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buckybarnesb-tch · 1 day

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Daemon T. Yandere A-Z

(I couldn’t resist, I needed to make this, this was one of the most requested things I’ve ever had so I hope that you love it!)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Daemon shows affection through physical touch, he always wants to be touching you in some way whether that’s with his arm around your waist, you sat across his lap (which is a near constant position for him to put you in) or possibly just as simple as holding your hand

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•As bloody as physically possible!

•Daemon will protect you with everything he has and the idea of getting bloody will not deter him for a moment. You had better hope that blood doesn’t make you sick to see or smell because with how often Daemon believes (true or not) that men are flirting with his Princess, there’s going to be a lot of bloodstains on his clothes…and yours

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•If you push Daemon too far he can get violent with anyone

•He would never harm you the way he harms other people, however you are in no way exempt from his rage

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•If you try and keep yourself from him then yes, he will absolutely cross any limit he believes he needs to. You are Daemons wife and that means you will perform the duties of a wife as you are meant to as long as you are healthy and strong enough to do so

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Daemon is actually quite open with you about his feelings in your marital bed, which is really the only place he is willing to talk about anything personal or private

•He actually surprises you a bit with how open he is with you on your wedding night. After your third round he snuggled you to his chest to allow you a break and he began talking, ending up telling you quite a lot about himself for much longer than you expected

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Daemon would find it comical to see his cute little wife fighting back

•He will happily pin you down and fuck the fight right out of you for as long as he needs to

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•Daemon does not play games in any facet of his life (unless he’s teasing assholes/idiots like Otto Hightower or Gerold Royce), certainly not in his marriage

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•The worst experience you have with Daemon is when you make the mistake of spending the afternoon that he is out for a ride on Caraxes with an old friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time

•That afternoon was spent in the library getting to know each other all over again, however as he walked you back towards your rooms for the evening, you ran into your husband who did not like you in the company of another man

•Daemon, being Daemon, would not listen to reason and that night your husband took you while covered in the blood of your friend, covering you in his warm, sticky blood while his corpse laid 10 feet away from your bed with his eyes open and unseeing

•Strangely enough, Daemon was happy to comfort you from the nightmares that you suffered for months after the incident

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Daemons plan is to breed you full of as many babies as physically possible

•He plans to fill you with an entire litter of Targaryen babies which is why he spends so much time fucking your cunt as full as he possibly can

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•110% he does!

•You learned on your wedding day that Daemon was a jealous man when you made the mistake of accepting the proposal to dance from a Lannister

•Growing up your mother always taught you to never turn down a request to dance but as you stood behind your husband while he was crouched over the Lion bashing his head in with a wine goblet from the Kings table, you quickly learned that your husband did not want other men to touch you in any way whatsoever

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Daemon is a sweet, loving man…to you and you alone

•No one else should or does expect that kind of treatment from Daemon. The only other people you have hope for are your children since the second you became pregnant Daemon was somehow even more protective of you

•He spends hours every day touching and rubbing your belly, talking to the babies at night in your bed after he has finished fucking you for the evening

•’I want to be sure that they know who I am when they’re born. They’ll know you, you’re their mother but should they not like me I do not know what I would do.’ It was a rare moment of vulnerability that Daemon was showing, something he only did with you.

‘Of course they will know you, my Dragon. You are their father, their protector and they will absolutely adore you!’ You assured him, not liking to see your confident, cocky husband in any kind of self doubting mind set.

‘You always know what to say to calm my nerves…I’m going to keep speaking to them though, just in case.’

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•You found out about Daemons interest the day that you were told you would be marrying the Targaryen prince

•It had only just been announced that his lady wife had passed tragically in a riding accident and then suddenly your father was telling you that the Prince had all but demanded your hand in marriage and your father had no choice but to say yes (not that he would have said anything else)

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Daemon isn’t the type of person to hide who he is, what you see is what you get

•He is just as cocky, sarcastic and angry behind closed doors as he is in public when someone upsets him, the only difference is a soft side with his wife and babies where no one else can see

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•If Daemon has to punish you he prefers to lock you in your chambers until you settle down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but if he has to then you will find it impossible to sit down for a long time

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•You can still do most things, but if you want to go out then you must ask him first

•Being around other men is the only big difference, Daemon doesn’t even want you around your own male family members lest they have an unhealthy obsession with his beautiful wife

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•The man has zero patience and zero chill. None.

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died: Daemon would genuinely be torn up about your death and he would have a hard time being close to the child that you brought into the world before dying on the birthing bed

•Escaped: You would never get beyond the front gate and if you did you would be corralled by an angry Blood Worm Dragon blocking your way so escape wasn’t worth the hassle

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•He will never let you go however, every once in a while he will regret harming you when he lets his anger get the best of him, making up for it in his own way by bringing you gifts or taking you for an evening flight (which he knows is your favorite)

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•The moment he saw you he went to the Vale and murdered his wife to ensure no one (the King) could tell him that he could not have you

•He demanded your hand right after and Viserys said he would have to wait at least a week out of respect and to not seem suspicious before he “asked your hand” despite the fact that everyone knew it was no question, you would be his one way or another and the ‘permission’ just determined whether your father needed to die first

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Daemon hates your tears and when you break down and cry, that is usually the moment he knows that he’s gone too far

•Your husband is the first person to comfort you, especially during your nightmares (that he caused) as he hates seeing you sad or scared

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Daemon would often have Caraxes eat whatever man he suspected had an interest in his wife

•He would also leave you with Caraxes when he had business to attend to, knowing Caraxes had taken a liking to you and would viciously protect you (especially when pregnant), the Dragon loving you quite a lot and enjoying the scratches you gave him when he was ordered to protect you. He had killed countless men and women for getting too close while he was on guard (whether they meant you harm or not)

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•All you had to do is point and someone is dead

•Also if you want Daemon to be soft and sweet, all you need to do is come up with a ‘reason’ to cry, it was the one thing your husband genuinely could not handle seeing

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Never in any way that would have a lasting impact on you

•Locking you in your chambers wasn’t something that ‘hurt you’ and the only pain Daemon ever caused you physically was when you disobeyed him or questioned/challenged his authority in front of others, and even then it was only blistering your ass (which he would then soothe with creams that he had gotten from the maester once you had truly apologized)

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Daemon is obsessed with you, worship is the word most people would use to describe how he looks at you

•Worship actually didn’t quite capture the true feeling once you had announced your first pregnancy to him and the court, he very nearly fucked you right there in front of the King and the Court, his protective streak instantly growing x10 which no one would have thought possible until they witnessed it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Daemon did not ‘pine’ at all

•The moment he met you he decided that you would be his and since your father was actively looking for a husband for you, he immediately took himself to the Vale and ensured the death of his lady wife Rhea Royce

•The only length of time that he waited was the allotted week that his brother ordered him to wait so that no one would think anything that happened had been Daemons doing, and during that week he had fed 3 different lords to Caraxes for daring to try and court you

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Daemon would not want to break you, he wants you to love him and eventually he does make that happen

•You did try to hold out and not fall for his charm, knowing that everyone around suspected that he had killed his wife to marry you so in a sense once you gave yourself over to the feeling of loving him you did ‘break’ in a way but who wouldn’t when they’re being worshipped and loved by a Targaryen Prince and his giant red dragon?

Daemon Targaryen Masterlist

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steddieunderdogfics · 3 days

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for theme weekend 'kid fic' i'll slide in two of my own if you still need more. 'Take Me Home (I Don't Wanna Stay Here)' feat. single dad Eddie and 'You Make Me Feel Like I’m High And Driving' feat. single dad Steve

Take Me Home (I Don't Wanna Stay Here) by RunninRiot

Rating: Mature

24,527 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use

Tags: Minor Character Death, Grief and Loss, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Single Parent Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Hurt Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Friendship/Love, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Friendship, dealing with insecurities, Acceptance, Unintentional Meddling, Found Family, Strangers to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Modern AU - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, coming home, Finding home, Happy Ending

Summary:

It’s not that Steve’s overly excited to be back after not having set foot into Hawkins for almost 5 years now. The mere thought of having to spend the next couple of weeks with his parents makes his skin crawl. But he can’t really blame anyone but himself for this misfortune. He did choose to come home for Christmas on his own account. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself on his flight here, if only not to lose himself to the whirlwind of anxiety and frustration building in his gut. He keeps telling himself that it is a good thing to take some time away from work, from parties and hook ups to think about what his future might hold. What to do and where to go. Find his own centre again. If that entails helping his mother with her stupid party and listening to his father’s lame anecdotes, oh well. He can manage to put up a smiley face for a couple of weeks, it won’t kill him. He’s done that all his life.

You Make Me Feel Like I’m High And Driving by RunninRiot

Rating: Not Rated

16,775 words, 2/2 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use

Tags: Pining, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson Are Best Friends, Eddie Munson in Love, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington has a daughter, background OCs - Freeform, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary:

“Steve Harrington, you idiot! I’m talking about Steve Harrington. The one that always had you drooling like a puppy, back at high school? Do you not remember?” She’s laughing now, loud and on the brink of hysterical at the bedazzled look on Eddie’s face, the latter suddenly feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. Of course, he remembers. How could he forget the name that haunted his every dream for so many years? A name that still sounds like a love song to his ears because Steve was his first love and a tragic one at that. One that never was and yet still mysteriously seems to have a place in Eddie’s heart where it lives to this day.

Thanks for the recs!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Kid Fic.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #theme weekend #kid fic #steddie dads #dad steve harrington #dad eddie munson #parent steddie #rated m #not rated #modern au

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.

After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.

‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.

“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.

“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.

“He was not,” Eddie confirms.

“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.

“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.

Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”

Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.

“You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”

There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.

“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.

Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”

“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”

“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”

“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.

“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.

“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”

Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”

The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.

“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.

“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”

“Eddie…”

“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”

Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.

“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.

“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.

“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.

“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.

“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.

“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”

Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”

“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.

“Think so?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.”

“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”

Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.

Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.

It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.

It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.

In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.

“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.

“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.

“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.

It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.

Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.

“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.

“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”

In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.

“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Eddie…”

“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.

“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”

“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.

It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.

“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”

Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”

“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”

“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.

“Steve–”

“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”

“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”

“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.

“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.

Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.

It hurts, but it’s fair.

“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.

Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.

“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”

“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.

“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”

That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”

“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”

“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”

It’s better than an outright ‘no.’

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”

(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)

Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.

“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.

He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.

But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.

If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.

Part 5

Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e

I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!

#steddie #eddie & wayne #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #I write wayne once a year so here's my annual allotted amount I guess #listen you know I love hurt/comfort and I love happy endings but one thing you should never expect from me is consistent chapter lengths #things happen as they happen!

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tacticaldiary · 7 months

Text

A Fighting Chance

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

Part 2, Masterlist,

"What're those?"

"Papers."

Ghost pauses halfway through opening the document, glancing up at the curtness of her voice. "Papers? She doesn't meet his eyes, gaze fixed on the table of the little booth they're sitting in.

The ice in her drink is long gone, watering down her coffee into something that tastes as bitter as her heart.

It had taken months for her to finally make this decision. Days of talking with her lawyer, crying alone at night and coming to the gruelling acceptance that this was for the best. It was best for both of them.

There's not many things that unsettle Simon. He's had blood stain his hands; his own, his comrades, and his enemies. Had almost any injury you could think of marring his skin, been prodded and ripped into, been the one on the opposite end of the knife.

But as he slides out the documents, turns them over, Simon's never felt more apprehensive.

He stills, reading the first few lines, clenching his jaw. "What is this?"

"I want a divorce."

And something in him crumbles at her defeated tone. Like she's already decided. Like he doesn't even have a chance to ask why or talk it through.

"No." He says tightly, putting them down and crossing his arms.

Her gaze shoots to his. "You can't just say that."

"I did. I won't sign them."

"I want this." She argues, and Simon swallows back the lump in his throat at how utterly tired she looks.

"I don't."

She's the light of his life, the one good, untouched piece of joy he gets to see. Something other than the bloodshed and violence he lives in.

"Simon," She says, shoulders sagging forward. "I can't do this anymore."

"This isn't the solution, love." He feels like his skin is crawling, the beginnings of unfamiliar panic clawing at his chest when she doesn't react to the pet name.

Doesn't smile, doesn't flush that beautiful red, doesn't squirm.

When she doesn't respond again, tight-lipped and clammed up and so determined to not look at him, he asks the question burning a hole through his tongue.

"Why?"

Deep down he knows. Knew this was coming but that part of him is buried under the thudding of his heart, and the rush of blood in his ears. Everything feels deathly still and moving too fast at the same time.

"Why?" She repeats, something in her stirring at the question. Her brow furrows and she switches from a cautious indifference to disbelief and frustration quicker than Simon can process. "Are you serious?" She huffs out an incredulous laugh. "You're away for months at a time and I'm supposed to what? Wait for you at our doorstep and wag my tail all happy when you finally come back to me?" Her grip tightens on her drink.

"Even when you are home, it's never about us. Never about me and you. You lock yourself in your study with your work, don't talk to me unless you come out for dinner or lunch. When was the last time we went out?" She demands. "When was the last time we went on a date? The last time we slept at the same time in the same bed?"

Simon clenches his jaw but says nothing, at a loss for words. It only encourages her to keep going, spewing thoughts that have been boiling over for the past few years.

"You barely look at me when we're home, I had to drag you out of the house to get here! You left halfway through our anniversary dinner last year because work called you in. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like you're only with me because it's easier than leaving and starting over, and that fucking hurts. It hurts when you can't bear to spend five minutes with me away from work. I've been telling you this for ages but you just...you don't listen to me." She leans forward, drink completely forgotten and hits the final nail in the coffin.

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

"I never even know if you're coming home to me." Her voice cracks, and she hugs her middle, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "So yes, Simon, I want to separate. I'm not happy, not like I was when I met you." A sheen of tears she refuses to let fall.

"You can focus on work like you love to, and I can...I can move on."

It was so good when they started out. She found him endearing, dry humour and brooding and all. It was special, those first few years, and she'll always care about him but this...this waiting, this hurting, laying in bed at night alone and cold and crying...it wasn't right. It wasn't what she wanted and she wouldn't force Simon to want it when he clearly didn't want to.

"Fucking hell, I love you." Simon says quickly, stumbling over what to say. He reaches out for her hand on the table, but she pulls it away before he can grab it. It stings more than he can convey, makes the reality crashes down onto him.

He's about to lose her.

Because he couldn't fucking bear to pull himself out of being 'Ghost'.

It was always a rough couple of weeks during his leave. The adjustment to civilian life was a slow one for him, but that's not really an excuse at all.

"I don't think you do."

Simon blinks at her like she's slapped him. "You...you don't think so?" He repeats, running a hand through his hair. She nods, one nod, quick and so sure that it makes his chest ache.

Fuck. He's absolutely messed up.

"Everything's finalised on my end." She says. "You just need to sign them." Her voice is soft, almost like she's coaxing him.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's not touching those fucking papers. He's not losing someone he loves again.

"I'll take time off." He says, the intensity of his gaze makes a shiver run down her spine. "We can work through it, yeah? You can't spring this on me and not give me a chance to protest."

She shakes her head, "You're only taking time off because I'm upset." She tries to explain. "What do you think is going to happen? We spend a month together doing what we used to, and when everything's a little more stable you leave again. Distance yourself. Shut me out. Then we're back to square one."

"Won't happen." He says like he hasn't been doing it for the past few years already. "You...I can't lose you, darling." He leans forward. "Let me make it better. Give me a few months-"

"Simon-"

"A week."

"A week?" Her eyes widen. "A week to...what, prove that you'll change?"

"One week."

She worries her lip between her teeth, considering. One week wasn't a long time, but hope was dangerous in a situation like this.

"I'm not letting you go over something like this." Simon says. "I can't."

"This isn't about you." She crosses her arms. "You really think you can turn just...reverse the past few years in a week?" Maybe it's foolish of her to want him to say yes, to fight for her and realise that she's been hurting, but goddamn doesn't a small part of her scream at him to do it anyway.

"Not trying to reverse it." He folds his arms, and she can see the tense line of his shoulders as he takes in the situation, gears turning in his head as he plans how he's going to work his way out of a situation so precious and daunting as this.

Part of him didn't think it would ever come to this. Yes, he can be cold and aloof but Simon thought she knew that he loved her through it all. No matter what.

When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?

Fuck if that doesn't tear through his chest more painfully than any caliber bullet ever could.

He takes her in quietly for a moment.

The woman he fell in love with. The person that gave him a reason to keep going, a motive to feel anything other than the cold efficientness of loading a gun and firing. Soft touches and warm smiles, something so at odds with the rough life he's used to.

Sitting there in front of him, she looks more beautiful than he remembers, and it only proves to make his stomach sink like a stone at the notion of seeding any doubt about his feelings in her heart.

A right fucking bastard he was for it.

"I'm sorry." He breathes out, much softer than the gruff voice he's been using with her. "I'll do better. Just give me a chance, yeah?"

For one horrible moment, Simon thinks she'll decline. That she'll slide over the papers again and demand he sign them.

But she considers his words for a moment before nodding once.

And it's all he needs.

A fighting chance.

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Part 2

(11/10/2023)

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bluebeary-jay · 9 months

Text

Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #young joel miller #sarah miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

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nxuvillette · 3 months

Text

“I PROMISE, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.”

GENSHIN MEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A FIGHT

synopsis: you and your boyfriend hardly ever fight, so what happens when you finally have one?

❥- including : tartaglia (childe), cyno, kaeya, wriothesley

❥- note : hi guys !! sorry if this post is kind of shit, i kind of rushed it. i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, angst, arguing, hurt with comfort, use of pet names (baby), fluff, dumb fights, lots and lots of fluff at the end.

♡ TARTAGLIA (CHILDE)

you and childe hadn’t spoken for much of the day, and this was due to an argument that happened between you two just before you sat down for some breakfast.

it was stupid, genuinely.

childe had completely misinterpreted something you had said that morning. you were talking about one of your friends and their relationship. for some reason, childe thought you were comparing your relationship to the one your friend had, and it made him question if he was doing enough to make you happy. one thing led to another, and the two of you bickered over the encounter. you tried to explain yourself, but your boyfriend, being the stubborn man he was, didn’t bother to listen and went off on his own accord.

you and childe hardly had any fights. they would usually resolve after an hour or two, but you hadn’t seen him all day. part of you began to grow worried from his sudden absence. did he go out and do something to hurt himself? was he with somebody else? no, there was no way childe would ever cheat on you. he didn’t even look in another woman’s direction when he saw you that day.

it wasn’t until sunset when childe had finally returned home to you. he had a few scrapes on his arms which seemed like they came from him battling another enemy, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. you were very relieved to see that he was fine. it made you run into his arms the moment he came into the door, which took your boyfriend by surprise. he was under the impression that you were still pissed off at him for the shit that he had pulled early on in the day. he knew he was wrong and he should have apologized, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. sometimes he wished he wasn’t so air headed.

his arm went around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. the smell of his skin made you calm down. “i thought something bad happened to you..” your eyes didn’t move from the floor.

childe could sense the worry that was in your voice. he shouldn’t have done that to you. he would never want to make you feel scared or put you under the idea that he would leave you. he wasn’t going to ever leave like that again, ever. “i’m sorry, baby..” he whispered, running his fingers along your backside. “i’m such an idiot.. i shouldn’t have said that shit. i love you way too much to hurt you..”

you lifted your head to meet his ocean blue eyes. he had this frown on his features. you could see how guilty he felt for putting you in such a position. no matter what, you would always be in love with childe. no small argument would make your feelings for him shift, ever. you knew he could be stubborn at times, and honestly, so could you. all that mattered to you in the end was that you two made up and forget the whole thing. “it’s okay.. i still love you, okay?” you smiled at him, which made his heart skip a beat.

childe couldn’t help but smile, too. he leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips. he didn’t ever want to see you frown again. he would do anything to see a smile on your pretty face. “let me make up for it.. how about we take a bath together, hm?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

you nodded your head. “sure..” you grinned.

♡ CYNO

you didn’t expect cyno to get upset earlier.

cyno was in a bit of a rush that afternoon. he had a lot of things to tend to as the mahamatra, so he typically had a busy schedule. at the time, you had no idea that he had to be somewhere at a certain hour, so when you saw your lover wandering around aaru village by himself, you decided to go and talk with him to ask how his day was.

he kept his responses to you a bit shorter than usual, but that’s how he usually was. cyno was more the type of man to listen more than he did talk, but the more you kept speaking, the more he grew somewhat irritated. he had to meet with candace and discuss something that had occurred on his way there. he had to return as quickly as possible, though, because there were several people who needed his help out there.

cyno had accidentally snapped at you, which in turn made you fire back at him.

it was very out of the ordinary for him to ever get angry with you. cyno was very patient, and he was especially with you. he was never the kind of man to be rude to you or yell at you, ever, so this threw you off completely. before he could even apologize, you left and went back to the place you two shared together.

he didn’t return home until later that night. he had been thinking about what he had done all day, and it made him feel guilty for being that way towards you. you were his girlfriend. he loved you more than anybody else, and he managed to hurt your feelings because he was unable to control his very own. cyno hoped you wouldn’t want to leave him. anxiety plagued him the entire day. he wondered if he would return back to you and find that you deserted the home you two stayed in.

much to his relief, you were lying in bed. you were turned on your side that was facing the window which exposed the vast desert outside. he sat down beside you and watched as your eyes fluttered open at the sudden weight taking over the bed.

“i’m sorry..” cyno whispered, looking down at you with amber eyes.

you sat up, crossing your legs on the mattress. you didn’t think he would come back being so apologetic, but you couldn’t help but forgive him. it did hurt your feelings a lot, but he was dealing with so much. it didn’t excuse what he did, but you two never fight. he wasn’t argumentative everyday. “it’s okay.. i just felt like shit for bothering you. i should have considered your schedule..” you didn’t want to look at him, but he tilted your chin to look into your eyes.

cyno leaned in and hugged you, which took you by surprise. “no need.. i was an asshole for not controlling myself. you didn’t deserve any of that..” he squeezed your body. “i love you.. i hope you can forgive me.”

your hand rested on his shoulder blade. his skin felt warm from the blazing heat of the sun that he was under constantly. “i love you too..” you spoke. “i can forgive you, no worries.”

♡ KAEYA

you and kaeya had been dating for quite a while. since you were his girlfriend, there were some things that you needed to get accustomed to in the relationship.

especially kaeya’s drinking habit.

you didn’t mind that he would go off to the bars some nights to have a few drinks with his friends. hell, you did it a few times yourself with your own friends, but it became an issue when he would come late to your dates due to him being hungover the next day. you knew he couldn’t help but sleep an extra hour or two through the morning, but it had happened a few times and it led up to an argument occurring between you. you claimed it was a bother to you and he wasn’t being considerate of your time and energy.

what made it worse was kaeya usually was the one to make these plans, so for him to just not show up, it felt unfair to you. if he knew he was going to drink a lot, why would he continue to make plans with you the next day? it didn’t make any sense to you whatsoever, and you were tired of him either not showing up or having to go to his house to wake him up.

when you stormed out of his house and the door slammed behind you, kaeya felt immediate regret plaguing his chest. he did everything for you in the relationship and you did the same for him. he felt like he was an idiot for letting his drinking habits get a hold of your relationship. he didn’t have a drinking problem by any means, but he knew when he had too much he wouldn’t want to do anything the next day. you were right. it was unfair of him to miss out on spending quality time with you. he didn’t want to make you feel unimportant or a second priority. kaeya loved you more than life itself. how could he hurt the one person he poured his heart and soul into?

he gave you a bit of time to blow off steam. he knew chasing after you could escalate things further, so he decided to leave you alone for the rest of the day. however, he wasn’t about to let you both go to bed angry with each other.

so, when he showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you were quite surprised. you didn’t think kaeya would even bother making an effort to talk things through with you, but he was standing there with an apologetic expression. “can we talk? i understand if not.. but i just don’t want you going to bed pissed at me.” he clutched the flower stems in his hand, hoping you would hear him out.

you nodded your head, inviting him into your home and watching him step inside. kaeya then turned to face you, handing the flowers in your direction. they were your favorite, lamp grass. you loved the way they glowed in the dark. “kaeya.. i’m-“ you started, taking the flowers from him.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to keep missing out on our dates. i was a shitty boyfriend for keeping up with my behavior, and i shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.” he cut you off, shocking you. “i love you, (y/n), and i don’t want you to think otherwise.”

you stood there for a few moments in silence. you weren’t sure what to say to him, but you could sense his genuine energy in his voice. “i forgive you..” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his. “i don’t want it to happen again, okay? i love to spend time with you and i don’t wanna feel like you dislike my presence.”

he took your free hand into his, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. he had been a gentleman since day one and it seemed like that attribute of him never left his personality. “i love seeing you more than anybody else, please don’t think you’re a burden. i’d do anything to spend any waking moment with you by my side, okay? i won’t ever do it again.” kaeya replied, stepping closer to where you were standing.

you smiled, pressing a kiss on the side of his cheek. he loved how soft your lips felt against his skin. “i appreciate that..” you sounded much happier, which relieved him.

kaeya wasn’t going to do that ever again. he could never lose you, ever.

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley was quite a busy man. it was something you knew you were signing up for when you started to date him a few months back. his job was tiring, exhausting even. he had a huge responsibility on his shoulders to carry, and sometimes it stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

it seemed like that stress began to reach its breaking point, because wriothesley hadn’t been acting right over the last few days. you assumed he was just dealing with his job, so you decided to try and see if venting would have any relief to your boyfriend. you two had done it many times before when things got a little hectic in your personal lives. plus, you both trusted each other greatly. you didn’t think he would have an issue with it.

well, you were wrong, unfortunately.

when you made the attempt to speak to your boyfriend about what was wrong, he had a serious attitude, and things escalated to you two both having a fight. you didn’t like the way he was speaking to you and he was becoming upset with you for no reason at all. all you had asked him was if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like that question alone must have ruffled his feathers.

you two never fought, so this had completely blindsided you.

wriothesley then left for work, leaving you by yourself in the apartment you lived in. it wasn’t your intention to make him angry with you. all you wanted to know was what was troubling him to make him feel so overwhelmed. that fact crept up on wriothesley immediately after he entered his office at the fortress. he shouldn’t have snapped at you that way. it wasn’t right, nor was it excusable. he was the one person who was supposed to make you happy, not hurt.

a few hours later, he returned home a lot earlier than usual. things were slow at the fortress, so he decided to leave early and try to patch things up with you. he found you sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, seemingly trying to read away what had happened earlier between you. you were a bit taken back to see him standing in front of you, but you didn’t know what to say to him.

“i’m sorry.. i was out of line earlier.” he broke the silence between you. it was like popping a balloon. “i get it if you’re pissed at me.. i can give you space if you’d like.”

you sat there for a few moments. you closed the book in your hands and placed it on the wooden table in front of you. wriothesley was right. he shouldn’t have been that much of an ass to you. you didn’t deserve such treatment, but you loved him. he was never like that towards you and your friends had told you before that random fights are normal. “it’s okay.. i forgive you.” you replied, standing up to go in front of him. “please.. just promise me you won’t do that again.”

his hands went to cup your cheeks. his thumbs brushed against your smooth skin. you could see how guilty he felt for doing what he had done. “i promise.. i swear, (y/n), i’ll never do that again. i could never hurt you like that, ever again.” he looked down at you with sincerity on his features.

you leaned in to hug him. wriothesley inhaled the fresh scent of your shampoo and felt immediately calmed from your touch. he loved you, dearly. he could never do that to you again and he vowed to never pull a stunt like that with you ever again.

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vixstarria · 6 months

Text

Intimacy

Hello friends, have some soft Act 2 Astarion.

Astarion’s struggle with sex and intimacy. Connected with my other fics but is a standalone, per usual.

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, soft Astarion

Hurt/comfort, some fluff if you squint, love, angst, mutual pining, Act 2 spoilers, some fairly softcore smut

Approximately 1,600 words.

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he told you. You’d replayed that conversation over and over countless times in your mind, since.

You had no idea what you were doing either. Oh, navigating an ordinary relationship was simple enough, and you’d had your fair share of those – even if they’d all ended in disappointment at best, so far. Being with someone who’d just escaped 200 years of abuse, however... That was something new.

“I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex.”

Well that was a fuck-up. He was walking sex. ...Most likely due to sheer force of habit, so necessary for survival over all those years, but still.

“I love you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...

You were in over your head too. Completely. Hopelessly. In love with this catastrophe of a man.

What were you to do with him now?

Wait for him to take the lead in every physical interaction? It wasn’t in your nature to be so passive. He knew this. And you were sure he would love to be treated like spurned glass all of a sudden.

Continue as you were? Even though now all you could think about was whether a touch might bring up a repulsive memory? Assume that you could singlehandedly overwrite centuries of disgust and loathing, overnight? How presumptuous and overbearing that would have been.

Communicate? Ask? Listen? Sure. Absolutely. You did. Or tried, anyway. You were about as good at talking about these things as he was. And you didn’t really trust him to be completely honest at this point. Whether with you or his own self.

And so you explored. Slowly, cautiously and attentively.

The most innocent touches seemed to bring him an inordinate amount of joy. You weren’t surprised.

Passing him a vial of poison for his weapons and letting your fingers brush and caress one another’s, briefly. Wordlessly running a stray hand along his waist and planting a quick kiss under his ear while you walked past him as he stood talking with someone. Lingering with your foreheads or noses touching lightly after a kiss.

He leaped at any opportunity to massage your sore muscles or help you apply a salve, and you let him. It seemed he wanted to take care of you, and was working out all the ways how.

He still pleasured you in different ways, at times.

“You don’t have to...”

“I want to,” he said.

He just chose to keep his own pants on, now. You weren’t sure about his motivations. Could it be guilt? Or a misguided sense of self-worth? Did he still think this is all he was good for? Or, maybe you were completely overthinking it, and he was still just desperately horny, even if taking a step back. He was more present than before though, you could tell that much.

You considered his reactions to other forms of touch, careful not to make your observation obvious.

He hated being scratched. The entire area of his back covered in scars was off-limits for anything but embraces. He enjoyed playful bites, both giving and receiving. And more than anything, he loved holding you close, feeling as much of your body at once as possible, basking in its warmth.

In turn, you were more than happy to wrap yourself around him when you could.

“Why do you even like this?” he asked, apprehensive about it at first. “You don’t need to pretend for my sake. I can’t give you any warmth.”

“I can give you mine,” you said, simply. “Besides, you obviously don’t remember what it’s like to lie in a puddle of sweat with someone who runs hot. This is a nice change.” you added after a moment of contemplation.

You meant what you said, but you were dying to drag him into a hot bath, just to know what it would feel like for him to be warmed through. Maybe you’d get the chance once you got to Baldur’s Gate.

There happened to be a private room available at Last Light Inn that night. The group unanimously agreed that you and Astarion would take it, while the rest of your companions bunked in the common.

“For Shar’s sake, piss off, none of us want to see or hear you two,” were the exact words of their blessing, delivered by Shadowheart. Karlach sanctified it by throwing a (deftly dodged) half-eaten apple at Astarion’s head.

“Especially not hear!”

“I know this may come as a shock, but I’m actually not too fond of beds,” he said.

“New memories, Astarion,” you shook your head. “Beds are non-negotiable. I wasn’t too fond of rutting in the dirt either.”

“I’ll never grow tired of how poetic you are,” he smiled, unceremoniously throwing his gear on the floor. “New memories, you say?”

A while later, you were straddling Astarion’s hips as he sat shirtless on the edge of the bed.

“You know, you never did tell me what you like,” you sighed, your fingers in his hair as he kissed your neck.

“Oh, what does anyone like? It’s all the same in the end,” he said, running his hands along your thighs.

“That’s not true,” you murmured in his ear. “I can show you some things that are pretty unique to you right now,” you said and ran the tip of your tongue along the lower inner edge of his ear, making him shudder and let out a small moan.

“You little devil, when did you figure that out?” he breathed.

“When I happened to brush your ear a while back, like this,” you giggled, repeating the hand movement on his other ear, making him catch his breath slightly again, “and you just about started purring.”

He just chuckled in response.

“So what other secrets are you hiding?” you purred, kissing around his ear. “I might just need to kiss and caress every inch of your body to find out.”

"Sounds like a terrible chore,” he said, falling back onto the bed and pulling you with him. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Shut up and let me cherish you.”

You kissed down along one side his neck, slowly, taking your time, pausing to lightly lick or nibble on any spot that made him hitch his breath. He was putty in your hands by the time you reached his collarbone.

“Just don’t go any lower,” he said breathlessly.

You hummed your agreement. You couldn’t handle going any lower yourself – you were completely intoxicated with the scent of his skin and the sound of his sighs of pleasure, if you went any lower, you would keep going, and you didn’t think it was a day for that yet.

You continued up the other side of his neck instead.

You hesitated for a moment before your lips reached the bite marks left by Cazador, but Astarion made no indication that he didn’t want you to keep going, and so you continued. He let out a soft whimper as your lips brushed the scars.

“No?” you pulled back slightly, your hot breath still on his skin. He was lying with his eyes shut, head thrown back, neck completely exposed to you.

“Yes...” he whispered, hoarsely. “Very yes... Softly...”

You continued, lingering with your lips on the scars, as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, snapping them against his own and grinding you against an unmistakable erection.

“I want you to make those marks your own... Yours and no one else’s...” he rasped.

This is probably a mistake, you thought, but you could barely help yourself as you moaned into his neck and ran your tongue over the scars, making him growl and grind you into himself harder. The friction, the knowledge that he wanted it too was driving you mad.

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop that,” you begged.

“Go ahead,” he groaned.

“Not without you.”

Something in the energy changed then, and you lifted yourself off him, sitting up. Astarion stayed on his back a moment longer, before exhaling and also raising himself into a sitting position. You were still on his lap, facing him.

“Listen,” he took your face in both hands, looking into your eyes intensely. “I want you so fucking bad, it hurts. I want to tear your clothes off and ravage you until you’re speaking in tongues. I do.” His voice was hoarse. He paused, before continuing. “But even more than that, I want to remember this, remember you, and not have any of the dirt from my past mixed into it. It’s difficult enough to keep it at bay as it is.” His eyes teared up at that. “And right now, for now, this is the only way I know how to do that.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang from your eyes.

“No, you sweet idiot, you haven’t done anything wrong. I love you.” He gathered you in his arms, kissing away your tears as his own started to roll down. He sighed. “Great, now no one is coming, and everyone is crying.”

You both burst out laughing as soon as those words were out of his mouth.

You held each other a while longer, him stroking your back, before you broke the silence.

“So the bite scars are pretty erogenous then?”

“Extremely. Use that knowledge at your own risk and peril, darling.”

He lifted your chin for a kiss.

“Shall we go piss everyone off for a while, maybe steal Lae’zel’s boots, then come back here for more ‘memories’?” he asked.

“Sounds childish and dangerous. I’m in.”

You needed to clear your head too.

Maybe tomorrow would be the day one of you would get closer to knowing what it was you were doing, and tell the other. Until then, at least you were in it together.

~~~~~

The “I love you” is not canon for Act 2, but it is my headcanon, damnit.

Like what you just read? Huzzah, there’s more! - Series master list

Next in series - Communication

AO3

#astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #softcore smut #bg3 smut #astarion smut

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ki-yomii · 3 months

Text

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby.

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style.

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?”

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest.

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir.

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss.

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

Text

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you.

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better.

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either.

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring.

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there.

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows.

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?”

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.”

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside.

“Nice, nice. What else?”

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.”

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening.

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.”

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself.

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.”

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.”

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.”

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice.

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.”

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.”

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.”

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless.

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.”

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart.

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.”

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again.

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle.

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life.

“Then I’m on my way.”

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime.

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”

You shake your head and gasp a small sob.

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders.

His hand smooths over the back of your hair.

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear.

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.”

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight.

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?”

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.”

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.”

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea.

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave.

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.

At least, until he goes home.

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up.

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you.

“That among other things.”

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?”

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does.

“Okay.”

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

His lips pull into a melancholy smile.

“Anytime.”

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist.

“I can’t do that, honey.”

“Why not?”

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently.

“Because we’re not together anymore.”

“Why not?”

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is.

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down.

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.”

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.”

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke.

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.”

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again.

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.”

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales.

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.”

When he kisses you, it feels like home.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

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kinopio-writes · 2 months

Note

Hi! Would you be willing to write something for Adam with a sensitive reader?

Everyone knows that he is loud-mouthed jerk, even reader, and she loves him regardless, but one day he crosses the line and says something particularly mean that makes her cry. Like REAL mean. To the point that he pauses because he did not think before speaking (or, well, less than usual lol)

I'm happy with whatever format you feel like using! Thank you!

A/N: I will be more than delighted to write that for you. But would you excuse me for a moment? AHHHHHHDISJDIOEOFJSKXJND—I’m sorry; I love this idea so much. Reading ‘Adam with a sensitive reader’ got me hooked instantly. But I’ll go over that in the headcanons, along with the general stuff. And I’ll add a oneshot at the end that plays the exact scenario of Adam taking it too far.

Holy sh!t. I made it so that the reader being sensitive is their greatest but also weakest point and it turned out pretty angsty. Has a bit of hurt/comfort, though. Did I go overboard? Maybe. That’s why it took so long. Sorry, anon.

Words: 2,328 (edited the end a bit because it didn’t sit right with me)

Warnings: Sex is mentioned (only a bit, surprisingly), Angst, Adam being Adam

———

Adam w/ a Sensitive!Reader

• ha, this man is also sensitive himself

• well, sensitive about himself

• he feels his own emotions strongly, so he’s not the caring, easily able to pick up on other’s feelings and empathize type of sensitive

• you, on the other hand, are on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to Adam

• so you experience other people’s emotions just as strongly as yours

• you easily know what makes someone tick

• you’re selfless

• you’re able to admit your mistakes and apologize

• you’re respectful and actively listen to people when they talk about themselves

• you don’t push people down to make yourself seem better

• you try to make everyone feel good and comfortable

• you’re everything he isn’t

• because you fit in Heaven perfectly

• you deserve to be there

• and Adam knows that he doesn’t belong (subconsciously at least)

• you’re able to draw people in just for being yourself

• and he’s envious of it

• so he demeans you and is snarky about everything you do, and every time people give you praise or affection, he tries to divert the attention to himself or just stares at you with utter hatred from afar

• although all of that is just when he hasn’t even had a conversation with you

• after a while of being around you, he’ll cling to you because you give him the reassurance and validation he oh-so craves (he acts as if he didn’t hate you before. What do you mean? You two were always buddy-buddy!)

• you acknowledge all of the things he puts his worth to

• heck, you hang out with him—you sometimes even initiate it—willingly, and you’re genuinely interested in everything he has to say

• but he‘ll only hang out with you where no one recognizes you (so you don’t get all the attention)

• terrible transition here, but he notices that you mimic people’s expressions often

• he definitely makes fun of you for it

• and also mocks you

• up until he realizes that you do the same thing to him, too

• which is fine and all, if only you didn’t do that when he’s upset

• well, you mimic him when he’s joyous as well, but he (already subconsciously) expects you to. I mean, why wouldn’t you? He’s fucking hilarious!

• so you copying his negative emotions just stands out more

• and he…doesn’t like it

• that’s only really what he doesn’t like about you

• and the fact that you hog all the attention

• and the fact that people see you as perfect…

• buuut what happens when he gets to see a new side of you that isn’t exactly upholding that image?

———

Your phone lit up from your bedside table, brightening your otherwise dark room along with the soft glow of your halo. You only moved your eyes to the light, not wanting your tears to spill and dampen your pillows.

You had an inkling as to who was texting you this late—if the fact that your phone lighting up several times in the span of 5 minutes had anything to say.

When the texts stopped pouring in after a few seconds, you heavily sighed, wings ruffling. You resisted the urge to rub your face as you went to grab your phone.

HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) ARE YOU UP? (2:35) I’M BORED (2:35) GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE (2:36) IF YOU’RE UP (2:37) ARE YOU? (2:38) DID I TELL YOU THAT BITCH WITH THE HUGE TITS GOT FIRED TODAY? (2:39)

Figured. Of course, it was Adam. He was the only person you knew who’d be awake at this ungodly hour. And the only person you knew who’d disturb your peace if it meant curing anything that ailed him. Which was now about boredom, it seemed.

You read a few of his texts displayed on your lock screen before tapping one of the notifications and opening the app, scanning the rest of the unread messages.

Adam was going on about ‘that bitch with the huge tits’—her name was Tiffany, you were sure—and how she was rumored to have slept with an archangel to assume higher authority. He also went on to complain about how he didn’t have the chance to bed her anymore since she was basically deemed an outcast and that he couldn’t be seen with someone like her.

You frowned, not believing any of it, but you didn’t have time to think about it enough when he began typing again.

SO YOU’RE AWAKE (2:43)

You barely finished reading the new message when another one popped up.

DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH (2:43)

You frowned deeper, quick to type out a reply.

i’m not (2:43) i was just reading your texts (2:43) don’t worry (2:43) i’ll be there soon (2:44)

When he stopped typing, you placed your phone back on the nightstand, sitting up on your bed as you carefully wiped away your teary eyes. You hugged yourself for a moment, wings functioning as a cocoon while a hand tugged on your hair.

Today had been draining—both mentally and emotionally. Just like the day before, and the day before that. But you didn’t want to think about it, lest you start to cry some more and smear your face with tears this time. What mattered was that everyone was back on their feet again.

Since you didn’t bother changing into your sleepwear when you got home, you only checked your face in the mirror to see if your eyes were puffy or not. You then took in deep breaths, holding up your drooping wings before putting up a charming smile.

You couldn’t stay in the bathroom for long, quickly leaving to tread the path to Adam’s.

•••

“BOO!” Adam’s masked face suddenly peeked from the corner of his hallway, earning an indescribable scream from you as you jerked back. He burst out laughing, brows creased in confusion but also amusement. He couldn’t even make fun of you for getting scared. “What the—what the fuck was that scream?”

Recovering rather quickly as you blinked, you only smiled at him. You were expecting him to wait for you on his couch as his front door was left unlocked, but you weren’t complaining; his action took away any drowsiness you just had.

When Adam didn’t hear you laugh with him, his laughter subsided as he opened his eyes to look at your face. He raised his brows and placed the back of his hands on his hips. “What’s up with you?”

Shit. There was no way Adam was seeing through you.

“Nothing; I just love hearing you laugh.” You heard a tiny squeak in response. “Anyway, what did you make me come over for? Surely not just to scare me.” You moved past Adam and tightly crossed your arms, entering his spacious living room.

“Pshh, fuck no. You’re so easy to spook. Though that was a first. Didn’t know you could hit high notes, (Name).”

You didn’t know what to say to his…compliment? And sort of insult? Was it really either of them? Should you thank him? But in a sarcastic way? No, you weren’t known for being sarcastic, so he might think you were being genuine and look at you weirdly. And it would also seem highly egotistical.

Not as if Adam had much to say about that…

You tugged at your hair when you caught yourself with those thoughts. Shit, that’s so rude! You can’t think that! You shouldn’t think that!

You settled on an awkward chuckle, making yourself appear smaller as you averted your eyes to his TV space.

It was different, certainly. The modular couch pieces were rearranged into a pit sectional. And it looked as though he had chucked a bunch of pillows and one large blanket as an afterthought. It appeared messy, but at least it looked cozy.

“What’s this?”

“Hm? Oh, well, since you were taking your sweet ass time coming here, I thought to switch things up a bit.” You flinched when his head appeared right on your shoulder. “What’d ya think?”

“It looks super comfy.” Adam wore a goofy grin behind you as you walked closer to the area and noticed that he already prepared snacks on the low table. “Is this a way to say you wanna do a movie marathon?”

“You know it, baby.” He flew past you and landed on the sofa, patting the space beside him with a smile you just couldn’t reject.

•••

Heaven’s natural light beginning to peek through the open windows indicated that it was already dawn. Thank goodness you didn’t have work today.

You two—or rather, Adam—had settled on watching the film series, Die Hard. Every single one. You didn’t mind, but you didn’t understand why Adam invited you over if you two were just going to rewatch the film series for the eighth time.

He had also been pretty immersed in the large screen in front of him, so he hadn’t attempted to converse with you ever since the first movie started. In all honesty, he could have just watched them all by himself.

But you didn’t question it. This time was the same as the last seven, after all. You always concluded that maybe he just wanted someone to watch movies with, no talking necessary. Even if the no-talking part sounded a bit out of character.

Was it though? Because he did that quite often. For instance, he constantly brought you along to whatever mundane errands he had to do during the weekdays and never really talked with you unless he found something cool and pointed it out.

Although, the earlier times you tagged along with him on his errands, he kept yapping his mouth off about the ‘totally awesome’ things he does. He talked about music, his own albums, his band, women, sex, and himself as the first-ever man.

As time went on, however, the talking was replaced with silence. You wondered if he just ran out of things to say or if he found it unnecessary to talk anymore.

You also sometimes wondered what was going through his head when he thought you didn’t see him glancing at you while he was doing something he believed was boring.

The sound of Adam’s stomach rumbling broke you out of your train of thought.

You both looked at each other blankly as if either of you were to blame.

He blinked to break the eye contact between you. “(Name), I’m hungry.”

You snorted, facing ahead. “You ate all of our snacks before the first movie even finished.”

“Don’t blame me.” He hugged the pillow he held tighter. “I’m still fuckin’ hungry, though.”

You hummed as you reached for your pocket. “Do you want me to—oh. I…I forgot my phone.” You frowned. You never forget to bring your belongings.

Adam merely stared at you, unblinking.

You averted your eyes and held your legs tighter. “Uhm, We could get delivery if you want. Can you lend me your phone?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He casually tossed you the device before laying on his back and looking up at you. “I’m down for anything.”

His phone hit your knee before you could catch it, silently landing on the cushions. “Are you sure?” You picked it up, opened his unlocked phone, and stared at his basic home screen.

He didn’t really use his phone that often to know that it could be changed. He only really used it to fetch one-night stands or occasional dates, text, play music aloud, look at outdated memes, take random blurry photos, and right now, order delivery.

“Totally.” His crow’s feet displayed on his mask as he puffed out his cheeks.

“Because last time you said that, you didn’t like what I had to pick.”

“That’s because the 5 ʼn 2 is so fucking overrated!” he suddenly started to complain. Your wings ruffled. “Jeez, I swear, every fuckin’ time I take a chick out and ask her what her favorite eatery is, basic bitches always go, ‘Oh, bREaD & fIsH, ceRTAinLy’ or ‘bReAD & FiSh’S a cLAsSIC’” He used his hand as a puppet to imitate their words before waving it. “Like, helloooo? Can’t you see the joint that’s literally on the other side of the street’s a hundred times superior? It’s cheaper, too, unlike Bread & Fish. Overpriced ass. You get me, right—?”

“Then you pick!” Adam jumped at your volume, and your eyes widened upon noticing yourself. You quickly gave back his phone as you turned your face away from him, and he slowly took it with a weird look.

“Shit, chill, (Name). The fuck’s up your ass?” He kept his gaze on you before turning to his phone.

While he was serious about his opinions of your bland tastes, he didn’t think it was that personal. Your preferences were the same as everyone else and that was boring. He was just being honest. And you usually didn’t take the things he said that seriously.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” you spoke up after a moment of silence and ran a hand through your hair. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“ʼs not a problem.” He was still a bit weirded out, but he was willing to shrug it off.

You insisted, however, “I mean it. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay…?” he muttered when he saw a notification pop up from Lute. Her message consisted of how some of the exterminators got into a quarrel during roll call and the ones involved got injured in the process. She said she was going to discipline them.

Adam did not want to know what she meant by that and was most likely not going to stop by their place today.

“Really. I’m not. Sorry. It’s just that yesterday’s been…”

“Uh-huh…” At this point, Adam was not listening to anything you were saying. But when he still heard the static noise that was your words, he groaned. “Look, sweetie, I really don’t give a fuckin’ shit about your fuckin’ apology, ʼkay? I don’t fuckin’ care. Now what do you want?”

You saw Adam’s confused yet concerned expression after he looked up from his phone and immediately noticed that you were starting to cry. You instantly turned your face away as you carefully wiped your eyes.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not crying because of you.” You didn’t know if that was true. You didn’t know if you were crying because of his words or were crying because of everything else.

That was the first time he ever used a sweet petname for you in a long time. He only ever used that to demean or mock other people.

Shit. Stop thinking—you were going to cry more. But even after carefully wiping your eyes away, new tears kept flowing. You couldn’t stop. This was humiliating. You wanted to disappear. You didn’t want anyone to witness you in this state. It was mortifying.

“Shit.” Adam’s voice came out panicky as he held his hands out towards you, but he hesitated. Hesitated in what, he didn’t even know.

He…didn’t think you could cry.

Adam didn’t know what to do; this emotional shit wasn’t his thing. He couldn’t ask you to leave, he knew that much, but he didn’t want to leave himself. This was his place. Why should he leave?

So, he did the only thing he could do in this situation.

You suddenly felt something warm envelop you.

You didn’t look up, but you knew it was Adam. You could feel the texture of his robe on your hands and the side of your face. You could feel his hands on your shoulder blade, but you couldn’t quite feel his arms on you.

You stopped wiping your eyes for a moment.

No one had ever hugged you before when you were sad.

No one had ever let you be sad.

Adam heard you sob.

Fucking great. He made it worse. What the fuck was he supposed to do then?

But when he went to unwrap his arms, he felt yours slip around his midsection, pulling him closer than before as he grunted from your firm hold.

So you wanted to be hugged? Alright. Whatever.

Adam slowly hugged you back after you muttered a ‘sorry’ and loosened your grip.

The next seconds were silent, so when he heard muffled words coming from you, he looked down. You also looked up moments later when he didn’t respond, realizing he must’ve not heard you.

Your gaze softened as you two held eye contact, and with teary eyes, you smiled. “Thank you, Adam.”

Something about his expression changed, but before you could stare any longer, you felt a hand behind your head push you back to his chest as the arm on your back held you tight.

“Yeah, whatever…”

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #kinopiowrites

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crxss01 · 10 months

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hii! can i request where e42 miles and reader

break up and the reader finds someone new, and miles gets jealous, and so on.

— Dark Paradise

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42! miles morales x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ miles breaks up with you to keep you safe from his prowler business. he expected that you would move on eventually, but that didn’t mean that he had to be okay with that.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, hurt/comfort, possessivenesses, threatening, miles is a lil toxic, cheating (not on reader and don’t do this to people), breaking up then getting back together, a little suggestive in the end.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ bonito: handsome/pretty boy, carajo: shit, (mi) princesa: (my) princess.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i love seeing miles following after the reader like a puppy, i hope you enjoy that as well!

"you can't do this to me!" you exclaimed. "to us!"

his face was stone cold and just like the first time you two met, you couldn't read his eyes at all so you didn't know if he really wanted this or if he was doing it for some other selfish reason.

where did it all went wrong? you two were happy together then suddenly he was distant and cold towards you, pushing you away little by little until you finally noticed and confronted him about it and there you were now. him admitting to having loss feelings for you and breaking your heart with two words 'break up'.

"listen, it was all good, i won't lie. but things change, feelings change and i don't want you anymore." miles shrugged.

"this is just so easy for you, isn't it?" you snarled at him, then pointed to the door of your bedroom. "get out." you had refused to shed even a single tear in front of him.

"i don't want to end things on bad terms, ma." miles put his hands up.

"should've thought about it before you said you 'didn't want me anymore' as if i'm some object." you snapped at him. "now, get out of my house."

you started pushing him towards the door of your bedroom and when you pushed him out, you slammed the door shut behind him, locking it in the process. you leaned back against it and slid down, your hands coming up to your face, tears furiously falling down like a waterfall from your eyes, and sobs coming out of your throat one after another.

you sighed at the memory, your emotions had been uncontrollable and you never wanted to go through that again. that hurt like nothing else had hurt you in this world and you hated miles for being the cause of it.

now marked two months of your break up and last week you decided to give relationships a try again, but not before making sure that this guy you were going out with wasn't a stone hearted dumbass criminal that would leave you as if you were simple trash.

"how about this one?" your boyfriend, lucas, asked.

"yeah." you nodded pretending to like the plushie he was choosing to take out of the machine for you, he was so nice and it left a pain in your chest that you didn't feel anything for him.

sure, you liked him but it was a platonic feeling. you tried hard the past few days to at least feel a little spark with him but it was all in vain.

"you don't like it, do you?" he gave a shy smile, scratching his ear. something you noticed that he did when he was nervous or embarrassed. "it's okay, choose one and i'll take it out."

you tried to give him a comforting smile, but it came out awkward. "i like that one." you pointed at the one you liked the most.

lucas nodded and put the amount of money needed in the machine and started guiding the control towards the plushie you chose.

"come on, bonito, you can do it!" you encouraged him, accidentally calling him by the pet name you used to call miles. even though it was an accident you made no attempt to correct it and instead dismissed the thought of miles (or at least tried to).

"carajo!" lucas exclaimed when the plushie fell back down after picking up with the metal grabber.

"move, man." lucas got pushed away from the machine. "let me show you how to do this properly."

"you can't be serious." you deadpanned at miles. "what are you doing here, miles?"

"it's an arcade, mami." miles said innocently. "anyone can come here."

you rolled your eyes, but he was right.

lucas frowned at miles, "if you wanted to use it, you could've just asked. no need to be fucking aggressive."

miles ignored him for a moment, putting money inside the machine, controlling the metal grabber thing and grabbing the exact plushie you had picked out and successfully pulling it out of the machine, bending down to take it out and giving it to you.

"here, princess." he said, but when you didn't take it he just grabbed your arm and put it around the plushie. "remember that you only have one bonito in your life." he told you, eyes going hard a little bit but they turned to complete stone when he looked at lucas. "and you, watch your tone."

"who the fuck do you think you are?" lucas asked, angrily.

"her one and only." miles shrugged and walked away.

his corny ass.

"don't listen to him," you told lucas and started making your way to the nearest trash can, pulling him along and throwing the plushie inside. "let's go somewhere else."

you and lucas had been dating for three weeks now and outdoor dates were impossible for both of you because miles kept showing up everywhere you two went, always finding a way to put some type of claim over you in front of lucas and you could tell that the boy was getting tired of miles since once his sweet soul even tried to talk things out without using violence but it ended with miles punching him and a fight breaking out between the two that miles, obviously, won.

now, you and lucas were hanging outside school waiting for your group of friends to come out so you could all go to the park together.

"we could skate." you suggested when lucas asked for ideas of what to do for your next date.

"that sounds dangerous."

miles would've agreed about skating together, you and him enjoyed doing that a lot. he taught you how to do it and it bought back fond memories.

"what about playing board games?"

"that's boring to do with a girlfriend."

miles enjoyed beating you every single time so he would have agreed to play that with you in a heartbeat.

"oh! how about painting?"

"i don't know how to paint."

miles was an artist, he did graffiti and sketched (sometimes). he had taught you how to draw many things and would've said yes to that idea just to feel the intimacy of teaching you more stuff.

"then come up with something on your own." you rolled your eyes.

"come on, sweetheart." lucas laughed. "are you really going to get mad at me for that?"

"of course, she will." miles suddenly appeared again. "you're boring as fuck, man. which is why she would never be yours."

"miles, don't start." you said, already tired of his ass. but deep inside you even if you didn't want to acknowledge it, you always looked forward to the moment that he would show up.

"hola, princesa." miles smirked, looking at you up and down. "you look good."

he said that even though you were wearing the uniform but it made you feel warm inside.

"can you leave my girlfriend alone?"

"can you stop calling her yours?" miles raised an eyebrow. "she is not yours and would never be. she already belongs to me."

"i belong to none of you, i'm my own person." you said, why the fuck were they talking like you weren't there? like you were some object?

miles chuckled, a deep one that had his head throwing back and he looked at you, a dark glint in his eyes. "you and i both know that is not true." then he leaned in to you, but lucas pushed him away. "see you later, princesa. mi princesa." he added the last bit with a smirk.

"and you're lucky i'm in a hurry, or i would've knocked your ass down." he told lucas then winked your way before finally leaving.

as you laid on your bed, you couldn't help but think about everything that has happened this past few weeks that had to do with miles.

at first after your break up he ignored you completely and it wasn't like you wanted to talk to him, but if he wanted to be on good terms he could have at least spoken to you and apologized yet he didn't.

then the moment you started dating again, he suddenly reappears in your life. acting as if you were an object that he had absolute possession of, and it made you so mad that the only way to get his attention was to be with someone else.

"you dumb bitch." you cursed, slapping your hand against your face. "this whole time..."

this whole time you were just trying to get miles' attention or trying to replace him with lucas, you weren't trying to 'give relationships a try again' it was all bullshit.

you have been comparing every single thing that lucas did to miles, every single decision that lucas had made would make you think of what miles would do in his place. it was like you were wishing that lucas would turn into miles this entire time.

"i have to see him..." you whispered. "now."

you stood up, not even bothering to change out of your pijamas and ran out of your house and into the dangerous night. miles lived two blocks away and you hoped that he wasn't doing some prowler business since it was at this time in which he would normally work.

when you got there, you grabbed the key hiding in the plant pot and opened the door. you left all regrets behind you and stepped in, there was no movement in the kitchen area and the living room so ms. morales was probably doing a night shift.

"miles?" you called out, then made your way to his room. "miles." you stood outside the door of his room and sighed before knocking.

“hey, princesa.”

you jumped and turned around. miles was standing right behind you, head cocked to the side looking at you up and down.

“gosh, you scared me.” you put a hand on your chest.

“you’re the one in my house.” miles said.

you realized that he was wearing his prowler suit so he must have just came back from some mission.

“i want you to tell me what do you want with me?” you went straight to the point.

“i want everything with you. get marry, have kids, die together and all of that corny ass shit.” miles sighed.

“then why did you break up with me?” you asked, hurt clear in your voice.

“i was threaten by someone, this person was way too dangerous and they found out about you and i just couldn’t let you be hurt, i mean you’re everything to me.” miles confessed. “but now, they aren’t a problem anymore. it took time but my uncle and i took care of it.”

“so this person only happened to know about me? what about your mom?” you raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“thankfully, they didn’t know about my mom but the only reason they found out about you was because i made the mistake of going to your house right after a mission.” he explained.

you nodded, not knowing if you should believe him but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered anymore because you wanted miles and his name and face was the only thing in your mind.

“i want you to end things with that little hispanic boy.” miles said after a while of silence.

“you’re hispanic too.” you said with a little smirk.

“i know, that’s why you got with him.” miles grabbed your waist and pulled you in for a kiss which you reciprocated.

your arms came around his neck while one of his came around your waist and the other hand grabbed a handful of your ass making you let out a gasp into the kiss. “mine.” he murmured. “all mine.”

“all yours.” you agreed before connecting your lips with his again.

his lips tasted sweet and you weren’t surprised because they always had that taste on them, making you want more of it and you couldn’t get enough. you needed him to keep kissing you all night long, in the morning, the afternoon and during the night again. you wanted his kisses to last forever.

“who’s the only bonito in your life, princesa?” he asked as he kissed down your neck, biting softly here and there.

you didn’t answer, too lost in the feeling of his lips and the pleasure that they were bringing you which caused miles to let go of your ass so that he could wrap his hand around the back of your neck and pull your face to look at him.

“answer me.” it sounded like an order and knowing miles you had no doubt it was.

“you are.” you told him, a little breathless. “i love you, bonito.”

“and i love you, mi princesa.” miles smiled and opened the door to his room, pulling you inside.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

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universalitgirlsblog2 · 1 month

Text

💗🍰BECOMING SELFISH IS THE BEST THING I DID💗🍰

This post is my notes of thewizardliz video of the same topic as this post . I always tend to lose the notes I make 😑, so I thought that I should make a post on this ( lol )

💗STOP ARGUING WITH PEOPLE WHO AREN'T WILLING TO LISTEN

If the boundaries were crossed, the conversation is over . They aren't worth your time or energy.

🍰START PRIORITIZING YOUR OWN NEEDS & WANTS

" Whatever I want , goes first ". Fill your own cup first, Are you whole ? Are you okay ?

💗STOP BEING ALWAYS AVAILABLE & TRYING TO SAVE EVERYONE

You cannot save everyone. To be honest , you cannot same anyone . If a person does not want to change , if a person doesn't want to be saved,you will not save anyone & just end up losing your energy.

🍰SOMETIMES YOU HELPING IS ACTUALLY SABOTAGING GOD'S PLAN

People get certain problems / situations in their life because God gives them , it's for them to go through. So they can become wiser & fulfill their life purpose. If someone is stepping in & trying to be their savior , they are sabotaging God's plan & blocking their own blessings.

💗START BEING OKAY WITH PEOPLE MISUNDERSTANDING YOU

They don't have to understand you. It's very reasonable they don't understand you , people have come from different countries , culture, environment. They don't have the same mindset or heart as you. You cannot make them understand you because they aren't you. If you constantly go through life thinking everybody has the same heart as you , you will be hurt . People are different. Let them be.

🍰REALISE THAT YOU CAN ONLY CHANGE YOURSELF

Humans love comfort. In order to change, it requires alot of courage , strength & discomfort. If you are constantly putting your energy trying to change people , to become their best version. You are wasting your energy that you can use to become your best version. Lead by example .

💗STOP NEEDING PEOPLE TO VALIDATE YOUR SELF WORTH

You don't need anyone to tell you how good , smart or beautiful you are , if you already see those qualities in yourself. If you only feel that you are a good person when someone else tells you that you are a good person, if you need validation from other people , then you are just a slave of other people because their opinion can change your reality.When you are the one who always creates their own reality. You have to be strong in your own self , tell yourself how amazing you are.

🍰TALK TO YOURSELF , TAKE YOURSELF ON A DATE , HUG YOURSELF , COMPLIMENT YOURSELF

Say in the mirror how amazing you are to yourself.

💗LESS CHASING MORE ATTRACTING

Tune in with your feminine energy . Be relaxed, just do what is good for you & your body. Become open to receiving to your blessings & manifestations. If you aren't desperately chasing after things , then you are really whole.

🍰ONLY ADDING GREAT PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE

Allow people who add value in your life. Do they make you happy ? Is it a both way thing ?.

💗STOP SEEKING PEOPLE'S PERMISSION TO DO WHAT YOU WANT.

You don't need anyone's permission to do what is good for yourself. You know yourself well enough. " I know I can do it & I will do it " . Others opinions should be irrelevant to you , how cocky people can be to think that they know you better than you know yourself. They haven't gone through anything you have gone through. They haven't lived your life so who are they to decide what is good for you ? " Mmmm..none of your buisness ,goodbye "

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reiding-writing · 26 days

Note

Hiiii, first of all i wanna say congratsss!! You’re an amazing writer and i LOVE your stuff! Secondly, i would like to mention that i’ve never actually made a request before so bear with me 😬 Okay okay, so i was wondering if you could write cold!reader with angsty prompt 28. "I can't believe I didn't see that coming." and general prompt 23. “I thought I’d lost you.” Maybe spencer gets hurt and reader shows emotion (maybe some tears) and the team is all like ???

(feel free to ignore this btw 💗💗)

CLOSE CALL [CLIMACTERIC]

28. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, hostage situation, character death, reader is her typical rash self, happy ending

spencer reid x cold!reader || hurt/comfort || 2.8k ||

a/n: thank you <3 i’m honoured to be the conduit you chose for your first request and i hope this is what you envisioned 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

event masterlist!!

Spencer’s hands shake so much as he pulls off his bulletproof vest you’re not sure how he has enough articulation in his fingers to do so in the first place.

“Reid, you’re not ready to do this.” Your words aren’t as harsh as they are truthful, but it cuts him down the same anyhow. “Let me or Hotch do it.”

“No, I need to do this myself,” Spencer shakes his head determinedly, and if he wasn’t so focused on the sheer amount of adrenaline running through his veins right no he’d probably be proud of himself for standing up to you and not just following your word as law, but alas, the only thing he could feel right now is absolute dread. “He won’t listen to you.”

Why was it always him that got personally involved with the unsubs? It was like they were a heat-seeking missile locked only onto his location.

Literally locked onto his location in this case. He’d seen him —Daniel as he called himself— on the train home from work, in the coffee shop he frequented, the local library, and he swears he also saw him parked in his apartment building’s parking lot.

It was like he was silently screaming at Spencer to notice him, and when he finally got to speak to the man, he asked for help. He was afraid. He was afraid of himself because he was having horribly intrusive thoughts that made him want to do terrible things and he viewed Spencer as his only scapegoat. Pros and cons of being all over the news for his job he supposes.

Spencer really did try to help him, but every suggestion he made was shut down like they weren’t good enough, like Daniel wanted Spencer to physically go into his brain and remove all of the faulty parts that were making him feel insane.

Spencer’s help just wasn’t good enough, and it lead to multiple people dying as a result.

And now Daniel was holding a woman hostage in her own house.

How was he supposed to not feel solely responsible for that?

Spencer had to be the one to speak to him. Not you or Hotch and your negotiation training, him and his personal connection to all the deaths that had happened because he wasn’t able to help someone that was begging him to save them from their own mind.

He practically shoves his revolver into your hand as he commits to going inside, taking a second to regulate his breathing before emerging from behind the SUVs to approach the closed front door, leaving you all in wait, guns raised at every window in the event that something goes wrong.

Something was bound to go wrong.

“Reid the minute that something feels off you leave, understand?” It technically wasn’t your call to make, but as you spoke into the small radio on your chest you weren’t really thinking about that. It’s not like Hotch would disagree with you anyway.

There’s a few seconds of silence over the radio, even though you know he heard you from the slight jolt in his spine as he reached the front door of the house. “Reid. Tell me that you understand that.”

“Copy,”

You had half the mind to drag him back into the car from that response alone. He clearly wasn’t listening to you, not properly anyway, and having such an emotional involvement in something like this was going to get him killed if he treated it the wrong way.

“Be careful,” Hotch was less antagonistic in his warning, but it held the same message.

Spencer threw an arbitrary thumbs up above his head before knocking on the door of the house and entering slowly with both his arms raised.

Then it was a waiting game. A stalemate where you had to sit with your guns trained and just wait for any sign of change. It was like absolute torture.

It was virtual silence and tumble weeds for the best of five minutes, and then there was a loud gunshot sound that echoed from inside the walls of the house, and all of that waiting felt for naught as you pressed the button on your radio with a steady stream of trepidation raising in your throat that he might not answer you. “Reid? Reid come in.”

You wait for something to come from the other side of the radio, even if it’s just the crackle of static from him pressing the button without actually speaking into it. But all you get is silence, and it makes that sinking feeling grow until you literally feel like you’re about to throw up your stomach.

You don’t think twice about running towards the front door of the house after you don’t get an answer, ignoring the calls of Hotch for you to back down and let SWAT take care of it so he didn’t possibly lose two agents instead of just one.

He knew you weren’t going to listen to him either way.

You open the door with your pistol raised at your eyes, the weight of Spencer’s revolver tucked into the waistband of your jeans acting both as an instrument to ground you and as a torturous reminder that the gunshot you heard couldn’t have possibly been from him.

It had to have come from Daniel.

Logically you should’ve swept the ground floor first before rushing straight into the dining room where you knew the three had been last, in case Daniel had left the room and approached you from behind.

You don’t of course, and you kick open the barricaded dining room door with enough force to splinter the door frame holding the hinge pin in place, the door hitting the wall with a thud.

The sight you’re met with is not what you expected to find.

“Reid—” You drop your gun to your side the second your eyes land on the back of his head, his back to you and his eyes locked on Daniel, lying on his back on the dining room floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head, his blood slowly pooling on the linoleum.

The woman he had hostage was alive too, thank god, practically trying to melt into the corner as she cried into her hands, obviously still in shock over what happened.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Spencer’s words didn’t feel like they were coming from himself as he spoke, his voice feeling detached from his consciousness as his mind focused on fully comprehending the situation.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are—” Your body forces a sharp breath to leave your mouth as it cools don from the adrenaline rushing through your system, and you pull Spencer backwards by his arm to stop the blood from Daniel’s body reaching his shoes. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I just- I don’t know,” Spencer gives up on trying to find an explanation for his actions before even really thinking about it. He knows there’s no use, because he really wasn’t thinking, it was just acting on instinct.

“You see this Reid?” You give the radio on his chest a pull with your hand, causing him to stumble forward towards you in the process. “It’s a radio, use it.” There’s no denying the insurmountable rage in your tone as you berate Spencer for his carelessness, something that he most definitely deserves as he stands there nodding at you like an idiot.

You let go of his radio with a small push, sending him stumbling backwards this time, and you take a second to compose yourself before pressing on your own radio to communicate with the rest of the team. “I’ve got Reid and the hostage alive. The unsub shot himself.”

“Copy that, we’re coming in.”

Hotch’s voice may as well be a leaf in the wind as Spencer puts his full focus into how absolutely furious you seem with him.

“I’m sorry—”

”Sorry isn’t good enough.” You ignore the arrival of your teammates in the house, how they carefully guide the hostage outside to get her looked over by the ambulance waiting outside and how they secure the scene for the forensics team to deal with. “You cannot throw your life away by running head first into a dangerous situation knowing you can’t defend yourself.”

“I thought—”

“What? That it’d be fine? That you all of a sudden had all the training you needed to talk down an armed serial killer with serious delusions that could leave you as his next victim?” Maybe you we’re being a bit too harsh on him, but it was important he understood exactly what could’ve gone wrong. “You might be a genius Reid, but you are the dumbest goddamn person I have ever met.”

Spencer presses his lips together into a line at your declaration, lowering his head until his gaze is firmly planted on the floor.

“You are not an expendable resource, you can’t be replaced, and you need to understand that before you throw yourself into a possible line of fire do you understand me?” You ignore the lingering gaze of Hotch as you continue your verbal assault on Spencer, and you know you’ll probably get an earful yourself for being so hard on him, but he gave you a real scare, and you were expressing that to him in the way that suited you most.

“Yes I understand, I’m sorry…” The slight waver of his voice as he responds to you is enough to knock your anger down a peg, and you drag your hand down your face with a sigh.

“We were scared for you Reid, you could’ve died.”

“I know…”

You give another soft sigh at the voice he barely keeps his voice controlled as he whispers out his answer to you, on the verge of tears from your thorough verbal assault.

“Don’t do it again. I thought I’d lost you.” You lift up one of your hands to put it on his shoulder, although it lands closer to the curve of his neck, prompting his face upwards to meet your eyes once more. “And as much as you can be idiotic, the team needs you alive.”

He gives you a soft hum as an answer this time, not trusting his voice to not crack if he were to speak properly.

He tries not to focus on the warmth of your hand on his neck, nor on the fact that you’d said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ when talking about being concerned for his safety under fear of only worsening his attempts at keeping himself composed.

Your gaze softens marginally as you spot the glassiness of his eyes, and for a second he swears that the protective shield you cover yourself with disappears to show the amount of concern you truly felt for him.

“I’m okay… I promise,” He nods softly at you with rounded eyes. He’s mildly flattered by how much you care, but he doesn’t want you to show it as concern, positive emotions suited you much better he thinks.

“You’re lucky, and it won’t last forever,” You use you hand against his shoulder to turn him around, pushing him gently towards the front door and using the opportunity of him not facing you to swallow the start of your own tears, clearing your throat into your elbow as he takes your lead in leaving the house.

“Reid,” Hotch is on top of the two of you before you even walk out the door. “Go and meet Morgan by the ambulance, I want you checked over,”

“But—“

“Go,” Hotch’s inherent ability to be authoritative trumps Spencer’s resistance immediately, and Spencer begrudgingly leaves your side with a small “yes sir,” to go and be checked out by one of the EMTs.

You attempt to follow him at first, but you’re promptly stopped by Hotch raising his hand in your direction, and then gesturing you over to him.

“Berating somebody for running into a dangerous situation head first with how you responded is very—“

“Hypocritical, I know,” You interrupt the end of Hotch’s sentence by finishing it yourself. “But if he hadn’t gotten into that situation in the first place then I wouldn’t have had to respond the way I did,”

“I understand you care about Reid,” Hotch crosses his arms over his chest, and although there is zero malice in his expression or his tone, you can still tell that he’s not exactly happy with you right now. “But you also need to be more careful with how you handle yourself,”

You narrow your gaze at him a little, and he mirrors it right back at you. “You can’t worry about keeping Reid alive if you’re not alive yourself, you need to be more careful, understand?”

“Yes sir,” The words are almost begrudging as they leave your mouth, but you know he’s right really. Running in after Spencer without a second thought and then berating him for being reckless was hypocritical, and you probably deserved to be reprimanded for it.

—

“You really gave her a scare you know,” Morgan speaks, prompted by Spencer’s very obvious lingering glances in your direction as you speak with Hotch.

“I know,” Spencer sighs dejectedly as he finally removes his eyes from you to allow the paramedic in front of him to check his pupillary response. “She made sure of that,”

“She cares about you Reid,” Morgan gives him a squeeze on his shoulder. “You’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack if you keep this up,”

“That’s quite dramatic, the chances of somebody going into cardiac arrest from shock is extremely low, only 5% of all cases, and technically it would actually be cardiogenic shock, which isn’t a heart attack,”

“It’s a figure of speech Reid,” Morgan gives him a small playful shove after the paramedic has finished his evaluation, rolling his eyes. “Point is, you scared her, and I don’t know whether to be amazed or concerned at the fact that’s even possible,”

“She’s just as likely to be afraid as anyone else,” Spencer bites his cheek at Morgan’s declaration, unsure whether he should feel guilty or flustered at just how much you seemed to care about him, from the words of the rest of the team anyway.

“I mean yeah we were all worried about you, but she ran head first into the house with a potentially manic shooter inside, by herself, after Hotch told her to wait for backup,” Morgan gives Spencer a light nudge with his elbow, raising his eyebrows with an amused expression. “You know what I call that? Favouritism,”

Spencer lets out a small airy laugh, shaking his head as he stands from the edge of the ambulance.

“Face it pretty boy, you’re stuck with her for life, even if it means she follows you into an early grave,” The teasing in Morgan’s voice is unmistakeable, but his words ring truth either way. “Let’s just make sure you don’t end up in an early grave alright?”

“Yeah—” Spencer lets out another small breath through his mouth as Morgan pats his hand between his shoulder blades, gesturing for Spencer to follow him towards the rest of the team with a nod of his head.

Spencer doesn’t want to cut himself short just yet, especially if that means you’ll serve yourself the same fate. Although the idea of having you accompany him, even if it did mean in whatever lies after death, didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

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waldau · 17 days

Note

I cant insert a photo here on your ask but it goes something like

"Do whatever you want!!!" X said out of anger then character Y kissed him gently. "You said do whatever i want, right?"

whatever — choi seungcheol | 1,821 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this prompt was really cute!!!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out? and in need of a hug?

you love the sounds that make the house you share with seungcheol your home.

you love hearing the door creak when you open it at that specific angle. you love the sound of the clock ticking in the living room that seungcheol himself picked out. you love the sound of him walking on the wooden floor of your house, the sound of his glass when it clinks against the marble of the kitchen island, the birds chirping in the evening when you take out time to just relax against him and watch the sun set, and the sound of his quiet snores when he insists he wants to watch you watch your favourite shows, only to end up falling asleep.

there’s none of that here, in this moment.

you take off your shoes and kick them to the side, not bothering to open the cabinet to put them inside because the doors make a particularly loud sound when they snap shut, and you don’t want to risk waking seungcheol up again.

it’s been an odd couple of weeks, with you staying out late because of more work and seungcheol staying in because his workload has been relatively less for the beginning of the new year. him being at home would’ve made you happy if you didn’t have to apologize for cancelling and rescheduling dates, or for being left with energy enough only for a bath and a quick dinner, movie plus cuddling sessions replaced by cuddling in your sleep. if you were lucky to get back home in time, that is.

you stop and listen for a few moments. there’s no sound to be heard. the door to your bedroom is shut, which means that seungcheol must have already gone to sleep.

a little pang of hurt stabs your heart. it’s not like you want him to keep late hours for you, but you’re not exactly doing well in these trying times, and you’d really love to have his voice wash out your worries.

a resounding bang from the kitchen startles you. before you can even think of the worst possible scenario that could’ve just transpired, seungcheol walks out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand and some flour on his hair and his rolled up sleeves. the literal definition of a hot mess.

“hey, baby,” he says, eyes widening when he sees you. “i was expecting you to be back in an hour or two.”

so it’s that bad, huh? it’s become normal for him to expect you to come back even later? you focus on the stains on his clothes instead, and the rolling pin that seems so out of place in his hand. “what exactly are you doing?”

“nothing! well, nothing much. yet. maybe you should stay out of here for a while.”

one thing about seungcheol is that he never keeps secrets. he can’t tell you a white lie to save his life, much less a black lie. “cheol,” you say, frowning, “both of us know you don’t even cook. are you baking? and why’s there flour in your hair?”

“sieving accident,” he mumbles, so quiet that you almost don’t catch it.

“should i be afraid?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. you feel like your tears are a short distance away, and you really, really hope he’s done nothing more. something tells you that isn’t it, however.

“not really!” says seungcheol, but you can read him like glass at this point. the little nervous laugh and the way his nose twitches when he tries spinning facts makes you dread what you’re going to find inside. “maybe you should have a nice bath before you sleep? did you have dinner yet?”

you try to move past him into the kitchen but he blocks the entrance with his broad frame. the one time this isn’t sexy.

“cheol, let me in.”

“not until you tell me the password.”

“there’s a password now? what, something like choi seungcheol is the best?”

he giggles. “close.”

you sigh. “cheol, i’m really not in the mood to play games right now. please tell me what’s going on in there?”

he tries pulling that face, the one with the puppy eyes, where he looks at you so pleadingly that you’re generally ready to fold and do whatever he asks of you, but right now it just doesn’t work on you. the more evasive he is, the more worried you get. before he can react, you duck under his outstretched arms and into the kitchen.

rather, into the mess he’s made of the kitchen.

you’ve heard stories about junhui trying to bake. they sounded absolutely hilarious, and you’ve always wondered how he could mess up so bad that he managed to land waffle batter on the ceiling. especially when he didn’t even own a ladder to try and clean it.

it’s not funny when it’s your house that has some batter on the walls. at least it’s not the ceiling, you think, a bit hysterical, until you see flour on the…everywhere. it’s just everywhere. the counter, near the sink, in front of the oven like it’s a modern day trail of breadcrumbs that hansel and gretel would’ve followed. there’s also baking supplies scattered all over, an extremely huge sheet of baking paper lining a tray that’s sitting next to a bunch of bowls.

it’s a mess, to say the least.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol says, gently turning you away from the sight of it. he winces when he sees your face. you don’t even know what your face looks like. all you know is that you’re tired, that you need a break, and that the last thing you would have liked to see today was your boyfriend’s face while he was peacefully asleep, and not…this.

you shake your head but no words come out.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol repeats, setting the rolling pin down on the counter. a comical little cloud of flour rises and settles. what kind of accident even was that? “i was just…trying to bake.”

“cheol, you didn’t even know why we use baking soda till last week!”

“hey!” he says, defensive. “i asked you so i could learn. and i know this isn’t great, but—” his words dry up when he notices where your gaze lies — on the batch of cookies that are burned beyond belief.

you can’t believe your eyes, either. you’re not the biggest baker in the world, but you’ve never burned anything you’ve baked. especially not in your first attempt. maybe you’d have given up the courage to bake again if that had happened, but seungcheol clearly isn’t that bothered by it.

you don’t know if it’s because of how pitiful they look, or how long your day has been, but you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“you never even do this,” you whisper, only focusing on his face and not the mess around you. “why did you think you had to do this today?”

“am i not allowed to try things if i want to?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“it’s not that, cheol,” you say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “i’d ask you for some help before trying something i’ve never done before. you never, ever do this. only when i ask you to help me. why today?”

“because i wanted to,” he says, almost flippant. “i’ll clean it up before you know it.”

but it’s not about the mess. it’s not about the burnt cookies. it’s not about the way he tried to block you from seeing the state of the kitchen. it’s the finality in his tone. it’s the fact that it’s not a big deal to him because he hasn’t had the day you’ve had.

seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees your lips tremble. “are you seriously mad at me? for baking?”

“do whatever you want,” you hiss, tired and angry, feeling a single tear slide down your cheek. “i shouldn’t have looked inside.” you turn to walk away before it becomes a full fledged cascade of tears, but you don’t go far because of the hand holding on to your wrist.

“stop,” he says, holding you strong enough that it becomes futile to try and escape.

“let me go, seungcheol,” you say, avoiding his face.

“oh, no,” he breathes out, and the next thing you know is that your face is cradled in his hands and there’s a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. and your nose. and your lips. and it keeps repeating till you push him away, your face in his hands. you can feel the ugly emotions inside you ebbing away slowly, reducing to small embers that prickle the slightest bit.

“what are you doing?” you ask weakly.

“you said do whatever i want, right?” he asks, a smile on his face.

that gets you to break, for some reason. you would’ve forgiven him even if he’d gotten batter on the ceiling, because this — the sight of seungcheol with flour in his otherwise perfect hair, wearing an old shirt and beaming at you even though you’ve snapped at him — kills even those small embers.

you press your face to his chest and let the tears out silently.

seungcheol rubs your back. “hey,” he says softly. “let it out, okay? and i’m sorry about the mess. i meant it when i said i’ll clean—”

“it’s not that,” you whisper. “just…hold me?”

seungcheol complies, and you find yourself swaying in his hold in the silence of your house.

“want to talk to me about it?” he offers when you pull away, feeling slightly better. “i’m—”

“stop apologizing to me, cheol,” you say, laughing a little wetly. “it’s not the kitchen. i’ve just…i’ve been missing you like crazy and i miss just being with you without doing anything. i hate coming home late and seeing you asleep by yourself in our bed. i want…i want things to go back to the way they were.”

“so, a bad week?”

“more than one.”

“but you have me here at the end of every single day, right?” seungcheol says, pushing up the corners of your lips to make you smile. you do smile, but it’s because of the cute grin he has on his face. “we’ll get through it before you know it.”

you sigh. “it sounds good when you say it like that.”

“because i mean it. also, one more thing.”

“yeah?”

“please don’t ever call me by my whole name again.”

“only if you mess up the kitchen that bad again.”

“hey!”

“also, why were you baking in the first place?”

“because i wanted to cheer you up,” he says, sheepish, and you want to do nothing more than hold his face and kiss him silly.

“you’re an idiot, baby,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “but you’re my idiot. and i love you.”

seungcheol’s blushing face is quite possibly enough to get you through tomorrow.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

#alternative title: everything everywhere flour at once #scoups #scoups fluff #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #fluff #coups #waldau writes #req

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lizzieisright · 1 month

Note

I’m so not normal about how you write alpha!abby I need more😩

Palestine: what can you do

Thank you for your req, I've missed writing alpha!abby it was so fun!(although this one is sappy)

Fri(end)s

alpha!abby x omega!reader

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, hurt/comfort, "alphas and omegas can be friends!!" delusion, they really stretch the definition of friendship. No full smut but they get horny.

Inspired by "Friends" by V.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

People say there's no such thing as a friendship between an alpha and an omega. You disagree.

People just need to embrace the inherent lust that comes with being friends with your opposite and you can be great friends. Instead of fearing to make everything awkward when you both smell your attraction, you should acknowledge it and laugh about it. Be each other's ego boosters. It's not that hard.

For example, you and Abby - you've been friends for years. It did start with Abby hitting on you, but she backed off immediately when you explained that you're not interested. Anyway, Abby stayed and asked to be your friend, and you agreed - Abby was cool and smart. It later became a running joke between the two of you where Abby'd jokingly hit on you just to get on your nerves or make you smile.

That's pretty much how you overcame the awkward barrier: you started being honest with each other about everything. You formed a bond so intimate between the two of you that people often mistook you for a couple. You didn't mind. It wouldn't happen anyway, since Abby was a player.

You had no idea how many omegas Abby's fucked in her lifetime, but you rarely saw the same omega twice. Abby kinda had a reputation around campus. She was aware of it, but what could she do? It wasn’t her fault her dick was good. And listen, Abby wasn’t an asshole, no one could catch her disrespecting omegas or talking who and how and when she fucked. People just knew. Well, it was hard not to know when her partners reeked of her after, but the point stood - Abby was a lady, not a prick when it came to privacy.

She fucked omegas that no one would believe to even have such dirty thoughts/time to fuck around/ability to feel sexual attraction or whatever reason insecure incel alphas kept telling themselves - and Abby always stayed discrete if omegas asked her too. Because that was how you got pussy, you fucking morons, not by insulting and being entitled.

So Abby didn’t care that she had a reputation - she only cared if her partners felt safe and enjoyed themselves, and as long as it stayed this way, Abby was happy.

And you knew all of this, because you were her best friend. She told you all of it during one night when you were drinking wine and you asked her about how she felt about her reputation.

Then Abby asked about your deal, and you honestly told her that you didn't know: you loved the touch and flirting but you felt like you didn't have space for relationships. That you haven't met anyone yet who'd make you want to make an effort - of course Abby joked about her being the one and you laughed.

“Well, if I ever need help, I'll come to you.” You winked and Abby laughed as well.

It was easy between the two of you to what some would say, an alarming point where the boundaries of friendship became blurry.

It wasn't a rare occurrence when you'd be at a party, pleasantly drunk, and then after what felt like an hour of dancing, you'd find Abby, sitting somewhere and sipping her whiskey, looking unapologetically hot in her muscle tee and jeans, and you'd get onto her lap, hugging her neck while she'd support your weight by grabbing your thigh. Her scent would get stronger and you'd smile into her shoulder, teasing her. Sometimes, of course, you'd find Abby with another omega already, her hands exploring and grabbing her partner, and you'd grin and go do something else. You always expect yourself to be upset, but strangely, you never are - Abby is your friend and you're happy she is getting some.

Tonight is a little different. You're sleepy and horny and overall, want to feel someone's warmth and touch. So you find Abby and straddle her. She doesn't even lift a brow, just holds you by your waist and keeps you safe. Abby smells your arousal and chuckles, but you stick your tongue out.

“I fucking hate being an omega.” You say and start playing with Abby's hair while she is caressing your back. It's soft and cosy despite you being all horny. It's not flirty, it's not subtle: you two just love being close, and Abby radiates her presence, making everyone look away in fear of challenging her. Abby locks her arms behind your back and you arch into her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna fuck so bad.”

Abby laughs and looks at you with her red eyes: she can't control it when she is drunk and has you on her lap. Abby smells your scent and smirks, her canines growing longer, her presence getting stronger, scaring other alphas away.

“Well, you know I'm always available for you.” You smack her on her shoulder and Abby laughs.

“Don't fucking tease me, bitch.”

“We can make out if it'd make you feel better.” Abby shrugs. You think for a second.

“Yeah. Let's make out. I bet you're a good kisser.”

“Five stars reviews, baby.”

You laugh, but Abby is already cupping your cheek and guiding you down to her level so she can kiss you. You go pliant when her warm lips touch yours: Abby is a good kisser. She is slow and gentle, but you feel the power and control behind her movements. She is holding you with one arm on your waist while she is grabbing your neck with the other one, her thumb stroking your jaw.

It doesn't feel like you two are toeing on some kind of line you're not allowed to cross: it feels natural and normal, like you've done it a million times before. Maybe you feel this way because Abby is confident and knows what she is doing, but she also doesn't push you further. You're just lazily making out, her warm tongue is on top of yours, exploring your mouth. It feels good.

You feel Abby getting harder under you and you grind against her crotch just to be a little shit, and she stops kissing you.

“And I'm a tease?”

“I love seeing you suffer.” You grin and Abby kisses you again, holding your hips down so you won't be able to grind anymore.

It's affirming, it's an ego boost: you love seeing Abby, hot and amazing alpha, being so weak around you. Abby loves knowing she is the only one who you allow to touch you - loves smelling how horny she can get you. So you keep making out and talking for the rest of the night, existing in your own little bubble. It’s beautiful.

After, Abby takes you home and you cuddle in her bed before you fall asleep, Abby's strong arm pulling you close, her hair making a cloud of her scent around you, keeping you safe and protected.

In the morning you wake up with her hard cock pressing into your thigh and you sigh - you want to sleep more, not being humped by a sleeping alpha. Abby shifts and grinds against you in her sleep, and your cunt throbs: you've never been so close to an alpha who is aroused. New experience, but this is Abby, and you want to fucking sleep.

You just shake her shoulder and she grunts, unhappy.

“Come on, Anderson, you have a morning wood.” You tell her, still sleepy. Abby shifts and turns on her back, taking you with her so your head is on her chest and if you could've been bothered and opened your eyes, you'd have seen the outline of her cock under the covers.

But you go back to sleep.

So this is how your friendship is: you're so close there's almost no boundaries between you. You're not afraid to smell horny around Abby and you feel good about yourself when you smell her being horny about you. You're never upset about her hookups and she doesn't growl at every alpha who looks your way. It's perfect.

The smell of love comes early into your friendship, and you both tease each other about it, “can't believe you love me it's so embarrassing”. Abby is your closest friend and you love her, and you two are proof of an alpha and an omega capable of being friends.

You're comfortable with each other to the point where you complain about your cycles and how fucking horny and unsatisfied you both are during this time: usually it's you who complains because Abby fucks through her ruts. You always tease her about smelling like her lucky omega, but Abby just smirks, still rut high. She looks deliciously dangerous after her rut and the smell of attraction grows stronger between the two of you. Usually Abby’d invite you for a bottle of wine after her rut ends and your drunk makeouts would get more passionate too, since Abby wouldn't hesitate to grab and knead your ass, making you grind on her cock. This is the only time when you let awkwardness fill the room: Abby doesn't control herself and you have to stop her before it goes too far.

(This is the only time when your heart flutters and your hopes rise. This is the only time that threatens to ruin your perfect friendship.

You know if you sleep with Abby, you'll never be friends again. You'll get territorial about her, and Abby doesn't need it - it's a question of incompatibility between the two of you.

So you stop her.)

But the universe doesn't like anything that is perfect - it's against her nature. The balance is in imbalance, and it tries to restore itself.

For the last few months your heats have been getting worse - you’re stressed, you can’t sleep and you feel like shit. Your mood swings start to get worse as well - if before you’d just get a little sad and then fall down into the horny fog of a heat, now your mood stays longer in the sad space. It’s tiring.

And this heat hits you very hard. You're not horny, you're in pain and sad and it's hard to maintain your mind. You wish you were just horny - you could just bury your nose in Abby's hoodie that she always lends you before your heat and you'd keep fucking yourself until the heat wave would pass.

You do bury your nose in Abby's hoodie, but it makes you cry even more. You feel so alone and so useless, like no one truly needs you and you'll never find your happiness, like you're bound to die alone. It's terrifying and makes you sob, and you can't be bothered to be horny because what's the point of it if you will be alone all your life?

Abby:

u ok?

You scramble to your phone and cry harder: Abby cares. Abby knows about your last struggles with your heats and she checks on you. You're not alone.

So you call her.

“Doll, I'm not doing phone sex-” Abby says jokingly, but then she hears you sob loudly. “What happened?” Abby's voice shakes. “Where are you? Fuck, talk to me-”

You take a big breath before Abby'd worry herself into an early grave.

“I'm fine. I'm home.” You sniff. “I just- It's so bad, Abby.”

“Are you hurt?” Abby is still worried.

“No. It's a mood swing.” You cry again, feeling so broken. “I feel so fucking alone. And you texted me and I- sorry, fuck.” You wipe your tears and hug her hoodie, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You feel ridiculous - you know it’s your hormones talking.

“Hey, I'm here.” Abby says, trying to soothe you, but you cry harder.

“What if I end up alone? What if I never meet my person? I spend all those fucking heats alone and it's so hard, and I can't think of doing it for the rest of my life all by myself.” You fall into another fit of sobs. Abby is silent for a moment.

“I'm coming over.” Abby says, dead serious, and you suddenly sober up.

“I'm in heat, Abby, you can't come over!” You sit on your bed, worried.

“I don't fucking care! You're hurting and you're alone, I can't let this happen.” You hear Abby rustle around. “Can you do something for me while I'm on my way?”

“I can try.” You say without any hope.

“Go drink some water and take a shower. And send me some pics so I know you did it, okay?”

“I'm so not sending nudes, Abby.” You chuckle without any bite. Abby huffs.

“Go drink your water.” Abby ends the call and you stare at your phone for a second.

You try to keep yourself together - you send Abby pictures of an empty glass and a hem of a towel when you're done, but it takes five minutes before your mood swings again. You shake and try to breathe through another spiral into hell, but it's so fucking hard. You get to the point where you start rocking back and forth like an anxious child, trying to self-soothe. You feel like you're in some kind of trance until you hear your doorbell.

You fly to the door before your dam would break: you open the door to Abby who's panting loudly - she probably ran up the stairs.

It takes a second for both of you to comprehend the situation before Abby throws everything on the floor and scoops you in her arms, and you break, sobbing into her chest and clinging to her shoulders. Abby's scent soothes you, protectiveness radiating from her while she holds you tight and kisses your head.

“I'm here.” She murmurs and you cling to her harder. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll keep you safe.”

It takes five minutes of breathing Abby's scent for your hormones to calm down. You sniff before moving away, but Abby doesn't let you, still holding you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You say honestly and Abby lets you go.

Her eyes are red and she tries not to breathe too much, and you feel ashamed - she got here to comfort you but you stink of heat. Of course Abby reacts to it, she can’t help it, and now she will be stuck between taking care of you and taking care of you. It’s unfair to her.

“I will take scent blockers.” You turn to go to the kitchen, but Abby stops you, gently holding your bicep.

“No. It's not the heat. It's the hurt.” You wince: you know it's hard for alphas to smell hurt on omegas. “And I have pretty good self-control.”

You chuckle and let Abby take her shoes off. She is in joggers and her favourite hoodie, looking cosy and comfortable. You want to cuddle her, and this is exactly what Abby does. She makes you drink another glass of water, feeds you a banana and takes you to your bed.

Abby stops when she sees her hoodie on your bed like she didn't expect you to actually use it. (Like she totally doesn't use your hoodie when she is too sad to find a rut buddy). But Abby doesn't say anything and just tugs you to the bed, enveloping you in her arms and her scent. It's warm and beautiful and you bury your nose in her skin.

You don't talk. Abby caresses you and kisses you head from time to time while you get upset again.

“I fucking hate being an omega.” You sniff. Abby presses you closer, her scent gets stronger, reacting to your distress. “There's something wrong with me, I swear.”

“You're perfect.” Abby murmurs and you blink your tears away.

“It's so hard, Abby. It's unbearable. With every heat I get more worn out and upset.” You cry quietly. “I will go on suppressants, I don't want to suffer like this anymore.”

Abby swallows. Suppressants are no joke, they ruin people’s health - that’s why they’re taken in emergencies. For everything else there’s scent blockers that don’t disturb cycles and don’t put people in danger.

“We will figure it out. We will get you back into normal horny heats and you’ll complain about it to me, I promise.”

It soothes you and you fall asleep, your scent slowly changing to your usual love scent, the one that Abby loves the most.

Abby knows that sometimes omegas go through their cycle with a lot more pain than normal, but seeing you, the fucking light of her life, suffer like this is torture. She’d honestly prefer to hold herself back from fucking you because you’re in heat, and not wipe your tears while you tell her how scared you’re of ending up alone.

Abby watches your calm face and caresses your cheek. If you only knew.

“I’ll always be here.” Abby murmurs, knowing you won’t hear her. “I’m yours.” She kisses your forehead.

When Abby moves away she is met with your wide eyes.

Her heart stops. You’re silent, lost for words, but something starts happening: your scent gets stronger and Abby can see golden sparks as your eyes start to change colour.

“Fuck.” You sigh. Your chest gets tighter and your cunt starts pulsing with need. “Ab-”

Abby kisses you roughly, pressing your head into the pillow and she shoves her tongue into your mouth, her hands gripping your waist, and now you’re lost in her scent and touch, arching and whimpering into her mouth. It feels amazing, you’re soaking your pants while you cling to Abby and relax under her, submitting to your alpha. You’ve never felt so good during your heat and you want more. You buck your hips into Abby and she grinds her cock on your pussy, making you shudder and moan. The kiss gets messier, there’s a lot of spit on your chins, but you don’t care - you want Abby closer, you want her in you, stretching you on her cock, knotting you.

“Abby-” You moan into her mouth and Abby growls. “Fuck me, please.”

Abby growls louder and licks your neck, her canines brushing against your skin and you whine, desperate. But then Abby stops kissing you neck, stops moving and her grip on you eases.

“Fuck.” Abby sighs into your neck. She smells how worked up and desperate you are, and she has to fight herself to not fuck you right now. “You’ll regret it. I’m not going to hurt you like this.” Abby rasps and your heart breaks.

You feel rejected and the smell of hurt fills Abby’s nose. She looks at you and her heart breaks from seeing you cry, knowing she did this. You can’t just reject an omega during their heat - it messes them up and then they won’t be able to keep you in their lives after, too hurt and ashamed.

“I want to, doll.” Abby tries to console you. “I really fucking want to, but I need you to be sober before we do anything. Look at me.” You obey and Abby kisses your tears. “I promise you, if you agree to this when this wave subsides, I’ll do whatever you need me to. For now we can keep kissing.”

It makes you feel better and you nod, tugging Abby down to kiss her again. You still are very horny and Abby has to pin your hips so you won’t grind against her, but you want to cum and you keep squirming under her while Abby tries to slow down the pace of your kiss. She is so gentle and careful, and eventually you melt and relax, the heat wave going away. It takes a solid twenty minutes of kissing and Abby holding you down before your head gets clearer. You break the kiss and sigh, relieved you’ve finally got a break. Abby looks like she has everything under control and she totally didn’t have to fight you and herself so you wouldn’t make a mistake. Her scent though tells you how much she has to restrain herself - it’s thick and heavy, aggressive, domineering. Abby didn’t lie when she said she wants to fuck you as much you want her to fuck you, and it makes you hormone-crazy heart feel better.

“You weren’t lying when you said you have amazing self-control.” You murmur and brush Abby’s hair out of her face. Abby chuckles.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I’m not all sex crazy right now, if this is what you are asking.” You keep caressing Abby’s hair. She blinks a few times, but the red doesn’t leave her eyes. “Thank you for handling this so well.”

Abby smiles and kisses your cheek. The question hangs in the air.

“I’m-” You take a deep breath full of Abby’s pheromones and it messes with your head, but you try to find the right words. You don’t want Abby to feel rejected too. “I’m not ready to spend my heat with a partner.” I won’t be able to let you go if we do this.

Abby does smell of regret, but she smiles at you.

“Of course. But call me if you get upset again. I don’t want you to be alone.”

You nod and walk Abby out, kissing her goodbye. You lock the door after her and sigh, knowing what is ahead.

You spend three days fucking yourself to a memory of Abby saying I’m yours.

Only after you’ve recovered and got back to yourself you’re hit with a realisation that Abby actually told you she is yours. You try to find a way to justify her words, to connect it with your friendship and how close you two are, but even your levels of almost no boundaries can’t create a good excuse.

You were not meant to hear her. She thought you were asleep. It was her secret.

So Abby didn’t say it to make you feel better or trick you heat-brain into calming down - her scent and touch already did it. There was no reason for her to say it unless she fucking meant it. You don’t know what to do. You never thought Abby’d be interested in something like an actual relationship with you.

Your perfect friendship was built on two opposing facts: Abby is a player, and you’re fine being alone until you meet your person. And now you’re not fine being alone because deep down you know she is your person, and Abby said she is yours without wanting you to know.

You feel like you’re going crazy. You’re terrified of any awkwardness that will inevitably come with this whole ordeal. You know you won’t be able to hide your uncomfortable, shaking discovery from Abby - she is your best friend after all, she will know something is up with you.

You manage to act normal for a week without Abby getting suspicious - you two are still flirty, but now when Abby touches you, you feel like she sets you on fire with how your cheeks burn. Now there’s a hidden meaning behind her touch - the one you were not supposed to know.

The song on the radio makes you break.

Abby is driving you two to the Korean restaurant she found and wanted to show you, and you two sit in comfortable silence - Abby is focused on the road and you stare out of the window, taking the view of this part of the city, when this song comes on the radio.

You're in my head / I had plans for the weekend / But wound up with you instead / Back here again / Got me deep in my feelings / When I should be in your bed

Your cheeks burn. It is a weekend and Abby spends time with you, taking you, her best friend, to the restaurant. Does she want to be in your bed?

You and I go back to like '09, it's like forever / And you were there my lonely nights, yeah / Keeping me together / So wouldn't it make sense if I was yours? / And you could call me your baby / But we say we're just, say we're just-

You breath hitches. This song is stripping you of any kind of pretence. Your smell changes and Abby looks at you for a second.

Friends, just for now / Yeah, but friends don't say words that / Make friends feel like more than just / Friends, just for now / Now, I'm over pretending / So let's put the "end" in friends

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just remembered something.” Abby hums and doesn’t ask you further.

Friends are not supposed to get too close / And feel emotions that / We're feeling now, now, now / We ain't slowing down, down, down / But once we cross the line / There's no denying you and / I can never turn around, 'round, 'round / Know we'll never be the same

You take a shaking breath when you think back to your heat, begging Abby to fuck you. Yes, you will never be the same. But you have a choice to make.

“This song is about us.” You chuckle nervously.

“Really? Sorry, I didn’t pay attention.” Abby laughs, but starts to pay attention now, while you wait for the traffic light to turn green.

Friends, just for now / Yeah, but friends don't say words that / Make friends feel like more than just / Friends, just for now / Now, I'm over pretending / So let's put the "end" in friends

Abby clears her throat. She doesn’t joke or flirt - she understands.

“Yeah. It is about us.”

Abby doesn’t say anything more, but her scent gets a little spicy - she is nervous as well. You also don’t say anything - she is driving, after all. Not the time for this conversation. It’s the first time in your friendship when there’s so much thick, nervous tension between you.

Abby parks the car and you just sit for a moment, feeling like you need to talk about it right now. Abby clears her throat again.

“So do you want to put the "end" in friends?” Abby asks quietly, not knowing why did you bring it up - do you want to stop being friends or do you want to be something more?

You chuckle, endeared by Abby’s nervousness - she is always confident and calm, you’ve never seen her like this.

“You told me you’re mine.” You start, fidgeting with your fingers. You’re scared to cross this line and change everything, but you want to. “It made me happy. And very fucking confused, because- You know what I mean.” You cringe - you’re not going to include Abby’s sex life in your confession. “Were you serious about it?”

Abby lost any filter right after she heard “it made me happy”, so she just bursts, spilling all her feelings for you.

“I’m in love with you. I wanna marry you and have a fucking picket fence and a dog and two and a half children with you.” Abby says while her scent becomes ten times stronger with love. “You’re the one for me.”

You blink your happy tears away and look at Abby’s face, full of love and devotion.

“Maybe we should start with a date?”

Abby smiles and takes your face into her hands, kissing you with so much love you can swim in it.

“A date sounds good.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #alpha!abby #player!abby who is whipped for the reader? my favourite fucking trope

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