you did. you were someone so clearly meant to be a mother, it would be a crime not to give you the family you deserve. he easily parts your thighs, massaging and kneading the thickness he finds there as he lowers his face to your slick cunt. he’s always so gentle, but no time more than now as he hopes to remedy all your problems in one fell swoop like a good husband should. he laps at your center, angular nose bumping against the sensitive clit nestled above until he can hear your breathing change. he didn’t think he’d like it this much, but knowing that your body responds to him even subconsciously has his dick growing in his pants. you taste just as good as usual, growing wetter against his face with every passing second. he slides his fingers in, needing to know when you came. you spasm around the digits as his mouth focuses your swollen clit, and he knows you won’t take much longer. he may need his time understanding emotions and the like, but he knew your body like he knew his own. a few more flicks of his tongue over your nub and pumps of his fingers tickling your insides has you unraveling, and even in your sleep you look majestic cumming on his face.

he shoves himself out of his boxers, admiring the way you still jerk when he presses his his fingers to your sensitivity. he draws your thighs around his slender hips, angling his pretty cock to your folds. he nuzzles the length along your folds to coat himself despite the pre oozing from his pink tip, taking a second to enjoy that sight in and of itself. then he sheaths himself, careful not to hiss too loud. you feel amazing, clenching him so tight even in the r.e.m stages of sleep, it’s almost too much for him to process. this was the first attempt at a baby, a family he never imagined himself having until he married and matured with you. it’s intoxicating, really, the way he rocks his way into your waiting pussy, silky walls guiding him in and out without any resistance. he has to bite down on his lip not to grunt and moan at how you feel, promising himself that he’d stay quiet and fill you to the brim. he pushes your legs to your chest, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you only pant softly as he draws in and out of you, figuring this deep angle would be the best for his seed.

all you did was follow his orders, getting the rest he demanded in exchange for his cum, even though he really won in the end. getting you to sleep, getting to see your body recognize and beg for him, getting to shove his cock deep and impress himself on your womb was more than a fair trade. a soft grunt slips past his lips as his hips stutter. his balls feel unimaginably heavy and then they don’t, his heavy load being fucked even deeper by the determined man you married. even when his warmth pools around his own dick as it goes soft inside you, he doesn’t quit, rolling his hips until he’s too sensitive to continue.

he’s the one that doesn’t get any sleep that night, watching you sleep with his seed tucked in you only inspired him to take breaks and keep pumping you full, resigning himself to rest hours later when he can’t possibly cum anymore.

#kyleewritesmha #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #shoto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #mha #boku no hero academia #todoroki shoto #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki smut #shouto smut #shoto smut

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waklman · 11 months

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Not Strong Enough

summary: bradley struggles to understand his grief or you ask bradley why he doesn’t like when people take care of him.

warnings: heavy talks of parental death, mental health, and medicine/medication. 18+ blog.

word count: 1.8k

this is for boygenius fans who also took the line ‘once i took your medication to know what it’s like’ line quite literally bc haha same 👍🏻, not sure if it'll even translate well but lol

something ‘bout you masterlist.

Bradley Bradshaw had been a freshly twenty three when he first discovered that yellowed pill bottle hidden away in his bathroom cabinet. For all these years, the plastic casing was stashed behind a deteriorating box of waterproof band-aids and a decade-old bottle of rubbing alcohol, not meant to be found by anyone else but Carole Bradshaw.

So, when his innocent search for a first aid kit ended with him blankly staring at a cluster of tiny blue tablets spilled into the palm of his hand, the first thought that crossed his mind was to put it away. He knew his mother was no longer around to finish off her prescription, he should put them back where she had originally left them. It’d be wrong if he were to toss them down, especially when they weren’t his to take.

But Bradley Bradshaw did it anyway.

In swallowing down the expired medication, cupping a handful of sink water to aid himself, a sick expectation had welled up within Bradley that night. A part of him hoped that once they dissolved in his stomach—he’d finally be able to understand why she needed them in the first place—that it would give him a glimpse into the mind of the woman he was so curious about. That, if he just had a mere taste of what Carole Bradshaw had taken daily without his knowledge, he'd somehow be closer to her in that way.

Once they settled, Bradley would be able to encapsulate her essence, gaping that bridge he wedged between them. Perhaps then, he'd stop feeling so guilty for looking like a splitting image of her dead husband while she was combating her grief.

But for a plastic tube so brightly colored, it held something so unbelievably numb.

Laying stiffly across the bed he’d already started to outgrow, limbs dangling off the ends of the mattress, a black hole began to materialize—tearing right through his chest that night.

Carole Bradshaw never had to outwardly say it, but Bradley knew she struggled with things he couldn’t begin to fully comprehend as a young boy, barely grazed by the cruelty of the world. So, he did his best to not be another problem for her to deal with growing up, as she had fair share of those in her lifetime.

In elementary school, Bradley was the only student seated quietly, scribbling drawings of airplanes into his name tag with a thick blue crayon, while everyone else cried for their parents on the first day of school. It had been a strange revelation for a child to come to, that he needed to learn how to be alone—how to be without his parents, in case they both weren’t there anymore.

Yet, by the second grade he came to terms with that.

And throughout highschool and college, Bradley made sure to stay out of the line of trouble, for the sake of his mother who made herself sick with worry. Despite what others may think, Bradley paid special attention to his grades, in the same way Carole tended to the burst of star shaped lilies planted in their backyard. And in times where he felt alone during his youth, it almost felt cruel to voice that back to his mother when she asked him ‘How was your day sweetheart?’

It was only when she passed that he finally cried out to her, gripping onto that limp hand by the hospital bedside. It was only when Bradley was truly alone in his life that he felt it was enough to finally say it outloud.

But in his true nature, Bradley bounced back.

The realization that came to him when he was a child, that he’d eventually stretch out the rest of his life alone, hit him again. Moving forward, he had been so sure that he’d be fine with that. There was no room to feel a semblance of pain if he kept everyone at an arm's length away. It somewhat worked to ease him off the loss of Carole, and it should work with everything else in life. But, the universe had different plans for him, when they led him to you.

It had been another night you two spent staring at the stars, sitting on the same blanket on his front lawn, where Bradley found himself not thinking twice about everything he said. Maybe it was the comfort the night sky provided him, or maybe it was because he was just talking to you.

“Hey Bradley?” you call out for him, cutting through the silence. “Why don’t you let people do things for you?”

Bradley keeps his eyes trained on the lights dusted besides the full moon, knowing you were looking at it too. “What do you mean?” He softly asks, delaying a bit.

Slowly, you turn your head, admiring freckles that speckled across his cheek. They lightly danced over the scars adorning his face, and just barely kissed over the tip of his nose. And despite the array of stars twinkling right in front of you, trying to catch your attention again as they glimmered—you had always found him much more mesmerizing.

Bradley Bradshaw was a once in a lifetime sight you had the privilege of seeing up close. And for that reason, you can’t look away from him, not now at least.

“When people let you skip them in line, you don’t do it,” you warily pause, watching Bradley nod as you start. “Then you do that thing where you buy your own beers before your team gets to the Hard Deck, so they don’t beat you to it,” you bite your lip, digging through your list of observations.

“And you have this look when I do stuff for you, like, you don’t understand why I’m making you lunch or why I’m buying you stupid things that remind me of you,” you finally share, stretching your legs out.

The silence that lingers after is heavy.

Bradley takes in a quiet breath, reminded by the life sized teddy bear you lugged into his apartment just last week. “It’s not something I’m used to,” he provides weakly, recalling the way you excitedly screeched at him when the bear fit perfectly on his couch. He’s still not looking at you as he continues. “It’s..it’s dumb. But the idea of someone looking after me, even if it's in a small way. I just…it feels weird for me.”

Everyone he knew, acted as if they hit the jackpot when someone else confessed that they loved them ardently. But while others wished for a moment like that, Bradley wished against it—it would be too burdensome for him. Bradley never wanted someone to love him again, not until now.

“Do you…not like when I do things for you? Is that something you don’t–”

“No. When it’s you, it feels different, ” he cuts you off suddenly. “When you pack me lunch, I feel good eating it. I don’t…I don’t feel guilty eating it,” his head drops, hanging forward like a weight. There had been so many times he secretly threw up his own mother’s cooking, thinking it would hurt less if he didn’t take her token of love. “I hate feeling bad about things like that, it’s not normal,” he confesses.

You blink back the tears coating your eyes, not wanting to lose sight of his starlike freckles. “I want to help you feel good Bradley,” you whisper, fingers twitching at your side.

Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart between the solemn expression he’s wearing and the scrunch his fingers give the thin blanket below him. “I want you to feel okay with being loved, you deserve it as much as anyone else does. I want that for you now, and I think…I would’ve wanted it for you if we were both kids.—if I was lucky enough to know you when I was ten.”

At that, Bradley finally smiles, and it doesn’t seem so tasking to do so. “Would you have sat next to me in class?” He finally turns to you, starting a study of your face, realizing that you glow brighter than the stars shining above both of you.

“In class, and during lunch time. Then we would have hung out during recess too because obviously I win you over with my charms,” you softly smile at him, playing with the idea.

It’s too late for it now—the possibility of you two growing up together as kids. But a part of Bradley likes to imagine it anyway.

If you had been there during his quiet walks home from school, it would have kept his tears from falling. If you fell over in a heated game of tag, he would’ve kissed over your bruised knees like he does now. And if you were there when he came home to an empty house, he wouldn’t have taken Carole’s medication to know what it’s like to be someone who loved him.

“What if all I did was draw the ugliest airplane models?”

“I was a pretty weird kid. I’d probably sit there drooling while watching you doodle,” you confirm, biting your lip to suppress a small laugh.

Bradley extends his hand out to you, uncurling your lip from your teeth to hear it spill from you. Right as he does, you finally giggle in his palm. “Hey, don’t start droolin’ on me Babybear,” he warns, laughing with you.

With his hand cupping your cheek, he leans in to press a quick kiss to your smiling mouth. “I wish we could’ve been kids together,” he cements, pulling back.

“Bradley,” you lean into his hand, warming his calloused palm. “Did you forget about us snatching the last toy plane right from that kid in Target the other day?”

Bradley lightly shrugs, tracing his hand up to tousle your hair. “We have more fun with that plane than he ever will,” he decides, leaving his hand there, holding the top of your head firmly.

Head clamped under his fingers, you nod. “I bet he wishes he could fly it as high as we do when I’m sittin’ on your shoulders.”

“That’s right,” he gradually nods in agreement.

“Speaking of, let’s go back inside and fly it after you take your medication,” you sternly point a finger at him, pairing it with a look.

Bradley mindlessly begins to draw an outline of a plane into your scalp, using his index resting over the back of your head. “Will you feed it to me?”

“That’s a silly question. You know I always do,” you tilt your head slightly.

Bradley softens, finishing off his invisible sketch, adding the detail to the airplane wing.

“Yeah, you always do,” he echoes.

Lieutenant Bradshaw had been thirty nine when he first discovered he’d been prescribed the medication his mother once took. Instead of her name printed across the label, there was his name. Bradley Nick Bradshaw.

But, when it finally came time to take it, Bradley was never shaking above the sink, apprehensive as it spilled out into his palm, no. Because you were always there, softly whispering I love yous as you gently dipped it into his mouth.

Bradley Bradshaw was never left curious about how it felt to love someone like him, not when you kept telling him how rewarding it was.

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #tgm fic #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #rooster angst #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader

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saiidahyunie · 25 days

Text

obsession

kim dahyun x f!reader

synopsis: echoes of the past haunts you for years, hiding from the girl that you loved dearly. but now she’s found you, staying in control is worse than the current nightmare.

warnings: dark concept!!! ; bit of angst ; reader is a vampire ; dahyun works for the fbi ; violence towards reader ; blood play ; implied smut ; flashbacks in italics ; written in one take ; might not be proofread

a/n: the first (and only) time i've written a fic in one sitting :O i'm never doing that again my brain is mush

the soap stung against your hands, palms already rubbed dry with the previous twenty times you’ve rinsed them.

you rub your face furiously, but nothing that you do is enough to shake off the image of blood dripping from your mouth.

her blood.

tears are welling up in your eyes, choking sobs wrenching from your gut. it all started innocently enough.

well-

not quite innocent, because that wasn’t the word you would use to describe the position that you were in, with your fingers buried inside dahyun, your mouth nibbling delicate trails down her neck.

you only remember her moans, her breathless commands for you to go harder, faster, deeper, the way she opened up so beautifully to you, her legs spreading so eagerly for you.

the scent, however, you don’t even remember how it overcame you, the heady aroma of her arousal and the blood, thrumming hard and fast in her veins. you remember even less when your teeth tore into dahyun’s skin and tasted her for the first time, a taste so exquisite, it would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“y/n…”

you look up to see the reflection of your father in the mirror, jaw set in a grim line.

“she’s gonna make it, right…?”

you haven’t heard yourself this weak since the early years of grade school. not since losing to the new girl at the park left you in tears,

every.

single.

day.

now, that same girl, older now, the same one you held so many times, was in the hospital, battling for her life…and it was completely, entirely, your doing.

your father just nods, knowing that the words will serve no purpose here, because you’ve already become broken, too damaged by the truth of your own nature to be consoled by the petty words.

“we need to leave, y/n.”

knowing what your father meant, that he wasn’t talking about leaving the bathroom, or the hospital, or even to go visit dahyun…he was talking about leaving town…forever.

“you can’t expect me to just leave her like this,” you cry, “she needs me,”

the stinging sound of a slap rang loud and clear across the stalls of the bathroom.

“let’s not forget the reason she’s in the hospital, in the first place.”

and all you could do was hold your cheek gingerly, tears burning the red imprint of your father’s hand across your skin, because those words were a much needed reminder. even though guilt ripped through you for what you done, a small part of you, stubborn and child-like, still longed to be at dahyun’s bedside, to hold her hand till her eyes opened again.

“i will only say this once,” your father murmurs somberly, “and you will do well to listen.”

“she is better off without you.”

—

most people say that medical anesthesia induces a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep. but instead of the black nothingness that was supposed to surround her, dahyun rememberonly red, swelling around her like pretty petals falling from the sky…and a voice.

“dahyun…?”

“oh god, no please wake up dahyun, please…”

she can hear soft sobs in the background.

“what have i done…dad? what’s happening?”

“why won’t she open her eyes?!?!”

there is pain, heavy, scathing in this voice, and she wants to go to you, to the voice that’s crying for her.

but she can’t, for the love of you, seem to open her eyes.

—

when dahyun does finally wake, to the dull, throbbing pain of having one too many tubes stuck in her body, she sees jeongyeon, her eyes lighting up as if in slow motion.

“dahyun,” jeongyeon mumbles, hugging her gingerly, “i was so worried…what happened to you?”

her hands feel stiff, like lead, but she lifts them to her head anyway, rubbing her forehead slowly. “i don’t know…”

dahyun would’ve asked where she was, but her consciousness had revived to the point where she could recognize the conatst beeping and the bottles of liquid hung over her head.

she was in the hospital.

“your parents just went to grab a bite…they’ve been here for the past ten hours, waiting for you to wake up…”

“jeong…” dahyun speaks slowly, her tongue hurting to even speak, “where’s y/n?”

jeongyeon gulps, the brown in her eyes crinkling with regret.

“she…” jeongyeon hesitates, not knowing how to tell her that when you had called her, there was no answer, and that when you had run over to her house, frantic, pounding on her door desperately, nobody had opened the door either. “y/n has gone away…for a bit.”

—

working for the bureau has taught dahyun a host of things. of these life lessons, the most important is to always be prepared. with a job that has such high amounts of risk involved on a daily basis, being prepared for the worst is a lifestyle that she has adapted to. be it an explosion, a knife at her throat, or being held at gunpoint, dahyun’s seen it all and come out unfazed.

but standing here, across the room from a woman she hasn’t seen in years, dahyun is definitely not prepared for the impatient scowl spreading across your sharp features.

“how did you find me?”

contempt oozes out of your words, thick and poisonous, flowing onto her and leaving their sting, but dahyun doesn’t show it. it’s a trait she’s mastered over the years.

“i work for the bureau,” dahyun says impassively, “we have our ways.” ways that have been useless for the past seven years, she wants to add, but elects to keep quiet.

you stare at dahyun for what seems like hours, angry flashes of dark into her warm brown. you are visibly seething and a part of dahyun is smiling inside because after seven of not knowing if you were alive or dead, she was ready to give anything to just look at you, angry or not.

“did it ever occur to you that maybe i didn’t want you to find me?” you hiss, tone rising.

every day, dahyun thinks somberly. she was never under any illusions. she realized within the first one year of your devastating disappearance from her life that you didn’t want anything to do with her.

“i needed to know that you were okay.”

that you were alive. happy.

before dahyun’s well trained eyes could register it, you were in front of her, pinning her against the wall. your presence is everywhere, all around her and she can barely breathe. dazedly, dahyun wonders when you learned to move that fast.

you grit your teeth, eyes gleaming menacingly. “well here i am, dahyun.” you hover right above her, face barely inches away. “do i look okay enough for you?”

dahyun nods mutely, crushed by the power of your hold to make her feel so vulnerable. “i thought you were dead,” she whispers, looking into your bright verdant orbs, still reveling in the fact that you weren’t dead, you very much alive and standing right in front of her.

the fear, that undeniable dread in her voice as she utters those words is so powerful, you were this close to breaking down, the heady scent of having dahyun in your arms making you completely weak.

backing away, knowing that this kind of proximity, the nature of this very conversation is heading down a dangerous path for the both of you and so you step away, giving back her breathing space.

pinching the bridge of your nose, you steel yourself, working up the courage to say the words that are the very opposite of what you so desperately want. “you need to leave.”

desperation washes over, fuelled by the withdrawal of having you so close to her. “i’ve never stopped looking,” dahyun says, looking away. “not once.”

“you weren’t supposed to be looking for me,” you mutter, but it’s futile, you knew perfectly well how she worked.

“there were no traces of you anywhere,” dahyun continues bleaky, “not until you contacted jeongyeon.”

a moment of weakness. when you learned that jeongyeon was getting married, you had fought every fiber in your body to ont get onto the first plane back home and share this moment of happiness with her. so you did something almost as stupid. you left a voice message.

“congrats on the wedding day! i hope that you and jihyo share a wonderful life ahead!”

you had taken enough precaution to use a public phone, but you should’ve known that there was no stopping dahyun.

“she told you,” you mutter, wondering why you’re even surprised, it was the obvious course of action. “that bitch…”

“she’s the only one who’s ever understood,” dahyun whispers, and it’s then you see her properly, for the first time this evening. you see the helpless look in her brown pool and guilt washes over you like a tidal wave. “i came back from the hospital and you were gone.”

you don’t say anything, not even looking at dahyun–you can’t—not with the memories of what left her in the hospital playing so vividly in your mind.

“y/n?” dahyun’s voice wavers, but she powers on because she’s lived for seven years without any answers, all her memories shaken, ever since that day. “tell me what happened that day?”

you mumble a curse. it was everything you never wanted, to relive those memories—and even worse— recount them to the girl who’d almost died in your hands.

“you don’t remember anything?”

dahyun shakes her head. “i remember we were in your room…we were,” she blushes at this point, because the sight of her at that moment, so lost in her own pleasure would have made anyone blush, “and the next thing i knew, i was waking up in the hospital.”

“convenient…” you mutter, irrationally angry with dahyun for only remembering the pretty, happy moments, while you were cursed to live with the guilt.

“well,” you whisper, a slight evil glint in your glowing eyes, “let’s help you remember then.”

you walk toward dahyun slowly, dispelling your jacket, and unbuttoning the top two buttons. it was such a loose, effortless motion, and dahyun knows that on some level this was what she desired, but for some reason she takes a step back.

soon, dahyun finds herself pressed up against the wall, with nowhere to run or hide, not knowing why she’s thinking of that all of a sudden, with you looming over her, the beautiful eyes she remembers all dark and stormy.

“why so scared, dahyun?” you ask, mockingly, “you don’t remember anything anyway.”

it makes no sense, these tears welled up in dahyun’s eyes, because she’s dreamt of you for so long, of you like this, close to her. but something feels different, more sinister, and it makes her edgy.

“shhh,” you whisper, as the first tear drop rolls its way down dahyun’s cheek, guilty on some level that you’re scaling her, but she’s so close to you, her heartbeat pouding so loud and alluring in your ears, that you were beyond just simply turned on. “i just want to pick up where we left off.”

dahyun’s mouth responded eagerly to you despite her fear, body pressing up against you the way it remembers, lithe muscles against your slightly larger frame.

you weren’t sure of what kind of seduction you were aiming for, because it felt like you were the one melting, your objectionable heart like putty in her hands, so lost in the exquisite sweetness of her mouth, that you think you’re quite willing to forget all of the threats you’ve just made, as long as she stayed like this, dahyun wrapped in your arms for eternity.

“dahyun,” you groan, as dahyun’s legs rub together against the one leg put in between, testing your control further.

“i missed you…” dahyun mumblers, in between kisses, unwilling to let go of your mouth for these much needed words.

it was somewhere at this point, when you were so lost in this shameless gyrating, that you’re nipping on her lower lip roughly, willing herself to give into you, tongue sweeping into hers, that you were aware of the cold, metalice tinge of something in the kissand you don’t even need to think twice about what it really is.

you stagger back, desperate to get away from her, away from the mistake that threatened to repeat itself all over again.

you see dahyun’s eyes recover slowly from their glaze, her breathing still uneven.

she probably didn't even realize.

but the panic seizes you, making you crumble to the floor, voice pleading “you need to leave, dahyun…please.”

dahyun’s lips tremble, the undeniable feeling of rejection flooding through her. “is there…” she hesitates for a second, because it’s the only thing she could think of. “someone else?”

it had been seven years after all. maybe dahyun really didn't have a place in your life anymore.

there was something about the way her words hit you, deep and accusing, and so very broken, that the precious string of control was holding you steady, snapped.

“is that what you think?” you whisper, wondering just how dahyun could deny the truth even after so long.

“look at me, dahyun,” you say hoarsely. “i’m a monster.” because despite living among your own kind for the past seven years, you could never see it any other way.

“this place you stumbled into, its filled with the whole lot of us filthy vampires. you’ve stubled right into the goddamn hellhole and i can hardly protect you from myself…” you take a deep breath. “how will i protect you from the others?”

dahyun reels her head from your admission. yet, on some level, she can’t deny that she had harbored a suspicion, especially when she had found evidence of your residence in this area.

“i don’t need your protection, y/n. i can hold my own, i–”

“i almost killed you, dahyun,” you grit out, anger flashing in your bright eyes, like it always does, when she thinks she doesn’t need you, “that’s what happened seven years ago.”

dahyun’s eyes widened, shock coursing it way through her.

“and do you know why?” you ask bitterly.

“because i wanted you. and here you are, right in front of me, and all i can think of is taking you. possessing you, all over again.”

because that was the truth, that’s all you can think of, the softness of her lips as it brushed against yours, the tentative flick of her tongue, her sweet breath mingling with yours….

and the delicious scent of her blood, pumping through her veins.

and all you want to feel them all…all over again.

dahyun’s eyes fall to the floor, tears streaming freely now. she knew what you were trying to do.

but you would never understand, that for dahyun, you could say anything and it would never be enough to scare her away,

because in dahyun’s eyes it was all the same, lifelessness, or a life without you, knowing that you hurt for her too, wants her in whatever twisted way that you do…it was just too fucking painful.

and dahyun had already lived seven years of this hell. you were here now, in front of her, and she wasn’t willing to give up this glimpse of paradise, no matter how fucked up it was.

she bit into her already split lip, the blood only too happy to be relieved of its container, smearing all over her lip. dahyun watched as your pupils dilated, blown by the sheer arousal of her act, and it was probably downright depraved, but she was pretty sure that if you kept looking at her like that, she would be alright.

“if this is all you want,” dahyun whispers, walking toward you, the blood dripping in a beautiful red trail down to her chin as she sat down astride you. she angled her chin so that drop would fall perfectly into your waiting, parted mouth.

“then take me.”

#hyunie #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice dahyun #kim dahyun #dahyun x reader #twice imagines #dahyun imagines #twice

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kimsohn · 8 months

Text

it takes 2 to mango

pairing . beomgyu x gn! reader (ft. yunjin of le sserafim) about . 12.2k words, fluff + angst warnings . cursing, a lot of food mentions, kissing, mentions of murder/dying (it's all jokes), y/n is in denial half the time (about beomgyu and mangoes), it took me like 2 months to write this so it may be all over the place i'm sorry in advance

synopsis . after your parents drop you off at your aunt's, leaving you with your whole life packed in bags, all you can do is wonder when you'll finally be able to get back to your old life. except, of course, when a brown-haired boy makes you wonder if staying here isn't so bad after all. note . literally after 2 years of delay and many plot changes it's finally here!! happy (late) birthday @urmelo, i told you i would write it and it's here (albeit two months late but wtv). also i literally wrote this whole thing based on this image but halfway through i realized he's sitting in a classroom so my whole broadcast idea was stupid 😞 and this is slightly inspired by all of us are dead and f4thailand! i stole the mango pun from google tagging . @invuwrld @tocupid @mmmsvnts @seung-scrittore

You have never loathed mangoes more than this moment.

It’s only been a couple of hours since your parents dropped you off at your aunt’s house, your whole life packed into suitcases and a Hello Kitty backpack you’ve owned since fifth grade, and you’re already sick of this situation. You don’t even understand your parents’ thought process, because who would even leave their whole life behind to start a mango supply business in Thailand, and you’re even angrier at your aunt for encouraging it. Now, you’re forced to leave behind the comfort of your old life and start anew in the four walls of your new house, miles away from your parents and old friends.

You even hate the stupid smile on your mom’s face when you agreed to their plan. At least you’ll be somewhat rich when your parents decide to come home, however long that might take (hopefully it’s within the next five minutes or so).

“Y/N, let me know if you want to paint your walls, okay? Your uncle loves interior design, so he’ll be happy to organize your room.”

In your old house, your walls were a bright, cheery yellow. Now they’re a boring beige, reminiscent of the hospital walls you’ve always hated. It’s okay though, because now yellow will remind you of mangoes, and you’re just about ready to hurl something at the mere thought of the fruit.

“It’s okay Auntie,” you respond, tracing your finger across the indents of the walls, “I kind of like the beige.”

Your cousin Yeonjun snickers from behind your aunt, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Yeonjun is definitely the type to hate beige because even his personality shines a bright red flag. Even now, he’s on his phone, probably flirting with (code word for annoying) some poor soul.

“Okay, honey. Yeonjun can help you finish unpacking, and then he can take you to school so you can find your classes. Tomorrow is your first day, after all, I don’t want you to get lost.”

With that, she closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you in your drab room with no personality. Instead of helping you unpack, Yeonjun sits on the chair in the corner, typing away with no care in his mind.

“I thought you were supposed to help?” you huff, though it’s not angrily.

Even though you and your cousin were friends, at first forcibly due to your family relations and later willingly because he’s actually quite interesting, you know that he won’t hesitate to note whatever he can to have leverage over you. Already, he’s taken a picture of your backpack, and if he helps you unpack, he’ll definitely find the shark plushie you brought for the sentiment. It’s not out of malice; it’s just the way your relationship is, however annoying it may be.

“Like you need my help,” he scoffs, crossing one leg over the other as a means to get comfortable, “just let me know when you’re done.”

You survey the mess of your belongings scattered across the bed. It’ll probably take hours, if not days, to sort out properly, and even you are itching to leave this stuffy room and get some fresh air. You’ve sorted out what you need for the next few days, so you might as well revisit this mess later.

“Actually, we can go now. I kind of need a break anyway.”

“Goody-two-shoes Y/N needs a break? Are you in your rebel era?” he jokes, but he opens the door and sticks a leg out, leaving it open for you to walk through.

You smack him on the shoulder as you walk to his car, sitting shotgun and itching to put your feet on the dash. You’re an average kid and you do average things, but you’re not in the mood to argue and correct your cousin.

“Just shut up and drive.”

You kind of wish you stayed at home because even mangoes wouldn’t survive in this environment.

Actually, there’s nothing wrong with your new school. It seems even more modern and spacious than your old one, and it has way more amenities than you could even imagine. You can see yourself fitting in here quite well, and since Yeonjun is popular, it’ll be easy to make friends.

The only problem is that the air conditioner isn’t working today, which means it’s extremely hot in the building. The hot sun outside paired with the lack of cool air means the whole building could resemble the Sahara Desert, and you wish you’d worn something more fitting for the weather, like the tank top Yeonjun has on right now (although, he seems to have other motives for wearing it). The sweat beads trickle down your forehead, and the only thing saving you right now is the popsicle your cousin was kind enough to buy for you. Unluckily, the gas station only had the mango flavor left.

“Yeonjun, are we done yet?” you ask, although it sounds more like a plea as you trudge along the hallways.

“Actually, no. We still have the science hallway, and the math hallway, and—”

A shrill noise fills the air, and you cover your ears shut and watch Yeonjun’s popsicle fall from his hands. Startled, the two of you find stability against the wall as the sound disappears and is replaced with crackling noises.

“Fuck, my popsicle!” Yeonjun exclaims, looking extremely disappointed as he grabs a tissue and cleans the mess up.

“Forget the popsicle, what was that? It’s a Sunday, who’s playing with the speakers?”

“It’s probably the media team preparing for the week’s announcements. Come, I’ll show you the broadcast studio.”

Yeonjun’s flip-flops squeak across the floor as you two walk, and in a matter of minutes, you reach a bright blue door next to the auditorium. Big block letters indicating which room it is are engraved on top, and Yeonjun knocks on the door repeatedly until it opens.

“I knew it was you,” a blue-haired boy answers, “you’re the only one annoying enough to knock that many times.”

“Hey! You should’ve answered faster.” Yeonjun protests as you giggle, glad you’re not the only one who finds your cousin annoying.

The boy pouts as he lets you two inside, and immediately you feel like you were cast into a recording studio. Shelves of CDs and books fill the sides, and behind the glass panel, a room full of microphones and levers peeks through. You feel like Radio Rebel in her bedroom, only intensified, and as you check out the large computer screens that line the walls, you find yourself imagining sitting in the center and being a part of whatever goes on behind the scenes here.

Your eyes cross over a brown-haired boy sitting at the table, headphones covering his plush hair and a teal highlighter in his hand. He’s looking down at a piece of paper, probably a script, and unknowingly you’re leaning forward to get a better look at his face before Yeonjun taps your shoulder and you straighten yourself.

“Y/N, this is Soobin,” Yeonjun gestures to the blue-haired boy, “and that over there is Beomgyu,” he continues, pointing to the boy at the desk.

Soobin smiles warmly, shaking your hand awkwardly as if this was a courthouse and not a classroom, but your eyes are more focused on Beomgyu. They’re focused on the way he taps the highlighter on his lips when he’s deep in thought, or when he adjusts his headphones when he’s satisfied with something. Yeonjun moves to interrupt him, probably to introduce you, but you hold him back so he can continue his work.

“Are you interested in joining?” Soobin asks, handing you a flyer, “we could always use more people.”

“I’m not that much of a speaker,” you respond, taking the handout anyway.

“You don’t need to be. We do more here than just talk, you know?”

As Soobin waves you goodbye, you take one last glance at the room, particularly Beomgyu, before you step out. You don’t know for sure whether you’ll join the club or not, but you have a feeling that you’ll be seeing him around pretty soon.

You might hate your alarm clock more than you hate mangoes, but at least it’s useful.

It’s the first day at your new school, but you’re not really jumping for joy. School is school wherever you go, and you don’t really feel the excitement or jitters someone would usually feel after transferring. You’re just about ready to pass through the rest of the year as smoothly as possible and hopefully not gain unwanted attention as the resident new kid. You’re already suffering enough by joining after a whole semester; you don’t need to bring any more trouble to yourself.

“Y/N, are you ready?” Yeonjun yells from outside the house, revving the accelerator so you can hear his annoyance.

“Coming!” you yell back, grabbing your bag and rushing out the door, holding a half-eaten piece of toast and a glass of orange juice.

Yeonjun likes to go to school a little early so he can talk to his friends, but this was a fact you didn’t know until five minutes ago. In an ideal situation, you wouldn’t have been rushing on your first day, but your cousin never makes things easy for you. At least he didn’t drive off without you.

Yeonjun attempts to lecture you about your lateness in the car, but you tell him to pay attention to the road and stuff the toast in your mouth. One thing you won’t let your cousin disturb you about is food, so you’re glad he calms down and lets you enjoy a peaceful ride to school.

You’re finishing your orange juice as he pulls into the student parking lot. He has a spot reserved for him, apparently, and the fact seems to be true as he parks in the space with “YEONJUN” decorated in bright red spray-paint letters. He puts on sunglasses as he exits the car, and you’re extremely glad he doesn’t have fans swooning over him in front of his car because you don’t know how much more you can take. Who does he think he is?

Thankfully, the air conditioner seems to be working this time around because as soon as you enter through the front doors, a blast of cool air hits you in the face. It’s only January, but the sun outside doesn’t seem to be taking a break this week, so you’re grateful for the human wonder that is A/C. Yesterday’s empty halls are now filled with students, and already Yeonjun is dragging you off to introduce you to some new people. You’re just glad he has pink hair because otherwise, you would’ve lost him.

By the time you reach your first class, your mind is riddled with names of people you’ll probably never talk to again. You’ve met at least three Jaehyuns, a Yunjin and a Yujin and another Han Yujin, two Jisungs, and many more students you definitely won’t remember. If you were on your own, it would’ve taken you a whole year to talk to this many people, but with a semi-superstar by your side, it only took ten minutes. You’re just glad your presence seems to be well-received.

Your first class is math, and already you find yourself falling asleep. A stack of books finds its way onto your desk, a textbook for everything you could need, and you can foresee yourself sleeping in to skip this terrible class. The only good sight about this class is Mr. Kim, who’s nice and tries to be entertaining, but there are only so many ways you can make numbers and formulas fun. At least the girl sitting in front of you, Yunjin from earlier, helps you pass the time by doodling her number on the margins of your notebook.

Bored and half asleep, you trudge your way to your second class, history. You’re grateful your cousin helped you find your way across the school yesterday, because your class is across the school in a corner you wouldn’t have even known existed. Unlucky for you, Mrs. Jung isn’t as nice or entertaining as Mr. Kim, but just before you can succumb to slumber, the intercom buzzes.

The morning announcements play, but instead of Soobin’s voice, you hear someone unfamiliar.

“Hey everyone, happy Monday! It’s the beginning of the week, which means we have a long road ahead, but I believe in each and every one of you to get through it. We’re only a couple of weeks from break, which is an exciting thought to look forward to…”

You realize halfway through that the voice is Beomgyu’s, and you don’t know what it is about his voice, but it seems to be perfect for starting off the announcements. He seems to be tasked with maybe a desperate attempt to cheer up the student body on a dreary Monday, but they seem to be doing the job because you feel much lighter than before the announcements. Others seem to feel the same way too, because the atmosphere in the once stale, cornered history classroom is now bright and jolly. You honestly wish you had listened to the full script he had prepared, but either because of your previous fascination or his soft, honeylike voice, you find it hard not to be lulled to dreamland.

After, he's followed by Soobin, who talks about the daily updates and the weather, and you wonder how he manages to sound so upbeat and cheery this early in the morning. He then passes the mic to a boy named Taehyun, who voices important announcements and leads the school pledge before the mic crackles off.

You can’t stop thinking about Beomgyu for the rest of the class period, so when he slides into the empty seat next to you halfway through the lesson, you think you must be imagining things. It’s like he’s glowing, as if a dreamy filter spans across his face. You stare at him until he stares back and raises an eyebrow, a quirk to show his feelings of confusion. He throws a rolled-up piece of paper at you, and when you catch it, you realize he’s very much real.

Bit by bit, you unfold the paper, and in scratchy handwriting, he’s written ‘Am I that interesting?’ in all caps. Your face feels like it’s on fire, and you tuck the paper in between the crease of your notebook, filled with doodles of Beomgyu’s name. You quickly shut it, hoping he didn’t see it, and avoid his gaze for the rest of the period.

Unluckily for you, fate doesn’t seem to be on your side because as soon as the bell rings, Beomgyu is reaching out to grab your elbow. You think you’re utterly and absolutely fucked, and you’re even more mortified when he links elbows with you and leads you out of the classroom.

“What’s your next class?” he prods, and you only answer after he asks a second time because you’re too embarrassed to register anything.

“English, with Mr. Yoon. Look, I’m sorry about before, I thought I was dreaming—”

“Dreaming? Are you in love with me or something?” he asks, and even though the question is accusatory, his smooth voice makes it sound like music to your ears.

“No!” you exclaim, a little too loudly that you have to apologize to the teachers standing in the hallway before continuing, “Look, I was falling asleep in Mrs. Jung’s class, okay? Since the seat next to me was empty beforehand, I thought you were a random daydream that I was making up to distract myself. I genuinely didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my staring or anything, I just didn’t know you were real until you threw that ball at me.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he responds, his features softening at your explanation, “her class is pretty boring anyway. You’re new here, right? Yeonjun’s cousin? I’m Beomgyu.”

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. You’re a little weird, you know that?” he remarks, laughing as he walks you to class.

You look down at your linked elbows and his goofy skipping. His observance is contradictory, but somehow, his weirdness is a little endearing to refute.

“Yeah, but you’re a little weird too. We cancel each other out, I guess.”

As soon as you step into the production room, you’re cast with the smell of mangoes. Seriously, those damned fruits seem to be following you, and you can never seem to escape them.

“Y/N! Hi! Welcome!” Soobin greets, ushering you into the room and grabbing you a seat, “We’re so happy to have you.”

It’s the next Thursday, a week after the dreaded daydream incident, and you’ve decided to show up to the broadcast meetings. You’ve been toying with the idea of joining ever since you walked into the room on Sunday, but it was Beomgyu’s insistence yesterday that really pushed you over the cliff of uncertainty.

“We have a lot of fun there. You don’t even have to speak on the morning announcements to be a part of it! We do much more than that, like run the newspaper and manage the yearbook. There’s a place for everyone, Y/N, you won’t regret joining.”

Even now, he waves warmly from the seat next to you. You’ve been talking frequently these days, partially because he’s in quite a few of your classes and partially because he’s part of a group chat Yeonjun added you to. He’s interesting to talk to and he always makes you laugh, and being around him makes you feel warm and fuzzy. Like your initial observance, he’s a little weird and goofy too, but it makes him all the more delightful.

You’re not crushing on him, of course. He’s a nice person to pass the time with during and after school. Besides, your friends at home are much better; he’s just a placeholder.

“Have some cake, Y/N!” Soobin insists, pushing a plate toward you, “It’s mango flavored!”

You smile hesitantly as you pick up the spoon and take a bite. It tastes good and you hate admitting it because mango is a good flavor; you just don’t like being reminded of the sentiment that comes along with it. You gaslight yourself into thinking it’s strawberry and finish the plate quickly, downing your water bottle straight after.

“Was it good?” Beomgyu asks, his voice a little hard to hear due to the conversations of next week’s script being tossed around behind him, “I got it from a bakery near my house. We actually have a snack at every club meeting, and this week was my turn to bring it.”

“Yeah, it was good. I’m just not really fond of mango,” you respond, already cringing at the words coming out of your mouth.

“You don’t like mango? Who doesn’t like mango?” Beomgyu voices, responding exactly how you expected him to.

“Me. I just don’t.”

Beomgyu drops the topic at your insistence and talks about the club instead, introducing you to some of the members. Taehyun, the boy from the announcements, is president, and Soobin is vice president. You learn that Beomgyu does a little bit of everything, and you try not to smile as he blushes when his friends list out his talents.

“Is Yeonjun not part of the club?” you ask after he’s introduced you to one of the many Jaehyuns part of the management team, “you guys seem to be good friends.”

“He was initially, but he has modeling lessons on Thursday so he can’t make it. He’s more like an honorary member, to be honest, but he helps us out a lot.”

You hum in agreement, meeting another Jaehyun (why are they all so attractive?) and rounding the corner to talk to Taehyun.

“I’ll leave you with Tae. He’ll help you figure out which team you’re best suited for.”

Taehyun pulls out a chair for you as Beomgyu walks away, and you can immediately see why he’s president. He’s a little reserved but he’s domineering, and he seems perfect for managing things behind and in front of the scenes.

“So, Y/N, did you have anything in mind when you were joining?”

“No, not really. I’m not very talkative though, and I don’t know how to handle a camera.”

“Yeah, Beomgyu also mentioned those things. I think you’ll be a good fit for the newspaper, based on first impression. Editors mostly work on the scripts and I think you’ll find it interesting. Come, I’ll introduce you to the head.”

He introduces you to Yunjin, the girl from your math class, and she helps you get the editing software and drive set up. Yunjin tells you that she’s the type of person who has a lot to say, and writing is a powerful outlet for her because it allows her to explore topics she’s passionate about. You don’t exactly know if you relate to her thought process, but it does make you feel a little excited.

“Is Beomgyu also part of the editing team?” you ask, mainly out of curiosity because you saw him revising the script on Sunday.

“Ah, kind of. He floats around between everything so I guess I could say that he is. Would you like to read some of his work?” she asks, pulling out a newspaper article from a stack in the corner, “Last issue, he wrote the front page spread dissing the school lunch menu. It might seem silly, but it was actually a huge hit, and honestly, the food has even gotten better since.”

You skim through the newspaper, and the interactive, colorful parts draw your gaze in. Elements like the pie chart, bolded words, and quotes make the article worth reading, and you can already tell from skimming the text that Beomgyu is a good writer. You flip through the rest, reading the story headlines and noting that some are serious, some are current, and some are merely just for entertainment. Even throughout the rest of the spreads, you can tell the writers put effort into making sure the newspaper is actually catered to the student population, and you can already imagine yourself publishing an issue of your own in the near future.

“Since you’re new, you can help Beomgyu out with his new piece. Let’s take things slow, okay?”

You nod, turning to face Beomgyu. You don’t know what’s going on in that fascinating mind of his, but you’re excited to find out.

It’s been a busy few weeks since you’ve moved here. Unfortunately, school doesn’t slow down time for you, so you’ve had to handle piles of schoolwork on top of adjusting to your new environment, at school, and at home. Your aunt, for one, is double the amount of hyper your parents were, and it’s taken you a while to get adjusted to her presence. At least you’ve had Yeonjun to help you out.

The one thing that you’ve actually looked forward to at school is the broadcast club. Taehyun was right about you fitting the editor role, and you’ve grown to fit in quite well with the other members. Mainly, however, you spend most of your time with Beomgyu, often looking over his shoulder and bouncing off ideas he has and grammatical errors he needs to fix. The issue is a little satirical, making it fun to read, and you’ve enjoyed helping him out because he actually values your input and your experiences.

It's the reason why he invited you to come to school on Sunday. He thought working in a quieter environment would help you two brainstorm better, and you agreed. You’ve been busy all week working on collecting student opinions for him, and today, he hopes you two can get a significant portion of the article complete.

Unlike the first Sunday you were here, the air conditioning is actually on now, but you still feel a little sweat prickling at the top of your forehead. You’re nervous because this is the first time you’ve actually been alone with Beomgyu, without anyone else nearby to mitigate your nerves. You’re scared about screwing up in front of him, or even worse, floating off into dreamland, but hopefully, you’ll be able to concentrate on your work and keep your thoughts at bay. If anything goes wrong, you can just blame it on his sweet voice.

You’re at least thankful Yeonjun hasn’t caught wind of how you two met, because he would never stop holding it over your head.

You knock three times on the blue door and Beomgyu pulls it open, wearing a bright grin on his face. He’s in a hoodie and sweats, a little bit more casual than his school attire, but somehow it just makes him more attractive. Combined with his dimples, he resembles a teddy bear, and you’re honestly surprised he hasn’t joined the modeling industry like your cousin. He’d make so much money as a loungewear model, you just know it.

“Hey, come in! I just got here, so I’ve been working on some scripts for the next week. You can get your stuff sorted while I finish.”

You nod, pulling the papers out of your bag and opening your laptop. Your mission for the week was to interview students regarding the article. You don’t know if he’ll like them, but hopefully, you’ve got some good anecdotes for Beomgyu to include in his writing.

Or, apparently not.

“Beomgyu.”

“Hmm?” he asks, looking up from his paper.

“I accidentally grabbed Yeonjun’s bag. I left the data at home, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe how stupid I am; how could I even forget something this important?”

“Hey, Y/N,”

“I just knew something was going to go wrong today, and I was so scared I was going to fuck things up and I did, and—”

“Y/N!”

You stop in your tracks, eyes wide and close to tears. You’re usually not this sensitive at all, but this means a lot to you, working with Beomgyu means a lot to you, and you don’t want to lose all of this over your stupidity and inattentiveness. However, Beomgyu looks far from angry, and he has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them to calm you down.

“It’s okay. You’re all good. We have so much more time until the deadline, so don’t beat yourself up, okay? We can just hang out and have fun. Look, I even brought you some mochi from the corner store!”

He shows you the packet, and the bright yellow color is enough to have you burst into tears.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, looking at the packet, “it’s mango flavored. Oh! You don’t like mango. I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind. Forgive me?”

You sniffle, bringing him into a hug. The mochi wrapper crinkles between you as you put your head on his shoulder, clutching onto him as a means to calm you down. Beomgyu stills for a moment, probably out of shock before patting your back, albeit awkwardly yet reassuring.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to have a breakdown like that. I just didn’t want you to hate me. And I’ll eat the mango mochi, don’t worry.”

“I could never hate you, Y/N.”

“You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks; how could you say that?”

“Because even in the short time I’ve known you, I can tell how much of an amazing person you are. You’re bright and talented, and I love spending time with you, so stop apologizing, okay? It was just an accident.”

“Okay, I will,” you whisper, stepping back, “So, what now?”

“We could finish the mochi, for starters.”

You nod as you open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s tasty, so much so that you hate it, and you’re honestly five seconds away from letting go of your stupid grudge just to enjoy some fresh mango. However, your parents have plagued you enough with the fruit on their phone calls, which seems to hold your desires back well enough.

You stand to your feet as Beomgyu beckons you to follow him, wanting to show you something. He lets you in through the small door leading to the glass panel room, and you’re immediately illuminated by the huge screens around you. So much technology surrounds you, from microphones to switches to headphones, but you’re more intrigued by the feedback noise that emits once Beomgyu twists a knob, similar to the one you heard when you first got here.

“Does it usually make that noise when you turn it on?” you ask, walking around the room.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit annoying. That’s why we have to keep it turned on before school starts.”

“I figured. I heard it when I came here with Yeonjun before my first day.”

Beomgyu turns to you with an expression of mild surprise.

“I think Soobin and I were here that day. You should’ve visited us.”

“We did. We talked to Soobin, but you were working on something so we didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Is that why you thought I was in your daydream the day after?”

You feel like you’re on fire, and you look away from him. You didn’t expect Beomgyu to be this perceptive, but it was probably your fault for walking straight into this.

“Umm. Yeah, kind of. It’s embarrassing,” you say, covering your face with your palms.

“It’s not,” he responds, tapping your shoulder, “it’s actually kind of cute. Now that you’re in this room with me again, will I be in another one of your daydreams? I loved feeling like a celebrity.”

You mentally shrivel in humiliation, cringing when he lets out a laugh. If Yeonjun is a tease, then Beomgyu is most definitely a menace.

You are extremely close to falling asleep.

Currently, you’re sunbathing on one of Yunjin’s many beach chairs. They’re colorful and the sun shines ever so gently on your face, so the setting is perfect for you to take a nap. Too bad you’re at a pool party and not in your backyard, and Yunjin just might murder you if you drift off to dreamland after all the hard work you’d put into setting things up.

It’s spring break, which means one whole week of warm sun rays and well-needed rest. The newest issue of the magazine was published yesterday, and particularly this time around, it seemed to be quite popular amongst the student population. The group decided to throw a party to celebrate all the hard work that’s gone into publishing, and what other location would it be at than Yunjin’s gigantic mansion?

You’re particularly proud of Beomgyu’s hard work because his spread was absolutely stunning, but he merely brushed it off and thanked you for helping him when you thanked him earlier. He can be calm and graceful like that at times, like a soft breeze. Now, however, you turn to your side to see him sipping a mocktail on the chair next to you, donned in sunglasses and shark-decorated swim shorts, the farthest thing from serene.

“What flavor is that?” you ask, your voice tinged with sleep, “Actually, never mind. It’s probably mango.”

He laughs, and it’s so, so pretty. If you had to pick one sound to hear for the rest of your life, you’d take your chances on that.

“It is, but it’s kind of watery. I’m gonna save it for later though,” he starts, turning to face the pool and pointing at Taehyun.

“What about him?” you ask, craning your head to see him lounging in the pool with a duck floatie.

“If I cannonball into the pool, just how drenched do you think he’ll be?”

Your cries are practically unheard as you watch Beomgyu jump into the pool, absolutely obliterating not only Taehyun but also poor, unsuspecting Soobin next to him. Ten minutes later, after receiving a well-deserved scolding from Taehyun and issuing apologies, Beomgyu slogs his way back to the chair on your left with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That was definitely worth it.”

“It definitely was not,” you counter, sitting up and leaning against the back, “you’re literally such a nuisance. If I had known you were this terrible, I would not have become friends with you.”

“I mean, you technically didn’t choose. You can’t really help who you daydream about, right?”

You’re glaring daggers into him, but he’s cruel enough to still find the situation funny. You can’t believe he’s trying to hold back laughter even in this situation, but you probably shouldn’t have expected any better. Seriously, how did he go from the sweet-talker broadcast boy to the literal devil?

“Watch your words, or I will slice you up as I did to all the mangoes in Fruit Ninja last week.”

“Woah, chill,” he starts, putting his sunglasses back on and taking a sip of his watery mocktail, “why do you even hate mangoes? You talk about them as if they were your exes.”

“My parents left me here to start a mango business in Thailand,” you say, picking at the skin next to your thumbnail and wincing when it hurts.

Beomgyu spits out his drink in alarm, but you kind of saw it coming. You’ve noticed that he tends to exaggerate things a lot, but you guess it’s just part of his personality.

“Wow, that genuinely sucks. I’m really sorry; I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“It’s okay. I don’t tell people because it’s only temporary. I might not even be here next year.”

Two months ago, you would’ve been happy at the thought. Now, however, even mentioning it brings a pang of sadness to your chest. You’ve known your time here was momentary all along, so why do you feel guilty?

“Are you happy?” he says, his voice a lot quieter now, “I mean, would you want to stay here or go back?”

You want to tell him what you think is logical, and logically, your old home was much better than here. You practically grew up there, and the place suits you so well that you’re meant to be there. However, the words that rush out of your heart speak differently.

“I honestly don’t know. I like it here, but I like it there too. I’ll just enjoy my time here before I leave. I still have a while anyway.”

Beomgyu flips to the other side, away from your gaze before he speaks. If you weren’t listening carefully, you might’ve not been able to hear his words.

“I don’t want you to leave. I like it when you’re here.”

He sounds so soft and clingy that it almost makes you cry. Instantly, you know that no one has ever cared enough to share the same sentiment back at your old house.

Home. You should’ve called it home, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. You used to think that home was a physical feeling, a place where you were raised and nurtured. Home before was the walls of the building you spend the most time in, but now, it feels a little different.

No, home isn’t your old house. It isn’t your new house either, even if the beige has grown quite well to your liking. Home is sitting here on this beach chair, surrounded by your closest friends, and the feelings of warmth that surround you all. Home is an emotion, something you’ve never felt in the past years of your life until you moved here. Home is being surrounded by people who want you, just because you’re you and not because it would be convenient.

“I like being here too,” you whisper back, and although he has his back turned to you, you can still feel his smile.

“Then just tell your parents you want to stay here.”

You can’t tell him that your mindset has made you feel that this is all temporary. Ever since you moved here, you’ve felt like a ticking bomb, waiting for a single phone call to determine your fate. Once, you would’ve been able to answer that it’s where you belong. Now, you seem to question if it’s merely just an obligation.

“It’s not that simple, Beomgyu.”

He sighs, and as he turns back around to face you, you drape an arm over your eyes. You don’t want to feel the intensity of his glare, but even without your vision, you feel his eyes shooting daggers into your abdomen. If only life were as easy as being able to sense Beomgyu’s responses, for you would’ve been sipping margaritas on some island with your talents.

“Isn’t it? Or maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating it.”

You sigh, unwilling to answer, and the conversation falls to a standstill. You hate thinking, especially about this, but eventually, Beomgyu’s words are going to catch up to you. Whatever the implications of this conversation are, you’re sure you won’t enjoy them.

Not one bit.

You’re walking home with Beomgyu a couple of days after break has ended, an unfamiliar scene for you. Usually, Yeonjun drives you home in his shiny car, but he had to stay back for some tutoring today and you were left ride-less. Thankfully, Beomgyu swooped in to save the day, saying he’d keep you company since he knew the route. You’d accepted quite freely, definitely because you didn’t want to rely on Google Maps and not because you liked spending time with him.

Spring is in full season, which means the walk home is filled with greenery and a lush breeze. You feel like something out of a Studio Ghibli movie, but as you turn to look at Beomgyu, you realize he’s more aptly fitted for the scenario.

His hair is fluttering slightly through the wind, and his side profile is so perfect that only an animation artist could’ve crafted it. Beautiful is the only word to describe him, and each glance you take becomes increasingly hard to look away from.

You like him. It’s not a realization that’s come from this moment, but rather a million moments beforehand. Whenever you try to pinpoint an exact moment, your mind runs blank, as if you were pre-programmed to have him in your heart since the beginning of your existence. You’d just been so immersed in convincing yourself that you didn’t that you never really accepted you did.

“Y/N,” you hear from his lips, “are you going to the spring dance?”

The spring dance is next week, and it’s all everyone has been talking about lately, especially Yunjin. Honestly, if the Jung Jaehyun asked you out (yes, you can finally differentiate between the multiple Jaehyuns), you wouldn’t shut up about it either, but you don’t have any interest in it otherwise. The only updates you hear are when you don’t tone out Yunjin in math (there’s only so much you can hear about his features), and you’re growing quite sick of the talk.

Mainly though, you’re just annoyed you have to go without a date. A certain someone always pops up in your mind when you think about the event, but you’re too shy to ask and he seems to be preoccupied with other things. Even if it’s going just as friends, you’d take the chance, but it doesn’t seem in your cards for the near future.

“Yeonjun is forcing me to. I’d much rather spend my Friday nights with a show, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, come on!” he protests, shaking his head, “it’s always super fun. You won’t regret coming.”

“I guess, but I don’t really know who to go with. Yeonjun has a date, and I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

Beomgyu fishes something out of his pockets and holds it out to you. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a rectangular mango drink, and you raise an eyebrow.

“I know, I know, but it’s still driving me crazy that you hate mango. I want to be the person that changes your opinion on it, okay? Whenever you think of mango, don’t think of your parents, think of me!”

You roll your eyes as you grab the drink and punch the straw in. You don’t want to admit it, but the gesture is sweet, and already your negative thinking is rewriting itself to include positive memories with Beomgyu.

“Whatever,” you say, attempting to take a sip out of the straw only to find it stuck, “is there something wrong with your straw? Mine isn’t working.”

“No, there isn’t,” he replies, confusion settling across his face, “is it blocked? There might be something inside.”

Sure enough, you peek through the hole to see something white stuck in the straw, and you try your hardest to pull it out with your fingers. The texture is a little rough and thin, almost paper-like, but sadly you fail to get it out.

“Can you actually not get it out?” he asks, looking worried.

“Yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll just get another straw after I get home.”

“This cannot be happening right now.” he mutters, grabbing it from you and trying his hardest to squeeze out the object, “Of course I fucked this up.”

“Beomgyu, it’s okay. Relax. It’s not that big of a deal,” you respond, trying to calm him down after seeing him get this worked up, “it’s just a drink.”

“But it’s not! Ugh,” he says, frustrated as he pulls out his phone, “you were supposed to be able to pull out the paper.”

“What are you talking about?”

He passes over his phone to you, and there’s a picture of a small piece of paper on it. When you zoom in to get a better look at the writing on it, you gasp.

“It takes two to mango, so will you be my partner?” you read out loud, looking at Beomgyu.

He smiles awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re asking me to be your date for the dance? Oh my god, yes!”

You hug him tightly, pressing your head into the crook of his shoulder. You don’t know if his intentions behind this are friendly or romantic, but the mere thought of being together, even just for a night, has you reeling. You feel so, so giddy as if you’re already on the dance floor and swaying in his arms.

You feel him sigh in relief, hugging you back.

“I’m so sorry I fucked up everything. It was supposed to be super cute—”

“Don’t worry about it. Even if you just asked me the question, I would’ve been happy. It was so creative though; how’d you come up with it?”

“I, um. I searched it up,” he replies, and you hear the bashfulness in his voice, “I just wanted it to be meaningful enough to us. I know that it’s unoriginal, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Even just you researching to find something this creative is meaningful to me.” you answer honestly, “I’m saving that straw forever, I swear.”

He laughs, and you feel his chest vibrate against you. It’s a comforting feeling, one you’ll hopefully experience at the dance next week.

“I’m so excited. I can’t wait,” he whispers, pulling you in a little tighter.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, holding onto him, “Me too.”

The dance is a little lame, but being here with Beomgyu makes it worthwhile.

Seriously, if you’d come alone, you probably would’ve ended up sitting in the corner and munching on the brownies (they’re actually tasty, you can’t even deny it). However, Beomgyu has made it his personal mission for you to have fun, which is why he pulls you onto the dance floor to vibe with the beat of the song.

“This is so high school,” you mutter, feigning annoyance, “what song even is this?”

“I think it’s ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’ by TXT.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“Who cares? Stop being a downer and let loose a little.”

Contrary to your dislike, you do end up dancing. The song has a peppy beat and the two of you lose yourself in it, but even as you forget all of what occupies your brain, Beomgyu still remains in your head.

You’ll never forget the sparkling expression on his face when he saw your outfit as he picked you up from your house or the way he turned up your favorite song as you sped along to the venue. You would pay a million dollars just to relive that moment again, laughing at each other’s singing and enjoying each other’s company, but you realize that you don’t need to experience past moments with Beomgyu when he constantly makes better memories with you. With Beomgyu, you like living in the present, and he makes you forget about special days in the past you had coined as ‘the best day ever’ because nothing could compare to the feeling of being by his side like this.

The song ends, leaving you all woozy and excited, but the feelings quickly shift away when a much slower beat starts playing. You don’t even have to ask for the song name, because Beomgyu is already whispering it into your ear.

“’Fairy of Shampoo’ by the same artist. They’re pretty good, right?”

You move to nod, but the action is long forgotten as Beomgyu wraps his arms around your waist. He’s staring you in the eyes, a silent request for permission, and your response is wrapping your arms around his neck in a similar manner. You sway, and Beomgyu follows your lead, but this time around, the only thing you’re losing yourself in is his eyes.

The soft, angelic singing and chatter around you are muffled as if everyone in the room has disappeared except you and Beomgyu. You’re in a trance, with the perfect feeling of his arms around you as if they were always meant to be there. It’s so easy to will yourself away from everything to focus his gaze that you should be concerned, but one look at his eyes can confirm he’s in the same boat.

Maybe friends can ask each other out to dances. Maybe friends can slow-dance together. However, you find it hard to believe friends can look each other like this in the eyes and pretend they don’t feel anything.

Before you know it, the air grows hazy, and the only thing that makes your vision clearer is leaning in closer to Beomgyu. Or maybe that’s what’s making you crazy in the first place, but you don’t care because you’re trapped in the magnetic pull he emits that drives you closer, and closer, and closer. You’re close enough to notice the small moles on his cheek and the faint cologne he wears that smells like jasmine. You can’t even tell if you’re moving anymore because the only action you’re focused on is the fluttering of his eyelashes and the pursing of his lips.

It takes your brain a while to register what he says next because his voice is husky enough to be covered by the music, but the mere fact that his voice dropped three octaves has your mind spinning.

“Do you want this as badly as I do?”

Your throat is so parched you can’t even speak, but you don’t need words to imply what you want. You nod, the tiniest nod that if he wasn’t so focused, he wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes are solely on you and that’s enough confirmation for him. The last thing you see is him leaning dangerously close before your eyes flutter shut, but the moment is ruined as your phone rings from your pocket and startles you both.

You fumble with the device as he clears his throat, leaning back, and with wide eyes, you see that it’s your mother calling. You’re cursing her mentally for calling at the worst possible time, but one look at Beomgyu has him motioning you off the dance floor.

“Take it; it’s probably important. I’ll be right here.”

You smile tightly before rushing off the dance floor, finding a place near the entrance that’s much quieter than the center. From this position, you have a straight view of Beomgyu in the middle, but you’re blocked by a sea of people surrounding him. It reminds you just how many obstacles you have between each other, and you mentally berate yourself for being so careless and almost kissing him before answering the phone.

“Hello? Mom?”

“Oh honey, hi! Your Auntie told me you were at some school dance, are you having fun?”

“I am,” you whisper back, just now realizing how much you miss your parents sending you off to these dances, “but I miss you a lot.”

“Actually, I called you about that!”

“What do you mean?”

“Our business here is doing so well that another company wants to buy us and give us a huge amount of shares. This means we can move back home and still make a profit!”

Your mom goes on about the logistics, but all you hear is white noise ringing through your ears. You knew this moment would creep up on you, but you just didn’t expect it so suddenly, especially after sharing such an intimate moment with Beomgyu. God, Beomgyu. How can you even begin to tell him?

“Mom, I have to go.”

“Of course, you must be busy! I’ll call you later, okay?”

Your fingers shake as you cut the call, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. The room feels hazy once again, but this time, it feels suffocating. Your cheeks feel hot and you have no idea what to do, and all you can feel is Beomgyu’s gaze staring at you from across the room, boring into your eyes. All you can think is that he knows, and he hates you, and he’s going to feel so betrayed—

“Y/N? Are you okay?” you hear, and Yeonjun steps in front of you, blocking the connection between you and your crush.

“I- I need to go home. Please.”

You’re glad Yeonjun knows when to not be a nuisance, because all he does is nod wordlessly and clasp your palm, leading you to the car. You’re thankful that your cousin is actually a nice person deep down because he’s ditching his date and dropping his many it-boy moments just to take you home and let you cry on his shoulder. You try so, so hard not to look back because you know you’ll break down, but you can’t help what your heart wants. As you turn and make eye contact with Beomgyu, you see his confused and betrayed expression as he pushes past the people on the dance floor, but the crowd is too large, and he’s stuck between the masses. It’s bitter how these people once reminded you of obstacles, and now they’re exactly that, but you’re thankful because you’re sure you won’t be able to stop the tears if he talks to you right now.

As Yeonjun whisks you away in the dreary night, all you can hope is that Beomgyu remembers only the good moments between you, and not the worst. Maybe one day, just one, you hope he’ll forgive you, even though you know that you’ll never forgive yourself.

You have no heart to even attempt the history homework sitting on your desk.

It’s only been a week, but you feel like you went through five years of trauma from it alone. If it weren’t for Yeonjun, you would’ve locked yourself in your room the whole week and finished a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you showed up to class every day, draped in an oversized hoodie and making no means of eye contact with anyone. Any time you encountered Beomgyu, you tried your hardest to avoid it, even going as far as bargaining with your teacher to switch seats in history.

The only person you even talked to this week was your cousin. He was the only person you could confide in, probably because he was the only one who truly understood your current predicament. It’s silly, depending so much on the person who could use this as blackmail at any moment, but you have to say you’re a little grateful for him dragging you to school in the morning instead of leaving you to allow in the four walls of your bedroom.

However, even the motivation from Yeonjun can’t stop your bleeding heart. You feel like you’re going through hell and back, and with exams coming up your mind just isn’t in the right place. How long are you going to keep your homework sheets sitting on your table void of pencil markings? Even the mere act of reading the instructions has you tired, and all you can do is rest your head against the table and try not to let your thoughts drift off.

Even this homework reminds you of him. It reminds you of how you would goof off during your lectures, texting each other through the crevices of your desk, or how you would sit for long hours in the library and attempt to study, kicking each other’s feet beneath the table. Even now, you can hear him knocking on the door, asking you to open up and talk.

“Y/N, it’s Beomgyu!”

Okay, maybe that part isn’t your imagination.

Why is he even here? What business would he even want with you after you’ve wronged him so much? Your mind has no idea, but the only thing you’re listening to is your heart as you pull open the door and take in his presence.

He looks beautiful, like always. His existence is something that you want to cuddle into a ball and put in your pocket, yours to keep and cherish forever because he is simply the word soft personified. Today, however, he sports dark circles under his eyes and a paler shade of skin. What has made your teddy bear so sad? Is it your doing?

“Hi,” you whisper, and your hands itch to reach out and wrap him in a tight hug.

“Yeonjun told me what happened. I wanted to give you some space, but it’s torture without you.”

Now you’re confused. Why is he showing up at your door and giving you comfort? Isn’t he the one who has been wronged this whole time?

“You mean, you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be? It’s not your fault you need to move back. Sure, I’m sad about it, but this isn’t something you can control, right?”

Now, nothing stops you or your conscience as you wrap your arms around him, furrowing into his familiar scent as tears escape your eyes. You’ve done a lot of hugging recently, but this time, it feels like an eternity has gone by. You never want to let go of him or this moment, and you can even feel your mind memorizing every aspect of this moment.

You guess Beomgyu makes you feel that way. Mind and heart combined, with no conflict.

“You always know what to say,” you point out, sniffling.

“I’d hope so; I have to do it every Monday.”

You laugh, although it’s choked and dry from your crying, but as your head moves, you hear a crinkle from his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, um,” he starts, grabbing the object out of his pocket, “they’re mango popsicles. I was going to try and bargain with you if this didn’t work out.”

“Hmm, well, I’m not really convinced yet,” you joke, motioning him to follow you and sit on your bed as he rolls his eyes.

Silence ensues for the next couple of seconds as you both open the wrappers and enjoy the delicacy. The flavor doesn’t even bother you anymore, because now when you think of mango, you think of Beomgyu. You think of his sweetness, his humor, and his bright sunshine personality that matches the color of the delightful fruit.

“Oh, Y/N, you have some juice dripping down your chin,” Beomgyu notices, pointing to the area.

“Where, here?” you ask, patting the left side and feeling its dryness, “or a little higher?”

“No, I- here,” he says, leaning closer with his thumb and brushing off the liquid.

You want to thank him, but as you look up into his eyes, you realize how imperceptibly close you two are. Suddenly, you’re thrust back to a week ago when you were in his arms, leaning into each other until you could feel his breath upon yours, but this time, there’s nothing stopping you. No phone, no crowd, and most importantly, no insecurities come between you two now, and your mind is clear as you lean in and latch your lips upon his.

If you were unsure of what mango meant to you before, you’re definitely sure it will remind you of Beomgyu now, because all you can taste is the mango on his lips. It’s like your mind has gone into overdrive as you move closer, and you can vaguely register him using his free hand to palm the back of your head and tilt it up. The atmosphere doesn’t feel hazy anymore; instead, it feels shy and awkward, as if you were two lovers learning the world together. Like everything with Beomgyu, it feels right, just so right, and you never want to leave because you are his wholeheartedly, and he is yours.

Until you register what’s happening, of course.

You pull away quickly, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Beomgyu’s lips are puffy, and you’re sure yours must mimic a similar appearance, but that’s the least of your worries.

“Beomgyu, I—”

“I love you,” he breathes out, and his voice is light and airy as if he can’t hold in the words anymore, “I love you so much that it kills me you’re leaving. I don’t know how to fix this pain, but what I can say is that I’ll try my hardest to be by your side. Every day I’ve spent with you has been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and being without you this past week has made me realize how much light will disappear from my life if you leave. I’ll take you in any way you’ll let me, even if it’s through late-night calls or sparse texts. Please be mine, please.”

He's begging you now, holding your hands within his and clutching tightly, but even the words you want to say are trapped in your throat. You can’t do it to him. You can’t force him to love you thousands of miles away and look forward to you when he has a whole future ahead of him. You may be burdened by the ghosts of your past, but he isn’t, and you can’t deprive him of the one thing that makes himself him: his sunshine.

“I’m so sorry Beomgyu. I can’t put you in that position.”

Even the tears that once hesitated to fall now escape freely as he nods, cradling your cheek. After all that’s happened, he’s still so understanding, and even though he has a tight smile on his face, he keeps on a brave front for you.

“I knew you would say that. It’s okay, we can just enjoy the last of our days together.��

“Don’t hold yourself back for me, alright?” you whisper, wiping the stray tears that you don’t want him to see.

He notices the tear stains on your cheeks anyway, wiping the wetness with the pads of his thumbs. You notice he doesn’t respond, but at this point, he doesn’t need to. Even though you’ve warned him against it, you know without a doubt that he’ll always be waiting for you, even with all your uncertainty.

The last bell of the year rings, but as your classmates bustle around you with joy and laughter, you don’t know what to feel.

Moving is a funny concept. You leave behind everything you know just to start anew, but unlike most people, you’ve finally gotten the chance to go back to the past. Your old friends, your old family, your old life. Months ago, you would’ve jumped for this opportunity, as many others would in your situation, but now you’re experiencing a bittersweet emotion. You can’t even deny it: this place has had a tremendous impact on you through the experiences it put you through, the people it made you meet, and the emotions it caused you to feel. Even just thinking about going away leaves a pang in your heart, but you suppose life is about these occurrences, whether they’re sad or happy, and you’ll just have to persevere through it like you always do.

You’re walking out to the parking lot when Beomgyu joins you. You’ve still been talking even after the dreaded incident weeks ago, especially since you studied together for exams, but your relationship since you rejected him hasn’t been the same. It’s like you’re tiptoeing around with each other, waiting for one another to break, but you’ve already broken before so you don’t know why it feels so fragile. Maybe it’s the tension in the air around your departure or the lack of definition within your relationship, but either way, it feels suffocating.

At least you’re grateful he hasn’t shut you out yet.

“So, how was your last day of school?” you hear, but this time you focus your eyes on the ground instead.

It feels too weird to look at him. It’s like you don’t have permission to admire his beauty anymore, so you rarely ever make eye contact with him. Instead, you focus on the gum he’s chewing, the one you know is mango-flavored but always so bitter. Maybe it was a sign you two were never meant to be.

“It was good. You know, tiring as always, but I’m glad it’s over.”

“Yeah, I get it. Are you going back home soon?”

Honestly, your parents haven’t been super transparent with you, but from their calls, you assume that you still have well into the summer before you move out. They sound busy wrapping up things, and they haven’t given you an exact date, but they have promised you they’ll be here soon. Like all things in your life, even your parting is uncertain, and that’s what you tell him.

“So, what I hear is that I can still terrorize you over the summer.”

You laugh, but it’s forced and uneasy. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but honestly, you’ve gotten a little too used to it by now.

“I guess you could, Gyu.”

He stops you in your tracks by stepping in front of you.

“Look, I know we’re a little awkward right now, but I feel like I have to say this, or I’ll never get the chance. I’m so honored to have been your friend, and I’m going to miss you a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I’m sorry for putting you in so many awkward situations, but I hope you can remember the good parts when you think of me.”

You sigh, patting his head. If you were on good terms with him, you would’ve gifted him a hug, but you hope the small gesture can do your feelings enough justice.

“I’m gonna miss you too. A lot a lot,” you mimic, watching him smile, “so text me often, okay? I’m sorry for making things awkward too.”

He shakes his head, willing to argue in your favor, but before he can even start a car horn sounds from the parking lot. You crane your head to see a familiar vehicle, one that’s accompanied you throughout your lifetime, except this time, it’s adorned with a painted mango on the side.

“Mom? Dad?”

Your parents step out of the car, and your legs are moving you towards them before you can even register it. Video calls don’t do their beautiful faces any justice, and it feels so surreal as you stop in front of them, waiting for them to just be a figment of your imagination.

“Hey, sweetie,” your dad says, and that’s all it takes before you’re leaning into his touch, burrowing yourself into him as you would often do when you were a little kid.

You forgot how much pain you felt when they left you here. All this time, you’ve suppressed it, and only at night when you were in your room, half-asleep and overthinking, did you let your tears come to bay. You wanted to be strong for them because everything they did was for you, but it was hard not to lose sight of their eventual return and get lost in the lifeless emotions associated with their disappearance every waking day that passed. It took every ounce of strength in you to pick yourself up every day and pretend like you were fine, but although there were many factors that helped you mitigate those feelings, none of them could truly ever make the ache ebb away.

“Why are you here? I thought it would be a while,” you ask after you’ve calmed down and properly reunited with them, “are we moving back soon?”

“Actually, about that… we’ve changed our minds a little bit.”

Your mom holds your face in her palms, pinching at the skin on your cheek ever so slightly.

“Your aunt told us how happy you are here, and how you’ve grown so much from moving here. I know that losing your parents so suddenly must’ve had a huge impact on you, but if this place helped you with those struggles even just a little bit, then it must be worth staying here. We thought that you might like it if we stayed here permanently. What do you think?”

You can’t believe it. It’s as if the world has deafened and all you can hear is the ringing echoing through your ears because what they’re saying sounds too good to be true. Moving here? Permanently? Is life playing some sort of cruel joke on you?

“You aren’t joking, right?” you whisper, and all your parents can do is laugh as they shake their heads.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes as you die, but right now, all that flashes through your eyes are the memories you’ve made in your seemingly short time here. You remember sitting shotgun in Yeonjun’s car as he annoyed you on the way to school, texting Yunjin during math while you two try not to fall asleep, and teaming up with Taehyun while wreaking havoc on poor Soobin.

However, most importantly, you remember Beomgyu. From the curve of his lips to the rings on his fingers, from the walks home you’ve shared to your first and last kiss in your very bedroom, he’s always been with you wholeheartedly. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since that very first day when the boy with dark curls caught your watercolor eyes, and for the foreseeable future, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop.

When you turn to look back at him, he’s there. He’s always there, waiting for you no matter how far you go. Even if he is just a speckle in the distance, just the size of an atom, you are his nucleus and he revolves around you, chasing you until he breaks down into a black hole of nothing. Even now, as you stare at him from the parking lot, one look at you tells him everything he needs to know. He’s here, here before your eyes in a matter of seconds, and as your parents ask him who he is, you know that only the most perfect boy would respond with such a beautiful answer as he directly addresses you.

“I’m whoever you want me to be.”

You shake your head, unable to hide the smile that flits across your face. After a long, long time of shying away from Beomgyu, you’re finally ready to embrace the feelings he brings you, whether tears or smile lines.

“This is Beomgyu, my lover.”

Your bedroom is still bare with your whole life packed into boxes once again, but at least this time around, your walls are painted yellow again. However, instead of a sunny yellow, they’re more of a mango color, your mom going even as far as to say it’s the exact same hue as the mangoes they grew in Thailand, fresh and ripe. Honestly, you’re just glad you’re not sitting within the depressing beige color again, because why did you even convince yourself it made you happy?

What’s not fresh is the old carpet you and your boyfriend are sitting on, but sometimes you can appreciate the old things too. In fact, it’s somewhat comfortable as you lie in his arms, sprawled across the carpet with no looming future dangling over your head. It’s just you, your other half, and nothing more, enjoying your well-deserved summer break weeks after school has ended.

“I’m not ready for school,” you complain, liking the feeling of being illuminated by the bright sun peeking through your blinds, “I like sitting around doing nothing. Imagine how hectic it would’ve been if I actually moved back.”

Your statement is only half-true though, because there are many things awaiting you once school starts that you’re actually very excited for. For starters, you get to have your own article published in the newspaper, and you have a slight inkling as to what it’s going to be about. Also, you have many wonderful friends who will make your life a lot easier, so even though school is school, at least you’ll have amazing people by your side. Really, you’re just complaining for no reason.

“I’m just glad we won’t have to throw you a farewell party. I don’t think Taehyun or Soobin would’ve let me near Yunjin’s pool again.”

You smack his chest lightly, and he laughs, curling in closer to lay your head against his chest. You really should be unpacking your things, at least, that’s what you told your parents you’d be doing, but you can’t pass up the chance to cuddle with Beomgyu every time you get it. You both have been pining for each other for far too long anyway, so why waste any more time?

“Y/N!” you hear from outside the door, “I brought you food!”

You get up to let your mom in, but Beomgyu is already five steps ahead of you. Your mom gives him a warm smile because seemingly, your parents seem more smitten with him than you are. You can’t really blame them though; who doesn’t like Choi Beomgyu?

“Thank you for the mango, auntie!” he responds, and of course, the endearment has her reeling.

“I thought you two would be hungry after working hard,” she says, leaning over to peek through the gap between him and the door, “but it seems you two have done nothing at all. Oh well, you can eat it anyway. You have all the time in the world.”

You two really do, because as you make yourselves cozy on the carpet once more, bowls of mango in hand, it feels like time has taken a pause after all the misery it has put you through. You eat the slices wholeheartedly as you think, with Beomgyu brushing off the juice that escapes your mouth occasionally when the piece is too big. You’re glad that time is moving slowly because you want to savor every moment you have with him. He deserves it, and so do you.

“We should really start setting things up,” Beomgyu starts, “How long are you going to sleep with just four yellow walls and no decoration? That would be so depressing.”

“Hey, at least it’s less depressing than beige walls,” you grumble, “but even just being here makes me content enough to fall asleep. I have nothing to worry about this time around, especially when you’re just five minutes or a phone call away.”

Mere seconds pass before he’s leaning in to place a kiss on your lips, and of course, everything about him tastes extremely mango. Your malice for the fruit is far gone now, far, far gone because not only are your parents back, but also because Beomgyu is the only thing you think about when reminded of the flavor. However, your rollercoaster feelings for the fruit are the last thing on your mind as you lean in closer, placing the mango bowl beside you.

“You still hate mango, baby?” he whispers between kisses, and it takes everything in you to pull him back, reminding him that you two are supposed to be unpacking and not making out.

“Answer the question,” he whines, a cute little pout on his face that makes you five seconds away from forgetting your very own warning and kissing him breathless again.

“No, I don’t,” you finally answer, grabbing his hand and interlacing it with yours, “I love it now.”

He grins, and you decide to succumb to your desires, forgetting all sense of rationality when it comes to him as you press a kiss to his lips again.

“I love mango just as much as I love you.”

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gelpensoncomics · 9 months

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Guy Gardner: A Study of Heroes and Head Trauma

SO! It's July, which is disability pride month here in the United States where I live! I figured it would be appropriate to kick things off by talking about a character who has a mixed reputation, to say the least: Guy Gardner, Green Lantern. He's been around since the Silver Age of comics, and his characterization has been through some serious ups and downs over the years! But what if I told you that it's not inconsistent writing? What if I told you there is a lens with which to view his shifting behavioral patterns and at times abrasive and offensive personality that makes it all come into focus and make perfect sense, and it's all already there on the page? I'm here to give you that lens, and it's viewing Guy Gardner as a man who has suffered multiple traumatic brain injuries and managed to heal over time. Buckle up, this is probably going to be a long one, and it's pretty image heavy as I try to back up as much as I am claiming that I can.

So the first thing I will start with is establishing Guy's former baseline. This is not the post where I will go incredibly in-depth on Guy's full family history and his education, I'll save that for another time. Here, I simply aim to sum up. Guy Gardner met Hal Jordan for the first time in the 1991 title Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn, a volume that served as an updated backstory for the Silver Age hero after Crisis on Infinite Earths. Hal was in prison to serve a 90 day sentence for drunk driving. Guy Gardner was Hal Jordan's caseworker.

"What? Huh? That's Guy Gardner?" You, the hypothetical reader ask. What happened to him?!

A lot. A lot happened to him, and it took him from a man who gave the advice to "Use your rage! Don't let it use you!" to a man who is known as the rude angry ginger lantern. First off, he got hit by a bus. No, I'm not being metaphorical or making a joke. See, he quit his job as a prison case worker because he didn't like how the job made him feel, especially after he was caught up in a prison riot and threatened with death at the hands of a prisoner there. So he put his second degree to use and he became a teacher. Specifically, he became a physical education teacher for disabled children.And then there was an earthquake, and he was hit by a bus while attempting to rescue one of the students on a field trip he was running, nearly dying in the process.

Now, I will say: he got better. This time. See, no sooner had he recovered from this incident, as he was filling in for Hal as Green Lantern he was exploded in the line of duty and sent to a parallel dimension. In that parallel dimension he was tortured, and Sinestro used a dangerous and severe form of mind control that, when it was finally broken, left Guy... well, the comics call him comatose, but he is conscious, he is just not responsive to the environment around him or able to care for himself.

For years, he remained in this state, with his care at a top-notch hospital paid for by fellow superheros. And then, during the Crisis on Infinite Earths event, a miracle happened. Guy regained consciousness.

But the Guy who came out of that vegetative state wasn't the same man who fell into it. Or at least, not exactly. He was angrier. His fuse was shorter. Perhaps most upsetting of all, one of the first actions he took upon regaining consciousness was attempted grave robbery.

"Gelpens, what the fuck," you ask me. I know. It's a lot. Bear with me here. See, he didn't wake up on his own. The Guardians of Oa woke him up, using their tremendous cosmic powers to attempt to heal his brain damage so they could deploy him to help during the Crisis.

Sure, Guy got his strength back. He was able to function as a Green Lantern. But he still wasn't the same as he was before his coma. He stayed angry, and confrontational, and was frequently known to make inappropriate comments that failed to fit the setting he was in or the bounds of good taste. He had a constant chip on his shoulder, very different from the man who was concerned about controlling his anger so it couldn't use him.

This all came to a head in a series of events that is frankly infamous in comics circles. Almost every fan I know of who knows Guy Gardner knows about the time Batman got fed up with his confrontational rude attitude and laid him out with a single punch to the face.

The thing people don't remember about that punch is that, seeing as it was the 90s, and comics writers had learned a few things about the brain, they decided to use it to make... let's call it a running joke. See, after Guy regained consciousness, he was much more like the guy he was before all that head trauma. He was polite, cared about being a team player and not trying to prove himself, he didn't go for lethal force!

Of course, this didn't last. No, the whole 'joke' here was that Batman punched him hard enough to rattle his brain, and he would occasionally jump from being a sweet, friendly team player to, in the words of the narration box the first time he got hit on the head again, his new old "thoroughly rotten" self (I know). Slowly but surely though, Guy did get better, and start to stay better. His mood stabilized, he gained more self-control, he started making better plans and he was much less angry as a default. And it's kept going! This train keeps chugging along! He isn't so angry anymore! He has it under control!

And honestly? This moment, right here? This is the crowning jewel in my thesis, I think.

Guy has a Red Lantern ring and a Star Sapphire ring. For those of you less familiar with the extended Green Lantern lore, the Red Lanterns run off rage. The Star Sapphires are powered by love. Outside of willpower, the emotions that are the most powerful within him are his rage and anger, and his love for his friends. And what does he fuel them with, when it comes down to the wire? When willpower alone isn't enough? The thing he hates most is being filled with rage. The thing he loves the most is his friends.

So. I don't think Guy was ever just an angry, sexist, rude asshole at his core. Is he the same as he was before the injury, before all that happened to him? Of course not. Nobody goes through life completely unchanged by what happens to them.

I think he injured his brain and lost his ability to regulate his emotions and impulses for a while. The road to recovery was far from smooth. It just took him some time to heal and be in a place to act like the man he wanted to be all along. But in my opinion? I think he's there now.

#guy gardner #dc comics #green lantern #disability #dc #gl #meta

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waynewifey · 9 months

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aftermath — b.w

part one - ‘dear mr. wayne’

part two - ‘aftermath’

part three. - ‘aporia’

summary: you escaped that warehouse, but part of you died in there. now, your husband helps you grief your own loss while trying to not murder your relationship.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: drama & angst romance

warnings: mentions of sex and alcohol; mentions of ptsd, anxiety and it’s symptoms; hospital setting; dubious science; dubious law enforcement

word count: 2.9k

A/N: thank you for all the positive feedback on part 1! there will be a part three because this post would get too long, so let me know if you’ll like to be tagged in that. my biggest challenge writing this was trying to give bruce the start of a redemption arc, please tell me if you think it worked. comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!

gotham, USA.

the continuous beeping sound wakes you up.

your eyes are still closed, blocking the intense light over your head. your senses are taken by the familiar scent: sandalwood, cinnamon and lemongrass soap. it almost feels like you're home.

but your feet are senseless from the cold and the bedsheets faintly smell like chlorine. there's a pinching ache in your arm and the scenario is complete. oh how you hate hospitals.

"how are you feeling?" back at home, bruce had learned the difference in your breathing as you woke up, which made pretending to sleep hard enough for you to give up. you open your eyes, finding yourself in a luxurious room. if it wasn't for the IV on your left side, it could easily be mistaken for a five star hotel.

bruce sat at a large light green armchair, about four feet from your left hand. you couldn't tell by his voice, but he looked exhausted. for once, he's wearing sweatpants. the puffy face and swollen eyes show he hasn't had much sleep. you, on the other hand, feel like you've slept for a thousand years.

"i have no idea. what's up with me?" his sigh has your heart racing and the fear of being a liability falls over you. a comforting hand lays on yours, his warms fingers grounding you to remember the last time you were awake. it felt like a nightmare and you desperately hoped it was. instead, the pain comes in flashes, the image of your husband being shot and the feeling of hitting ice cold water do too. it's all just so horrible you wish it wasn't real.

"they told me you were going to be fine, but i don't know." bruce feels as if a burden has come off his chest finally seeing you move. the last couple of days have been a torture of expectation and blame for him. "the doctor had you in an induced coma. you had a concussion on the river. your stomach was stitched up. he said..." he stops for a moment, this is obviously way too hard for him to go through again. bruce hasn't left the room ever since he was discharged. everyday, for two weeks, he kept overthinking the night before and the day during. if he had stayed up and talked about your relationship, you wouldn't be in that bed. if he looked for you in the morning, if he noticed your absence at work, if he hadn't put his phone on silent mode... there were a million of things that he could've done different so the most important person in his world wouldn't have gone through all of that. "he said the ptsd would worsen your recovery. this morning the nurses told me you were better, so i have to believe them. that's my only hope."

you need a moment to take in the words, finally deciding that you didn't want to discuss your health. there were way better people to pay attention to that in the building and it would only make you anxious. you can't help but stare at his eyes, your mind bringing up the image of your husband choking the man that kept you hostage.

"you almost killed him." the tone is of disapproval, bruce couldn't be any more confused. he frowns. bile arises from his stomach leaving a acid taste to his mouth.

"i would've, of course i would. y/n, you had no idea what i would do for you. i would fight the devil himself if it meant keeping you safe. that's why i do what i do. the batman, the politics, it's all for you. if i can make this world 1% better for you, for our children, to live on, it's worth it." his gulp is loud, adam's apple going up and down, showing how dry his throat was. the following words have his voice shaking, almost disappearing. "but fate keeps telling me that i'm not enough. no matter what i do, you keep getting hurt and i just-" bruce stares the floor. that's something he always did when saying harsh things, avoiding eye contact and not letting tears slip away. however, this time it doesn't work at all. he can hear his heart tearing up with every syllable, the physical pain striking his chest. he wants to beg you to forgive him, but there is a noble thing to do. his words are cut off by the creaking of the door and the doctor's footsteps. he's smiling, like this isn't hell. bruce shrinks into the couch, making himself ignorable.

"so... i have good news!" the blonde says, clipboard in hand. "we need to run some other tests and an x-ray, but you seem to be healing pretty well. we'll hold you in for a couple of days just to make sure there aren't any complications with your body and then you can go home. how are you feeling so far?"

you're surprised by the sudden change in the conversation and your brain needs a moment to think about something helpful. you do a body scan trying to identify any pain, but overall you feel good.

"hungry. like, starving." the doctor smiles, saying he'll get you a meal as soon as possible. he warns you that you may not be able to eat much just yet, something about your stomach shrinking. you nod, already feeling irritated by the recovery process. then he leaves and there's a loud silence until you get back on the previous topic.

"you just what?" you expect bruce to sit correctly again, but he doesn't. he looks so small in the shadows, so comfortable. you really don't want to talk about that anymore, but curiosity takes over. he doesn't respond immediately, so your heart pounds over the anxiety of hearing bad news. suddenly you feel so tired, you want him to take over all the decisions like he usually does. today, though, he seems open to suggestions, like his own ideas weren't suitable. how could you know someone so well but still have no idea what's on his mind?

"i think maybe you shouldn't be associated with me. any part of me." the world stops with your breathing. bruce wishes he could take it back. going over this conversation in his head made it seem easier to say out loud. you've been married for three years. you knew his ambitions for even longer. you chose this life and he has no right to take that from you. still, the ring on your finger weighs you down.

— DENIAL

you've learned to appreciate the winter winds. at the top of the wayne tower there were barely any, but tonight they caress your face with the gift of numbness. breathing in is both refreshing and painful. the scratched teacup warms your fingers, a small memoir from your childhood home, from times that won't ever come back. you used to be down there, frightened by dark alleys and gunshots. now you're on top of the world and nothing, not even that psychopath, can take that from you. you did relearn discomfort. ache. cold. it all made you appreciate life even more. in fact, the month that followed your hospital discharge was pure bliss. something about renewal, about rebirth.

bruce watched you from the living room, the wrinkled glass distorting your silhouette in the balcony. that was a good representation of how he currently saw you, slightly blurred and shaken. his cup would usually hold whiskey, neat, but it holds coffee instead. you keep saying you're fine and waking up screaming in the middle of the night. then he would hold you and you would be actually fine. so now he's staying awake through the night, sleeping three or four hours during the day while alfred takes care of you. of course they don't let you know, because you've denied every explicit help. as you get ready to sleep, bruce gets ready to stay in bed through the night, alone with his thoughts. part of him was scared to sleep. he was sleeping when you were taken, there's no way he would let that happen again.

it has been almost a year since he stopped patrolling the city. the news cover murders and robberies every day. alfred makes sure to come up with something for both bruce and you to do at those hours. he's taken a pause in promoting his candidacy, he couldn't handle the public eye for now. still, the marketing team insists that your kidnapping was good media, even though he never officially spoke on it. they publish notes about being away, about taking care of family. he can't see how that could be good in any way.

you open the glass doors, flashing your husband a sweet smile. you're in a red silk robe and your hair is still perfectly done. perfectionism was one of the side effects, as one may call it, of the trauma. you visited a psychiatrist about a month ago, since bruce insisted on it, and he marked all of the habits that made you happy as unhealthy. you never told bruce what was said in that appointment in hopes that he'll get over it. him treating you like a porcelain doll made you nauseous.

"ready for bed?" you ask, standing behind the couch and hugging his shoulders. you breathe in his scent, remembering the day you met. you were an executive in an overseas wayne enterprises headquarters that had just gotten transferred to gotham. they offered you six figures to take the second in command position, so you obviously got to know the first in command. in the beginning, you honestly thought he was an entitled brat that didn't work at all. overtime, you realised how much he cared about the company and how much he was pining over you. you gave him an opening and he asked you out. six months into the relationship, he told you about batman. he knew, somehow, that you would be forever.

he sets in bed while you're touching up in the bathroom. the night had to be perfect. you've hadn't made love ever since the fight and ovulation week had gotten you a little crazy. you check yourself in the mirror, thanking the hormones making you sexy. you crawl into his side, slower than needed, hair falling over the shoulder. "hi" you whisper, sitting diagonally from him and cuddling a bit. he says hi back, with a chuckle. you give him a little peck, which is all you've been doing for all of this time. he stays still, not pulling back but also not doing anything either. you try to take it as a good sign. your lips then reach his jawline and neck, leaving wet kisses all over his skin. your hands touch his shirt and go underneath it, tracing your fingers along his defined abdomen. a hand holds your arm, pushing you away. your smile fades and you frown your face to him.

"touch me, bruce" you not so much ask, it's more like a plead. he sighs, channelling all his will to stick with his decision. he puts a string of your hair behind your ear and you think he's going to properly kiss you.

"i don't think we should do this. you're not well enough yet." he doesn't sound so certain, but it hits you like a hard brick wall. this is harder for him than he lets it show, he's a man after all. even so, he can't see you like that for the moment. he sees you scattered and feels like it's his responsibility to assemble you again.

"i'm perfectly fine." you state like a grumpy proud child who's just lost a soccer tournament. he sees right through it.

"you're not, you're in denial." that simple word makes your mood swing: denial. it's the same thing the stupid psychiatrist told you. you can even hear his smoker's voice echoing in the office. it isn't true. you got over it, that's all. maybe some people take more time to do so, but you did just like that. you had a life to get back to.

you get off the bed and pull your robe tight again. "i'm sleeping in the guest room. good night." he doesn't follow and lets you be. in all honesty, he didn't know if he would have the strength to turn you down a second time.

bruce tries to fight the tiredness. even with caffeine running high in his blood system, he falls asleep for a while. the guest room is far enough that he doesn't hear the muffled sobbing. he wakes up not so long after with screaming. his heart races as he runs down the stairs, following the sound of your voice. his mind starts thinking the worst, but he finds you only having nightmares. he crawls in bed with you, without being kicked off. he lets you lay on his chest, one arm over your shoulder. his body warms yours up and you finally stop spasming. it doesn't take too long for both to fall asleep.

— ANGER

the penthouse is quiet. the winter is almost at it's end, so the pre-spring rays lighten the living room bringing warmness to your solitude. you sit uncomfortably, unknown to this feeling of absence. you don't feel him in the tower.

bruce said there was a non deniable meeting with his press team, because eventually he would have to go back to promoting his election, which would take place in the fall. you acted unbothered. yet, he's barely been gone for an hour and you can already feel the anxiety crippling. you only left the apartment for doctors appointment, still too scared to walk on the streets. and he was always there, too, holding your hand. so this is different.

alfred is downstairs upgrading the batman suit with a new technology he created. he invited you, but the darkness of the cave was definitely unrequited. that's how you end up lounging, in silence, staring at window. finally, you decide to try to watch something. you shouldn't really do that, because something could trigger a panic attack. but you're fine, you really are. enough with this nonsense.

shuffling through the channels, nothing gets your attention until there's a juridical show on. the judge is talking to the prosecutor, apparently, announcing the next witness to testify. the camera angle changes to the courtroom and expectant eyes turn to the wooden door. it opens slowly to reveal a knight in dark armour. you hold your breath. the jury buzzes and the room gets loud. heavy steps make his cape swing behind him, as he makes his way to the stand.

bruce had to make a tough decision. while you and him had been cleared from the trial, you with the psychiatrist report on PTSD and him with the marriage, the lawyers mentioned that the batman's testimony could be decisive for the accused to be found guilty by the jury. the public respected him. either they loved or feared him. so, even though he's never made such a public appearance, less even speaking, he had to go to that trial. he owed it to you. but you could never know. he didn't want to spark your interest in the case, you shouldn't have to go through it again. he lays his hand on the constitution and swears on it.

it doesn't feel real until you hear the judge.

"members of the jury, i present to you the batman."

it feels like a dagger has gone through your chest. there's a mix of feelings that have you almost throwing up. you feel like screaming and crying and blowing the fucking world up. how could he do that to you? that was your case, your life. you stand up only to find your legs trembling. you want to run there and testify. you want to tell the world the horrors you've been through and show them, including your husband, that you had overcome it. he was calling you weak right in you face and you couldn't bear the feeling of being chained up again. you're stuck in this hell of a tower like some futile damsel.

you stomp your way to the elevator, your mind set on leaving the building. but your heart stops you in your tracks pounding and almost vomiting itself out; you feel your toes numb and your legs can't stop shaking. the baritone voice still sounds in the apartment. you run to it and scream at the TV. you throw a pillow on it. that doesn't cool you down. your body is in motion while all you can see is red. you knock the coffee table down, shattering the glass and scattering like ashes the books that were on it on the floor. the noise still doesn't muffle his voice and you can't find the fucking remote control. you stumble across the room, throwing lamps and vases around. everything is falling down, in every sense. you grab a candle and let out a scream when you hit the TV with it, the screen going black and the noise finally ceasing.

alfred finds the room trashed, with you kneeling on the broken glass. there's blood on the floor. your body trembles with every sob. he cautiously steps towards you. you feel out of breath, tears burning your eyes. he holds you like a mother does.

"i'm sorry- i'm so sorry," he shakes his head, saying it doesn't matter. you wanna say it does, but there's simply nothing leaving your mouth apart from "i'm so sorry"

part three - aporia

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velaryqns · 11 months

Note

Hey!

Can you do a Robert Chase x imagine?

Chase is married to his co-worker that also works with House.

Chase and his wife has a daughter together who is almost 2years old and she is her daddy’s little girl.

After chase got stabbed and he needed to stay home for awhile, he was giving his wife the cold shoulder and even to his daughter. Chase and his wife gets in a fight at the hospital which makes chase realize what he has done and he is trying to go everything for his wife and daughter.

Something like what happened in season 8 and episode 12

On Your Side

Pairing: Robert Chase x Female Reader

Universe: House MD

Summary: after your husband is stabbed during work, your relationship seemingly changes and you need to prove to him that you’re on his side no matter what

Warnings: mentions of a stabbing, angst, it’s a long piece (sorry, I like long pieces 🥲)

Author’s Note; I was so excited when I saw this request; Chase and Wilson are my favorite House characters and I don’t get requests for Chase. I’m really excited for this story! I did age their daughter up for plot purposes

Your day had started off normally; or as normally as it could when both you and your husband, Robert Chase, worked under Greg House on the diagnostics team. You had woken up early to shower for the day, then woke up your daughter; Ivy Chase. The four year old was exited to see you, and you tasked her with waking up Robert.

He faked being asleep, teasing her until he woke up to tickle her. Squeals filled the room and you watched with a satisfied smile as your sat on your’s and Robert’s shared bed. He looked up at you with the smile you had fallen in love with at the very start of your relationship. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Morning,” he said softly when you pulled away. To which you smiled and ran your hand over his disheveled hair.

Ivy mimicked you, giving her dad a kiss on his nose and then playing with his hair. He looked at her in fake shock, and his attention returned to your daughter entirely. Ivy was a daddy’s girl, from the moment she was born. Ivy was born within your first year of being married to Robert, but she completed your family and she was something he truly needed.

Ivy was a split image of the both of you, and completely spoiled by her father. Robert insisted on helping you as much as possible after Ivy’s birth, and truly focused on bonding with his daughter during his time away from the hospital.

Your morning continued normally, the two of you getting Ivy ready for her daycare stay. You both covered her with hugs and kisses and a promise that you would pick her up as soon as you got off work.

How wrong that promise was.

You had been with Foreman, asking him for his opinions of the chemistry teacher. Even with Eric Foreman being the Dean of Medicine, he was still one of your closest friends and someone you had always bounced ideas off of since he joined the Diagnostics team.

You pair were interrupted by you being paged. Robert had been stabbed. You didn’t know the extent of the damage, but still ran out of Foreman’s office for sight of your husband. Taub had Jessica Adams keep you out of the room, where she informed you of what had led to the stabbing, as well as where it was.

Of course you cried, and immediately knew you couldn’t take part in either case anymore. You needed to be there for Robert. Once he was brought out of the OR, you followed and sat beside him. The rest of the team sat around the room, and you didn’t bother to ask them to leave.

Holding his hand, you didn’t leave Robert’s side except to call your mother to pick Ivy up and briefly explaining what happened. You watched your husband closely. He looked so different…the blood loss and anesthesia had heavily effected him.

Your peace was short lived when House came in insisting that you and the rest of the team drop everything to return to the “real” patient. Taub insisted that House leave, or at least let you stay with Robert. You were his wife.

When Robert woke up, you got excited. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him and inching closer to Robert.

“Hey, hey,” you whispered, rubbing his arm with your opposite hand, “You’re okay, I’m right here. You’re in the pac-u.”

He groaned, squeezing your hand slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief and rest your head on his shoulder. Your joy faded when he asked if he had been given an epidural, and then explained that he couldn’t feel his legs.

You sat in silence, processing your husband’s words while the team began to theorize as to what was going on. You were automatically off of helping for obvious reasons, and could only sit in silence and hold his hand while you listened. But you noticed that Robert was slowly pulling away from you, but you couldn’t fight him; he was already stressed enough.

Being interrogated by Cofield didn’t make matters any better, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to early in the morning when you and Robert had been curled up with Ivy. The two of you weren’t worried about the chance of Robert being stabbed by a patient dealing with psychosis, let alone him losing feeling in his legs.

House and the rest of the team being cleared to continue their practice didn’t matter to you; what mattered was your husband. You spent the next three weeks helping Robert as much as you could. Whether this was getting him to and from physical therapy or helping him at home. Or you tried to.

Robert grew to push both you and Ivy away. She had already rarely been home because your mother didn’t want you dealing with the stress of tending to both your toddler and your husband. And when she was home she wanted to see her father. To see the smile he had given to her before the accident. But it didn’t show.

Two weeks into his treatment, Robert was on crutches and managing much better on his own. You still tried to help here and there, but were glad to have Ivy back in the house. You understood that Robert was struggling, but you wanted your family to be back to how it had been two weeks ago.

One night you were tucking Ivy into bed, placing her favorite stuffed teddy from her dad on the bed next to her. She looked up to you with eyes that shone like her dad’s, and you smiled down at her.

Ivy, though only four, was an intelligent little girl. She often picked up on when there was tension between you and Robert, or when one of your were upset after a case or argument. And you knew she had noticed Robert’s shift in behavior as well.

“Is daddy okay?” She asked, playing with the ears of the teddy bear. She held the bear close and you felt tears prick in your eyes as you forced a smile on your face, “I miss my morning tickles.”

“I know baby,” you sighed and pushed her hair back, rubbing her forehead with your thumb, “Daddy’s okay…he’s just dealing with something in his own way. Like how you do when mommy and daddy take a toy away for being naughty.”

Ivy hummed, nodding slightly. You knew she couldn’t fully understand what you were trying to tell her. You tucked the blankets into her sides more and then rose to your feet. She watched you before she spoke up again.

“Mommy,” you hummed at her as you folded your arms and smiled at her, “Daddy still love us?”

“Of course, baby,” you assured her, then pressed a kiss to your fingers tips before gently placing them on her forehead, “Now go to sleep.”

You walked out of the room, turning off the big light and only the illumination of her night light is what filled the room. You walked through the silent house, stopping in the living room briefly to see Robert in the place he’d taken residence in: the couch.

He was sitting on the couch reading a book, his legs propped up on the table. Coffee sat on a coaster, and he didn’t acknowledge your presence when you walked in.

Sighing, you stopped by the couch and folded your arms, “You are welcome in our bed.”

He hummed, looking over at you. For a brief moment you saw your Robert again, but then he looked back at the book that was in his lap. Clenching your jaw you shook your head and walked out of the room, going down the hallway and entering the bedroom.

You changed in silence, then turned off the light and climbed into bed. You purposely faced away from Robert’s side, as you had done for the past two weeks. You couldn’t bare facing the empty side of your bed, the side Robert was supposed to take up just as much as he took up yours.

Over the next few days, everything remained out of rhythm. Robert not only pulled away from what he had built for him at home, but at work as well. You’d eventually had enough, and couldn’t take the constant silent treatment from your own husband.

You walked to a table at the cafeteria, seeing him sitting in silence and reading his book. You sighed and approached the table, folding your arms and looking down at him.

“We need to talk,” you told him.

“It can wait for at home,”

“So you can ignore me and our daughter longer?” I snapped, I sat at the table and leveled a glare at him. Robert brought his gaze up to your own, eyes locking, “You’ll never believe the type of question Ivy asked me the other night. We need to talk, or I’m going to stay with my mother and Ivy will go with me.”

He hesitated, but then stood from the table and waited for you to follow him. The two of you walked into the diagnostic conference room, knowing the rest of the team was away for lunch or to do tasks for House.

“Robert, I have been trying to help you,” You began, trying to keep your tone level and. It show your emotions, “For the past three weeks I have been trying to help you take care of yourself. You have done nothing but push me away at every turn. At the start of the week Ivy asked me if you still love us. Why should our daughter being those kinds of questions. Especially with how little she is?”

Robert was silent, pressing his lips into a thin line as he processed your words. Robert watched your for a moment, and then nodded, “You know I’ve been processing what happened —“

“That gives you no right to push away the people who care about you,” you snapped, dragging a hand down your face as you shook your head, “I love you. Ivy loves you. We want to help you get better and I don’t have the patience to continue and act like this doesn’t hurt me. Watching you heal from the accident hurt enough. But you’re shutting me out Robert! You don’t understand, but I am on your side. I always have been, I didn’t marry you for nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” he said almost immediately, setting the crutches aside and walking up to you. He placed his hands on your upper arms, looking down at you and shaking his head, “I’ve acted wrong, I’m sorry. Of course I love the both of you, and I’d never intentionally push the both of you out of my life like that. I can’t lose you. I don’t want to.”

You were silent for a moment, processing your husband’s words before you moved his hands from your arms and took them into your own. You have a small smile to him, “Don’t just apologize to me.”

You were relieved to go home, hugging Ivy and adorning her with tons of kisses as you moved to start preparing supper for the two of you. Robert said he needed to finish some things in the clinic, and you didn’t want to cause another argument at work about work.

You and Ivy settled for your meal, and were interrupted by the front door opening. You turned to see Robert walking in with a grocery bag in one hand a tub of ice cream in the other. You raised brow at him as he struggled into the house and Ivy rushed into his arms.

“Ivy baby, you still need to be careful,” you called out and rose to your feet. You grabbed the items from his hands and Robert let you take his crutches and set them aside.

Robert lifted Ivy and looked toward you, “I hope there’s some supper for me?”

“In the microwave,” you confirmed, walking alongside him toward the dining room. He kissed Ivy and told her to climb back in her chair while you walked to the kitchen.

Robert sat in his chair as you warmed up his plate of food and bri fight it to them. As he began to dig in, you out the ice cream away. You began digging through the bag and froze at a small felt box in your hand. You looked up curiously, and he caught your eye with a small smile.

You opened the box and found a small gold necklace. Shaking your head you closed the box again, chuckling to yourself and continuing to put everything away. After a night of ice cream and movies, Robert insisted on putting Ivy to bed. You could hear her laughter and his voice as he told her a story.

He eventually limped into the living room, watching from where you were in the kitchen cleaning up for the night. You had just finished up and shut off the light to leave the kitchen.

“I’m going to bed,” you told Robert, sending a smile in his direction, “Night.”

You had already changed and climbed into bed when you heard the door open. You did not pay attention to Robert until you felt the bed dip. He inched closer to you and his arm wrapped around your waist. You let Robert pull you as close as his wound would allow, before you brought your hand up to cover his own.

“I love you,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss behind you ear.

You smiled softly and brought his hand to your lips, “I love you too. And I’m happy you came to your senses.”

You had your Robert back, and things were already looking much better.

#fanfic #fanfiction writer #oneshots #reader insert #gregory house x reader #house x reader #james wilson x reader #allison cameron #gregory house #house md #robert chase x reader #robert chase #jesse spencer #floridwrites

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 8 months

Text

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Epilogue Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3707 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

~~~

The water ran hot against your skin as you lathered your body in soap. The bubbles formed quickly from how fast you scrubbed yourself. You didn't like taking showers. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Showers were both simultaneously the best and worst part of your day since returning home from the hospital.

Your fingers barely brushed across your skin, swiping the soap over and back a few times before you washed it off. You didn't like the feel of fingers lingering too long on your skin. Objectively, you were much better than you were before. The first time the nurses tried showering you, you almost screamed the hospital down as flashbacks and phantom touches invaded your brain.

You turned the shower off and stepped out of it. You didn't look in your mirror, immediately reaching for a towel to cover yourself up with. The towel helped you feel less... vulnerable, even if you were all alone.

Only then did you look in the mirror. It had already been one month since you'd left the hospital after being cooped up in there for two weeks. Today actually marked the day you were told you had to leave for the mission - exactly one a year ago. You were now back in your old apartment in DC - Hotch had pulled in a favour from the FBI to keep paying your rent until you came back, and you had almost choked him to death with the strong hug you'd given him when the team had brought you home.

Home.

The word brought a smile to your face. Well, it wasn't so much the word as it was the images that came to mind with it. Your apartment, the BAU, the team, the Italian restaurant downstairs you always used to visit before you left. A certain genius with unruly hair and the brightest smile in the world...

After this weekend, I'll be seeing that smile everyday, you thought as you quickly dried off and rushed to pull some casual shorts and an over-sized gym t-shirt on. Just the thought of being exposed for too long freaked you out.

You walked out to your lounge room where you were greeted with the afternoon light that would no doubt be setting soon. For a moment, you just allowed yourself to take in your street, standing so close to your floor-to-ceiling window that if you leaned forward you would bump your nose against it. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in fragments off the windows of other apartments; people were already home from work and walking the streets with their loved ones or dogs. The hardware store across the road was closing up, but the lights for the Italian restaurant downstairs flickered on, telling the world they were ready for business.

It had been killing you to stay away from work - Hotch and Penelope had made it very clear they didn't want you anywhere near the office until you had taken your month off to recover and readjust back into life. But, in hindsight, you were glad they had. You'd found a new appreciation of where you lived, reacquainted yourself with what you liked to do and liked to eat and liked to go watch at the movies.

This past month had almost wiped Serena Vanderguff from existence... and you couldn't tell if you liked that yet or not.

A sudden knock at your door knitted confusion in your eyebrows as you looked curiously at the entrance to your home. You spared a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. What's someone doing here at quarter-to six on a Friday afternoon?

You softly padded over to the door and peeped through the spyglass that allowed you to see whoever it was that knocked at the door. You couldn't stop your wide smile of delight at who greeted you outside. Without wasting another second, you unlocked the multiple locks on your door and swung the blasted thing open to welcome the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.

'Spence!' you exclaimed. 'What a lovely surprise!'

'Hey!' he replied just as enthusiastically. 'I was on my way home from the office and thought I'd stop by.'

It was only then you noticed he was holding a big and beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. 'Goodness, Spence, you didn't have to bring me flowers again.' He'd been bringing you flowers once a week every week since you'd been found. Even when you were still in the hospital, those two weeks he had brought you the same flowers, the ones you loved.

He just smiled that adorable smile of his before responding. 'I read somewhere that florals can produce a high level of endorphins and serotonin,' he explained as he offered them out to you, lips still upturned in a crooked, adorable smile. 'And ever since that sewerage pipe break in your building, there's always been a lingering smell that I thought you could use help covering up.'

'That was over a year ago, though!' you argued weakly, but took the flowers from his hands anyways. Your fingers briefly brushed, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. It was gone as quickly as it came.

You gestured for him to come inside and he did. From your front door the kitchen was easily accessible, which is where he walked to and leant against the counter. You quickly closed the door and followed after him, heading straight for your flowers from last week sitting wilted in their vase.

'And in all that time, they still haven't managed to fix it,' Spencer added jokingly, but the upward pull of his lips wasn't as high now.

You heard what he really meant as you pulled out the dead flowers, filled the vase with fresh water, and placed the new flowers in. All that time...

A lot has happened in that time. Upon your release from the hospital, Khan had been put in jail alongside many of his goons. Madame Lacroix and the other New York club managers were found guilty of human trafficking and dealing in illicit drugs and contraband, and were all thrown in jail and their clubs were shut down. Turned out it was a national operation that Khan was running, and other units of the FBI in other states were currently hunting them all down.

What made you happy though was that the girls you saved were going home, and for those that didn't have homes, they were being found homes of their own. The older girls that worked at the clubs were a different story. Some packed up and left town, wanting to travel or find new work elsewhere. The rest bought up the clubs and were rebranding themselves, taking ownership of their lives. Now they were the ones in charge.

You looked at Spencer, leaning casually against your counter, the light of sunset haloing him as it reflected off the opposite building into your apartment.

And a lot still hasn't happened.

'So, what's the occasion?' you asked, turning to face Spencer, finally finished with the flowers. You crossed your arms and couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at you lips. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of the great Dr. Spencer Reid in my apartment this evening?'

He chuckled at my posh delivery, and the loose curls dangling across his forehead bounced with the sound. It had grown in the time since he'd found you, but he'd cut it once or twice since then to keep it at that perfect length of long-short - long enough to style gorgeously but short enough to be considered clean-cut and suitable for work.

The urge to rake your fingers through the curls itched at your fingertips, and you were so glad your hands were crossed under your armpits.

'I was meant to come in earlier this week like I usually do,' he started, pushing off the counter to wander past the kitchen and into the lounge, ultimately ending up looking out the window as you had been just before. 'But the amount of paperwork we've had piling up this month has been ridiculous, even I was starting to hate looking at endless towers of paper to read then sign.'

'Oh no,' I drawled out, following him to the window with a teasing smirk on my lips. 'Has the great Dr. Reid finally met his match?'

'Not quite,' he replied, still staring out the window.

It was hard not to look at him as the sunlight lit up his amber eyes,. He was simply... ethereal.

'I finished it all, finally,' he continued, 'and thought I'd pay you a visit. Seeing as it's Friday and there are no new cases, I'm not expected in the office tomorrow.'

I blew out a low whistle. 'Wow. A whole weekend to yourself? That's unheard of.'

'Yeah.' His voice was breathy, and you noticed the emotion in his gaze shift as he turned away from watching the world to look at you. A sad smile appeared on his lips, eyes glazing over with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. 'I've missed you.'

'You saw me last week,' you countered, like a mother placating a child. 'And we text and call like everyday.'

'I know. It's just like old times again, but...'

He paused, as if gathering his next words carefully. Spencer always thought about his words so that people understood him the best possible way. It was one of the things you positively adored about him.

'The office is, I don't know, empty somehow,' he said finally, slowly. 'I know that's a silly thing to say when Morgan and JJ and Penelope and everyone else is there, but... Your desk still sits there, waiting for you to come back. And I kept it clean for over a year, almost willing you to come back any of those days.'

You smiled softly at him. 'Well, you don't have to wait much longer. Monday morning, bright and early, I'll be at my desk ready to go.'

Your eyes met and you could tell he was holding back tears. Your words came out quiet but true. 'I've missed you too, Spence.'

You had always been attuned to each other, the team sometimes joking that you both shared the same brain cells (even though, as Spencer claimed continuously, that was not anatomically possible). The sentiment remained true as you and him reached out to one another and wrapped your arms tight around each other.

Reflexively, your breath caught in your throat, and you were thrown back to that night where Khan defiled you in the most brutal of ways.

Spencer noticed you tense, and he pulled back slightly. 'Is this okay?" he asked gently. He had been there when you had your meltdown at the nurses; he knew what Khan had done to you, and how you would never be same because of it.

His arms were warm and gentle around you, and that horrible memory disappeared. You were with Spencer. You were safe. You were home.

You took a moment to catch your breath, to stabilise yourself in the present once more, and pulled him in tighter. 'Yes. This is okay.'

After your permission, his arms tightened around you, and there you stayed for a while longer. Just hugging while the rest of the world passed you by. With your ear pressed to his chest, you knew both your hearts were beating in time with one another.

Synced. Linked. Two halves of a whole.

Your heart practically screamed for him when he and the team had found you, saved you. It had been screaming for over a month since that day, and you knew it would never stop screaming for him.

I would've said yes.

Neither of you had said anything about what you'd said, what you had confirmed. Everything had just happened so quickly, and then Spencer had been busy with work since the team was a man down until you returned.

You'd stolen what you could in your brief touches, the laughs you shared, the scent of the flowers that hung in your apartment for a week before he brought a new set. And despite all he had done to get you back, despite that night at the Chateau - What would you have said? - you'd just been too much of a coward to see if he still felt that way for you.

Because nothing had changed for you. It never would.

You had two days before your life would go back to semi-normal, and by then it would be too difficult, too complicated. Oh screw it, it's complicated already.

You pulled apart from Spencer, disentangling yourself from him completely. As much as you wished to hold him forever, you needed to have your space if you had any hope of finally getting the words out.

'Hey, you okay?' he asked, noticing your tensed form, your fidgety fingers.

'Yeah, I just...'

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and let out that breath. Now or never, Y/N.

Opening your eyes, you spoke. 'I just don't think I've ever thanked you for checking in on me. I know how busy you can be.'

'There's no need,' he replied, a soft smile adorning his face. 'I'll always come to your aid. You're... so dear to me, Y/N.'

Hope sparked in your chest, the only driving force for you to keep speaking. 'I mean it. You literally saved my life in the Warehouse. I had resigned myself to my fate: that I would never see you or Pen or Derek or JJ or the rest of the team again. I knew you'd find me, but I had made peace with dying before that point.'

You sucked in a steadying breath as the dark memories started to claw their way back into your brain, into your heart. Phantom fingers ghosted over your skin, causing you cross your arms again in attempt to protect yourself from them.

'And then Khan... used me,' you managed to get out, words strained and voice croaky as tears formed at the rim of your eyelids.

Spencer's expression turned into one of concern. 'You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Y/N,' he offered, amber eyes scanning me all over for signs that I would breakdown.

I shook my head. 'No. I need to tell you this. I need you to understand.'

'Understand what?'

'That this past month I have had to learn to re-love myself again, to re-love my body and what it did for me that day.' I forced my arms down beside me, opening myself up completely to Spencer. 'It hasn't been easy, and sometimes... I've hated myself, instead. And the scars run deeper than my skin shows and may last for a long time - possibly for the rest of my life.'

You tell yourself to be brave for a moment, and you look directly into Spencer's eyes, which shine with unshed tears and something else you can't quite figure out.

'But you... Dr. Spencer Reid,' you started, tears finally falling from your eyes as the brightest smile spread across your face. 'You have made me believe in hope again. Hope, that I might one day be rid of this hatred for myself and my body. Hope, that I can carry this trauma and still live a full life. Hope, that I can be more than what Walter Khan made of me that night.'

A hysterical chuckle escapes you, and you wipe some of the tears away. There was a silent voice in the back of your head saying how ridiculous you are for crying over this. But that voice was all of hatred, of jealously. It has been the voice you've let dictate your feelings for over a month.

But, today, you were done listening to it.

'Hope, that... you love you me as much as I love you, Spencer.'

There, you said it. Relief bombarded the space where the weight of those words had held a huge place in your heart for the longest time. Since before the mission, before Maeve, before you even knew you were in love with him. It was out there, now. There was no going back.

Spencer remained silent, staring at you like you had three heads. Slight panic coursed coldly through you, and suddenly your mouth was motoring, words just flying out one after the other.

'That's not me asking you to say it back or anything. I just... oh my goodness, screw it. I have been in love with you forever, Spencer, and I just wanted to let you know because you have taken up such a huge part of my heart that will never belong to anyone else, and-'

'You love me?'

You paused at Spencer's question, locking eyes with the boy genius and seeing a mixture of disbelief and that same emotion again, the one you couldn't put a finger on. Perhaps it was terror, and that one thought had your heart sinking like the Titanic.

'Yeah,' you replied quietly.

'...How long?'

'Sorry?'

'How. Long.'

You rubbed at your eyes, suddenly avoiding his gaze by looking simply anywhere else. It was all going so horribly wrong. But he'd asked a question. And you would do anything, answer anything, if he asked.

'I think I've loved you since the day I met you,' you said, and it was only when you'd spoken the words did you realise how cliche you sounded. A humourless laugh escaped you at your misery.

'I didn't realise until a few years later, though,' you continued. 'But by the time I did, I found out you had a secret girlfriend in Maeve and you were just so happy I couldn't possibly ruin what we had because of that. And I never tried after because you were grieving and I didn't want you to think I was rushing you or pushing you too soon. But then you asked me, and I was so happy, but then it all just went downhill from there. Goodness, this is all coming out horribly wrong-'

'Stop talking.'

'Wha- Mph!'

Your question was swallowed by Spencer Reid's lips as he cradled your face in his hands and pulled you to him, pressing his lips passionately against yours. He tasted like Halloween sweets and fresh air, and that just made you close your eyes and melt into him more. The kiss wasn't frantic. Rather, it was sweet and loving and you couldn't get enough of him. Even as you weaved your fingers into his luscious hair and tugged on them gently, eliciting a deep growl of approval and want from deep within him.

As he kissed you, your doubts faded away, leaving only your love for another that could not be any clearer now. As he kissed you, another mental, emotional scare healed and vanished.

You both finally pulled apart, heaving for breath as your noses brushed one another's. When you looked up at his eyes, you finally recognised the mystery emotion that had been burning ever since he'd stepped into your apartment.

A relieved, genuinely happy smile split his lips wide as tears of joy ran down his cheeks. His thumb swept over your own tears, causing you both to chuckle at your silliness.

'If you hadn't guessed already,' he said, his words only for you, 'I love you, too. I know that's an odd thing to say before you even date someone, but I do, and I have for a while even if I didn't know it before. I'm just so so sorry for making you wait, for being an ignorant, stupid coward.'

You brought your hands up to wipe away his own tears, heart immensely full for the man in front of you. 'Dr. Spencer Reid stupid? Now you're just making stuff up. I thought you didn't do that.'

That pulled a laugh from him, and he pulled you into another hug, this time more bone-crushing. As if he couldn't express how much he loved you enough. You hugged him back just as desperately though. It seemed as though you shared the same sentiment.

In another moment of bravery, you spoke over his shoulder where your chin rested. 'You know... my answer still stands. That is, if your offer still stands.'

Dr. Spencer Reid. Are you asking me out on a date right now?

Spencer pulled away from the hug, with the biggest smile on his face. 'It will always stand for you, Y/N. Always.'

What do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?

It was you this time that pressed a bruising kiss on Spencer's lips, the kiss being answer enough for what you had been holding onto for exactly a year.

Sweet, sweet music wafted up from downstairs, the faint sound of a beautiful violin sparking an idea in your head. You forced yourself to pull away from Spencer and said, 'I know a great Italian restaurant that is super close, by the way.'

'Sounds perfect,' Spencer replied, kissing you quickly again before crouch and picking you up by your underarms and twirling your around in the air. Laughter echoed through your apartment as you clung to him but also rejoiced at the feeling of flying. For the first time in over a year, you were finally feeling like yourself again.

Spencer eventually put you down, saying, 'As much as I find you the most beautiful girl in the world, I don't think t-shirt and shorts are going to cut it downstairs.'

'Oh. Right.' You quickly dashed into your room and put on something more suitable.

And finally, one year after being asked out, Spencer held your hand in his and took you downstairs to have your date, where you both had the best night you'd had in a long time. It might've taken a few twists and turns to get to where you both belonged: with each other. But as you ate your pasta, drank your wine, danced with and laughed with and kissed Spencer, you realised it had only made your bond stronger, that it had been worth it.

You'd finally found your way back home.

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torhues · 1 year

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iwaizumi hajime.

iwaizumi exhales in the palms of his hands. "how long?"

"a month or so, maybe," you look ever so calm, watching people enter and leave the airport, fiddling with your fingers occasionally out of habit. while your actions might look like some sort of obsession with observing people, they're actually subtle attempts to avoid looking at iwaizumi.

"was it hard?" he doesn't sound angry, or disappointed, or sad. it's not pure numbness, but his words aren't intoxicated with emotions either. "thinking about breaking up?"

"i tried not to overthink," you reply, still looking at the people, their luggage, noticing everything that the attendants are doing at the check-in counters. it's hard to keep up with everyone's actions in the multitude.

you've always associated airports with bits of romance. you've seen people break up on airports and kiss their lovers goodbyes until the last boarding calls. airports, according to you, are no different than hospitals. people visit both the places, but you don't know if they're coming back. although, not everyone thinks of airports as a place so gloomy that it stirs your stomach, but you've taught yourself to think that way in the past few months.

you've played it in your head multiple times, how you would break up with iwaizumi. you settled upon doing it last week, but never got a chance. days passed, you felt your chances slipping through the cracks of your hands and suddenly, the words fall off your lips amidst hundred other people waiting for the boarding announcement on the airport.

"hajime, you're not dying and neither am i. you're pursuing your dreams and if the situation calls for us to break up, i'm no one to refuse," while it seems like you're offering him some comfort to cope with the situation, those words are for yourself. you want to believe that he will come back to you, or you will find him again, even if it's after years, after the sweet memories that you share disappear over time; even if it's just one minute before you die, you want to believe you will meet him. after all, those will be the words that will convince you to look forward to every single day that is now going to pass without a glimpse of him.

"you know we don't have to do this," iwaizumi says it as a matter of fact. there's a stern look in his eyes, as if he has known you long enough to know the words that you mean and the ones you don't. sometimes, you think if you've given too much of yourself to him that now, he resembles a faint image of yourself in the mirror. it's like a single soul living in two different bodies, perhaps that's why, it feels like you're losing little pieces of yourself as you watched him prepare to leave for the States.

and so, you mirror the exact same look at him. "we do,"

"what if i fall in love with someone else? what if i come back with a family, a kid?" there's a hint of sorrow behind his hurtful words. thinking about iwaizumi next to someone else is painful, it's like taking a knife to your heart, but at the same time you know he doesn't mean his words.

just like iwaizumi, you've also known him long enough to know the words he means and the ones that he doesn't.

"i don't know, perhaps i'll congratulate you?" you manage to reply with a bitter laugh. "and also hate you for not inviting me to your marriage,"

you honestly don't know how you'd feel about iwaizumi starting a family with someone else. of course, you'd be happy for him, but will also carry a heart that aches at the site of him standing next to his other love, someone that's not you; and of course, you would still love him, even if you lose the rights to call him yours.

even though you're holding onto the words that you both will meet again, this could be the last time you see him. you know it already, you both have different lives, separate goals, and loving was never about staying next to each other even if it means giving up on what you've always wanted to do in life. it's surprising how you've both lived as strangers until you met each other and suddenly, your life without him seems impossible.

"will you be happy without me?" he asks.

"i'll try," you reply.

he nods, checking his watch before standing up and fixing his shirt. his eyes settle upon his backpack before travelling back to yours. "we still have twenty minutes, in case you want to change your decision,"

"i've decided,"

"okay," he breathes out, shooting you a smile while trying to choke in the tears that are starting to fall down his cheeks. "don't forget me," he adds a reminder, as if you're ever going to do that.

you met iwaizumi in middle school as a classmate, almost a stranger, someone you never properly talked to until he became the only student you knew beforehand in your class when highschool commenced. now, he is singlehandedly the most important person in your life. he's someone who loves you to moon and beyond, someone you've hurt many times but also is someone whose arms are like a second home to you.

you don't think anyone could compare to him, or the effect he has on you. no one can replace the moments you share with him, it's not like there's another person in the world who could make you feel the same way he did. you won't forget him because it's not like there's someone out there who can shadow his presence in your life.

like, there's not another iwaizumi hajime in this world because there's only one of him, and you're beyond lucky to share a few chapters of your life with a man who makes you feel like the happiest person alive.

with the boarding announcement going off, iwaizumi takes a last look at you. his eyes look the brightest they've ever been, overflowing with love so as to remind you that he loves you, and will continue to do so for years to come, that the distance that keeps on increasing between the two of you as he walks away doesn't mean anything because he'll always be there for you no matter what.

that you were the first for him and he is sure that you're also his last, and that you don't have to worry about him falling for someone else because even though he's going to a far away place, he's leaving his heart with you.

"hajime," you call, rushing to the line waiting in to pass through the metal detector. "i don't care if you come back with a wife, kid, or kids, or if you even come back. all i know is that i'm rooting for you, and i will continue to do so, and if you ever decide to come back, i'll be right here,"

you cup his face and plant a last kiss on his lips. "let's try to be happy without each other,"

and now, iwaizumi is twenty-seven, standing in front of flower wreaths at Narita International Airport with a white carnations, filtering through the small crowd that clutters the memorial of people who had passed away in an accident, fallen victims to the flight that went up in flames just a few minutes after it's take off.

iwaizumi spots your picture on the granite along with several others, placing the flowers amidst several others. a single tear rolls down his cheeks, "i'm a little late, aren't i, love?"

#♡ hues'.#♡ handmade.#iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #iwaizumi fic #haikyuu angst #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu drabbles #iwaizumi drabble #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi headcanons #haikyuu iwaizumi #giggles . i love writing iwa angst #my fav for real

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thegoblinboy · 1 year

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I have this image in my head, its making my heart melt and I kind of just really want to try and use my words to paint it out for everyone here (: BUT MORE WAYNE CONTENT

The diner is small, nothing much compared to the numerous ones that kept popping up around Hawkins with fancy tables and new, sparkling everything. Munson’s diner has gone through a lot over the years, everything but bankruptcy. Which had been the shark to every other place in town. How Wayne Munson kept everything a float was a secret amongst the town. Some rumored that he took money out from under the table, which has happened before with a restaurant that used to be on the corner of Main Street and South Ave. When Wayne suddenly started to carry a toddler around on his hip, seemingly appearing out of no where with the hugest brown eyes known to man everyone in the area knew that the clock was starting to tick down to the inevitable. When the closed sign wouldn’t flip to the open side ever again. So, like the crazed people they were they started to show up in crowds. Feeling as if they had limited time to get Wayne Munson’s famous pancakes. What they didn’t expect, was for the place to stay a float for another a decade. Once the realization dawned on them that Wayne Munson wasn’t going to give into anything, everyone relaxed a bit. Though crowds still came in for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Breakfast, on most days it was normally just Wayne and his nephew running the floor. Only for Eddie to leave after eight knowing he couldn’t push being any more late for school away. Thing was, everyone loved the boy. Pretty much watched him grow up in the small beat up place. You didn’t get the true Munson Diner experience without Eddie Munson’s bright beaming smile coming towards your table to drop off a plate full of French fries. Playfully whispering to some of the regulars that he gave them a little extra. Tips had always came in for Wayne, a shy older man who would much rather stay in the grill area. Normally hiring a waitress or waiter to handle the people. But the second Eddie learned how to walk, talk and better yet carry five plates at once the tip jar was normally over flowing by the end of the day. Not counting what some customers snuck into Eddie’s pocket while running around. Wayne spent almost all day at the diner working, but it was something he enjoyed. On his days off he would still make sure to drop in and make sure that his employees didn’t need help.

With all of this knowledge, Wayne Munson is hurt. Devastated even when the whole town turns on his boy. Eggs his diner, destroys his property, and makes everything unrecognizable. His dream job and favorite human in the entire world was crushed all in one night. Later on he would have to sit on the side of a hospital bed, gripping onto Eddie’s hand to make sure that he knew that it wasn’t his fault that his business went under. Accepting that things weren’t going to be the same ever again, wayne starts to pack up the mugs that were on dozens of shelf’s wrapping around the small diner. Firing everyone that worked there, cleaning the tables, mopping, dusting, pretty much anything he could think of to make sure the place was sold. It had only been forty eight hours since Chrissy Cunningham died in his trailer, he had been the one to call the police when he walked in and found the poor girl. He had expected some trouble, what he didn’t expect was for everyone to turn against the Munson name. Thankfully he had enough money saved up to hold him over a bit before he had to get a new job and he took what he considers the most horrible vacation he’s ever had.

When his boy is finally found, barely alive he was almost the first person to see him out from surgery. Possibly a close tenth with the amount of people in the room checking in on him. Some of them weren’t even in the state when everything went down, nor did they ever actually talk to his boy. But Wayne recognized each face behind their orders. Doesn’t know any name, only associates them with their regular dish of food. Eleven was waffles, Robin was strawberries, Dustin was toothless and so on and on. Even though Wayne didn’t have much hope with this town ever accepting them again, shockingly it happens fast. When the whole town started to crave their favorite dishes. The diner hadn’t been sold yet, there were no workers to help out and there was no way Wayne was going to be able to pull this off. What the town was afraid of happening, was currently happening and it was all of their fault. For the numerous time that year he is shocked when Eddies friends start to show up to help.

Argyle, a boy who moved from California to stay with Jonathan and the Byers was one of the easiest hires of his life. He walked in with no resume, just himself. Answered every question easily, explained that he did smoke but that didn’t stop him from being a good worker. If Wayne truly thought he couldn’t do it then he could cut back if needed. Which strangely, isn’t ever needed. The kid was hard working and Wayne quickly makes note to force Eddie to make friends with him. Though the problem was getting everything situated. Which everyone did help do, getting the place looking better then what it had in years. It drained his bank account but it was worth buying more stock and getting the place situated. Then there was Robin Buckley. Who came connected at the hip with Steve Harrington. Both of them wide eyed and willing to do anything. Which meant they ended up not only just as waiters but janitors as well. Neither of them complained all that much and with their past experiences with scoops ahoy they lightened the place up. So far, the Munson diner has added pizza and even more ice cream to the menu which strangely brought more of a following to the place. The next couple of hires didn’t even happen properly, they just started to come in and started to work without even caring about being paid. Just wanting to be with their friends and hanging out with out being nuance’s.

El and her brother Will weren’t necessarily workers there, but they helped decorate the spaces on the walls. Will making a huge painting of the whole group standing in front of the diner together. When closing came around El would clean the whole place with out much thought. Moving the broom around in the back as she helped wiped tables down. It was strange watching things floating around but Wayne didn’t mind. Another easy choice to add to the growing group of employees was Nancy Wheeler. Who helped get the ads into the newspapers and on occasion helped Wayne with finances. She kept doing it for free which bothered the man a bit but she refused to take a dime for it. Lucas and Max were also two that came connected at the hip. When Steve and Robin weren’t working they took their place. Both equally hard workers, with a few health problems from Max. With all of these employees Wayne wasn’t sure if he was able to pay all of them. Which didn’t seem to become a issue with the amount of guilt money coming in from the town, and the way the younger kids were happy with just getting free meals if he couldn’t afford it some weeks.

All of this happened within a span of a month, so when Eddie was finally able to come back he was greeted by a very different diner. He came back a little scared up and very different, a little sassy with some of the customers who had made it their mission to destroy his life. Though if Wayne didn’t see it with his own eyes he would have never believed it. Most shifts were made by everyone together, and without failure Steve was somehow always there on Eddie’s shifts. Smiling and cleaning up a mess a younger kid made, or helping run the floor when to many customers started to come in at once. At first, Wayne noticed how tense Eddie was around Steve. There was some level of trust between the two, that he could see. Though after a late night working, Eddie had slipped up around Wayne and admitted that he sort of shamelessly flirted with the other while on the run because he didn’t think he was going to make it out alive. That information broke Wayne in a way that he can’t even describe. After that he kept a closer eye on Steve, but the kid didn’t even care all that much about who the fuck Eddie dated. Robin Buckley was living proof of that. Though it was hidden very well to anyone who didn’t have a open eye or had no experience with a gay individual, to Wayne there were some signs.

The way Robin would constantly be at Eddie’s hip when he was around. Playing with the pins on her vest as she rambled on about something only his boy could understand. Steve was typically off to the corner washing a table or taking care of a customer. A few of the conversations that he would hear buzzing closer to his ears were the same ones he had with Eddie before he found friends with Robin. The ones talking about current events happening with the community. That and one night, when the two went to take garbage out forgetting all but one bag which Wayne had grabbed to help out he ran into a moment. With Robin freaking out about some girl with her hands flying, freezing mid frame while Eddie doesn’t react to his uncle. Thanking him and tossing it in the bin as Wayne snorts. “Sounds like you might have to woo the girl with one of those milkshakes of yours.” He says calmly as he leans against the door. Wanting to keep a closer eye on the two when they were out in the dark. Not trusting the people of the town.

“See! I told you Wayne would be more helpful then me, or Steve!” Eddie says throwing his hands up in the air. Rings glistening from the lights as he moves to pull out a cigarette. Earning a punch in his shoulder and a grumble of, “just because you want to die from lung cancer doesn’t mean I want to die from second hand smoke, that is a thing you know. My voice is already raspy enough Eddie, see what friend you are.” Earning a cackle from Wayne who shakes his head pulling out a stick of gum as he chews gently, letting the flavor melt into his mouth as he listens to the conversation. Not bothering either of them until Eddie steers the conversation back to Wayne for girl advice. Who only listens to the girls ramblings with a soft smile, watching her wave her hands in a similar way to Eddie’s. Who was currently standing a ridiculously far length from the two of them, so smoke doesn’t get anywhere near poor Robins lungs. Now, Wayne wasn’t much of a love expert but it seemed like his advice was being memorized and written into a book of things to do and not to do. The conversation would have gone on longer, but the alarm on his watch starts to go off and he signals both of them to come in and finish up.

Closing up he prepares to drive Robin and Eddie home but there Steve Harrington sat in his car waiting patiently, windows down and cigarette in is left hand out the window. Watching with amusement, Robins nose scrunches up as she starts to throw another fit. Everything starts to align more after that as Eddie tugs playfully on Wayne’s jacket as he moves walking backwards with a huge grin on his face to Steve’s car. “I’m going to Steve’s tonight, forgot to tell you.” He hums gently as Robin backs away from the car. Waving the smoke away as Steve laughs gently at something she says. Before he’s putting the stick out. Moving and hopping out of the car to give her a hug, in which she refuses because he stinks. Eddies laughing as he moves taking in the moment to steal a hug. Moving and nearly tackling the other from behind with one of his Munson hugs. Steve’s bending forward in response as the others nearly on his back. Whispering something in his ear as Steve grows shy. Wayne shakes his head as he unlocks his truck door, hearing Robin gagging and quickly running towards him for safe haven.

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Munson I would much rather drive with you.” She shudders as she looks at the two with fake disgust. Wayne shakes his head amused letting her in as he waves at his boy. Watching the way he beams from Harrington’s passenger. Catching all of the tell tales of a blooming romance.

“Do you think If I borrow a shot gun from a friend, that would scare the shit out of Steve?” Wayne mumbles over to Robin. Who laughs, throwing her head back a little clapping her hands a bit.

“Can I borrow it after you to scare the shit out of Eddie?” She giggles as Wayne laughs gently turning the engine on. Letting the boys leave first, following shortly after as he leaves the parking space.

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll teach you how to use it.” Wayne jokes playfully as he playfully winks at her, “might impress that gal you’re talking to.” He teases watching the way Robins face grows pink. Eyes flickering from her face to the Munson diner. That once again has gone through everything. And if he had his way, it will be standing there many years after he is gone. With the kids he’s got around, he’s sure it will be there for much longer then what he had hoped for. Now unlike other places, Munson Diner was a home to all.

#Wayne munson #heavy focus on Wayne Munson #diner life #Munson diner #headcannon time #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #platonic Stobin #robin has a bit of a friendship with Wayne #idk if I made this as clear as what I wanted it to be

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bleach-your-panties · 6 months

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victory ride - jean kirchstein x black!fem!reader

⚽️:soccer player!jean x black!fem reader

💎:inspired minimally by a real life encounter I had and because y'all know jean will have y'all in the hospital with that thang between his legs

⚽warnings: university au, smut, consensual recording, oral (m! receiving), switch!jean

💎: banner: made by me on pic collage, image from pinterest, animated on canva

⚽:tagging @chrollohearttags because they not finna play with long dick jean silver's

💎: divider: @/firefly-graphics

⚽: 2.1k words

▶️: rodeo(remix)- lah pat ft. flo milli

—

He love how I ride it

Hop on the dick, I made him get excited

This pussy off limits for lame niggas

Yeah, fuck me like you got some pain in you

—-

You sat idly scrolling through your cell phone while Jean was getting dressed in his uniform for the game that was to start in a couple of hours.

The first away game of the season and the Island Devils would be going up against some preppy university one state over.

While you had been studying this team extensively, Jean had opted not to do so as much, mainly because his nerves wouldn't let him.

"I'm ready, babe. It's time for me to board the bus." He said, looking at the silver, black-bezel Seiko watch that you'd bought him for his birthday.

Your family believed in that old ass superstition that you should never buy a man a watch as a gift, because it would mean the time in your relationship would run out.

Which is why it was just that - a superstition. You and Jean had been together since your freshman year of college and now graduation is right around the corner.

"Okay baby. Sasha, Connie, and I will be right behind y'all." You grabbed your bag and he leaned down to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

"Lead the way, baby." He smiled that handsome and devious smile of his, making you roll your eyes.

"Don't think I'm not on to you, Kirchstein!" You pointed at him and began walking out of his apartment door and into the hallway to get to the elevator.

"What did I do?" He asked innocently all the while his hazel eyes were trailing all over your body: from your pastel pink manicured toes, up your toned legs and calf muscles, stopping at your plump, juicy ass that wiggled in the beige romper that you had on. "Damn."

"Uh huh, I knew it." You laughed and pushed your hand into his lower back, making him stumble into a corner of the elevator.

"You're mean." He fake-pouted.

"Uh huh," You said while typing something on your phone. "Better get used to it, buttercup, if you wanna win against the Freedomfighters tonight."

"Freedomfighters, what a stupid ass name." He scoffed. "We'll kick their asses for sure, don't you worry, baby."

When the team bus pulled into the hotel where you all would be staying, Connie parked the car in a space not too far from it and you all got out.

Apparently, the opposing team was staying at this exact same hotel because another bus, similar to your team's but decorated in green and red with a large design of two red roses on either side of a stone wall with a cannon blasting right through it, was parked right next to the guys'.

A petulant-looking ginger was the first off of the bus, and Connie nudged you to get you to look. The tall, lean man was conversing with an equally-as-tall brunette with deep, emerald green eyes and his hair pulled back in a man-bun.

"He looks like an asshole."

You chuckled, "He does and probably is. Come on, let's get inside."

The trio (you, Sasha, and Connie) walked into the hotel lobby and met up with Jean again.

His teammates were used to him running off to hang with the three of you and didn't really mind since he was the captain anyway.

"Ready to head up to the room, dollface?" He asked while heaving his backpack and duffle bag over his shoulders. His face came down to press a kiss against your hair, which made you giggle.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"No getting your dick wet before the game, Jean-y boy. Can't have you making us lose."

"Who the fuck is us? How many goals have you scored for this team? Oh right, zero."

The two of them started bickering back and forth while you walked ahead with Sasha, who'd started chatting in your ear about a popular restaurant in the area.

Shiny metal doors parted for you all and Sasha hit the button for the doors to close until a tan, veiny hand stopped them. A group of very tall athletes sauntered in, laughing and chattering amongst themselves.

The space inside the elevator soon became very crowded, almost squishing the four of you against the elevator's back wall.

'Damn, excuse you then, big ass niggas' You thought while rolling your eyes.

"Verzeihen Sie uns. Platz für ein paar mehr?" (Pardon us. Room for a couple more?)

The ginger and brunette from before, obviously all of them are players on the team Jean is about to go up against us.

Said ginger rolled his eyes as they both stepped into the elevator and stood right next to you, finally letting the doors close.

"Eren, not everyone speaks German, cut it out."

The brunette chuckled deeply.

"My apologies."

His eyes then met yours, jaded hues traveling slowly over your frame, drinking you in.

"Meine Güte, was für eine schöne Frau." (My, what a beautiful woman.)"

You just raised an eyebrow, not understanding a lick of German, but Jean did.

He was between you and Eren in an instant, only having to take one long step forward with those strong, muscular legs.

While he was sizing Eren up, you were doing the same to Jean: your brown eyes roamed over all 6'4" inches of him.

How those black socks covered his legs up to just under his knees and how the silky white and blue shorts formed around the thick, muscled curvature of his ass just right.

Here you were drooling over him while he was about to murder Eren with his honeyed glare.

"Ja, das ist sie, und sie ist bereits vergeben." (Yes she is, and she's already spoken for)

Eren gave Jean a cocky smirk and held his hands up in a mock surrender.

"My apologies, again."

The elevator stopped on their floor and they got out, Eren still with his grin and Floch behind him with the look of a pure dumbass who would support his friend hitting on another man's girlfriend.

"Who were those pricks, anyway?" Jean grumbled looking down at the three of you as you all walked out into the hallway of the fifth floor.

"The brunette was Eren Yeager from Germany, #5. The ginger, Floch Forster from Ireland, #7." You informed the group.

"So you knew who he was this entire time?" Jean asked with an eyebrow raised and a teeny bit of jealousy threaded in throughout his usually calm and deep baritone.

"It's not that big of a deal, it's not like I'm his best friend. I just studied him a bit."

"Studied him?"

Jean's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and his forehead wrinkled significantly. His face portrayed a pretense of self-restraint, like he was attempting to prevent himself from making a scene in the middle of the hallway.

"Anddddd that's our cue to go. Come on, Sasha." Connie quickly grabbed the dark-auburn-haired woman's hand and pulled her down the hallway in the direction of their room.

Awkwardly, you stood with Jean in the middle of the hallway for a few seconds until he turned and stalked off towards your shared room.

His long, spindly fingers held the hotel keycard in a death grip; the veins in his forearms protruded and you could feel your panties getting wet.

"Um, are you mad?"

They lost.

The Freedomfighters actually beat the Island Devils, 3-0.

If you thought Jean was mad before, oh baby, now he was enraged.

Not at you, but more so himself.

That damned Eren Yeager turned out to be a pretty decent soccer player and it only irritated Jean even more when he saw you standing on the sidelines with your video camera.

It wasn't unusual for you to record his games so he and the team could watch the playback later to see what needed to be improved upon, but tonight it only irritated him everytime he looked up to see you with the damned contraption pointed right at him.

Capturing all of his failures of the night live and in 4K resolution.

What made it even worse was that he saw you pointing the camera towards Eren quite a bit as he ran up and down the field.

Jean was only irritated further when you both had returned to the room after the game and he came out of the shower to see you curled up on the bed, already watching the newly acquired video footage.

"Will you put that goddamned thing down already?"

You leaned up from your reclining position on the pillow to acknowledge him.

"Come again?"

"You heard me, or better yet-"

—-

I wanna fuck you right now

Reverse that cowgirl, I'm bucking right now

Climb on this standardbred, hope you can handle it

Beat that cat up when this dog put it down

Let's make a movie, girl, I'll do the shootin'

Camera in my left with your hair in my right

—-

"Yeah, just like that, baby….fuckkkk, hold that angle right there, don't you move."

Jean shivered, but kept his hazel eyes focused on the image of you in the viewfinder swallowing his dick.

His right hand held a tight grip on your hair while he thrust his hips rhythmically back and forth, making you gag on his fat length.

Long and thick, his dick touched the very back of your throat, the outline of it making the skin of your neck bulge in the most grotesque fashion.

"You look so good like this, baby, practically inhaling my dick. Wonder what Yeager would think if he saw you like this, yeah?"

As soon as he mentioned the German man, his eyes crinkled with anger again and his thrusts grew in both force and speed.

Knowing Jean, he'd probably started recording over the footage you'd taken of the game, that which he could honestly give a damn about right now.

"Fuck, I think I like this view much better." He smirked and then let out a deep groan as he emptied his balls in your searing, placable mouth.

"Shit…" He made sure to capture the image of you swallowing his nut and then wiping the excess from around your mouth with those pretty acrylic-tipped fingers.

"Come here; come ride me, baby."

—-

No time to make love, yeah

Keep screamin' you want it

Girl you lookin' lovely

When you ride this pony

We can do this to the morning

So please come and ride me

Love it when I'm deep inside you

You goin' crazy, yeah

—-

Jean's muffled moans seeped through your hand as you now held the camera pointed at him while bouncing up and down on his thick length.

Years of being together and still you felt the stretch of your pussy every time he was inside of you.

Your hand moved from his mouth and tangled in his ash-brown hair and pulled his head back and forth in time with your movements. He could be very loud in bed, which you loved because you revered a man that would let you know that you're making him feel good as well.

"Shit, Jean, baby, you look so fucking good on camera, just as good as you do when you're on the field." You mewled in heightened pleasure, wanting to throw your own head back but also not wanting to miss a single second of his gorgeous face gazing up at you.

His chest and forehead glistening with sweat, those honey-gray eyes shining with unshed tears as his body soon began to tremble with his impending orgasm. Yeah, you had that much of an effect on him.

Just looking at you could make him hard in an instant, but looking up at you while you took his dick like you owned it (and you do) had him more swollen and readier than ever to shoot off inside you like the cannon depicted on the side of the Freedomfighters' bus.

Yeah, after the ride you were giving him tonight he was bound to forget all about Eren, the team, the game - hell, he might even forget his own name for a couple of hours.

That is, if he didn't have you screaming it through the thin walls of this hotel room in those next hours.

Eren might have won the game, but he was the one taking a victory ride tonight.

—-

(If you're horny)

I wanna feel your body on top of mine

(Let's do it)

Right now, we ain't gone waste no time, baby (ride it)

Like a Harley in the wind

Got you bragging to your friends the way you ride (my pony)

Like a rodeo, ride like a rodeo, babe

*ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ!

#aot jean #aot jean x reader #jean x black reader #jean kirchstein #jean x reader smut #jean kirschtein x reader #aot jean smut #aot jean kirchstein smut #jean x y/n #i dont know anything about soccer #and dont come for me on the team names lol😭#jean kirchstein smut #jean x black female reader #💗💗🍡°aot masterlist #byp🌹#💗💗🍡°my fics

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mxjackparker · 10 days

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With all the propaganda and rhetoric against top surgery that "Gender Criticals" and general transphobes are spreading, here's some info on what top surgery was actually like for me, from surgery all through the healing process! (This post will include some images of drains and a little blood!)

I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria (which is necessary in the UK for surgery) around May 2020 and started testosterone February 2021, all through GenderCare. I got a letter from the gender therapist and a surgery referral from GenderGP and consulted with my surgeon then booked surgery for 14th Feb 2022.

I had to travel all the way to Manchester, on a coach that took many hours, and book a hotel. I raised surgery money via GoFundMe because despite being referred to (now closing) Tavistock GIC in early 2020, my appointment to even be assessed wouldn't have been for over 5 years.

I had a double incision top surgery (double mastectomy) on February 14th 2022 as scheduled! I woke up in a fairly minor amount of pain, still on painkillers from the surgery, with drains. As you can see, I was also so happy that probably made it hurt less!

My top surgery took a few hours. Pre-surgery, my chest size was a 32 H. That's a lot of tissue to be removing, and so I did end up with drains for the first 48 hours after surgery, though drains aren't used as broadly in the UK anymore and not by default.

I was discharged from the hospital the morning after my surgery (some people go home the day of, but I pre-arranged to stay overnight). I took no painkillers after surgery at any point during healing. I was up and walking around from the moment I left!

If you take painkillers, that may make you more fatigued and/or constipated, so those things are totally normal. If you need painkillers, you should absolutely take them - it's not a point of pride to suffer more than you need to. I didn't take any painkillers because I have a history of addiction to them. However, I found the pain entirely tolerable even despite the lack of medication.

The evening after I was released from the hospital, I was pacing my hotel room carrying my drains! Moving promotes healing and prevents blood clots. I was very hunched!

Directly after surgery I got to briefly see my chest, but not for long given that I needed to have the compression vest on! I didn't have too much swelling, so I could see what my chest actually looked like and was so excited. Once I got my drains out, I got to see it for longer!

The pain post-surgery was manageable. I had to bend forwards a little when walking so as not to pull on my stitches and make it hurt more, but I never took any painkillers and the pain was never intense enough to make me feel compelled to. I kept wearing my compression vest!

The drains were honestly the most painful part of the experience for me, and once they were out the most pain I felt was from my back from walking hunched forward. I wore the compression vest on and off for 2 weeks then abandoned it completely, because I had such little swelling.

3 weeks after surgery, I got my dressings off (except nipples). I could see the full scar. I told my surgeon I wanted scars that were mostly straight, and that combined with the size of my chest meant the scars needed to meet in the middle in a little triangle.

Everyone's scar shape is different, and you should talk to your surgeon about what you want. I didn't want semi-circle shape scars, because I wanted the scar to follow my pectorals so I'd have the option in the long-term of fading/medical tattooing and mostly hiding the scar.

3 weeks after top surgery, I was well-healed enough that I went into London for the Sex Work Strike and did a speech there! I was well-recovered by this point, though still fatigued. (A link to my speech if you're interested.)

Around a month, I took off the nipple dressing as instructed by my post-op nurse, and one was healed enough for no dressing but the other took about another week to be as healed. Healing isn't perfectly symmetrical.

Once all of my dressings were off and I was able to probably clean my nipples and scars, I got to see the full result of my chest. This is the thinnest my scars ever were, because they hadn't developed as scars yet - they were healed shut but weren't done scarring.

Once I was past a month of healing, all of the physical effects of top surgery had dissipated. I was no longer fatigued, my scars didn't hurt (though they did itch!), and I was in the secondary healing phase. My chest below the top of the nipple had minimal sensation.

I got phantom sensations, like water being poured over my chest, as the nerves reconnected. It wasn't painful, but it was weird! By month 2, I regained full sensation in most of my chest, with very little sensation on the scar and the skin directly between it and my nipples.

I have pretty much full sensation (including erotic sensation) in my nipples now. It's important to note: double incision almost always results in some loss of sensation, especially in the nipples. I'd have been fine with that, and this was an extra bonus for me!

This is my chest and scars 8 months after surgery.

And this is my chest now, just over 2 years after top surgery:

I'm very happy with how it looks, with how it feels, and I have zero regrets!

#trans man #ftm #trans men #nonbinary #top surgery #transmasc #transmasculine #transgender #lgbtq+#trans

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anotherspnfanfic · 1 year

Text

Hit and Run: Nightmares

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: 2540

Square Filled: Hugs for TMAS bingo @supernatural-jackles

Warnings: nightmares, character death (but not really), lots of fluff

Summary: Dean is still haunted by her accident.

A/N: Well it’s been over 2 years since the last timestamp on this but this part of the accident I never wrote into the original series wouldn’t get out of my head... so here it is. 😊

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

~~~~~

It was a beautiful spring day. Clear blue skies, birds chirping, and the smell of freshly-mowed grass lingering in the air. A perfect day, yet Dean couldn’t seem to shake this sense of dread.

He rinsed soap suds off the side of the truck. Before he could set the hose down, the bells sounded through the station. Hastily, he and the rest of the crew loaded into the trucks and pulled out of the station.

The lieutenant advised they were headed to a single-vehicle hit-and-run crash on the highway.

The silencing of the sirens and hiss of the air brakes announced their arrival on the scene. He was overcome with an intense sense of déjà vu as he climbed out of the truck to see the mangled blue Mustang.

Everyone moved towards the car to begin extricating the driver, but he couldn’t move. He felt like his feet were cemented to the ground.

Before he could figure out why, he was standing behind the ambulance with her on the stretcher. His hand was in hers as she cried out in agony. “I know it hurts. Just breathe and squeeze as hard as you need to, sweetheart.” She was then loaded into the ambo with him sitting beside her.

He held tightly onto her hand, worried that if he let go, she might just disappear. Suddenly, she squeezed his hand, panic filling her eyes as she struggled to breathe. In an attempt to soothe her however he could, he ran his thumb softly over her knuckles.

As Sam and Cas worked to treat her, he whispered soft reassurances. He was fairly certain she didn’t hear him over the commotion, but he continued anyway. Less than a minute passed, and she was able to breathe easier once more.

Dean watched as she slowly started to relax as the adrenaline in her system began to fade. She fought to keep her eyes open and her grip firm on his hand.

“Four minutes out!” Benny hollered from the driver's seat.

Moments later, her hand went lax in his just before she lost her fight for consciousness. “Stay awake, kiddo. Come on, open your eyes,” he pleaded.

Next, the heart monitor began to blare warning tones. “V-fib,” Cas announced.

“Damn it,” Sam muttered. Pressing his fingers against her neck, he added, “Lost her pulse. Dean, compressions.”

Once again, Dean was completely frozen in place. Why couldn’t he move? He had to save her.

He blinked and was then standing outside the trauma room at the hospital. He watched as the doctors worked to resuscitate her. “No,” he breathed out. “No, no, no. This isn’t what happened.”

“Hold compressions,” said the doctor. “Clear.”

Dean flinched as she was shocked once again. He shook his head. “We got her back in the ambulance. This is all wrong.”

The doctor looked at the monitor as the monotone droned on. He shook his head and sighed defeatedly.

“No. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Time of death…”

Dean gasped, jolting upright. Disoriented, it took a moment for him to realize where he was. He was at home, in his own bed.

As he tried to catch his breath, he glanced over his shoulder to see her sleeping soundly. She was safe and right beside him. He sighed in relief. It was only a nightmare.

Once he’d started to regain his bearings, he took a slow, deep breath. He scrubbed his hand down his face in an attempt to wipe the remaining images from his mind.

“Dean?” she asked, grogginess in her voice.

Not having noticed she’d woken, he nearly startled at the sound. Looking over his shoulder once more, he plastered on what he hoped was a convincing smile. “It’s early, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

She wasn’t convinced, though. Hearing the breathlessness in his voice, she pushed herself up to sit beside him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t look at her as he nodded. “Yeah. Just a bad dream. I’m fine.”

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked as she rubbed between his shoulder blades.

He shrugged.

“Was it about that bad call this week? That fire…?”

He shuddered at the memory, but shook his head. “No, but maybe that was what triggered it.”

She didn’t push. Instead, she just wrapped her arms around him and squeezed gently. Keeping her arms snug around him, she rested her head on his shoulder and waited for him to speak again.

He lowered his head to kiss her arm and then turned his head awkwardly to press another to the top of her head. “It was about you.” She pulled back just enough to see his face. “Your accident. It was like I was back in that ambo with you when you almost—” He cleared his throat. “Except in the nightmare, you did.”

“Hey.” She shifted to kneel in front of him and took his face between her hands. “But I didn’t. I’m right here.”

“You did, though,” he whispered, closing his eyes tightly. “For a very long three and a half minutes… you were dead.”

She lifted his hand and placed his palm against her chest and held it there. “See, I’m just fine. I’m alive, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As his eyes locked with hers again, she watched some of the tension in his shoulders start to melt away.

She laid her hand over his heart, and he lifted his free hand to press hers tight to his chest. She could feel that it was still racing with the remnants of fear from his nightmare. She leaned forward and started to pepper kisses across his jawline and down the side of his neck.

He let his head fall forward to rest in the crook of her neck. She moved her hand to the back of his neck and started to play with the short hairs. They sat like that for several minutes in silence as he reassured himself that she really was there and she was okay.

“Besides…” she started, pulling away to look at him with a smirk. “You didn’t even know me back then. It would have just been another crappy day at the office.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That is not funny.”

She chuckled. “Just a little?”

He shook his head. “Not even a smidge.” Grabbing her arm, he quickly spun her around so her back was against his chest and then flopped back against the bed.

She squealed at the abrupt movement as he rolled both of them to their sides and made himself comfortable.

She smiled. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you more.” He squeezed her hard before his hands found hers. With his left, he interlaced their fingers, and his right wrapped around her wrist, his fingertips settling against her pulse.

His fingers stayed firmly in place until his breathing evened out and he relaxed into sleep. It was a position he fell asleep in fairly regularly. She had never really understood why. Until now.

Once she was sure he was fully asleep, she gave into her own drowsiness. She took a deep breath, enveloped in the smell of his shampoo and aftershave. Pulling their intertwined hands closer, she pressed a kiss to his knuckles before drifting off.

When she woke again, sunlight streamed through the crack between the curtains. Dean’s arm was now loosely draped over her waist as he snored lightly.

She contemplated waking him, but decided against it. After the nightmare he’d had, she figured he could use the extra rest. She thought about just lying there or trying to go back to sleep until he woke up, but then her stomach growled loudly. Rolling just enough to look over her shoulder at Dean, she smiled. He looked so peaceful, a welcome contrast to a few hours earlier. She carefully lifted his arm so she could get up without waking him and went into the kitchen to make breakfast.

She was stirring scrambled eggs, flipping bacon, and toasting a bagel while the coffee brewed. Once everything was ready, she set all the bacon on one plate and poured two mugs of coffee. As she started to put the eggs on plates, Dean came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

He huffed. “You know, of all the mornings I would have rather not woken up alone…”

Setting the pan and spatula back on the stove, she spun around in his arms and then stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him. “I’m sorry.” Reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, she continued, “I didn’t expect you to wake up. I was planning on coming back to wake you with breakfast.”

He stole a piece of bacon and ate it. “You’re forgiven.” After a quick kiss on her forehead, he took the plate of bacon and one mug and headed back towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To wait for the rest of my breakfast in bed!” He disappeared from her sight as she laughed.

Quickly, she finished dishing up the eggs and placed them on a tray to bring into the bedroom.

“You know we could have just eaten at the table. You were already up.”

“And pass up the rare opportunity for breakfast in bed?” He scoffed. “No way.”

She set the tray down and situated herself beside him on the bed. He held up a piece of bacon for her, but before she could bite it, he pulled it away and ate it himself. They both fell into a fit of laughter as she pushed him back into the pillows. “So rude!”

“Sorry. Here, for you.” He lifted another piece towards her, but she didn’t move to take it from him.

Instead, she grabbed two pieces off the plate and shoved both in her mouth. While chewing she said, “You thought I was going to fall for that again?”

“Maybe.” He chuckled.

They ate in comfortable silence. When she was done eating, she slowly sipped her coffee. She swirled the dark liquid in the mug before she spoke. “You know, in all the times we have talked about that day, we have never talked about that part before last night.”

“I know.” He sighed. “You never brought it up, and I think I was trying to block it out.”

“Guess I’m lucky. I don’t remember it. There are all these stories about out-of-body experiences and your life flashing before your eyes. All I remember is you beside me in that ambulance and then waking up in the hospital. I feel like I should have realized how much it could have affected you, though.”

Dean shook his head. “No. There’s no reason you could have known that. That’s the first, and hopefully only, time I’ve had that nightmare.”

“There is one reason. It’s why you sometimes fall asleep with your fingers on my pulse like you do, right?”

He glanced down at his coffee mug and shrugged. “I can stop. If it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t.” She reached over to place her hand against his cheek, urging him to look at her. “It brings you some comfort. That could never bother me.”

He kissed her palm softly. “Remember that joke you made last night about ‘just another crappy day at the office’?”

“Yeah.” She dropped her hand back to her lap.

“You’re right. We have lost patients before. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d experienced it. But it has never felt like it did that day.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It's hard to explain, but it didn’t feel like just another patient we might lose. You didn’t feel like a stranger.” Dean looked at her for a moment before dropping his gaze to the bed. “‘Drop the patient at the hospital and never look back.’ It’s not really a rule, but it kind of is.”

She hummed. “Don’t get attached.”

He nodded. “I’ve never broken that rule. Except with you. I went to the hospital that night. I had to know, but you were in the ICU, and I wasn’t family so they wouldn’t tell me much.”

“Wow.” She smiled as she took his hand. “Why haven’t you ever told me that?”

He squeezed her hand. “Felt weird to mention at first. Then, eventually, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. There wasn’t really a time or even a reason to mention it.”

“Well, it’s sweet.” She chuckled. “And it’s nice to know it wasn’t just me.”

A mix of surprise and confusion flashed across his face.

“I didn’t remember much about the accident at first. But I vividly remembered you. You were the first person I thought of when I woke up, and I thought about you so much those two weeks in the hospital. I had actually considered taking a cab to the station before I was given the all-clear to drive.” She chuckled as she remembered walking into the fire station that first time. “I really did want to thank everyone that day at the station, but mostly, I wanted to see you again.”

“And now you’re stuck with me.” He pulled her towards him and smushed her in an awkward hug.

She laughed and pushed herself back just enough to be more comfortable. “Yeah. Who would have thought a near-fatal car crash could actually be one of the best things to ever happen to me?”

He shifted her so she was straddling his legs and hugged her tightly once again. “Can you just do me a favor and stay away from hospital beds for the rest of forever?”

She smirked mischievously. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of figured I’d visit one a few more times in the semi-near future.”

He pulled away to scowl at her.

“Are you saying you don’t want kids? I was thinking two or maybe three. But I plan to do that in a hospital.” He rolled his eyes as she continued. “Because if you're saying you don’t want kids, then I really might have to rethink this whole relationship.”

“You are a smart-ass.” He pulled her closer and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I would love to have kids with you someday. But that is the only reason you’re allowed near a hospital bed, deal?”

She made a show of thinking it over. “Fine, I will do my best. But with my luck, I’m not making you any promises.”

He grumbled. “You could just promise anyway.”

“Fine, if you want me to lie to you. I promise I will.” She rolled her eyes dramatically before climbing off him and off the bed.

“Thank you. Where are you going?”

“Put this in the kitchen,” she explained, grabbing the tray off the bed. She left the room, and he could hear her loading the dishes into the dishwasher before she reappeared in the doorway. “Do you wanna go for a drive today? We can take your Baby. Maybe have a picnic by the lake.”

Images of his nightmare flashed through his memory, and he shuddered. Beckoning her closer, he grabbed her arm to pull her down beside him. “Or we could just watch movies in bed all day.”

#supernatural #dean x reader #firefighter!dean #tell me a story bingo #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #hit and run #firefighter au #spn fanfic #my gif

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