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regretisstoredintheme · 9 months

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Request! Rise Donnie x reader that is smarter than him and teases him about it and he's furious about having a crush on them being 100% oblivious that reader already knows and feels the same way. From Donnie's POV. PLEASE and thank you!

I’ve been dreaming of a— HMMMMMM????

Request, you say????

“Anonymous asked: Request! Rise Donnie x reader that is smarter than him and teases him about it and he's furious about having a crush on them being 100% oblivious that reader already knows and feels the same way. From Donnie's POV. PLEASE and thank you!”

A/N: unfortunately, I can’t see any way that this would go well... If any writer wants to take this prompt and make a fluff version of this, have at thee! But I can only imagine this going one way….

Smarter. (A Oneshot) - Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Witch Town & Mind Meld, angst, hurt no comfort, Y/n misreads his feelings, Donnie is a protective father.

The science guy.

That was me.

I “dealt” with things. The “Bill Nye” comments, the teasing, the bantering, the loneliness, the hours of work into every, single, little project I made. I’ve hacked into every camera in NYC. I’ve created sentient machines, reprogrammed a useless movie vehicle to be the best in the world, I would say. Made bombs, robbed and reverse robbed banks, created rockets, bombs, ingenious battle devices, tech-bo, for christs sake! And so! Many! More! But…

Then, there was you.

Perfect, in absolutely every way. Mystic, science, physics, hell — you even beat me in banter, leaving me speechless nearly every time. And you rubbed it in my face. You were the Hamilton to my Aaron Burr. It didn’t help that you checked off all my boxes, Cute and mean, that was my type, and I wanted to bond with you, a fellow scientist who I didn’t have to dumb down my talk for, someone I could be myself around! but you… you made yourself impossible to tolerate. I admit I didn’t take it well, when I realized…

You were everything I wanted to be.

“Awww, is this Shelldon?” You scratched behind one of his many ears, making him trill in delight. “Ahhahawww thanks, dude! Yeah that’a me.” He responded, leaning into your touch. “He’s cute! What coolant do you take, buddy?” You asked, talking down to him like a child, the exact way Sheldon had always reprimanded me for.

“Donnie’s experimenting with different types,” Yes I am, “He’s trying Castrol Radicool Premix right now, it’s been doing good so far.” Thank you.

As expected, you inhale sharply through your teeth, making my attention pique from what I was trying to distract myself with. “Donnie really doesn’t take care of you, huh?”

…

What?

Me?

I don’t take care of Shelldon?

“Uhhh… I don’t know if that’s—“ I can’t bring myself to let him finish, already standing from my gaming chair. I turned on my heel, fury in my eyes as I rolled the seat out of the way, “Excuse me?”

You chuckled, and felt my blood boil, “Awh, Donnie, you’re blushing! Embarrassed?”

“Infuriated.” I answered.

“Oh come off it, I simply think you should try Ethylene Glycol, it would be so much better for winter.” I grit my teeth, every word from your sicky-sweet voice made my skin crawl. I would have attacked you right then and there if I didn’t know you had better tech. Hah, better tech… better than me? ME of all people? No.

I furrow my brows, “That was next on my list..” I seethe, feeling my nerves spike as you poked my shoulder. I hated when you did that, it made my face go red and my palms sweat. Curse this irony, it was like smiling at a joke from a person you’re mad at. It’s frustrating, but involuntary.

“C’mon, we both know you’re not really mad, you’re just frustrated cuz you like me. Look at that blushing nose~!” I felt my voice catch in my throat as you leaned into my face, wanting nothing more than to push you away already. My body was experiencing a freeze response, and I couldn’t even bring myself to push you, it was as if my bones were made of high-grade titanium, the same as my tech.

I clenched my fists, feeling a bit of my confidence return as Shelldon flew to my side. “I thought I was supposed to be the narcissist…” I hissed, feeling my face redden with anger. I’ve never hated anyone more.

Your face turns confused, but I can’t bring myself to realize you might have misunderstood my feelings, “You think you’re so great, don’t you?” Shelldon cowers, I know he hates when I raise my voice, so I lower to a furious whisper, “You think you can just waltz into my lab, my life, and tell me how to run things?” My nails dig into my palm, I resist the urge to threaten you, knowing your body would never be found beneath my hands.

“You think you’re the science guy, don’t you? Think you can correct everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve and just take my place!?” Make me worthless? Be the purple sibling? What next, re-wiring my systems? Taking scraps and making a dark matter accelerator? Drawing on eyebrows to a cheap version of my bandana!?

Your eyebrows knit, “woah, woah, Dondon, I didn’t mean—“ “Don’t fucking call me that!!” I seethe, feeling tears prick at my eyes, I hate how emotional I am when I’m angry, but I’m too deep in now. Some weak, soft shelled part of my heart is telling me to apologize, but I’ve always, always acted with my head. It’s telling me you’re a threat. And you are… aren’t you?

“I’m not a child!” I can feel my heartbeat, eyes wide and I take a deep breath to lower my voice. “And Y’know what, I think I finally found something I’m better at.” I fold my arms, watching a frown finally form on your face.

“Really?” You glared, matching my stiff body language.

“Yeah.” I huff, “Reading the room.”

“You? Read a room?” You scoffed, seeming just as offended, but I didn’t mind. “Ever think maybe, I did all these things — not to take your place, but to impress you?”

“Oh, you made an impression. Alright.” You… wanted to impress me? I turned my back to you, a small voice telling me that maybe, just maybe, I.. wasn’t acting with my head.. “A bad one.” Why am I so defensive? Why did all this get to me? Shelldon was uncomfortable, I was uncomfortable, hell, I bet my brothers could hear this! They’re probably uncomfortable! why couldn’t I be the bigger turtle and just move on?

“Just… leave..” I waved at the air, sinking into my seat with a little regret. Why was it, that around you, I was never enough? That I was just the small, weak soft shell who couldn’t play rough with his brothers? Who broke his glasses? Who practically wore a pillowcase for protection?

Why couldn’t I be cool for you? Why was I talked down to? I’ve accomplished so many things, why is it that nobody can ever look at me in awe!? Why am I always admiring someone else, and never being admired?

“…” the tension in the room began to dissipate, and I listened with baited breath as you closed the curtain behind you. I let out the sigh, and I hear Shelldon round the corner, landing his head on mine, “Well, that could’ve gone better…” he muttered, and I feel something strange as I look down at my workbench— grief? Guilt? Whatever it is, it stuck, no matter how badly I didn’t want to admit it.

“Yeah..” I mutter, twirling my screwdriver, “Yeah it could’ve.”

—

A/N: I feel like this might be a lil OOC, am I the only one who gets that vibe?? Idk I’m not really feeling this one, lmk what you guys think 😭 I guarantee another writer could best me at this prompt, and I offer it up to anyone interested! Hope this was ok, anon, really hope I didn’t wreck your day. —

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #donnie x reader #rise donnie x reader #donatello x reader #regrettable writing #donatello #tmnt #tmnt x reader #2018 tmnt #2018 donatello x reader #2018 donnie

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flowerfeast444 · 2 years

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you were a house on fire || h.s. {pt 2}

harry x oc

summary: harry and roe meet for a second time

word count: 2.7k

series masterlist

Today started Harry's sixth consecutive Bad Day. All of them included the heavy weight of emptiness and loneliness in the pit of his stomach, but today’s Bad Day also included crashing his favorite vintage car. A bunny hopped in front of the wheels, what else was he supposed to do except swerve out of the way? He had only been in Chicago for a week before The Six Bad Days, and because he was still trying to find his footing after the events of the last few months, he simply knew no one, recognized nothing, and had no connections to the city around him. Luckily, the heavily bearded man that towed his car gave him a recommendation for an auto body shop. Owned by a friend of a friend, he said, but great people nonetheless. They rode together in the man's truck with the radio's rap station accompanying them. Harry didn't recognize this either. By the time they arrived at the shop, Harry's teeth were clenching so hard, he might as well have cracked a tooth. He pushed it aside, though, to thank Tony, he had figured out, and begrudgingly entered the building.

A man of slightly smaller build followed him inside, only a few steps behind. Harry didn't recall seeing another car outside waiting to be serviced, but perhaps he was here to pick something up, he thought. Either way, he hoped the door would close swiftly behind him, and not welcome any others. He could have sworn he caught a snowflake or two in his eyelashes, and he did not want to add another reason for today to be a Bad Day. The shorter man huffed and crossed his arms with his fingers tapping impatiently against his bicep. It irked Harry, but kept any impulsive comments to himself. Instead, he made his way to the woman at the front desk.

“Hello,” Harry said as he leaned in.

“What’s up? How can I- holy shit.” Her eyes widened in shock, and she had to physically take a step back. Dread rose in Harry’s chest. Today of all days, he wished for the blanket of anonymity more than anything. His dread transformed into confusion when the woman approached the shorter man instead of himself. “What the fuck are you doing here, James?” She pushed a finger into his chest.

They stood only a foot away from Harry, but he was trapped in the corner. He tugged at the ends of his curly hair, unsure if he should try to excuse himself or just wait it out. He flittered his eyes around the room, attempting to give the two a semblance of privacy; a grievous task, given their proximity and the building’s proclivity to echoes.

“I don’t want any trouble, you know that.” He put up his hands in defense, and as she opened her mouth to cut him off, he raised his voice above hers. “I’m just looking for Fae. She won’t answer my calls and I-”

“Do you really think she would answer my calls either? Even if she did, I wouldn’t tell you where she is anyway.”

Anonymity, he remembered. He continued diverting his focus, hoping the other workers in the shop felt the same itchy heat that he did. In his searching, he noticed a single red balloon in the rafters above him, half deflated. He followed the string down to what he assumed to be the Chicago flag. Looking around, he also spotted several movie posters hung around the cinder block walls. Jurassic Park, Godzilla, Pulp Fiction, The Godfather, Jaws.

The first time Harry watched Jaws, he was midway through his time on The X-Factor. His bandmate, Louis, could barely fathom him missing out on such a classic and insisted they watch it right in that moment. They moved from their seats on the ledge of the pool under the moonlight to the couch in the living room, and Louis barely allowed them any time to properly dry off. So, Harry spent the night watching an arguably horrid movie on a damp couch, next to a boy that occupied a frightening amount of his thoughts. Harry never admitted to liking the movie, but whenever Louis probed him about it, an unwilling smile graced his features. He hasn't watched the movie since.

The next thing he knew, the woman in front of him swiftly shoved the agitated man out the door without another word. Harry realized he had grabbed the red vinyl counter top in his attempt to stabilize himself, so he released his grip and smoothed his hands over his beige coat. The woman returned only a half a second later.

“Are you alright?” she asked. She cocked her head to the side, letting her amber bangs fall into her eyes. Harry blinked away his shock in order to respond.

“Yes, yeah, I'm good. Well, not entirely because I crashed my car and need it to be fixed. But. No, yes, I'm fine.”

She gave him an amused look but didn't comment on his fumbling behavior. She could tell by the way he shook his head minutely and ran ring covered hands over the front of his coat again that he didn't want to comment on it either. She opened a new tab on the desktop to her left once she finally made it behind the counter again.

“I’m really sorry about all that, by the way. As an employee of this place and just a person in general, I really don’t like having that type of thing happen. It’s rare, but yeah. Sorry.” She drummed her fingers against her jean-clad thigh.

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s- uh, it’s not really my place to ask, but is everything okay? That man seemed very angry with you, and, well, I want to make sure you’ll be safe when you go home.”

“Don’t worry about me. He’s just a piece of dog shit that seems to linger sometimes.” She waved a hand in the air as if even mentioning him became irrelevant.

“Seems like it.”

“I don’t think he’ll be back again soon.”

“I hope not.” She let his comment hang in the air for a few moments, and offered a sincere smile, but dropped the subject.

“So, you crashed your car?”

///

Harry sat on a steel workbench a few meters from where the woman had started her inspection of his car. He didn’t mean to stare, he really didn’t. But the few swirls of ink on her forearms that peeked out of the collared work shirt intrigued him. He desired so desperately to examine them up close and learn their story. He had seen them before. Briefly. But they were still familiar, just like her warm brown eyes and sharp-pointed nose. The name tag stitched over her left breast is what threw him off.

“Lee?” He questioned. “I don’t mean to sound like a creep, but I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

“I guess I just have that kind of face.” She shrugged but didn’t spare him a glance. “But I recognize you, too. You were at Ruby’s the other night. I was your server.”

“Right! But you said your name was Roe then. Why does your name tag say Lee? If you don't mind me asking.” The woman finally looked at him.

“My name is actually Rosalie. Most of my friends call me Roe, but this was the only uniform that fit me, so around here, I guess I go by Lee.”

“Rosalie.” He tested out the way it rolled out of his mouth, tilting his head down to shield his simper.

Harry occupied that bench every day for at least an hour after that. Roe’s coworkers began complaining that he was letting in a draft with how often he was the cause of the front door swinging open. He mostly sat and talked with Roe while she worked. Whether it stemmed from jealousy or his supposed distractions, a few guys, Eddie and Jace, also complained about him being there entirely. Roe knew them from the four years she had worked there and knew better than to do anything other than just let it go. Eventually, they would find another annoyance in their lives to complain about and Roe’s company would be spared. This knowledge, however, didn’t pacify Harry as much, regardless of how many times Roe tried to tell Harry it was nothing.

For the first time that day, Harry noticed the hum of a Pink Floyd song beneath the clank of metal echoing through the room. It transported him back to his days crowded on a tour bus with four other boys his age. It was pertinent to twenty-year-old Harry to travel with a record player at all times. Some albums were truly made to be consumed this way, and not even the struggle of living out of a suitcase could interrupt this.

They were somewhere between Philadelphia and the next stop when the heat of American August really got to them. Harry set the needle on Pink Floyd’s 'Wish You Were Here' and laid on his back as spread-eagle as possible in the limited, cluttered floor of the bus. The stench of sweaty socks and forgotten beer and cigarettes were more pungent at this level, but after not sleeping for three days, Harry was at a point that he could deal with just about anything.

One of his band mates, Liam, stepped over him to get to the toilet as the album transitioned from Shine On You Crazy Diamond to Welcome to the Machine. He scrunched his nose and shook his head, but Harry knew it wasn’t from the smell. Liam asked what he was doing and why, whatever it was, had to be in the center of the walkway. Harry kept his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. He knew it didn’t fool Liam, but he couldn’t move even if he tried; from lack of energy or the way he lost every sense of himself in the music, he was unsure.

The radio in the auto shop played a song from a different album, but it still brought him comfort, even after the short conversations between him, Roe, and Eddie. The song drew to a close and an unfamiliar one began after it, but the silence them remained. Harry felt a strain in the back of his throat as if words were on the brink of fighting for their escape, but still, he spoke nothing. After an hour, the bench's cold metal bit into his thigh muscles so harshly, his feet tingled. So, he finally stood and shook his limbs.

“I was wondering when you were going to get bored. I’m surprised you’ve stayed this long, it’s almost four. Gettin’ dark out already,” Roe muttered the last part to herself in disbelief, but her smirk was definitely intended for Harry.

“Not bored, just stiff.” He frowned and shook his head.

Roe’s phone vibrated in her back pocket, restraining her from pestering him anymore. The name ‘SARA BEAR’ flashed onto the screen. Roe thought about letting it go to voicemail, but after the third ring, she knew her friend deserved better than that. So, she spared a glance at Harry, who still stood to her side, so close she could smell the vanilla in his cologne and answered the call with a soft, “Hello?”

“Hey! Where are you right now?” Sara said. Roe faintly heard the chattering of familiar voices, so she assumed she was just now leaving work at her salon.

“I’m at the shop, why?”

“We should go out tonight! I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

Roe felt a tug in her heart. She hadn’t avoided Sara or her other friends, but with work and taking care of her siblings, the times she could take for herself had been rare. They celebrated Christmas two months ago, and with the holiday season came longer shifts to pay for the gifts the kids asked for. Caleb wanted a new skateboard; duct tape no longer held the old one together. Demi begged for headphones, the nice wireless kind, and her own makeup. According to her, she’s old enough to wear it now and would prefer to not share with her tanner sister. Roe disagreed, but somehow an eye shadow palette ended up under the Christmas tree anyway. River babbled nonsense louder in front of certain trucks and cars in the store when Roe carried him on her hip while she shopped for the others, so at least his gift was simple to find.

After the past couple of years, Lucas and Aaron no longer gave requests for Christmas gifts. They joined Roe in her extra hours at random jobs, helping to put food on the table a smile on the younger kids’ faces. It didn’t mean either of the boys ended up without a new shirt and pack of cigarettes of their own, though. It wasn’t much, but the sentiment was there, they all knew it, and that was enough.

So, yes, Roe thought, it had been months since she went out with Sara. But being a Wednesday meant the school run duty fell on her for the next morning. And Demi participated in her first soccer practice on Saturday. Sara understood every time when Roe had to cancel plans because one of the kids was sick, someone had to watch River, or her work schedule just didn’t fit with Sara’s. It’s one of the things that made her the perfect best friend.

“I’m sorry, Sara, I’m really busy this weekend. Another time?” Roe tried to keep herself as vague as possible, knowledgeable of the fact that Harry still stood so close.

Sara protested minutely to Roe’s refusal, but eventually receded and allowed Roe to carry on with her work. Harry planted his feet only a few meters from her and observed the way she twisted a wrench here, replaced a small part there. He knew none of the names to any tool or part she used, but her grace and strength with each movement captivated him. He hoped her work enraptured her enough that his stare went unnoticed.

#harry styles #hs #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine

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arvinsescape · 3 years

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Stupid waiters

A/N: Hope you enjoy.

Summary: Tom had a special evening planned and the waiter tries to ruin his mood.

Warnings: Bit of swearing.

W/C: 2.1K

Tom was incredibly annoyed as he watched the waiter flirt with you. He’d just come back from filming and he had a special evening planned with you but this guy was ruining that plan and his mood. You hadn’t noticed or if you had you hadn’t said anything. He watched as the waiter placed your drink in front of you and flirt very obviously (in Tom’s opinion) with you and he didn’t even spare Tom a glance. He huffed as the waiter walked away.

“You okay?” You asked him as he clenched his fist under the table.

“That guy is pissing me off.” He mumbled.

“Why?” You asked with furrowed brows and he scoffed lightly.

“Y/N, he is all over you.” Tom pointed out.

“Is he?” You asked looking genuinely curious, you hadn’t noticed.

“It’s so obvious!” Tom almost raised his voice.

“Tom, calm down.” You laughed lightly. “I’m here with you and I think that’s pretty obvious. I’m not interested.” You said as you reached your hand across the table that he gladly took as you laced your fingers together. He felt his annoyance wash away, you were right and this was a special night. You were here with him and he knows you love him, there’s not a second that’s gone by where he doubts that.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He muttered and you squeezed his hand lightly.

“It’s fine. A little jealousy is healthy, I’ve been guilty a couple of times.” You laughed.

The main course arrived and although the waiter was continuing to flirt a little Tom found himself only slightly irritated now. That was until the waiter cleared the mains and offered a desert menu.

“Can I interest the lady in a desert, I’m sure I can recommend one as sweet as you.” Tom’s blood was boiling now and he watched as you cringed at the god awful pick up line.

“I don’t know, baby do you want one?” You asked Tom as you put emphasis on the nickname. That’s right dickhead, she’s not interested, she’s mine Tom thought and instantly cringed at his internal thought. You weren’t some toy he could lay claim but he was pissed with this guy.

“Yeah, we’ll have a look.” Tom answered as he watched the waiter visibly deflate as you made it clear you were here with him. He couldn’t help his smirk as he waiter wandered off for a menu.

“Okay, fair play. He’s pretty obvious.” You laughed.

“I don’t get it, you’re clearly here with me. Why is he carrying on?” Tom groaned as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I must just be irresistible.” You teased as you brought your glass to your lips.

“You are.” Tom said in such a matter of fact manner that you snorted.

“Lighten up. It’s not like it’s gonna work.” You playfully rolled your eyes.

“That’s not the point.” Tom said as the waiter returned with the menu. He eyed your almost empty glass.

“Another drink for the lovely lady?” He asked and you politely accepted and Tom nearly swung for the guy. He’d stepped up his flirting now from when you’d first arrived. Tom clenched his jaw at the interaction and he felt you smooth your thumb over his hand that was still on the table.

“It’s Y/N by the way, if you are going to insist on calling me anything it should be by what most people that aren’t my boyfriend do.” You said in a polite but stern way. He knew you weren’t one for conflict but he appreciated that you were reminding this dickwad that you weren’t interested.

“Y/N? That’s a beautiful name.” The waiter said with a wink and Tom nearly blew his stack, face going red with anger as he clenched his jaw so hard he worried he might crack his teeth.

“Erm, thanks.” You said awkwardly. The waiter smirked and Tom swears he saw his eyes drift towards him for a second before he left.

“Tom, calm down it’s okay. Don’t let it ruin your mood.” You tried to calm him down. “I love you okay and I’m here with you. I love you.” You smiled at him and he returned a tight lipped smile as he tried to regain control of his anger. He was calming himself until the waiter returned and just seeing him made Tom’s blood boil.

“Any desert?” He asked as you gave him your order, Tom hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“We’ll take the sticky toffee pudding and two spoons.” You answered for the both of you as you watched Tom shift in his seat. The waiter glanced at Tom for a second, smirking before he spoke.

“That desert is a lovely choice. Very sweet.” He said and he put so much emphasis on the words that Tom knew now he was trying to wind him up. Your hand found his as you squeezed again in a failed attempt at calming him down.

“Are you serious?” Tom said through gritted teeth as the waiter looked at him in fake innocence and Tom could have ripped his head off there and then for ruining his mood and plan.

“Apologies I didn’t mean to offend.” He said before walking away and Tom ran his hands through his hair messing it up slightly.

“I swear if he carries on I’m gonna hit him.” Tom grumbled and you gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry Tom. We’ll go after this.” You said and he huffed.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m letting it get the better of me. I don’t mean to.” He said, had it been any other night he’d probably have contained his anger and annoyance better.

“No Tom, he’s being inappropriate. I’d be upset if I were you.” You smiled at him. You wanted to make him feel better as you watched the waiter return with your desert and although it was slightly inappropriate in such a lovely restaurant you found yourself standing up and Tom watched you with furrowed brows. You smiled at him as you made your way round to him and sat on his knee as you turned his face to look at you and connected your lips in a sweet kiss. One of his hands instantly finding your waist and the other holding your cheek.

Tom could swear he heard the waiter scoff as he walked away and you disconnected your lips as you smiled at him.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips and he grinned.

“I love you darling, thank you.” He watched as you made your way back to your seat and he found his anger washing away a little at the gesture you’d made. He really did love you.

You ate your desert and it was actually very sweet as the waiter had said and you both enjoyed it. When he cleared the plate, looking much more deflated than previously you asked for the bill. When he brought it back, Tom got his card out to pay and the waiter made the grave mistake of bringing up one of Tom’s insecurities.

“At least he pays, I suppose it makes up for all those nights he leaves you alone.” The waiter said to you in a jokey manner and you visibly gulped. Of course this man knew who Tom was, he’d booked it under his name and who didn’t know who spiderman was? You watched as Tom snapped his head towards the waiter and his face was red with anger.

“Pardon?” Tom spat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you but I assume when you film all these movies you leave her alone. I’m just reminding her that not all men would do that, you know, some men would be there all the time.” He fired back as he crossed his arms over his chest. Was this guy trying to lose his job?

It didn’t matter what you said, Tom always worried that he was neglecting you when he had to leave. Of course, you didn’t see it this way and told him so all the time, he didn’t have to be with you physically to be there for you and he proved that all the time. This guy had no idea what he was talking about. You felt your jaw drop at his rudeness and complete brazenness. He would not be coming back here to work ever again. You made you way over to Tom as you grabbed his tense bicep in your hands.

“Tom, leave it. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, he doesn’t know what you do for me or a single thing about our relationship. He’s not worth it.” You said as you tried to get him to calm down, that wasn’t happening.

“I have watched you throw yourself at my girlfriend in an embarrassing manner tonight. She made it clear she wasn’t interested and you persisted, which by the way, is wrong whether she is in a relationship or not. I will be reporting you to the manager of this place for your rudeness. Thank you for ruining my fucking evening!” Tom shouted at him as he made his way towards the exit.

You were dumbfounded for a second as you heard him shout. Sure, Tom had put people in their places before but this must have really bothered him, it took a lot to make him shout. You scrambled after him and had to almost run to catch up.

“Tom. Tom!” You shouted as you tried to get him to slow down. When he turned around you could see his bloodshot eyes and as you reached him you saw the tears brimming them. You placed your hands on his face and made him look you in the eyes. “Tom, forget what he said. You are there for me all the time. I know you go away to film but that’s okay, I’m happy for you to pursue your career, you deserve it, you’re so talented. Tom, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you don’t have to be there physically to be there for me. I love you and I don’t want anyone else.” You said and he sighed, looking down.

“It’s not just that. He ruined everything. I had this whole evening planned and I was gonna ask you to marry me and then he reminded me that you deserve better.” Tom rambled through his tears and you felt the breath get knocked out of you. He was what?

“You were- Tom what- you were gonna what?” You stammered out as you felt your heart rate increase. Tom must have realised what he’d said and he snapped his eyes to yours.

“Shit. I wasn’t meant to say that. I’m sorry.” He stuttered out before he took a deep breath. “Look I was gonna ask you to marry me tonight and he just-“

“Yes.” You interrupted him and he looked at you for a second, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You said as tears made there way down your face, all happy, and he grinned.

“Really?” He asked as he fished around in his jacket pocket.

“Tom, I love you, you get me on a level no one, not even my family, ever has before. Of course I’ll marry you. No stupid waiter who doesn’t know what he’s talking about is gonna change that.” You laughed as he grinned and took the small box from a pocket in his jacket.

“At least let me do it properly.” He said as he got down on one knee, taking your hand in his. “Y/N. I know I’m not always here physically but I will always be there for you, wherever I am in the world. You make me a better person and I couldn’t be more thankful for you. You always push me to do better and you are my rock and I hope I can always be that for you. I promise I will always try and reciprocate the insane amount of love you give. I love you. So, Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” He asked and tears of happiness where finding their way down both of your cheeks.

“Yes, I love you so much.” You cried as you lunged yourself at him, almost catching him off guard as he only just caught you in a hug. You loved Tom and he was everything you wanted, needed and more.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Out Of Commission

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After being severely injured on a case, Reader needs to take it easy, and she finds a creative way for Spencer to make her feel better. Category: Smut 18+ (male masturbation, dirty talk - mentions of fingering, penetrative sex, overstimulation and multiple orgasms) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 1.9k (she’s a short one, but hella spicy, so I hope that makes up for it lol)

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

***

The first week was okay. She was resting and taking it easy, as she should, but by the second week of sitting in bed or on the couch, with extra coddling from her boyfriend and her family and her friends, Y/N was growing restless.

It's not like she didn't enjoy or appreciate the constant affection and nice gestures from Spencer in particular, but she wanted something different, something she knew he would refuse in fear of tearing her stitches or irritating her wounds.

Why did serial killers have to be so goddamn inconvenient?

It didn't help that Spencer was at her house almost every night. He'd offered to take the couch a few times, but Y/N dumbly insisted he stay in her bed with her, hoping his presence would bring her comfort. And to some degree it did, of course, but more often than not Y/N found herself wanting nothing more than to wrap herself up in him and kiss him until they both fell asleep. And sometimes that did happen, though Spencer was careful to watch where he placed his hands, pulling his body away from hers almost completely at times so he wouldn't hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

Even though it was obvious to the two of them that they both wanted more, it was just too dangerous, and Y/N needed to heal properly.

One night she was sitting in bed, watching a movie she'd already seen about twenty times, about ready to turn it off when Spencer walked in, a bag of Red Vines in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"I thought you might want a snack," he said with a smile as he brought them over, leaning down and giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N turned off the TV and shrugged. She opened the water bottle as Spencer climbed into bed next to her. He remained on top of the covers, leaning his back against the headboard and turning his head to look at her.

"I'm alright," she answered after taking a drink of water. "Nothing hurts. I'm just bored."

He placed a hand on her knee over the comforter and snuggled just a little closer. "If anything starts to hurt, let me know. I'll get you your medicine."

Y/N smiled up at her boyfriend and leaned forward to kiss him, saying, "thank you," before their lips met. It was a small, sweet kiss, but after they pulled away, Y/N went in for another, bringing her hand up to lightly brush Spencer's cheek. He kissed her back softly, his hand massaging her knee with the same tenderness.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth carefully when their lips parted, and his hand squeezed her knee a little harder. But he didn't pull away, so she took that as a good sign. She could feel herself getting more excited as his hand slipped up her leg through the comforter to grip her thigh, so she sighed into his mouth and brought her hand down to run over his torso, using her nails to lightly scratch him through his shirt.

His grip on her thigh tightened when she slipped her hand under the tee shirt, bringing it around his waist to pull him closer to her.

"Wait, Y/N," Spencer said, pulling away from her completely. She pouted when she looked at him and he looked just as disappointed as she was. "We... We can't. You're not healed properly, and it's not safe right now. We should stop."

Not completely willing to give up yet, she leaned her head down onto his shoulder, snuggling up to him and pressing a kiss to his neck as she guided his hand to his lap. Right over the bulge she knew would already be forming.

"Well... Just because I'm out of commission doesn't mean you have to be... Don't you want to feel good?"

She gripped his hand tighter and ran it over his dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. "How long has it been since you touched yourself, hmm?" she whispered into his ear, taking it softly between her teeth for a moment as she continued to guide his hand.

Spencer's breathing picked up and he shifted a little. She could feel him swallow before answering. "Um... A-about a month? And a half?"

"So... not once since I've been injured? Baby..." She made it a point to sound as sorry as she could, continuing to kiss his neck and leave little licks and bites that would surely leave marks. "I know I can't really physically help you, but... What if I kept talking? Hmm? Would you like that?"

She felt his breath hitch when her hand left his and grabbed his chin to face her. She could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to take control. But she was, in fact, out of commission, and no matter how much they both wanted it, this was the next best thing.

Y/N ran her thumb along his lower lip as she softly bit her own, her eyes completely lost in his. "Let me help you feel good, baby... Please..."

Once she pulled out the begging, he was done for. And they both knew it.

Spencer gave in, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand as he shifted, lifting his hips off the bed to slide down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his dick. Y/N smiled and started kissing his neck again, using one of her hands to gently graze her fingernails up and down his stomach and chest under his shirt.

She watched intently as his hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb occasionally swiping over the tip and smearing precum over it. "Mmm, I missed seeing your cock, baby," she spoke softly into his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to it every so often in between words. "I love watching how good you work it... So nice and slow... And your hand... God, it's so hot seeing you use your hands..."

Spencer let out a small whine as Y/N started sucking on his neck, her hand paying careful attention to his nipples under his shirt. His hand moved a little faster, and she smiled against him.

"Tell me... If you could fuck me right now, what would you do to me?" she whispered in his ear, using her unoccupied hand to play and tug at his hair as she watched him jerk off.

He didn't answer for a few moments, concentrating on working his dick and being caught up in the way she felt him up, his breathing a little ragged.

"Hmm?" she pressed, tugging harder on his hair, and he whimpered.

"I... I'd want to take you f-from behind," he choked out honestly, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued his ministrations.

Y/N laughed softly, kissing his jawline. "Mmm, I love when you fuck me from behind... Especially over the counter. I love feeling your pretty fingers dig into my hips as you just pound me into the cold marble..."

His noises got a little louder as she kissed down his throat and neck, moaning into his skin as she did so. "Fuck, I miss having your cock inside me, baby... I miss it so much, you always know how to fuck me so good..."

At this point she was absolutely worked up, her pussy clenching around nothing as she slowly laid out these filthy images for her boyfriend. It was frustrating to say the least, knowing she couldn't do anything about it without potentially hurting herself. She thought about slipping a hand under the covers and masturbating with him, but truthfully she wasn't sure how it would affect her healing. Even sitting up this long, her torso slightly twisted so she could lean into Spencer's body and help him out was starting to take its toll.

So, she tried her hardest to ignore what her lower half was feeling and laser all her attention onto her boyfriend, who was dangerously close to finding release. She watched as his hand moved, lost in the soft, wet sounds of his quick movements mixing beautifully with his whines and moans. "Y/N, I... Fuck," he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

She nodded, softly rubbing her thighs together as she kissed his neck and watched his hand. "I know, baby... What do you want, hmm? The first thing you want to do to me as soon as I'm all better..."

"I... I want... I want to finger you... I wanna feel your legs clench around my hand while I finger you from behind."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh against his neck, licking and sucking at it again. "Mmm, you would like that, wouldn't you? To feel me cum on your fingers? Shaking around them while I yell out your name?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes," he managed through a moan.

She hummed into his skin, noticing how heavy his breathing was getting. Since he was close, she put extra performance into her words, taking the time to say each one slowly, and with just the right amount of softness and innocence in her tone.

"And then, even after you've made me cum, I'd bet you'd love to keep fucking me... Only this time you'd want to see my face, because you'd love to make me cry from fucking me so hard... You'd love seeing mascara run down my face, hearing how whiny I am, begging you to stop because it's too much..."

Spencer leaned the side of his head against hers as his breathing picked up. "Shit," he breathed, his voice shaky.

"And you'd love to wipe the tears from my face as you fuck me even harder, telling me to take it like a good girl..."

That was all it took for him to finally finish. Y/N was prepared, lifting up his shirt so that he could cum mostly on his stomach. She moaned right along with him, using her other hand to stroke his jaw as he came. She watched with wonder and adoration as the thick, white substance landed in perfect splatters all over his stomach.

His hand slowed to a stop once he was finished, and Y/N pressed a soft, sensual kiss to jaw, right before turning his face to meet hers. He kissed her lazily, their tongues both colliding with soft strokes that grew heavier on Y/N's part until Spencer pulled away.

She whined at the loss of contact, and he laughed softly. "You didn't really think this through, did you?"

"Uh-uh," she replied with another whine, burying her face in his shoulder.

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She still held his shirt up to his chest so it wouldn't get messy, so he sat up off the headboard a little and pulled it all the way off, tossing it to the floor. "I gotta get cleaned up. Maybe when I'm done we should get you into a cold shower."

She stuck her tongue out at him before an idea struck her. Spencer was about to get up, but she grabbed his arm. "Wait. Let me help."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop her when she brought her fingers to his stomach, scooping up some of his cum and bringing it to her lips, smearing it there for a moment before cleaning it all off. She looked him in the eye the entire time, though that clearly gave away how frustrated she still was that she couldn't get herself off.

"That didn't help you at all, did it?" Spencer mused.

Y/N pouted. "No..."

He kissed her on the head again before getting out of bed. "I'm gonna go run you a shower, okay? How cold do you want it?"

"Very cold."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Scared to Love

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: You go from being best friends, to friends with benefits, to strangers with JJ Maybank. You tried your best not to fall in love with your best friend, but how could anyone not love the infamous Pogue?

Note: Sorry, I really suck a summaries. But I wanted to post something outside of my OBX rewrite so I hope you like it(:

Word Count 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and divorce.

The beach is loud with teenagers holding red solo cups and cheering on their friends as they compete to out drink one another. The sky is dark and glittered with bright stars, but the night is still young, filled with both promises and threats. It’s another typical Friday night, surrounded by friends and strangers alike. You usually thrive at these kind of parties - the queen of beer pong, the hot girl dancing in the middle of the crowd like no one’s watching. You attract attention from all Outer Banks social groups - Pogues, Kooks, and Tourons. But now...

Now you wish you could hide from all of it.

If it were up to you, you would be at home, locked away in your room, watching Nicholas Sparks movies until you were no longer capable of crying. But lucky for you, you have best friends who don’t allow you to wallow in self pity. Sure, they let you cry on their shoulder, they rub your back, and tell you everything’s going to be okay. They compliment you. They tell you that you’re gonna go far in life and that you don’t need any man to make you feel like you deserve the world. But they also make sure that you don’t stay in your dark place. They would drag you out of there by your teeth and skin if they needed to. At the time, you can be pissed about it, but you learn to love them for it.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once tonight.” John B walks up to you and offers a teasing smile. He moves to stand next to you, shoulder to shoulder, as you look out into the depth of the party from the edge.

“I’m trying to find a reason to,” You answer honestly. Your eyes stay trained on the blonde Pogue with a cute redhead wrapped in his arms. They’re swaying to the beat of the music that plays loudly through someone’s portable speaker. They both look happy, and the sight of it makes you physically nauseous.

John B follows your stare and sighs when he sees what’s got you so down. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two -”

“It doesn’t matter.” You sip on your now lukewarm beer and tear your eyes away from the happy couple, or whatever they want to call themselves.

“It does,” John B says, making you look at him. “Because I can’t be in the same room as my two best friends anymore. I mean, seriously, what happened? Did you guys have a fight or something?”

You gnaw at your bottom lip and flick your gaze down at the sand. What you and JJ had was different than what you have with the rest of your best friends. The two of you have always been the closest. Your friend group first started as just you, JJ, and John B. John B always felt like the brother you never had. You loved and fought like siblings usually do. He told you the cold hard truth even when you didn’t want to hear it. You loved him, but not like you loved JJ. You were always aware of the way your heart swelled when JJ laughed, or how your skin tingled when he touched you, or how your chest tightened when he would come back to the Chateau and brag to everyone about his most recent hookup from the night before. The blonde held a special place in your heart that no body else could replace. Not even now.

It all started when you and JJ were left alone at the Chateau for an entire night. John B was somewhere else - probably with Sarah Cameron, who knows. JJ had come from another run-in with his dad and asked that you stay with him because he didn’t want to be alone. The two of you ended up getting high off of JJ’s good stuff. You think it was the most you ever smoked in your life. The two of you ordered pizza, and laughed at dumb youtube videos. For a few hours, you forgot that JJ had an abusive father or that you were caught between a custody battle with your own parents.

You don’t remember how or when it happened, but the air grew thick with tension and neither of you were laughing anymore. You remember looking into his blue eyes, the color of the ocean, which you always said fit the surfer perfectly. Next thing you know, his lips are on yours - softly at first, then into a rhythm that most resembled an insatiable hunger. He took you into the room he claimed as his, and then....and then he claimed you.

You woke up first that morning. Your stomach swirled with some kind of emotion you couldn’t exactly pin when you looked over at JJ’s bare back as he slept on his stomach. Maybe it was excitement, joy, bliss. Or maybe it was dread, guilt, fear. It wasn't a secret that you and relationships...well, they never ended well. You never stayed long enough to catch serious feelings for the other person. Kie seems to think it’s due to the disastrous relationship your own parents had, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. Your parents spent the second half of your life tearing each other down, competing over who was able to hurt the other one more. You spent a lot of nights hiding under your covers as if that would protect you from your mothers screams or glasses breaking from your father’s rage. You saw what loving someone could do to people. Loving someone can make you hate someone.

And you didn’t want that to happen with JJ. You knew you were already in too deep. You became a bubbly school girl whenever he came around since you were ten. But you refused to let you and JJ become like your mom and dad. If you wanted to keep JJ around, you we’re going to have to keep him at a distance.

You knew you should have stopped it after the first time, but JJ was like a magnet you couldn’t detach yourself from. You both made a silent agreement that this would be a no strings attached situation. So off the books that even your closest friends didn’t know about it. At first it was fun and harmless - each of you got what you were craving the most, whether it be the comfort of the other person’s company or the high only that person could give the other. But inevitably, lines started to blur. You found yourself staring at your phone on days you didn’t spend together, wearing his hoodies just to feel closer to him because it hugged you in his scent, staying latched to his side at boneyard and Kook parties. You didn’t know if he felt the same way, and you didn’t let yourself find out. You put space between yourself and the infamous Pogue, only showing up in the middle of the night once a week instead of three to four. You tried talking to Tourons at parties - never going home with them but always having them as a back up option. You chose the seat furthest away from him during lunch at The Wreck, and made up excuses as to why you couldn’t go surfing with him in the early mornings. Slowly, you tried to go back to the way things were, but the further you separated from JJ, the greater the crack in your heart became.

Surprisingly, it was JJ who cut things off completely on a night you wanted to use to take your mind off the latest fight between your parents. Even with your father moved out of your family home, the screaming matches never stopped, and now they were trying to use you to pick sides. In the end, JJ did take your mind off your own family, but never in the way you expected him to.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” he told you as he slowly lifted your arms away from his shoulders.

“What? Why?” You looked at him with a tilted head and narrowed eyes. Your breathing became static and shallow, like you were on the verge of a panic attack.

“Because this was a bad idea, and it’s not healthy - me using you to forget about my dad, you using me to forget about your parents -”

“Using you?” You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “You think that’s all this is?” “Why did you come over here? Why today? Why right now?”

You clenched your teeth together and looked away from the boy who was now staring at you with a look that resembled pity. You wanted to tell him that sex wasn’t the only reason you find solace in his company. He made you feel safe and happy. He made you forget about the world’s problems with his jokes and stories. He made you laugh harder than anyone else could dream ever could. JJ is the first person you think of when you wake up and the person you dream about at night. But you couldn’t tell him this. Because that would mean admitting your stronger feelings for him. That would mean possibly destroying the relationship you already have with him,

Little did you know, not answering him would do the same thing.

“Fine,” You swallow back your tears and turn away to leave. You couldn’t stay here, standing in front of him for another second. Your felt embarrassed and ashamed. Like you had made a mistake that you can’t take back.

“Y/N -” JJ tried calling out to you, but you ignored him and slammed the door behind you.

You down the last of your beer and shake the empty cup. Ignoring John B’s question you walk past him. “I need another drink.”

John B shakes his head with frustration. Rolling his eyes he says, “He asks about you all the time. Talks about you non stop but won’t tell me why he won’t just call you up himself. And I don’t know what to tell him because by shutting him out, you’re shutting me out too.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and look down at the sand covering the toes of your sneakers. You hate that what John B said is true, and you hate even more that you don’t know how to fix it without seeing JJ Maybank. And you’re just not ready for that.

You didn’t see JJ turn his head at the sound of his best friend’s rising voice. No one in the crowd seemed to recognize the tension only a couple feet away, but he did. He watched from afar, noticing the space between you two and how stiff your bodies are. His heart tore into two, knowing he was the reason for their dispute. But he didn’t know what to do or how to fix it.

He thinks about you everyday, contemplates calling you up, or going to your house and apologizing personally. He misses you. He never meant to hurt you. But...he had to think of himself. And staying with you was killing him slowly. Because he knew you wouldn’t give him what he always dreamed of. A lifetime with you as his partner in crime. The love of his life. The mother to his children some day.

But everyday without you felt like another year had been tacked onto his life. Sometimes he thinks he’d rather just live through the heartbreak than never having you at all.

“You know what?” You say, “This was a bad idea. I’m just going to go.”

John B doesn’t stop you. He just watches you walk away. He bites his tongue because he knows whatever he wants to say in anger will only mask how he really feels - which is pity and sadness. Because he know something is is going on with you and he can’t help you - not until you let him.

“Leaving so soon?” A certain voice makes you stop in your tracks on the edge of the beach where people have parked their cars.

You squeeze your fists together to stop your hand from shaking and take three deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You slowly turn to look at him and suck your bottom lip in between your teeth. He looks the same. Shaggy blonde hair, beautiful tan skin, sparkling blue eyes. Although, he looks sheepish with his hands tucked into his cargo short pockets and his eyes narrowed in your direction. He looks sad. But that doesn’t make sense because he broke it off with you.

“I guess I’m just not in the party mood tonight,” You respond. JJ takes note of how empty your voice sounds.

“Y/N Y/L/N not in the party mood?” JJ tries to joke. “That’s unheard of.”

“What are you doing, JJ?” You ask impatiently. The longer you look at the boy you...well...the boy you don’t want to love, the harder it is to breathe. “Don’t you have a girl to entertain? She’s pretty, clearly into you-”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” You play dumb.

JJ sighs. “Look, I understand if you’re mad at me or something -”

“I’m not mad,” You deny with a shrug. “We fucked around for a little bit and then you moved on-”

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like what he had meant nothing -“

“Well did it? Mean anything?” You narrow your eyes and take another step closer to him. “Because from what you said, I was only using you! And you were only using me. That’s what you said!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I -”

“What did you mean then?” You challenge him. You feel your eyes heat up with fresh tears and no matter how many times you try to blink them away, they threaten to fall. You feel a red blush rush up your neck as you look deep into his eyes, remembering the shame you felt that night. You never meant to make him feel like that’s all he was to you - a distraction or a quick fuck. He was still your best friend. And you ruined that, and there’s no one else to blame but yourself. Yet here you are, yelling at him because it was easier that way.

“I never meant for any of this to happen. I just - I just wanted my best friend back!”

You take a step back and look at him like the blonde just grew two heads. “I never left. I was there the entire time. You’re the one that ended things.”

“Because I loved you!” JJ yells at you, rendering you absolutely speechless. His words ring over your head like a chime, dancing beautifully through your ear drums. Despite his outburst of admittance of affection, he glares at you because how could you be so stupid not to see it?

“What?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and your own scowl is gone.

JJ runs his hands through his disheveled hair and curses to himself. “Fuck, Y/N, I loved you. I still love you. But I know how you feel about relationships and love and -” JJ sighs. “I didn’t want to lose you, but my god, it was killing me that I was giving my all and you would never -”

You feel your feet moving forward despite your brain and thoughts freezing completely.

You didn’t know how to feel. You just knew you needed to be near him. You wanted to feel his heart beat against his chest and his breath on your skin. You wanted to look him dead in the eyes and read his brain like an open book. You just wanted to be near him and somehow show him that you felt the same way.

Your hands cup his jaw to make him look at you. He looks pained - like a boy who had just been punched in the gut by his worst enemy, and it killed you to know you were the cause of it. You didn’t mean to. Little did he know you felt the same way. It was the reason you distanced yourself from him in the first place. You loved him. Fuck, you loved him so much. But you were scared. You didn’t want to end up like your parents. You’d rather die than learn to resent the blonde Pogue in front of you. But by trying to save your relationship, you ended up hurting yourself and JJ.

He keeps his eyes closed and tries to move his face out of your hands, but you stay strong and move even closer to him so that you’re chest to chest.

“I would.” Your voice is a whisper and your breath sends a rush of goosebumps down his neck. “Hey..” You whisper again and JJ opens his eyes to look at you. “I would. Because I love you too.”

JJ’s brows furrow. “What?”

“I was scared. I am scared.” You correct yourself. “I tried to turn it all off by distancing myself from you. I thought that maybe if I stopped -” You pause as a silent tear runs down your cheek. “I tried not to love you. God, I tried so hard. But I do, JJ. I love you so freaking much. But I’m terrified that -”

“Hey, hey.” As your hands fall, JJ’s go to your face to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “We’re not like them.” He reads your mind perfectly. He knows about your parents’ divorce and the mental damage it’s caused you. “We’ll never be like them. You hear me?”

“How do you know that?” Your voice cracks.

“Because if I’ve got you, what do I have to be miserable about?” JJ grins as you giggle. You turn your head to place a kiss against the palm of his hand, ripping open a set of flutters through JJ’s abdomen.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. And I won’t hurt you either. I promise.”

You sniffle and bite your bottom lip as a smile spreads across you face. “So, are we really doing this?”

JJ nods as he leans in closer to you and pulls your chin up. “Yeah. We’re doing this.” He leans down and kisses you gently at first, letting the fireworks spark throughout your entire body, then moves his lips more passionately against yours.

Neither of you knew, but from afar, your best friends were watching behind a couple of trees with open mouths and wide eyes.

“Oh my god!” Sarah jumps up and down like a school girl. She always knew you and JJ had something stronger than the rest of the Pogues but never said anything.

“I knew it,” Kie shakes her head with a smirk.

“It’s about fucking time,” John B wraps his arms around his own girlfriend and kisses the top of her head. “I was going to kill them.”

“What?” Pope looks between his two best friends with furrowed brows. “You knew about this all along?”

John B scoffs, “How could you not?”

“Even I had a feeling something was going on,” Sarah giggles.

“Why do they have to be so fucking stubborn?” Kie says.

“Should we...I don’t know...congratulate them or something?” Pope asks awkwardly.

Kie pats Pope’s shoulder as she walks past him to go back to the party. “Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, I’m not going near them until morning,” John B says and grabs Sarah’s hand to lead her back to the keg to get another drink. “In fact, we should just steer clear of the Chateau for the entire night.”

You still had a lot to learn, but not letting your parents’ divorce dictate your life was the best lesson you learned. They can take whatever they want from you, but they weren’t going to take away your relationship with JJ. Because he’s the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

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bokutosenpai · 3 years

Text

tell me what you guys think,, be gentle tho bc its my first time ;( -nikki

bokuto was a lot of things to you.

he was attractive. like a nickel to a magnet, your eyes always seemed to follow him. oh, how eye catching he was. how he always seemed to attract the sun, to angle just right as he basked in its glory. attractive, physically, yes but attracts attention too. attractive like his boisterous laughter. his boyish smile. like flies to fragrant fruits, you always seemed so enamoured by him. a simple hi and an attractive smile, you were a goner.

bokuto was kind. kind that he carries the books he sees you struggling with in the halls. so kind that he walks you to your next class, helping you even if his was the opposite way. kind, like in the movies where the protagonist saves the female lead from her boring life. that when he sees you eating alone in the school cafeteria, sits with you and talks to you about his day. like how he became your friend. the way he treated you and looked at you, was so overwhelmingly kind.

he was shy. shy when he said he liked you. telling you he doesn’t hope for you to return his feelings, but he really really really really had to tell you or else he would explode. shy like the kind of smile he gave you when you said you liked him too. shy like his red ears and fiddling hands. shy like your first kiss—hands cold and shaking, legs buckling over, hearts beating, faces flushed.

bokuto was soft. soft like the tufts of his hair, free of wax. his hand cradling yours softly. his soft smiles from across the room. his soft whispers of i love you for the first time. and his soft intake of breath when you said it back. how his hands softly cradles your head while kissed you. the soft music playing from your phone as you both eat lunch. soft like his head pats. soft like the pillows on his bed. how he gently lowers you to it, the quiet consents softly given, and that soft look in his eyes that never seemed to fade.

he was also rough. rough like the callouses rubbing against your skin. with teeth clashing, and lip biting. like an over ripe banana, your neck marked bruises and kisses. how you gripped his hair. the bites, and his rough breathing on your chest. the love you both made that night was rough, like how riding a horse without a saddle proved to be tough.

bokuto was also loud. loud in love, loud in anger. loud like his screams when he was frustrated. loud when he received news of him going pro. like the screams and chants of the crowd when he plays. loud like your hammering heart, following the beat of the drums in the stands. excited for him as you screamed to cheer him on. like the sound lacking in your shared apartment whenever he plays overseas. the loud vibration of your phone in your quiet home during the dead hours in the morning—the only time you two can talk with his busy schedule.

you were also loud. loud in missing him. like your crying as you felt him become distant, felt yourself become unimportant. loud like the tv showing a loud crowd around him. loud like the read text messages you sent him. even louder like the non-existent replies he gave you. loud like the remarks of your friends as they noticed you grow quiet.

the loudest though, was the worry.

but bokuto—he can be heartless. like ignoring your continuous stream of texts to him. the annoyed grunt you get when you do get a call answered from him. his tone when he said he was busy. how far away he felt from you, even when he returned home. heartless like how you prepared a birthday dinner for him—waiting for him to come home to you. until 2 in the morning. the candles burnt out. heartless when you saw the pictures of him out with friends instead.

he can be cold. cold like the stare you gave him when you saw him come home. cold like the food. colder when he looked at you—at the dinner you prepared, at the clock, and at the candles burnt through. he looked at you, clicking his tongue, saying how he forgot to mention that the team had planned something for his birthday. cold and insincere like the flimsy excuse he gave and the lack of apology in his voice. the way he said, i’m going to bed.

and it was hard. hard like your teeth biting your lip, blocking the loud sobs threatening to come out. it was hard falling asleep next to him. like you were invading someone else’s home. like you were an outsider. it was hard thinking that it may be true. harder to think he didn’t want you anymore. the hardest was keeping your sobs quiet, so you wouldn’t wake him.

and then it became worse, bokuto bacame worse. he would barely come home, barely called, barely texted you. you felt like he had already left you. and it broke you.

you missed bokuto. bokuto who stared at you in wonder. bokuto who held your hand like a gem. bokuto, who was too shy to even look at you in the eye when he confessed to you. your kind, soft bokuto. not this. this bokuto who barely acknowledges your presence. who barely texts you, barely comes home. who barely misses you, who barely loves you anymore.

bokuto ended it. it was like a quiet house with only the AC running, then it just stops. leaving a ringing in your ear. oh, how you wanted this to all be a dream. you confronted him then, telling him your feelings. how lonely you’ve been. bokuto scoffed when he heard that, lonely? that was your problem? you felt your heart breaking a little bit more when he said that. he provided for you, gave you a home, gave you comfort. you stay here all day long, he said. while he drags his body, feeling himself get weaker as the years fly by. do you think this was easy?

with clenched fists you screamed, i didnt say it was! face heated, eyes pooled with tears. all you asked for was a drop of his affection, an affirmation, some attention— just a glance for fucks sake!

‘who are you?’ you rasped,

bokuto ended it with barely any tears in his eyes. still standing proud and tall. how is this is so easy for you? you asked. like you didn’t just waste our entire lives, our future, our dreams—how?

bokuto looked at you—cold, heartless. suddenly you don’t want to know the answer.

bokuto with his golden eyes, oh how familiar, he looked at you. tired. don’t tell me you didn’t see this one coming? he said. not a question. just disbelief. you didn’t. you didn’t see it coming. even with the cold, you thought, hoped that your bokuto would come back. you retorted with, and you did?

you knew the answer, he didnt say anything— but you knew.

he didn’t love you anymore.

and that was the end of it. just like that. he packed, while you stayed rooted in your spot. afraid that you’ll run to him, beg him to stop. to lower yourself, to humiliate yourself even more, than he did you, just so you wouldn’t be alone.

he didnt say sorry, or whispered a last i love you like in the movies. instead, he said, i’ll go pick up my other things when you’re not here.

bokuto is a memory. a memory like parents fighting. bokuto is the pixie dream girl. where at the end, the girl leaves. talking about meeting later, whenever, wherever like how they’re fated to, no matter what. ending the movie hopeful.

bokuto was like that. but he just leaves.

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undercoverpena · 3 years

Text

Stood Up + Salads

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Words: 1.5k AN: Set with a S1 Diego but not S1 or S2 storyline. For a friend, you know who you are.

He didn’t need to look up when the door goes, he knows it’s you. Because when it rains, it pours.

Diego wonders if he should be more upset about his father, rather than being upset he’s had to see the others. Only for him to take his frustration out on you, consciously or not.

The fact you allow the door to meet the frame with such a loud thud is enough of a signal to him that you’re pissed.

Diego takes a second, thinking of his next steps as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, staring at the punching bag, as if it’s going to provide any answers on what he should do. How he could get out of this. Because if he plays this wrong, which he will, it’s going to spiral. Becoming so much worse than it already is.

A whole lot fucking worse.

And it’s already bad.

Hitting the bag once, twice and then thrice, he pays attention to your footsteps nearing. Not turning, not needing to see if your arms are folded, lips pursed and giving him one of you signature dead expressions. He knows you will be, because Diego fucking knows you and you know him.

And he hates it.

He despises that you know about his tick. About his family. About his upbringing, talent and everything else in between. He hates that you suggested calling off the meal before he did, and he hates himself for agreeing to go even if he knew he wouldn’t attend.

Because he’s decided he hates being happy.

He likes being miserable, likes fighting petty crime without anyone to come home to.

“Asshole.”

Rolling his head, he casts his eyes over you. Finding you exactly as he’s imagined. The only—slight—difference is the look in your eyes.

Sadness. A look which doesn’t suit you. One which stands out to him, because he’s seen it so rarely.

It swirls in your eyes, mixing with your usual shade, darkening them as they pin him to his spot. Or try to.

Letting his hands fall to his sides, he lets out a sigh before he can help himself. And the glare you send him is enough to force him to turn to face you.

When it comes to you, he isn’t sure if he hates how close you are to him physically or metaphorically; not sure if he dislikes it more that he wants to kiss you or let you love him.

“Hello to you too.”

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t deserve a hello.”

“Touché.”

“Surprised you know that word.”

“Under all this, I’m clever y’know?”

“Are you?” you snap, and you roll your lips together.

Those painted plump lips that’s kissed every inch of him. That he’s woke up dreaming about and gone to sleep pressed against.

“You’re angry—“

“Oh, I’m past angry, Hargreeves,” you says, tapping your foot on the gym floor. “I was angry when I was on my second glass, wondering where you were. I was fuming when I left, embarrassed and ready to hunt you down. Now, now I’m almost murderous.”

He hasn’t been called his surname in sometime. Hasn’t found himself in hot waters, with you at least, in sometime. Even angry, he feels your eyes rake down his frame, following a bead of sweat which falls from his neck down his chest and stomach.

Pulling the gloves undone with his teeth, snaps your eyes back up. And he finds himself smirking at you and his own foolishness simultaneously.

Because deep down he’s known this day would come, where you—like most—tired of him. Finding yourself irritated with his ways, of his selfishness and his impulsiveness.

“Let me have it then.”

He throws the gloves to the floor, shifting his weight as he notices the slight narrowing of your eyes. The way your lips twitch, whether a smirk or a smile, he can’t be sure. Usually, there’s less talking when you’re like this; usually you’re already pinned under him or against something. Now, you don’t even look at him like you’d welcome that.

Diego hates you for that too.

Despises that you have gotten under his skin, throwing him off his game. He’s dated. Well, since Patch they’ve not been constant. Real or permanent.

But you, you got to him. He still doesn’t even know how.

You don’t bend as easily, don’t surrender as you should. You fight him, sometimes tooth and fucking nail, and fuck, he doesn’t hate that about you. He loves that. He loves it when you steal the wind from his sail; when you cut him down. You don’t pander to him, you call him out, and he needs that even if he can’t admit it.

He even doesn’t mind that you sooth the insecurity, recognising when enough is enough. Halting anything before it goes too far, leaves too many wounds. You make him want to try to be a little better, even if he fails most days.

“No.”

“No?”

You snort. “No. Because if I rip you a new one, you’ll find some way to say sorry. And, then you’ll kiss me, and I’ll melt, and then you will forget that you’re an asshole.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Your jaw tenses, almost impossibly so. “For someone in your position, you have a lot of snark.”

“Be careful, you may hurt my feelings.”

Nodding, your lips twist before straightening to an unreadable expression again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m done.”

His muscles relax.

And his heart stops.

Yet Diego is somehow, not as surprised as he should have been.

Even if he looks at you, staring at your eyes and hoping to see a tease, a jest. He looks hoping you will change your mind, that he hasn’t successfully pushed another person away.

“Took you long en—“

“Im done talking,” you continue, cutting him off. Taking closer steps, slow ones, full of purpose as you dig your eyes into him. “I’m not gonna ask you to do right by me, I’m not gonna ask for an explanation why you decided to stand me up tonight. Hey, you don’t even have to talk to me.”

His forehead creases, flicking his eyes from your eyes to your mouth.

“Because I know why. You want me without the commitment, without the expectations of being a good person. You want a hole to fuck, so here I am, Hargreeves. You’ve got one.”

Fuck.

He stifles a sigh, especially as your finger press into his chest, nail digging down into the skin as you roll your lips and then he has to focus on not groaning. Especially when you bat your eyes lashes and smirk so condescendingly he wonders if you’ve been sent to test him.

“You want to pretend you don’t crave normal, that you don’t deserve it,” you continue, looking up at him, “I’ll play pretend. Hey, I’ll become the best damn actor in your movie you’ll ever know. But, I’m done talking.”

You place your other hand on his, moving his to your hip as you smirk.

“So, lights camera action, baby. Where do you wanna fuck me first?”

He feels your lips ghost over his. His hand clenching around your hip. Everything inside of him telling to just go with it, to not talk, to not burst open in front of you.

To kiss you.

To throw you down on the mats and not talk for hours.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

“No. No you’re not,” you says, full of sadness, your expression not changing to match your tone. “If you were, you’d have come to dinner. You’d have stabbed your fork into the salad before I’d have told you I want street food.”

You didn’t move, and neither does he. Your hand spreading over his chest, his hand still on your hip.

“You don’t let yourself enjoy anything, because what? Your dad was an asshole and your brother went to the moon?” You ask, head tilted. “Diego, I don’t give a shit if you’re number two, you’re number one for me. But you have to try. You have to try at least ten percent otherwise it’s just me, forcing you to be with me.”

He never feels forced. Not with you.

You’re sometimes the only thing which is good. Which isn’t fucked, tainted or ruined. You’re good, if not a bit too sweary and a bit too good at drinking. But, you’re… nice, and unwilling to let him settle.

“You’re m-my number o-one too.”

“Cool.”

“I mean i-it.”

“Nice.”

“Baby, c'mon?”

You sigh. “What, Diego?”

Diego. He’s Diego again.

He doesn’t smile, even if he wants too.

He doesn’t kiss you, even if he’s fighting every part of himself.

He just stares, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “I am sorry.”

“Salad at a fancy place too good for you?”

He smirked. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Good. Because it’s too fancy for me too.”

“So why we’re we even fucking going, baby?”

“Because,” you say, defiance in your tone, “it’s what normal people do. They don’t meet over a bad game of darts and several beers, and fuck on a boxing ring. They don’t fight a literal mugger with trained assassin-level knife skills a month after beginning to sleep together.”

Your shoulders sink, your expression softening. “They date, at restaurants who charge too much and hold hands across parks. And for a second, one tiny fucking moment, I wanted that for you. I wanted normal, meet-cute type romance before we grabbed whatever was in a cart and we fucked on my new sideboard.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’d have liked that.”

“You’d have loved that. But—“

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer, more meaningful, “I’m s-s-sorry. I really am.”

“I’m still mad.”

“That’s okay.”

“You owe me a fancy salad.”

Smirking, he nods. “Baby, I’ll give you a salad bar if you want it.”

“I don’t like salad.”

“No?”

“No.”

Smirking, he cups your cheek with more purpose. “What do you want then, baby?”

He watches your eyes darken. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed. You have a lot of making up to do.”

#diego hargreeves x y/n #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #diego #diego tua #tua ff #tua fanfic #tua diego #diego x reader #diego x you #tua diego x reader #tua diego fanfic

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 2)

Synopsis / Request: “Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again.”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Warnings / Misc: Smut (only in Pt. 1), Angst, Fluff

Here’s the second half of the request for you lovely peeps! Enjoy :)

Part 1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

◇◇◇◇◇

"Y/N, more people are arriving and management wants us to greet them. Something about photo ops." Jackson, your fellow lead, says as he pokes his head into your dressing room. His entrance intruded on your thoughts of the beautiful brunette that effectively stole your heart away within a night, leaving you completely at her mercy despite being worlds away.

"Alright, just give me a second." He nods and goes to stand outside your door -- you're expected to be seen together for a good portion of the night. Thankfully, though, Jackson is a good guy; he cares a lot about you, always doing everything in his power to keep you happy. The feeling is mutual; it's nice to have someone in your corner in an industry as unforgiving as this one.

"Ready?" You ask, opening the door after you've checked yourself in the mirror and smoothed down any unruly hairs or clothing. Looking presentable is a must tonight -- you can't appear as wistful as you've been feeling lately.

"Sure am." His answer is a bit unnecessary, seeing as how you asked a rhetorical question, but you send him a smile nonetheless. He offers you an arm, and soon the two of you are walking back towards the entrance of the building.

--------

Waves of flashing cameras greet you for the second time tonight, now capturing you in your full glammed-out look. The first time had been a few hours ago when your team arrived to begin setting up and get all of you ready.

The entire cast now stands stretched out in front of the large screen that will air the movie later, your arms around each other as you smile for the cameras. Promotional pictures shine behind you on the screen, serving as a perfect backdrop as they cycle through their predetermined slideshow.

Eventually, you all disperse to greet some guests.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Choi. It's wonderful seeing you again."

"I hope you enjoy our performances, Mrs. Lee. Your support has meant the world to us."

"Ah, Jeong! How've you been?"

Countless faces pass by as you work hard to greet everyone, knowing full well your company will be upset if you slack off now. It's everyone's big night, so they obviously can't have their leading lady stopping for even a minute.

You're almost ready to run to the restroom in order to have a moment to yourself, free of prying eyes and judgemental stares; but what you hear next sends a chill down your spine, an all too familiar ache in your chest.

It's Jennie. She's laughing that wonderful laugh of hers, taking you back in time to when you first heard it. Her members must've said something really hilarious, because all of them are doubled over, clutching their stomachs with laughter.

"Hey again," Jackson greets, and for a second you almost want to tell him to leave you alone. You don't, though, knowing you have no right to pull something like that.

"YG's girl group just got here. Do you want to say hello?" Of course you do. You want to run into Jennie's arms and spin her around, reveling in the way her arms would surely wrap around you in that warm embrace that's so uniquely hers. You want to tell her a stupid joke to make her laugh again, like she had just a few moments ago. You want to talk to her.

But you don't.

"No, not right now. I'm going to visit with my family, if that's alright with you."

"Sure, sure." He says considerately, unwrapping his arm from you. You press a friendly kiss to his cheek as a thank you, letting it serve as a goodbye as well.

"Eomma!" You shout, squeezing through the crowd when you spot her at one of the banquet tables lining the front of the room. The rest of the space is filled with rows of chairs, already set out for when the movie premieres.

"Ah, baby girl. We're so proud of you." She says, holding you in a tight embrace as tears spill from her eyes. Her arms bring you comfort like no other, and you're beyond grateful to have her here tonight. Some of your friends stand behind her, too, waiting for their turn to say hello.

Jennie watches you interact with them from across the room, and she feels a pang of sadness run through her. She's not naive to how these things work: your other cast mates had come over to greet her and girls, snapping pictures and even starting meaningful conversations in some cases -- all of that meaning you had been given the opportunity to do the same, but turned it down. Do you not want to see her? Maybe she had misjudged your night together. You are an actress, after all.

She shakes her head, physically willing the thoughts to go away as she turns her focus to whatever new person was talking to them now. She continues stealing glances in your direction, finding you looking somewhere else every time. She'd give just about anything to have you look at her, if only for a moment. Just a glance, she thinks to herself, praying the universe hears her pleas. They seem to fall on deaf ears, though, because before she knows it the MC is calling all of you onto stage and the guests are directed to their seats.

"Let's welcome the cast of Empress of the Heart!" The MC says cheerily, tucking his notecard underneath his arm in order to clap along with the audience. "They've spent months working hard for this project, travelling to filming locations in different countries, learning new languages, and facing their fears. We hope all of you thoroughly enjoy their performances. Now, I'll hand it over to our leads."

You and Jackson bow towards the audience, waving at them politely as they applaud you again. He looks at you, a silent question of if you want to speak first, and you nod. Taking the mic from him, you say, "Firstly, I'd like to thank our incredible cast and crew. They played just as important a role in this movie as Jackson and I, and we're endlessly grateful for their hard work." More cheers ring out at your kind hearted show of appreciation, and you speak up again once they've died down.

"These past few months have been some of the best of my life, and I owe that to people like you, and my fans. Thank you for taking a chance on me and supporting me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." You say sincerely, looking into the camera that's recording all of this for exclusive content. When the movie drops for the public in a couple weeks, they'll be able to buy this tape as well and see highlights from the premiere. The thought of your fans watching it from the comfort of their own homes, yelling praises at their screens, makes you smile.

Jackson takes over now, smoothly transitioning into his own mini speech of thanks. You stop your eyes from meeting the one pair that they so desperately want to, always keeping them trained on other parts of the crowd. If you allow your resolve to crumble, you'll get lost in her all over again and potentially screw up one of the biggest nights of your life. You can't take a risk like that.

You laugh at something Jackson says, some joke about how you had to face your fear of heights for a scene in the movie, and Jennie takes a deep breath. She's not exactly jealous, but yet that's precisely the feeling that creeps its way into her chest. She knows that you're avoiding her for some reason, but she has no idea why. Did she do something wrong?

--------

Why, why, did they have to sit Blackpink in the row right behind you? It's karmic, the universe's way of pushing you back to each other, but you don't know how to feel about it all. You can feel her eyes boring into you as each new scene plays, silently begging for you to turn around and talk to her, even if it's impolite to do so in the middle of a movie.

You don't, though, fighting every fiber of your being to keep yourself from giving in.

Despite the emotions that swirl within her that pay little mind to the number they're doing on her heart, she actually finds herself enjoying parts of the movie. It's bittersweet, seeing you up there, but you command the screen in a way that seems to steal all coherent thoughts from her brain. You're truly skilled, and she gets a kick out of watching you hide behind your hands in embarrassment when your co-stars offer whispered praises.

During one scene in particular, though, Jennie's eyes drop to the floor, her teeth clenched together tightly. Your character just saved Jackson's from certain doom, and the two of you are sharing a long-overdue kiss. The rest of the crowd lets out approving noises at this, but Jennie is comforted by her members' soft smiles and reassuring touches. You feel guilty, for some reason, knowing that anything you were a part of made Jennie so upset. It shouldn't matter, though -- I mean, it's not like you and Jackson are actually together -- but still, it hurts Jennie to see him kiss you and hold you in the ways she wants to.

The rest of the night carries on much the same, but later on, once you get enough courage to look for Jennie, she's gone. The other girls are too, and a sinking feeling settles in your chest. Gone -- again -- just like all that time ago. Your reasons for staying away from her were legitimate, but they felt nothing of the sort as you glanced around the crowd again.

The movie ended earlier, already getting good marks and reviews from the critics who came to view it, and now the "afterparty" of sorts was kicking in. You hadn't expected the girls to stay long after the movie, but you'd at least hoped to utter a word to them, if nothing else. A smile would've sufficed.

Realizing she's really gone, you let out a sad sigh and make your way down the hall, towards the large doors that lead to the balcony. If anything can clear your mind right now, surely it's a chilly breeze.

You lay an arm against the sturdy railing, leaning on it as you massage your neck. All of the stress you've been put under is showing in the form of painful knots, far too many to get rid of in one go. You sigh, letting your head lull forward and lay against your arm.

"And here I was thinking I wouldn't see you again."

At the utterance, you turn around to find her leaned up against the stone wall of the building with a playful smirk on her lips. She's back to her old self in an instant, but you can sense the undertones of nervousness in her voice.

The darkness of the night that envelops you two makes her eyes look even more feline -- even more alluring -- and it takes everything in you not to lose your train of thought.

"Jennie." Her name comes out as a pleased declaration more than anything else, a familiar flutter taking over your heart at the sight of her. It's a warm feeling in your chest, and you never want it to go away.

You try not to focus on the sensual swaying of her hips or the teasing look in her eye as she pushes herself away from the wall to approach you.

"I thought you left." You breathe out, remembering how sad you were earlier.

"Without getting you alone first? How could I?" The implication behind her words gives you pause, causing a blush to begin forming on your cheeks. You curse yourself for being so easy.

"I've missed you like crazy," she confesses, allowing herself to be vulnerable again. Now in front of you, she brushes the back of her fingertips against your cheek as you look into her eyes.

"I've missed you, too -- more, probably," you say, the declaration sounding like an embarrassed sigh as it leaves your lips. She smiles at that -- her genuine, gummy smile that you've missed so much -- and your heart flutters again.

She debates on asking the question that sits on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be answered. "Why didn't you greet me before, at the party?" Her voice is small now, insecure, as she avoids your gaze and stills her movements.

"I-..." you start, finding yourself at a loss for words. Should you tell her how you feel?

"I was afraid you'd throw me off my game. You're pretty distracting, you know?" You reply, nudging her shoulder playfully. A hint of a smile tugs at her cheeks, unsure if it should finish the job and turn into a big one.

"I thought I did something wrong." She informs.

"Not at all. In fact, you did things a little too right, if you ask me. I can't stay away from you, Jennie." Her heart trips and stumbles over itself in its pursuit of gaining a steady rhythm again, thrown off course by your words.

Growing brave, she suggests, "Go on a date with me, then. I wanna have more nights like that with you." She whispers that last part, ghosting her fingertips over your skin to awaken the memories.

"I'd like that," you smile, leaning in to kiss her lips. It's soft and gentle, much like your first one, and your heart hammers in your chest. It seems to forget that you've done this before, choosing instead to subject you to the giddiness you felt that first time with her.

She pulls back to rest her forehead against yours, settling her arms around your waist, saying, "I've wanted to do that all night." You smile for the millionth time because of her, happy with how things have turned out.

"Do it again, then."

And she does.

#jennie kim #jennie x reader #jennie x fem reader #jennie kim x fem reader #blackpink #blackpink angst #blackpink smut #blackpink fluff #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #kpop #kpop girl group #kim jisoo #lisa manoban #rosé #park chaeyoung #let-them-read-fics

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paperpocalypse · 3 years

Text

neodymium.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 49. You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out + 50. I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,572 words

Warning: Swearing, science applications that would probably shame your physics teacher

It’s starting to snow.

You keep your hand on the cold, metal cross bar, pressing down but unwilling to open the door. The thin, plastic bag in your other hand rustles as you twist it up in your fingers, pills rattling around in their bottles as you swing it back and forth. A frown tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Winter is here, and you don’t like it. You used to. But that was back then, when you were allowed to wear winter jackets and gloves and scarves and thick, fluffy hats to protect your ears from the biting cold. The snowflakes were a lot prettier when you didn’t have to feel them melt through your hoodie, cold and wet, every time you had to go outside.

Now you have to toughen up because heroes deal with the cold.

“Warm thoughts,” you mumble to yourself, gritting your teeth and pushing the door open. The bell jingles as a freezing slap of air greets your face. “Warm thoughts.”

You step out of the drugstore and into the night, pulling your hood on and tugging the drawstrings taut. The streetlamps light a path across the road and down the sidewalk towards home. At least it’s just a fifteen-minute walk.

For the past few years, on account of you attending the Umbrella Academy, you’ve never felt unsafe walking through the City alone. One of the pros of being trained as a hero, though you’re not quite sure if it outweighs the cons of Mom selling your warmest clothes and the grueling, rigid routine of training and missions during the week. The crime rate in this part of the city isn’t that high, anyway, on account of it being one of the nicer, richer areas. Mom had been delighted when the two of you moved here to be closer to the Hargreeves mansion. (The fact that your stipend’s now enough to fully cover it this year is even better.)

Arms crossed tightly over your chest, you press the crosswalk button with your elbow. Cars screech to a stop and honk at you to hurry up as the traffic lights turn red. You scurry across, legs stiff.

(Halfway there.)

But just because you feel safe walking alone doesn’t mean you like it. Being alone means that you have to deal with your thoughts without being able to share them, and it stinks. You prefer the nights when you sneak out with Klaus, buying a tub of ice cream from the drugstore and eating it outside the 24-hour café nearby until the owners shoo you away, or going to the movie theater with everyone when Sir Hargreeves is gone on a trip. You like walking home with Five or Klaus after your Mom started getting too tired to pick you up for the weekends.

Somberly, you step out into the street towards your apartment complex.

You like being part of the Umbrella Academy when you don’t have to think about being a hero …

BEEEEEEEEEEEP

As if in a dream, you turn your head toward the sound. Your bag falls gently to the ground.

It’s a car horn. Loud, deafening. Distorting, blurring. A car.

It’s not slowing down.

You should move.

You raise your hands instead.

The force hits you like a giant fist. Your blood burns hot as you push, and push, and push, jaw clenched so tight you think your teeth might shatter. The air is getting squeezed out of your lungs. The tires screech. The horn screams. They’re all you can hear.

Push! PUSH!

The pressure rises and rises –

And then it’s too much.

The fist shoves you back. Your back hits the ground.

You don’t even have time for last thoughts. But before you can catch one last glimpse of the tires that would dash your brains across the road, something grabs you, and the next thing you know, you’re somewhere else.

The engine roars, and the car speeds away. What’s left of your lunch promptly ends up on the ground next to you, and that’s when you start crying, nauseous and cold.

“Am I dead,” you choke out, eyes screwed shut. Whatever had grabbed you is still there; you can feel their weight on your shoulders. Your mouth tastes awful and sour and bloody. “Am I …”

“You’re not dead.” A breathless voice pierces through the fog in your head. It’s familiar, and close, and you pry your eyelids open to see –

You see Five.

His face is stiff and pale, his voice even, but as you blink away your tears, you see unbridled panic just beneath the surface.

“Shit. Shit,” he hisses as you close your eyes again, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why is Five here? How did he – “[Y/n], don’t close your – don’t go to sleep, for fuck’s sake …”

You do your best to listen as he shakes you a bit. Don’t cry. You’re okay, you’re fine … your … “My pills,” you slur out, hand feeling around for his arm so you can sit up. Looking at the road, you see the limp plastic bag, ghostly white against the dark asphalt. Your stomach roils again. “Ugh, I feel so sick …”

“I wonder why.” Five looks at you, mouth pressed into a thin, grave line, before blinking to the middle of the road to grab your things. He blinks back immediately. “Can you stand?” he asks tightly.

You swallow, wincing, and nod gingerly. You’re fine. “Yeah.”

The snow is falling harder now. Five helps you stand, and after a few minutes of regaining your bearings, the two of you slowly make your way up to your apartment. When you fumble with your key, Five takes it and unlocks the door himself.

“Couch or bed.”

“Bed,” you mumble as you scrape off your shoes. Thankfully, Mom isn’t home. You’d hate to have to explain all of this – she’s been so stressed lately …

The nausea is pretty much gone now, but the prickling fuzziness in your every limb remains. A little steadier on your feet, all you have to do is hold onto Five’s arm as you shuffle towards your bedroom.

“Get changed and wait here.” He fixes you with a steely gaze before disappearing. A few moments later, you hear the sink run, followed by the sound of the microwave opening and closing.

Is he mad at you? Biting the inside of your cheek, you take off your wet hoodie, putting it in your laundry hamper. Then you peel off your socks, and after closing the door, everything else that the snow had soaked through.

A few minutes after you change into your pajamas and settle onto your bed, Five knocks on the door, and you tell him to come in.

He hands you one of two mugs, this one filled with water. You take it. The other, filled with hot chocolate, is set on your nightstand.

“Are you mad?” Your voice is small.

Scoffing, Five glances away from you, a bitter smile on his lips. “I’m wondering what the fuck you were thinking,” he mutters.

“I almost did it,” you say. “That was the most I’ve ever done.”

“And you almost died.”

You look down into your mug. “It’s not that much different from a mission.”

“Actually, it is,” Five replies, his smile spreading – it doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s beyond ticked off – “because there are people looking after you during a mission. Who would’ve saved your ass if I hadn’t happened to be there? Nobody.”

“Maybe that’s what I needed,” you mumble, taking a sip of water.

Five narrows his eyes at you.

“What?”

You speak louder, a little indignant. “Maybe I needed to know that nobody could bail me out so I’d actually try.”

“You’re always trying!” he snaps. “Wanting to improve your ability doesn’t warrant a goddamn near-death experience, because as I’ve said before, you almost died!”

His chest is heaving when he finishes, and as you gape at him, startled by his loss of composure, you realize.

“I scared you,” you say, voice soft and wondering. “Didn’t I?”

Five just stares back at you. That is answer enough, but you set your water down anyway, stand up, and take his hand.

“Five?”

“I almost didn’t make it.” All the anger from before trickles out of his tone, and all that’s left is something quiet and uncharacteristically desperate. He clutches your hand until it’s almost painful. “That split second before I blinked, I thought …”

You step closer. “I’m okay now.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Okay.”

“Please,” he says.

“Okay,” you murmur, a lump in your throat. “I won’t.”

Five looks at you, searching. Then he closes his eyes and sighs a very old-sounding sigh, and as he does so, you lift your free hand to brush his cheek.

“Sorry,” he eventually murmurs, and you can tell, by the way he looks down and says it quietly, that he’s not quite used to using the word, “for shouting.”

You smile. “I forgive you. Sorry for scaring you.”

“You should be.”

“Aw. Hey.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Five.” Feeling very warm, you take his other hand, chuckling at the awkward look on his face. (Honestly, the two of you are a mess, aren’t you?) “I love you a lot. You know that, right?”

At your words, his eyes soften. You wonder if he knows.

“I know.”

“Okay. Good.”

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after-witch · 4 years

Text

Birthday Gift Part 2 (Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Title: Birthday Gift (Part 2) (Yandere Overhaul x Reader)

Synopsis: You finally get up the nerve to ask your captor for a special gift--a birthday gift. Continuation of Birthday Gift Part 1.

Word Count: 3053

Notes: Yandere, emotional manipulation

“Kai, there’s…” You struggle to find the words. You hadn’t exactly felt confident about your request before, but faced with his deceptively impassive gaze, it is difficult to muster the courage to even ask.

He raises his eyebrows, and waits for you to collect yourself.

You take a deep breath and fold your hands neatly in your lap. You start to feel prim, good–deserving, even, of what you’re about to ask for.

“I wanted to ask about my birthday…”

His expression brightens--well, you think it does. You like to think that you’ve gotten good at reading his face over the past few months, and it’s helped you navigate your more… difficult moments. Emboldened, you continue.

“I want to see my mom.”

The words come out fast and unsteady. You wish your tone had been stronger, but maybe he’ll like that you don’t seem too demanding.

“Just for a visit, I mean,” you continue, looking to the side. You’re afraid to see his response. “Not forever or anything.” You scrape the bottom of your lip with your teeth, a quick and nervous gesture. “I just want her to know I’m okay?”

You glance back at his face and see that he looks… contemplative. Not angry, which is a plus.

Then, he sighs--in resignation, you think. And the thought is enough to make your heart feel like it’s jumping as you practically chirp at him from across the table. “Oh, thank you thank you! I promise it won’t be for very long, and, and maybe we could--I mean you could meet her, you know? If you want to?” You trip and stumble over your words, because you hadn’t had time to rehearse any farther than your initial request. You never imagined you’d get his approval and--

“Absolutely not.”

Your face falls and a knot develops instantly in your stomach. “Oh.” Your teeth gnaw on your lip again. “I don’t understand?”

You feel your cheeks heat up in humiliation and disappointment and suppressed anger as you watch his face go from impassive to--and you’re sure of it, this time--disappointment.

“I thought you had gotten past this, (Y/N). I really did.”

You swallow, thick and scratchy. “Past what?”

His eyes aren’t cold, but stern. The look he usually gets when he wants to lecture you. You don’t know if you can handle a lecture right now. “Past this silly desire to leave.”

The accusation stings, somehow. You didn’t say you wanted to leave. “That’s not--” you sit up straighter in your chair and force yourself to look him in the eyes. You want to be taken seriously, you want him to take you seriously. “I don’t want to leave.” (But you do, you DO.) “I just--I want to visit my mom.”

Your eyes flick around his face, searching for a sign of something. Compassion, pity even. But he keeps his look as paternalistic as before. Like you’re some silly girl who doesn’t know what she wants or what she needs, like you should know that asking for something like wanting to leave your captor’s fortress and visit your mom who thinks you’re missing or dead already rotting somewhere so she can stop worrying is ridiculous. You feel your carefully suppressed anger bubbling and you clench your fists until your neatly trimmed nails are pinching your skin.

“It’s out of the question,” he says. His voice turns softer. “It’s not safe for you out there. You know that.”

Your breath hitches. “But if you come with me, I’ll be safe, right?”

He smiles. But you know it doesn’t mean anything. “You’re always safe with me, angel. But I can’t risk losing you.”

You smile back, desperate, raising your shoulders up and leaning in across the table. “But you won’t lose me! You’ll be in the car--or in the same room or, or whatever you want! I’ll, I’ll--” your eyes flick to the table, trying to think of things that might appease him, might appeal to him. “I’ll stay by your side the whole time!”

Kai’s smile quirks slightly. It’s a mixture of pity and condescension now. Silly, silly (Y/N), it seems to say.

“(Y/N)… I gave you my answer. Please don’t drag this out any further.” You move to reply, and he cuts you off. “You can have something else for your birthday. New books. Some decorations. Something to start a new hobby, perhaps?”

You swallow again, but the look on his face and his tone tells you what you need to know: he won’t be moved, he won’t change his mind. You really are a silly, silly (Y/N), you think.

The tears that you didn’t know had built up spill over your reddened cheeks, hot and bitter.

“I want my mom,” you say, softly, bitterly. “I want to see my mom on my birthday. That’s what I want for my birthday.”

You wipe away fat tears and stare at him to see his reaction. He doesn’t answer you. He merely watches you, watches your breath hitching, watches the tears spill, silently. His mouth takes on a thin line, a look that says the discussion is over and that you’re being dramatic and ridiculous and childish and--it’s so damn domineering and hurtful that you want to scream.

Then he folds his hands together and rests his chin on them, like he’s waiting for you to stop having a tantrum.

That’s the tipping point. You can’t take it. You stand up, suddenly, and press your nails harder into your palm.

“I fucking hate this,” you spit. You search around blindly, looking for something, anything to release your pent-up anger onto. You settle for your chair, which you push onto the ground. It’s a feeble, ridiculous gesture, and you know this. The realization of how stupid you look makes your cheeks burn in embarrassment and you cover your face with both hands.

“I want my mom,” you force out. Your voice is tight and thin and scratchy. “I want to go--go get a pizza and watch a shitty horror movie in a shitty movie theater, I want to go to work and come home and do the dishes.” You sob into your hands as your knees buckle under you, and you collapse on the ground. “I want to leave.”

You sob uncontrollably until you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. The sudden touch flinches you out of your sobbing fit, and your hands jerk down, only to see Kai crouched in front of you. His gloved hand is on your shoulder, firm and grounding. You immediately begin to tremble as you realize what you just did. You had a fit and you swore and god, worst of all, you admitted that you wanted to leave. You knew what he would do--send you into solitary confinement. You’ll be all alone without books or baths and the fear makes you cry harder.

He shushes you, soft but commanding, and wipes away your tears methodically, until your cheeks are wet and empty.

“I know it hurts, angel. I know. But we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

You quietly tremble until your realize that he wants an answer.

“No,” you whisper.

His hand gently strokes your cheek. You can barely make eye contact.

“I take care of you. I make sure you’re healthy, don’t I?”

You don’t want to say it. But his questions leave no room to argue.

“... Yes, you do.” You can’t manage to bring your voice above a whisper.

“I give you plenty of things to do, ways to occupy yourself, keep you entertained?”

“Yes,” you force out. You want to shut your eyes.

“I’ve never hurt you, have I?”

You look away. The pause is uncomfortable. He hasn’t hit you, no, he hasn’t done the things you saw him do that night in the alleyway. But there’s more than one kind of hurt.

“No,” you finally whisper. You have no energy to argue. And you can’t go back in that room, you just can’t.

His finger lifts your chin until you look at him.

“Then you need to understand that I only do what’s best for you. That’s why you can’t have a visit for your birthday. You understand that, don’t you?”

You’re about to answer when his phone goes off. He swears under his breath and releases your chin before checking the screen. He sighs, clearly annoyed, and you wonder if the sender of the text message will end up in pieces.

“I have to leave, (Y/N). We’ll talk more before your bath tonight. Please finish your meal.” He picks up your chair and sets it upright. Then he holds out his hand, offering to help you up. You stare for a moment before taking it, and he easily hoists you to your feet. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, and swiftly walking through the door to his office. You hear the lock click behind him.

You sit down in the now-upright chair and stare down at your plate. You hate it. You hate that he calculates your nutrition out as perfectly as possible. You hate that he sometimes gives you a tiny paper cup with less than a dozen M&Ms as a reward for being on your best behavior. You hate the frustrating realization that you do feel healthier, physically, now that you’re not constantly eating junk and have free access to fresh, healthy food.

You shovel the food in your mouth, barely tasting it. Your silent tears mingle with most of the bites, anyway. After finishing every bite, a wave of exhaustion crashes over you. You’re not supposed to take naps after a certain time, but arguing and hopelessness is too tiring to resist; you curl up on your bed and drift into unconsciousness quickly after.

You gasp as you jerk out of a cloudy dream that slips from your mind in seconds. It’s dim in your room, and you quickly realize that someone (Kai, of course, only Kai ever comes in) has turned off your overhead room light. You blink away your sleep and confusion. The bathroom light gives you enough brightness to see something sitting on your desk--an unassuming cream colored envelope.

You slide your legs over the edge of the bed and sit, staring at the note in the low light. In addition to your mind feeling hazy from an unplanned nap that likely went on for too long, you feel confused for another reason: Kai didn’t wake you up to get you ready for your bath. Or for bed. You glance at the clock kept securely high on the wall. It’s after bedtime. Yet instead of freshly cleaned and clothed in whatever nightgown he’d picked out for you, you’re in your day clothes and, you realize, slightly damp from sweat. The break in your routine is surprisingly disorienting.

As you waken up more fully, the dull ache of pain from his rejection of your request resurfaces. You push down thoughts of your mom and home and stand up. You might as well open the note. It’s for you, after all, and it’s something to do--something else new, in addition to the unusual change in routine. Something to distract you.

As you sit at the table, you wonder if you should just go back to bed. You don’t want to read the note, but that doesn’t stop you from carefully opening the little envelope--no spit-seal, of course, Kai would never--and unfold the note inside.

“(Y/N). I know it is difficult to adjust. You are doing so well. You may take your birthday trip next year, if you continue to behave so beautifully. You can do your own bedtime routine tonight. I will see you in the morning.”

You can feel your stomach curdling, the dinner you’d had earlier threatening to make its acidic way back up. Next year… another year here… with him. The realization that he doesn’t even consider that you could escape between now and then scares you. The realization that might continue “behaving so beautifully” scares you even more. You shakily set the note down, and rest your cheek against the cool desk.

You can feel sweat trickle down your back. Stress must have made your warm. You want a bath. He said you could do your own routine tonight, after all. But the idea comes with complications, the number one issue being the water has to be turned on by Kai--so you’ll have to ask him to turn it on when you’re ready. Maybe you could write a note and slip it under the door? But he might not see it, which means you’ll have to knock on the door anyway. The idea of taking your own bath, a bath of your own design, briefly animates you.

You quietly knock on the door to his office. It takes a moment to hear a response, and you briefly wonder if you should be doing this at all. Maybe he’s gone to sleep in his own room. Maybe he decided you were being insufferable and that’s why he didn’t want to do your routine tonight. Maybe he--

The door opens slowly, and you crane your head to get a quicker look at Kai as he comes into view. His mask is back on, and his eyes widen, just a touch. He seems… surprised?

“(Y/N)?” He asks, and you can tell by his tone that he didn’t expect to see you until the next morning.

“I was just wondering if you…” You fidget a little. You can feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “I wanted a bath.”

“Ah,” he says. “And you need the water turned on?”

You nod, and bite the inside of your cheek. “And the um, the stuff from the cabinets, too.”

“Of course.”

You hear him walk back into his office and retrieve the keys, which jingle slightly as he comes back to the door. You step out of his way and tentatively follow him as he walks in your bathroom, briefly glancing at the note he’d left on the way. There’s a strange anxious tension in the air that’s making you feel nervous, and you can’t shake the odd feeling that you’re being punished somehow, that Kai is annoyed or mad with you.

Even though he’s said nothing to that effect. He simply inserts the keys into the customized water panel and turns the water on for you. He then crouches down and unlocks the cabinet, taking out the basket of supplies--shampoos and soaps and little balls of bath bombs--and setting them on the countertop.

“You can use the hot or cold taps freely. Let me know when you’re finished and I’ll clean up.”

“Kai--” you say, without realizing it. It feels instinctive.

He looks straight at you, eyes impassive as ever. “Yes?”

His gaze makes you stare at the ground. You fiddle with your shirt sleeve. You don’t know why you say it. But it comes out quickly, softly--helplessly.

“Would you… would you set up my bath, like normal? And pick out my clothes?” You look up at him with what you hope are pleading eyes.

He raises his eyebrows.

“Please?” you say, barely above a whisper. “If you’re not busy?”

He waits another moment before answering you from behind his mask. “You want your normal routine?”

You nod, again chewing your lip. You feel childish, ridiculous, but… the routine has become comforting, and you want to be comforted. You want the dull ache in your heart to go away, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

The sight of Kai reaching up to take off his mask makes you want to cry. As he slips it off, you see he’s wearing a small, but approving, smile.

“Of course, angel. Now you just sit on your bed while I set everything just how you like it.”

You can’t help the weak, relieved smile on your face as you sigh and leave the bathroom, ready to sit on your bed and--as he wrote in his note, behave so beautifully. He wasn’t mad at you, he wasn’t annoyed, and things would slip back into normalcy any minute now.

The sound of the running bath, the promise of the gentle heat and rose-scented shampoo that awaits, covers up the pain in your chest. It makes it all the easier to rebury the awful realization that you’re well and truly trapped in this little world he’s created for you.

#yandere overhaul #yandere kai chisaki #overhaul #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #kai's such a diiiiiiiiiiiick #okay well something is up with the keep reading feature :;; so I apologize for the length on your dash #seems like keep reading works on the actual blogs but not on dash for some reason... oh tumblr

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roseabelle21 · 3 years

Text

Sypnosis: You have waited for him. For years you waited for him. Waiting for the time that he'll look at you the way you look at him, to see you the way you see him, to love you like how much you love him. As days bled into years, you accepted the harsh reality that all those things are only forever daydreams. All those years chasing has left you numb, tired, pain, so you stop. Stop, and then turn away from him, ready to start anew. But he doesn't want you to go.

Status: Unedited

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x female! Reader

Genre: Angst

Part 2: In Another Life

Why?

Why now?

You looked at the sullen face of the man you once loved in front of you. Five feet away from you, so close yet so far. There Bakugou Katsuki stood, hands clenched on his side, teeth gritted, his usually spiky hair has flattened down as if it reflects its owner's emotions. And his eyes, god, you used to love staring at those eyes, always determined and filled with a burning passion, and now you can't recognize them.

They were pleading, aching, distress; they were in agony. It doesn't suit your eyes, you thought. Never in the years you've been with him would you have imagined that they are directing at you.

For you.

You wanted this to be a dream, no, a nightmare. Yet as you both stood at the pouring rain, the cracking of thunder, the rain hitting your skin and dampening your clothes, confirmed that this is all true. It is happening to you right now.

"What?"

You whispered in disbelief, heart pounding in your ears as you clenched the collar of your dress for stability.

You looked at him, disbelief, hurt, anger, sadness, and confusion all simultaneously. "I-I don't understand?"

He ran his hands through his hair angrily, gripping on them in frustration as he looked down at the ground. He can't stand this, you looking at him like that, in pain, but he knows he caused this.

The timing is awful, and he didn't think this through. When Mina told him you wanted to give Inasa a chance to go on a date, the guy that had his eyes on you ever since the Provisional License Exam, something in him snapped.

Katsuki can't stand it, just imagining you holding someone else's hands, holding you, making you laugh, tell your problems to someone else, kissing you.

His blood started boiling at the thought, sparks unintentionally popping out of his hands, sending his teammates in panic. No, all of those are the things that you should be doing with him.

Before he knew it; he was running, begging, praying that he wasn't too late. But he already is.

"I fucking like you! I'm sorry I took so long to realize it, I'm sorry for confusing you now, and I'm sorry-"

"Stop!"

You shouted, causing his eyes to widen, and he raised his head to look at you. The sight of your face broke his heart.

"Please," you begged, holding your collar ever tighter as tears streamed down your face.

Katsuki took a step forward, reaching his hand towards you, wanting desperately to hug you, and you took a step back. He stopped his actions.

Dammit, that stings.

"Why?"

He looked confused; first, he opened his lips to answer when you asked again.

"Fucking hell Katsuki why now?!"

Katsuki's taken aback by the sudden raise at your voice, albeit it's not his first time seeing it, this is the first time it is directed towards him. He knew he fucked up big time when your eyes, full of hatred, stared at him. Those eyes that are shining with love and adoration for him, now gone.

He's ashamed, humiliated, furious, loathing at himself right now that he caused you this much pain. The dress you wore that hugged your curves perfectly, flowing around when you spun now clung to your body like a sponge. Your hair that framed your face like a goddess now stuck at your beginning, damped and ruined, face smudged with mascara, made you look like a hot mess. Still, you look beautiful in his eyes.

You've always been beautiful, he knows it; he just chose to ignore it.

"I have been by your side for years, Katsuki," you started, bringing him back to reality. "I was with you at your best, and I was with you at your lowest. I was with you when you started achieving your goals. Katsuki," you looked at his eyes, "I have always been by your side when you were too blind to notice."

He ran, he ran towards you and took you in his arms., holding you tighter when you started resisting, punching his chest, pushing him away, trying to pry his arms off of you. Despite the cold rain that soaked his shirt, he is so warm.

You gave up it was futile anyway, but you didn't wrap your arms around him. They fall limp at your sides, sobbing even louder when he whispered in your ear, "I know."

Both of you just stood there in the pouring rain. It's like the weather is sympathizing along with you, crying because you no longer can hold the pain.

If he confessed to you a year ago; you would have flown over the moon in joy. And now that he is revealing to you when you are ready to move on and find someone new, you feel numb.

"Was it obvious that I liked you?" You asked, not looking up at him. You wouldn't have been able to see his face as he buried it in your hair as he confirmed your answer and ignored your usage of past tense.

"Am I necessary to you?" You questioned, another batch of tears stinging your eyes when he answered.

"More than you know."

Katsuki's hold on, you loosened even if he wanted to hold you longer, so you took that chance to detach yourself from him, wiping your eyes as you took a step back.

The rain has calm, till it stopped altogether.

Realizing the time, you straightened your posture and looked at him dead in the eye, void of any emotion.

"Do you want what's best for me?"

He nodded his head frantically, eyes lighting up for a second, "of course I fucking do-"

"Then leave me alone."

Katsuki felt his heart stop, and the air around him grew colder. He wanted you to admit that this is just a suck prank, a horrible nightmare. Would you please say anything to make his heart stop aching?

"W-what? Stop shiting with me (Y/N)-"

"What makes you think I am?" You replied instantly. He physically froze at the tone of your voice.

You took a step towards him, him taking action back this time.

"It's not my fault that you just realized your feelings for me when I'm ready to move on."

Step.

"It's not my fault that you chose to ignore your feelings for me."

Step.

"It's not my fault that after all these years of chasing, something you knew but chose to ignore that I grew tired."

Step.

"It's not my fault that I'm willing to choose someone else who can treat me better

then you can."

Step.

Stop.

"It's my choice when I want to stop loving you." You drew a shaky breath afterward.

Katsuki's ears are ringing. He was so pale that he looked like he had seen a ghost. He stared at you, shocked, upset, unbelieving. He wanted to deny it. Deny the fact that he was too late. He knew that there was still a chance, but deep inside, he knew that you were right.

You stared at each other one last time before you turned your heel and walked away.

A fresh batch of tears now rolled down your face, heart-clenching, and longing, wanting to give the man of your dreams a chance to be with him and hopefully a start of a beautiful relationship. You almost gave in, but your mind stayed firm.

No. Enough.

No more chasing.

No more longing.

No more fantasizing.

It's time to start a new leaf. Give a chance to others who are willing and trying to be with you, to make you happy, to treat you like you deserve. Who will love you back just as unconditionally as you do?

Katsuki Bakugou watched as you turned the corner, out of sight but still in mind.

Memories of you replayed in his mind like a movie: your first meeting, your first duo activity, when you saved him from the villains, when he opened up about his insecurities to you, your late-night talks, your blatant flirting, your smile, your laughter, your tears, your confession, you supporting him achieving his dreams, you walk away. Just you.

You.

Him losing you.

He fell to his knees and let out an anguished scream. Tears are falling like a waterfall and heart-shattering in a million pieces. Katsuki didn't flinch when someone wrapped their arms around him. He didn't push him away because he knew who that person was.

The Bakusquad watched him pour his heart out. They warned him about this, warning him ever since that if he doesn't make a move soon, she's going to slip away from him.

And she did.

Kirishima held him; he didn't know what else to do. Telling him that everything will be okay is a lie. Katsuki wished upon the universe to bring you back to him. This time he will treat you right. This time, he will cherish you never like before; he will show you how much he loves you.

He will do anything, anything. Just don't tell him that your love is gone.

A/N: Hello and thank you for reading! This is my first fic on tumblr and I hope that you enjoyed it. Reblogging and liking my fic if you liked it will be appreaciated.♥️♥️♥️

#katsuki x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bnha angst

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Text

Escape Part 3:

This is part 3 of the "Escape" post I wrote. @whump-a-la-mode wrote a wonderful part 2. Which is here. Part 1 is here.

Quick fornote, this is not edited. I may look it over eventually, but beaware of mistakes and incorrect grammar. Perhaps a lot of it. Also, my creativity levels right now are like a piece of dynamite going down a waterfall, exploding, and the particles being shipped to a rocket and then discarded into space to be later burnt up by the sun.

Warnings: blood, vomit, collared whumpee, confused whumpee, exhaustion, hospital setting, needles/syringes, restrained whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, soundproof room, torture (head trauma, broken bones, beating), talk of death, referring to one as trash, fake drugs

Hero woke with a start, immediately digging her fists in the familiar mattress. She vaguely felt an odd throb right below her ribcage. Hero thought hard. She didn't recently hurt herself. Unless, of course, she cracked a rib when Villain knocked her down in the elevator. That impudent, little-

Something shifted on her lap. Hero tensed before reaching above her to flick a light on.

The sight below her made her heart skip a beat. Villain was huddled against her, clutching onto her gray t-shirt with ferocity- however weak- as if he would die otherwise. Hmph, making the little ignorant chicken did whole-heartedly believe that her attire was the only way to alleviate his suffering.

But something was wrong. Villain's face was a pallette of blood, spit, vomit. He coughed and buried his face deeper into her stomach. Quizzically, Hero looked all over him. His hands looked like he just had a punching match the plaster- the broken plaster on the wall behind him confirmed that assumption.

"Villain," Hero breathed and ran her hand over his quivering back.

A strangled whimper was the only response.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, noting his cut up heel- he wasn't allowed laces, and refused to sleep in the velcro shoes that he was granted- and the blooming flower of a bruise that erupted in the center of his forehead. Not to mention the blood, all the creamy velvet blood...

"N-no," Villain stuttered finally.

"Then get off of me." Hero proceeded to push the villain away from her, but he already did the work, spiraling onto the ground with a thump.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" Hero asked, crouching next to her foe.

"Not wrong with me," Villaim mumured. Hero scoffed. Yeah, no, Villain was perfectly healthy. He wasn't covered in blood and puke, and he definitely wasn't shaking in exhaustion.

"Sure," Hero grinned sloppily and started to take in Villain's figure. He was obviously weakened, but he was still strong. Oh so strong. His biceps were flexed- actually his whole arm was flexed, but Hero knew it was more reflexive than a boyish show-off. Even his back moved around as he breathed, muscles contracting to their maximum strength. Hero knew that he would have abs under the sweaty shirt. A hum of approval, the Villain Containment Practice really did wonders.

Yet amidst the undeniable cords of muscles, the body in front of her was truly exhausted, starved, and dehydrated. Hero doubted he would be to move, especially with the hidden injury.

It hurt Hero to watch his hand tentatively brush the collar around his neck, but it stung when it flopped back down. Maybe taking away his breakfast privileges was too much.

And perhaps snatching away his lunch, but that was all. He still had dinner, and snacks-

No, those were also taken away. Cruelly erased from his schedule and replaced with more reps. More lessons, more lectures...

The villain groaned and tried to shuffle away as spontaneously aware that Hero was in his vicinity.

"Wha' ya gonna do?" Villain slurred. His dull eyes glanced over to the plastic cup. "Gimme," he whispered.

"Manners," Hero began to warn, but stopped. Chastising such a pale prisoner would do more bad than good. She could just imagine a relaspe. Villain was doing... mediocre, but not terrible. Though the only points he received were from the continous physical exercises he performed daily.

So Hero stood up, clenching her teeth as her rib flared up again, and sauntered over to the kitchenette. She grabbed a new cup and filled it up with city water. Hero scowled- she hated this water. Once she lived in the country... the change of taste in the water was one of a kind.

Hero returned with the cup and handed it to Villain, but he immediately dropped it. Water spilled everywhere. Hero could see his skin turn red and tears spike in his eyes.

"Aww come-" Hero began, but stopped when she noticed Villain turned his head into the crook of his elbow. Hero sighed and went back for another cup.

She returned and propped Villain's limp head up. She tilted it back and ran her thumb over his lips, gently prying the shriveled muscles open. Villain, however tired, tried to refuse, glaring daggers at Hero.

"Villain," Hero growled. Villain tensed, so Hero rubbed circles on his neck. Comfort was not her greatest gift, but Villain relaxed regardless.

"You wanted water earlier," she reminded him, putting the cup to his lips. After a brief moment of hesitation, Villain greedily opened his lips and started gulping the water down.

"Slow down," Hero very rudely removed the much wanted cup from Villain. "Time for you to go to the infirmary."

"No!" Villain yelled and tried to push away from his nemesis. They may run into Nosey. What if they tried to kill Hero again? Or worse, Villain?

The trek down to the infirmary was beyond slow. Even Villain in his groggy state recognized that. The corriders and dorms all blended together into one gigantic smoothie. They didn't matter, only not running into Nosey mattered.

Hero carried him in a bridal carry. Though lithe and slender, she was strong. Very strong. Villain realized this with a pang of fear. She could easily dominate him and hurt him.

Especially if she found out that Villain saved her.

When she found out. Villain could only physically make it non-lethal and take away the majority of her pain. It still would scar and be painful to an extent, but he saved her.

He saved her.

"Using your powers is never the answer," Villain mumbled to himself. "Call the heros..."

"What's that?" Hero asked.

Villain shut up, right then and there.

"Well, okay. Here we are," Hero pushed open the door to the infirmary with her foot. The smell of disinfectant and medicine hit Villain's nose, making him want to throw up all over again.

"Hero." A deep voice. Not Nosey. He was safe, for now.

"Doctor. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Why is his collar still on?"

"Safety. I don't know. He was collapsed on top of me and throwing up."

"Maybe food poisoning. Lay him on-"

"He hasn't eaten in days, Doc."

Villain felt knew hands tenderly dabbing around the collar.

"Do you have keys for this, Hero?"

"Yeah, back pocket. Here." Hero sat Villain on the ground, using her foot to keep him upright.

"Hero?" Villain slurred. His tongue was too thick, his brain too tired to completely make sense of the dire situation. He limply rested his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes.

Healing never was this taxing.

Villain felt his head fall back, so he jerked back upwards into a strangers arms.

"Hey, Villain," the same deep voice cooed, like a baritone. Deep and eneveloping.

"Villain." Hero was behind him, but Villain hardly recognized it. He felt like he was falling into a dark abyss.

"Bring him to a bed," the doctor ordered. Villain, whisked away from the comforting promise of sleep, was rushed back into the present. He jerked and cried out, fighting against the arms that held him.

He was going to be punished. Punished for his negligence. Punished for his powers.

"Villain," Hero snarled. Her voice was taut with exasperation. "We are trying to help you."

"No!" Villain cried out, breaking free of the hero and the doctor. Blindly he scrambled away, knocking over tables. Liquids spilled everywhere. Glass cut into his palms, but he didn't care. Not when he was going to be punished.

"Twenty more laps Villain."

"Add more weight, 200 pounds isn't enough."

"I don't care. Another sit-up. With weights."

"Seven minute plank. Let's go."

All Nosey's voices. The seagull that swooped down and took his strength away, leaving him a parched rasion with only enough food to keep his body minimally functioning.

He couldn't. He couldn't be punished. He helped, he helped. Yet, Villain couldn't convince himself that was indeed the truth.

Heros never cared about the truth. That was evident when they never took the time to remove him from this jail when he was innocent. Yes, he landed the homeless man in the hospital, but it was self-defense.

Villain plummeted into a skinny nurse, laying her flat on the ground with a bleeding head. Again, not his fault. She had a horrendous looking needle.

"Villain!" Hero called out and tackled him to the ground, pining him by the wrists and keeping his torso down with a well-placed knee.

Villain threw himself upwards, trying in desperation to remove himself from Hero's grasp.

"We are going to have to sedate you if you keep this up," Hero warned. Villain froze. He couldn't unwillingly go unconscious or he would never recover from the horrors inflicted upon him. Heck, he might never wake up. The creaks in his bones, the dull ache throughout his overexerted muscles, the incessant headache- they all reminded him of his predicament.

"There we go now." Hero removed her knee and scooped Villain up, laying him on a hard hospital bed.

The doctor came around, eyeing the Villain's hands.

"Please restrain him," the doctor said and quickly walked away to grab who knows what.

Hero took the liberty to roughly shove Villain's hands into cuffs. The cuffs surrounded his hand like Elsa's cuffs in the movie Frozen. They blocked any and all chances of escape.

Escape. The once motivating words was now a nightmare.

Hero then worked to place a leather strap around his throat. Villain didn't even notice that the previous collar was removed. Now looking through the mess he made, Villain saw the collar strewn on the ground.

Another strap was placed around his torso. Hero tightened it one notch too tight, pushing his abs in. Villain groaned and glared, but it lacked intent.

Finally his ankles were attached to the bed, each dangling off the side uncomfortably.

"Okay. Good," the doctor chuckled before reappearing at Villain's side. "Let's start the exam."

"You intolerable little butthead," Nosey drawled, tossing Villain into the white room like a piece of trash. "First off completely failing tests like a kindergartener; second, being a prat and faking injuries which just led to you being punished; and third? Well, that hospital trampede was really necessary, wasn't it?"

"And what are you gonna do?" Villain retorted. "Wave your little middle finger at me and yell all your stupid insults? Honestly, brainiac, you sound like a dying cat."

Of course, Villain did not say any of this. He just thought it, an undying wish that threatened to bounce off his tongue.

"No answer?" Nosey asked, leaning against an ivory wall. Villain wondered if it was once pure white, but all the blood spillage stained it.

Now that wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Nope," Villain replied, completely compliant.

"You know I love the little stunt you played with healing dear Miss Hero," Nosey stalked over to the villain. "But my employer does not."

Villain vividly remembered the way Nosey's face paled when they laid eyes on Hero. And then he also definitely remembered the way Nosey snarled at him- wild and feral, ready to maim and kill.

"Wanna know how much killing her depended on my livelihood? Heck, I would've made thousands and then be promoted to her position. My employer, Superhero, is now furious at me. Hero, that goody two shoes and her 'redeemed the villains' morals are quite old-schooled. Don't you think? We need a more... let's say modern approach to dealing with you monsters." Nosey's black pointed boot pressed against Villain's cheek before it slashed down with such force that it should've knocked Villain out.

But, stupid enhanced healing powers delegated by the doctor always made the promise of black bliss an impossibility.

But the enhancement was temporary. Just enough to replenish Villain's utter exhaustion.

Nosey's fingers grasped onto Villain next finding a perfect pressure point on his throat. Villain squealed, his neck was still bruised and tender from the collar.

"Do you want to know what it feels like to suffocate? Villain? Hmm?" Nosey spoke quickly, not even giving Villain a chance to shake- or nod, if Villain wanted to go that route- before they started to press right against Villain's trachea.

"Lack of air. Painfully at first, but the moment you black out. The moment that death is almost upon you is precious," Nosey spoke through clenched teeth as excitement and adrenaline overtook him. Villain, on the other hand, was overtaken by fear as he wiggled around like a frying worm.

Almost as suddenly as the hand was placed, it was removed. Villain blinked away the black blotches and took gulping breaths.

"Pathetic," Nosey growled and grabbed the back of Villain's neck, picking him up, and ramming him against the wall. An volcano of stars erupted in Villain's vision as the room tilted.

Nosey smacked him against the wall like that a couple more times before grabbing onto his wrist and stepping down. A crack and a scream echoed throughout the soundproof room like dynamite.

"Think you are done. Do you think that you are done!" Nosey laughed wickedly as they discarded the villain on the ground.

Then the beating took place. Kicks and rabbit chops battered Villain's body until he couldn't even move to defend himself. Unconsciousness loomed at his vision, but each new flare of pain brought him back to the waking world.

His broken arm loosely hung, a bone popping out of the skin, as his body convulsed. But Nosey wasn't done. No, they went over to the wall and grabbed a wooden bat and began to hit Villain until his ribs began to break. One crack after the other, after the other-

Nosey flopped down on the ground next to Villain, carefully cradling their own head with their left hand as their right picked Villain's up.

"Do you see that window Villain?" Nosey asked. "It leads right out into the city. We are even on the first story. An easy escape if you weren't so weak." Nosey wrapped their arm around Villain's heaving shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "But that's okay. You can stay with me," Nosey chuckled and grabbed Villain's chin, prying his mouth open. The villain gurgled and spat in response, but allowed Nosey to keep him in that hold.

Nosey reached into their back pocket and revealed a syringe.

"Power suppressant. Don't worry, I know your weakness. Can't be drugged or you will die. Blah blah blah. Hero's mind reading powers are good for one thing at least. But this-" Nosey stroked the clear syringe and whistled. "-is a masterpiece."

Villain tried to remove his throbbing head, but Nosey's grib was too strong.

"Can't have you dying on me when we are having so much fun," Nosey wrapped Villain into a close hug as they plunged the needle into his neck.

"Enjoy your stay," Nosey chuckled before leaving the room.

Before leaving Villain, alone and in pain, to deal with himself.

#villain whumpee #hero whumper #hero whumpee #in a way #continuation #escape #part 3 #torture #broken bones #exhausted whumpee #poor villain #tw needles

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bonnyskies · 4 years

Text

his sweet omega ⇢ jjk

he’s your alpha, and you’re his sweet omega.

pairing — alpha!jungkook x omega!malereader,

genre — fluff, omegaverse au, college au, roommates au, friends to lovers au,

warnings — age-gap (the reader’s eighteen and jungkook’s twenty-two), swearing, past mentions of fuckboy!jungkook, jungkook is very soft for the reader, both parties are oblivious for the other’s feelings, and brief mentions of male pregnancy

requested by — anonymous

author’s note — honestly really loved this request so thank you to whoever sent this to me. and just a small heads up, this is my first time dealing with anything with werewolves so forgive me if there are any mistakes on the topic. i’m still learning about this type of au.

word count — 3k

masterlist

“—and he just told me that he couldn’t date me anymore. No real reason, just that he can’t.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe what he was hearing right now. How could Jaehyuk, your now ex-boyfriend end your guys’ six month relationship without any explanation? It wasn’t like you two had any problems, if anything the two of you were perfect for each other.

Jaehyuk—just the thought of his name already made Jungkook’s blood boil—was an alpha, and since you were only an omega, he protected you like an alpha should and treated you with complete respect and equality, unlike how other people do to omegas. That’s what made Jungkook like him when you first introduced them to each other, because Jaehyuk wasn’t like any other alpha. He was kind and didn’t order you around and treat you like you were his property like most alphas did to their omegas.

Jungkook still remembers the day you introduced him to Jaehyuk, because the image of your big smile and wide eyes shining with passion was engraved in his mind. It was just like any other day, Jungkook was on the couch in your guys’ apartment, waiting for you to come home from your morning lectures so that you two could go out for lunch together. You came back on time, but you also had someone else with you—Jaehyuk. At first, you introduced him as your classmate but from the way you glowed as you spoke about him told Jungkook otherwise. He joined you two for lunch that day, and Jungkook swore he never saw you blush so much, always shielding your face whenever Jaehyuk would compliment you.

You were so in love.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jungkook found himself growling, eyes flashing their crimson color as he tightened his arms around you, listening to your muffled cries into his chest.

“N-No, dont.” You whimpered out, sniffling and lifting your head to meet his eyes. “That won’t solve anything, Kookie. It’ll just create more problems.”

Jungkook smirked at his nickname, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss on top of your head. “He deserves it though. Nobody hurts my sweet omega and gets away with it.”

Even though your face was hidden from him, Jungkook could already tell you were blushing. You always get flustered whenever he uses his nickname for you. “Can I please beat his ass?”

You laughly softly into his chest, and Jungkook swore he could feel his heart stammer inside. “No,” you pouted, running your fingers along the fabric of his shirt. “Can you just stay here and watch movies and eat junk food with me?”

“Of course—,” Jungkook was cut off by the sound of his phone’s ringing before he had the chance to finish his sentence, causing him to slip one of his arms from you and check to see who was messaging him.

“Who was it?” You glancing up and attempting to peek at his phone, but Jungkook already shoved it back into his pocket.

“Nobody,” he answered bluntly, shrugging. “Just Jimin, wondering if I’m still going to his party tonight.”

You frowned, “You can go if you want.”

Jungkook grinned at your sad expression, pecking your head again before saying, “I’m not going. You need me, not Jimin-hyung. Plus, I rather be here watching movies with you.”

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing mildly. “Thank you,” you mumbled into his torso, your heart beating roughly and uncontrollably inside your chest.

Jungkook smiled, leaning down and gently running his lips along your cheek. “Anything for you, my sweet omega.”

And that’s exactly how you two spent the rest of the day. Laying on the couch, watching endless amount of different kinds of movies with Jungkook’s strong, muscular arms resting around your waist, keeping you secured against his chest.

When the morning came, Jungkook tried to persuade you to stay home and take a break from school just for today, saying how you deserve to have one day of relaxation. But really, he just didn’t want you to run into Jaehyuk alone. And since you two were in different grades—him being four grades higher than you, he wouldn’t be there to protect you if you did end up accidentally running into Jaehyuk.

You refused, of course. Jungkook wasn’t surprised though, you’d always been stubborn. Saying how you weren’t going to let one boy and a broken heart prevent you from attending your classes.

But now, Jungkook couldn’t stop worrying about you, wondering how you were doing right now. His mind was so consumed on you, that he couldn’t focus on his professor’s lecture. He didn’t realize how long he’s been distracted by you until one of his classmates broke him out of his thoughts and informed him that the class has ended.

When leaving the classroom, Jungkook checked the time—it was half past ten. He still has another hour and a half until your morning lectures were done. So he did what every other student on campus did when they needed to kill some time. Chill at the college’s lounge.

Jungkook sat alone at the one of the tables in the very crowded lounge, scrolling through his social media as he patiently waited for you to meet him here. And still, his mind continued to worry about you running into Jaehyuk. You were only an omega, a small, shy, innocent omega and there was no way you could defend yourself—both physically and mentally from someone like Jaehyuk, an alpha.

With his mind practically torturing him, Jungkook finally decided to go and meet you at your class’s building instead of—

“Hey, man.”

Glancing up from his phone, Jungkook’s jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed when seeing your ex-boyfriend standing right in front of him. At least he knew now there was no chance of you running into him anymore. Jungkook could feel his fingers tightening around his phone. It was taking everything in him to refrain himself from beating the absolute shit out of Jaehyuk. His inner wolf practically howling for a fight. “What do you want?” His voice low, eyes glaring threateningly at him.

Without saying anything at first, Jungkook watched as Jaehyuk reached into his backpack and pulled your—his sweatshirt out. “{Name} left his sweatshirt at my place, and I wanted to give it back to him today during class but he’s avoiding me.”

“Can you blame him?” Jungkook spat, snatching his sweatshirt from Jaehyuk’s grasp. Even after not wearing it for so long, he could still smell his scent on it along with yours.

“Okay, I deserve that.” Jaehyuk sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, an awkward tension forming between the two of them. “Alright, well that’s pretty much it. See you around—��

“Why did you break up with {Name}?” The question came out of Jungkook’s mouth faster than this mind could comprehend it. He knew this was none of his business, but he had to know. The image of your crying state was still burned into his head, and it tortured him. He needed answers.

Jaehyuk sighed, running his hand frustratingly through his hair. He glanced at the empty seat beside Jungkook, and when the older alpha nodded his head approvingly, he sat down next to him. “Because he wasn’t mine...”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook raised a brow at him, shifting himself to the side so that he was fully facing the younger alpha. “You two were together for six months, dude! {Name}’s crazy about you.”

“I know that we were together for a long time,” Jaehyuk groaned, tilting his head back. “But he never felt like he was mine, even to this day. No matter how many times I’ve tried to scent him or mate with him, he always refused.”

“You tried to mate with him?” Jungkook seethed, a growl forming in the back of his throat and his eyes shining their usual alpha color of crimson red. “He’s still a virgin, Jaehyuk! You shouldn’t force him to do something that he isn’t comfortable with yet—”

“I know!” Jaehyuk snapped, banging his fists against the table, earning some curious and annoyed glances from other students. “But I was sick of everyone constantly forgetting that we were together.” He confessed, “Even though we’ve been on dozens of dates together, kissed each other many times in public, people still didn’t believe that we were boyfriends. They thought that...”

Jungkook stared at Jaehyuk confusingly, noticing the way his hands were slightly trembling out of anger. “They thought what?”

“They thought you were his boyfriend,” Jaehyuk mumbled out, frowning.

Jungkook’s heart dropped. Other people thought you two were together? “Why would people think that?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Jaehyuk suddenly raises his voice, eyes flaring. “It’s because you’re always around him. And when you’re not, your scent surrounds him.”

Jungkook sighed, “Listen man, there’s nothing going on between me and {Name}. We’re just friends—close, childhood friends. We grew up together, and since he’s an omega and I’m an alpha, I’ve just got this natural tendency to protect him.”

“What you’re doing isn’t protecting him,” Jaehyuk commented, “You’re owning him.”

That caused Jungkook to scoff, “That’s crazy.”

“Is it really?” Jaehyuk questioned, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve seen the way you act around him, Jungkook. You always make sure to have your scent on him, whether that be either wearing your clothes or—,” Jaehyuk then winced, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them. “—scenting him personally.”

Jungkook’s hard expression dropped. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, he was right. He always made sure his scent was on you before the two of you left for classes. It wasn’t his intention to make it look like he owned you. He just didn’t want any horny, asshole alphas to force themselves on you—a young, unmated omega while you were alone.

“I’m his—was his boyfriend.” Jaehyuk stated. “He’s suppose to smell like me, not you. I’m an alpha too, like you, and yet people spread around saying that I shouldn’t even be considered as one because I can’t keep a single fucking omega!”

Jungkook frowned, guilt coursing through him. He knew how possessive alphas can be, he’s experienced it himself—with you. For an alpha, reputation was everything. If word got around that they couldn’t keep their omega—or ‘property’ in check and loyal to them, it would damage their reputation greatly and they’d be seen as weak.

“Listen man, I didn’t mean make you feel that way.” Jungkook stared at him sympathetically. “It’s just that I’ve known {Name} since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood, we been through everything together. I guess there’s always been a part of me that wants to make sure he’s safe and protected.”

Jaehyuk sighed, leaning back against his seat. “It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re done.” He then stood up from his chair, pushing it in and slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “You should go for it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, “W-Wait, what?” He stared up at Jaehyuk with confusion. “There’s nothing going on between me and {Name}—”

He was interrupted by Jaehyuk’s laugh, the younger alpha shaking his head. “Come on, man. Have you completely ignored what we’ve been talking for the past half hour? You’re crazy about him. You’ve practically marked him without actually marking him.”

Jungkook lowered his head to hide the blush that was creeping up his face.

“It’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for him, Jungkook.” Jaehyuk continued, standing above him. “I’ve heard the stories about your reputation here. How you used to sleep around with anyone that caught your attention. But then you stopped when {Name} moved in with you. I’m right, aren’t I?”

He was. Jungkook couldn’t even say how many omegas or betas he fucked in the past. But when you told him that you got accepted into his college, Jungkook instantly offered you his apartment’s spare bedroom—saying how it’s cheaper to live away from campus than to pay for a dorm. Ever since then he hasn’t slept with anyone—let alone invite them over. It’s been months.

“T-That doesn’t mean I like him—,” once again, he was interrupted by Jaehyuk’s laughter.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, dude.” Jaehyuk attempted to reassure him, clasping his hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder. “{Name} feels the same way about you.”

Jungkook felt his heart stop and eyes widened. “W-What?” He stuttered out, “No he doesn’t. Why would you think he does?”

Jaehyuk rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard to figure out, man. Whenever he’s upset or happy about something, you’re the first person he goes to. He cancels our dates for those weekly movie nights you two always have. And when we do have dates, he’s constantly talking about you. Hell, he prefers your scent over his own boyfriend’s.”

He continued to verbally list, “It’s pretty fucking obvious that {Name} likes you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t know to say. “Just answer me this,” Jaehyuk leaned forward to where his face was inches from Jungkook’s face. “Have you ever thought of {Name} as anything more than friends?”

Jungkook was speechless. Has he ever thought of you romantically? Yes, he thought you were handsome, beautiful even but he always saw you more as a baby brother. But then again, siblings don’t usually scent each other. ‘Siblings’ also don’t sleep in the same bed together, arms and legs tangled with another. With the image of you flashing through his mind, Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder what a future with you would be like.

The thought of falling asleep and waking up beside you every morning, being able to kiss and hold you, and call you his. Mating with you, claiming you—just the thought alone made Jungkook’s heart burst inside his chest. The image himself marrying you, you carrying his children, his pups—oh fuck.

At this point, Jungkook couldn’t stop smiling. He wanted that. That future, with you.

Seeing the expression on Jungkook’s face, Jaehyuk couldn’t help but smile also. Patting his hand gently onto the older alpha’s shoulder, Jaehyuk whispered softly into his ear, “Go for it, man. Before someone else does.” And then he’s gone, leaving Jungkook with his thoughts alone at the table.

Jungkook’s heart was beating uncontrollably, his inner wolf howling loudly, cheering for finally realizing his true feelings for you. Next thing Jungkook knew, he was taking his phone out and messaging you.

jungkook: hey, can’t make it to lunch today. really busy. see you later at home.

And after the message sent through, Jungkook found himself searching for the nearest florist shop.

When recieving Jungkook’s message and reading it, you were confused. He’s never missed lunch with you before, like ever. After replying back with a simple ‘okay,” you headed towards your guys’ shared apartment where you were patiently waiting for him.

Two hours later, you were still waiting for Jungkook at your guys’ apartment, laying down on the living room’s couch in complete silence. As you waited, you couldn’t help but wonder the reason behind his sudden absence. He still hasn’t shown up and you were becoming anxious. This was unlike of Jungkook, completely vanishing from your radar, not replying to any of your messages.

Maybe he’s hooking up with someone right now, your mind thought, making your skin crawl and heart stop. You’ve heard how he was before you moved in with him. How he used to sleep around constantly, always having someone at his apartment. And since you’re living with him now, maybe he’s going to their place instead.

Just thought of Jungkook doing such...intimate things with someone else made your chest ache. You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you knew that. You were with someone for six months, recently, and it’s not like you two were together or anything so Jungkook can be with anyone he wants. Even though that pains you.

But all those paranoid thoughts disappeared when the sound of the apartment’s door opening was heard, causing you to shoot up from the couch and practically sprint towards the entrance. “Kookie, where’ve you been—,” you froze when your eyes landed on him. Right in front of you, Jungkook stood with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“W-What’s this—”

“This is for you,” Jungkook spewed out slightly aggressively, anxiously shoving the bouquet of flowers into your hands, which you gladly accepted.

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, leaning down and smelling the sweet scent of red roses. “Why flowers, though? And roses?”

“Because they’re the symbol of love.”

Your smile then dropped, replaced with shock. “W-What,” you stuttered out, eyes widening when Jungkook didn’t say anything. Instead he took a step towards you until he was only inches from you, lowering his head down to meet your wide-eyed gaze. His next words made your heart completely shut down.

“I’m crazy about you.” Jungkook said with such calmness, and you swore you’ve never heard your heart beat so loud before. “And I’m sorry that it took me this long to realize that.” You couldn’t speak a single word, you utterly speechless. Taking in your silence, Jungkook continued. “This entire time, I’ve only thought you as a friend. Someone to protect, and I’ve always blamed that slight possessiveness I had for you on my alpha instincts, but it’s not just that.”

Jungkook then leaned down and placed his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him enough to where your chests were barely pressed against each other. “I want you, {Name}. Not just as a friend, but as my boyfriend, my mate.” His words were taking your breath away, eyes swelling up with tears. “T-That’s if you’ll have as your mate,” he then started to stutter, head lowered to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. “I-I know you just got out of a serious relationship, and I-I’m not pressuring you or anything, I just want you to know—”

You couldn’t help but smile at your alpha’s rambles. You’ve never seen him so flustered, so vulnerable before. Leaning up, you silenced him by pressing your lips softly against his, which he gladly accepted and kissed back, tightening his arms around you. The bouquet of roses fell from your grasp as you moved your hands to rest on his broad shoulders, deepening the kiss as your lips moved perfectly in sync against his.

Jungkook couldn’t help but moan against your mouth, the alpha inside him howling, hungry for more, eyes shining crimson red underneath his closed eyelids. If it wasn’t for the need of oxygen, Jungkook could kiss you forever. Your lips was like alcohol, intoxicating. But nonetheless, you both needed to breath which is why you two pulled away, both heavily breathing.

“W-Wow,” was the only thing that Jungkook could say, smiling widely and cheeks blushing mildly. “Are you sure?” He then asked you, eyes shining with concern and assurance. You shared the expression as he did, jaw aching from how hard you were smiling.

And when you nodded, that’s all Jungkook needed before his lips came crashing back down onto yours.

He’s your alpha, and you’re his sweet omega.

#bonnyskies #bts #bts au #bts x reader #bts x male reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook au #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x male reader #kpop #kpop au #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader

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smileposting · 3 years

Text

s4mweek day 1 - secret

[ao3 link] [it’s got author’s notes!]

“Well,” he says, tilting his head to look up at the flower child like their boxing glove is a sword pointed at his throat. But he knows no matter how hard he tries to make it seem otherwise, there’s nothing noble about the gesture, no pretty and quiet defiance like the kind you’d see in a hero. “I suppose this is it, Flower Child.”

Flower Kid stands over him, haloed in the fluorescent lighting of the office behind them. The hood of their jacket casts such a harsh shadow that Habit can only see their face from the nose down. A trail of blood trickles down from their mouth.

“One more shove and you’ve gotten your way,” he says, ignoring the taste of bile, the bite of glass digging into his palm, the way he can’t clench his jaw properly and can’t even tell himself that it was all worth it in the end anymore. “Perhaps it’s time. A younger me would do the same.” The balcony railing is low. Even if Flower Kid chose to have mercy on him for whatever reason, if he were to stand up and back away now, he’d most likely trip and fall to his doom anyway. The thought is almost comforting; no perpetrators, no victims, just the culmination of one very foolish man’s mistakes. If nothing else, at least he can have this, the knowledge that in the end, everyone got exactly what they deserved.

Flower Kid rolls their eyes - or at least, Habit assumes they roll their eyes, based on the minute curl of their lip and their head turning left for the briefest of moments. They pull their arm back.

He flinches, bowing his head and closing his eyes in one swift motion, and braces himself for the impact of a second hit that never comes.

There’s a pause. And then the dull thud of leather against linoleum. What?

He doesn’t dare to let go of the breath he’s holding, but he does, against his better judgement, crack one eye open. The boxing glove lays discarded on the floor, forgotten as the flower child rummages through their bouquet. “Flower Child…?”

“Enough theatrics,” they sign. They’re remarkably articulate for someone who should either still be waiting for the laughing gas to wear off or should be doubled over in pain from the earlier extraction. “I have something for you.”

And then they turn around. When Boris sees what they have in their arms, the shock of it strikes him so hard he might as well have been punched after all. He lunges for it like a starved animal, seized by a sudden ferocity, and it takes everything in him not to snarl in frustration when Flower Kid holds it just out of his reach.

“First,” they sign. “You promise that you won’t hurt anyone else.”

“There’s no one else left to hurt,” he pleads, arms outstretched plaintively. “Please…?”

A silence follows as Flower Kid seems to contemplate their next move, eyeing Boris like a cat sizing up a pigeon. Then they relent, and Lily is finally back in his arms.

“Where did you get this?” Boris asks after what feels like hours spent on the floor of his office, running his hands over thick, waxy petals, of reveling in the feeling of the flowerpot in his hands, in its cool terracotta. He knows the answer, but something in him demands some confirmation.

Flower Kid shrugs. “Grew it myself.”

Silence. A tacit understanding. They sit down on the floor across from him.

“You know everything about me, then,” says Boris. It isn’t a question.

“Not everything. Just what was important to know.”

“Right,” he snorts. “That I’m a sad, selfish little man-baby who takes it out on everyone else. Very important.”

“Right now, yeah,” they concede, earning them the stink eye of the century from Boris despite the honesty. “But you don’t have to be one forever.” Their movements slow down, and it suddenly strikes him that they’re scrambling for the right words just as much as he is. “I know this doesn’t feel like that great of an ending, but... maybe that just means it isn’t an ending at all. For you, anyway.”

Boris blinks. “And for you?”

Flower Kid takes a moment to look around the office. The lighting’s grown dimmer, flickering on occasion. “Yeah. I think I’m done here.” And then they stand up as though they had never been on the ground at all, heading towards the doorway.

“Wait.”

They pause, turning back to look at him quizzically.

Suddenly, Boris’ mouth is dry. Idiot, a little voice tells him. You whine and beg for people to stay and when they do, you can’t even be bothered to give them a reason?

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he says, cringing at how stilted his words are. “Maybe you could… listen to what I have to say?”

“...Yeah. I can do that.”

Oh, goodness. Okay. Now he really has to think of something good. “I…” he pauses to swallow before starting again. How do they do this in movies? “I thought I had destroyed all those seeds. Squashed them flat and buried them deep, deep where they wouldn’t resurface. I used to be a naive flower child like you-”

Somehow, Boris gets the distinct impression that Flower Kid raises an eyebrow at that. He elects to ignore it and continue.

“ - But I gave up believing that everyone could be saved. I learned that you gotta break a few eggs to make a happiness omelette. Or, teeth-”

Wait.

Oh, wait.

“Teeth!” Boris hisses, scrambling to his feet. “Flower Kid, your teeth - oh, how did it - how did I-?!”

The closer Boris gets, the further Flower Kid backs away, pulling the hem of their hoodie up over the visible parts of their face. “It’s not that big a deal,” they sign hurriedly. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine!” Boris exclaims in what should have been a booming voice, but came out as more of a faint scream. “You’ll be fine?! I tore out your teeth - I didn’t use anaesthetic.” His breath is coming out in short, labored huffs as he begins to pace about the office, bringing a hand to his mouth as though it’ll do anything to stop the ensuing tidal wave of anxiety. “Oh, God. Oh, my God-”

A hand reaches out to grip his shoulder, urging Boris to look Flower Kid directly in the face. As much as the two of them can manage, anyway - now that they’re both standing up, Flower Kid has to crane their neck a little to look up at him, face full of steely, stone-faced determination. Then they open their mouth, revealing a full, if not bloodied, set of teeth.

Boris’ jaw hangs open in kind, unsure if he should scream or sigh in relief or ask how any of this is happening right now. “No,” is what he finally settles on.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean,” he sputters. “That this should not be happening! You should be writhing on the floor in pain! And have at least twelve less teeth than you do right now!”

“Are you… angry, that isn’t the case?”

“Yes! I mean, no - I don’t know,” he says, throwing his free hand up before it comes to rest on his temple, the other still holding Lily protectively against his stomach. “...People don’t just… grow teeth back, Flower Kid. If they did, we would not be here right now.”

“Debatable,” they sign. “Anyway, I’ve never had the best relationship with things like physics. Or lasting damage. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Habit groans. “Instead of punching me off the balcony you’ve decided to mess with my head so much it will kill me. Is that it?”

“Hardly. Besides, you’ve seen weirder. You’ve done weirder.”

Boris opens his mouth to protest before closing it again, lips pressed together into a thin line. “Touché.”

“There we go. Think of it like this: I keep my mouth shut about the part where you performed impromptu dental surgery on me, and in return you discover why I throw myself down stairwells all the time.”

Boris blinks, his grip on the flowerpot tightening. “I… I don’t-”

“I get it, you wanna do the right thing,” Flower Kid assures him. “But believe me when I say that it’s way harder to do that from jail, and I don’t think five to ten years in relative isolation from the outside world would do your mental health any favors.”

“That’s-”

“You’ll probably still get charged with medical fraud, though. Nothing I can really do there. Sorry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about!” Boris finally manages to get a word in, much to Flower Kid’s apparent surprise. “Flower Kid, I hurt you. Badly. You were bleeding... You really didn’t feel any of it?”

They study Boris for a moment before responding. “Sure, I did. Why do you think I punched you?” When Boris doesn’t laugh, they sheepishly add, “It only hurts for a couple seconds. I’m used to it.”

“You’re still hurting yourself,” Boris says quietly. “Flower Kid, that’s no way to live.”

“Look who’s talking,” they retort, and immediately wince. “Sorry. I’m supposed to be helping you.”

“No, no, you… have a point,” Boris sighs. “You’ve done enough, anyway. I think it’s time for you to go.”

Flower Kid frowns. “What about you?”

Boris looks around the office with a small grimace, “I have a few things to clean up, first. But I’ll follow when I’m done.”

They tilt their head and nod - not totally satisfied, but it will have to do for now. “Take care of Lily.”

“I will,” says Boris, managing a half smile despite his exhaustion. “Take care of yourself, too, Flower Child.”

They hold up their hand as they walk away, snapping their fingers and thumb together a few times as they do to mimic someone talking. Yeah, yeah, it says. No promises.

Boris wants to - needs to - say something before they leave. He needs to tell them how much good they’ve done; how much good they’ll continue to do; what a fool he is.

But before he knows it, they’re gone.

#my writing #sfmweek2021 #boris habit #flower kid #spoilers #dental trauma #physical assault #nothing on-screen but its referenced throughout the fic

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toomanyrobins · 3 years

Text

a little birdie told me pt. 8

Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader

Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, cursing, mentions of forced marriage, sex, mentions of alcohol and inebriation

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Thank you for the patience this part week! Hope that this part makes up for the wait! 💛

Series masterlist // next part As the party reached its head, Y/N offered to take Jamie up to the room. She still didn’t love crowds and especially didn’t love so many strangers touching her. Steve had tried to convince her to stay, but when he saw the anxious look in her eyes, he nodded in understanding and thanked her for her help. A feeling of relief washed over her as the door clicked shut and she could kick off her heels. The first thing she did was put Jamie into his pajamas and change out of her dress. She dug around her bag for the nightie she packed, but there was a chill in the air so she grabbed one of Steve’s sweatshirts to put on top. Jamie was still wired from all of the excitement, so she decided to lay down on the couch in the sitting room and put on a movie. Y/N traced her fingers along his back, letting her mind wander to Steve. Eventually, Jamie started to settle and they both were dozing on the couch, the movie playing in the background. She was half asleep when the door of Steve’s hotel room banged open, making her jump. She immediately checked on the baby, but he continued to sleep like a log. She sat up slowly and looked at the men leaning against Steve for support, “Are you guys drunk?”

Bucky’s eyes were practically crossed, “No…”

“Really?” she quirked an eyebrow, “Then say the alphabet backwards.”

Bucky and Sam all shared a look. There was silence for a second and then the latter spoke, “What the hell is the last letter of the alphabet?”

Y/N laughed under her breath “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Sam, I think that answered my question.” She was trying not to show her amusement at the situation as Steve was holding the two men up. “Boys, go to my room and sleep it off. Steve, I’ll stay and help take care of Jamie for the night.” The blond nodded and walked into the bedroom.

Bucky sidled up beside her and kissed her forehead, “Thanks Birdie. You’re the best. I can see why the punk never shuts up about you.” Y/N’s cheeks grew warm.

“God, Barnes, you do not know how to keep a secret. Nearly revealing that Steve’s got a thing for Birdie. Get your shit together.” Sam slapped the brunet upside the head and the two men stumbled off to the adjoining room, leaving Y/N to absorb the information that was just drunkenly revealed to her.

She shook her head, that could be dealt with at a later date. Y/N put the sleeping Jamie into his crab and walked into the bedroom. Steve was starfished on the bed, his eyes shut. “You have got to shower. You smell like you’re wearing the entire contents of a keg.”

“Bucky spilled his beer on me. I’m so tired, sweetheart.”

She forced him off of the bed. “You can sleep after you shower.” He grumbled, but started undressing. She squeaked, turning around, and stayed that way until she heard the shower turn on. In an attempt to keep herself distracted, she went back out into the sitting room to check on Jamie and make sure the drunk duo wouldn’t bother him. Thankfully, all three of them were both already passed out. She snapped a quick photo and sent it to Becca to let her know that her fiance was safe and sound before going back into the bedroom.

When Steve came out of the bathroom, he found Y/N sitting on the bed. He was only wearing a towel and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. He leaned against the door, just admiring her. He traced up her legs to where his hoodie brushed her thighs. He had seen a peek of lace when she’d leaned over and knew saw was wearing something underneath. When his eyes finally met hers, she tilted her head, “You okay, Stevie?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to be doing at 2 in the morning. What’s wrong?”

He weighed his options and the drinks he had had earlier boosted his confidence, “I should’ve kissed you when I noticed we had mistletoe above us earlier.”

Y/N squeaked, “What?”

“When we were dancing, we spun under mistletoe and I should’ve kissed you.”

“It is probably bad luck to ignore the Christmas Spirit.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Steve was across the room and kissing her. He peeled his sweatshirt off of her, Y/N threading her hands through his damp hair before it hit the floor. She pushed him gently so that he was sitting on the bed. One leg was thrown over so that she was straddling him, the towel the only thing between them. Y/N pulled back and looked down at him. His eyes were blown, looking at her like she was the only other person in the world. He flipped them over, towel falling off, so that she laying on the bed, her nightie bunching up to reveal that she was bare underneath. They both moaned as he touched her, feeling how wet she was for him, “Nothing underneath, sweetheart?”

“I haven’t been wearing any all night.” His eyes darkened at that and he tore the flimsy dress off of her, “Steve!”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” In a split second, he was back on her. His mouth traveled over her, leaving marks down her neck and chest. Her wrists were captured in one of his hands, leaving her completely exposed. Y/N keened underneath him as his teeth grazed over her nipple. She ground her hips up against him, looking for any friction she could get. His hand tangled into her hair and all she could focus on was how addictive he was. This moment had been a long time coming and neither ever wanted it to stop. Both were scared that this moment would end and inescapable awkwardness would settle in.

Heat grew from Y/N’s core, as Steve returned his attention to her neck. Her whole body was tingling, as she felt his muscular frame over hers and his arms trapping her in place. He was claiming her, sucking and biting marks all over her chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close and rolled her hips against him. “Fuck, sweetheart. Touch me.” Y/N slid her hands down and ran her nails over his abdomen. She felt his abs contract underneath her fingers. She pulled her hand away as he bit a spot on her neck and she arched against him. Steve smiled down at her, “Good girl.” She sucked in a breath and he smirked knowingly at her. All rational thought was replaced with the need for the other to touch them. She felt the heat of his mouth against her and his rough hands on her thighs. Steve held her legs apart and knelt down. “Are you going to keep being a good girl for me, Birdie?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, “Please, just touch me.”

“I am touching you, sweetheart.”

“Dammit, Stevie. I’ll do anything, just make me cum.”

“Anything, huh? I’m going to have to remember that.” Y/N whimpered and he finally gave her what she needed. She tangled her hand on his hair, as the other gripped the pillow above her. Steve’s teasing fingers made her cry out, as he continued his assault on her clit. He felt her fluttering around him and couldn’t wait to be inside of her any longer, “Are you sure, Birdie?”

“God, stop teasing and fuck me.” He kissed Y/N once more, before filling her completely. He slammed into her, then pulling almost completely out before claiming her again. She had never felt so full before, back arching as she called out his name. Steve buried his head against her neck, the room filled with their moans. She spread her legs and held tightly to his shoulders, as he pounded into her. The change in angle meant he was hitting that perfect spot and Y/N felt herself getting close. She slipped her hand down to rub her clit and clenched around Steve, her toes curling. He thrust a few more times before burying himself inside her completely.

The room was silent, except for them trying to catch their breaths and their heart rates to slow. Once he was slightly more clear-headed, Steve rolled them over so that she was laying on his chest. Neither spoke as Y/N lazily traced over one of the tattoos on his chest, eventually lulling them both into sleep.

The next morning, Jamie’s crying woke the sleeping pair. Steve groaned and buried his head into the pillows. Y/N rolled out of his grip, “Go back to sleep, I got him.” She pulled on a pair of leggings from her bag and Steve’s sweatshirt off the floor. She ignored the soreness between her legs as she padded into the sitting room and picked Jamie up. She settled him down and called for room service.

She played with the baby until the breakfast arrived and sent Becca a text inviting her to join for breakfast in the room. Y/N was in her own little world thinking about Steve and their night. Jamie had just started to have his bottle when a high-pitched shriek came from the adjoining room. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Bucky ripped the door open. “Sam, what the hell! I am not my sister!” Y/N choked on her laughter as the three men came out to stand in the living room, a mix of confusion and disgust on their faces.

When Steve had tumbled out, his hair was pointing in all directions and he had just a towel around him. Y/N could barely answer him when he asked what had happened because of how hard she was laughing, “Bucky is learning how Sam wakes his sister up in the morning apparently.”

“We never speak of this again!” The brunet pointed a threatening finger, “God, my head hurts!”

“I’m surprised you can stand up straight with how much you had to drink last night. I’ve got room service waiting for you if you’re hungry..”

“You are a goddess!” Sam exclaimed and rushed for the caffeine. Steve went to walk back into the room and get changed, when the dark-skinned man choked on his drink. “Well your back is telling me what you got up to last night, Rogers.” Raised red lines were all over his back where Y/N had clung to him the night before. He didn’t even try to look ashamed as he flashed them a grin and walked away. She, however, was embarrassed and Bucky took Jamie from her so that she could let Becca into the suite. He refused to meet his sister’s eyes and the others couldn’t stop giggling at the situation.

When they told the youngest Barnes what had happened, including the scratch marks on Steve’s back, she grinned, “Oh, so mommy and daddy finally got together.” Hearing herself referred to as Jamie’s mother made Y/N sick to her stomach. Suddenly, the realization of what last night could mean sent chills down her spine. Every uncertainty and fear from before she came home was flooding back and Y/N knew she had to get out of there.

“I just remembered that I need to go,” Y/N grabbed her bag and bolted out of the room.

Steve called after her, but she was in her own head. He whirled back around to look at his friends, “What the hell just happened?”

Y/N had rushed out and called an Uber back to her parent’s house. She snuck up to her room, hoping that everyone was still at the Ivory. Essentials were thrown into a duffle and stored in the back of her closet, nearly a carbon copy of what had happened 4 years earlier. That damned holiday party seemed to always lead to her running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@founding-fuck-bois

@animegirlgeeky

@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

@directorsnarrative

@marvelofwitch

@hollandstanevans

#avengers au #avengers imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #toomanyrobins #mafia au #mafia!avengers #mafia!steve #mob!au #mob!avengers #mob!steve #steve rogers #steve rogers au #avengers #avengers x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #mafia!steve rogers

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