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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

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HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 31

*Warning: Adult Content*

~ Monty's Tale ~

My whole life, I always felt a little out of place, like everybody else was dancing to the same tune, and I just couldn't get the rhythm or the steps right.

For example, coming out.

The first of my siblings to come out was Freya.

She couldn't hide it and even before she did her first Shift, it was pretty clear our parents had a daughter and not a sixth son.

Then Dane quietly announced, one night over dinner as our parents discussed Pack relations, that he'd prefer a male Mate, if he had a choice.

That was that and nobody remarked on it much.

Noah was a little different.

He never actually came out, in any formal sense. It was just obvious, from a young age, that he didn't see any hard lines when it came to gender and sexuality.

Neither was he much inclined towards any particular variety thereof.

By the time I woke up to my own inclinations, well into high school, it felt a bit late and awkward to bring up the fact that, on the few rare occasions when I found myself attracted to another person, that person was a man.

It pushed the bounds of believability, I thought , that out of eight kids, four of us would be different like that.

I knew my parents wouldn't be bothered but I worried what other people would think of them like maybe they'd done something wrong, raising us.

It was a misplaced fear and now I understand it's not so surprising, given the words and the room to describe themselves, more people probably fall somewhere along the spectrums of gender and sexuality than inhabit either extreme pole.

Anyway, I ended up hiding it, almost unconsciously.

In high school, I didn't want to be more different than I already was.

Dane was lucky, he grew slow and only shot up to his full height the summer he was seventeen.

I was always tall.

Always the tallest kid in class, taller than my big brother when I was twelve, taller than most adults by the time I was fourteen.

And once I hit puberty, I packed on muscle just by breathing, it seemed.

Soon, I was the biggest, tallest guy in just about any crowd.

You might think that made me popular, or cool but I'll tell you something, there's an upper limit on how tall you can get before it stops being a good thing.

Beyond that, you become a freak.

For me, in high school, anyway, that limit was six-foot-two and I passed it in my second year.

It didn't help that I was awkward and shy and no good at making friends.

I had my siblings, of course, Dane was two years ahead of me and the triplets a year behind but we didn't see each other much at school.

Besides them, there was just the basketball team.

I'd been roped in to trying out, of course and I got picked not because I was particularly good but on account of being tall.

It was only later Coach James realized being tall wasn't always a good thing, I got in my teammates' way more often than I blocked an opponent.

Coach kept me on the bench, most of the time but I didn't mind.

Being quiet and out of the way was where I was most comfortable.

Then, during a match one time, I was playing center and the other team had the ball.

I saw this kid line up a perfect shot and I could've blocked it easily but he had such a look of pure hope on his face that I let him take it.

Coach pulled me aside, afterwards and yelled at me for a long time.

Later, when I went home, I asked my dad what a 'pussy' was and why it was such a bad thing to be.

We had an interesting conversation, then and I came out of it enlightened on some points and still confused on others.

Dad had a conversation with Coach James, too.

I don't know what he said to him but I never got yelled at like that again.

Course, I got dropped from the team, too.

Math was the same.

I did alright on tests and homework but as soon as I got called to the board to solve a problem, I'd forget everything except how to count from one to ten and sometimes I'd write my 3's backwards by accident.

Before long, I had a reputation for being big as a boulder and dumb as one, too.

Pretty soon the teachers stopped calling on me altogether and it was almost worse to be skipped over than to be subjected to the same torture as everyone else.

Funny thing is, when people don't expect much of you, it's easy not to expect much of yourself.

I got okay grades good enough to pass, anyway and just sort of slipped on by.

That was okay by me, I didn't like attention, anyway.

Meanwhile, my brothers and sisters were always winning some tournament or award and I could hardly blame my parents for failing to notice that, among so much talent, they had one underachiever.

And then, in my third year, I met Andrew Chen.

He was new, small for his age and there weren't many other students who looked like him.

He was a prime target for bullies and in need of a friend or of a protector, at least.

I saw him getting hassled in the hallway one day and decided to step in, literally.

"What's your problem, Hunter?" Gavin Lowell said, shoving me hard with both hands.

"You a fag, too or something?"

"If being a decent person makes me a fag, then I guess I am," I had said.

Gavin hadn't liked that answer and had hit me pretty hard in the gut.

Luckily, I had a good layer of muscle by then and he hurt his hand more than he hurt me.

The next day, Gavin came to school with his wrist in a cast and Andrew and I became friends.

I made sure nobody bullied him and he checked my homework for missing words and backwards 3s.

He showed me his collection of trading cards and since he didn't have any brothers and sisters of his own, I introduced him to mine.

Andrew was the best thing about school, after that. I looked forward to seeing him every day and I wasn't lonely anymore.’

Then, that summer, he went away somewhere and when he came back he'd changed.

He'd had a 'growth spurt,' like Dane, though not as drastic and he'd 'glowed up,' as they say these days.

He'd gotten a hair cut and started wearing makeup and dressing like a pop star.

Pretty soon, I wasn't Andrew's only friend.

He was always surrounded by popular girls and boys and he got invited to do popular things, like go to parties.

I got invited, too but I wasn't always sure of my welcome.

Andrew had changed in more ways than one.

We seldom spent time alone together any more and he'd gotten rid of all his trading cards.

He'd ask me to do stuff, too, like get his books from his locker, or lend him some lunch money.

I didn't mind, we were friends. Except he never seemed to have the time to return the favor, any more.

One day, when he was holding court in an empty classroom with a group of girls, he asked me to get him a bag of Doritos from the vending machines.

I went and when I returned, I heard my own name.

Surprised, I hung back by the door.

"I just wish Hunter would ask me," one girl said.

"Wait, you want to go with Monty?" another asked, sounding incredulous.

The first girl laughed.

"No, dumbass. Not that Hunter. His older brother, the hot one."

"Oh! For a minute I was, like, Whaaa?”

A chorus of laughs erupted at whatever expression she'd made.

"Gross. As if."

"Why do you let that freak hang around, anyway?" another girl asked.

Andrew answered.

"I dunno. He's useful. Like a dog, or something. I say 'fetch' he goes."

More laughter followed.

I looked down at the bag of Doritos in my hand.

I'd got the Ranch-flavored ones because they were Andrew's favorite.

I set them on the floor of the hallway, against the wall outside the door, so he'd find them on his way out.

And then I left and I wasn't friends with Andrew Chen anymore.

That was okay. I felt like I'd done my job and done something good. More importantly, I'd found my calling.

I could protect people, shield them until they didn't need a shield anymore and as long as I didn't think they cared about me, I might not even get hurt doing it.

~ ☾ ~

Fast-forward almost twenty years, I'd made a career of protecting people and a habit of keeping my distance.

As my first boss at the first bodyguard agency told me.

“You can bleed for them. You can die for them, Montreal. It's your job. But the minute you think they care about you is the minute you set yourself up for failure. They don't care about you. They care about their own skin."

I listened and I lived by that for a long time.

My job took me all over, all over the States and around the world.

Los Angeles, New York, Taipei, Beijing, Seoul, Paris, London, Abu Dhabi, Moscow.

It was hard to make friends on the move, harder to make anything else.

I tried, for a while but I was usually on the clock during the usual 'hook-up' hours.

The few times I dared, things didn't work out.

The call-girl, or call-guy, more often, would take one look at me and I'd see this look of dread on his face and we'd end up just watching a movie and eating a pizza together.

That was okay, too, all I wanted was some company, anyway.

I figured that would be my life, being useful and keeping others safe, until my time and luck ran out.

I had my family whenever I went home and didn't need more.

And then, about two years ago, I met Haydn.

He was the son of a politician and he'd agreed to turn State's Evidence, to testify in court, against his dad and expose all the dark shit he'd been up to over the years.

He was conflicted, though, his father's lawyer was his ex-boyfriend.

The stakes were high for all involved, his dad had threatened to kill him if he talked and a lot of people would go to jail if he did.

My job was to keep him safe and sane, until the trial was over and done with.

I was prepared for a difficult, dangerous job.

I wasn't prepared for Haydn.

He was so young, it seemed, only twenty-two and he had worlds within him.

He wanted to be a writer, he told me and from the few pages he showed me, I judged he already was.

He was also easily bored and easily distracted and half my job was arranging entertainment for him, small parties with carefully screened guests.

Per my employer's instruction, I turned a blind eye to the drugs and alcohol and the sex.

Haydn wasn't just a party-boy, though.

Most of the time he was thoughtful and quiet and sweet and he did things no other client ever did.

He treated me like a human being and not just like a trained guard dog.

He asked what I did on the weekends ‘guard him’ and what I liked to do in my free time ‘read and sleep.

He asked about my family and once he got me to open up a little, he seemed really fascinated by the fact I loved my mom and dad and got along with all seven of my brothers and sisters ‘more or less, most of the time.

Pretty soon, he got me talking about other things, home and how I missed it and memories I had and before long he knew almost more about me than I knew about him.

When he threw parties, he always made sure there was some vegetarian food, even though he knew it was against my contract to join in and as time went by, the parties got fewer and farther between, until I had to look at my calendar to remember the last one.

And so my second friendship was like a mirror image of my first, Andrew Chen's interest in me had diminished as his world expanded, Haydn DeMain's increased as his world closed in.

The first time he asked me to hold him, just hold him while he fell asleep, I didn't know what to do, or what to think.

"Just hold me," he'd said.

"That's all I want."

And so I did.

Gradually, we got closer, closer than bodyguard and client, closer than friends but not quite so close as lovers.

That was a line I couldn't cross because as much as I cared about him, I knew Haydn wasn't my Mate and he had no idea such a thing as werewolves even existed.

It was the night before he was set to testify that he kissed me.

He called and asked if I'd get him a glass of water.

Things like that weren't in my job description but of course I did it anyway.

When I handed it to him, he set it aside and then he reached for me and pulled me down to the bed at his side.

I could have resisted, should have, probably but I didn't.

He needed me, more than anyone had needed me before, I thought.

"Monty," he whispered against my lips,

"What if we just ran away? Just you and me. We could go anywhere, right?"

"You'd do that?" I asked.

"And let your dad get away with his crimes?"

He started to cry.

"I didn't ask to be his son, you know. I never asked to be..."

"I know."

I pulled him against me, letting him feel my strength.

"I know. But none of us asked to be born. None of asked to be what we are. You gotta play the hand you're dealt."

I felt him nod against my chest.

"Yeah. But after this, I'm gonna be free, Monty. One way or another, I'm gonna be free."

I should have listened more carefully, I guess.

~ ☾ ~

The day of the trial, I helped Haydn dress in a navy-blue suit his lawyer said would convey innocence and believability.

I didn't know why he'd need to convey such things, if he was telling the truth but then, I'm not a lawyer.

I escorted him to the courthouse and before he went in, while we waited in the antechamber, he came up to me and pulled me down by my tie into a kiss.

I fell back on my training and protocol, straightening my spine and standing like a statue against the wall.

Haydn laughed.

"When we're out of this and if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna make you relax, Montreal."

Then he went into the courtroom and I didn't see him again for ten hours.

Later, in his hotel room, he lay on his bed while I worked the tension from his back.

Even though the testimony was done, it was still too risky to call in any outside services, like a masseuse, so jobs like this fell to me.

I didn't mind.

I liked the physical contact and the sense I was doing something real to help my client.

My friend.

My...

Haydn rolled over and looked up at me, covered only by a thin, white sheet draped over his hips and thighs.’

"Monty..."

He smiled.

"You know what I really want right now?"

"What?"

"I want champagne. Cold, perfectly chilled champagne. And... a cheeseburger. You know, I think I could die happy right now if had some good champagne and a really good cheeseburger. Could you get that for me?"

I looked at him, uncertain but he just smiled.

"Hey, it's over," he said.

"I'm free. You and me, we're free, Monty. We can go anywhere, do anything. So let's go, okay? Let's just go somewhere. Where do you want to go?"

I thought for a moment.

"I never been to the Bahamas," I said and he grinned.

"Then let's go to the Bahamas. You and me. Let's just go and see and find out what's there."

It sounded like such a good plan, I couldn't help but agree.

Maybe a little getaway was just what he needed.

I just had to clear it with my boss.

"Alright," I said.

"We'll go. And in the meantime, I'll get you that champagne and cheeseburger."

I headed for the door and he called after me.

"Get yourself one, too, okay? And eat it on the way back, hot and fresh. Don't wait for me."

"Alright," I agreed, with an uncertain smile.

"You're the boss."

~ ☾ ~

First, I cleared the travel plans with my agency.

I was so high-level by then, they'd give me pretty much whatever my client asked.

Then I ordered chilled champagne from room service and looked up the best cheeseburgers in the city.

Luckily, the top listed place was nearby and still open.

I drove the two blocks, ordered one deluxe quarter-pounder and one veggie burger to go and drove back to the hotel.

And of course I didn't eat my meal on the way, I wanted to share it with him.

Even though the danger had passed, as Haydn had said, my instincts were on high alert the whole way, in the parking lot of the hotel, as I swiped my key-card to enter; riding the elevator to the second floor and walking down the deserted hallway with its diamond-patterned floor.

Everything was fine, though, until I unlocked his door.

Then, the scent of blood hit me strong.

My Wolf senses, dormant so long, awoke in that instant and I knew in my heart that Haydn was dead.

It was his blood and nobody could lose that much and live.

I found him on the bed, right where I'd left him, with his veins laid open elbow to wrist and I don't remember much, after that.

There were paramedics and police...

There was my boss, telling me it wasn't my fault...

There was an order for champagne on my credit card and two cheeseburgers going cold in a bag on the floor.

Somehow, someone got me out of there and into a different room, in a different hotel.

And some days after that, I turned in my resignation and I headed to California, to join my brother's Pack.

I hoped to spend the rest of my life responsible for nothing more than babysitting my little twin nephew and niece.

‘We must tend to our garden,’ as Candide says to the philosopher Pangloss.

Mind our own lives, in other words.

That's all I wanted.

A garden, maybe a blacksmithing business, one day.

And then you showed up on my doorstep, Kit.

And here we are.

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coquelicoq · 3 years

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trying on outfits for my important work presentation tomorrow. dresses feel bad. menswear feels bad. my gender is I Don't Want To Be Here and my gender expression is pajamas.

#everyone talks about coming to gender realizations during quarantine blah blah #my gender realizations are the same as before except i got to forget about them for a while and now they're like knock knock guess who #actually i am having this new thing lately where even though i am cis and most people irl make the correct assumption about my pronouns #and i do like it when people irl call me the wrong pronouns because they guessed wrong (that's not new but it's very rare these days #because a) i never leave the house so who's looking at me lol and b) my hair grew out during the pandemic)#i feel like...really happy when someone who doesn't know me irl uses the correct pronouns for me on the internet?#i think because in that situation they're not going off of any aspect of my appearance (since i don't share that online)#but are just. going to the trouble to look at what i said my pronouns were in my header. and then using those #it just means they cared enough to do that and that means a lot to me suddenly #most non-mutuals on here use 'they' pronouns for me (that i've seen)#and i'm okay with that because i feel like they pronouns should just be the default for people you don't know #so it always reads to me as like...this person is being respectful and not making assumptions (which i appreciate)#but also my pronouns are right there. so it does feel really good when people use the right ones #my posts #anyway idk what i'm gonna wear. guess we'll see what feels least bad in the morning

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aresrambles · 3 years

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I just really like the idea of an amnesiac s/o who has to be reminded everyday that they're dating Shigaraki! I think Shigaraki would eventually get tired of this and try to get rid of them by just leaving them outside since they can't remember him or recent memories whenever they wake up but he just can't no matter what he tries to tell himself.

My Sweetheart

shigaraki x gender neutral reader - semi-angst idfk, amnesia, abandonment, drabble (569 words)

a/n: dude i ADORED this idea and i’m so peeved that it was sent during a total writing-block couple of weeks because i wasn’t able to do it justice at all. but thanks so much for sending it in, it’s a rly unique idea anon~ (≧◡≦)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Shigaraki had long ago stopped searching for a hint of recognition in your eyes. Sluggishly sprawled out in his gaming chair, he ignores your quiet inquiries about who he was, and what you were doing here in this foreign place.

To tell you that you had been here for what was now approaching three years, was useless. Everyday he would guide you through the same story, show you the same pictures, explaining what had happened.

At some point in the last couple years, a mission had gone terribly wrong. Your injury had led to you now unable to form new memories and then retain them for any longer than a period of a few hours. Shigaraki thought he could do it, at first. He thought he could explain to you every single day about how deeply he cared for you, and that you were safe there.

But he was wrong. His patience had now become increasingly thin and it was only a matter of time before he would leave you to your own devices. If that meant allowing you to run from him, and face the world on your own, then so be it. He was tired of playing babysitter.

“Come with me.” he suddenly one day snaps, grabbing your arm with all fingers except his pinky, and tugging you out of the property. You can’t help but wonder where he’s leading you, and instead focus on the ache on your arm. You question whether holding you this hard must be a habit of his, or perhaps you’ve angered him somehow. You walk for a while in silence, still guided by Shigaraki, until you come to reach a bus stop.

“Take this- it’s like, what, seventy thousand yen? It’ll cover food and maybe a roof for a little. I don’t fucking know, even if it doesn’t- it’s not my problem anymore.” Thrusting a couple of tattered notes in to your hands, he pulls away immediately.

And with that, he leaves you, stranded alone at the bus stop with no idea where to go. Shigaraki tells himself it’s okay. It really wasn’t his responsibility to look after a person who didn’t even remember him. It’s not like you would even realise that he left you after a bit, so why does it matter? Why is his chest burning up with guilt? In a few hours you would fall back into the same pattern and forget he even existed.

But still, there was something. Something that was screaming and begging for him to turn back and scoop you up into his arms. To shield you from the harsh reality of this shitty world and play into the fantasy, if only for a while. If only for another hundred days before he’d inevitably succumb to those same draining thoughts. Shigaraki decides that this feeling is enough, for now.

He turns back and sees you some distance away, lingering at the stop, exactly where he left you, looking cluelessly around. Almost as though you had just… forgotten how you got there in the first place.

“Hey!” Shigaraki realizes he didn’t have anything to follow up with, as you look back at him - a deer caught in the headlights.

“What’re you doing there?”

You shuffle under this strangers intense glare, taking a moment to decide whether to offer up the information or not. But something tells you that it’s okay.

“This might sound silly, but I forgot.”

#bnha #shigaraki x reader #boku no hero academia shigaraki #drabble #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki mha #shigaraki x you #shigaraki imagine #yandere shigaraki #dabi x reader #mha dabi #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #shigaraki x yn #ares rambles

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astrochemstry · 3 years

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Heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy how are u? Can i please have some headcanons for the main four eddsworld boys with a reader that drink a lot of coffee with no sugar? Thank you!

Hello anon!! Doing good and Thank you for requesting :D this is an interesting request huhu

This can be interpreted as romantic and platonic

Gender neutral reader

EDD:

Scared

Intimidated

Why???

This guy loves cola

Sugar

Su ga r

And if hes drinking coffee, it hAS to have sugar

“How do you drink that???? Why?? whY?? How?” “with a cup and swallowing it”

Hes okay with it but just intimidated as hell

Especially since you keep drinking it a lot

“Im just concerned Tom, what if they die from all that Coffee?” “You drink Cola everyday- now find the answer.”

He makes coffee puns btw

“Hey! You better stop drinking a latte-” “oh theres a cup of coffee! Where has it bean your whole life?”

He even got Matt into it lmao

“Edd, we’re going to the mall-” “I can’t fully espresso my excitement!” “oh my god.”

He once broke your coffee maker and managed to buy another one

“Hey (Name)-” “Look, Edd, i don't-”

And then you see him holding the box for the coffee maker and a coffee in his other hand

“I made a pot of coffee, espresso-ly for you.”

What a dork

MATT:

Ah the ginger bread man

bro is terrified of coffee

If you thought Tord just punched him

weLL GUESS WHAT

BRO POURED COFFEE ON HIM

STEAMING HOT COFFEE

Not on purpose tho

Matt and Edd tried to scare him and he was drinking Coffee so

Anyways

He does think its bad for you to drink A LOT of coffee

“(naaaaaameee) stoooooop!! That coffee is distracting you from my beautiful face!!”

Uh he tried it once actually

When he got zapped by that gun which makes u forget?

He saw ur coffee and went “oH????”

He uh didnt know how to make coffee with the coffee maker

So he just drank yours

Hes runNing around hES up the rooftoP HE brOke ur coffee maker and probably at Eduardo’s house now

In the end he swore to never drink coffee again

He woke up at a dumpsite after he didnt feel so energetic

But i mean he can be unaware sometimes and he doesnt even realize hes drinking your coffee

He wonders why theres ‘mud stains’ on his face after he leaves the kitchen

But deep down, somewhere,

He knows.

TOM:

Ehh hes just neutral about it? but

Concerned tho abt u drinking coffee a lot

Very concerned

“Im just concerned, Edd. I don't want them to die after some- coffee crash-” “Ok- didnt i talk to you about this before? Also you drink smirnoff all the time.” “Touche.”

Hes the one hiding the coffee from u whenever it gets too much

Tried to hide the coffee maker, broke it but managed to get away with it actually

But felt guilty and did tell the truth to you

Tord drinks coffee too and youre coffee buddies and hes uh

“Stay away from this guy hes dangerous” “we’re literally drinking coffee?”

Yeah not after The end

CouGHCOUGH COUGH SNEEZE

I mean it could be expected he hates the coffee bcs Tord drinks it too buuuuut

that aint gonna stop him from trying new things just bcs some guy he hates drinks it too, hes a mature guy

Anyways

Hes tried it before and he drinks it only when hes feeling tired

Vv tired and stuff

One time Edd got everyone (except Matt) to drink coffee with sugar

Actually i mean mixing it with his Cola

Yeah

Tord didnt like it, tasted weird but he felt REALLY energetic

Though the aftermath wasnt so good

Edd, of course, loved it but said “still not better than the real thing.”

And actually Tom likes it too

“Not like smirnoff buut, its good.”

He actually drinks with you from time to time since Tord went off

Hes pretty chill abt it tbh and sometimes forgets you drink a lot

TORD:

Like the last three, concerned but

Hes just yolo, your life, your problems, your pain tbh

He drinks coffee

Not that much like everyday

I mean when he was still livin with the guys

But since he left and went around to make some thing

Cough

He stays up a lot to finish a project

coUGH

So he needs coffee to energize the fuck outta him

Though it doesnt affect him that much now, cant be energized with something hes tasted for like 365 days and 2 years

So before he went away

You guys drank coffee together

Like you and him will get out of your rooms and make coffee

“Tired?” “very.”

And yk just chat about stuff

Pretty chill stuff until you get close

Bro starts making challenges

Even worse than cola in coffee

“I think i can sneeze the coffee out of my nose- hey lets try it whoever does it fir-” “oh my god”

Actually he started selling some of them using your coffee maker

Managed to make a couple of cash

But he broke it

Yes all 4 of them broke your coffee maker equally

He used his recently gained money for it lmao :’)

Actually you don't see him much with coffee

Most of the time he drinks it inside his room or at early mornings

He invites u to hang out tho

Coffee and bird watching

Until he shoots one

Pretty good shot tho

oK so he leaves the gang to pursue a dream

COVUUUCHHCHGHCOU GH COU GH

You guys keep in contact through skype, zoom whatever app you wanna use lol

You guys just drink coffee with cameras on while working on stuff

And having a convo

“Hows the gang?” “same old same old, what about you?” “eh, been alright.”

And uh after The end, bro still drinks it

But it aint making him energized

Oh boy does he wish he didnt ban cola

Co U GH

Overall, very chill with the coffee and he doesnt drink it with sugar either

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Hello there may I request the Dimitrescu daughters celebrating their s/o birthday, it’s my birthday today☺️

Happy belated birthday, anon!!! Wishing you many more happy (and hopefully less chaotic) years to come! Under read more for length.

Bela + Birthday

On one hand, she wants to be the first thing you see when you wake up. On the other hand, she’s got a million things planned, and no matter how much help she enlists, she’s bound to end up running late. So maybe she’s not the first thing you see, but she’s crawling into your bed before you have a chance to fully wake up. Wrapping her arms around you, murmuring ‘good morning’ and ‘I love you’ into your ears. Sleepy kisses all around<3

Will stay with you for as long as you want, but will ‘subtly’ encourage you to get up eventually, after all she’s spent the past month planning this day. It’s possible that she’ll end up slowly sliding out of bed, an inch a minute, saying ‘no more kisses until you get up’.

Once you’re out of bed, it’s time for a decadent breakfast. A whole buffet table filled with your favorites (the ones appropriate for this time of day, at least), with any servants you’re friends with being allowed to join in. If you’re not from Romania, Bela will go out of her way to have the cooks learn recipes from whatever country you grew up in. Might throw in a few non-breakfast items too. Mmmm, thinking about my family’s krumkake recipe now, so good<3

What happens next depends a lot on your specific personality. If you enjoy parties and social gatherings, there will be festivities in one of the castle’s larger rooms, again with any of your friends being allowed to join (even visitors from the village, should you wish to invite them). A large cake will be served, likely baked by none other than Ava Caldwell (please excuse my shameless OC mention).

If you’re more introverted, or shy, Bela will keep the gathering very small, likely just her family and you. There will be music, a few gifts from the family, similar but smaller treats. Less energetic, more casual and comfy family time.

Come lunch time, the two of you will have some private time again. Depending on weather/season, she’ll either take you for a picnic in the garden, or a quiet meal in the observatory. Think candles, lots of strategically placed flowers, warm blankets… all that cheesy stuff. Afterwards, she’ll let you take the reins for a bit. Essentially, you’ll spend some quality time doing your favorite hobbies together. Feel free to info dump/rant all you want, Bela will stare at you with love in her eyes regardless of the subject.

Once you’ve had your fun together, it’ll be time for dinner, which will once more be with her family. Everyone will be on their best behavior (under threat of blackmail, except for Alcina, who’s just, you know, a good mother who wants her daughter to be happy). Again the cooks will go all out for the meal, making whatever dishes weren’t appropriate for breakfast. There will probably be leftovers- unless, of course, you decide to let the other servants enjoy what you cannot finish.

Finally, before bed, Bela will let you open the gifts from her. The two of you will be in either her room or her private study, away from everyone else. She’ll have prepared 3 gifts for you. One will relate to your personal interests (a hobby, a movie/book series you love, etc), one will be something the two of you can do together, and the last will be something you can wear/keep on you to remind you of her (not that you could ever forget, really).

I’ll leave the detail of what happens that night to your imagination, dear reader, so as to not assume anything about *ahem* attractions, gender, or any possible… deviances (kinks, if that wasn’t clear). Regardless, there is cuddling<3

Cassandra + Birthday

Wakes you up, first thing in the morning, with kisses. Just crawls into bed with you and smothers you in somewhat sleepy affection. Do you know how hard it was for her to get up at this hour? Relatively! Which is why you’re not allowed to get up get up, at least not for a while. Mandatory girlfriend snuggles. No escape. If the two of you are, ya know, of the persuasion to do certain things… without clothing… then yeah, that’s probably also happening. Please don’t judge me, I’m tired (and asexual) and am trying to avoid this being unnecessarily ns/fw.

Doesn’t really want to share you at all, even on your birthday, but will let you mingle with friends/have a nice group breakfast if that’s what you want. Just expect to be sitting in her lap for as long as she can get you to, alright? Might tone it down if her family is around (okay, well, if her mother is around). Will pretend to judge people for whatever gifts they get you unless you specifically ask her to stop. Repeatedly whispers things in your ears to distract you, ranging from the audaciously inappropriate to “my gift is going to be so much better than that” to very sweet “I love you”s.

Lets you plan as much or as little as you want for your special day, though won’t hesitate to suggest things if you struggle to come up with stuff/can’t decide. Again, she’d prefer to spend as much of the day with you as possible, and would prefer your gatherings be very small. Like, maybe just the two of you. Going on a hike to your favorite spot, or painting together (even if you don’t know what you’re doing, because she’ll get nice and close to help ;) ), or just curling up with her somewhere cozy.

Whatever you end up doing for the day, she’ll probably have a servant pack you guys some lunches, so you don’t have to interrupt whatever you’re doing.

Dinner will be… a surprise. Planning is not her area of expertise, so Cassandra will enlist the help of her older sister, resulting in a romantic meal that, well, at least has hints of your girlfriend’s personality in it. Yes, she picked out the color of the napkins. Yes, the flowers she had asked for turned out to be poisonous, so yes they did have to swap them out last minute. Oops, you darn humans and your ‘mortal weaknesses’. Honestly, the display is very touching. She asked for help to do something nice for you<3

At the end of the night, she’ll take you to her art studio, where there’s a big painting that’s been covered up for a few days or so. She’ll pull the sheet off, oddly shy, and you’ll see it’s a lovely portrait of the two of you… except you’ll be wearing a necklace that you’ve never seen before. Which Cassandra will quickly pull out of her pocket, to give you as the second part of your gift :D

Cue a night of cuddling (and possibly other activities… such as sleeping).

Daniela + Birthday

Might as well bodyslam you first thing in the morning, honestly. She’s very excited, and loves you very much, and just wants to have some nice morning cuddling (and kissing). Solution? Make sure that she spends the previous night in the same bed as you. Seriously, it’ll save you a fair amount of pain.

Has the least planned of the three, despite having the most ideas, mostly because she struggles to actually organize things. Expect to spend however long you want in bed, just relaxing, probably still with lots of kisses and cheesy dialogue about how much she loves you. When you get up, however, the two of you will be surprised to see that Daniela’s family decided to help her get shit together.

There will be a nice breakfast, with your friends present, and Bela might even delay her own meal just to play some music for you. Afterwards, the family will give you their gifts. They won’t make you open them yet if you decide to save it for later, though, so no worries.

Then, you and Daniela will be encouraged to go out and have some fun. Which means a nice almost-picnic in the gardens, with less of a meal, more of some sweets/snackies. Cue more cuddling, and dorky poetry reading. The poetry will always start out serious… but by the end you’ll both be trying to find the lamest, cheesiest poems you can get, reading them to each other in increasingly ridiculous voices. Somehow you’ll end up reciting dirty limericks. Eventually you realize that Daniela isn’t even going through her books to find them, and is actually making them up as she goes. You’re not sure you want to know how she gained this skill.

Eventually you’ll head back inside, for lunch. At this point, there will be more music, some optional dancing, with a surprising amount of servants being allowed to just enjoy themselves. If parties aren’t your thing, Daniela will be more than willing to sneak you off somewhere more… private. For various reasons, you know. Doesn’t have to be anything more than cuddling. But this is Daniela we’re talking about, so…

The evening will mostly be up to you, with Daniela wanting to do whatever you want to do, even if it’s not something she’d normally enjoy. She just wants you to be happy<3

Dinner will be romantic, like with Cassandra, if admittedly far more chaotic. Still, it’s very lovely, and she’ll probably get adorably flustered as she tries to make things perfect for you. Expect her to get you multiple smaller gifts, and repeatedly mention that she wasn’t sure what to get you, so she kinda just… got everything. It might be best to reassure her that you mostly care about spending time with her. But, you know, also tell her you enjoy the gifts because she really did panic about them.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu

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chilligyu · 3 years

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info: lee jihoon/gender neutral reader, pg, best friends to lovers au genre: fluff, romance | word ct: 5.5k warnings: none summary: when it came to love, no one was prepared. not even jihoon, who could spend hours turning words into magic, especially when love was mysteriously delivered in the form of a letter to his locker. note: heavily inspired by to all the boys I've loved before, but with a twist! no love triangles or anything like that, so just enjoy awkward people falling in love! and thank you to @dreamystuffers and @starlightjoong for taking a sneak peek and telling me what you think!

tagging: @xfirebenderx, @moriiyun, @ohmygoshcheese, @gyu-log

Lee Jihoon, a genius in many ways, was never good when it came to words. At least, not the spoken kind. The kind that you had to think up on the spot, responses, answers, comebacks, small talk, he was absolutely terrible at it. But if you gave him the time to think, to really dwell on his thoughts, he could create something truly beautiful. Which was why he preferred to express his feelings with letters. And while, yes, he could pen something magnificent, the next great classic novel perhaps, he typically kept his messages short and to the point. Much like the man himself.

There was one time that he wrote a “letter” that was simply—

F U C K Y O U

—printed out on seven separate sheets of paper and taped to a row of lockers. All in response to a teacher confiscating his iPod. No one could prove it was him, though, and nothing happened in response to it. He never admitted to his crimes, and despite it being painfully obvious who the author of the message was, there was no hard proof pointing to the culprit. It became the most well-known secret at their high school. And Lee Jihoon became somewhat of a living legend because of it.

The only one who knew the truth was you. His best friend. You were his go-to when it came to proof reading all of his letters. He was the writer, you were the editor. Half the time you were also a berating parent, chastising him for trying to assault people with words. Which was also why, more often than not, his letters never got sent. He would sit in his room for hours, writing letters that were either half the length of novels or only a few sentences long, and after giving it over to be edited, it would get tucked away in his desk drawer. Never to be seen or heard from again.

See, Jihoon was an emotional person. Not in the sense that most people would assume, he didn’t get offended easily, one mean comment wouldn’t leave him crying, he was simply—emotional. Whatever he was feeling, whether it be good or bad, it was powerful, sometimes overwhelming. So instead of erupting like a hormonal volcano, which he had already done plenty of, he put his emotions to paper. At the behest of his aforementioned best friend.

“You can’t go around yelling at people.” You began one afternoon just after entering high school. “Even if you’re writing it down, you’re still yelling at people.”

Jihoon, the definition of “hard to read”, was visibly pouting. “You’re the one who told me to write down how I feel. Now I can’t even send these to anyone?”

“I mean, you can.” You backpedalled. “I’m not your mother, despite Seokmin’s insistence. I can’t stop you from doing anything you’ve set your heart to. All I can do is advise you not to because you’re going to have a terrible few years here if everyone hates you.”

He clearly wasn’t thrilled by your logical response, but he admitted defeat anyway. “Fine. Don’t send the letters that I write. I get it. No one wants to read them.”

You groaned loudly. “You are so dramatic. I’m saying don’t send the literal hate mail to people. Don’t send the stuff you write to vent out your feelings. But if there’s something you want to say to someone, something that you can’t bring yourself to say out loud, by all means! Send the thing! I know you loathe the idea of talking to people, you also hate being misunderstood more.”

He also hated how well you knew him, not that he would ever say that out loud.

That was also something he wrote down in a letter, one he decided to send.

You crumpled it up immediately and threw it back at his face.

“Letters are powerful things, Jihoon.” You added. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives with nothing more than words. Because words mean so many different things to so many different people. You just gotta say the right ones.”

At first, he was only humoring you. Honestly, he thought you completely senile until he gave it a shot. After spending hours hunched over his desk writing things no one else would see, he was starting to realize that maybe you had a point. Instead of roaming the halls shouting obscenities in his head, he was able to reassure himself by knowing he could write about it later. Even the smallest grievance, he would write it down. He would sometimes scribble it down on the margin of a textbook if he was feeling particularly overwhelmed in the middle of the day.

The letters became his therapy, his outlet, eventually he could stroll past some annoying upperclassmen and not feel rage coursing through his veins. It was—nice, almost. Not being subjected to his own hectic imagination at every turn. Feeling at peace for the first time in what felt like ages.

Until he found a letter in his locker, one addressed to him during his senior year. From a secret admirer. The contents of which would be seared into his memory for the remainder of time.

Lee Jihoon, it began.

I have never been able to tell you how I feel, in person or in a letter. For several months now, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to write letters like you for so long, and I just can’t get the words right. I don’t know how you do it. So I’m going to do something different. I’m going to stop being scared. If you meet me in the courtyard after school, I’m going to be brave for the first time in my life. Please help me be brave, Jihoon.

Again and again, he read that short letter. Practically baffled that someone out there wrote an honest-to-god letter that was addressed to an honest-to-god person. And that he wasn’t the writer, that he was the recipient. The thought alone made his heart race, and to comprehend that this secret admirer perhaps harbored feelings towards him? It was next to impossible. But no one writes a letter without true emotion behind it. That’s a fact he was coming to understand.

“I need you to come with me.” He told you after showing you the letter. “I’m—I’m not sure I can do this alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jihoon, obviously this person doesn’t want to make a public event out of their confession. You should really do this without me.”

“I know, and I’m not asking you to stand at my side or anything.” He reiterated. “Can you like—stand in a bush or something? If I know that you’re there I won’t feel the need to—"

“Did you just ask me to stand in a bush?” You guffawed. “You did not just ask me to stand in a bush Lee Jihoon because if you did then you’re about to get your ass kicked into next year!”

“I didn’t mean literally!” He quickly denied when he did, in fact, mean it literally. “Just—stand around the corner, okay? Be my moral support!”

Pursing your lips, you knew that there was no getting out of this. “Alright, fine. I’ll come with you. But I’m not happy about it.”

“I’ll pay you back, I promise.” He swore. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

A smirk teased at your lips. “You could mention it more.”

“Consider it done.” Jihoon grinned, gathering up his things and heading for the door. “Don’t forget! After school! Courtyard! Don’t be late!”

Once he was gone and you were completely alone, your face fell in disappointment. “I wouldn’t dream of it…”

By the time that school was finally over for the day, Jihoon was a bundle of overactive nerves. He was excited and terrified and anxious and nauseous all at once. The bombarding sensations kept him cemented in place, gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles were about to burst through. He had been like that for the entirety of their last class, still as a statue as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. You were standing in front of him, head tilted and wondering what he was planning to do next.

“Class is over.” You reminded him. “Everyone’s left.”

Very slowly, he nodded. “Y-yeah. I can see that.”

His voice sounded as if it had been completely stripped down. Like he had screamed himself hoarse by saying those few words.

“Your secret admirer is probably waiting.” You tried to spur him. “We should get going before I change my mind and head home.”

He audibly swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Well—maybe that’s best. Yeah, I can wait until tomorrow.”

You eyed him incredulously. “You’re going to stay here until tomorrow. You’re insane, get up.”

“I’d rather not.”

“And I’d rather not grow old and die here.” You countered. “C’mon, Jihoon. Your admirer asked you to help them be brave, how exactly is this helping them?”

He had to admit, you had a point. If they were brave enough to put their feelings out there, he had to at least meet them half way.

Sighing loudly, he started to pry his fingers off his desk. “Alright, fine. We’ll do things your way.”

You rolled your eyes for perhaps the hundredth time. “You’re absolutely insufferable. Why do I hang out with you?”

“Because I’m funny.” He said with the most serious face in the world.

Which actually made you laugh.

“I hate you.” You chuckled. “C’mon, let’s get going while we’re still young.”

Jihoon inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm himself down.

This is just the beginning.

Except—it wasn’t.

He stood in the courtyard, seemingly alone, with the note that brought him there clutched tight in his hand. As his moral support you were keeping your distance, as promised, but no one else joined you. Minutes passed and he did his best to remain hopeful. It was hard, especially when a familiar voice nagged at the back of his mind. The same one he struggled with every day to ignore.

No one would ever like you, so why did you bother thinking otherwise?

While the negative thoughts slowly took over, Jihoon didn’t know what to do next. He was defeated, almost destroyed. And even though you walked up behind him and took his hand in yours, it did little to stop the bitter tears from welling in his eyes.

“I should’ve known…” He whispered angrily. “This was all just—a joke. It’s always a joke. Who could ever like me?”

“Stop it, Jihoon.” You hissed at him, squeezing his hand tighter. “They said they were scared, maybe they couldn’t follow through with it. Maybe they were afraid of being rejected. You never know what’s going through someone’s head. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

Nothing you said was going to make him feel better. He quickly wrenched himself from your grip and backed away from you.

“I’m going home.” He clipped. “Bye.”

Before he left, he made sure to crumple up the note and toss it at your feet. When his heart was broken, he wore it on his sleeve. You understood what Jihoon was feeling, he had been living with an extremely low self esteem due to his height and his general inability to make friends for as long as you knew him. He was quiet, shy, reserved, he was slow to open up to others and hesitant to trust. That’s why you tried to be excited for him, and now that things hadn’t gone as planned in more ways than one your heart ached just like his.

The next day, Jihoon strolled into class like a drunk zombie. By the looks of him, he hadn’t slept a wink. Too busy being destroyed by his own thoughts to bother with anything like sustenance or sleep. He took up his seat beside you, and you immediately shoved your desk into his.

“Still upset?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer.

Sluggishly he lifted his head up and then quickly dropped it back down.

It was worse than you thought.

“Are you going to talk to me today?” You teased in an attempt to get a reaction. “Or am I going to have to go bother Hansol?”

Grumbling slightly, the barely responsive mass that was your best friend raised his hand and dropped a crumpled wad of paper on your desk. At first, you assumed it was just another one of his letters. They weren’t uncommon when he was feeling—unwell.

But it was another note from his secret admirer.

You were startled because he didn’t usually stop at his locker in the morning.

Lee Jihoon, it started similarly.

I’m sorry for not showing up yesterday, I was scared. I couldn’t bring myself to face you, please don’t be mad at me. I’d like to keep writing you letters, if that’s okay. Let’s get to know each other and maybe one day I can be brave again.

Once you were finished reading, you immediately began analyzing Jihoon’s face again. You had never seen him look like this before, completely vacant. While he was hard to read to the entire world, he was always an open book to you. Now reading him was nearly impossible even with your expertise.

“What are you gonna do?”

He shrugged lazily. “I don’t know. Sit here for the rest of eternity. Wait for the soft embrace of death.”

“Jihoon.” You exasperated. “We both know you’re not actually going to do that.”

Except he actually might and you actually couldn’t take that chance.

“Are you going to write them a letter?” You tried, again. “Maybe that will work out better.”

“I already did.” He murmured. “I don’t think they want to read it though.”

“Jesus Christ…” You groaned loudly, taking Jihoon’s face in your hands and looking him dead in his lifeless eyes. “They still like you, they’re scared and human like the rest of us, it is not the end of the world! Give them another chance and stop being such a goddamn drama queen!”

Silence. Pure unadulterated and perfectly aggravating silence.

“Alright, you leave me no choice. I’m bringing out the big guns.”

Being careful to keep an eye on the teacher, you pulled out your phone and started texting Jihoon’s mother. According to your message, you and Jihoon were going to be studying late at the library, and he would probably need to spend the night at your house. Which wasn’t a complete lie, maybe you would get some studying done. But, in all honesty, you had other things in mind.

“Take your pick.” You instructed, a box set in each hand. “Descendants of the Sun, or Record of Youth.”

Immediately after school, you dragged your best friend to your house and sat him down in front of the TV. Your parents didn’t even question it when you told them this intervention was a matter of life and death, that the patient might need to be admitted for the night. They simply let you do what needed to be done.

Jihoon, who had been relatively catatonic for the past 24 hours, finally showed a glimmer of something. He gave the slightest suggestion of a nod towards Descendants of the Sun and you happily popped in the first disk. As you claimed a spot beside him, popcorn and banana milk in tow, he naturally relaxed against you. You were the only person who got to see him unguarded like that, the only person he himself would allow. And while he was typically someone who kept his true self hidden from the world, there was a part of him that would forever belong only to you.

“Thanks.” He practically whispered, resting his head on your shoulder. “I—I needed this.”

“I know.” You smiled. “Are you ready to talk yet?”

He sighed heavily. “No. Not really. I still have a lot of thinking to do.”

“Well, if you need help thinking you know where I’ll be.” You offered without wanting to seem pushy.

If you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn he actually chuckled.

“Yeah. I do.”

Little by little, your best friend was slowly returning to normal—or as close to normal as you’ve ever seen him. Eventually he started getting sucked into the drama, going rigid when things got tense, and actively pretended he wasn’t crying whenever You Are My Everything played. It was, overall, a job well done. You could sleep easy knowing that Jihoon would be just fine. As you drifted off, you felt him hold your hand and squeeze it gently.

Everything was going to be okay.

And if only to prove that point, the next day was nothing like the one before. Jihoon was back to his old self as if nothing had happened at all. Just another Thursday without a word or whisper about the chaotic tornado his secret admirer had unleashed onto your day-to-day life. He even had a letter for you to read by the time lunch rolled around. Apparently, some freshman irritated him over something seemingly small. At least—to you it seemed barely worth mentioning. But nothing ever really felt small to Jihoon. It was all or nothing, always living in black and white. Which meant that almost everything was important to him in some way. So you read the letter, and you edited it gladly.

Once you were done, he had something else for you. Another note from the admirer.

“This is the third one, right?” You murmured, glancing it over once before looking up at him. “Have you written back yet? Besides the one where I assumed you insulted their very existence with your entire arsenal of hurtful words.”

The blush crawling up his neck was an answer in and of itself, but the thick stack of paper he pulled out of his backpack solidified it.

“I’ve tried a few times.” He admitted hesitantly. “Nothing I write is good enough.”

“Oh, only a few times?” You teased, knowing full well that Jihoon’s definition of a few was the same as calling Jane Eyre a short shopping list. “What’s got you so stuck? Usually you have no issues penning essays over trivial things like cracks in the sidewalk.”

His brow furrowed defiantly. “Hey, proper sidewalk and road maintenance is important to modern infrastructure. If we start overlooking cracks in the pavement, then what? What about traffic lights? Can we afford to allow a single bulb to go out? No, of course not. That’s anarchy.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“Jihoon…” You started with an exasperated look. “I was joking.”

Trying to hide the fact that his blush was turning a deep crimson, and failing quite miserably, he pulled a paper from the stack and put it back in his bag. Also something he tried, and failed, to hide from you.

“Are you kidding me!” You laughed, raking a hand down your face. “Did you seriously have a letter in that pile you were going to send to our congressman?”

“No—yes—ugh!” He groaned. “Can we forget about the stupid sidewalk for a second! That’s not important right now! Help me! How do I do this?”

Deciding you had teased your best friend enough, you placed your chin in your hand and smiled at him. “How do you do what, exactly? I’ve never had anything to do with the letters you write, I just read them so someone knows how you’re feeling.”

Who were you kidding, you could never tease Jihoon enough.

He rolled his eyes so hard that he rolled his whole head with them. “Like you’ve ever needed further insight into my head, you always know what I’m thinking before I do.”

True.

“But I don’t understand the first thing about—this.” He finished with a labored sigh, gesturing sharply to the handwritten novel in front of him. “You know that better than anyone.”

Again, he was telling the truth. In the years you had known Jihoon he had never developed serious feelings towards someone else. He had barely entertained the notion since entering high school. He always talked himself out of it because feelings were complicated and bothersome. Plus, he was terrified of being rejected. Like most people are. His intrusive thoughts just so happened to be louder than most.

“I hate to break it to you, Jihoon,” You started in a whisper, “no one knows the first thing about this. Not even me. The only person who can help you is yourself.”

His sour expression made it obvious that he obviously didn’t like your response. “Great. Super helpful. Thank you for your continued wisdom.”

When he moved away from you, you grabbed him by the sweater and pulled him back in. “Why do you always stop listening to me when I’m about to make my point?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Because it takes you forever to fucking get there.”

“Alright, you got me there.” You chuckled. “Listen, I’m not kidding when I say that you’ve got to do this one on your own. As much as I can usually sense what feelings are doing somersaults in your stomach, this is a first for you and therefore a first for me. I’ve never seen you like this before, so unfortunately you’ve got to discover this one on your own.”

As you spoke, his features slowly softened until all that remained was a very nervous teenager who didn’t want to screw up his first real chance at love. That’s all Jihoon was at his core, that’s all anyone was.

But you had to admit he almost looked kind of cute.

Almost.

“How do you always know what to say?” He grumbled while crossing his arms. “It’s annoying.”

“You’ve got a really weird way of saying thank you.” You smirked playfully. “Well, maybe this last nugget of advice will get you started in the right direction.”

“Why are you always—” He seethed through his teeth. “How are you still not at whatever your point is!”

You shrugged, because you honestly had no clue. “I'll get there when I get there. You want to hear it or not—”

“Spit. It. Out.”

“Now is that anyway to—”

Wow. You stopped, suddenly fearing for your measly life. If looks could kill—

“Alright, alright, you win.” You conceded. “If you’re having issues writing a letter to your secret admirer, here’s my advice. Stop trying to put words to your feelings and start putting feelings into words. You’re spending too much time trying to say it perfectly that you’re not saying it at all. It doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else, it doesn’t even need to make sense to you. So long as you put them out into the world, they’ll be heard and one day they’ll be understood. You get me?”

The look on his face was—strange. You had a hard time placing it, which should’ve been weirder than it was. In fact, you were seeing lots of different sides to Jihoon lately, sides you never thought existed. This time his eyes widened, the aforementioned scarlet blush had disappeared, and there was a radiance to him that you had never seen before. Like suddenly he could see clearly through the storm of his thoughts.

“Thank you.” He exhaled with a smile. “I’ve never thought about it like that before.”

Feeling triumphant, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m starting to wonder what you’d do without me, Jihoon. Three days and you’ve been completely undone and redone by this letter.”

“Letters are powerful things.” He muttered. “They can break hearts, mend souls, and change lives. You taught me that.”

“I guess I’m a pretty good teacher.” You boasted, giving him a squeeze. “Despite the fact that I’m actually quite terrible with words.”

He shrugged off your arm. “Except you always know what to say, how exactly does that work?”

“Just because I can make you see reason doesn’t mean I’m good with words.” You laughed easily. “That simply means that I’ve perfected the art of understanding the impossible. Lee Jihoon. I can’t use words like you do. Trust me I’ve tried, I can never get the words right.”

For a moment, he didn’t have any sort of response. Which was definitely weird. It was a well-known fact that he was terrible with the sorts of words he had to speak, but he didn’t have issues when talking to you. That’s because you were friends, best friends. There had never been this sort of unnerving silence before. Not that you could remember, anyway.

What is going on in your head, Jihoon? You found yourself wondering since you couldn’t read his face. Have you started to figure it out?

“Sorry, I was thinking.” He muttered suddenly, shaking his head. “But I know what I need to write now. Will you read this one too? Even if it gets pretty long?”

“Of course!” You exclaimed with a smile. “When have I ever shied away from a challenge?”

The soft glisten in his eyes made your heart flutter.

“Never.”

When the bell rang and you parted ways, you wondered if Jihoon had ever written you a letter.

Well there’s a first time for everything.

For the next week, he was in full writer mode. And there were no more notes from his secret admirer, not that you expected there to be any. Every chance he got he was scribbling something down on whatever surface he could get his hands on. Textbooks, paper, his arm, he was more inspired than you’d ever seen before and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t even come over to your house over the weekend, a ritual you hadn’t broken in the ten plus years you had known each other. It was a lonely week, for sure, but you knew it was for a good cause.

Then, after what felt like an eternity of silence, he approached you in the courtyard with a single sheet of paper in his hand.

“Hey…” He started uneasily, his grip tightening. “How’re you?”

Seriously? You mused to yourself with a smile. “I’m good, how’s the writing?”

“Done.” He clipped. “And—I think I covered everything.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, eyeing the sheet of paper. “With all of that writing I thought you’d have a novel for me.”

He shook his head, while a blush crawled up his neck. “Sometimes being concise is more effective than being overly wordy.”

“That’s true.” You grinned. “Easier for me to edit anyway.”

Nodding, he shoved the paper into your hand. “Here. Take your time, I don’t want you to rush it.”

“I won’t.” You promised, resisting the urge to start reading right away. “I know you put a lot of thought into this.”

With that, he turned around and walked off without another word. Leaving you holding something that looked like little more than pen ink on paper, but felt like a confession on fire. Once he was out of eyesight, you exhaled a breath you had been holding unintentionally and started reading.

To the person I have never loved before. It began, and you weren’t prepared for the roller coaster you had willingly climbed into.

This isn’t for the person I’ve loved all along, no. This is for you, someone who managed to stir my emotions more than a raging monsoon with only a few words and the hint of a promise. Who are you? I wondered to myself, because you were without equal. How could I have missed you? You were extraordinary. You didn’t have a face, all I had of you was a letter slipped into my locker, you were a ghost and I was set ablaze by your words. I had never felt like that before, my heart was unprepared. As was I. You made me question everything, and made me realize things I had never seen before.

What I felt for you wasn’t love, even though I thought it was at first. You presented me with feelings I decided I would never feel, so I could only assume that it was love. I felt like a live wire, ready to spark at a moment's notice. All I could think about was you. The infinite options and scenarios I dreamt up, all because of you, was astronomical. It was exhilarating, and I found myself drunk on the endless possibilities that you presented me. What else could make me feel that way, if it wasn’t love?

The answer was one I didn’t expect, and it hit me like a tsunami. I started to feel that way towards someone I already know. Someone who has cared for me more than anyone should, they have been my best friend for years so how could I suddenly feel the same way? How could my friendship for them become intertwined with the love I thought was solely reserved for you? And how could I have missed it after being enveloped by their warmth for so long?

You changed all of that. You made me see clearly for the first time in years and I was completely undone. Everything I knew was suddenly challenged, my feelings towards the most important person in my life changed without any warning, and I didn’t know what to do. How could I ask them, a friend, to see me as anything more? I was lost, trapped in an endless loop of destructive thoughts and desire. Desperately wanting to scream my feelings from the rooftop while fearing the voice that would have to put words to them. Your feelings for me awakened my feelings for them, and suddenly the words that have given me comfort for so long escaped me.

Still, you helped me.

In ways I can only thank with this letter.

You helped me because you are the one who told me to start writing letters. It’s always been you. You are the one who has given my thoughts meaning when I struggled to communicate with the world. One that could never understand someone like me. You are the one who wrote me a letter, asking a coward to help you be brave. It took me a while to realize that you were one and the same, but I picked up on the hints you left behind. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out.

Would you have showed up had I not asked you to come with me? I think about that often, were you only afraid because my initial thought was that there was no way it could be you? The impossible notion that my best friend could love me anymore than they already do? I have a thousand more questions I want to ask you, but I think I’m brave enough now to ask you in person.

So I’m going to end this letter here, because you deserve so much more than the words I’ve hidden behind for years. A letter I started to write for someone I thought I didn’t know, to the person I’ve never loved before. Funny, how it ended up being a letter to the person I’ve loved all along.

As you read the last line, tears already streaming down your face, you had never felt happier.

“You figured it out.” You whispered, almost in disbelief. “For a second there I thought you never would.”

You don’t know when Jihoon came back, but he was suddenly standing in front of you taking your hand in his. “It really shouldn’t have taken me that long, I’ve only seen your handwriting a thousand times before.”

Laughter bubbled past your lips as you dried your tears with your sleeve. “I was terrified that you would’ve figured me out from the very beginning. Looks like I really give you too much credit sometimes.”

“You do.” He agreed. “So, what did you think of the letter? Any edits you can think of?”

“This isn’t the type of letter that needs editing.” You stated plainly. “It would take away from the author’s meaning.”

“What would that be?” He asked, clearly teasing you. “Enlighten me.”

You shook your head defiantly. “No, no way. It’s your letter, why don’t you tell me what it’s supposed to mean?”

Part of him didn’t want to make it easy, that much you knew with absolute certainty. But, for the sake of time and your poor heart, he would let you off the hook. Just this once.

“That I love you.” He said softly. “More than anything else.”

Choking out a sob, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in close.

“I love you too, Jihoon.”

In the end, neither of you were good with words, but you only needed to know what to say to each other.

106 notes · View notes

meat--grindr · 3 years

Note

Ohh your writing is wonderful... I’ve actually never requested before so I hope get this right but: could I request Billy Lenz x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB if it’s brought up) with Billy sucking on his partner’s fingers and discovering they are really, /really/ into it but also super embarrassed about it? Bastard-ness ensues. Hope this request is ok!

Okay? This is waaay more than okay! I’ve been so excited about this prompt since I received it! I’m so sorry for not getting to it earlier. I hope like six months later is better than never though! I’m also super excited to be your first request! I hope this lives up to your expectations, whatever they may have been!

Just a few general warnings beforehand: Billy is really rough with the reader he uses some extremely degrading language as per the canon (I’ve excluded the term ‘piggy,’ though, because I am NOT A FAN™ of that aspect of his dirty talk.) I want to specifically call to attention the liberal use of the terms ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt.’ The reader is never gendered with personal pronouns, but those words are used in reference to them and their anatomy several times. I am of the opinion that Mr. Lenz would use those terms regardless of what hole he’s using, but if they make you uncomfortable, maybe give this one a miss? Furthermore, I would like to mention that Billy is not a mentally well man (obviously) who has had a rather traumatic past with abuse, both of these are discussed within this fic, so please take care of yourselves and read this work responsibly if you want to read it at all. I don’t want anyone to be hurt by my writing because I didn’t warn them properly.

Also, this is my first time writing for Billy, so please forgive me if it takes a little while for me to get completely used to him. He’s a…unique fella, let’s say.

Editing Ripper’s Note: I was just about to post this when I realized I completely misread the prompt! I read it as the reader is really into sucking on Billy’s fingers, not the other way ‘round! I’ve been looking at this prompt, literally since December and still never caught on. I feel like a total idiot. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve decided to post this anyway because A) the kink is still there in the fic, just not exactly as requested, and B) I had already finished it by the time I noticed my mistake. So much time has passed and if the original requester is still keeping tabs on this blog, I don’t want to make them wait any longer. That being said, if you’d like me to write your request properly, please send me a message and I will do my best!

Mind Your Teeth – Billy Lenz (Gender Neutral* Reader) - NSFW

· Slick with sweat, your chest slides against the surface of your desk with each cruel snap of Billy’s hips. You can feel the laboured heaving of his chest against your back as he struggles for breath. It leaves his lips in ragged, staggering puffs, heavy and hot against your shoulder blade, accompanied every so often by the slick warmth of his saliva as it drips down onto your bare skin.

· Despite his gawky build, he manages to loom over you, folding you nearly in half against the desk. He’s made himself rather comfortable, sprawled over top of you. His chest presses against your back, boney ribs grinding against the knobs of your spine through the stiff, itchy fibers of his jumper. It’s sticking to your skin, soaked through in spots with sweat—yours and his—and you can feel it peeling up from your flesh with every movement he makes.

· He’s got you pinned, holding you down against the smooth wooden surface with little more than his weight. He’s surprisingly heavy, and though he doesn’t look it, Billy is a strong man—he’s more than capable both of lifting you off of the floor and pinning you down to it. He’s strong and his hands are by no means an exception to that rule. Though they may be long and thin, and they tremble whenever they hold you, his grip is nearly unbreakable. His clumsy fingers circle your wrists like iron fetters, dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of your forearms and cutting little crescents into the skin—just deep enough to sting. You can barely move beneath him—can barely breathe—and he knows this. He has you exactly where he wants you and you’re not going anywhere until he decides to let you.

· Another bruising thrust pitches you forward, and your knees bang against the desk drawers. You cry out, though whether it was for the dull ache in your legs or the sudden stab of pleasure between them, even you couldn’t say for certain. Though if there is any concern at all in Billy for your wellbeing, he’s certainly keeping it to himself. Your outburst only seems to egg him on, as his pace begins to take on a more frantic edge.

· His thrusts are shallow as he rocks into you—it’s as though he can’t bare to withdraw from the tight heat of your body for long. Dimly, through the fog of pleasure, you struggle to feel surprised. It’s all about instant gratification with Billy. Always has been—why should he tease himself or draw things out when he could just pry open your willing mouth and drag his cock against your tongue until he cums down your throat? Still, there is a force behind those thrusts—one which throws you up against the lip of the desk hard enough that you’re sure there will be a solid line of bruising along your midsection before the night is through. Every push of those hips shoves you forward a little more, until your head is nearly knocking against the wall and your toes barely touch the ground.

· Your cheek slides against a slick patch of wood and you realize you’ve been drooling across the desktop. The little puddle at the corner of your lips only grows in size as a particularly deep thrust from Billy wrings another string of wrecked whimpers from your throat. You wish you could pull away from the puddle—longing to drag the back of your hand across your cheek and wipe away the slickness, but there’s little you can do about it with Billy still holding your arms hostage. But at the same time, something about it thrills you—to be ruined like this—held still, unable to so anything but whimper, and drool, and take what you’re given. It’s…liberating.

· “C’mon, little bitch! Take my fat cock! You can t-t-take it better than that! Take it! Take-Take-Take it good for B-B-Billy!” He babbles into your shoulder, chapped lips scraping against your shoulder as he mouths at your flushed skin. His tongue flickers out, dragging a wet stripe against your skin, scorching hot, then suddenly too cool as it begins to dry in the open air.

· “Such a pretty pusssssy,” He slurs, “Pretty, pretty pusssssy. Gonna fill it up—gonna fill it with my fat ffffffucking cock!”

· You feel him jerk behind you, his muscles going taught as a violent spasm rolls through his body. When he speaks again, the voice that comes is not his own—it’s deeper, rumbling down in his chest, belonging to a man much larger than he, “Why I outta beat that boy! Beat him up good! Beat Billy bad! Beat him good! Beat him up, up, up!”

· His hips still and your heart leaps up into your throat, your pulse pounding hard in the tight space. This can’t be good. You squirm beneath him, trying and failing to turn your head. Your eyes roll wild in their sockets, desperate to get a good look at Billy, but he remains a shadow at the edge of your vision. You remember this voice. He had so many it was difficult to keep track of them sometimes—he’d mimic almost anything he heard; the children from down the road calling to one another while they played, the weatherman making predictions on the radio, even the neighbour’s cat. It was easy to forget which voices and phrases came from where once he’d picked them up and used them enough. But this is one that predates you, and you recognize it with a chilling clarity—the father’s voice: always angry, often violent.

· It frightens you when Billy uses it, though not because of the threat Billy poses to you. Of course, you know to tread carefully when he's in one of his moods—you’ve seen first hand the destruction wrought when his directionless frustration is given direction. But, you know this voice is a far more likely indicator that Billy is an imminent threat to himself. You’ve seen him pacing the floor like a caged animal, trembling hands beating about his head, tearing at his clothes and hair as he works through the frenzy, all the while babbling to himself in that deep, rumbling voice: “Rotten boy! Teach you a fucking lesson! Beat Billy! Bad Billy! Bad, Bad, Bad!” He's blackened his eyes, split his lips and knuckles, shattered countless plates and cut his hands on the shards. He loses himself in that voice, and that scares you.

· ‘Losing himself,’ that’s what you’ve come to call these episodes—those moments when his excitement and boundless energy curdle, souring into anxiety and agitation so quickly it makes you head spin. And in this moment, he’s displaying all the tell-tale sighs you’ve come to recognize—the full-body tremors, the angry voices, self-directed violence—mere threats or otherwise…

· No, this is not good. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him do this, and you’re sure it would not be the last, but he’s never done it while you were…playing before. And that worries you. You’re both vulnerable, half-undressed and bent over a desk. Even worse, he was behind you. You’d learned very quickly never to let him out of your sight when he got like this. He was unpredictable—prone to lashing out whether he meant to or not. But he wasn’t beyond helping. If you could just turn your head and look at him—make him see you, help him to ground himself like you practiced, you might be able to talk him down, or at least ease him through the worst of it. Maybe. If you could only get a look at him.

· You flounder for your voice and struggle to keep it steady once you find it, “Hey, B-Billy? Billy, baby, you’re okay, right?” It’s an innocent question you usually begin with when he gets like this. Sometimes he’s too worked up to even begin to answer you, sometimes he tries so damn hard to answer, but can’t—not in a way you could really understand anyhow—and sometimes you can talk it through with him. Every time you try, the reaction is different. You can only cross your fingers and pray for a positive outcome.

· This time, he coughs. It’s a horrible, a horrible, racking sound that echoes in his chest—it’s almost closer to a scream than anything else. Another spasm jitters through him, the joint in his neck snapping loud in the darkness. You feel his forehead collide with your shoulder once, twice, then he stills. His flesh is clammy against yours, and the gentle brush of his hair makes your skin prickle, but he seems calmer. He barks a laugh—his own this time—and nuzzles against your back, smearing your skin with sweat and saliva. “Fuck!” He says, as though that explains everything.

· “Billy? Are you…alright?”

· He chirps like bird, three short bursts of whistling he’d picked up last spring when a robin mad made a nest on your windowsill, “Right as rain, rain, rain!”

· You’re left with a heady rush of confusion and relief as you realize he must have pulled himself out of the hole he’d almost fallen into. A little flicker of pride sparks to life in your chest. He’s come so far.

· Your concern melts away once again into pleasure as Billy jerks his hips. Keening high in the back of his throat, he fucks himself deeper into you. He drags his cock out slow, sounding for all the world as though he’d forgotten just how good it felt to fuck you—as though he hadn’t been doing just that not sixty seconds ago. He scrapes his teeth against your shoulder, the promise of a bite that will surely come and mark you for days. His fingers flex around your wrists, blunt nails biting deeper into your flesh as he falls back into that brutal rhythm.

· Your legs begin to shake as Billy’s cock bumps up against something a bit more sensitive inside of you. Your breath fogs against the surface of the desk as it heaves from your lungs, a thin mist that barely has the time to fade before the next heavy puff of air replaces it. You find yourself struggling to swallow the moans Billy’s working so hard to pull from you. You know how much he likes to hear you—how wild it makes him—and you know there’s no real need to be quiet, not with the dorm cleared out for the long weekend. Still, something—be it a force of habit from living in close quarters with thin walls, or simply your own embarrassment—keeps you quiet.

· “Fiiiilthy whore!” A growl, caught low in his throat, tears through the air between you, “Pretty pussy! Want it full! My cock, my cum…gonna fill it full!” Never at a loss for a string of vulgarities, Billy mumbles against your skin, his words slurring into one another until you can barely decipher one though from the other.

· “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!” Billy jerks his hips forward, and for the first time this evening, you feel the full length of his cock stretching you out. You jerk beneath him, mewling into the desktop, squirming about as you try desperately to relax around him. You’re so full—so full you can barely breathe, but it feels so good. Your muscles contract around him, unbidden, throbbing with the sudden stretch. It makes him shudder and sigh above you, a wavering rush of air than hisses out between his teeth.

· He holds you there for a moment, trembling almost as much as you are, “Tight fffucking cunt, so fucking tiiight for Billy!” His hips stutter forward in time with his ragged breathing. Desperately, he tries to fuck himself deeper into you, even though he can’t—he’s already buried to the hilt, his hips tucked snugly against your ass. But he gives it the old college try anyhow. He begins to babble nonsensically against your neck, “Ruin it, ruin it! Never take another cock! Full, full, full! I left it in the kitchen, Jan! Not after Billy’s! A low pressure system moving in and—fuck you full, fuck you full, full, full!”

· The tops of his thighs quiver as he grinds into you, and as he shifts, the head of his cock presses against something. For a moment, your vision goes white. Your legs seem to fall away beneath you, your knees drifting south as the pleasure carries away their ability to hold you upright any longer. If it weren’t for the desk, you probably would have slid down into a boneless heap on the floor.

· You gasp, mouth gaping wide, pulling in a great, deep lungful of air. To call his name? To beg him for more? To put wordless voice to your pleasure? You aren’t sure. There is little room in your brain for thought beyond the need for more. Mercifully, Billy saves you from the struggle before you can waste too much energy on it.

· Almost as soon as he realizes your mouth is open, Billy shoves his fingers into your mouth. Two boney digits slide against your tongue, pressing and prodding against the slick muscle. The taste of dust and salt floods your mouth with the intrusion. You wrinkle your nose, and try to pull your head back, but Billy leans down into you, pressing you down further beneath his weight, grinding your ribs into the desktop.

· “No, no, no,” He chides, voice soft and light—almost cheerful. He spreads his fingers apart, rubbing over the hard bumps of your bottom teeth with a tenderness you rarely see in him. “Gotta make room,” His voice rumbles through you as he presses his lips against your flesh, “Gotta stretch it out for Billy, or he won’t fit!”

· He nuzzles his cheek against your shoulder, still rocking his hips into you, pressing against that spot that makes your brain fill with television static, “Billy’s gonna fuck your throat once he’s filled that pretty pussy!”

· Your lips are pulled taught as his fingers press against the walls of your mouth, testing its limits. “Soft and warm! Wanna fuck it! Fuck it deep!”

· His hips buck hard, shoving you another inch toward the wall. You can feel yourself drooling around his fingers—your saliva dripping down your chin in great rivulets and collecting beneath your cheek.

· His knuckles bump against the roof of your mouth as the pads of his fingers find the back of your tongue. You gag around them, struggling to breathe, but Billy just laughs and presses down harder.

· “Again,” His voice comes out in a ragged puff of breath, half-whisper, half-growl, rough as rock salt, “Pussy gets tight when it chokes.”

· You try to suck in a shocked breath, but you can’t manage it around his fingers. Your throat convulses around him as you struggle to breathe.

· You feel his cock pulse inside of you and he groans his pleasure long and low into the darkness, “Yesssss!”

· He rocks into you again, “No one fucks like Billy, huh?” He pulls back, his cock nearly slipping from your body entirely, then he slams his hips home again, “No one fucks you full like Billy can! No one! No one! No one!” The phrase becomes a litany, each sentence punctuated with a bruising snap of his hips. “Know why?” He drags his teeth along the edge of your shoulder blade, “Know why?” You can hear the grin in his voice, wide and sharp, “‘Cuz Billy fills you up from both ends!”

· You sob around Billy’s fingers, your eyes rolling back as he pushes them deeper into your mouth. If he keeps on like this, it won’t be long before you fall apart around him—you want to cum so desperately, you can hardly keep another thought in your brain. Your muscles clench up around him and he laughs, giggling to himself as he hooks his chin over your shoulder. He can feel how close you are.

· His tongue slides against the side of your face, leaving a thick, wet stripe across your cheekbone. His lips scratch rough against your jaw, “Pretty pussy’s gonna cum? Gonna cum all over Billy’s fat fucking cock? Yeah?” His simpering tone makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you nod. Another peal of sick laughter bubbles up in his throat, “You’re gonna cum and Billy’s not even trying! So dirty, dirty, dirty!”

· You whine around his fingers as he babbles on, “Billy could fuck you harder, but he doesn’t need to! Stupid, greedy pussy, silly fucking cunt can cum like this!” His teeth sink into your shoulder and the rest of his diatribe is lost to you. Even so, he continues to mumble filth against the skin caught between his teeth.

· The bite stings, bright and sharp, and you sob around him, clenching your jaw, your teeth digging into his fingers. Billy releases you with a hiss, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. You think for a moment you might have hurt him, but in mere seconds, he’s giggling to himself again. “Sharp, sharp teeth! No good. No, no good. Not for Billy’s cock. Gotta tear them out, make room for Billy!”

· Though you know the threat is mostly empty, the way Billy caresses your molars with the pad of his finger makes you a little nervous. You’re sure if he could get a good grip, he could easily ‘make room,’ and there was probably not much you could do to stop him. But he pulls his fingers back, retreating from the crushing press of your back teeth.

· He presses down against your tongue again, rubbing against the slick muscle fondly. “Need to practice! Greedy cunt needs to learn! Learn to suck Billy’s fat cock properly.” He snaps his hips, as though trying to remind you just how fat it really was—as though there was any change you could forget while it was rearranging your guts for you. “Gonna teach you to take it good!”

· Your eyes roll back at the thought. You can picture yourself kneeling under the desk, Billy draped over the chair, wild hair falling over his eyes as you try to take him all the way down to the base. He’d fuck your throat until your vision goes black, his fingers tangled deep in your hair, nails digging into your scalp. Your own fingers slide desperately between your thighs, chasing your release as he chases his own and god what you wouldn’t give to make the fantasy real—to feel the length of him in your mouth, the rough denim of his pants beneath your hands, the jerk and sting against your scalp as he tugs on your hair. Your cheeks hollow around Billy’s fingers, a pretty whine sitting high in the back of your throat.

· And Billy stops—stops moving, stops talking. He hovers above you, silent and still as a statue, barely breathing. A terrible moment of clarity washes over you and the embarrassment comes rolling in. There you were, still stretched out on Billy’s cock, barely moments away from an orgasm and you were already thinking about another? Were you really that desperate? Your cheeks burn hot against the cool wood of the desktop. Shame licks at the pit of your stomach—it wasn’t unlink Billy to think this way, he was always seeking the next shot of pleasure, but it wasn’t like you. As though it wasn’t bad enough to catch yourself thinking that way…for someone else to do it? It was mortifying…and maybe a little exciting too.

· Your stomach flips as Billy shifts behind you, the burgeoning stubble on his jaw scraping across your sensitive skin. Then you feel it, a smile spreading across his face—it’s a grin you’ve come to know well, all teeth and wide enough to make his jaw pop. Even without looking at him, you know you’re fucked.

· All at once, he lurches to life again, fucking his fingers hard into your mouth, in tandem with the harsh thrusts of his hips. A filthy string of gibberish falls from his lips as he pounds into you, “Greedy! Greedy cunt! Want it in your mouth too? Filthy, greedy fucking whore!”

· You whine, and choke, and sob around Billy’s fingers. Your face is wet with sweat, with spit, with tears, you can’t tell and at this point, you’re far beyond the point of caring. The world has narrowed to a single point between your legs as you teeter on the knife’s edge of your release. You rock your hips back against Billy, meeting his thrusts, desperate for more. You’re so, so close, and Billy can feel it too—the way you tighten around him spurring his pace from wild to frantic.

· His voice is broken, his words panted out between jagged breaths and garbled moans, “Gonna be good for Billy? Gonna cum?” His face is buried in the crook of your neck. He giggles against your flesh as he splits you open, slamming into you like it’s the last fuck he’ll ever have. “C’mon, take what Billy gives you! Take it, take it, t—ta—fuuuck!”

· Your hips stutter as your orgasm throbs through you. You scream around his fingers as you cum, your muscles clamping down around Billy so hard he almost has to stop moving, rolling his hips forward quick and shallow. His howl is lost in the sound of blood rushing in your ears, but you can feel it vibrating through his chest, and down into your back. Your fingers scrabble at the wood beneath you, desperate for something to latch onto—to keep you grounded here as the pleasure threatens to carry you away.

· You sob and slump limp against the desk, letting it bear the brunt of your weight. There’s just no strength left in your body anymore. Your hands and feet tingle with the lingering aftershocks of the adrenaline as you begin to come down from your high, and your breath comes hard, as though you’ve run a great distance. Billy’s hips continue to snap against yours, brutal and quick. You sob into his fingers, the as the relentless pleasure sparks through you, nearly painful to your sparking nerves.

· Slowly, as your ears stop ringing, you realize Billy is still talking, babbling away in several voices. “Like your pussy tight like this. Wanna fuck you full while you cum again and again and again and I told you, Jan, I left it in the kitchen! Make you soaked, keep you soaking wet, make you fucking cry! Where is that cat? Where’s that cat? Where’s the…WHERE’S THE BABY, BILLY?! AGNES? WHERE’S AGNES, BILLY?! Beat that kid! Teach him a lesson! BEAT HIM UP GOOD!”

· His left hand shoots up from your arm and wraps around your throat, fingers flexing around your windpipe, not quite squeezing, yet, but the pressure is far from comfortable.

· “T-T-Teach rotten old Billy a lesson.” A spike of fear shoots through you and you choke around his fingers. This seems to bring his mind back, at least in part, to the present, or at least confuse him enough to serve as a distraction—he makes a noise caught between two voices. The fear that courses through you lends new strength to your limbs as you reach up and claw at his fingers.

· As you attempt to pry him lose, his grip only tightens, fingers locking around your windpipe, “Teach that boy a FUCKING lesson!” The knobby joints of his fingers press hard against the pulse in your throat and you’re sure he can feel it hammering beneath your skin. He’s losing himself again, you’re sure.

· But again, this time was different. He hadn’t stopped fucking his cock into you like he had before, and he’d wavered for a moment, when you’d choked on him. There might be something else you could do to help him. Desperate to keep him here with you in the present moment, you flex your tongue against his fingers. His hips stutter and your heart skips a beat in turn. “Filthy fucking c-c-cunt…”

· You bob your head, hollowing your cheeks around his fingers again. C’mon, Billy!

· “F-Fuck!” It’s not quite his voice, but it’s close, perhaps a little higher, a little more strained than usual, but it’s close. “Where’s the baby, Billy? Where’s the…c-c-cat gone to now?” His fingers begin to relax around your throat, but you keep sucking on his fingers, wanting to make sure you’re well and truly out of the woods before you even think about stopping. If this is going to work, you’re going to make damn sure of it.

· “Fucking greedy little cunt!” You could have cried with relief at the sound of his voice—his real voice. You hum around his fingers, and he laughs, the sound low and rumbly, “Still so fucking eager.” His hips buck forward, pressing deep inside of you. It’s still too much, too soon, and you sob with the overstimulation. The sudden spike of pleasure punches the air from your lungs and shakes your legs from underneath you.

· Billy groans as you pulse around him. “You want Billy to cum? Wand Billy to fucking fill you?” You nod frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he grinds into that spot, filling your vision with white hot splotches of light.

· “Suck his cock, then,” he says, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth again. He spreads them wide, nearly matching the girth of his cock where it fucks you open. Billy jitters behind you, chasing his release with quick, cruel thrusts. Impatient as always, he pushes digs his nail into the wall of your cheek, “Fucking suck Billy’s cock!”

· You jerk into motion as though startled from a deep sleep, pressing your head down against his fingers to take them as deep as you could. Your tongue laves against the digits, prodding gently against his scarred knuckles, playing in the space between them.

· Billy throws his head back, moaning to the ceiling long and loud, “Yessss! Good little pet! Pretty, pretty pet! His fingers stroke your throat as though he’s petting a cat, feeling it work up and down as you swallow around him. “Gooood pet! Suck Billy’s cock! Suck his cock! Su—NO!”

· Suddenly, he stops, his fingers stilling. For a moment, you think you’ve done something wrong. Had your teeth caught against him? Had you hurt him? Should you pull back and ask, or carry on? Before you can make a decision one way or another, Billy thrusts his fingers back into your throat, pressing them in as deep as he could. His knuckles bump against your back molars as you gag around him, trying desperately to breathe through your nose.

· “Lick Billy’s cunt,” For a moment, you’re still, confusion slicing through the pleasure. Billy tries to press his hand forward, his fingertips brushing against the back of your throat, “Lick it! Lick Billy’s cunt! Lick it! Lick it! Tongue his fffffucking clit!” You think about it for a moment, your exhausted, lust-fogged brain struggling to put two and two together, and then suddenly you think you understand. As gingerly as you can, while Billy continues to rock you forward over the desk, you press your tongue against the soft spot between his knuckles.

· This must have been what he’d wanted because the sound he makes is like nothing you’ve ever heard before—a wail caught somewhere between human and animal. You’ve never heard a human sound like that before. Like so many things about Billy, it’s frightening, and yet it fascinates you, attracts you, arouses you. You press your tongue harder against that spot, and the frantic rocking of his hips picks up again—but this time there’s no rhythm to it. He’s close.

· “Fucking lick Billy’s clit, make him cum! Make him cum in your pretty pussy!” You lap at his flesh with quick, deliberate swipes of your tongue. He howls against your flesh, his forehead thudding against your shoulder heavy and hard. “Fuck, f-f-f-fuck, make Billy fucking cum! Billy’s gonna, he’s-he’s-he’s gonna—!”

· In the moment before he cums everything is calm. He stills, and his voice is soft and steady in your ear; “I’m going to ruin you.”

· Then the world falls back into chaos.

· His whole body shudders above you, a bag of jangling bones he couldn’t keep control of if his life had depended on it. His teeth fix themselves deep into your shoulder, slotting into the indentations they’d left not long before. You cry out around his fingers, sure he’s drawn blood this time. You can see it when you close your eyes, visions of thick red blood splattered against his dark incisors floating against the dark inside of your eyelids.

· He shudders, momentarily stilling, then kicking back into motion, seemingly unable to deicide if he’d rather pound you through his orgasm or remain still, buried to the hilt in your tight heat. You feel the heat of him inside of you pulsing against your walls as he cums. His cheek is pressed tight against your shoulder gibbering a collection nonsensical sounds and snatches of obscenities into your flesh, “Pretty pink cunt! ah, ahhhh, fuuh—fuuuh—fuck! Dripping now! Where did you leave it? Left it fucking dripping!"

· You’re sore beyond belief from the pounding you’ve taken, but there’s still a throbbing want underneath. He’d dragged you most of the way to a second orgasm, now all you needed was a little push. Before you were completely at is mercy, able only to receive the pleasure he decided to give you. But now, your hands were free and with them you could do as you pleased. You wriggle beneath him, slipping your hands down between your thighs.

· Your fingers find their prize, and you sob, your whole body jerking forward. Even though you’d cum mere moments ago, you can’t believe how sensitive you are. You’re on the verge of orgasm almost immediately. You press harder the slide of your fingers aided both Billy’s cum and your own. You shudder, whimpering around his fingers. Your muscles clamp down on him once again, throbbing and pulsing as your orgasm builds.

· He hooks his finger inside of your cheek and pulls, “Wanna cum again. Wanna cum in your mouth,” He pulls harder exposing the sides of your teeth, “Billy wants to feel them! Feel them on his cock! Sharp and hard.” He laughs, “But Billy likes it hard.” The harsh snap of his hips that follows has you seeing spots. He opens his mouth as though to gloat, as you clench around him, he loses his words. Whimpering, soft and broken sounds against your neck, he grinds into you.

· Seconds later, you clamp down around him, a second orgasm shooting through you. The sound he makes as you cum on his oversensitive cock is nothing short of feral. He bucks wildly into you, seeking more of a pleasure that sounds almost painful as he sobs into your shoulder. His cock pulses inside of you again, throbbing as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you, as though intent on giving you more.

· And you’re sure he would. Or he would have, if you hadn’t reached back and pushed against his shoulder. He was insatiable—he’d keep going for hours unless you stop him now.

· He pulls his fingers out first, a pearly string of saliva connecting your lips to his fingertips. You cough, scratchy and wet, but when you speak, there’s no pain. “I…I just need a little break, Bills. Okay?” Your chest is heaving as you struggle for air. Billy hums above you, hesitating for a moment. He’s reluctant to give up the tight heat of your body. But at last, after nearly a full minute of grumbling and mumbling to himself, he pulls out.

· There's a sticky gush of fluids against your thigh as his cum beings to leak out of you. You rest there for a moment, the pair of you breathing hard in the darkness, the comfortable weight of his body pressing down above you, the solid plane of the desktop below. Then all of a sudden, you’re being lifted up. You squeal in shock as your flipped about and placed atop the desk. The surface is still cool against your heated flesh. The difference in temperature is a shock to your system and goosebumps break out across your arms and legs.

· Before you have a moment to process what’s happening, Billy’s head is between your thighs, his tongue lapping at mess he’d made. Your eyes go wide, and you head knocks against a wall as it falls back, “Fuuuuck, Billy!” Your hips cant up against his face, thighs squeezing tight around his ears.

· “Pretty pussy came twice already,” You can feel him smirking against your inner thigh. “Still wants more? Greedy, greedy, greedy.” You catch a glimpse of his eyes, wide and wild, shining in the darkness beneath is tangled hair, “It’s okay, Billy likes you greedy.”

#billy lenz x reader #billy lenz x you #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #ripper fics #hey everyone!#i really hope i caught all the errors #if not you didn't see them-i'll get them soon enough #please enjoy and my apologies again for getting the prompt wrong

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loveofafangirl · 3 years

Photo

72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field. *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it.

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N.

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him.

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed."

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out.

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble.

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years."

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch.

65 hours.

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower.

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected.

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true.

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you.

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips.

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be.

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead.

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt.

57 hours.

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you.

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you.

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy."

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks.

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why.

51 hours.

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed.

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you."

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately.

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic.

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world.

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for.

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it.

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand.

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him.

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?"

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself.

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too.

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not."

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite; @fandomxreaders ; @moonstuffsteve

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail ; @killsandthrills ; @noavengers ; @nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney ; @willowtheewisp ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo fan fiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #zemo #zemo x you #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl

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flareish · 3 years

Text

Overwhelmed

kuroo x reader

summary: With so many deadlines coming up the reader is overwhelm and buried in work and can’t help but to lash out. However, Kuroo is always there to pull her back

genre: college AU, fluff, pinch of angst

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none I think

a/n: I have been trying to make all of my requests gender neutral but sometimes I slip up and throw in she/her pronouns so tell me if you notice any that I didn’t catch. Enjoy!

The teachers were out to get you, you were sure of it. You push yourself every day to be the best, to be ahead of everything, all the assignments, all of your classmates just so you could possibly enjoy college as well as have good grades. But what did that get you? Impossibly high expectations. Suddenly everyone around you expected you to ace every test you did and just pull perfect essays out of nowhere. Which is exactly what just happened. You had been working on an essay all night. It hadn’t been your best work but your brain just couldn’t make anything better. That was all you had. You were almost at your limit with no end in sight. Then, despite all your hard work, your teacher handed it back to you saying that “this wasn’t the best I could do and that I shouldn’t start slacking off now”. She thought she was being helpful but right now you wanted to do was strangle her. Sure you could do better. If you didn’t have eight more assignments to do after this. Each one more mentally taxing than the next. But it’s fine, let me just rewrite this essay.

Why couldn’t you just be the kind of person who didn’t care? Or rather had given up caring. They probably learned their lesson that when you try you don’t get the reward you get more work. Why couldn’t you just not care too?

Deciding to jump back into your workload, you sit down at your desk in your dorm and begin to type. Words were kind of flowing. They weren’t exactly coherent thoughts but at least it was something to work with. As if your day couldn’t get any worse, your roommate comes barging in with three of their friends.

“Oh oops didn’t realize you were studying in here Y/N.” Your roommate said, not actually making an effort to be any quieter though. Shooting back a quick tight smile, not wanting to be rude but also just wanting them to leave. You were hoping they were just grabbing something and then would leave but they went and sat on the bed and turned the TV on.

You made a show of checking the time before loudly announcing that you were suppose to meet someone at the library. As much as you wanted to be petty and make them feel guilty for interrupting your study time, it was just easier to just leave.

“I don’t think I’ve seen them do anything except study. Talk about too school for cool.” You heard one of them joke as you left.

“Ugh tell me about it. You wouldn’t believe what time they goes to bed.” Your roommate adds. You roll your eyes and trying to ignore the comments. Is it really that crazy that you’re actually trying to learn at a place where you pay crazy amounts to be taught? You were just so done.

Luckily the library was fairly quiet since it had gotten quite late. You settled into your favorite spot and got to working. Although no matter how hard you tried nothing came to you. There was one sad paragraph on your screen, you must have reread it a million times hoping to spark some kind of inspiration from it. Nothing. Your brain kept drifting off on you and you would end up staring across the library without a single thought in your head. The time just kept slipping by. The more that went the more panicky you got. This was a time that you should be working but you just couldn’t. And of course the more desperate you got for inspiration, the more it avoided you.

You just let your head drop and hit the table. You were so done. You just wanted to scream. There was no one you could talk to either. Recently anyone that talked to you got snapped at. They were just all so calm and relaxed despite all of the work that has been coming in lately. Here you were, drowning in it, and they were happily swimming. Just the other day you and Kuroo had an argument over homework. He’s taking one of the hardest chemistry classes and he was there telling you it was going to be okay?! It just felt insulting. You knew he didn’t mean it like that but couldn’t he at least pretend to struggle? Damn you boyfriend for being so smart.

You really wanted Kuroo right now.

As if summoned by your thoughts, you felt hands slide onto your shoulders. You tense up kinda freaked out at who is touching you until you see that it’s him. Kuroo. For a moment you wanted to just throw yourself at him and forget about your homework. But then you remember your argument and how you’ve been a monster lately and resist. He’s having none of that though and keeps his hands on you.

“How long have you been here.” He asks gently. You glance at your computer and notice that it’s almost 3 am.

“What are you doing here?! It’s 3 am.” You say startled at the fact it had gotten that late and that he was also up that late. Usually, he is asleep by ten.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He replies as he straightens and starts packing up your things.

“Uh- Hey! Wait no- give me that! I’m not done yet.” You try and snatch back your stuff but he gives you a stern look and you sink back into your seat. You suddenly realize how tired you are and surrender. He’s finished putting everything away and throws the strap of your back over his shoulder. Prepared to carry your bag for you. Now you feel drained. Your limbs all feel heavy that it’s exhausting to even think about getting up.

“Come on let’s get you back to your dorm.” He mumbles pulling you up by your hand. You let him, flying up from your seat and onto your feet. You land right in his chest and you don’t want to go anywhere but here. For the first time in weeks, you feel calm and secure.

“Can I just stay here for a minute,” Your voice cracks as tears slip down your face. He didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close to his body. In this moment you felt nothing but love. The relief and comfort you felt was enough to make you cry harder. You don’t know how long you were stood there but no matter how long it was Kuroo never once rushed you. He just let you let it out. Once he saw that you had calmed down he gently pull back, bringing a hand to your cheek to wipe away any stray tears.

“You ready to head back now?” He asked again, planning on walking you back to your dorm.

“I don’t wanna,” You pout, “There’s a ton of people in there and I don’t wanna see any of them.” You are still salty at your roommate and their rude friends.

“Do you want to come to my dorm?” He asks, “Kenma was passed out when I left so it should be quiet.” You nod. You feel him put your backpack on you and you’re confused. You were kind of hoping he would take your backpack for you. You know be a gentleman and all. Then he squats down in front of you.

“Hop on.” This was pretty normal for the two of you so despite your sleepiness you bounce up onto his back. He adjusts you higher on his back before leaving the library. Waving to library worker on the late shift who giggled at the two of you.

You snuggled your face into his neck and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck. His footsteps seemed to lull you like a lullaby. You fell into a weird state as your body sleeping but your mind was awake. Hearing everything clear as day but the thought of opening your eyes or moving a muscle seeming impossible.

You start waking up more when you realize that you have made it to his dorm, letting him toss you down on the bed. You throw your backpack off to the side and head straight for under the covers.

“Ah ah! You’re in dirty clothes,” he gently complains, no real bite behind it. You grumble but let him pull you over to the edge of the bed. You had been so close to sleep. He slides your shirt over your head and replaces it with one of his hoodies. Only then once you’re in his clean clothes does he let you snuggle back into his bed. This time with him in there as well.

“Goodnight my love.” You finally slip into a peaceful state. You still had a lot of work to do but at least for tonight you will rest without worry. Tomorrow you know you need to make up with Kuroo but you know he could never stay mad at you. Come the morning you know Kuroo will help you with everything. He’s finished giving you space, now you’re stuck with him.

#Kuroo #tetsuro kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #haikyuu #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu captains #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #nekoma #nekoma x reader #nekoma imagines #nekoma fluff #nekoma oneshot

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gleamglows · 3 years

Note

How about Sirius finding out the reader has a crush on him...and gives her her first kiss? 😘

cigarettes and firewhisky

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: amortentia is no fun to make when you’re partnered up with the person you know it’s going to end up smelling like.

content: fluff, me being bad at writing slughorn, very brief mention of sirius’s family issues, confessions in an empty classroom, kissing but nothing spicy (edit: rereading this i realized i made the reader pretty gender neutral! no pronouns or anything like that :)

you know i had to pull the amortentia trope. this was a cute request, thank you so much! also thank you to my anons who sent in what they thought sirius smelled like, you guys were a lot of help! (except the person who suggested that sirius smells like wet dog. you know who you are.)

This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Surely some higher power was laughing at you from above, taunting you and your dreadful luck.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. How on earth did you end up being paired up with Sirius Black of all people?! And - even worse - making the worst potion ever concocted?!

If you weren’t in public you’re sure you’d be letting out a crazed laugh out of pure mania.

So far you’ve been able to dodge all of his attempts at conversation, quickly sending him off to find another ingredient as soon as he got too chatty. You’d hardly made any eye contact at all, and any time he handed you something you were careful not to have his fingertips even slightly graze your own.

In truth, you’ve had an enormous crush on Sirius Black since third year, and it had only gotten worse as the years went by. This meant that by now, you had become a bit of an expert at avoiding him at all costs.

But now it was all ruined. Years of hard work spiraling down the drain all because of fucking Amortentia.

Why couldn’t it have been a simple calming draught? Or a shrinking solution? Hell, you would’ve even preferred to make Slughorn his lunch!

And it’s not as if you can sabotage the potion, either! That would mean Sirius’s grade suffering too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

There was no way out but to lie about what the potion smells of if he asks. Simple! That way no one finds out - more importantly, that way Sirius doesn’t find out - about your silly little crush. Foolproof. Genius. Inspired-!

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You jolt as panic overtakes you, snapping your head up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” he repeats, smiling slightly. “I can’t help but feel like you hate me, seeing as you haven’t looked at me or talked to me at all.”

Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad you had misinterpreted the question.

“No! I-” Your voice is much too high, you stop to clear your throat. “I do! I do like you, I um... Sorry! I promise I don’t hate you, I guess I’m just... shy.” You finish your blabbering by looking away, pretending to inspect the fire below your cauldron.

When you raise your gaze again Sirius is still looking at you - observing you as if you’re an interesting puzzle that he can’t quite figure out.

“Um!” you quickly turn your attention to the potion, hoping he does the same. “Nearly done, right? Here.” You hold out the wooden spoon for him to take. “Five more clockwise stirs.”

He looks at the spoon but then folds his hands behind his back. “You do it,” he offers instead.

You purse your lips but nod anyway, bringing the wood up to the cauldron’s opening. The pearlescent liquid shifts under the spoon as it touches the surface, and once it’s fully submerged you take a deep breath and start stirring.

One... Two... Three... Four...

As soon as you finish the fifth stir your nose is assaulted by a suffocating aroma of cigarettes and firewhisky. You quickly step back, coughing and tossing the spoon on the table, but the scent follows you.

That doesn’t smell very appealing! Had you done something wrong? You could have sworn you’d followed the recipe exactly!

But then suddenly the scent changes, rapidly becoming much more welcoming. Cigarettes and firewhisky quickly turns into the undertone to something different... Cinnamon shampoo? But also... cologne, and... You could also catch the faint whiff of a brand new leather jacket.

“I think...” you start, eyes trained on the potion that now has delicate tendrils of steam coming off its surface. “I think we did it.” You laugh a bit in astonishment, proud of the fact that you’d managed to make such an advanced potion.

When you turn your head Sirius is looking at you again, in that infuriating way with his gorgeous eyes and stupid grin. You desperately want to look away but just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“How can you tell?” he asks quietly, and you suddenly feel everything else in the room slip away until it’s just him in front of you.

“I... It-”

“What’s it smell like?”

His low voice puts you in such a trance that for a moment you think you’re about to tell him the truth, but you quickly remember what you’d decided on earlier. Lie.

“Ban-” Bananas? No! “Bal-” Balloons? What would that even mean?! “Bu... bblegum. Bubblegum.” You finally land on, and then give a minuscule wince.

Bubblegum?! Although, you suppose it’s better than balloons...

“Bubblegum?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yep! And is that...? Oh! Firewood!” you continue, pulling lies out of thin air. Sirius’s furrowed brows fade away, and an amused smile starts to form on his features instead.

“And, um... And sun cream! Huh, weird.”

“Bubblegum, firewood, and sun cream?” Sirius lists, as if needing clarification from you.

“Well, I-”

“And look what we have here!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice is suddenly feet away from the two of you, standing right beside your cauldron. “I do believe we have our first finished brew of Amortentia! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr. Black,” Slughorn beams, giving Sirius a knowing look.

Sirius just shuffles awkwardly.

If Slughorn notices Sirius’s discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he continues, “You know, your father was an exceptional potion maker. Very talented indeed, and you and your brother seem to be following in his footsteps! Although I must say, young Regulus has been a bit unfocused lately, he-”

“Uh, professor?” you speak up when Sirius flinches at his brother’s name.

Slughorn blinks and then looks at you as if he’s just noticed you were there. “Oh- Yes?”

“So... The potion? Did we do it right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Full marks!” He waves you off, as if you were being silly for even asking. “And ten points for each of you!” he adds for good measure before strolling off, most likely to go torment some other student with a famous surname.

After that, Sirius doesn’t much seem to be up for talking anymore. He focuses all his attention on cleaning up your station, closing up jars of rose petals and pearl dust. You follow his lead, albeit a bit sluggishly.

A few minutes ago you would’ve been okay with Sirius’s silence - happy, even, if it meant you didn’t have to deal with your little crush. But now you would give anything to have him cheerful and smiling again - even if he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes.

Once class is over you’re quick to duck out of the room, desperately wanting to leave Slughorn and Amortentia and the smell of cigarettes and firewhisky behind you.

It’s all over now, everything went according to plan and you can finally go back to doing what you do best. Secretly pining after Sirius Black from a distance.

It’s safe. It’s what you’re good at.

You’re just about ready to forget about this day entirely when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

...Maybe you were hearing things.

You speed up your steps but then he calls your name again and you’re forced to slow down, waiting for him to catch up. When he does he gives you another winning smile and your heart does a flip.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, and you listen intently. “Sorry about uh... Just... Thanks.”

You’re a bit taken aback. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a ‘thank you’.

“I... For what?” you ask, genuinely perplexed, but trying not to sound rude.

“Getting Slughorn to leave,” he clarifies with a grin. “He’s always been the same... I’ve been dealing with that for seven years now.”

There’s laughter in his voice but you can tell it’s a bit frayed at the edges. He’s clearly trying - and failing - to play it off as no big deal.

“Sorry,” you offer lamely. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

It really doesn’t.

You don’t know much about Sirius’s family, but you know enough to understand that he probably doesn’t like to be constantly reminded of them. Sharing their last name and seeing his brother in the halls was probably more than enough.

“It’s fine. And, I didn’t just want to thank you,” he says quickly, realizing that the conversation had gotten gloomy.

“Oh?” you voice with a bit of a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask what it smelled like. The Amortentia.”

There goes your heart again. A million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?” you ask, laughing a bit. “I told you. Bubblegum and um...”

Shoot! What were the other two?!

“Firewood and sun cream?” Sirius prompts, and you nod frantically.

“Yep! That was it!” you’re quick to blurt out. Unconsciously, you pick up your pace, now traveling at a slight speed walk.

Sirius keeps up easily. “But you’re lying,” he accuses, pointing a finger at you, and you swear you start to sweat. “You started coughing when you finished stirring. What did you smell then?”

“I-! Well-! The bubblegum was very pungent, and I-”

“And it looked to me like you were just naming anything that came to your head. Were you about to say balloons at one point?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this, and quite frankly I- woah!”

You suddenly find that you’re being pulled somewhere by the elbow, and only when you hear a door close behind you do you realize that Sirius has dragged you into an empty classroom. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings, because Sirius is asking you again:

“So what did you smell?”

You consider lying again, but he’s staring at you with his big, pretty eyes, just waiting for you to tell the truth and all of a sudden you really, really want to.

You thought - you really thought - that you would be content to just go back to crushing on him from a safe distance, but then the Amortentia had happened and he had looked at you different. He was looking at you differently even now - eyes glittering, listening attentively for your answer. And suddenly pining from a distance doesn’t seem so appealing.

You groan in frustration, bringing both of your hands up to cover your face. You just can’t believe what this boy is doing to you.

“It’s so stupid,” you admit, feeling your cheeks head up beneath your palms.

“It’s not,” he assures you, gently wrapping both his hands around each of your wrists, silently asking you to stop covering your face.

You shake you head. “It is, and if you’re asking then you already know.”

“So humor me.”

You abruptly drop your hands to look up at him and, woah - had he always been that close? He’d definitely gotten a bit closer since you’d closed your eyes.

You let out a shaky breath. “Cigarette smoke... Firewhisky...” you trail off. You mean to keep going, but decide to wait for Sirius’s initial reaction first.

Sirius blinks. “Gross,” he says after a beat, and it startles a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, a bit. I thought we messed it up, but then... Um, it changed.”

You search his features for any signs of discomfort, but find none. In fact, Sirius seems to be basking in every word you tell him.

So you keep going, very quietly, “Cologne and...” Without thinking you bring a hand up to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Leather and... Cinnamon...”

You hand moves of it’s own volition, resting on the junction of Sirius’s shoulder and neck and you stare dazedly at it for a moment. You blink and then realize what you’re doing.

You pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned. “Sorry, I-”

But then Sirius is leaning forward fast and - Merlin, was he about to kiss you?!

You panic for a moment, knowing you have to think quick. Your hand darts up again, this time landing on his collarbone, putting your palm flat up against him and pressing firmly, willing him to stop.

He gets the message and quickly pulls back. “I’m sorry-”

“No!” you blurt out so fast that it sounds more like a squeak. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t... I mean I want to, I do I just...” You screw your eyes shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Fuck,” Sirius lets out a laugh.

Your heart sinks as you open your eyes. Was he laughing at you?

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quick, as if reading your mind. “For a second I thought the Amortentia was a big coincidence and you didn’t like me at all.” he smiles, and you realize his laugh was a laugh of relief.

“No! I-!” You groan again and lean against the closed door. Was it confession day or something?! “No, I’ve... I’ve liked you since third year.”

“What about first and second?” he fires back quick, grinning stupidly.

You don’t miss a beat. “I was scared of you, then. You were too loud.”

He barks out a laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to look away, feeling as if you’re intruding. And then you remember you’re not. It’s just you and Sirius here. So many times you’d seen that laugh from a distance, across a crowded Great Hall but now it was just for you.

Sirius speaks up once his laughter dies down. “Look, you don’t have to-”

“No, I want to-”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“You haven’t! I just-”

“We can just go to class-”

“Sirius!” you say sharply, and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Kiss me. Please,” you say with a laugh, wanting him to shut up already.

He grins and then wastes no time in leaning forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You smell it again - cinnamon shampoo, cologne, new leather, and - very faintly - cigarettes and firewhisky.

You melt into the kiss, bringing you hands up to rest at the nape of his neck, idly playing with the strands of hair you find. It’s awkward at first, but you try your best to relax into it, following Sirius’s lead and just doing whatever comes naturally.

He pulls away and you slowly blink your eyes back open, willing yourself out of the trance Sirius’s lips had just put you in.

“Fast learner,” he whispers, smiling, and you laugh.

“We should get to class...” you suggest halfheartedly, not stepping away or making any move to leave.

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Probably...”

You both look at each other for a few beats, but then you each break into a smile.

And he kisses you again.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

#requests #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black

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fallasleepscenarios · 3 years

Text

𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓶 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓽 [bakugo x reader]

type: one shot, angst, fluff pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader (gender not specified) summary: (Y/N) and Bakugo have not established their relationship, leaving (Y/N) to question their whole "friends with benefits" thing. And it all goes down to what happens when they attend Kirishima's party. rating: R for implication of sexual act word count: 2.4k disclaimer: I do not own any of the mha characters and all of them are written as if they are of age also posted on my wattpad one shots book

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

"You're so silly. Get your butt here."

Bakugo shrugs and pouts angrily but eventually lets his body fall on me and weighing me down on the couch as I try to lift him off me. I laugh at his silliness, knowing that this is the best way someone like him can show affection. He lets his guard down so rarely after all, doesn't even want to show softness, ever. Only with me he does. He can be mellow, can't express it in words easily though.

"Tsk, I don't want to go to the stupid party with all the stupid bastards", he growls while finally making himself comfortable without hurting me.

"You promised! Besides, everyone's waiting for you", I run my fingers through his hair, "You know how much Kirishima has been waiting to see you!" I could tell by his look at this was somehow enough for him to accept attending the party with me. All his UA classmates would be there.

"Whatever! I have to train." In a swift move he gets up and leaves the room, like he always does.

"Bakugo--! Wait!" he stops without turning to look at me. "D-Do you wanna spend the night?" I gulped.

"I have to train", he says and leaves.

And at times like these, I ask myself, what the hell am I really doing. Having a crush on Bakugo Katsuki? That's far enough. Establishing a relationship with him? That's so far beyond the line of sanity. More times than not, I question myself for any signs of emotional masochism, because this really doesn't feel like a mutual feeling. Yes, he can be soft and sweet, would never admit it, though. Yes, somehow, he does like me in a sexual way, at least, or maybe considers me as a way to relieve stress? The past three months and a half have been so exciting, and I've been.. happy. But..

This really isn't enough for me. If only I could do anything to make him say what's in his mind, 'cause his actions really really don't match with his words. And then again, well, whatever, never mind, it could all be way worse for me..

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

On the day of the party, Bakugo was supposed to pick me up at 8 and head over to Kirishima's together, since I've never been to his place before. I put extra effort on picking an outfit I like and felt pretty cute and confident in it. At 7:45 I was already by the door, tying my shoes and receiving a text message by Uraraka-chan.

[19:45] From: Uraraka-chan<3 I can't wait for tonight! Deku-kun will also be there, haven't seen him in two weeks! Don't be late Y/N :D

I smiled at myself and happiness overflew in me. Don't want to jinx it but tonight sounds ideal; Bakugo agreed to come, I'm going to see everyone, even Midoriya found time off his strict training schedule, and Uraraka-chan is very happy, as well, I am glad.

But as I waited for Bakugo, the clock turned 8. And then 5 minutes after 8. And then a quarter past 8.

Normally, that's acceptable, since when one is late, they probably have informed you beforehand. Or at least, an apology is waiting for you at their arrival. Oh, but when Bakugo arrived..

"What took you so long?!!" My mood, the outfit I wore that I liked, the excitement, all had disappeared.

"SO WHAT, I had training to do! Deku has been training all week!", he snapped back at me and frowned. "Let's go damn it!"

"You're unbelievable-! That's how you treat me?!" This time, I was not going to take it.

"Tsk, you don't understand"

"At least you could have told me you were at practice..! Not arrive, what, a quarter to 9 and not even apologizing for keeping me waiting?!"

"YOU attacked me right when I arrived, when I would I apologize?!"

I refrained from saying anything else. I didn't want to completely ruin my mood for the party.

"Okay, stop." I let out a sigh. "Let's go. I really want to enjoy the party. I even wore that outfit that it took me so long to come up with, I really wanna enjoy it.." I closed and locked the door behind us and Bakugo just stared at me.

The road to Kirishima's was quiet. I caught a few glimpses of Bakugo walking by me and leading the way. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything at all. We passed by the river, it was beautiful and I so wanted to comment on the cherry blossoms showing as the path alongside it.

I tried not to overthink about this but it was bothering me, that Bakugo didn't even consider my feelings. He stood me up. This definitely isn't what you expect of your partner to do. Details like this, how he never calls me just to talk to me, he never texts me "good morning" or "good night" like my friends' significant others do, how we've never really agreed to have a proper date but always meet up at home, eat inside and are secretive, I don't like that. I think I am the only one in this relationship.

Heck, there is no real relationship. Friends with benefits, after all.

"(Y/N)! Bakugo-kun! You've arrived at last!" Uraraka-chan was the first one to greet us by the door.

"I'm sorry we're late, I asked Bakugo to pick me up since he lives so close-by, but he was training and couldn't leave early", I felt my cheeks flush up. Everyone's attention was on us and I didn't like it. "Besides, Kirishima-kun! Thanks for having us!"

Thankfully, I quickly felt comfortable and no one talked about how they've been waiting for us. We had a fun time, joking around, eating cakes that Sato baked and listening to what everyone's been up to on their vacation. I was able to forget about Bakugo's attitude, but every time I looked at him, it all came back to me, so I tried to avoid him as much. But still, I was able to catch glimpses of him, noticing that he never looked at me too. I am better than this.

I got up to pout myself some water and when I came back I noticed that Deku had joined Uraraka and they were cheerfully engaging in conversation by themselves, so I decided I wouldn't go back to Uraraka and third wheel them. Instead I decided to get some fresh air and went outside. The cold wind felt so nice on my face but I could tell I'd soon be cold enough to return inside.

"Y/N!", I didn't even hear Kirishima opening the balcony's door.

"Kirishima-kun, are you having fun?"

"For sure! I'm glad you could bring Bakugo with you. Wasn't really sure he'd come, since he's been eager to train as much as he can during the vacation time, but maybe having to accompany you made him responsible to come" Kirishima smiled and he'd never looked so innocent to me before.

"Ah, I just guess he came for you Kirishima-kun. You're his best friend after all."

We laughed and I suddenly felt really soft and comfortable talking about Bakugo with him.

"Kirishima-kun, you're great.. I wish I had a relationship with someone like you!"

And then I realized what I just said. Kirishima turned red and I no longer felt cold outside.

"Y/N, I-I don't think I like you like t-that.."

"Ah! No, it's okay, I don't think I do either.."

What am I saying, I know I like Bakugo.

I know he said he didn't like me but the vibe sure felt weird and tense and somehow comfortable. I could so simply say things like these with Kirishima and it did feel awkward but it was okay, we could sit in silence. And it was easier to stay outside now.

But then he called out my name, and I couldn't read his face. He surely thought that I might like him now. I noticed Bakugo was arguing with Iida-kun by the door, when Kirishima raised his hand to cup my cheek and-

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

Why am I not pulling back? Maybe he wants to find out if he'd feel something.. maybe I do as well. Bakugo wouldn't even care anyways. He wouldn't be the least jealous if he saw us.

"Yes", I whispered back and closed my eyes only to feel his soft lips on mine.

It lasted a few seconds but I knew for sure that this wasn't what I felt when I kissed Bakugo. Kirishima was now smiling softly as me and I knew we were on the same page. And this will be between us and nothing will be affected. Except that something caught his attention and he gasped ; I turned to see who else other than Bakugo staring at us.

He looked mad, but doesn't he almost always?

Suddenly I felt overwhelmed with regret towards him.

He wasn't supposed to get jealous, he has no right to!

"Ah, Bakugo saw us maybe", Kirishima shrugged, "He probably thinks we're stupid hahah"

I chuckled, not to make my uncomfortableness look so obvious and we headed back inside, since Bakugo had also disappeared from the entrance.

The rest of the night I felt so out of place and it was hard not to show, but I had to. Spent it mostly chatting with the girls and playing cards and board games.

But soon enough, it was time to go.

Midoriya had already left and so had some of the others that aren't late nighters, and I felt tired from all the tension of the day. I was glad that I had some fun though.

"I'm off, everyone!" I greeted them and put on my shoes and coat.

"I'm going to. Have to train early tomorrow"

I froze. Bakugo was also leaving and this could only mean he wanted to confront me.

I waited for him to be greeted by everyone as well. It was inevitable, we'd go the same way anyways.

But Bakugo didn't say anything. He started pacing fast and it was kind of hard to keep up.

When we reached the cherry blossoms, Bakugo stopped.

"Are you stupid? Why did you do that?!"

He was indeed jealous!

"What does it matter to you even!". Tears were forming in my eyes, I felt so guilty! But it wasn't entirely my fault!

"TO ME? That you're stupid?"

"What does it matter to you??! It didn't even matter to me!"

"Then WHY DID YOU DO THAT"

Bakugo turned around but he wasn't looking at me.

"..I.. don't know... I was curious.. "

"Tsk, 'curious', what even..!"

"I was, okay?! Kirishima was being so nice to me..."

"And you had to be stupid?!"

"STOP it! Okay? This, this is why I did that. Because I can no longer pretend that you care about me! You made that clear today!"

"I don't go around doing things a scumbag would do!"

Bakugo was starting to redden up, he had become really angry..

"BUT YOU DO!" I shouted, glad that we were the only ones on the street. "You do, when you're late and don't inform me, you do when you're embarrassed and secretive of me, you do when you never really tell me what's on your mind"

"You.." he frowned. "And YOU GO AND DO THAT"

"YES because MAYBE, MAYBE HE would actually LIKE me!"

He seemed to be taken aback. And I was properly crying. And I felt the cold wind against my face and hands. It was too bad we're ruining the effect of the beautiful cherry blossoms.

"Stupid.. STUPID STUPID STUPID", he was now pulling his hair in anger.

"Bakugo, stop! What are you doing!" I rushed out and grabbed him by his shoulders forcing him to look at me. And I felt guilty and sad to see him this angry but this had to mean something.

He looked away, avoiding my gaze at all costs.

"I should be asking you why are you being like this now..", I said softly. "It.. hurts to think about this, but did it feel like you were losing towards Kirishima?"

No answer.

"I'm sorry anyways, I am too tired to argue anymore and I'm sorry I kissed him. I.. didn't think it'd make you angry"

"Tsk, what are you apologizing for, loser.."

Bakugo's voice was soft and quiet..!

"I should be the one saying sorry. I FAILED don't you understand? I didn't make my feelings clear to you"

What?

"All this time, I've been failing to this, I don't no a thing about romance"

What?

"And you never even said anything, either! You just went along when I first kissed you!"

I had nothing to say. Suddenly, everything seemed so meaningless, because he was opening up to me.

"Bakugo.."

"No, shut up, you listen to me now. It drives me crazy cause I can't concentrate and think about you all the time! I LIKE YOUR STUPID ASS"

This can't be for real. I've always wanted him to open up but I never..

"SAY SOMETHING"

"Can you.. say that again?", I was too startled.

"Weren't you listening?!"

"No, I was, it's just that I liked hearing you say that.."

I'd forgotten I'd been holding him weirdly and suddenly felt conscious about being so close to him, when I've been closer to him so many times before, but not like this.

"Tsk, I like you stupid ass, stupid", he frowned jokingly and it was his turn to wrap his arms around me. "I like your stupid stupid ass."

My cheeks have probably never flushed as this much before.

"I like you"

He kept repeating and I felt like I could faint.

"And I promise, I won't ignore my feelings anymore and I won't be USELESS!"

I backed away to look at him.

"Bakugo,.. does this mean, we're really together?"

And Bakugo blushed!

"Yeh" he simply said.

I couldn't help but smile and the cherry blossoms were beautiful around us.

Then, Bakugo tightened his grip on my waist and brought me closer. He kissed my cheek and looked at me again. And I couldn't decide over staring at his eyes or kissing him that moment.

But I couldn't bring myself to stop, I leaned forwards and felt his soft pouty lips against mine, his warmth transmitting to my skin. And we didn't pull back for a few moments.

"Do you want to stay over, Bakugo?"

And he nodded excitedly as we walked home together.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

#katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo one shot #one shot bakugo #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo angst #bnha one shot #fallasleepscenarios #bakugo imagine #bakugo scenarios #scenarios bakugo #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #mha bakugo #my hero academia one shots

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frobee · 3 years

Text

Sorry I made you think he liked me more.

Peter Parker x male reader

PAIRING: PETER PARKER X MALE READER

WARNINGS: Sucky writing. Reader being jealous of Peter. And Doctor Strange teaching y/n magic without Tony knowing.

SUMMARY: Tony and Peter are closer than y/n and Tony which hurts the y/n’s feeling. And Instead of y/n seeking comfort from one of the Avengers, he goes to Doctor Strange. But little did y/n know that Peter has a secret for making Tony act distant.

Requested: YES NO by towerofhellhouse1503 on wattpad.

"I just want Peter Parker x any gender."

Request open

Note: To be honest you guys can get mad at me for my sucky writing. You can even come at me. I don’t mind. Sorry. Sometimes I lose track of what I’m writing so~ sorry- have nice day.

"Good job Peter."

That's all y/n heard before he walked out of the lab in anger and sadness. His dad, Tony Stark. Was once again praising the one and only Peter Parker. It most definitely looked like Peter was his son instead of y/n and that bothered him, but he couldn't do anything about it except act like he was fine. Which of course he wasn't but that never mattered.

Instead of y/n seeking comfort from Steve or Pepper, he headed to Stephen Strange. Stephen had taught y/n most of the stuff he knew about magic without y/n's father knowing which wasn't the best idea but you and Strange sure were hot-headed.

Walking into the empty training room y/n slowly started opening a portal to where Strange was at. Y/n opened the portal and looked through it seeing Stephen seated on a bench while reading a book, stepping through Strange said, "I sensed something would happen. Wanna talk about it?" y/n nodded and sat next to him on the bench.

"Just Tony and Peter again. Peter did something Tony likes and he was praised for it. Like usual."

Stephen nodded and patted y/n's back. "Have you perhaps tried doing something he likes?"

"of course I have." y/n sighed and lowered his head down, "But he doesn't let me in the lab at all...I made a cool gadget last week but if I showed him, he would've gotten mad at me again for going into his lab and touching his tools."

Stephen just nodded along understanding where y/n was getting at. "Could you perhaps show me what you made?"

"Yea, sure. It's in my room." y/n stood up and opened a portal to his room. "come along."

Y/n and Stephen walked into the room. Stephen looked around while y/n went towards his closet and started looking for a box. Y/n's room wasn't too interesting. The room had a few bookshelves, plants, and some gaming devices along with two couches. Stephen went towards the couch by the window and sat down. "Cool room. Gives a good vibe."

Y/n thanked him and pulled out the box he was looking for. Y/n went over to the couch and sat down next to him. "These are a few things I made, " Stephen looked in the box and pulled out some glasses. "What do these do??"

"Put them on." Stephen did as told and they turned on. Y/n got one of his math works and put it in front of Stephen. "Touch one of the questions and tell me what you see." Stephen did that and looked at y/n impressed and proud. The glasses had shown him the answer and his to solve it.

-------

After y/n showing and explaining to Stephen how the stuff worked it had already turned dark out which meant it was time for him to go. "stop by anytime. I'm usually in here working on stuff or just sleeping."

Stephen hugged y/n and said "proud of you kid. Keep working on that cool stuff and maybe forget about this whole Peter being better because in my eyes you are better."

Y/n smiled widely "thanks Strange and I will. Have a good night."

Stephen left and y/n decided to go down to the kitchen and see what everyone was up to. To his surprise, only Peter was there.

"Hey y/n! What's up? Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers went out on a mission, said they'd be back by midnight."

Y/n nodded and sat down on the counter, he didn't wanna be in the same room as Peter. Peter would sometimes start ranting about the stuff Tony and him did and Y/n didn't like that at all. It hurt his feelings seeing someone who wasn't related to Tony be closer than his son.

" that's cool Pete. But shouldn't you be home by now?"

"Oh, yea! I was supposed to but Mr. Stark said I could stay here and have a sleepover with you. He already called aunt May and let her know." Peter said all that while smiling.

Y/n sighed and nodded. "Cool." he got off the counter and went towards a cupboard and took out the cereal and a bowl. Y/n groaned, he was too lazy to go to the fridge and get the milk so he just opened a portal and stuck his hand through. Opening the fridge he took the milk out and closed the fridge and the portal.

"Wow, where did you learn that?"

You almost dropped the milk when you realized what you had done in front of Peter. Panicking you quickly tried to reason with Peter. "Learn what Peter? I didn't do anything. Maybe you need sleep."

"No. I'm sure I just saw you open one of those portals that wizards can do..what was his name again? Strange?"

"Listen, Peter Tony can't know about this so stay quiet."

" I can't know what little one?"

-After Peter telling Tony what he saw-

“So you are saying that my son knows how to use magic? And I didn't know or permit him? Anything you wanna say y/n?” Tony raised an eyebrow at y/n looking for him to answer him.

“Look in my defense, I needed something to do while you gave all your attention to your gadgets and Peter. So you can’t blame me.”

“Of course I can't blame you. But you can't just do that without telling me first. That's very irresponsible and you deserve a punishment. So no electronics for a month.”

Y/n stood up from the couch and looked at Tony with anger. “ No.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me. I said no. You can't just expect me to ask you permission for something when I can't even go to the lab to just ask a simple question without being yelled at to get out.” Y/n took a deep breath. At this point, all the Avengers were listening even Strange was there.

“ I'm tired of it...if you like Peter more than me then I can just go live somewhere else. Maybe even with Strange.”

Peter looked up when he heard his name and frowned. “ Y/n...I'm sorry..its all my fault that you weren't let into the lab. I told Mr. Stark to keep you out so I could do something for you. I'm sorry.”

Y/n looked over at Peter, “what? Why? Why did you do that?” Tony stood up and looked at Peter. “I think it time you confess, kid.” Peter nodded at Tony and went to the lab. He came back a few minutes later with a small box in his hand. “ Mr. Stark and I have been working on this for a few weeks...I was gonna give it to you next week but I guess I waited too long.”

You looked at Peter confused before he came over to you and opened the box. In the box, there was a necklace with your favorite animal. It was hand made by Peter and Tony.

“I made this just for you. So, will you be my boyfriend y/n?”

You took a minute to process what was happening before you smiled and hugged Peter. “Yea, of course, Pete.” Peter smiled and kissed you passionately. Everyone in the living room clapped and congratulated you. Except one of them who looked a bit grumpy about Peter kissing you.

“Hurt my son Peter and you’ll regret it.”

The end.

#peter parker x male reader #x male reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel #tony stark #stephen strange #the avengers #peter parker

178 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

figure it out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this has been in my wips for literal months as i’ve done my best to get it just right for yall. i hope you enjoy it, and tell me what you think! There’s an addendum to this one, and i’m already working on it, but we’ll see a few more things before that’s ready :)

words: 3.5k warnings: sex mention, sex implication, language

summary: “love is like a backache. it doesn’t show up on an x-ray, but you know it’s there.” - george burns. au!january 2012.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You roll over in bed when your alarm goes off, but you don’t get very far. Aaron throws an arm over you and pulls you back to him with a grumble.

You huff a laugh and wiggle up against him. It’s all a tease and you both know it - there isn’t any time to get up to anything fun before work, but it’s far too entertaining to rile him up.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His voice escapes his lips between your shoulder blades and you can feel his smile.

“Oh, trust me, babe. I can finish.”

He hums, his smile breaking out into something real. “I noticed.”

+++

When the two of you finally make it out of bed (surprisingly still on time), you grab one of Aaron’s scarves and a hat on your way out. It’s your turn to drop Jack at school today on your way into the office, and the task serves two purposes.

The first? It’s nice to spend time with Jack, just the two of you, when it’s your turn and you’re not on a case. It’s the same for Aaron, who always leaves a little earlier so he and Jack can sit down somewhere and have breakfast together.

The second is pure logistics. You two can’t show up to work in the same car at the same time, so a convenient excuse to separate and stagger your arrivals is welcome.

“Really?”

Aaron’s question stops you at the threshold and you look over your shoulder “What?”

“My hat? My scarf?”

It’s almost too tempting to cave when he’s looking at you like that - his tie hanging around his neck, shirt untucked, arms crossed, and playful frown hiding a smile.

“Yeah. It’s warm and it’s here and we’re late.”

Jack squints up at you and says, “We’re not late.”

“You’re not late.”

The observations come within split seconds of each other and you laugh.

“Fine. Not late, but warm. And you have more hats.” You scamper back into the house to plant a kiss on his lips, smoothing the hair at his temples.

Jack’s laughter is the underscore to your next quip. “You’re very handsome and I’m sure you’re very smart so you can figure it out.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Jack chirps. “Figure it out.”

He has nothing to say to your retreating forms as he catches a glimpse of your smile through the crack in the closing door.

+++

Emily and Spencer are away at a conference-book-signing thing, so it’s just the five of you and Penelope this morning. You’d normally figure that would be Rossi’s purview, but apparently -

“My book-signing days have been put on hold indefinitely in favor of -”

“ - He’s back.” Garcia interrupts, tossing case files at all of you. The conversation is cut short and you suppress a smile. “The Marin headlands last night.”

You can see Aaron’s lips pull as well.

It’s the little things.

Penelope gestures with the notes and crime scene photos appear on the screen. “David Atley and Nicole Puli, both 24, both grad students at Berkeley, shot multiple times in their vehicle-- wait for it--” She clicks again and a familiar sigil appears.

“The Zodiac?” Morgan’s shock is almost sardonic in its delivery.

Rossi snorts. “No way.”

“Come on,” Derek says, amused, while JJ chimes in as well.

“It's gotta be the 2.0 version.”

While neither of you speak, you share a glance with Aaron. You’re kidding.

He only raises his eyebrows for a split second and shrugs.

There’s some part of you a little paranoid that you’re the most obvious couple to exist in the history of the universe. Sure, the team has been teasing you about your friendship for years, the will-the-won’t-they of it all, but now that it’s real you’re almost terrified that they know everything.

Thus, the overcompensation has been wretched. You and Aaron barely look at each other in the field if you can help it (which you usually can’t) and he tends to put you with Derek more often than not.

In truth, the others have noticed, but are far too interested in the spectacle to say anything. Emily’s almost certain the two of you have slept together, and Dave may or may not have suggested the possibility of a secret marriage during your period of suspension.

However far-fetched and ridiculous their theories, they know you two well enough to know that something happened. The tension is gone.

Derek almost finds himself missing the tension. There hasn’t been much to tease you about lately in its absence.

“Yeah, you would think so, except for the crazy similarities in the MO.” Penelope clicks through the photos as she talks.

“I'm talking same victimology, same geography. And,” she adds. “Two souvenirs were left at the crime scene.” She clicks once more and stands back for the full effect.

“He left a photo?” Rossi asks.

She hums in the affirmative. “Local police say that is Marcia Miller. She was found near Napa in 1971. Strongly suspected that she was a victim of the Zodiac, but police never confirmed it and they didn't publicize the case.”

Morgan’s still squinting at the screen. “So the Zodiac took this photo at the killing and then saved it all these years?”

“The Zodiac's last confirmed victim was the cabdriver Paul Stine,” Dave notes devolving into a conversation about The Zodiac, his timeline, his signature.

It’s nothing new - The Zodiac Killer’s case details are common knowledge in your line of work, nevermind the sheer number of copycats that try their hand at the highly-ritualistic murders before inevitably getting arrested.

There’s a reason this guy hasn’t been caught in forty years.

After a few minutes of bouncing between you all, Hotch pushes back from the table and stands. “Have Reid and Prentiss meet us in San Francisco. Wheels up in 30.”

He heads straight to his office to collect his things and you swing in by the tips of your fingers for just a second. “You wanna call Jess or do you want me to?”

In the middle of throwing files in his briefcase, he doesn’t look up when he answers. “Can you, please? I was supposed to meet with Strauss this afternoon and need to stop by her office before wheels up.”

You smile at him, tapping the door frame twice. “You got it.”

+++

It’s boots on the ground right away when you land in San Francisco. You drive to the crime scene with Aaron in the passenger seat beside you and JJ in the back. The radio’s on, and you sing under your breath, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you make your way up to the crime scene.

Before you get to the local FBI agents, JJ catches you by the sleeve. “It’s nice to have music in the car again.”

You just smile at her. Aaron looks a little puzzled.

The three of you wipe the looks off your faces by the time you get to Agent Lynn.

+++

“What did JJ mean?” Aaron asks you.

The two of you are alone for the time being, posted up in the conference room with the old Zodiac case files. You look up. “Hmm?”

“What did she mean when she mentioned the music earlier?”

“Oh.” A little flush of embarrassment shoots down your gut. “Derek pointed out to me last summer that I didn’t play any music in the car.”

...while you were gone is the thing you don’t say, but he knows that’s what you mean.

“I didn’t really notice.” You shrug to cover your fib. “I guess I’ve reacquainted myself with the radio in the last couple of weeks.”

Aaron hums, returning to his work. Something’s off, but you’re sure it’ll come up later.

+++

“You don’t think it’s really him, do you?” You ask, unbuttoning your shirt and throwing your pajamas on.

Surprisingly, this case seems to be one of those that allows for sleep at regular hours. For that, you’re grateful. It’s much harder to find time to wind down with Aaron at the end of the day when you’re all forced to sleep in shifts.

Aaron shakes his head, “No, I think Reid’s right. We’re looking at a particularly sophisticated copycat.”

“Isn’t that kind of worse?” Hopping up on your bed, you curl up and look at him over your nose - a clear invitation to join you.

With a huff down his nose and a little smile, he flops down beside you and props his chin on his arms over your belly. “Could be. Luckily, we have Reid.”

You almost think he’s going to say something else, but he gets that pensive look on his face again.

“What?”

With a sigh, he says, “I’m just thinking about what JJ said.”

“Oh, Aaron -”

He doesn’t let you finish. It’s probably a good thing. You didn’t know what you wanted to say anyway.

“I knew how hard it was on me, but I’m realizing more and more how hard it was on you, too.” He shakes his head. “I feel ...I don’t know. I feel like I should have known better… or something.”

Winding your fingers in his hair, you sit in silence for a moment. He doesn’t have anything more to say and eventually he crawls up your body and settles in under your arm, his head on your chest and legs wound between yours.

Sometimes, you’ve found, he likes to feel small.

“You’re safe and you’re home. That’s what matters.” You kiss the top of his head. “And I love you.”

He hums, arcing into your touch and wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you.”

+++

You spend much of the next day chasing Spencer around the city, keeping notes handy (for yourself, not for him - he doesn't need them) and reporting back on his discoveries to the team like some kind of overwrought and hyper-trained secretary.

Stepping off to the side, you answer a call from Aaron.

“Hit your limit yet?”

You look over at Spencer, who’s flipping through a newspaper like a man on a mission. “It’s actually kind of entertaining.”

And that’s actually true. Watching Spencer push the limits of his intelligence is always a treat - it happens so rarely you almost forget how much you enjoy it every time.

He huffs into the phone. “Hang in there. We’ll all meet back at the precinct once Reid’s done -”

“Doing magic?”

“Exactly. Keep me posted.” There’s a pause. It’s an odd little habit you two developed in the field to leave space for the words you can’t say in front of the others.

I love you.

“Me too.”

+++

You’re almost asleep when a sliver of yellow light shoots across your room, promptly disappearing as the door to the hallway closes.

He pads across the room and slips under the covers. “Hi.”

A little smile crosses your face as you roll over to face him. “Hi.”

Before you can say anything else, his hands are on you and he’s half on top of you as he captures your lips.

Needless to say, the lack of sleep is worth it.

+++

Emily, long after she and Aaron are the only ones left in the precinct conference room, squints as she notices something right under his collar.

He’s already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt, no longer standing on ceremony now that all the local police have retired and the rest of the team gone up to their hotel rooms. There’s not much to do, but the compulsion to get ahead for tomorrow is one neither one of them can shake.

What Aaron failed to remember when executing his wardrobe adjustment was the rather...spirited romp in your room the night prior. The little purple swatches painted on his skin just under the line of his collar stood out stark against the crisp lines of his dress shirt.

Fortunately for you, there was no way in hell the rest of the team would find anything he left on you last night.

Emily reaches into her purse and pulls out a tube of concealer and a powder compact. Though he’s more olive-toned than she is, it’ll be good enough in a pinch. “Hey, Hotch.”

He looks at her over his nose, his eyes tired.

“You might want this for tomorrow morning.” She pushes the crisis control kit across the table to him, but he only frowns and deepens his squint.

By way of explanation, she reaches across the table and presses the tip of her finger into one of the visible bruises in the hollow of his throat. He flinches, freezes, and then immediately drops his head into his hands.

It’s easy to say Emily is amused in the extreme. “Those look...really fresh.”

He shakes his head, insisting as he picks up a file at random, “They’re from before we left.”

It’s only because it’s Emily that he’s even humoring this conversation.

“No they’re not.” She sticks her tongue firmly in her cheek. “These ones are though.” She points at yellowing marks on his collarbone and he smacks her hands away.

“And I know what fresh hickies look like, Hotch. Those are fresh fresh. Like, last night fresh. And we’ve been here for four days.” She frowns, tracking back through the day. “When on earth would you have time to -”

A series of images flash through her head, random wayward connections flashing together in an alarmingly clear picture.

You, avoiding her at the office back in September with quickly-covered marks painted across your neck.

You, flirting with Sean and having way too much fun doing it, looking over his shoulder at ...someone else.

Hotch, in a perpetually good mood (for him, anyway, and despite looking ill-slept) for the last five months.

The way the mistletoe kiss at Dave’s Christmas party looked way too easy, too familiar.

And now, the obvious indicators that Hotch is not only getting it, he’s getting it good.

If he got those last night…

Wait.

Their hotel rooms are right next to …

Oh my God.

Hotch watches the realization flash across Emily’s face, and he knows you’re both busted. Instead of losing her shit like he expected, Emily just leans back in her chair - smug.

“So. Are you still Not the Boyfriend, or has there been an update?”

He sighs.

The corner of her mouth tips up. “How long?”

“For which part? The not-boyfriend part, the boyfriend part, or this part?” He gestures vaguely to the space behind his tie, and Emily snorts.

“Just spill it.”

Holding up a finger, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing the first number on his speed dial.

You’re hardly asleep, sitting up in bed waiting for him with a case file in your lap, when you get the call. You’re not sure who’s listening, so a “Hey, Hotch. What’s up?” will have to do.

“Emily knows.”

You straighten. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter. She knows.”

There’s a scramble, and suddenly Emily’s on the other end of the phone. “He’s got very questionable and very fresh bruises just under his collar. Care to explain?”

There’s another shuffle.

“Ignore her,” Aaron says. With a hand pressed to your forehead, you understand the question implicit in his phone call.

“Just tell her. It’s basically her fault, anyways. If she hadn’t ditched it then we’d have our heads up our asses for another five years.”

“Alright,” then, after a second of realizing you don’t sound sleepy at all, “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. Emily can only look on with amusement, gleeful in the extreme. “You know that’s not what I mean. Go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” You reluctantly close the casefile and put him on speaker so he can hear the light click off. “I’m going to sleep.” Then, “I love you. Come up soon.”

“Okay.” He shoots a glance at Emily. Because he’ll never hear the end of it anyway, more ammo won’t hurt at this point. “I love you too. Now, really. Go to slee -”

You hang up on him. He double-takes at his phone for a moment before shoving it back in his pocket.

He’s met with Emily’s surprisingly moved eyes. “You’re...okay.”

What she means is, You’re happy.

He knows.

He nods. “I’m okay.”

She puts her files down and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers. “Tell me.”

So, he does.

He tells her about the way you stuck to him like glue through the divorce, the way you wiggled your way into Haley’s heart, captured the love of his son, and earned the trust of his entire family.

He tells her what Haley said in the hospital, the tenacious care you showed his unyielding and unwilling ass when he was healing, the way your grief soothed his in the wake of Haley’s loss.

He tells her about the moments of euphoria in the years of want and doubt and fear.

He tells Emily about the day she died, how there was nothing more painful than that necessary lie. He tells her how easy it was to lie to the others, how it ripped him in half to lie to you.

He tells her about the day he left for Pakistan, about the fight the night before, the kiss he pressed to your cheek on the tarmac, the endless, wretched nights missing you in the desert.

He tells her about the fight when he finally came home, skims over the following days, jumps and meanders around to Christmas, to moving in, to the bliss that now seems to follow him wherever he goes.

Emily watches the smile that plays at his mouth when he talks about you, the softness in his eyes as recalls the look on your face and the words you said and the way you are with Jack. There’s a kind of peace in him that she’s never really seen before.

Maybe, she imagines, it was there before she met him (the second time). Maybe this peace existed with Haley. Maybe this is the most she’s ever heard him speak at once. Maybe it makes her smile.

Maybe this peace is what his love looks like.

If that’s the case, she thinks, you are very lucky indeed.

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but at some point he stops talking.

“Hotch?”

He looks over at her, the softness lingering in his eyes.

“I’m really happy for you.”

His lips twitch. “Thanks.”

“And you know it’s my God-given right to tell everyone else once this case is over, right?”

+++

You actually are asleep by the time Aaron gets back to the hotel. He leans against the wall in the dark with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the peace before the inevitable shitshow.

He crosses the room and crouches at your side, running the back of his fingers over your cheek. You stir, sleepy noises leaving your throat as your eyes crack open.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah. Just me.”

You smile a little and close your eyes again. “How’d she take it?”

“Remarkably well.” He kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No,” you whine, drawn-out and slurred. “Don’t leave. Stay. I set an alarm.”

With a resigned sigh, he strips and slides into bed behind you, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close.

+++

You and Aaron sit on proverbial pins and needles for the rest of the case, but Emily keeps her word. The only indication of her knowledge came the morning after her chat with Aaron, when she pulled you to her and hugged you so tight you could hardly breathe.

She seizes her moment on the plane, about halfway home.

“Derek, you owe me fifty bucks.”

She hardly looks up from her book as she speaks.

He takes off his headphones and wrinkles his brow. “What?”

She repeats herself, slower, as if she was speaking to a child. “You. Owe. Me. Fifty. Bucks.”

“...Why?”

Emily finally looks up from her book to pointedly stare at you and Aaron, seated next to each other and sharing a bag of Goldfish you stole from Jack’s snack drawer. You’re both reading from the same file, absently reaching for crackers as you go along.

Derek’s confusion continues to smother his face until it finally clicks in.

He steals a page from Reid’s notebook and balls it up, tossing it across the plane and breaking your concentration. You look up, only a little startled, to find a face-splitting grin blinding you across the cabin.

Derek’s small ruckus has drawn the attention of the rest of the team - well, all except JJ, who’s fast asleep on the couch.

There seems to be a collective sigh of relief as money exchanges hands. You’re not quite sure what the bet was, but Emily seems to have won handily.

Aaron takes your hand under the table, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It doesn’t.

Everyone simply returns to their tasks, little smiles on their faces.

+++

tagging: @quillvine @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygrangerwriting @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future

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iamverysmall-andihavenomoney · 3 years

Text

Forgotten Birthdays

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Oikawa Tōru x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Your parents and friends (except for those in the volleyball club) forget your birthday

A/N: One last bit before the angst later. Plus, this is a little self indulgent, not gonna lie.

When people asked, your answer was always the same. “I don’t know. I forgot it a while ago.” So many people would ask how you could forget something so important. So many people would laugh and give you a look that you read all too well as a look of pity.

Though you couldn’t blame them. Who could forget their own birthday?

Well, to be honest, you hadn’t. But you said you did. It made things easier to cope with. No one else ever remembered.

You hoped this year would be different. Your trust and love for your boyfriend and his volleyball club had given you a bit of hope that you hadn’t thought yourself capable of, any longer. For the first time in years, you woke up on your birthday with a smile, wondering if maybe Tōru had broken the cycle and remembered.

It didn’t take long for you to tug on your uniform and practically fly out of the door to school.

You should have known better. Maybe that would have made the inevitable heartbreak the tiniest bit easier. But, when you greeted your boyfriend, any trace of hope that anyone would ever remember or care just... faded.

“Hey Tōru,” you greet your boyfriend with a kiss to his cheek, which he responds to with an almost sheepish grin. Then, you look at the other three third years, waving to them with a light smile.

“What’s got you in such a good mood today?” Hanamaki raises an eyebrow in your direction, “You’re usually pretty tired in the mornings.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, your boyfriend nods his head, “Today special?” He asks you curiously.

If he hadn’t looked away when he did, he might’ve caught the crestfallen look that flashed across your features. It seemed Iwaizumi was about to ask you something, when Tōru speaks up again, “Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to pull it away from you, but would you mind if I had my jacket back? We’ve got a practice game later and I’ll need it for then.”

Managing a weak smile, you nod and silently slip the jacket from your shoulders, before handing it to him. It takes you a moment to swallow the lump in your throat and speak, but luckily, you did manage to keep your voice level. “Of course... I have a class I’ve got to be to early, this morning. So, I’ll see you at lunch?”

Visibly flinching at your words, Tōru frowns. “Cutie, I wish I could but I-”

“Need to practice. I understand.” You nod, before glancing at the other three, “See you three later...” With a nod and an almost awkward wave of your hand, you carry on towards the school.

You barely manage to carry yourself to the nurse’s office, before tears brim your eyes. The look of pity that came from the school nurse is what had the tears finally trickling down your cheeks, your meek question for an area to discreetly regain your composure silenced by her ushering you to a bed and pulling the curtain closed, for you.

...

2:37

From: My Pretty Setter ‘You coming? You’re usually here before most of the boys.’ ‘Y/N? Everything alright?’

Sent to: My Pretty Setter ‘I haven’t been feeling well, today, Tōru.’ ‘I’m sorry, but I’m just going to go home and see if laying down helps. But let me know how it goes, okay?’ ‘I’ll be rooting for you, from a distance.’

Locking your phone, you tuck it back into your bag. Maybe it was for the best, anyways. You didn’t know how much more you could take after the pitying ‘Happy Birthday’ was thrown your way after the nurse looked over your file.

You began the walk home with your eyes glued to the pavement in front of you. You could contain your tears until you got home, couldn’t you?

The walk felt like it lasted an eternity before you were finally able to enter an empty household. You left the lights off as you trudged to your room, shutting the door behind you. You pull your phone and laptop from your bed, gently placing them on your bed before you drop your schoolbag to the floor.

Slumping back in your chair, you feel the tears start to fall. You felt humiliated and you weren’t even sure why. You’d been such an idiot to believe this year would be any different than any other.

The morning spent, slowly realizing that despite all of your efforts to not care about your birthday and to not remember it, you did remember it, and you did care. Then, you spent your lunches alone. And you went home as soon as school ended... And you spent the evening all alone, sometimes making a subpar cupcake or cake for yourself.

Your brows furrow as you glance in the mirror. You felt pathetic and you fucking hated it.

With your attention so focused on your reflection in the mirror, you didn’t realize someone else was in your house, until you heard your door creek, as it was pushed open. And there stood the last person you wanted to see right now.

Sinking to the edge of your bed, you bring your hands up to quickly wipe away the tears that quickly rolled down your cold, wet cheeks, “Tōru, what are you doing here? You have a practice game—”

“Y/N, stop,” he comes to kneel in front of you, in between your legs, softly cooing to you. “Sweet baby, hey, what are you doing here? Alone?”

Tōru, of course, knew that your parents were seriously absent in your life. They were almost never home, and you were left alone, more often than not, which was why you both called and texted one another as frequently as you did. Unless he could be there with you, then he was spending the night as often as he could.

But today was your birthday. Not just that, but your eighteenth one, at that. Why weren’t they here to celebrate with you?

“What do you mean?” Your confusion broke his heart, “It’s just like any other day. They’re never here.”

“No, it’s not. Today is your birthday and they—” His breath caught in his throat, realization hitting him. So that was why you pretended to never know your birthday. Because even your parents had forgotten. “Baby did they...?”

You frown, looking at the ground, “You — You forgot too,” your voice is weak and as you fall silent, you bite down on your bottom lip in an attempt to keep the quiver out of your voice. “But, it’s not important. You have a game to get to, anyway.”

Tōru’s shoulders fall. This morning had been a display of what the four third-years thought to be bad acting. They’d never forget your birthday and they thought you’d have figured out what they were up to, by now. There was no practice game. Only a birthday party for you that the team had put together. Which was why your boyfriend had been so quick to retrieve you.

“Baby, none of us forgot your birthday. Stupid idea to act like none of us remembered, honestly, I know. It is important and... Just come with me, yeah? We’ll talk about this thing with your parents, later. Sound good?”

Your eyes move back to him, tears filling them all over again. “You - You didn’t..?”

He shakes his head, bringing his hands to gently cup your cheeks, gently wiping his thumbs over your wet cheeks. “Of course I didn’t. You can’t imagine how very important you are to me, Y/N. I wasn’t going to let you go without celebrating, today. Because no matter how unimportant you think today is...” He laces his fingers together with yours as he speaks.

“The day that my favorite person in this world and the person I love more than anything came into this world is just as important to me as... Making it to Nationals, if you can believe that.”

His comparison makes a quiet laugh escape you, sniffling a bit. “I’m sorry for assuming you forgot.”

“Don’t apologize.” Tōru scolds you, “But I am serious when I say that I need to have a serious talk with your parents. No child should go without ever getting to celebrate with the people who care about them. That’s just not how it works.”

Wrapping your arms around your boyfriend, you allow him to pull you up so that you’re both standing, wrapped in one another’s arms. The way you bury your face in his chest and allow yourself to relax against him reassures him.

...

After allowing you time to clean yourself up and get dressed, Tōru takes your hand and quite literally drags you all of the way back to the Aoba Jōsai volleyball club gym, grinning stupidly as he knocks a few times on the door to let them know that you were both there. Then, he pauses and turns towards you to look at you in excitement as he waits for them to get ready inside.

After a moment, he manages to kick the door open, tugging you into the dark gym. He moves to your side, but still, his eyes don’t leave you. He silently wondered if this was your first birthday party. No matter if it was, or not, though, he wasn’t to see your reaction to all of his meticulous planning... After all, he had been planning all of this for a solid two months.

It was all he’d been talking about to Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa. Though, they would admit that it was nice to see him so invested in something that wasn’t volleyball, for once.

As the lights are turned on, you find yourself looking at the (mostly) smiling faces of the volleyball club that you had grown so familiar with. Though you weren’t officially a manager, you were always here to support them at practices and games. They all knew that if any of them came and asked you for help with anything, you’d do it for them in a heartbeat. Everyone in the club adored you.

Shittykawa had done himself well, finding you and everyone in the club agreed.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” a chorus of voices call out to you, some leaving you to register and take in your surroundings, while others immediately approached so that they could speak to you.

Iwaizumi is the first to reach you, “I hope you like it. Loserkawa has been planning this for you for months.” Though most around you laughed at the seeming jest, you took his words for what they were: a subtle way of telling you that Tōru had planned this all, by himself and deserved the credit for it.

After speaking to some of the team, you see your boyfriend go to grab a parcel with a bow on it for you, bringing it back to you with a grin. “Open it.”

Giving him a look of confusion, your hands begin to peel open the parcel, allowing your boyfriend to pull the trash from your hands so that you can use both of them to see your gift. It was a jacket, themed with your school’s colors, teal and white. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you look at the words on the back of the jacket.

‘Y/N L/N ‘Seijoh’s Manager’

Turning it over in your hands, you looked at the front as well. Next to the zipper, on the right side of the jacket and below the collar, rest more words.

‘If found, please return to Tōru Oikawa’

“So, do you like it?” Your boyfriend wears a sheepish, almost apprehensive smile as he tries to gauge your reaction.

“I love it, Tōru. I love it all... Thank you.” Your words are accompanied by a sweet kiss to his lips.

“You two, the first years are present, come on, now.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan! Now how about we turn on some music and treat this like an actual party?”

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