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sukirichi · 3 years

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sweet lies [02]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. explicit smut, slight body worship, public sex, dirty talk, praising, toxic megumi, fwb dynamics, slight angst, body marking, sukuna bullying megumi, age gap, scratching, mentions of oral (m receiving) and mutual masturbation, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 also UHM do you guys want me to make the ending angsty or fluffy? i wrote out two versions so LOL let me know what you think! we’ll get more of the megumi scenes on the next chapter though~

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Sukuna isn’t kidding when he said he’ll have you unable to walk by the end of this.

You’ve lost count of how many times you guys have fucked.

Once more in the stalls when you thought of repaying the favor by sucking him off, followed by him growing impatient and hauling you inside his car. Both of you were too tired to go for another round, but were still very much addicted for the other’s touch that mutual masturbation seems like the best option.

Thankfully, Sukuna’s cut his nails, so having three of his fingers buried knuckle deep in you feels like absolute heaven. He’s not complaining about your smooth hands wrapped around his shaft either, especially not when you’ve had enough practice with Megumi to know just how to make a guy lose his mind. By the time you’ve made it back home, Sukuna’s grown hard again, too impatient to make it to the bed before he just fucks you raw against the wall. You’re trembling at his hold, left with no choice but to trust his strength to drop you on his cock and bounce you to his pleasure.

It’s a miracle you’ve made it on the bed.

His digital clock reads a quarter at three in the morning, and for a moment, you worry about how tired you’ll be in class tomorrow when Sukuna’s large hands grips your thighs sharply.

“Goddamn,” he hisses through clenched teeth, chuckling at the irresistible sight of your breasts bouncing before him. Limbs tangled, minds controlled with the primal need to fuck, and moans shared with his deep grunts – you somehow end up on top of him, your thighs feeling like they’re on the verge of giving up as you continue to ride his thick length.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he slaps your ass and causes your hips to rut deeper, forcing that delicious curve of his cock to meld with your walls. You throw your head back, palms planted on his chest, focused only on that burning pleasure between your thighs. “I could fuck you all night long.”

Even though you truly have no wish to, you shake your head, fingers balling into a fist. “I have class tomorrow, need to wake up early,” you protest, the words falling into deaf ears as Sukuna thrusts up into you. He must’ve noticed how you’re growing tired and took matters into his own hands, feet grounded on the mattress to pound deliriously into you. You’re debating whether to be thankful or frustrated he still has so much energy even after hours of fucking, but it honestly doesn’t matter. You’re falling into his chest, arms slipping on your equally sweat-covered bodies. Right now, you just wanted to cum – once more, again, one last time! “Ah, Sukuna, t-too much!”

“Too much?” he laughs and tangles his hand to caress your scalp, the gesture too soothing that you almost forgot he’s fucking you into oblivion. “Want me to go slow?”

“No…”

“Thought so, sweetheart,” his grin is absolutely cocky as he bends his knees in a fold, pushing you until your back rests on his muscular thighs. Your mouth falls open at his hands wrapping around your threat, keeping you right there, hips flat and grinding on his cock. “Come on. Come for me,” Sukuna urges, tightening his hold around your neck a little harder.

That’s all you need for your vision to blur and see stars, your body’s shaking uncontrollable. He’s thrusting with all his power and energy that it feels like you’re nothing but a hole on top of him, tongue falling open in a wanton manner as your drool trails down your chin.

You look filthy, you feel filthy, and yet, Sukuna sees it entirely different.

“So – fucking – gorgeous, fuck. I woulda fucked you sooner if I didn’t feel weird about it.”

“What?”

“Aw, come on, sweetheart,” he smirks at your half fucked out state. Sukuna rolls his hips in such a mind numbing manner that you end up staring at the ceiling, trying your hardest to decipher the colors of his room to get a grip of yourself. But he feels so hot, cock throbbing and pulsing inside you, your puffy lips encasing him with a translucent ring of cum and it feels so fucking good you don’t really understand what he’s saying anymore. “Did you really think I never saw you in my dreams?” he slaps your ass again, the reflexive response of tightening around him pulling a deep groan from the beautiful man beneath you. “I have such a sexy roommate, I couldn’t help it.”

“Then why didn’t you – ah, right there, shit – tell me?”

“Cuz,” he snickers and finally lets you breathe, your pupils blowing wide from the sudden flow of air. Sukuna kneads your breasts greedily, never stopping his mind-numbing rhythm of ramming deep into you. Your body burns, your thighs ache, your pussy feels sensitive but you can’t find the energy to stop him. Instead, you fall prey, failing in your mission to keep him wrapped around your fingers because now you’re wrapped around his cock, and you were quite fucking addicted to it. “You’re my friend’s student. Felt so fucking wrong.”

“What’s the difference now?”

“The difference is,” Sukuna’s face contorts into something of discomfort for a moment before he leans forward, his sturdy grip homing in on your hips again. You feel his searing breath on your ear, so parching it puts the warmth of your pussy to shame. “Having you like this has never felt so right, and I’ll keep fucking you if you let me.”

“I-I’d let you,” you concede absentmindedly and capture his lips for a sloppy kiss, tongues giving up on a battle of dominance. You’re always so clingy when you’re about to come, something Megumi never fails to chastise you for, and you fear Sukuna might push you away as you wrap an arm around him, nails painfully scratching down his back. Red marks leave a trail on its wake until his blood pierces through the sheets, the pain manifested through the increasing roughness of his pace. Now it’s your turn to whimper in his ear, pulling the man close and tugging harshly at the ends of his hair. Gosh, were you actually crying? “Sukuna, I’m close! Yes, yes, right there!”

Sukuna groans at the erotic sounds you reward him with. “Come for me, that’s right, ohhhh,” he stills inside you, his seed spilling deep inside you. You wince at the burst of warmth spreading all over your belly and Sukuna chuckles at your bulging belly. He presses down on it to coax his cum to trickle all over his cock, and he’s fucking filthy – you learn easily – to watch you make a mess on his cock with a childish smile on his face.

You push yourself off him and fall to his side, him following suit not long afterwards. The room feels completely stuffed from your intense fucking, the bruises on your body and scratches on his back a huge attestment to that.

Your legs remain wide open as you clench around nothing, his cum oozing out like a waterfall. Sukuna (that damned pervert) dips two fingers into your hole for one last moment just to drench his fingers in it, his eyes lit up in wonder while he lets it web around his fingers. You snicker at his actions and roll to his side, eyes fluttering close from the wave of exhaustion that comes into full force.

The lingerie set you intended to wear for Megumi was now ripped at the other side of the room, discarded, forgotten – merely evidence of a moment that had never been given to him.

Oddly enough, you don’t feel bad, not even when Sukuna faces you, his cheeks squished by his soft pillows. “I’m spent. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired. My gym sessions can’t compare to this.”

“You go to the gym?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t born this gorgeous, you know. I had to work hard for this,” Sukuna gestures to his body. You can’t help but follow the gestures and admire the hard planes of his muscle ripped above one another, the smatter of dark hair leading down his hips adding to his already immense sexual charisma. It makes you want to jump on him all over again, and you have to bite your lip to resist that urge, rolling your eyes at him in favor of letting him know you could totally go for another round.

“Dork.”

“Got me laid though, was worth the effort,” he jokes, and you both laugh.

It’s actually…weird, to laugh so casually with someone like this. It might be normal for Sukuna in his past sexual endeavors, but it’s totally a different thing for you. You and Megumi had never even bothered with aftercare. As long as he’s satisfied himself, he’d clean himself off in the bathroom and wear his sweatpants, winking at you before he leaves you alone all over again. The memory – albeit not really a regrettable one – is still painful each time you’re reminded you’ll keep coming back to him.

But are things different now? Could you go back to Megumi? You only ever wanted to fuck Sukuna because you’re sad and horny, but it wouldn’t be fair to him, especially when your roommate has been nothing but nice to you. Besides, him being a little more decent doesn’t immediately equate he’s different than Megumi.

For all you know, you could just be another cheap fuck. Sukuna is older and sexier, after all, he’s clearly had a lot more experience than you do.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna rests his head on his palms, elbows flat on the bed as he turns to you. The expression on his face is unreadable, but there’s some sort of softness behind it – a softness you’re not really familiar with.

“Hey. I don’t exactly know what you’re going through, not everything, anyway, but whatever we have right now, I want you to know it’s not because I see just as a pretty pussy, okay?” he says with a straight face, but you really shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up because Sukuna smirks, mischievous eyes darting back and forth to your soaked pussy and bare breasts. “Although you do have a pretty pussy. Can I eat you out again?”

With that, you snatch the pillow underneath him and whack it straight at his face. Sukuna laughs at your protests, the sound growing louder and a lot more mocking the harder you hit him. “Gosh, Sukuna, shut up!”

You end up hitting him way too many times in the face that he can’t get his words through, and before you could react, Sukuna’s ripped the pillow away from you. He cages you in his arms and hovers over you once more, his boneless dick grazing the insides of your thigh. It’s not meant to be sexual, and nothing about his stance gives off anything that shows he wants to do it again, but you can’t help but feel aroused, shifting your legs up and down the bed as you squirm.

“Seriously though,” he repeats, “We can be casual, or this could be a one time thing. Card’s all yours to play. If you want to forget everything tomorrow, I’d gladly do it. Let’s just go back to the way we were-”

“Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Did you really think I was only using you to distract myself?”

Sukuna’s lips flatten into a line. “I’m not stupid,” he says somberly, “I could tell you were still thinking about him. Not that I mind, though, you can’t stop yourself from loving someone,” Faintly, you’re distracted by his thumbs rubbing at your pulse point. It’s so lulling you want to fall asleep, but Sukuna isn’t done talking. “My point is…you don’t have to worry about being weird with me. We could just be friends with benefits, if you want, and not the kind you have with your boy toy either. ”

His blatantly catches you off guard and your eyes widen before they narrow at him, trying your best to hide your embarrassment. If Megumi was painfully honest, Sukuna’s ridiculously blunt that his mere words make your heart do weird things you’d rather not feel.

Careful, you remind yourself, Megumi is the one you want. You have to keep reminding yourself that before your feelings get the best of you. It’s Megumi, it’s always been Megumi and it always will be Megumi. Sukuna is just your roommate who’s nice enough to take your mind off things. You only wish you weren’t lying too much in case he gets the wrong idea you’re leading him on, but then again, isn’t that what you’re doing?

Friends with benefits or not – you still have no plans on getting involved with this guy any longer.

It’s always Megumi. You just really needed a quick fuck, someone whose dick didn’t belong with the guy you’re so hung up on over. The change feels nice and you definitely feel a lot better than the last time you met Megumi, but this guilt…it tastes bitter on your tongue, too heavy to swallow and ignore. It’s always Megumi, you tell yourself again in an attempt to relieve your pain.

Though it doesn’t subside and you huff in exasperation, turning away from Sukuna. You can’t stand looking at him right now.

“I’m not,” you mumble weakly, but the tears – the guilt, the heartbreak of not being Megumi’s lover, the regret and the ironic need to be closer to Sukuna feels all so confusing – all threaten to burst through. You don’t want him to see you cry, that would be lame, so you scoot closer to him and kiss his shoulder as you shyly ask, “C-can we cuddle?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, pulling you closer, “You don’t have to sound too nervous to ask.”

“Sorry, it’s just-”

“He never does that?”

“…Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not him,” Sukuna answers confidently, surprising you when he grabs your ass to press you flush against him. You’re both sweaty and hot to the point it’s uncomfortable, but Sukuna smells so sweet with his lingering cologne that you can’t help yourself from planting your face in his neck, breathing in the little hums he makes. Sukuna kisses the crown of your head – which is a little too sweet than you’d like – while his other hand runs down your back in a slow, sensual manner. Hell, it feels close to body worshipping, and you hate that you silently want more of this. “I’d cuddle you every day if you asked me to.”

“You’re surprisingly sweet,” you voice with a smile. Sukuna’s chest rumbles from the low laughter, and like that, you cling to him like he’s the only sturdy pillar in your life. It’s pathetic, maybe even desperate, but if he doesn’t mind, then why should you?

However, the moment is quickly ruined when the bell rings. “Shit, I forgot he was coming over!”

Sukuna glares at the door and holds you tighter, almost possessively, and refuses to let you go even as you squirm under him. “At three in the morning?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to meet him right now,” you groan helplessly.

Sukuna shoots you a blank look after that, then shoots out of the bed in an instant. You watch as he quickly dresses up in a fresh pair of sweatpants, grabbing a random hoodie from the back of his chair, presumably to hide the scratch marks. You have to hide your smile behind your hand because he looks so drool-worthy with marks littered on his already marked skin, and the fact he lets you mark him is even hotter.

He pauses at the door for a moment, pointing a finger at where you peered up at him curiously. “Stay there. I’ll talk to him and say you went out or whatever. Just make sure to silence your phone in case he calls. Better yet, turn it off.”

Sukuna closes the door behind him, already on the way to the entrance just as you press your ears against the door to eavesdrop. There’s a slight shuffling before the door unlocks, then, “Why the fuck did you lock-” Megumi pauses in his words, and you can perfectly picture his infamous scowl painting his handsome features already. Gosh, you wish you could actually see it, but if Megumi catches you sleeping with someone else, he might totally lose interest in you. That’s not something you could afford to happen.

“Oh. You’re her roommate.” You snigger at his usual what the fuck tone – how Megumi of him.

“Hey, kid, it’s a little too late for a visit, don’t you think?” Sukuna taunts, and it takes everything in you to not burst through the door at that moment. You’re stuck between wanting to laugh and crying, mostly because you would love and hate for Megumi to get riled up. “Do your parents know you’re here? Kids shouldn’t be out this late.”

“I’m not a fucking kid, I’m in uni,” he defends, “Do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her.”

Deciding fuck it, you open the door by an inch, just enough to peek. As expected, Megumi is glaring behind Sukuna’s shoulders in search of you. Meanwhile, Sukuna’s completely calm, checking his nails boredly as if Megumi isn’t fuming in front of him. And boy, do you know how much Megumi hates being ignored. “Oh, I think she went out, I don’t know why though. House was empty when I got here.”

“She didn’t tell you where she was going?”

At Megumi’s imposing tone, Sukuna tilts his head to scrutinize Megumi. Now that you’re seeing them together, Sukuna’s twice the size of Megs, their height and shoulder width too different to start comparing. But knowing Megumi, he’s not going to back down from a tattooed guy twice his size, not even as he sarcastically remarks, “Ain’t you her friend? She should be telling you that kind of stuff.”

Truthfully, you expected he would put up more of a fight. The two of them share a heated staring competition before Megumi scoffs, the first one to look away. “Whatever,” he dismisses, “Tell her to pick her damn phone up. I’ve been calling for the past hour.”

“I think I should tell her to get better friends.”

“What was that?”

“I said get home safely,” Sukuna chirps. Even with his back turned to you, you could tell Sukuna’s just further pressing his buttons with a grin that’s not meant to be inviting at all. Just when you think it’s done, however, Sukuna finishes off with, “Kid.”

Megumi rages. His blue eyes flame into something feral, his fists balled at his sides. He’s always had a temper issue and you nearly reveal yourself to stop whatever fight is about to ensue, but Sukuna’s already closing the door, ridding any opportunity for the younger one to retaliate. At the sound of the door closing, Sukuna leans against the door, his smile still plastered on his face as if he knows you’re watching the whole time. He meets your eyes from the slight peep of his door, waving his hands sarcastically.

“Sukuna, you didn’t have to be so mean.”

“Sorry,” he isn’t apologetic at all. “Next time I’ll be nicer to your asshole crushes,” he adds with a slight roll of his eyes and you punch his chest playfully. You don’t stop him from grabbing your wrists to embrace you in a hug that doesn’t seem so platonic – but not so suggestive either. Sukuna rests his chin on top of your hand while he sways you both side to side, his voice muffled in your hair. “I understand why you’re attracted to him though. He’s really handsome.”

“Yeah, he is,” you agree sadly, thinking of how much it’s really all a waste Megumi has to be like that. “Just sucks his personality ruins everything.”

“A pretty face is always deceiving,” Sukuna suddenly pulls away and holds you an arm’s length away. “Hey, want to have early breakfast?”

“I think that would be late dinner,” you frown at him.

“Whatever, food is food,” he responds rather excitedly, and you watch as Sukuna rummages through the fridge. Now that you think about it, having sex so much really took a toll on you, and your stomach grumbles loudly. Sukuna hides his chuckles through the fridge but you hear him anyway, shouting at him that you’re not hungry. “Wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Now go get cleaned and changed, I’ll make something for you.”

If anyone were to tell you that a good fucking is all that’s needed for you to immediately form a new kind of friendship with your roommate, you’d call them weird. Sukuna isn’t necessarily out of reach, you and him just simply didn’t cross paths.

But now, you’re dressed comfortably in his boxers and the oversized shirt you stole from him, eating the slightly burn cheese sandwich he’s made, sharing conversation and laughing with him like you’ve been doing it for such a long time. Your sandwich is actually half forgotten on the plate as you whack your palms on the counter, “That’s how you and Prof Gojo met? I never would’ve expected you guys fought over a girl!”

“He was fucking annoying in high school,” Sukuna grumbles over an angry bite, “He was getting all the girls that when someone confessed to me, the hottest chick, no less, he straight up punched me in the face,” you laugh as you imagine the memory of a younger, already rebellious looking Sukuna getting smacked by the even more intolerable Gojo Satoru. Sukuna is lost in his own memories as well, shaking his head from around the last bites of his bread. It’s clear he hates the burnt crust judging from the way he turns a little green, but he’s bragged about his cooking skills so proudly that he has to save face in front of you. “Ah, such good times,” he muses before wincing at his own words, dropping his bread in disgust. “Damn, I sound old, don’t I?”

“You’re only like, five years older than me, it’s fine,” you giggle, “I like the maturity that comes with older people. You’re a lot easier to be with than guys my age.”

“Please,” Sukuna smirks, “Just say you like fucking older men. I won’t judge.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would be jumping over the counter to strangle your roommate who’s now running like hell, your laughter bursting through the once silent apartment, you would call them a liar. But now, you and Sukuna are panting on the floor, too tired from sprinting all around before calling it quits. Maybe it’s a lie – maybe this connection will never really be that much of a big deal – but as long as this lie and play pretend of friendship lasts, you’ll just enjoy every sweet moment of it.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed) (bold can’t be tagged) @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #ryoumen sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #sukuna x reader angst #sukuna x reader romance #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagines #sukuna imagines #sweet lies: part two

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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THE DEAL

a/n: i literally wrote it in less than a day because i was inspired by a movie... of god, i have issues, but ANYWAYS! this one is a classic friends with benefits to lovers story with so much angst and a grandiose love confession at the end so buckle up, you are in for a treat!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEASE give feedback if you enjoyed it!!

pairing: Harry X Reader

warnings: some, drinking, sexual content, a hell lot of it, angst and messy emotions, it’s a lot!!

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

If your life was some romantic comedy his would be the moment where the camera would zoom on you, your eyes blankly glued to the ceiling, makeup from last night smudged under them as a muscular, inked arm gets thrown across your chest, a snoozing man beside you as you have the internal little monologue.

“You’re wondering how I got into this situation, right? Completely naked with one of my best friends after a night spent with heavy drinking and ending up fucking in his apartment until we both fell asleep.”

Yeah, this is probably what the voiceover would say as the camera would slowly get farther from you, Harry’s sleeping figure coming into the frame while you’re still lying like a damn statue. This was not supposed to happen. Not that it was bad, because oh God! Harry really is as good as his ex-girlfriends gushed to you when you met them on night outs. You could never blame the women for falling for him, he has the charm, the personality, the humor and definitely the looks. If you weren’t you, you’d be one of those girls who would do anything to get his attention just for a split second. But you’re not.

Growing up with a single mother that was repeatedly fucked over by several men, you were taught to be the kind of independent woman who needs no man. Who only uses them for whatever reason and throws them away before they could even realize what’s happening. Feelings could never be involved in the equations, those are just not for you.

For a while you thought you weren’t even capable of feeling anything at all. But the way you cried when your hamster you got for your sixteenth birthday died changed your mind and you realized that you are just saving yourself the time of allowing people to make you develop feelings for them and then give them the chance to break your heart. You’ve seen that happen to your mother enough times to know that you don’t want to go through that. It’s not worth it and why would you risk it all when you could easily get what you need and move on to the next one?

Your friends always joked how you’re gonna be the single aunt to their children later who would take them to clubs and honestly? You’re just fine with that. Because you always thought that while your married friends will be busy with keeping their marriage together with whatever pathetic man they chose to marry, you’ll be living your best life without a worry on the world. That sounds pretty good for you.

There’s no need to make it prettier than what it is, you’ve had a lot of hookups the past years but you always tried to keep yourself in check, have some kind of rules to follow so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else in the process. One of those were that under no circumstances would you ever sleep with a friend. No matter how badly you want to, no matter if they are begging, it can never happen.

But you broke that rule.

Turning your head to the side you look at Harry’s sleeping face squished into the pillow and you almost wince, because you know that when he wakes up, this gonna hurt like a bitch. He’s gonna freak out, or what’s worse, he’ll want to take it further, take you out on a date… be in a relationship with you! And you’ll have to break his heart because none of those will ever happen.

You and Harry went to high school together and he is one of the very few people you stayed in touch after graduation. Though you grew a little apart when you went to different universities, later on you both somehow ended up in New York and while you’re working as a graphic designer at a magazine, Harry is making good money from writing music for other artists. He’s been one of your closest friends these past years and while you’ve always found him attractive, you should have never let this happen, because it will mess everything up and you didn’t want to lose such a good friend.

Harry stirs in his sleep next to you, his hand squeezing your side before his eyes blink open, green irises finding your wide eyes. He stops for a moment, looking around, taking in his surroundings before his eyes fall closed again.

“Wow, must have been one wild night?” he mumbles into the pillow before a raspy chuckle falls from his lips.

Last night, the two of you and a couple of your mutual friends celebrated that Harry has gotten his biggest deal so far, having to write an entire album for an up-and-coming artist, so you all got pretty wasted, especially you and him. It’s a little blurry how the two of you ended up like this, but you do remember wildly making out hidden somewhere behind the bar before he asked if you wanted to come to his place. You stupid little thing, should have said no…

Groaning, Harry rolls to his back, his arm falling from you as he lies sprawled out next to you.

“The tequila shots. Shouldn’t have had them,” you rasp out, a smirk tugging on his lips at your words. “So, um… we both can agree this was a one time thing, right?”

Harry peeks at you, pushing himself up a bit so his head rests against the headboard. The sheets slide down a bit lower on his body, revealing his toned chest and his several tattoos. Memories of you kissing them eagerly last night flash into your mind and you can only hope you’re not blushing like a school girl.

“What if I don’t agree?” Harry cocks an eyebrow and you almost groan. You knew this was going to happen!

“Harry, I’m not going out with you. You know me, I don’t do that. It’s nice that you think that it could work between us, but I don’t do relationships and I’m not changing my rules, not even for you.”

Harry starts laughing, as if you just said the best joke of the century, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You give him a puzzled look as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest.

“Who talked about dating, Y/N?” he then asks. “You said last night was a one time thing. We fucked last night. What if that wasn’t the only time we did that?”

You start to put the pieces together, though you’d definitely be sharper if you already had your first coffee of the day.

“Are you trying to start a… friends with benefits thing with me?”

“I mean, you could call it whatever you want. I personally really enjoyed last night and judging from the way you were screaming my name, you did too.” Now you’re for sure blushing. “Why not do it again?”

“This is not a movie, H. I don’t think it’s manageable without ruining our friendship.”

“Have you ever tried something like this?” You shake your head no. “Then how could you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Never,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. We are both cool, smart people. I think we can give it a try and whenever someone is feeling like they had enough, we’re just gonna stop.”

“What if you catch feelings?” you ask, raising eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but what if you fall for me?” he throws the question back with a cocky smirk and you smack his naked chest.

“You know I never do that!”

“I don’t think you can just decide that, but alright,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I promise you I won’t catch feelings for you, Y/N. I swear on my…”

“Your mom’s and sister’s life!” you point at him. It’s clear that he thinks it’s silly, but you just keep staring at him until he gives in.

“I swear on my mum’s and my sister’s life that I will not catch feelings for you, Y/N.”

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

“Whenever you’ve had enough of me,” he smirks back, so pleased with himself that it’s clear he doesn’t think that could ever happen.

“If you keep that cocky look on your face it’s gonna be a very short deal, Styles,” you warn him, but he just laughs before he quickly pulls you back down to bed, getting on top of you, his hips sinking between your legs and you gasp when you feel that he is already semi-hard.

“Why don’t we get a head start on it then?” he offers, his lips crashing against yours before they travel down your body and soon enough he gives you something that’s a thousand times better than a coffee in the morning.

At first you’re clearly hesitant about it. Not sure if it was a good idea or you just ruined everything between you and Harry, but soon enough you realize that it wasn’t as bad of a decision as you thought it to be.

Harry is the one to call you for the first time, two days after the night you drunkenly hooked up. You’re just leaving the office when he hits you up, asking if you have plans for the night or you’re free to go over to his place. An hour later you find yourself pressed up against the wall of his apartment’s hallway, both of you eager to get each other out of your clothes. Now that it all happens without either of you being drunk, you actually have the chance to think about how good it is with him. He is just the perfect mixture of dominant and soft, knows when to be the boss and when he has to slow down a bit.

He makes you cum three times. Three mind-blowing times, and you also give him two orgasms. You try to make it equal and make it three, but he respectfully says no.

“If you touched my dick again I think I would start crying,” he chuckles jokingly, so you don’t even think about pushing it.

Instead, the two of you order Chinese, have dinner together, talking like you always used to before the deal and then you go home. There’s no awkwardness, no weird situations, not even when you leave. Harry leans closer and for a moment you think he is gonna be corny and kiss you goodbye, but then you feel him smack your ass before pushing you out the door, just like he always did before, joking about how he is gonna charge you rent if you stay any longer.

Nothing has changed, only that you now spend a good chunk of your time together naked, moaning each other’s name before you get back to your usual.

So after that you don’t shy away from reaching out to Harry as well. It becomes a regular thing, the two of you meeting up about two of three times a week. You fuck, hang out a bit and go your separate ways. Slowly, you start to forget about times when you stayed dressed up for more than ten minutes after meeting Harry.

You keep switching between your and his place, but sometimes meet somewhere in the middle. You’ve had sex in a restaurant bathroom, in his car in a parking garage and even in his cousin’s place in Brooklyn. That was a bit odd but still quite pleasing.

Tonight is going to be the first time you’re gonna be out with all your friends and Harry since the deal was made. No one knows about it and you intend to keep it that way.

Once you’re done at work you head home, texting Leticia, another friend from high school to meet you at your place to get ready together. She was Harry’s friend at first, what’s better, she openly hated you at first for some reason.

“You just had a punchable face at fifteen, you can’t blame me,” she used to tell you. It was actually Harry who made the two of you friends and you’ve been close ever since.

You get to your apartment almost at the same time. Leticia starts rambling about her asshole of a boss at the law firm where she works at as you open a bottle of wine to start the evening while you roam through your wardrobe for an outfit.

“Is Leo coming? I owe him a few bucks from last time,” Leticia wonders, digging into your dresser for a pair of tights she can borrow to pair with her leather skirt.

“I think he is, but he is going to be late. He is coming from Staten Island from his dad’s,” you muse, checking yourself out in the red dress you just tried on, not quite pleased with the look, so you quickly work down the zipper and look for something else.

“Um, whose is this?”

Turning around you see that Leticia is holding up a shirt Harry left at yours a few days ago. She is clearly confused about the men’s clothing between your stuff, because you are not one to steal them from the men you sleep with since you don’t really want anything from them to remind you of them.

“Oh, um, that’s… That’s Harry’s. He left it here a few days ago,” you shrug, not making a big deal out of it, but Leticia is nosier than that.

“And why is Harry leaving his clothes around your place?”

“Is that a crime?” you snort, trying to play it cool.

“No, but in what kind of situation did this shirt come off of Harry and end up in your dresser?”

You can’t think of a good answer that would stop her from interrogating you, and the way you’ve just gotten silent is telling her more than words could. She drops the shirt, eyes widening at you and it’s clear that she put two and two together.

“Oh my God! You’re sleeping with Harry!”

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

“You two are totally fucking! What the fuck!” she gasps in complete shock as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Let me explain it, alright? W-We hooked up on the night when we went out to celebrate his big album deal.”

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

“Yeah. So we were both very drunk and it just happened. And I really thought it would ruin everything but we somehow ended up making a deal.”

“Jesus, you guys are acting out the Friends With Benefits movie? Who are you, Mila fucking Kunis?”

“It’s not like that!” you defend yourself quickly, but then you realize that it’s just like that so far. “Well, it kind of is, but the ending won’t be like that.”

“Do you really think you can just do it with absolutely no strings?” Leticia sighs, her hands coming to her hips as she stares back at you.

“It’s been going great, so I really think it’s doable. And if any of us decides they had enough, we’ll just call it quits.”

“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” she rolls her eyes. “One of you will catch feelings and someone is gonna end up crying, Y/N.”

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head stubbornly. “He promised it won’t happen.”

“Feelings don’t give a shit about promises! I hope you really know what you’re doing, because I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you,” she grumbles before throwing Harry’s shirt back into the drawer, grabbing the tights she’s been looking for.

Leticia doesn’t hold a grudge for the news she just found out, but she surely has gotten you thinking. Is it really gonna end bad? Why can’t there be a scenario where it goes perfectly fine and no one gets hurt? Harry promised it’s gonna be alright and he has been proven right so far, so why are you having second guesses now?

Arriving at the bar the majority of your friend group is already there, including Harry. You sit across him in the small booth, just exchanging a quick smile before the first round arrives and the evening starts. You allow yourself to take a better look at him while he listens to Mitch’s story and you can’t say that you don’t find him hot. He is wearing a vintage, floral printed shirt, the first few buttons left undone, so you have a nice view of his chest and his necklace you’ve felt under your lips so many times before when you were kissing down his body. He keeps twisting and playing with his several rings and it makes you stare at his hands for a tad bit longer than you intended to. God, he looks so damn good, you really just want to fuck him here and now.

You keep changing who goes up to the bar to order and the third round is yours, so sliding out of the booth you go to the bar and wait for your turn. A young, handsome guy is making the drinks and you clearly catch his eyes.

“And what can I get for you, beautiful?” he smirks at you when it’s finally your turn.

“Two vodka sodas, a martini and three vodka cranberries,” you smile back at him with a hint of flirting in your tone.

It’s kind of second nature to you, a few charming smiles and winks have gotten a lot of free things for you in your life and you never miss a chance to use your advances.

“All that for one pretty girl?” he teases you.

“I would be all over the floor if I drank all of it,” you chuckle, pulling your card out of your wallet, tapping it on the terminal as he finishes up the drinks, kindly putting them on a tray so you can easily bring them over to the booth.

“Don’t worry, I would surely pick you up then,” he winks at you, placing the last drink to the tray before you thank him and head back.

As you take your previous seat you notice that Harry is watching you intently.

“What?” you mouth him over the conversation at the table.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning his gaze away, grabbing his drink and focusing back on everyone else.

You go up to the bar two more times, once to ask for some chips and once for some napkins after a drink has gotten spilt onto the table. Every time you exchange a few words with the bartender and you have to admit, he has a great sense of humor paired with his looks.

Sometime later in the evening you decide to switch to water, so you go up to the bar a fourth time, the bartender coming to you right away at this point. As you wait for him to grab you your drink you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning to the side you see Harry standing next to you.

“Hey, want to come to my place after this?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear. His hot breath hits your exposed skin on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine, especially with his hand still on the small of your back.

“You want a rerun of your first time?” you smirk back at him, referring to the drinks you both have had, though it’s definitely not as wild as that night was.

“No, but this dress is making it hard not to want to rip it off,” he bluntly tells you as you glance down at yourself. At last you decided to wear a black bodycon dress that surely shows every dip and curve of your body and apparently Harry has been enjoying the show.

The bartender arrives with your water, his eyes falling on Harry and you see that he is a little taken aback by his presence.

“Hey man, can you get me another one as well? I’ll pay for both,” Harry nods at him and there’s something foreign in his tone that you can’t really put your finger on. The bartender just nods back and goes to grab another water.

“What if I wasn’t in the mood?” you tease him, continuing the discussion where you left it a moment ago.

“Oh, please!” he chuckles smugly. “I saw you eyeing me from across the table, Y/N. I know you are definitely in the mood.”

He is right. So damn right. You’ve been crossing your legs under the table for a while now, feeling your arousal growing every time you saw him run his tongue over his lips or whenever his finger played with the lip of his glass, imagining him doing the same with your body.

Biting into your bottom lip you need to take a deep breath, but when Harry sees your teeth digging into your lip, he loses his patience.

“Or we can just do it now,” he growls lowly, grabbing your hand before he starts pulling you towards the restrooms. You don’t even have the chance to protest, not that you want to.

He is quick to pull you into an empty restroom, locking the door behind the two of you before his lips attack yours, pushing you against the door with vigor and hunger. His hands are already bunching your dress up around your waist and you moan his name when your hips meet and you feel his hard length through his jeans.

“We have to be quick, so no one notices we disappeared,” he pants as he helps you up to the counter, your back hitting the cold mirror behind you.

“Then shut up and just fuck me,” you challenge him and it makes him absolutely feral.

You don’t have time to enjoy it the way you usually do in bed, but the excitement of the situation alone has gotten you so wet that you’re already dripping when he pushes your panties to the side with one hand while his other works on his own pants.

“Fuck, already so wet for me, huh?” he breathes out, his lips brushing against yours before they kiss you fully.

“Just like how you’re rock hard for me,” you grin against his lips, a hand wandering down to his cock as you pull it out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before he pulls a condom out of his back pocket and wraps himself up. “Were you counting on this quickie, Styles?” you ask when you realize that he just had a condom ready on him.

“I knew for sure I’m gonna fuck you tonight, but wasn’t sure how long I’m gonna last,” he grins, capturing your lips again before he pushes himself inside you with no warning, making you both gasp.

“Fuck! Harry!” you moan as he starts moving rapidly, definitely not taking his time like he usually does. He is pounding into you without mercy, panting against your lips as his ring clad fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you somewhere public?” he growls, making your legs curl around his hips.

Your hands move up his chest and neck, fingers tangling into his curls and you give them a tug, earning an animalistic grunt from him as he starts going even harder and faster. You’re rapidly getting closer to your orgasm.

“You close?” he pants and you nod. “Come on, cum all over my cock, Y/N.”

A few more thrusts and your walls tighten around his dick, squeezing him as you gasp, riding your high, your head falling backwards, meeting with the mirror behind you. Harry follows you a few pushes later, moaning your name repeatedly before his movements come to a halt and you both take a moment to catch your breath.

When he pulls out you both just quietly clean yourselves up, fixing your clothes and hair so you don’t entirely scream sex with your appearances.

“My offer to come to mine after still stands,” he smirks, running a hand through his hair before you head out.

“Tempting, but I have some work to do in the morning, so no,” you turn him down, stepping out to the dark hallway that leads back to the bar. Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back, his lips smashing against yours, surprising you with his move. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your bottom lip hard before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” you ask out of breath.

“If you’re not coming over, I needed something to have a good night,” he shrugs with a smug smirk before you return to the bar.

You catch the bartender’s look as you finally get your waters and Harry pays for them. You catch the two men eyeing each other for a moment before you and Harry return to the table and you forget about the whole thing.

A Sunday afternoon you’re lounging at Harry’s. You jumped at each other’s bones when you arrived, but now you’re chilling on his couch, watching a series you both wanted to start so you decided to give it a go together. Your leg is lying across Harry’s lap, his hands absentmindedly kneading your thighs. It feels nice, like a massage, especially after how sore he made you earlier, stretching you out more than he usually does with a new pose you tried out.

Your phone chimes next to you and tearing your gaze away from the TV you check to see who just sent you a text. It was one of your coworkers, Anthony, he sent you a raging text about how he still has no idea what to wear to the company party that’s gonna be next Saturday and you realize that you totally forgot about it.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

“I have this stupid work party next weekend and I totally forgot about it,” you growl, checking your calendar quickly if you can squeeze in a quick shopping spree before Saturday or you’ll have to find something in your closet.

“Aren’t those things nice with a lot of free food and drinks?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it, because all my colleagues bring their partners and I’m usually the only single one and they keep trying to set me up with someone,” you roll your eyes even at the thought of having to suffer through another one of those awkward conversations about your love life. Like it’s any of their concern!

“I can go with you if that helps,” he offers and you give him a look over your phone. “What? I’m sure if you brought someone they wouldn’t bug you.”

“But we are not together,” you remind him narrowing your eyes at him.

“They don’t have to know that. It’s a win-win, Y/N. Your colleagues would stop nagging you and I can eat and drink for free,” he smirks, clearly pleased with his little plan.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

“See? Then it’s settled,” he pats your legs, smirking widely at you, but you’re still not entirely convinced. “Come on, Y/N. It’s gonna be fun!”

“This is so cliché, Harry!” you groan, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. “Pretending to be a couple? Straight out of a damn movie.”

Harry lifts your legs up so he can get out from under them, placing them back to the cushion before he climbs over to you, half of his body pressing onto yours as he squints his eyes at you.

“We can fuck in the bathroom, if you want,” he bluntly offers and you just start laughing at his dirty mind and technique of convincing you. “What? There’s literally no better offer out there. Free food, free drinks and free sex. Really good sex, if I may add,” he points out and you smack his chest lightly.

“Didn’t know you were thinking about charging me for the sex,” you joke.

“Might as well do, baby. Especially if it’s the best you can get,” he smugly huffs and you’d retort something funny, but you get caught up on the name.

“Baby? Since when are you calling me baby?”

“Since we are gonna be a couple next week. Gotta rehearse, baby,” he repeats the nickname and a foreign feeling bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Why is this one little word making you feel things you haven’t before? “And you know what else we can rehearse?” he continues, oblivious to your inner dialogue.

You don’t get to answer upon feeling his hand slide between your legs, fingers gently pressing onto your clothed clit and though you can’t stop a moan from slipping through your lips, you still grab his wrist and pull him away.

“My legs are too sore, I wouldn’t enjoy another round of you pounding into me,” you tell him and you can see the proud glimmer in his eyes that he was the one who got you into this state, though he luckily doesn’t comment on it.

“It doesn’t have to be pounding, then,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses you, taking his time as his hand frees itself from your grip and slides under your shorts and panties, fingers meeting your already throbbing bud.

He repositions himself so one of his thighs are between your legs, his lips never leaving yours as his fingers start drawing circles on your clit, sending pleasure down your body in waves.

“Fuck,” you breathe out against his lips when two of his fingers tease your entrance before pushing all the way inside, curling them between your clenching, wet walls.

“No, we are not fucking right now,” he smirks, never missing a chance to joke around and you want to retort to his comment, but words get caught in your throat when his thumb starts playing with your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“So, are we on for Saturday? It’s gonna be fun, hm?”

The little shit is using his fingers to convince you and he has the audacity to ask you questions when you are about to see stars. Sometimes you really do hate how big of a smug fucker Harry is, but it’s hard to feel hatred for him when he is about to make you cum again.

“I-I don’t… Harry!” you gasp when he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, right when you were so close. “I was about to fucking cum!” you growl, raging eyes meeting his green irises.

“I know,” he chuckles. “Say that you’re in and I’ll make you cum.”

“You motherfu—“

You don’t get to finish, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers return, moving faster than before, quickly pushing you towards the edge again.

“Say it. Say it, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips as your chest is heaving and you start buckling your hips to meet his movements.

“Fuck… Okay! I’m in, just please make me cum!” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he smirks and finishes you off without any more teasing.

You cry out his name, fingers digging into his muscles as you push your thighs together, trapping his hand between them while he keeps fingering you oh so perfectly. He makes sure you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he pulls his fingers out and without batting an eye, he just licks them and fixes your panties and shorts before returning to his previous position with your legs across his lap, starting the show like nothing really happened.

Saturday morning you’re able to quickly get your nails done and Leticia comes with you, the two of you having brunch together afterwards. You go to a new place near the nail salon and as the waiter arrives with your orders, you notice that he slides a napkin onto the table with a small smile.

Grabbing it you see a phone number scribbled onto it. Normally, you send back a smile and tug the napkin into your purse, but this time you just leave it on the table and decide to ignore it.

“What the hell is up with you?” Leticia asks and glancing up at her you see her gesturing towards the napkin. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the approach which is very unlike you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just… not interested,” you shrug, reaching for your fork.

“Not interested? The dude looks like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Johnny Depp. He is exactly your type, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just not seeking another hookup right now, that’s it.”

“Oh my God!” Leticia gasps and you give her a puzzled look.

“What?”

“You don’t want other men because of Harry!”

“What? That’s crazy,” you laugh, because she has clearly left her mind at the salon for even thinking that.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else than Harry since you’ve made your little deal?”

“I, uhh… Flirted with the bartender when we were out together.”

“Flirting doesn’t count, not even in relationships.”

“I don’t think many would agree with that, Tish,” you huff.

“Okay, but did you have any interest in fucking someone else?”

“I don’t get it why you are making a big deal out of it. Why would I seek anyone else if I’m perfectly pleased by him?”

“Honey, that’s like… how relationships work.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, though what would you know about relationships? Your first and only one was when you were seventeen and it lasted twenty-one pathetic days.

“Are you fucking with anyone else?” She asks, eyebrows raised at you as you shake your head no. “Are you fucking him?”

“Obviously,” you scoff.

“Do you spend time together that doesn’t include sex?”

You are almost quick to say no, but then you realize that would be a big ass lie. Every time he comes over to your place or you’re at his, it’s never just the sex. That’s always primary, but not everything you do. All the dinners, the movies and shows you’ve watched together, when you sit on your tiny balcony with a bottle of wine, talking and laughing like you always did before the deal, something always happens after the sex.

Your silence once again answers Leticia’s question. Reaching over the table she takes your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

Leticia once again manages to put a flea in your ear about this whole Harry thing. You wish she didn’t say a thing, because now you can’t think of anything else than the fact that you really are doing all the things with Harry that people who are dating do.

You get so riled up that you almost cancel on the evening, but you’d hate to have to sit through the evening with your colleagues alone when you said you’d be bringing someone. That would make their usual nagging a hundred times worse. So instead, you suck it up and decide to ignore the issue just for the time being and you get ready.

You were able to find a new dress beforehand, the yellow dress is truly a sight to the sore eyes with the corset-like top and very subtle lace details here and there. It’s a little daring, but everyone goes all out for these parties usually and you definitely don’t want to be underdressed.

Harry texts you that he is in front of the building a little before seven, holding up the taxi he came with so you quickly grab everything you need and head out.

You’re the first one to see him through the glass entrance doors of your building, he is standing next to the car in a simple black suit and a soft yellow shirt underneath. It was actually your idea to match your outfits and he surely understood the assignment, especially seeing his also yellow nails.

Part of you is still hung up on what Leticia told you, but a bigger one is so excited to see him and also very into his look for the evening, that you push your doubts to the back of your mind and step out of the building with a shy smile on your lips as his eyes fall on you and you see his lips part.

“Wow! This dress is… wow!” he breathes out, his eyes raking your frame up and down shamelessly as you walk closer.

“Do you know any other words than wow?” you tease him, biting into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. How about: I would love to bend you over this taxi and take you here and now in this dress?”

Your face heats up immediately, slapping his arm, but then you leave your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze as your answer: you’d definitely love that if it wasn’t kind of illegal to have sex out on a busy street.

The ignorance in you is so high that you don’t even mind how Harry keeps a hand on your thigh in the car, what’s more, you’re quite liking the warmth of his touch on you. His fingers are gently tapping against the music the driver is playing and he even hums a little along the songs.

“Hey, how is the album writing going?” you ask to break the silence a little.

“Great! They asked for fifteen songs until the end of August, so I have plenty of time, but I’m already done with six,” he beams, and you smile back at him proudly.

“That’s amazing. Can I hear any of them sometime?”

“I mean… if you buy the album?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes at him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he then adds, giving your leg another squeeze before turning towards the window.

The party is just the same as it always is. A luxurious evening to celebrate the company’s success in the past six months, a way to give back to the employees and make them feel appreciated with all the free stuff. It’s nice, but you don’t feel like it’s necessary, people would be happier with a raise after all, than one night of free food and drinks.

Harry holds your hand as you walk in, the majority of the guests already present, music playing and there are several open buffet tables and bars in the gigantic ballroom that was decorated in a forest-like theme just for tonight.

“So you did not lie about bringing a date!” Anthony beams as soon as he sees you, his boyfriend, Pete following him right behind, both of them wearing matching burgundy suits.

“Have I lied to you about anything?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Plenty of times,” he points out before turning towards Harry. “Hello handsome, I’m Anthony, Y/N’s favorite coworker, and this is my boyfriend, Pete.” They all shake hands, Harry smiling back at them warmly before his hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing together with yours in an instant.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh my! The accent!” Anthony gushes, clearly already a fan of Harry’s. “I was really afraid Y/N just said that she is bringing someone so we would get out of her hair this time.”

“I feel offended,” you give him a look, but he just shrugs it off, even though he is more right than he knows.

“Come on, let’s get you guys a drink, we are all sitting over there!”

Joining all your coworkers at the table, you get a head start on the food and drinks, not shying away from stacking everything you like onto your plate. Talking, mixing and mingling, Harry stays right next to you, charming everyone the two of you meet, earning you some approving looks from your colleagues that usually try to set you up with someone they know. This time, you’re left in peace the moment they see Harry with you, his hand always somewhere on you, holding your hand, the small of your back, your hips or waist or, your personal favorite, the back of your neck under your hair. His presence is uplifting already, but his tiny touches just warm you even more on the inside.

“I have to say, Y/N, you are absolutely glowing!” Dianne, one of the editors compliment you when the two of you are at the bar waiting for your drinks to be refilled. Harry stayed back at the table, deep in conversation with Pete about guitars, from what you could understand from their conversation.

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

“This man is for sure treating you well. It’s so great to see you finally finding your person.”

She meant well with her comment, but it’s what brings everything you kept hidden in the back of your head out to the front. Tonight was supposed to be all pretending, making everyone believe something that’s not even there, but then why do you feel like it’s real? Like you fooled yourself with everyone else as well?

Your eyes fall back to Harry at the table, who is intently listening to something Pete is telling him and as if he had a sixth sense, his eyes snap at you, a smile stretching across his pretty face at an instant that makes you stomach dance again, heart beating oddly fast.

What is happening to you? This cannot be real, you can’t be having feelings, especially not for Harry. No, you do not allow that for yourself, emotions are off limits for you, because if you fall for someone that gives them the chance to leave you and break you and you’ve seen what it does to a woman. You got enough of the suffering through your mother and you vowed not to let it happen to you. And not even Harry Styles will change that. This is about sex and nothing else, no feelings are involved and that will not change. You won’t let it.

Excusing yourself from Dianne you quickly go back to the table, the refills long forgotten as you take your seat next to Harry. His hand instantly finds your leg as he looks at you with a sweet smile at first that turns into slight confusion.

“Thought you went for a refill?”

“Forget the drinks,” you shake your head, leaning closer to his ear. “You promised me bathroom sex.”

You feel the shift in him right away, how he bites into his bottom lip, his bright green irises darkening at your words, his hold on your leg tightening. His gaze flickers to your eyes and you want to devour him, you want him to take you here and there to prove you that this is all it’s about: sex.

Clearing his throat he mumbles a lame excuse as he pulls you from your chair, tugging you towards the restrooms, you try to keep up with his pace in your heels, but you also can’t wait for him to slam you against the door and fuck you quick and hard.

As soon as you’re locked away from the party in one of the bathrooms, your lips collide with his as he pushes you up against the door, a leg coming between your thighs and you can’t stop yourself from grinding on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, hands cupping your jaw as he angles your head just right while your hands are already traveling down his body to reach his pants, eager to get them undone as fast as possible.

However the sudden rush and desperation catches Harry’s eyes and he grabs your hands, stopping you mid-action.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks, out of breath, concern filling his eyes.

“I just need you to fuck me,” you bluntly reply, but he doesn’t move.

“Okay, but why do you look so shaken up? Did something happen?”

“Harry, stop babying me! I said I’m fine, I just want you to fuck me!” you snap, losing your patience. Not sure if it’s with him or with yourself though.

“You’re obviously not fine! You are snapping at me for being decent and making sure you’re okay!” Harry steps away from you, the moment completely ruined as all physical contact ends with him, his eyes staring back at you in disbelief and you feel like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode.

“It’s not your concern if I’m okay or not. We have a deal, just go with that and leave the rest to me!”

“But above the deal we are friends too. I’m not gonna just… fuck you senseless when you’re obviously upset about something. You’re not in the right mindset.”

“Oh my God, stop being so fucking nice! Stop making these grand gestures and stop pretending like you give a fuck!” You raise your voice and it surely surprises him, but he is still more concerned than angry at your outburst.

“What do you mean pretending? I do care about you! Is that a fucking crime now?!”

“It is because it is for the wrong reasons!” you retort, feeling your throat closing up at the same time. Oh God, you hope you won’t start crying, that will make it even worse. “I think you are taking this pretending a little too far tonight. We are not a couple, this is not real, Harry,” you remind him.

He stares back at you for what feels like eternity and you wish you could read his mind, because you can’t read anything from his eyes, he just stands there like a statue and you feel panic crawling up your spine, slowly digging its claws into your flesh.

And then he finally breaks his silence.

“And would it be so bad if it was real?”

You can’t help a sob that emits from you, feeling like your guts are in a tight grip by his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“No, take that back!” you whine.

“I’m not taking it back! Y/N, what we’ve been doing these past weeks is exactly what a relationship is like and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it until a label was put on it. It doesn’t have to change anything!”

“But it is! And you know I don’t do this!”

“Don’t do what? Feelings? You don’t get to choose that!” he chuckles bitterly.

“I do! I fucking do! And I chose not to have them so… this is ending here, because you clearly caught feelings,” you pant in desperate need of getting out of the bathroom, but when you are about to open the door Harry’s hand snaps against it, keeping it closed. You rest your forehead against the cool surface of it, feeling Harry stand so close to you behind, his chest is touching your back.

“Don’t just walk away, we are in the middle of a conversation,” he growls, his voice filled with anger and warning.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you turn around and face him, your back pressing against the door.

“But I do,” he simply replies. “Why do you think you can just run away from feeling anything for the rest of your life? Why would it be so bad if you fell for someone, huh? I know you do have feelings, I know you well, Y/N. You’re not some cold hearted jerk, you are a caring and loving person, so why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I am happy the way I am, have you thought about that?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you half my life, I know that you want to be cared for, you want to be loved and cherished, yet you push away everyone who wants to give you that.”

“Because it’s not that easy, Harry!” you snap at him. “It’s never just the lovey-dovey shit! Feelings come with hurt and pain and heartbreaks and I don’t need that! I can’t handle that!”

“It’s not always the case! But if you never put yourself out there, you’ll never find the happiness you’re seeking!”

“Well, for me, it doesn’t worth it! I don’t want to fall for someone, plan my future with them and open up to them completely only for them to fall out of love with me one day and decide they don’t want anything to do with me! I don’t want to give anyone the chance to hurt me like that, because I’ve seen what it does to a person! I witnessed it all, Harry! I will not be a victim to that!”

You’re full on shouting, tears rolling down your cheeks at this point. You are letting everything out that’s been bottled up deep inside of you all this time. Nothing can make you believe in the fairytale that will never become your reality and you rather save the time and pain than experiment with it.

What really hurts is that now you are losing your friend. Your best friend. Because the way Harry is looking at you makes it obvious that you’ll never be like before the deal. The hurt, the shock, the panic and the anger, it all mixes in his wide-eyed gaze and it’s like a knife into your chest.

“You promised me, Harry,” you sob, voice now barely more than just a whisper. “You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings but you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” he simply answers clenching his jaw. “I said I wouldn’t catch feelings for you, but truth is… I already had them. I was already in love with you, have been for a while. And you know what? I think you love me too, but you’re just too afraid to admit it. I know it because I can feel it. The way you touch me, look at me, the way you talk to me, it’s written all over you, but you choose to ignore it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you shake your head vigorously. “You think you know it, but you don’t.”

“Stop denying it, Y/N! You can’t just switch it off! Loving is not as horrendous as you think it is! Yes, it comes with pain too, but the good is always there to make you forget about it. You have to give it… you have to give yourself a chance!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harry,” you sass back, pushing him away so you have the chance to sneak out of the room before he could stop you. But he doesn’t let it end that easily. Running after you he catches your wrist before you could get out of the hallway, pulling you back.

“Don’t just fucking walk away, Y/N! We need to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. And I’m done with this. Done with… you.”

It hurts. The words rolling off of your tongue hurt, but you choose to ignore it once again as you shake his hand off of yourself, marching back to your table to grab your bag and leave.

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Don’t do this, Y/N! Let’s just fucking talk!”

Harry keeps trying to stop you, but you’re determined to leave. Your coworkers notice the little scene, but you don’t pay it any attention as you head out of the room, knowing well they’ll talk shit about you behind your back as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Y/N for fuck’s sake just stop already!” Harry snaps, grabbing your arm once again when you’re outside, pulling you back, but you’ve had enough.

“No! I’m not stopping, you need to stop! Stop trying to make yourself believe this is anything more than just the deal we made! It’s not and it will never be, because you don’t get to have the privilege of hurting me, nobody gets to do that!”

“Who said I want to hurt you?! That’s the last thing I would want to do! It’s not as cruel as you imagine it, Y/N. I know that your mum had a terrible love life when you were younger, but that’s not the only side to love! There are so much good about it, so much to fight for and endure with the bad sides, you can’t just throw all of it out the window because you decided love is just not for you!”

“I can and I will. Watch me!” you bite back, tearing your arm out of his hold as you step to the side of the pavement and wave a taxi down.

“Please don’t get into that car, Y/N, let’s talk!”

“We talked enough,” you huff as the car stops in front of you and you hop inside, but just as you are about to close the door Harry once again stops you.

“Y/N, I love you. Please don’t do this!” he begs, so much sorrow and pain radiating from his face and for a moment you fall weak. You almost reach out to him, because part of you hates seeing him like this, especially knowing that it’s because of you. You just want him to be happy, but you know it’s not gonna be with you. You can never give him what he wants and needs. He’ll be better off without you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before pulling the door closed and the car drives away. Turning around you see him stand on the pavement, completely broken and shaken, his hands tangling into his hair as he angrily kicks at the dirt before the car melts into the traffic and he falls out of your sight.

You did it for your and Harry’s sake. It had to be done and you are both better off this way. At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince you to believe.

But why does it hurt so badly then?

Harry tried you calling a million times after you left him at the party, he even came after you and banged on your door for thirty minutes straight, begging you to let him in and just talk, but you didn’t even answer him. Just waited until he left before you curled up in the shower and cried for about an hour.

The calls and texts kept coming in the next few days, but after a while he gave up. He got nothing but silence from your side and one last, long ass text that you didn’t even read because you knew you’d just start crying again, he finally gave up.

You were left alone with all the pain and emptiness and you realized how big part of your life Harry played before. Somehow, everything reminded you of him and you couldn’t do anything without wishing he was with you.

You truly believed that time will heal you, that soon you’ll realize that you made the right decision, but days turned into weeks and nothing changed, you just learned to live with the pain. You stopped going out with your friends and not just because you were afraid of seeing Harry, but because you genuinely couldn’t get yourself to leave the house. Your evenings consisted of binge eating all the ice-cream you could find in your freezer and watching reruns of your favorite shows, but nothing could really take your mind off of Harry.

Day after day you cancelled on Leticia as well until she had enough of your hermit life. She got fed up watching you sink into your pit of sorrow and decided to take things into her own hands and not let you run away from her.

A Friday evening you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks now, lying on your couch in sweatpants, scrolling through Netflix when there’s a knock on your door. You wait, hoping whoever it is will think you’re not home and go away, but another obnoxious knock rips through the apartment and you growl.

“I know you’re in there bitch, open the fucking door!” Leticia shouts from outside and you curse the day you became friends with her. Maybe you would have been better off as enemies.

“I’m busy!” you call out, but make your way to the front door anyway, opening it to reveal her.

“Yeah, I can see that. Busy with being a bag of trash,” she comments on your appearance, walking inside without an invitation.

“Jeez, you really did wake up today and chose violence,” you mutter under your breath as you shut the door closed.

Leticia is quick to turn the TV off and open up the windows as you just stand there, not sure what she is doing here.

“When did you clean this place? And when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, her nose scrunching when she takes a better look at you.

“Okay, did you come here to offend me? Because I don’t need that so please leave.”

“No, I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoff, taking your spot on the couch once again. You reach for the remote with the intention of turning the TV back on, but Leticia stands in front of the screen, blocking the device completely as she stares down at you with a disapproving look, arms folded on her chest.

“You’re acting like a child, Y/N. Avoiding everyone and being mad at the whole world, are you an emo teenager now or what?”

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

“Okay, then you’re mad at just Harry, still, it’s a mistake.”

“I’m not mad at only Harry either,” you admit truthfully.

“Who else then?”

“Myself?” you mumble, eyes falling closed as you slide lower down on the couch.

“That makes the two of us, but why are you mad at yourself?” she asks, finally moving from her spot in front of the TV as she sits next to you on the couch, crossing her legs as she waits for your answer.

“Because…” you start with a sigh, opening your eyes, but you avoid looking at her, instead, you stare at the wall across you. “Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about him,” you admit and your lips start trembling instantly, just like every time you think about him. “I miss him so fucking badly, Tish! I miss our conversations, I miss his stupid jokes, I miss him raiding my fucking fridge and I miss…”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to admit the next thoughts loudly. Because you miss kissing him, you miss holding him and be held by him. You miss sex too, but you miss the tiny things even more, the way his lips feel against yours, how he smiles against them when you whimper his name and you miss the awkward little things the most. When he accidentally bumps his head against yours or when say random shit right before he pushes into you just to make you laugh, or when he leans in for a kiss but misses it and ends up kissing your nose or just the corner of your mouth. You miss everything about him and you hate him for that, but you hate yourself even more. It feels like your own conscious has betrayed you.

Shutting your eyes closed you let the tears roll down your cheeks as Leticia scoots closer and wraps her arms around you, cooing soothingly at you.

“It’s alright. It’s totally normal, Y/N.”

“It is not! Not for me at least!” you protest pulling back, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“Stop with the bullshit already!” she growls in annoyance. “You are not some kind of ice queen who is incapable of loving! You love me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” you roll your eyes.

“Not really. You love your other friends as well, right?” You nod. “And you love your mom,” she adds and you nod again. “Would you do anything for these people?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like spending time with them? Do you care about them in all kinds of ways?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Do you feel the same way about Harry? Do you care about him, would you do anything for him to make him happy?”

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

“Then don’t complicate it. You love him, no big deal! And he surely loves you back, because he told you, right?” You nod. “Then pull your head out of your ass and just let yourself be happy for once.”

“Why are you coming with this too? I was happy on my own too!”

“No, you were getting by,” she points it out. “You were doing good, but you weren’t… a whole. Harry gave you everything you missed, but for some fucked up reason you think it’s the end of the world to depend on someone else partially when it comes to your happiness. Which can be a smart thing, it’s important to be your own person and be independent, but sometimes we need some help from others. From people that love us and we love them back. It’s not a crime, Y/N.”

“No, but it’s gonna end up with me being heartbroken.”

“You already are,” she ruthlessly replies, bringing your attention to what you’ve been trying to ignore all this time. “Hate to break it to you, but this is what that feels like. So why not just go with it, you already felt the pain, now you could go for the good parts as well.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Tish,” you breathe out, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Even if I did it, I know I would mess it up and hurt him or maybe he’ll do something stupid and hurt me and I don’t think I can handle that.”

“So what? It’s part of the deal. And besides, you’re already hurting each other, so you better get your shit together,” she scoffs, poking your side playfully.

It’s part of the deal. Are you ready to make a new deal? One that you’ve been avoiding your whole life? Are you ready to cut yourself open for someone else and just hope for the best?

Probably not. And probably you’ll never be. But your tactics didn’t succeed so far, you still ended up in pain so why not give it a chance? Even if it’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done?

“Do you think he hates me now?” you ask quietly, peeking at her scared of her answer.

“He is a bit mad at you for shutting him out, but he could never hate you. That man loves you so much, it’s almost disgusting,” she admits, making you chuckle. “Just… be honest with him and talk to him. You need it. You both need it.”

Harry’s fingers strum against the chords again, trying to get the tune right, but he fails again, a frustrated growl leaving his lips as he lets his head fall forwards. He’s been trying to finish the song for hours, but it still hasn’t come together the way he imagined and his patience is running short.

It’s been hard for him to focus on writing, with you on his mind all the time, everything seems like a hard task. He has written plenty of songs since the night at the party, but he could never use them for his job. One, because they are so fucking sad and depressive and they asked for upbeat hits from him, and two, because they are all so personal, he could never give them to someone else. He can’t let anyone else sing the lines he wrote to you, but you’ll probably never hear them.

Giving up on finishing the song today, he puts the guitar aside and calls it a day. Walking into the kitchen he opens the fridge and realizes that it’s completely empty aside from a bottle of ketchup and a single banana. He’s been such a mess lately, he forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. Huffing to himself he grabs the banana and reaches for his phone to order something right when his doorbell rings. He is not expecting anyone, but Mitch has been popping in every few days to check in on him since everything that went down with you, so Harry is convinced it’s him again.

“Great timing, do you want Italian or Chinese?” he asks, walking up to the door, but as he swings it open he freezes when he sees you standing on the doormat. “Y/N…” he breathes out as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi! I-I hope I’m not bothering you o-or anything…” you ramble nervously.

“No! No, come on in!” He snaps out of his trance and steps aside, letting you walk inside. A feeling of nostalgia hits you right away as you think back at the last time you were here. Just a few days before the party, when everything was different.

“I’m sorry I came without asking, I just… I would say I was nearby, but that’s not true,” you chuckle anxiously as the two of you walk into the living room. You notice that his place is a little messier than usually, but it’s not nearly as bad as yours was before you did a deep cleaning yesterday after Leticia’s comments on it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What… What brought you here?”

“I, uhh… I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I have a few things I need to tell you.”

For a moment Harry’s stomach drops, because he thinks you came here to tell him off one more time for breaking your deal, for everything that happened at the party. He is already bracing himself to just let you lash out on him, but it never comes. And when you speak up again, he nearly faints.

“I love you.”

It’s a strong start, definitely a surprising one. Harry’s lips part and his eyes widen, his look almost comical, but you’re not laughing, not now. You have a lot to tell him and you can only hope he won’t throw you out after everything is said.

“I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to stop ignoring it, but I promise you I’m done with that. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night, I was… mad and confused and I didn’t know how to deal with everything at once. I was delusional and ignorant and… a fool for thinking that I could just choose to never have feelings, especially for you,” you add with a tiny, nervous chuckle. “You were right. About everything. That I can’t live without ever putting myself out there and risking it. And I think deep down I knew that, but I was so afraid of getting hurt that I made myself believe I’m good on my own, but I’m not. Not entirely, to be precise. Because sometimes it is worth risking it and… and I realized that you are the person for me who is worth this risk.”

The tears are already blurring your vision, for the millionth time these past weeks, but it feels right now. Opening up to Harry and telling him all of this is hard, but with every spoken word you feel lighter and more relieved.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I don’t love you, because I do. I really do. You are my best friend and these past weeks have been hell for me without you. I was so keen on avoiding a heart break that I ended up breaking my own heart,” you chuckle bitterly, the first tear running down your cheek.

Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb and you involuntarily melt into his touch. You’ve been starved for it and now it feels like home. When you look up and your eyes meet his, you see that they are red too and it just makes you want to cry even more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that I was doing the right thing, but I was so far from that. So I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t want to see me again for the way I acted. I was… a horrible friend and… an even worse girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Because you were right, we were more than just the deal and… if you choose not to throw me out after this, I would… I would love to give it a try with you. I want to be the girlfriend you deserve and though I’m sure I’ll mess it up a lot of times, I promise I’ll try my best, becau—“

He makes your rambling stop in the best way possible, lips smashing against yours as he cups your tear-soaked cheeks in his warm palms, pulling you close to him, your arms curling around his waist immediately.

Harry has kissed you several times before, but none of them compares to this. It’s messy and salty from both your tears, but you wouldn’t change a thing about it, the way his lips move against yours, tongues meeting, devouring each other, making up for the lost time and full of promises for the future. You hold onto his shirt at his back for dear life as he just keeps kissing you over and over again until you both run out of breath.

“So, does this mean you’re not throwing me out?” you joke, breaking the silence once you’ve pulled back.

“Fuck no,” he laughs, pecking your lips a few more times before his lips meet your forehead. “You are not leaving this place, ever. You’re trapped,” he adds to the joke and you break out in a relieved laughter.

“Wait, so I’m stuck with you now?” you whine playfully, but all you get is another kiss on the lips, hard and demanding.

“Yeah, forever, baby. You won’t get rid of me now, not after the speech you just gave me,” he smirks down at you, his arms coming to curl around your shoulders as he keeps you pressed against him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart soaring as you hear those words again from him, this time, not even trying to dodge them in any way. In fact, you just want to hear him say it every minute over and over again for the rest of your life. “And I’m happy to be stuck with you,” you add with a shy smile as his grin widens at your words.

“Yeah? So we have a new deal then?” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

rationalizations

rationalizations: a defense mechanism in which one makes up a false but reassuring explanation to explain their behavior and/or feelings to both themselves and others, thus avoiding the reality of why they are really acting or feeling as they do.

summary: You’re the psych evaluation for Spencer. You think he’s full of shit, so you refuse to sign his clearance form until he actually tells the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

category: angst (happy ending)

content warnings: spencer’s canonical trauma, flashbacks, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation, swearing

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ enemies to lovers event. it’s not my favorite trope, but one of the prompts sparked inspiration for me. i also took a good amount of inspiration from meredith’s various therapy scenes in grey’s anatomy, so if some of it feels familiar, that’s why! i swear i intended to make this cute and funny, but, well… here we are lmao.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Spencer throws his bag onto his desk with a frustrated huff. It thumps loudly, startling JJ at her desk across from his. She gives him a sympathetic look regardless. “Still not cleared yet?”

“No!” Forgetting that it’s wheeled, he drops himself into his chair. It skids backwards and he has to scramble to grab something to keep from falling out of it.

“Careful there,” JJ says, trying valiantly to suppress a laugh. “That psychologist's got you really worked up, huh?”

“I don’t know what she wants from me!” he complains. “It’s been nearly a month! Hotch’s ex-wife was murdered by an unsub, but they cleared him. I was only shot in the neck.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a big deal,” she says. “You could’ve died, from the gunshot, or from the nurse that tried to kill you afterwards.”

“Speaking of that nurse,” he starts, “Garcia is the one who shot him and she’s been a wreck over it. She insisted on going to the guy’s execution. But the therapist cleared her!”

“Penelope’s not in the field,” JJ points out.

He crosses his arms. “Still. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. That possibility is part of the job. It’s not like it came out of nowhere and I was completely unprepared for it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spence,” she says. “Just keep all of your appointments and I’m sure you’ll be cleared soon.”

He pulls a stack of papers on his desk towards him. Paperwork—one of the things he’s actually allowed to do. “I better be,” he mutters.

---

“And it was really scary, you know?” Spencer wipes at his eyes with a tissue. “Not knowing if I was going to live or die.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a deep breath. “But… it’s over now. The preacher who shot me died in the same shootout. Owen McGregor, the leader of the corrupt deputies, died later that night, in another shootout. And Greg Baylor, the one who posed as a nurse and tried to kill me, was sentenced to death row and he’s gone now, too.”

His psychologist makes a note on the paper in front of her, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“I… I feel better now, just letting that out.” He takes a new tissue and dries his nose. “I feel ready now. Ready to go back to work.”

She nods slowly, considering him. But she doesn’t even look towards her desk where the clearance form sits, frustrating him to no end. After five minutes of silence, he breaks.

“You can’t be serious.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been coming to these sessions for over a month, and I’m still not cleared to be in the field. I…” He musters up more tears and makes sure his voice wavers during his next words. “I just don’t know what you want? I’ve tried everything.”

“No, you haven’t,” she says plainly.

He blinks in surprise, sending some of the crocodile tears down his cheeks. “What?”

She crosses her legs. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not being honest with me, and I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself either,” she says. “You’re a great actor. I can see how you’ve gotten clearances easily before. But that stops with me.”

Spencer stares at her. “I don’t understand.”

She moves her notebook to the side. “What happened in Texas isn’t the first time your life’s been in danger. Why do you think that is?”

“Wh—that’s part of my job,” he argues, fake crying long since forgotten.

“Not to the extent that you take it. I’ve read your file,” she says. “You take unnecessary risks with regularity.”

The tissues crumple in his hand as he clenches it. “I do not.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of your career.” Yet she doesn’t take out his file, or look at her notes. She speaks from memory. “2005. The BAU is assisting with a hostage situation. You go into the train, posing as someone who is there to remove a microchip from the unsub, but the first thing you do? You take off your bulletproof vest.”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand what the situation was,” Spencer cuts in. “Ted Bryar was suffering from a psychotic break. He was somewhat unpredictable, and he told me to take off the vest.”

“And you just listened?”

“He—he had a gun, and was threatening both me and the other passengers with it!” he says. “What was I supposed to do, not listen?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “You easily played into his delusions just a few minutes later to distract him. Why not do that to keep yourself safe?”

“I was twenty-four and was running on adrenaline,” he says defensively. “And it was my first time doing something like that. You can’t expect me to think of everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” she agrees. “So let’s jump forward a few years. How about the time you approached a teenager who was wielding an assault rifle with no protection, not even your own firearm?” she challenges.

“You mean Owen Savage? That was a unique situation,” he protests. “I knew I could talk him down.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you had a good chance, but there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure of that. He was volatile, and on a killing spree,” she counters. “You didn’t know if you’d succeed--”

“I did!” He startles himself by unconsciously raising his voice, but he doesn’t apologize. “I did, because….”

“Because you related to him,” she fills in. “And that’s fine. Having empathy for an unsub doesn’t suggest something’s wrong in and of itself. But you still put yourself, and the rest of your team, in danger, didn’t you?”

He crosses his arms. “I got that lecture from Hotch when it happened, okay?”

“So then why’d you confront an unsub alone a few years later in Miami?” she asks. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. You left your vest behind and just ran off.”

“I was having a head—wait, how do you even know that happened?” he questions. “It wasn’t in the report.”

“Well, first of all, you just confirmed it,” she points out, and he wants to kick himself. “Secondly, I can read between the lines.”

“I was having a headache,” he repeats. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. I just knew Julio’s life was in immediate danger, so I went to help him.”

“Uh-huh. More recently,” she says, brushing past his excuse, “You confronted your girlfriend’s stalker without your vest or gun.”

Spencer’s getting angry now. “I was trying to save Maeve. She asked me to leave them behind.”

“And you simply listened. Do you see the pattern I’m drawing here, Dr. Reid?” she asks. “These are just a few of the instances that stand out. Time and time again, you put yourself in unnecessary danger. So I’ll ask you again. Why do you think that is?”

Spencer looks over her—really looks over her, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Are… are you suggesting that I’m suicidal?” he asks quietly.

She looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

It’s like she set off a bomb in his brain. Memories, and the feelings attached to them, emerge—Elle handcuffed to a seat, a teenager with a rifle, a blinding headache, Maeve and blood on the warehouse floor.

“Here’s what I see,” she says. “I see a man who’s been through so, so much. Your mother is mentally ill, your father left--”

His father is packing a suitcase. Spencer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he falls back on what he knows.

“Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”

It doesn’t help. “We’re not statistics, Spencer.”

“Your file says she’s staying at an institution, and with your father out of the picture, I can only assume you were the one who had her admitted--”

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me!” she cries as she’s escorted out of the house by Bennington Sanitarium’s transport staff.

“A few years into your work here at the FBI, you were kidnapped, tortured and drugged--”

He’s tired and cold and his whole body aches. Tobias—the real Tobias—looms over him with a syringe.

“Please. I don’t want it,” he pleads of his captor. “I don’t want it, please.”

The needle punctures his skin regardless.

“—you were held hostage by a cult leader--”

Emily sits across from him on the plane with a black eye. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault.”

He pretends to agree.

“—you went through the death and reappearance of Agent Prentiss--”

He’s tried to make it clear to Jennifer that he wants to be left alone, but she won’t stop trying to talk about it with him, and he’s had enough.

“I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“—and your girlfriend was shot in front of you.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane demands, gun pressed against Maeve’s head.

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replies, and Spencer’s heart drops. Thomas Merton is Maeve’s way of saying goodbye—she’s giving up.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late.

“This is just some of the more traumatic stuff. And then there’s what happened last month, which is why you’re here. You present a face of not being bothered by all of this, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, but I think you are bothered. You really, really are. And you don’t want to admit to anyone just how much it all has affected you. Maybe you don’t even want yourself to know.” Her expression and tone of voice are certain.

Spencer can’t take it anymore. The whirlwind of emotions and memories is overwhelming.

“The number of times you’ve almost died is staggering--”

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish I had!” He glares at her, breathing heavily. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

But she doesn’t seem intimidated or alarmed at all. She leans back in her armchair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The response only serves to make him angrier. She questioned him relentlessly and made him admit something he swore in the dark hours of sleepless nights that he’d never think again, never voice, let alone admit to anyone. She forced it out of him, forced. She made him say it against his will.

So why does he feel a sense of relief?

“I…” Tears well up in his eyes—real ones this time. “I’m done,” he chokes out.

He pushes himself off of the couch and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

---

He storms in Hotch’s office and demands to see a different psychologist. But she was one step ahead of him—a few hours before the appointment, she had emailed Hotch and told him that under no circumstances should Spencer be allowed to get a clearance from someone else.

“And you’re going to believe her?” he cries.

“She’s doing her job, Reid.”

“You barely know her! You’ve known me for a decade!”

“Yes, I have,” Hotch agrees. “And you’ve told me yourself that you’ve fooled psychologists and therapists before. So if this one is saying you’re not ready yet, I’m inclined to believe her.”

Spencer just stares at him, but as usual, Hotch doesn’t blink.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer eventually mutters.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Hotch replies, glancing down at fists Spencer hadn’t realized he was clenching.

“Fine.”

Too agitated to stand in the elevator, he takes the stairs. As he stomps down them, he swears he’ll never go back to her office, even if it means never going into the field again.

A week passes, then two, and he hasn’t seen the psychologist since. But he doesn’t feel any better—he actually feels worse. It’s like her words broke a dam in his mind, in his gut, and feelings of unease and uncertainty won’t pass. It keeps him up at night. Her words echo in his head. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

Spencer’s had yet another sleepless night and is struggling not to doze off at his desk despite the coffee he’s drinking. He stands up with the intention of splashing some water from the bathroom sink on his face, but his feet take him somewhere else.

He stares at the nameplate on the door. He swore he’d never go back, yet he feels compelled to knock.

It only takes her a few moments to answer. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?” she asks.

“I…” He sighs. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come on in.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider to let him pass. He sits down on the couch.

She waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him. She lets him speak first.

He wrings his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “Something you said is bothering me.”

“What was it?”

“About… living,” he admits quietly. “I… I think you might have been right.”

When he gets the courage to glance up at her, he finds a soft smile on her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he was expecting judgment and disdain until it didn’t happen. His shoulders slump down in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think I would.”

---

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks up from his paperwork, slightly out of it, to find Derek watching him. His coworker had, indeed, caught him thinking about her again. His psychologist. Well, former psychologist. After his second session back with her, she’d handed over a clearance form and a referral to a therapist outside the bureau to see long-term.

“And you better follow up with that,” she’d told him, the corner of her mouth turning up despite her serious tone of voice. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

He’d promised that he would, and had followed through. But despite the progress he was making with the new therapist, he was feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see her anymore. He only saw her in passing, sometimes in the elevator or walking down the hallways of the building. They would exchange hellos, she would ask how he was doing, then give him a little wave as she left. Each time his heart would skip a beat, and he’d feel an urge to follow her to wherever she was going.

Yet he hadn’t quite realized why he seemed to be preoccupied with her until a dream he had a few weeks ago—a dream in which he found himself kissing her. Despite being alone in his bedroom, he’d woken up feeling embarrassed. He promised himself that he would put her out of his mind. Having a crush on his psychologist? It was ridiculous.

But then he saw her in the elevator a few days later and he couldn’t help but analyze her body language. It was open, and she twirled her hair around a finger while she looked at him to ask him how he was. A few other people entered the elevator on the next floor, but her attention remained on him. They were subtle signs, but signs that he recognized nonetheless—signs of attraction. And once he started seeing them, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer tells Derek, picking back up the pen he hadn’t noticed he dropped.

“You can’t pull that on me, kid,” he replies. “It’s your psychologist. You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

Spencer sighs. “So what if I can’t?”

“So go ask her out already!” Derek says like it’s obvious.

“You don’t think that’s just a little inappropriate?”

“You’re not seeing her as a client anymore, are you?” he points out. “Go for it, kid. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Spencer takes the advice—as soon as Derek said it, he knew he was right. He would regret not taking a chance on her and the connection he felt. Sure, she’d helped him with therapy, but it went deeper than that. It feels like she knows him.

He leaves the bullpen ten minutes early that evening, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. On her doorstep, he feels just as nervous as he did on the day he admitted that she was right, but it’s a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous. He knocks on the door.

She’s surprised when she seems him. He watches as her pupils dilate, and it boosts his confidence. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?”

“You can. I’d like to talk,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I guess I could do that,” she says. “I thought things were going well with the therapist I referred you to, though.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean I want an appointment.”

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. “Okay, then, what do you want?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I really like you, and I think we’re meant to be together,” he replies, voice softening a bit.

She pauses before answering. When she does, her voice is gentle. “Dr. Reid, sometimes a medical professional’s care can start to feel like affection over a period of time, but--”

“No one has ever listened to me like you do,” he interrupts.

“That’s my job,” she points out.

“I’ve seen therapists before, but none of them have been like you,” he counters. “You understand me.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m glad I was a good fit and was able to help you. But that doesn’t mean that I see you as anything more than a client.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do feel something more for me,” he says firmly, but then backtracks a little. “Well, I know you’re attracted to me at least.”

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, take aback. “Dr. Reid, this is not appropriate--”

“Please call me Spencer,” he says, then jumps into his explanation. “See, when we’re attracted to someone, our bodies display involuntary signals, and I’ve seen you do some of them when you’re around me. Whenever we run into each other here, your body will turn a little towards me and you’ll play with your hair. Your attention is almost entirely focused on me. And, when you see me, your pupils dilate. They did it when you opened the door just a few minutes ago. Oh, and I’m attracted to you, by the way,” he adds as he realizes how one-sided he’s been. “I imagine my pupils probably dilate when I see you, too.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. She looks flustered, and he wonders if maybe he’s pushed it too far or said too much, but he can’t turn back now. “So, please, let me take you out,” he says quietly. “Just… just give it a chance.”

She bites her lip and looks at the ground. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, which he’s come to learn means she’s thinking. She speaks seriously when she looks back up. “If I go out with you, I can’t treat you anymore. If you ever need another evaluation or session, you’d have to get it from someone else.”

“I know,” he says. “I get along well with the therapist you referred me to, though. And having to get clearance from a different psychologist at the bureau is something I’m willing to give up in favor of getting to know you better.”

She considers him. “You’re serious about this,” she states.

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyways. “I am.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes unfocusing as she ponders the situation. Eventually, she says, “Let me think about it.”

It’s not exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he’ll take it.

---

It’s only six PM, but Spencer is already exhausted. He unlocks his apartment door, fully intending to collapse onto his bed, but instead receives a pleasant surprise in the form of his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch. He can’t help but smile.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asks, then adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Penelope told me it was a bit of a rough case,” she replies. “And I missed you.”

She holds out her arms and he takes the invitation, joining her on the couch and laying down between her legs, placing his head on her chest. “I missed you, too.”

Her next words are overly familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hey, we agreed to no therapy,” he says. “Something about I can’t be your client anymore?”

She huffs. “This isn’t therapy. This is being a good partner.”

Spencer smiles into the fabric of her shirt, snuggling in closer. “I know, I’m just teasing you. I don’t need to talk about the case,” he says, finally answering her original question. “I feel fine now that I’m here with you.”

She lets out a pleased hum and starts running her fingers through his hair. “I ordered take-out for dinner, by the way.”

“Where from?”

“You know where.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. She must have ordered take-out from the restaurant he took her to on their first date. He lifts his head to look her in the eye. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me all those months ago?”

“Oh, I suppose,” she says with pretend annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Then she kisses him.

Spencer’s never been so happy to be alive.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

please note that i DO NOT ENDORSE asking out your therapist/former therapist. this is fanfiction. thank you.

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor , @spencerreid9

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #i just cannot stop myself from writing about mental health issues and treatment can i

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e-jaegerenthusiast · 3 years

Text

aot boys kink hcs

here are some kink hcs i found written on a piece of paper during my super important class 🥴 fr i was sitting in class as my professor gives a lecture— instead of listening i zoned out and wrote different kinks/overall sexual things down and thought if eren, jean, and levi would be into them 🤞🏻

eren art by aidan.k_art on insta

levi cosplay _hakkencoser_ on insta

warnings/tw; like many many kinks 💀

would they let you choke them?

eren: yes. surprisingly, it’s the only dom-like thing he lets you do him. (other than ride him) he would love the thrill of his life in your hands :,) although it would take him a while to let you do it to him. he says it mid-sex, i’ve written something for it with eremika here ;)

jean: yes yes yes. he loves it so much, gets him whining and moaning

levi: i feel like he’s claustrophobic :( so he’ll let you put your hands around his neck, just don’t put in any pressure. the first time you did it was when you were riding him, you didn’t really think much of it as you put your hands around his neck, giving pressure with your fingers. suddenly his lust-filled droopy eyes turned into one of horror. pulling you off of him as he grabbed his own throat, coughing. you apologized so fucking much and hated yourself for it. he hugged you and told you it was okay, that he’s sorry but it brings him ptsd and makes him uneasy :(

choke you?

eren: surprisingly, no 😳 i feel like he would love to see his own purple fingerprints on your hips. however, he doesn’t like the bruises he leaves on your neck, he inspects them with a frown, kissing all of them and burying his head in your neck. once he chokes you, he feels animalistic. more than ever. its like he doesn’t trust himself to put your life that closely in his hands :(( so once he doesn’t do it anymore, you don’t ask him why. you know him. you know what goes on in his head.

jean: only if you ask him to, he’d be scared to apply too much pressure tho, so he’d do it lightly

levi: yesyesyes. i feel like levi would do all dom things to you mostly when he’s mad at something or at you. he’s the type to grab you by the neck and kiss you passionately. awooga

would they whine?

eren: very. very. very rare. only if somehow you’ve managed to take the upper hand.

jean: yessir. definitely. mommy kink all the way.

levi: mostly no. although he really really needs to. he wont let himself. mostly grunts. although he does when you’re sucking him off, he whimpers and tries to hide it, but you humming around his length throws him over the edge.

would they overstimulate you?

eren: all fuckinggg day. he doesn’t care if you can’t anymore. shaking? pffttt suck it up. literally

jean: only if he’s super horny. would do it if you want to.

levi: not really. he likes it when you overstimulate him 👀— doesn’t really ask you to, however you can obviously tell by the way he bucks up his hips into you or your hand even tho he just came.

their fave position?

eren: he absolutely loves spooning you, fucking into you as your warm back is pressed against his chest, your back arching and head going to his shoulder when he hits that special spot in you and kisses your neck. he can easily hit your g-spot in this postition, loves when you squirm against his chest. his hand holding you close. —he also loves the most weirdest positions omg- he likes bending you in ways that could almost break you like a pretzel - your thighs pressed against your chest, your legs at a wide angle resting on his shoulder—you must take yoga classes for this man he loves fucking you in the positions🥴 even upside down

jean: he loves loves loves when you ride him. he’s called a horse for a reason😩 also loves mirror sex. we know he can get cocky sometimes, so he loves fucking you infront of the mirror as he holds your jaw and forces your eyes on the mirror, fucking you hard. also is a sucker for passionate/slow missionary.

levi: doggy. fuck yes he loves it. or reverse cowgirl omf— loves the view sm. not that he doesn’t like to see your face in sex omg😭 it’s just- he prefers it that way cuz he kinda doesn’t want you to see him, in all his vulnerability. :,) its rare he lets you. but when he does omg- the image is burned into your memory, his face and the way it contorts into pleasure, his thin brows going up as his mouth is wide open— or he’s clenching his jaw.

would they agree to you handcuffing/tying them?

eren: no. he likes to be free LMAO i’m sorry

jean: yes. definitely. finds it so hot but still tugs on them so so much and begs you to untie him.

levi: won’t admit it but he loves it. eventually comes around. pounces on you like a wild dog when you untie him and fucks the shit out of you. grunting as he calls you a brat for tying him.

would they tie you up?

eren: 100% fucker loves to see you squirming.

jean: not really, he tries it out of curiosity but just doesn’t know what the fuck to do without your touch. likes it better the other way ‘round.

levi: yes. he would like to take revenge for you tying him up. would def torture and edge you a lot.

let you blindfold them?

eren: never. would like to see you and every single expression on your face.

jean: yes. loves it. makes him so so sensitive and he loves the thrill of not knowing where he’s gonna feel your touch.

levi: maybe. if you really beg him and annoy him for it.

blindfold you?

eren: yes yes yes do i even need to elaborate

jean: not really. same as tying you up, he would get too nervous and flustered and not know what to do.

levi: absolutely. he’d actually almost chuckle at how responsive you are to his touch. he’d literally just sit there for minutes, gliding his hands over all parts of your body, your arms, legs, thighs, stomach. loses sense of time as he plays with your body.

would they let you peg them?

eren: absolutely not. fucking scoffs and chuckles at you and mocks you when you suggest it.

jean: yes. with persuasion. he’s mostly open and experimental. would he end up liking it? maybe. he finds the feeling very weird at first, but asks you with a blush if you can do it again another time.

levi: no— thinks it’s disgusting.

anal?

eren: yes. yes. yes. would absolutely destroy you. loves the tight asf feeling.

jean: would try, doesn’t like it. makes him cum too fast 💀

levi: thinks it’s filthy.

breeding kink?

eren: yes. loves filling you up. doesn’t like baby talk tho— he hates kids 💀💀 is sorry but maybe eventually?

jean: likes to cum on your back, stomach, or tits more. however he loves the idea of having a family with you. definitely cums in you while baby talk + “you’d be such a good mommy.”

levi: he rarely cums in you, you’d have to beg him to or wrap your legs around his torso, then he can’t stop himself. doesn’t trust condoms or birth control. he’d say there’s still a chance of you getting pregnant 🥴— not that he doesn’t want a baby with you- not yet tho. he needs to warm up to the idea of becoming a dad. trauma n all yk.

jealous seggs?

eren: definitely. he’s possessive.

jean: definitely. he’s insecure :(

levi: yes but doesn’t admit it (surprise surprise) not a lot tho, he knows he has you wrapped around his finger. doesn’t really show his jealousy much. lets it eat away at him silently:/

lets you pull their hair?

eren: hell no. you do it anyway , he goes absolutely feral.

jean: yes. loves it so so much. also open to basically anything that makes you happy

levi: even tho he doesn’t like anyone touching his face or his hair, he warms up to it. likes the feeling of your hands in his hair. (also- mostly kiss his scars. he’ll actually cry. oop imma write a fic on that ✍🏻) he also loves loves loves when you shampoo his hair for him. gets him turned on. did y’all know thats an actual kink

would they spank you?

eren: definitely. more mid-fucking to see your reaction and the way you clench around him.

jean: likes to hold and squeeze your ass more as you ride him.

levi: oh fuck yeah. when you act like too much of a brat, he makes you go on all fours, or lay on your chest on his thighs, giving you spanks and making you count. talking to you after each spank, “will you be a brat again, huh?” spank, “you do it on purpose dont you? like to rile me up? hm? get me fucking mad like this?” another spank as he molds the flesh of your ass with his palm after each one, holding himself back from kissing the flesh.

face slapping?

already made drabbles for you slapping them

eren: yes yes yes. he would be a sucker for the innocent look in your eyes as tears swell up in them. he would do it repeatedly and keep bringing your jaw back to look at him after each slap.

jean: no, he doesn’t have it in his heart 🥺 would love if you did it to him.

levi: this is very difficult. i’ll leave it for you to decide between these two; 1. he doesn’t lay his hand on women. (spanking’s an exception in his book, other than that, hell no) 2. he only does it when he’s angry. like genuinely mad at you during sex, so that’s how he takes it out on you. but kisses you afterwards.

dacryphilia?

eren: hell yeah he loves when you cry for his cock, for him. this fucker does anything on purpose just to make you cry. gives a sadistic smile when tears finally come to your eyes.

jean: no, he wouldn’t wanna make you cry. although you do cry for his horse cock😩 he’d have a concerned expression on his face as he wipes you tears with his thumb, “what’s wrong ,baby?”

levi: absolutely not. literally despises crying. for himself and other. especially you. he’d wipe your tears as soon as they come when his dick is in your throat.

knife play?

eren: YES. he would purposely put a little pressure on the knife to scare you. this mfs a sadist. but he would be very careful to not hurt you. (if you ask why he would be into this but not choking you, it’s cuz with a knife, he knows he won’t actually fuckin stab you. he has control over the knife. his hands, he’s afraid not.) pain

jean: no omg— he would think you’re joking at first, his face forms the most horrid expression as he asks you if that’s an actual thing💀

levi: yes, he would never put pressure on the knife tho. he’d only glide it accross your body teasingly, the cold blade making you shiver under his touch as his eyes go dark. would like to do it to you when you’re blindfolded. doesn’t want you to see that dark look in his eyes.

blood play?

eren: yes. he likes to sometimes bite on your lower lip so hard it draws blood, he would keep kissing you, the iron-like taste not bothering him the slightest. it turns him on. also loves when you make him bleed by scratching your nails on his back, he throws his head back and fastens his thrusts 😩

jean: not really, my baby would get concerned— blood makes him uneasy 🥺

levi; absolutely not. too much ptsd and trauma from the sight of blood. doesn’t wanna see it painting your soft skin at all.

gun play?

eren: not really, he’s too violent to be handling a gun in sex.

jean: no—

levi: yes. he’d empty the gun beforehand tho, without you knowing.

candle wax 😳

eren: not really, he doesn’t like the redness it brings to your skin afterwards.

jean: likes if you do it on him, fucking loses it. he actually cries and whimpers, making you concerned but he nods his had swiftly, urging you to continue. likes the burn, reminds him of your touch, it’s not really any different from the burns your fingertips leave on him upon your touch.

levi: yes omfg- he loves it. he would also blindfold you for this one, probably tie you up too. loves to see you squirming in this situation. (omg i read this one fic on wattpad called “submit” and he was using candle wax and ice— AWOOGA)

ice play?

eren: yes yes yes, he’d run the ice down your stomach after rolling it on your nipples with his hands, he’d put it on your clit and chuckle as you squirm from the coldness of it. goes down on you to warm you up with his tongue afterwards.

jean: he likes it when you use it on him. holding the ice between your teeth as you run it over his nipples and down his chest. he’d be squirming and moaning.

levi: fuck yes. he’d put it in his mouth and kiss you with it, the ice melting between both of your tongues as he hums in your mouth. he’d also run it down your stomach and your nipples as he holds it in his mouth. the contrast of the cold ice and his warm tongue making you moan and whimper beneath him.

podophilia (foot fetish) dont read that as pedophilia uhm💀

eren: not really no, never crosses his mind.

jean: yes yes yes. omg absolutely this man having a foot fetish is canon to me😩 he’d love you giving him a foot job omf- would whine so much. also would kinda like licking your anckles and your toes as you giggle

levi: uhm. you must already know this clean freak. he thinks it’s fucking disgusting. i agree with him

ear fetish

eren: he likes it when you nibble on it or bite the shell of his ear. absolutely his weakest and sensitive spot

jean: not really idk why but no

levi: would nibble and tug on your ear as he’s fucking you, head burried in your neck as he pants and grunts.

food play?

eren: would loved to drizzle honey or whipped cream on you and lick it off your chest or stomach.

jean: would love for you too do it to him, with whipped cream or chocolate on his abs and chest, even his neck. he’d be a moaning, panting mess.

levi: does not like to involve food with sex 💀

chastity (holding back from sex to rile themselves or you up)

eren: hell no💀 he’s an impatient fuckin bastard. cannot handle going without fucking you for more than a couple days

jean: would love for you to do it to him. would beg you and plead as his cock throbs for days, though you know he likes it when you don’t give it to him instantly.

levi: yes yes yes. he would make himself go without sex for weeks. you have to beg him to stop and just let you fuck him, but he’d mutter sum about needing to “train his own stamina and self control, and your patience, brat.” but when you do break through him, trying to seduce him after weeks, it would be some of the best sex y’all have. going for rounds on rounds.

voyeurism

eren: as much as i love the “eren watching you fuck jean/reiner”— i think his possessive self will never ever let another man touch you. i mean cmon have u even read 139 🥲

jean: dont do that to him 🥺 he’s gonna be super insecure like omg- no

levi: absolutely not. do not test this man. he might not show his jealousy openly but you are his and only his.

role playing?

eren: i feel like he’s not that into it but he’d do it, he’s very picky so hmm maybe good cop and bad cop? 👀

jean: as i mentioned before, he’s very experimental and would do almost anything you ask of him, so yes. he’d be into doctor/patient ;) he likes it more when you’re the doctor but you can switch too oh my god bye now i’m thinking about jean in a white thingy doctors wear omf

levi: only captain/subordinate 😩😩😩

daddy kink

eren: not really, it makes him think about being an actual dad which turns him off 💀 sorry to crush yalls dreams 🤞🏻

jean: as i said, mommy kink. though he would like it if you addressed him as daddy while he takes control.

levi: no💀 finds it fucking weird. lowkey makes him sad n think about his dad and who he is or where he is he like being called captain sometimes tho ;)

degrading?

eren: fuck yes likes degrading you all the way. “look at you, my little slut.” “such a whore for my cock hm?”

jean: would like to be degraded 😁

levi: would keep it on the minimum— occasional “brat”s or “dumbass” jdjsjs nothing too intense. he has a way with his words :)

somnophilia sneaked this in at 200 when i forgot to add it cuz it’s my absolute fave kink

eren: he’d play with your body for minutes on minutes, loves to see you so responsive to his touch even in your sleep. he rubs slow circles on your clit, to get you wet. raises his brows when he notices you’re already soaked in your sleep. he literally fucks you awake. shoves his length in you balls deep as you scream and wake up— hitting his chest as he chuckles at you

jean: you’d both be asleep, until you wake up to the feeling of jean humping your thigh, whimpering in his slumber softly, you smirk. he’s chasing his high in his dream, mumbling your name as it’s barely recognizable. he wakes up to your mouth wrapped around him, cumming so fast as soon as he realizes he’s awake.

levi: he barely gets any sleep. but as he’s laying down next to you, head buried in his book while you’re stuck to him like a koala, he’s content. having one arm wrapped around your body and hand stopping at your waist. he’s brought out of the focus of his book by you moving against him. at first he thinks you’re waking up for some reason, then is proved wrong when you’re repeatedly grinding against his thigh, your leg wrapped around it. he chuckles, catching himself off guard. he watches as you hum in your sleep and say his name. he starts slowly meeting your grinds against his thigh, shaking it. he’s now rock hard in his shorts, teasing your hole through your panties with the hands on your back. you end up cumming in your sleep, he cums in his pants. fuck.

••••••••••

and there we have it— sorry if i left anything out- these are all the kinks i could think of for now 🥴

also ik i usually write hcs for aot and jjk boys but with this one, i kinda felt like only doing aot. since the paper i found had these 3 boys written on it 🤪

#aot #snk #snk smut #aot smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #jean smut #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirchstein #jean x reader #eren jaeger #eren smut #eren x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman smut

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hockeyshitandstuff · 3 years

Text

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing. Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

What do you think the Cullens would do if some person they were talking to, out of nowhere just quite literally exploded in front of, and on them? Kinda like in that movie Spontaneous. Would they lose control and slurp up the mess on the ground, (and themselves) or would their bloodlust be curtailed by shock of wtf just happened?

I'd say something witty about how this is a strange anon to receive, but holy jesus you've sent me down a rabbithole.

Here's a trailer to the movie Spontaneous. It looks amazing. Kevin Feige wishes this had been his plot for Infinity War.

Here's a trailer for the movie Spontaneous Combustion, which I found by accident while searching for your fic. This looks amazing too. Can't believe Marvel didn't buy the rights to this guy.

I'm serious, people, you definitely want to watch these trailers. I just about died laughing.

So, on to your ask.

In the spirit of your ask, which implies a level of randomness, I thought the people blowing up should be random too. So, being in the mood to procrastinate through spending way too much time on tumblr things, I wrote a program that'll generate for me random Twilight characters.

Unsure whether the explosion should kill vampires or not, I generated an answer. The answer is yes, any generated vampire dies.

Without further ado:

Alice watches Vladimir blow up.

Alright, alright.

The first question to be answered here is why Alice is in Vladimir's presence in the first time. In canon they only meet once, at the end of Breaking Dawn.

For the sake of simplicity, we'll have Vladimir blow up then.

The Cullens and the witnesses are all celebrating being alive, when Vladimir suddenly explodes.

For the sake of the ask, Alice is sitting closest to him when this happens and making conversation.

Her first thought is utter shock. Not just that he blew up, but that she didn't see it coming (she wouldn't, because I randomly generated him. No decision was made). Her second thought is horror.

The Cullens just confronted the Volturi, now mere hours afterwards their allies are blowing up.

Holy fuck, Aro has a gifted ace up his sleeve, and he's using it to kill them remotely.

Panic ensues, not just for Alice, but among all the witnesses. Some of them refuse to leave, Bella has to shield those 24/7, though given the belief that her gift is psychic that doesn't make them feel very safe.

The others decide to go after the Volturi and beg for mercy, assuring them they never meant to challenge them.

Aro, of course, is very confused, but agrees. Why, yes, he does have a vampire who blows people up. Yes, yes he does.

Bella watches Aro blow up.

Oh I'm dying laughing at this one. And wishing I'd put this down for Carlisle, that would be even funnier, but alright.

Bella is walking about post-Breaking Dawn, minding her own business, when suddenly Aro appears in front of her. He looks around himself, utterly surprised by his sudden deplacement, and then blows up.

Bella has been living in terror of this man for years.

In Volterra he had his servant torture her and Edward and then made ominious threats, then a few months later the Eclipse disaster unfolded, finally we have Breaking Dawn where he showed up to murder her and everyone she loved.

Her shield may be powerful, but for as long as Aro was alive her family was never truly safe.

His untimely implosion changes all of that.

I imagine after a long moment of incredulity, Bella burns the rubble, just to be sure, then tells her family the joyous news.

Carlisle gives the guy a funeral. It's weird.

Carlisle watches Vassilii blow up.

Close call, due to my not switching out the names we almost had Angela. In which case Carlisle have stood there, covered in blood and in shock for several long seconds, before bringing out the bleach and gasoline for a crime scene clean.

As it is, Carlisle is minding his own business when suddenly an immortal child dressed like a medieval Eastern European appears before him. It says something in a foreign language that might mean "hi", he doesn't know but he says "hi" to it back, then the child blows up.

Carlisle stares at the rubble for a very long time, wondering if he is perhaps losing his mind. If, perhaps, Aro was right about animal blood being a slow suicide, and Carlisle has finally hit the limit for how long a vampire can go on without human blood.

He burns the rubble and prays for the child's soul, as an immortal child is doomed anyway, and keeps his silence about what happened. In part because there's a solid chance this was all in his imagination.

If Aro ever touches his hand again, and sees the immortal child that he burned a thousand years earlier resurrect, travel through time, all in order to blow up in front of Carlisle, he... well there comes a point where you say "nothing to see here" and refuse eye contact with the universe glitching.

Edward watches Randall blow up.

Randall, for the ignorants, is one of Carlisle's friends that came to witness for the Cullens in Breaking Dawn.

Suddenly he appears in front of Edward, says hi and how do you do, and then he blows up.

Edward tells Carlisle, who is saddened by this, and they try to piece the guy together. They fail.

Edward sends a somber thought to this noble man who agreed with Edward that the Cullens are awesome enough to be worth dying for.

Emmett watches Mary blow up.

Emmett will never admit it, but it's the coolest, raddest thing he's ever seen.

Esme watches Eleazar blow up.

Oh boy.

The Cullens are visiting the Denali. Irina has not been dead for long, but given the crystal clear memory of vampires, and the loss they already suffered (Sasha's death traumatized them) it doesn't really matter how long it's been, the Denali are devastated anyway.

The whole coven is as fragile as it can possibly get.

Then, Eleazar goes to join Esme in the kitchen, and explodes all over her and the kitchen.

The remaining Denali and the Cullens are called to the kitchen by the sound of Esme's screaming, and find her in hysterics, surrounded by gray rubble.

The Denali are near catatonic with grief at this point, while cooking has been ruined for Esme. One moment you're making food, the next people are exploding all over your kitchen.

Yeah.

Esme is not okay.

Jasper watches Nahuel blow up.

It's a shameful moment in his life.

But, hybrids are edible.

And that blood was splattered all over him.

Jasper has the worst control fail of his life, worse even than when he failed with Bella because this fail means he can't be around Renesmée anymore.

It's miserable all around.

The one highlight here is that it didn't happen when they were headed to the Volturi trial together.

Rosalie watches Emmett blow up.

Jesus christ, random Twilight character generator, just when I thought you were just going to give me boring results.

Not only does Rosalie lose the love of her life, the guy who kept her together, the one good thing she had going for her who made her life worth living, but he did so right in front of her, blowing up out of nowhere.

There's no explanation to be had, no culprit to be found, no reason for it. She had no goodbye, just as she can have no revenge.

She will never have closure.

Renesmée watches Renée blow up.

We go out on a high note, my god. Well done, generator, I'm laughing.

Renesmée is curious enough about her grandmother to go to Florida. She was going to watch from afar, but finds herself talking to the woman who raised her mother.

It's all going well until Renée suddenly explodes all over Renesmée.

Renesmée's first thought is nothing, she's in shock.

Then...

Well, she was controlled as an infant, so I don't think an adult Renesmée would lose it unless under extreme circumstances, like if she encountered a singer.

More, though, Renesmée might have any reasons of her own not to drink human blood, but she has been raised with this being a big no-no.

So she shouldn't.

However...

Is she ever going to get a better chance?

Ethically, she could easily argue this is the right choice. No one will be negatively affected by this, at least not directly.

The human is right there, already dead, and there's no body so while Renesmée does have to clean up the gore. Hell, if she laps up the blood on her clothes and the ground she will be cleaning up. Why waste perfectly good blood?

If Renesmée Cullen is ever going to have human blood, this is it.

It will come down to how much she respects her grandfather, and how important she believes Renée was to Bella.

Bonus, because I'm having way too much fun with this:

Bree watches Atheonodora blow up.

Bree is minding her own business when suddenly a vampire unlike any she has ever seen before, one with hazy eyes and odd skin, appears before her. They stare at each other. Then the woman blows up.

Bree takes this to mean that exploding is apparently something vampires just do sometimes, runs off in a panic and, sobbing, tells Riley.

Riley, having no idea what to make of any of this, tells her it was those evil yellow-eyes with their witchcraft and sorcery.

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komoreangel · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

pairing: scaramouche x fem!reader

scenario: you met when you were both very young, and since the day he left you behind he still feels an undying fear for what sight would await him if he dared to return home.

or…

thantophobia - the fear of losing a loved one. but he had made it perfectly clear that you did not fall under that category when he left you and all of your promises behind.

request: okok my first idea was: scaramouche childhood friends to enemies to lovers. take with that what you will <3

a/n: hi anon ty so very much for the request we all know i love scara <33 but i did tweak it a bit basically its childhood friends to enemies to scara loves reader but reader isnt convinced (with a hint of 'ive always loved you' thrown in)

side note: this is a rewrite of an excerpt i wrote for a scara x oc, in which the oc was female (the same is said here but i will avoid using pronouns) and adopted into the kamisato clan as a princess (minor inazuma spoilers). the same situation is stated here. also i am 1000% willing to write more of this (includes my personal headcanons for scaramouche’s backstory, not canon!!)

growing up, you had always had poor health

your mother worried for you a lot when you were younger

she didn’t like to let you go outside much either

you spent most of your time in the palace walls while she worked, frequently being taken to see the royal physician

you would sit outside the door while your parents talked with the doctors about your “condition”

you weren’t even that sick

just weak for your age

that was when you first met him

he was training to be a soldier along his father

you were like a ghost in his eyes

sitting in the hall in the middle of the night

knees pushed to your chest, snoozing in the soft light of the moon

he was naturally a curious boy, so he kneeled in front of you and poked your shoulder

“hello?”

you startled awake

“wah-!” he fell back at your sudden movement

“who are you?” you asked

your voice was soft, and gentle, like a midnight breeze

“i’m [redacted].”

you remember what he told you, but some part of that memory had been erased from your mind…you wonder to this day what he could have said.

“my name is y/n.”

he thought it was a pretty name, although he wasn’t going to say anything

the two of you sat in the moonlight, talking quietly amongst yourselves

“why are you sitting outside the physician’s office?” he asked you

“my mama says i’m sick, and that going outside will make it worse.”

“oh. are you going to get better soon?”

you smile at him, a gesture that makes his chest tighten, although he can’t fathom why.

“yeah! she says that if we can afford to get some medicine from liyue, i’ll be all better! then i can start making friends!”

he slightly smiles

“can i be your friend, [redacted]?”

you had even said the name yourself once. why couldn’t you remember it?

his expression shifts to a slightly surprised look

“you…want to be my friend?”

he was quiet even then, and his silent expression would grow to an angry one over time

“yeah! you’re interesting, and you’re one of the few people who bothers to talk to me.”

he doesn’t speak for a while.

“you can say no if you want to.” you say to him.

“okay. i’ll be your friend.”

it’s a short response, but the bright grin that lights up your face makes it worth the wait

“yay! i can’t wait till i’m better so we can hang out more!”

you two talked in that hallway a lot

meeting after dark, talking about anything in the world

when you were about six, the worst of your illness hit you

the doctors didn’t even know what was wrong, and there were nights when he would sit outside the physician’s office alone at night, hoping, praying that the sun would shine on a world that still had you in it

you would collapse from exhaustion at the slightest overexertion

his father always told him he had to be careful with you, not only were you shorter than him, but you were also very fragile

those hours spent sitting in the hallway alone, he got to do a lot of thinking

he wanted to help you, but he didn’t know how

then, there was a sudden burst of hope

you were going to liyue with your parents

you would get the help you needed

he was happy for you, even if it meant you would have to spend time away from him

and then there was the terrible news

the ship had gone missing

you had too

he couldn’t sleep for days on end

his father was worried too

when he saw you again, you found yourself shuddering on the shores of inazuma

he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could, as if his strength alone could undo everything that had happened

it was one of the few times he showed affection in public

he rushed you to the healer again

and this time there was no hoping

there was no praying

there was just the pit in his stomach, the fear that coursed through his veins and fueled his blood

every second felt like a decade, it was a moment in which you weren’t perfectly healthy and safe

the townspeople began to spread rumors, as people do

the guard’s son who was lovesick with worry for the sickly orphan girl

what a pity, no?

he wanted to shut them up. he wished he had the power to shut them up.

when even his father had to drag him away from the pharmacy, he didn’t talk to anyone for a very long time.

this was around the time he grew sour and snappy

his simply quiet demeanor developed into a scowl that constantly graced his face

he only smiled the day you were released from the physicians.

you weren’t fully healed. but you felt better than you ever had in your life.

his father took you in without a second thought, and he was just happy to have you with him.

“i’m better, scara.” you said to him, a happy smile on your face

“i was wondering when you’d hurry up and get well.”

you were a bit troubled by his attitude, but no less, you were happy to see your friend again.

it went like that for a long time.

he was rude, but you didn’t care because you knew what he was like underneath.

some nights he would sneak into your room and talk to you.

he told you he was just bored and felt like annoying you.

but his real reason was to make sure you were still breathing.

he always worried about you

so the day you received your vision, he felt a lot of relief

surely this meant that you could protect yourself. you were safe.

then the worst of all things happened.

his fathers death.

the day he felt like his world was ripped from underneath his feet.

almost immediately, the electro archon, baal, herself, intervened, and declared that you were to be adopted into the kamisato clan.

why you? why couldn’t he keep you with him? he was old enough to be able to take care of both of you

baal didn’t like his questioning. she said she knew what was best for you.

it was strange. because in the days he spent with you after, although not many, you didn’t seem sick at all.

for the first time, you seemed perfectly healthy.

he was glad for that…but he wasn’t happy. you could see that easily.

you knew this wasn’t the right thing for him

he stuck around for a year. you suppose you’re lucky he even stayed that long. you were pretty much his only reason.

sure he found friends in ayaka and kazuha…but he was unhappy.

he knew there was no point in staying, so he thought it was time he took his leave.

he approached you one day, as the sun began to set

you were worried for him, as he had been very angry towards baal and the emperor lately.

“scara, is there something you want to talk about?”

you watch as he stands before you

he blurts out, “run away with me.”

you’re taken aback almost immediately.

“what?”

he repeats his statement

“i’m going to flee from inazuma. come with me.”

“scara..”

his expression, as it does often these days, turns stern and serious.

“i’m not going to ask you again. come with me, y/n.”

you’re tired of him ordering you around.

“you know i can’t. i have duties here. i can’t just betray my country for you.”

“you know baal wants me gone. she’s going to kill me if i stay. she might do the same to you.”

you scoff at his words. “she won’t harm me or you. you’re being dramatic.”

he spits out his next words, laced with venom. “baal killed my father. i hate her and so should you.”

“scara.”

“it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about him just because you’re royalty now.”

“scara.”

“don’t call me scara. come with me if you ever cared at all.”

“scaramouche!”

he goes quiet

“don’t go. please.”

he frowns

“you know i can’t do that.”

you want to try and make him stay

but he won’t. you know nothing you say will convince him. he won’t let himself be convinced by you, even if that’s what he truly wants.

you inhale

“get out of here.”

“what?”

“go. leave. and take this with you.”

you throw the necklace you were wearing at him, and he catches it. baal had exiled him, it was true, but he couldn’t expect you to throw everything away for him.

“wait, what are you-“

as the two of you stare each other down, you hear ayaka’s voice coming from the courtyard, calling for you.

she has a guard with her, as the emperor assigns every royal family member. you managed to ditch yours early on.

“the guard is gonna get you if you stay, scara. get out of here, now.”

he scoffs

“whatever. i can’t believe i thought you were worth risking my life.”

he pockets the necklace and steps over the wall, and he’s gone.

nine years of friendship and he threw you away like you were nothing

in truth, the minute he was out of sight, he threw down his bag in anger

he turned around and you weren’t there anymore

you gave up on him

so if he hated you, you deserved it

it might be worth a hefty price anyway.

at least that’s what he told himself

(he never stopped missing you. almost as soon as he joined the fatui, he requested an audience with the tsaritsa to ask her how you were doing.)

“a simple agent, asking that much of me? and for a girl? that’s very bold of you.”

upon hearing it was about you, the cryo archon grew very interested. of course she remembered you.

the sickly orphan she gifted a vision to at a very young age.

she told him you were well

what she didn’t tell him was about baal going berserk and massacring thousands of her people.

upon receiving the news, he felt that chill upon him once again

the fear that fell onto his shoulders, weighing him down, too scared to ask for more information. he didn’t want to be told you were gone.

“the royal family was not harmed.”

he felt his muscles relax as he calmed down.

he quickly reassumed an upright stance.

he was the sixth harbinger. he has no weaknesses. he cares for nothing and no one.

but beneath his mask, the fire of his love for you burned brighter than the flame of any pyro vision.

a/n: ok so i really enjoyed this….scara banner when. i did tweak it a bit but i have other things written for this scenario in which scara returns to inazuma and reader is (deservingly) PISSED with him :) lmk if you want me to post those !

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nightwcngs · 3 years

Text

Jason Todd | Why

Pairing: Jason Todd x F!Reader Prompt: "Sometimes I question why you're with me." Warnings: language, slight angst Word Count: 1.3k A/N: it has been too long since I've written for Jason (or dc in general). This is loosely based off of the song "I Love You" by Avril Lavigne

You've always liked his smile. Not the one he gave to family, friends, or teammates - that one could easily be faked if he was having an off day. No, the smile you adored was the he reserved for private moments with you. The one that he couldn't help but show off as a laugh escaped him, one you could easily pull from him. If you had to pick, your favorite would definitely be the one he gave you when you caught him staring at you. A shy grin plastered on his face as a blush tinted his cheeks.

Hell, it was just one of the many things you loved about Jason Todd.

Jason wasn't always so good with his words, but he couldn't help but wonder how he ended up with someone like you. Or why you were with him. Whenever he asked what was so great about him, you always answered with a simple 'everything'. Feelings of insecurity stopped him from asking anything further.

In the end, he settled for the simple answer because he didn't want to push it. He was so scared one day you'd get tired of his insecurities and questioning that you'd leave. He's had enough people walk away from him, he didn't want to lose you as well.

It was when he watched you clean up after dinner he knew he had to ask. He was staying over your place for the night, and even watching you do something as simple as cleaning dishes got butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He didn't want this feeling to go away - even if it meant being a little vulnerable.

"Let me help you with that."

"You don't have to," your smile was enough to have his heart beating faster.

"After all the shit you do for me, it's the least I can do."

You nodded, handing him a few things to wash. You knew something was on his mind but always knew when to ask and when to let him say so on his own. Jason had little quirks that you only got to knew once you spent enough time with you. And he, thankfully, let you in a lot sooner then you expected.

He spoke up once the dishes were done, the words left his lips so quietly you weren't sure you heard him correctly.

"What was that, Jay?"

"I said, we need to talk. Got some shit on my mind."

You nodded, following him to the couch. You were preparing yourself for the worst, thinking Jason was about to break up with you. A little breath of relief left you when it was just the opposite.

"I need to know, why are you with me? And please don't just say that you think everything about me is so great. I just - I've done a lot of fucked up things, [Y/N]. You could have anyone you want and you chose to be by my side this whole time. Why?"

You thought over your next words carefully. You didn't want to scare him off. An idea then hit you, a small smile pulling at your lips.

"Can I show you something?"

Jason simply nodded, brow furrowed in confusion. He followed you to your bedroom, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he watched you climb under the bed. Confusion turned into curiosity when you pulled out a rectangular box and gently placed it on the bed. A simple label with the word "memories" scribbled across it laid smoothly on the lid.

"What's all that?"

Jason came to sit behind you, arms loosely slipping around your waist as his chin rested against your shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw the contents of the box; it was all things that had to do with him and your relationship.

"You're always telling me how you've done some bad things, how I deserve better. Take a look at these, it might help change your mind."

Jason watched in awe as you pointed out the items.

"Here's the pictures from the photo booth we took on our first date. That's one of my favorite things about you; how you're not really one for tradition. First dates usually consist of dinner and a movie and you're over here taking me on rides at an amusement park."

Jason chuckled, smiling at the memory, "I wanted to make a good first impression. I was nervous as fuck you weren't gonna end up liking me."

"If I didn't like you I wouldn't have gone the done, silly."

Jason smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple as you went through more items. As you shifted things around, something caught his eye.

"Oh hey, look at this! It's the rock I got you from the beach!" He paused, "You know, saying that out loud just makes me want to die of embarrassment. 'Oh hey honey, here I got you this rock.' What am I, a fucking bird?"

You couldn't help the laughter that escaped you, "You're a dork. It's cute, and don't you remember you wrote our initials on the back?"

Jason turned the rock over, smiling as his thumb ran over the dried ink.

"Of course I remember. It was the day I realized I was in love with you. Couldn't help but tell you a week later."

Your silence was deafening. He was worried he said something wrong. He looked down at you, only to see the tears welling in your eyes. He panicked, grip tightening as he kissed your head.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

You shook your head, "Sorry, just thinking back over all this is a little overwhelming. I just - holy shit do I love you. And I can't help but wonder why you would think I would want anyone else and the man in front of me is everything I could've asked for."

Jason was quiet as you put the box away. When you came back up, he was still in the same position, lost in thought. You gently rested a hand on his thigh, squeezing softly.

"Hey, talk to me. No judgment here, baby."

"I guess after everything I've been through, it's hard to accept you want to be with me. I try to do right by you, treat you as I should, but that doesn't explain why you love me. I don't think anyone would fall in love with their partner because they got a rock."

A small laugh escaped you as you stood between his parted thighs. Your arms loosely locked around his neck as you kissed him.

"It's quite simple, Jason. The reason I love you, is you. You are a puzzle I slowly got to put together, and I fell more in love with you with each piece I found. Every day with you is so much better than the last, and I'll take every good and every bad if it means getting to be with you."

A few tears fell as your words sunk in. He pulled you in for a hug, a hand cradling your head. You only pulled away when he calmed down, your eyes meeting his steel blue ones.

"Are you okay? Are your questions answered?"

Jason nodded, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

"Yeah, just realized something."

"What's that?"

A smile pulled at his lips as he kissed you again, "How lucky am I to be able to be loved by you?"

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Note

I just read your Riven fics and ommggg they are so good!! Idk if you are making a part three but I will definitely look out for it! I haven’t started the sly ones but I can’t wait!

Come back to me // part 2

Pairing: Riven x light!fairy

Breath caught in her throat, she felt her hands tremble as her eyes lingered on the envelope on her pillow. The handwriting is in the kind of black that speaks of nighttime dreaming. The letters are so typically Riven - messy and yet she could see the effort behind each and every word - To my Sunshine - .

It’s been a long time since he last wrote her a love note, far too long for her to truly remember what it said. She remembers how it made her feel - hopeful, elated, giddy. That’s all Riven needed to win her over - love notes he’d slip in her books whenever she wasn’t looking.

This time it felt different. The note brought anxiety, fear of what the envelope may hide inside. They barely speak nowadays and when they do, Riven is crude and too often she finds herself crying herself to sleep because of how convincing he is with his act. Sometimes she wonders if he’s acting at all or if that’s who he is with everyone but her and it makes her feel guilty. How can she still be questioning his loyalties?

Shaking her head, she releases a heavy sigh before her shaky fingers pry open the envelope. The paper inside is barely ink stained, a few words written for her aching heart.

“Still Your Asshole”

Chuckling, Y/N covers her mouth with an open palm, glancing at the door to make sure no one is nearby. It wasn’t a chuckle that seemed to stop as it turned into a cackle and that cackle turned into a sob. She didn’t know where the sobs came from, she just knew she couldn’t stop. As if the soul could bleed an ocean through the eyes, that was the enormity of her sobbing.

Screaming into her pillow, Y/N felt the rawness of her pain fully. It had revealed its ugly head and she couldn’t breathe.

Riven may be hers but he isn’t. It takes a moment, a single mistake for him to be uncovered by Rosalind or Beatrix and he’d be taken from her. She’d never get to run her fingers through his brown hair, she’d never get to kiss his lips again or feel his hand in hers. He’d never tease her again, he’d never write her a new note or insist she needs him to teach her to fight. All of it would be gone in a blink of any eye and the severity of that realization choked the light out of her, even if for a little while.

She can’t always be the Sunshine. Clouds will eventually clear, but she needs the little bit of darkness and the sweetness it brings. Even if she’s in pain, even if the sadness threatens to suffocate her, she craves it.

Riven makes her weak, he makes her vulnerable. She never dreamed she could care for a man like Riven, she certainly didn’t wish it, but she does. It’s more than caring for Riven, she’s way past that. Whatever wicked game he played to make her feel that way for him, it worked. She fell in love with Riven and now it’s consuming her.

Wiping her tears, she stashes the letter under her mattress before walking out in the sun. If she can’t be the light, she can at least get the warmth of another’s light.

She lays down on the damp grass, looking up at the sky. She looked at the sky like a man would look at a withered flower in which he no longer sees the beauty he plucked it for, thus destroying it.

This noble heart that beat only for the most tender of emotions had to be subjected to pain to learn the secret of life:

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wrecks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss.

She’s in the abyss now.

“You can’t be here”, and then she hears his voice, pulling her away from the darkness. “Come on”, he whisper shouts as he takes her by the hands and helps her to her feet.

She’s a little dizzy, disoriented by the sudden change in position. His eyes are on her, his face inches away and yet she feels like they’re a thousand miles apart. She doesn’t fight him as he drags her to the greenhouse, closing the door quickly so no one would see them.

“I got your note”, she’s the first one to speak. Riven turns to her with a small smile only for it to fall when he truly looks at her - puffy, red eyes and dry lips aren’t easily mistakable.

He let out a slow controlled breath, “Is that why you cried?” Riven’s eyebrows furrow as he steps closer to her, his hands on his hips.

“I cried because I miss you!” She shouts, her fingers flickering alight and she knows she’s losing control. A shuddered breath passes her quivering lips, “I miss you and I’m worried about you and I hate you.” She says through gritted teeth and Riven can’t help but stumble back, confused.

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, pointing his right index finger at himself, “What did I do?”

Scoffing, Y/N shakes her head. “YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN HERE!” Covering her mouth, she turns away from him. She never told him that she loved him before and he never uttered anything close to it either. She feared looking at him and not have him say it back. After all, why would he?

“You love me?” Riven breathes out, still trying to collect himself. Crossing the distance between them, Riven wraps his arms around her. Pulling her back against his chest, he folds his hands over her abdomen. He’s holding on tightly, like she’s a dream he’s afraid to wake up from.

“You love me?” He repeats in a whisper. Knitting her eyebrows together, she frowns and bites into the soft flesh of the inside of her bottom lip as his lips brush her earlobe.

“Yes”, she leans her head back on his shoulder, relaxing in his arms.

“Good.” Riven whispers and she snaps out of it, slapping his hands until he lets go.

“Good?” She exclaims, her glare deadlier than a blade.

“Yeah?” Riven chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

“I tell you I love you and all you have to say is good?” She deadpans, before throwing her hands in the air, “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah. It’s good, because I’ve been in love with you for about a year now and it’s good to know you finally feel the same way.” Riven shrugs, “But go on. I like it when you’re angry.”

Rolling her eyes, she playfully slaps his chest, “Don’t fucking do that to me!”

“Did you just say a swear word?” Riven’s eyes widen, a grin much wider making Y/N blush.

“You’re really going to nitpick at my language instead of kissing me now when we finally got a moment alone in months?” She raises an eyebrow, tapping her foot nervously.

“I’m actually running late”, Riven wets his lips and yet he doesn’t move away, but closer to Y/N. All he can taste is the cherry chapstick she wore the first time they kissed. That was on a constant loop inside his head.

“We could run?” Y/N tries, but Riven only shakes his head.

“I spent my whole life running. I can’t betray Sky like that. He’s my brother.”

Struggling to inhale, Y/N whispers, “And what am I to you?”

“The love of my life.” Riven blurts out without a second thought as his hands cups her cheeks, “You’re the only reason why I’m never going to give up.”

“You’re saying all the right words and my heart still hurts”, she sniffles, hoping she doesn’t cry again. She’s had enough of crying for a lifetime.

“I wish I could make it better, I do.” Closing his eyes, Riven leans his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am. With all I’ll ever be.” Drawing in a sharp inhale, he holds his breath for a moment to stop tears from forming. “If I were a better man, I’d have let you go.”

“Don’t be the better man”, she croaks, her fingers curling his hair at the back of his head. “Be the bad guy. Just be mine.” And she kissed him. With a devastating sweetness, an innocence - as if this were the first time. Strong fingers curved about her jaw and warmth seeped into her bones, her skin, her soul.

The lips held to hers, reassuringly alive. Riven had reassured her by the strength of his arms surrounding her and the steady wilderness in his chest, beat of a heart not her own.

She was no longer alone in misery. Someone was there, keeping her warm, holding the memories at bay and dangers of the world could no longer get to her. Her lips softened; tentatively, she returned the kiss with all her heart.

Breaking the kiss, Riven’s arms leave her, the warmth going with him. She stumbles, catching her breath.

Riven glances at his phone only to swear under his breath and she knows something’s happened.

“Listen to me”, Riven swallows thickly, “Stay with Stella and the rest tonight.”

“Why”, Y/N frowns, folding her arms across her chest.

“Don’t ask questions, please.” Pecking her lips, Riven takes a few steps back, “If you love me as much as you say you do, go now and stay with the girls. I’ll try to contact you as soon as I can.”

“Riven”, Y/N raises her voice, unnerved and anxious about his behavior.

“Sunshine, please”, his voice softens and she nods, licking her lips. Before she can say a word, he manages a smile, “I’ll come back to you. I will.”

And that’s when he leaves and Y/N does as he asked. But the nagging feeling inside her chest is relentless - something bad is happening and someone is going to get hurt.

Part 4

#riven fate winx saga #riven x reader #riven imagine #riven #fate the winx saga #fate riven #riven x fairy #fate the winx saga fanfic #fate the winx saga fic

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Eventual Osamu x Reader

Rating: E for fucking Samu in the car :-)

Word Count: 4.4k of Miya twin shenanigans, fluff, then eventual smut

Summary: A hopeful love and a blossomed love; years of wishing on candles and they’re both content.

a/n: @powderblew ur the hopeful love my beloved

Contrary to popular belief, Miya Atsumu does not speed. Yes, he nearly loses his mind on the interstate every other day but his road rage is completely contained to cursing in the confines of his car. Most people think Atsumu’s the reckless driver with his loud personality and penchant for pulling off risky moves on the court, but surprisingly, it’s his counterpart who fully believes that the actual speed limit is at least ten above the posted signage and weaves through lanes with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh.

Atsumu got Osamu the car as a birthday gift—black, sleek, and quiet. He had been dropping hints for weeks but Osamu had brushed them off, figuring his brother was spewing incoherent nonsense.

It was the weekend before their birthday. They decided to take a trip to the mountains—it was rare at this point in their young adult lives to have the free time to spend with each other. Osamu was busy with the shop: serving customers, preparing food, and trying new dishes. Getting Onigiri Miya off the ground was a seven day work week with early mornings and late nights. Atsumu on the other hand, had regularly scheduled practices and travel matches with the team. Although his schedule was incredibly hectic, there was a sort of rhythmic regularity to it.

So, for the first weekend in a long time where it would be just them, Atsumu wanted it to be special. Afterall, it was their birthday. Atsumu was the one who drove them to the campsite, taking in the scenery with appreciation, going slowly on the winding roads while mindlessly tapping a beat on the steering wheel. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Osamu could tell his brother was antsy.

His eyes would flicker from the road, to Osamu, then back again. His mindless tapping to the music turned into an incessant drilling and he kept readjusting his legs and changing his hand position on the wheel, fidgeting in his seat.

“Wouldya’ quit that, yer gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Osamu said, exaggeratingly clutching to the grab handle at the top of his window.

“Yer really gonna yell at me on ma’ birthday that’s jus’ like ya’ Samu—”

“It’s ma’ birthday too ya’ idiot!”

The sound of his brother’s bickering quelled Atsumu’s nerves and he settled in the driver’s seat, humming along to the song playing on the speakers. In response, Osamu turned up the volume, but Atsumu just grinned.

“You will arrive at your destination in .2 miles,” the smooth voice of the GPS chimed.

Atsumu began fidgeting again and Osamu swore he was gonna punch him the moment they made it out of the death trap.

They pulled into the winding driveway and Osamu banged his head against the dashboard.

“Please tell me ya’ didn’t screw up the reservation,” he said quietly.

“What kinda idiot, do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined. Although Osamu couldn’t see with his forehead pressed against the polished wood interior, Atsumu was smiling.

“Then why is there another car parked in our spot?” Osamu deadpanned, turning his head to his brother, still pressed into the dash.

“Look again an’ eat yer words ya’ scrub.”

Driving slowly forward towards the car and parking next to it, Osamu realized that a bright red bow was tied to the hood. He stilled in his seat and stared dumbly out his window, slowly turning towards his brother.

“Do ya’ like it, Samu?” Atsumu nearly whispered, leaning in close to his brother, eyes wide, committing every micro reaction to memory.

Osamu blinked once. Twice. Then turned back to the car.

“Yeah, Tsumu,” he said shakily, “I really do.”

Against the burning in his throat and the tightening of his eyes, Osamu willed himself to remain composed when he heard rustling. Atsumu took out a crumpled and worn piece of notebook paper, its edges frayed and torn and began to smooth it out in his palms.

He cleared his throat and stared at the empty space across Osamu’s shoulder.

“So, uh…” he began, uncharacteristically shy and Osamu sent a prayer that this wasn’t a speech about how Tsumu had somehow accidentally razed Onigiri Miya to the ground in the short period that he wasn’t there and this was all an elaborate apology.

“I know that this year’s been tough with Onigiri Miya jus’ startin’ out an’ everythin’ but I jus’ wanted to say,” Atsumu trailed off and scratched his ear before suddenly, startling Osamu, squaring his shoulders and directing a piercing stare into his brother’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you Samu!” he nearly yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Osamu felt the heat prickle against his neck and all he could do was blink owlishly at his twin.

“What on Earth are ya’ goin’ on about?” he questioned incredulously.

“Okay, okay, wait I wrote it all down,” Atsumu said quickly, smoothing the worn paper once again. He cleared his throat a few times before reading.

“Osamu—”

“Oh my god is this a proposal, why is this so formal?” Osamu asked out loud.

“God, shut yer big ol’ trap wouldya I am tryin’ here,” Atsumu bit back to the amusement of his twin. “Anyways,” he grumbled. “Samu. I’ve been thinkin’ for a while and I jus’ wanted to say thank ya’ for always bein’ there for me.”

Osamu did not often feel stupid. Well, that’s a lie, he thought. It’s been a year since Onigiri Miya’s opening and he was only just beginning to feel as if he was able to call his job stable and that he had a solid understanding of how things should be ran. However, it was not often that his brother made him feel stupid, but here he was, at a loss for words at this uncharacteristic show of appreciation.

Yes, high fives and hugs had always come easily after a particularly clean hit or a perfectly executed pass, but they never sat down like this and talked about how much they appreciated each other. Osamu figured it was unsaid in the little things—how the clothes Atsumu stole in high school always ended back clean in Osamu’s closet, how Osamu usually ended up making two bentos when they still lived together, or how Atsumu had always tried to include Osamu in team bonding even when Osamu was in college.

“I think,” Atsumu said, breaking Osamu out of his thoughts. “That you were what made me work so hard at volleyball. Not because you were the only one that could challenge me,” Osamu scoffed at this. “But because you were the only one I cared to play with for a long time.”

Tears pricked at his eyes and Osamu nodded at his brother to continue.

“An’ thinkin’ back, yer probably the only reason why ma’ teammates didn’t excommunicate me like they did to Tobio-kun,” Atsumu joked and Osamu cracked a smile despite the burning of his throat.

“An’ I know we’ve talked about this before, but I am still really sorry when I went off on ya’ when ya’ told me you were quittin’ volleyball. I don’t mean to beat a dead horse or anything—”

“You sound like Baa-chan,” Samu choked out, still trying to hold back tears, hands balled into fists on his lap.

Undeterred, Atsumu continued to read. “But the fact that fer the first time, ya’ wouldn’t be by my side on the court was jus’ never a possibility I’d considered. So ‘m sorry ‘bout the fuss I made even though I know that’s all old news.” He paused and nodded at Osamu, noting his fists and drew in a shaky breath.

“’Samu, I jus’ want to let ya’ know that I am so endlessly proud to be yer brother and all the work ya’ put in in college and startin’ Miya Onigiri honestly scared me a little,” he said chuckling. “The way you really focus in on somethin’ when yer concentrating was always so intense, but I’d only really seen it with volleyball. But ever since you went to college, and especially with this past year, I can’t believe I fought you to go pro with me because I’d never seen ya’ more fired up or intense than ya’ have been this past year.”

The sides of Atsumu’s paper begin to tear with the force of his grip, and both twins are mirror images of each other. Red in the face, hands in fists, and willing the other to cry first.

“Basically,” Atsumu drawled on, hands slightly shaking, “thank ya’ for bein’ the best brother and teammate I coulda’ ever asked for and I’m so, so, proud to be the brother of the founder of Onigiri Miya.” He lowered the paper from his line of vision and accidentally crumbled it with his hand as he blurt out, “And I love you!” turning even redder in embarrassment. “Even though ya’ never respond to my texts and make fun a’ me when I bring my teammates ‘round,” he quickly added in.

Osamu undid his seatbelt and forcefully opened his door. He heard Atsumu’s confused “huh” and watched as he fumbled with his seatbelt through the windshield as he crossed to the other side. Atsumu stumbled out of the driver’s seat and Osamu captured him in a bone crushing hug. One hand wrapped around his back and the other held Atsumu’s head as he cried into his neck.

He thought back to the first semester of culinary school when he questioned himself every single day if it was the right choice to have made. Learning and practicing different techniques that felt foreign was a hurdle that had seemed impossible at the time. Then, when he graduated and he figured he knew almost everything there was to know about the food industry after hours and hours of lab, internships, and class and began preparations for opening Miya Onigiri, he realized once again that he knew nothing. Even a year after founding Miya Onigiri and he still found himself doubting his success.

But, hearing his idiot brother tell him he was proud—was all he needed. Because Miya Osamu also pushed himself to the upper limits of his physical and mental abilities because his brother was the only one he wanted to compete with. It didn’t matter who else might try and challenge them, at the end of their finish lines, the only person they wanted to see was each other.

The autumnal air was incredibly crisp and although the forest surrounding their luxury cabin was teeming with life, time around them seemed to still as they both cried.

“This is too much, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sniffled out. “My gift ta’ ya’ was literally like, two hundred dollars.”

“It’s okay,” sniffled Atsumu. He paused. “What’d ya’ get me?”

Osamu pulled away and wiped his face with the bottom hem of his sweater.

“I got ya’ a signed copy of that book you were yappin’ on about with yer favorite author and I got her to make a video for ya’ sayin’ happy birthday and all that—”

“Oh my god,” Atsumu said excitedly, “Yer tellin’ me ya’ got Sonia Barnes to write me a handwritten message and a private video!?”

Osamu grimaced at the snot Atsumu had dripping down his chin. “First of all don’t say it like that, an’ second of all, wipe yer nose or somethin’ ya’ scrub.”

Completley ignoring his brother’s complaints, Atsumu lunged at Osamu, begging him to show him the video. Osamu tapped at his phone, opened up the email attachment, and watched the myriad expressions of surprise, admiration, love, and happiness flicker across Atsumu’s face during a 20 second video while red eyed and swollen. He mused that this was possibly the best birthday they ever had.

“Let’s take this baby on a test drive,” Osamu said, eagerly waiting by the door as Atsumu watched his birthday video for the umpteenth time.

That Sonia Barnes was a very pretty lady, Osamu reasoned, but if he had to hear her chirp, “Happy Birthday Tsumu!” one more time, she was going to be the cause of fratricide.

Settling into the leather seat, Osamu pressed the start button and nearly cooed at the soft rumble of the engine.

Throwing himself into the passenger’s seat Atsumu said, “Let’s figure out how ta’ connect to Bluetooth so I can hear ma’ angel on speaker,” fiddling with the touch screen.

Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s phone and threw it in the backseat and put the car in drive just as Atsumu started to clamber in the back for it. He peeled down the driveway as Atsumu screamed and picked up speed down the secluded road as Atsumu managed to get back in his seat and secure the seat belt.

The pretty autumn foliage was a blur of orange and reds and Osamu breathed in the smell of new leather and wood polish.

“S-slow down!” Atsumu yelled, quickly activating the lock function on the seatbelt and gripping the grab handle with both hands. “I-is this b-because I told the whole team you’d giv’ em’ free food if they said they were my teammate,” he screamed, “I’ll tell ‘em nevermind!”

Osamu rolled down the windows and the sun roof and laughed as the wind ran through his hair while his brother cried for the second time that day.

A year later and Osamu’s still in the driver’s seat of his car, but this time, she’s in the passenger’s seat. They have all the windows down and he’s speeding along the coast of Hyogo, sea breeze whipping through their hair and the sound of waves breaking in the distance.

She had planned a full day for his birthday: brunch at their favorite restaurant, a walk through the shopping district, and a homemade dinner with a fruit tart from his favorite bakery. Now that he had two years of experience running Onigiri Miya, he could afford to step away from the shop every so often. Unfortunately, his counterpart was on the other side of the world for a match, but they managed to squeeze in a short videocall despite the time difference.

“’Samu!” Atsumu screamed from the other line, “Happy Birthday!”

Wincing, Osamu turned the volume of his phone down as she giggled and wished his brother a Happy Birthday.

“What’d ya’ plan for Samu’s birthday,” Atsumu asked her, “good luck beatin’ ma’ gift from last year—”

“Tsumu!” Osamu berated.

“Unfortunately, my research job doesn’t pay as much as being a pro-volleyballer,” she rolled her eyes, “but I do have some fun things lined up,” she said, smiling softly at Osamu to which Atsumu gagged.

“Ya’ scrub, just ‘cause yer jealous—”

“Tsumu!” she interrupted, “did you get our gift? We were a little nervous about the international shipping but your hotel said they got it so—”

“Yes!” Atsumu exclaimed, screen blurry as he shuffled around his hotel room. He set his phone down and propped it up, showing them the neatly packaged box. “I can’t believe ya’ got me another signed copy of Sonia Barnes’s book—I couldn’t even get this one off preorder, it was so popular—”

“Did ya’ open the envelope yet?” Osamu asked impatiently.

“Of course I did! I always open the letter before the present, what do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined, but the duo noticed how Atusmu’s hands were off screen and they could hear quiet tearing noises in between pauses.

Rolling their eyes, they patiently waited for Atsumu to unsubtly open their envelope. They watched as Atsumu quickly scanned the contents of the letter and Osamu hit screen record as his brother’s mouth dropped open.

“T-tickets to a live reading and meet and greet?” Atsumu whispered to himself. He pulled the letter closer to his face and read it over and over again before gingerly setting the cardstock down and gently looking into the envelope to produce two ticket stubs. Carefully placing the tickets back into the envelope, Osamu failed to cover his snickers as Atsumu’s lower lip trembled.

“I know it’s no car,” she said, “but I do happen to know people who know people, so I hope you like your gift, ‘Tsumu” she said kindly.

Atsumu suddenly held the phone close to his face and Osamu could see his brother’s ears turn pink.

“Yer the best sister in law I coulda’ ever asked for, I don’t know why yer with that good fer nothin’ scrub—yer not married yet, so ya’ still have time to run away, but ‘Samu, ya’ better not mess it up,” he rambled, roughly wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Osamu scoffed and she placed a placating hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe I get ta’ meet ma’ angel,” Atsumu mumbled to himself in disbelief, pacing in his hotel room, running his hands through his hair. “Angel, angel, angel—I gotta bring ma’ copy of her books with ma’ notes! I have so many questions for her, like how she came up with the storyline—didya know she went to school in New York City? Isn’t that the coolest? And she made a video for me for ma’ birthday last year,” he broke his monologue to gasp. “Do ya’ think she’ll remember me—”

Osamu put him on mute and groaned.

“Maybe we shoulda jus’ gotten him those fancy mugs,” he complained, leaning heavily into her side.

She rubbed the sides of his neck as she watched with amusement as Atsumu continued his ramblings, completely unaware that she and Osamu were having a side conversation.

“But look how happy he is, Samu,” she crooned, giggling as Osamu pinched his nose bridge. But she knew that Osamu was the one who spent hours scouring the web for those tickets and sent several emails to Sonia Barnes’s manager for a signed copy.

Watching his brother run his mouth with no regard to himself or his girlfriend, Osamu clicked the unmute button and nearly yelled, “We get it ya’ scrub, we get it!”

“Let me be happy why dontcha!” Atsumu retorted.

“Alright well I’m gonna spend ma’ birthday with ma’ real girlfriend,” Osamu taunted, finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button.

“Once Sonia meets me she’s gonna fall in love, just ya’ wait!”

She yelled one last, “Happy Birthday!” before Osamu disconnected the call and tackled her into the bed.

For the end of his birthday, Osamu requested a car ride. It was just past sunset; the sky’s vibrant pinks and oranges faded into a cool indigo and the stars were extra bright in the rural area they were driving through.

They rode in comfortable silence, listening to seagulls call their good nights and the wind beating against the car. The supple leather of the seat underneath her contrasted with the rough pads of Osamu’s fingertips on her thigh and she stared out at the horizon, perpetually in awe of the beauty of the coast line. Here, twinkling city lights were hardly discernible specks in the distance and the only tall structures were the trees dotting the cliffside.

They rose higher in altitude until they were surrounded by lush forest—rustling underbush and singing cicadas took over the sound crashing waves. He pulled into a secluded nook that overlooked a cliff and she couldn’t believe they were only a forty minute drive from the main city.

He killed the engine and unbuckled her seat belt while she was still leaning forward, face close to the windshield, taking in the scenery.

“I’m feelin’ a bit neglected over here,” Osamu said, soft grin taking over his face as he watched her, lips parted and eyes wide.

“Sorry Samu,” she said, still looking out the glass, “it’s just so incredible here.”

“I told ya’ I knew a spot,” he teased and she intertwined her hand with his.

He pulled her arm towards him as leaned over the middle console so his lips caught her neck when she lurched towards him. Her surprised chuckle turned into a content hum, fluttering her eyes closed as he kissed the pulse point of her throat, her exposed shoulder, then where her neck met her clavicle. From there, he dragged his lips slowly to her ear and grinned when he felt her clutch at his sweater.

Nipping her ear and tracing the shell with his tongue, rough palms kneaded her thighs and his fingers played with the hem of her skirt. He let out a heavy breath when she brushed against his tightening pants and he smirked when she involuntarily shivered.

“Do ya’ like this?” he asked, mouth kissing down the expanse of her chest, pulling the hem of her shirt low.

She arched her back into him and guided his hand under her shirt and he grinned when she impatiently unhooked her bra and took it and her shirt off in one swift motion.

“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes half lidded, lips slick with spit and plump from his repeated ministrations, she had one leg folded under her and the other anchored to the floor. Fully facing him, she cocked her head to the side and dragged her eyes down his body, lingering for a moment before directing her heavy gaze at him. She leaned back against the door as he leaned forward on the middle console and she ran a hand slowly from her knee, teasing a peek under her skirt, tracing a finger around her navel, then making her way upwards, rolling a nipple with two fingers while slowly rocking her hips.

Osamu’s lips parted and his eyes flickered from her hands to her face as she brought her other hand to rub at the cotton beneath her legs. Gaze hungry, he licked his lips and rolled his neck, languidly leaning back against his door, mirroring her.

“Gonna give me a birthday show?” He rasped, slowly unbuttoning his pants and palming his length through his boxers.

Skirt bunched at the waist giving him an unhindered view of the growing wet stain between her legs and Osamu felt himself tighten at the sight. He wanted to press his nose against the ruined fabric and lap at her through her pink panties, he wanted to curl a finger in her and listen to her keel for him, he wanted to—

“Take your shirt off,” she demanded.

“I thought it was ma’ birthday,” he chuckled but does as she asks, pulling the fabric from the back of his neck. He tossed the garment to the backseat and lazily looked back at her.

The tops of her cheeks are flushed and her breasts shake with each pant. She’s worked two slender fingers from the side of her underwear and Osamu watches with rapt attention as her pretty folds are presented to him.

“Touch yourself, Samu.”

“Again with the demands,” he complained but freed himself from the confines of his boxers and matches the pace she’s set on herself.

“Fuck,” she whined, moving faster. The hand teasing her nipples moved south to pinch at her clit and Osamu couldn’t wait anymore.

He nearly launched himself to her, abdomen uncomfortably resting on top of the center console and she seemed all too satisfied with the result. He buried his face between her legs and groaned with her as he sucked and lapped at her overstimulated bundle of nerves through soaked cotton.

“Itadakimasu,” he growled and she rolled her eyes at the line.

Long languid licks interspersed with quick flicks of his tongue, he took her right to the edge of her orgasm. Her thighs clenched around his head while her nails dragged through his gray hair and she rocked her hips against his mouth. Toe curling heat had her buck helplessly against his tongue, rough hands gripping her in place as she reached her peak, but at the last second, he pulled away.

Her gasp was lost with the loud bang his head made as it slammed against the car ceiling and he let out a string of curses as he tried to fit in the passenger’s seat with her. She half stands, leaning back on the glove department as he sat down and she couldn’t help but giggle when he cursed at how slowly the seat was reclining back.

But just as quick, he grabbed her by the hands and has her straddle him. The seat is narrow but neither of them mind as he slowly entered her. She gripped at the back of his head as he teased a nipple and sucked constellations across her chest while her other hand gripped the grab handle, giving her more leverage.

Osamu slowly rocked into her and he captured her moans in a kiss. He gave her a second to adjust to his length before slamming into her, head falling back into the headrest as he watched her bounce above him.

Beautiful, was all he could think. Hair wild around her shoulders, a glistening sheen of perspiration across her forehead and chest, and the incredible sound of her slick around him. He was in heaven.

He slid his thumb between her parted lips and she immediately began to suck. She bobbed her head back and forth while giving kitten licks at the tip and nipping the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he pressed his finger further back in her throat and watched as her eyes rolled back and she rocked her hips even faster against his.

Removing his thumb and making a show of putting it in his mouth, he pressed the wet digit against her clit and grinned as her moans became louder.

The sweet call of his name as she begged him to make her finish led him to snap his hips up, rubbing against the spongy bit of her inner walls and he held her close to his chest as they came undone together.

Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and watched as a rivulet of sweat ran down the valley of her breasts and he shifted his hips forward, just now noticing the dull ache in his thighs. She shuddered against him and he kissed her shoulder, her cheek, then her other cheek.

“We really have to thank Tsumu for the car,” she said, chuckling.

“Yeah?” he questioned, running his blunt nails across her back, “should we tell him what we used it for?”

She scrunched her nose and Osamu’s heart clenched too. Wrapping her arms around his neck, soaking in the warmth of his warm body, her lips ghosted the side of his cheek and he shuddered at the tingles running down his back with the contact.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Samu,” she whispered sweetly.

Rocking into her again just to hear her breath tick, he nestled his head into her neck and smiled.

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu fluff #osamu smut #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #osamu scenarios #osamu fic #atsumu fanfic #atsumu fluff #miya twins #atsumu x oc #hq smut #haikyuu smut #deviled.egg #miya osamu #hq osamu

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song."

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention.

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard."

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night."

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked.

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking."

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band."

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right."

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid.

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!"

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!"

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation.

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover.

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?"

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me."

"What does it look like?" You asked.

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one."

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told."

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it."

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned?

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back.

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner.

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table.

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this."

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care."

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-"

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor.

"It was a gift." He finished anyway.

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head.

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much."

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered.

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering."

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me."

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.”

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage.

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help?

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition.

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly.

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack.

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile.

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you.

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?"

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy."

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music.

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush.

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone."

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans."

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?"

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side.

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

#doctor strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x you #what if #what if marvel #doctor strange supreme #tw guns #tw abusive parent

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Fnv Companions react to Fem Courier being trans girl (sorry feel abit of self projection today hahah)

Don't feel sorry for wanting to see yourself reflected in the world around you, we all want to know that we belong.

The Forecaster frowned, and his eyes moved rapidly from left to right as if scanning some hidden radar. "Your face does the thinking... two to the skull, yet one gets up," he said.

The courier who stood before the boy nodded and touched her fingers to her temple, almost reflexively. "That's me."

"Odds are against you," the Forecaster went on, squinting. "But they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You've changed suits once, clubs to diamonds, and now you're playing the hand you've been dealt."

At this, the courier stiffened suddenly. "Um..."

The Forecaster went on, unaware of his customer's discomfort. "But you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble... a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

"Um... thanks." The courier counted out the caps and handed them over to the boy, then beat a hasty retreat from beneath the overpass.

Once back atop Highway 95, she took her traveling companion aside. "Before you think I worked for some Mojave faction and deserted, that thing he said about changing suits... I didn't think he'd... what he meant was... I wasn't always..."

She sighed and ran a hand over her head. "Hell, it's about time I told you anyway. I'm trans."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stopped her before she could stumble into an over-explanation. "It's, uh, it's okay. I... may have already known."

"You..." The courier's eyes widened. "You did? But who told you?"

"I, um..." Arcade straightened his glasses and looked up at the sky, avoiding eye contact. "Oh boy. Doctor Usanagi..."

Immediately, the courier's eyes narrowed. "... doesn't betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was in one of her medical clinics that day you came in for the NEMEAN sub-dermal armor," Arcade finished hastily. "She, uh, asked me and a couple of the others to help her close you up."

"Oh." The courier relaxed her stance a bit. "Oh yeah, I remember. I mean, I don't remember you, but I do remember signing the form that said I was okay with med student assistance. Why didn't you say anything, when I first asked you to tag along?"

Arcade shrugged. "I don't betray doctor-patient confidentiality either. Usanagi hammers that into you pretty hard on day one. Besides, something like that doesn't matter much outside of a doctor's office."

Craig Boone: Boone shrugged. "Okay."

The courier's eyes darted around his countenance, looking for some kind of stronger reaction. "Nothing? Not even a 'congratulations' or a disapproving grimace? Who are you, Boone?"

"Unconcerned," he shot back testily. "Unless it affects your aim somehow, it's not a problem. If that's what you're asking."

The courier sighed. "No, it's... you're fine. I guess I'm still pretty defensive about it. Especially around NCR types."

Boone nodded. "There were a few officers that Manny and I operated under who weren't the open-minded sort. They didn't last long."

Lily Bowen: Lily looked positively stormy. "Did that young man just air your personal business for the whole trading post to hear without a care in the world?" she thundered, with all her grandmotherly might. "Let's go back, dearie, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

"Lily, no," the courier protested, grabbing the nightkin's arm before she could stomp off toward the overpass again. "He probably doesn't even know what he said, it's just part of his gift. And no one's going to put two and two together unless I tell them outright, like I did you."

"If you say so, pumpkin." Lily smiled and settled herself. "But I can always ask Leo for a little help if anyone has cross words for you about this."

The courier sighed and patted her companion's arm. "No need for that, Lily. That reminds me, you should take your medication today."

Lily wrapped her up in a hug. "You take such good care of Grandma, my sweet girl."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Mija." Raul smiled. "How long you been holding onto that for?"

The courier let out the breath she'd taken, and her shoulders sank back to a normal level. "Well not everyone takes news like that too well. I didn't know if you would... mind."

"Mind?" Raul shook his head. "Oye. I've lived a long time, out here in the desert. It's a lonely place, even if you're surrounded by a crowd on the Strip. You can lose yourself pretty easily, lose sight of what you want, what you are. I'd know better than most. If you held onto who you want to be, then that's a victory, in the Mojave."

"Um..." The courier's eyes were shiny with tears, but before Raul could comment or pull out a handkerchief, she'd enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thanks, viejo."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well, I'll be a gecko's uncle." Cass grinned. "You're serious? All this time on the road together, and you didn't think you could tell me that? I'm wounded, Six."

"Hey now, you were slow to trust me, too," the courier pointed out with a growing smirk. "I was gonna tell you after the Silver Rush situation, if we made it out alive, but then we did and you were riding so high at the Atomic Wrangler that I didn't want to dampen your memory of that day."

"Dampen my..." Cass chuckled and clapped the courier on the shoulder. "Better fix your metaphor there, Six. Rain in the desert is a good thing. And trust between friends would never dampen my day."

She held up a hand before the courier could protest. "I know, I know what you were worried about. Trust me, I'm not the type to froth at the mouth over propriety or 'family values.' Thought you'd've picked up on that, with my smart mouth and wanderin' eyes."

"Wandering..." The courier ducked out from under her arm and danced away, laughing. "Uh-uh. I helped you with your vendetta, now you help me with mine. Then we'll buy a drink at the Tops and talk, whiskey rose."

Veronica Santangelo: "You..." Veronica's eyes went as wide as the Mojave's full moon. "Oh. Oh."

Slowly, the Scribe sank into a sitting position on the cracked asphalt. "That explains a few things, I suppose."

The courier sat down next to her. "Like what?"

Veronica started ticking things off on her fingers. "Both that guy in Primm and the bartender in Goodsprings called you by a different name, but they were the same name and it sounded kind of like yours so I wrote it off as a coincidence. Benny didn't recognize you right away, even though he shot you in the head. And Arcade locked us all out of your room that time you took some shrapnel to the torso and were laid up in the Lucky 38 until you weren't covered in bandages."

"Oh yeah." The courier grinned. "Surprised you didn't piece it together sooner, then."

"I sometimes forget that's something people can do," Veronica admitted. "Remember when I said that some in the Brotherhood don't look too kindly on those who choose relationships that don't produce new children? Well, ditto and worse for those who want to transition. Most of the ones brave enough to do it anyway don't stay Brotherhood for long."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped in mock surprise, then whizzed around the courier three times playing triumphant music. She giggled and swatted the bot away playfully. "Go on then. I have no idea how you could've known, but there it is."

ED-E beeped quizzically once it came to a stop.

"Why hide it?" the courier responded. "Well, unlike robots, some people think it's strange to change your... parts. Or even just your classification. Honestly, it's old-world thinking, no clue."

The eyebot beeped long and low, almost like a coo of affection and reassurance.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side. The courier knelt down to his level and scratched his ears, inspecting his new brain and cybernetic limbs as she did.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she murmured, increasing her attentions as Rex leaned into her. "You probably already knew, with that amazing nose of yours. I think your owner knows, otherwise why keep spouting that line of his whenever I come around?"

Rex whined, and the courier smiled. "You know. 'Do what's right for you, so long as it don't hurt no one.' Got that seared into my brain as surely as that bullet, thanks to him. I bet that king he's worshipping never even said that."

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cinnaminsvga · 3 years

Text

intermission • vi | moonlight

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jungkook) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none!! it's just jungkook being a cutie!! → words: 3.7K → a/n: this intermission chapter was actually written by @jincherie!! i'm posting it on her behalf since she's currently on hiatus. she had this chapter mostly finished a few months ago and we were waiting to post it until we were both more active (lol) but yeah... things change i guess... anyway see you guys next year (i wanna say /j but really... is it really /j...)

— • masterlist | prev | intermission vi | next • —

Jungkook's strength has never been making friends.

In his mother’s words, a “pleasant and sweet boy” though he might be, that didn’t help much when it came to meeting someone new and the storm of butterflies in his stomach would grow so strong that it froze his limbs and caught his tongue. He’s not too good at first impressions.

A “pleasant and sweet, but terribly shy boy” is actually more along the lines of how Jungkook’s mother describes him, now that he thinks about it. That’s probably a little more accurate.

The sprawling complex he lives in is full of kids, and Jungkook knows each and every one of them. He might be challenged in the social area, but his mother is anything but. She says he takes more after his father, and since his father is usually relaxing inside and reading or drawing when Jungkook sees him at home, he figures that makes enough sense.

Every time someone new moves into the complex, Jungkook’s mother goes to greet them. Of course, he is graciously asked (read: forced) to come along too, just in case they have any kids around his age. This is how he normally meets the other kids on the block. It’s fine, he can’t complain. He has to admit it’s nice meeting all the new and different people that come through. His family is probably one of the ones that have stayed in the complex this long.

When the house next door is emptied of the family he knew, it’s a while before the next one comes in. By the time Jungkook peeks out his window one morning, woken by the telltale sound of a truck beeping as it reverses, and finally sees some movement in the house next to his own, his mother isn’t home. She’d moved into the hospital just a few days earlier, looking ready to pop with the little brother he’d heard so much about in her belly. He’s excited to meet his little brother, and now as he stands on his tippy-toes to get a good look from the window, he finds himself a little excited to meet the new neighbours, too.

It only has a little bit to do with the great, big, fluffy dog they have. Just a little.

It takes a few days for them to move in fully. Jungkook watches from his window every now and then, seeing all sorts of different cars come through. This family has lots of helpers, he notices. By the time they seem to really settle in, Jungkook doesn’t see much of them. Actually, to his disappointment, he doesn’t see anyone around at all. He still hears the dog, glimpses it every so often, but realised that they probably walk it in the mornings before he wakes up.

His mother is home before long, his baby brother cradled in her arms. The first thing she asks as she steps through the door is, “Have the new neighbours moved in? Have you met them yet, Kookie?”

This is perhaps the first time all week he hasn’t cared about the neighbours-- he’s transfixed with his brother. It stays that way for a few days, until the allure wears off when the tiny baby won’t stop crying at night. Perhaps his little brother is something best loved from afar for now, Jungkook surmises.

Back to the window he goes – except this time, there’s actually something to see.

There’s a child! A combination of nerves and excitement bubbles within him as he sees a kid in the backyard playing with the dog, throwing a Frisbee for the massive puppy to leap up and catch in its mouth. The kid looks a little…. feral. Like the baby from that one funny caveman movie he watched with his parents. They’re rolling around with the puppy, uncaring of the way grass and dirt get on their clothes and tangle their hair-- they laugh the whole time. It takes a second for the sound to reach him, but when it does it makes his heart do something funny in his chest.

Ah, the neighbour's kid is a girl.

It’s you.

Jungkook has always been a little more shy around girls, but has never known why. To meet you, he’s going to need his mother there for backup. This is probably the first time he’s outright wanted to go meet one of the neighbours. It’s a little embarrassing, so he elects not to think about it too much.

He thought he would have to pester his mother more to get up and go greet them, but it seems she’s a little sick of being in the house so much because she jumps up the second he mentions it. His baby brother is graciously asleep when they make the trip one morning to the house next door, nestled in his mothers arms looking like an angel wrapped up in fluffy clouds. Jungkook wonders if you’ll like his brother as much as he does. If you don’t, then he doesn’t know how good of a friend you’re going to be.

The doorbell is different, it’s the first thing he notices about the house. Your family must have changed it when you moved in. It’s a bubbly, fun tune now, and he doesn’t even realise the smile it brings to his face. His grip on his mother’s hand tightens, but he misses the fond look she casts over him.

When the door opens, Jungkook thinks his nerves just might eat him alive. He’s so stiff he’s worried he might turn to stone and disintegrate into dust on the spot.

It’s you who answered the door.

You don’t look as wild and unkempt as you did that day he saw you from the window. Actually, your hair is in two cute little buns on top of your head and there isn’t a spot of dirt or grime on your overalls.

The way your eyes light up when you see him and his mother, as well as the baby held to her chest, is enough to make him forget to breathe for a moment. When he remembers, he feels like running his head into the pole of the awning.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mother greets, that big smile on her face that normally wins everyone over. “We’re from the house next door! We wanted to come say hello and meet you. Are one of your parents home too?”

“Hello!” Your response is instant, and the smile you return is so big Jungkook can easily see the gap where you’re missing a tooth. It seems like you’re beating him, he hasn’t lost that one yet. “Yeah, my mama’s home-- you should come in! She said she wanted to meet you guys! Oh, also, we have a puppy! She’s big, and actually maybe she’s too old to be a puppy but… she’s cute. I want you to see her!”

You’re rambling, but you don’t seem to realise. Jungkook couldn’t get a word in edgewise if he wanted to, but he finds himself more than happy to simply listen as he and his mother follow you into the house.

Your mother isn’t as wild as you, but he notices the same little sparkle in her eyes that you have in yours. He wonders if he and his mother have their own matching sparkle. That would be cool.

Right away, his mother hits it off with yours – two socialites of a feather, it seems. You fawn over his baby brother for a few minutes while they talk (he knew right then that you were a good one), before grabbing him by the sleeve and insisting on showing him around. You get a full tour in, and miraculously Jungkook finds it in himself to ask a few questions as you go.

“S-so, you like it? Here?” Every time he opens his mouth the words don’t come out how he wants them, but he can’t do anything now. At least he only stuttered once.

“Yes! It’s so much better than my old house! There’s so many more kids here, and they’re all so nice too!” You’re more than happy to blabber on, a hand thoughtlessly carding through the long, fluffy fur on your dog’s back. Jungkook’s own hand is doing the same (the fur is just as soft and fluffy as he imagined). “There’s more room for Poopie to play, too.”

Jungkook still isn’t quite used to the name of your pet, but something more important in what you said is taking hold of his attention. “Wait, you, uh… you’ve met some of the other kids?”

“Yep,” you say, gaze off in the distance as you try to summon them all from your memory. “Not all of them, but some! Um, I think one of them is named…. Chanyeol…? He lives down the street. Then there’s-- …”

A queasy feeling fills his stomach. He thinks it might be disappointment. For some reason, he thought he was going to come in here and be the first kid you met, that he was going to tell you all about the complex, maybe show you down the street. If you turned out to be a real good egg, then he had even planned to show you his secret place. But now that he thinks about it, it’s a bit silly to think that none of the other families would have come to greet you by now. You’ve been here for more than a week, after all.

He had a good time when visiting you, but for some reason after that day, he finds himself hanging back a bit. He wants to go out and play with you and the other kids, but when he sees you getting along with them so well he’s reminded of that queasy feeling from that day and he stays inside. Which, oddly enough, makes him feel even worse. He feels like no matter what he does, he’s losing progress with you. Maybe you won’t even want to play with him at all, you might think he’s boring after having so much fun with the other kids.

“You gonna go out and play, Kookie?” his mother catches him staring out the living room window one afternoon. She’s bouncing his brother on her hip, the demon baby sated for the time being. “There’s still plenty of time before dark.”

“No, I’m okay,” he answers, hating himself a little bit for it. Why was it so hard to say that yes, he wanted to play, but also that he didn’t. He thinks his mother would be able to help, but he has no idea how to tell her his woes. “I think I might draw a little.”

“Okay, sweets.” She comes over and ruffles his hair. “But if you do decide to go out and play, just let me know so I know where you are, okay?”

He nods, and she leans to kiss his hair before wandering back into the depths of the house. Maybe he will do some drawing, he ponders. It might distract him from the sight of you getting along so well with all the other kids.

Jungkook’s strength has never lain in being outgoing. This proves itself over the months when his attempts to grow closer and befriend you turn out unsuccessful, without fail.

You’ve made a good space for yourself amongst the kids of the block. You’re nice, caring and understanding, and never mean – sure you pushed Chanyeol off the seesaw once, but that was because he was being mean to Suzie. He didn’t do it again afterwards, and peace was maintained in the playground in the park at the end of the complex. Your friendship is sought-after, and with the beginning of the school year looming so close he’s running out of time to establish a friendship between the two of you.

When he spends an afternoon riding his bike at the end of the street, looping around and through the park, it’s definitely not just because you’re sitting there with some of the other girls on the block. When he summons all the knowledge stored in his brain from watching those bike tournaments and attempts to do a little trick, it’s definitely not because he thinks you might be watching. If you happen to see and think he’s cool, then it is what it is. It’s not like he’s actually trying to impress you or anything.

It goes okay, for the most part. His legs are a little tired though. He probably shouldn't attempt the trick he’s thinking of next, but he swears he sees you glance his way and he feels a surge of confidence flow through him. He attempts it.

He botches it.

The bike clatters to the ground and he rolls a bit, but his knees take the brunt of his meeting with the concrete path.

Lucky he wasn’t trying to impress you, because that was pretty humiliating. Lucky you probably didn’t see, either. His knees burn and he feels tears prick at his eyes, probably not just from the pain. He feels so embarrassed, so dumb. He’s touched his bike five times since he got it for his birthday last year, why did he think he would be able to do awesome tricks on it? Dumb, so dumb. He flees the scene before anyone can notice what happened, and completely forgets his bike.

He’s made it all the way home before he even realises it, his vision blurred from the tears that just won’t stop falling and his knees still singing in pain each time he bends them. He almost goes inside, craving a hug from his mother and her gentle hands on his wounds, but then he realises she would ask what happened, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to tell her. It’s too embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed.

So he bypasses the front door, going around the side and slipping through the gate. There’s a tree that lines the side of the house where his window is, and it’s so tall it reaches well above the roof. Without pause, he climbs it, hands finding familiar grooves. He halts, hissing at the sudden sting – it would seem he’s scraped up his palms, too. His eyes burn with the added humiliation and he darts up the tree, making quick work of the climb until he reaches his special spot.

The roof of his house is mostly slanted, but there’s a flat bit at the very top on one side of the house. This is where he likes to go. No one ever looks for him here, plus the view is always very pretty. He doesn’t appreciate the sunset right now, though. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

The whole way home, Jungkook held in his cries. He didn’t want anyone to hear and tell his mother. But now, in the embrace of his little ‘safe haven’, he lets them out. He buries his head in his arms and sobs, the pain of moving his palms only making it worse.

He doesn’t know how his little body can handle so much embarrassment, let alone so many tears, but for the moment he doesn’t think about it and surrenders himself to his woes.

He must be up there for a while before his crying ceases. By the time he lifts his head, the last of his tears drying against his cheeks, the sun is just beginning to disappear beyond the horizon. It’s pretty, how it casts light around the shadowy silhouette of the city buildings in the distance. He kind of wants to show it to you. That thought is quickly shut down. He’s going to ask his mother if they can move cities so he doesn’t have to face you again.

Alas, the world just doesn’t seem to be working in his favour today. He hears the rustling of the tree before he sees it. By the time he looks over to investigate, you’re already clambering onto the roof, an oversized fanny pack bursting at the seams with whatever you’ve shoved inside slung over your shoulder.

“Hey!” You greet with a smile, apparently oblivious to the dumbstruck look on his face. “Man, it took forever to find you! If I didn’t see you from the window in my room, I never would have known where you went!”

That was the idea, he laments. He hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Anyway,” you say, plopping down a foot away from him, safely away from the edge of the roof. You swing the fanny pack around so the zip is at your front, and rip it open. Immediately, a tsunami of bandages and band-aids flow forth, fluttering to the tile before you. They’re all sorts of different sizes, but one thing is common across them all – they all have pikachu’s face plastered on them in one way or another. “These are my special band-aids! My mama uses them when I hurt myself, and they always make it heal really quick! I didn’t know how big your owie is, so I brought them all.”

Jungkook is still stunned into silence as you sort through them, organising the chaos at least a little. One of your buns has come loose, he notes. One pigtail, one bun. You look a little more like that wild child he first saw from his window. The knees of your overalls are smeared with dirt, too. He wonders if it got like that while you were looking for him. It makes him feel a little warm inside.

And a little warm outside – his cheeks are starting to burn. He doesn’t remember scratching them too, but maybe he did…?

“Let’s see…” you’re practically just holding a conversation with yourself at this point. He surrenders his leg without protest as you grab it to inspect his knee. “Yep. That’s a big ‘un.”

His whole face has lit on fire. Even his ears feel hot. Is that normal? Probably not. He’d have to ask his mother to take him to the doctor. Maybe he’s dying.

He notices how close you are suddenly, realises this is the first time you’ve been fully alone together (without Poopie), and suddenly he can’t think. Like, at all. He may as well not have a tongue because he can’t remember how to use it anyway.

Somewhere amongst the bandages you’d shoved some tissues. You pull them out now, gently clearing the dirt away from the wounds on his knees. You’re talking as you do it, but his brain is full of static. Your hands are even tinier than his. Is that normal? Wait, no-- they’re the same size. What is he doing…?

Is he going to get in trouble for being alone with a girl…? His mother hasn’t told him about the birds and bees like she said she would yet-- is that what this is? Will he turn into a bird if he gets any warmer? Jungkook doesn’t want to be a bird.

You are placing large plasters over his knees when he finally tunes in to what you’re saying. “… -that last trick was pretty cool, too. It would have been even cooler if you didn’t fall.”

Jungkook squeaks, “You saw that?”

You nod, apparently unaware of his utter humiliation. “Yeah! You’re pretty good on a bike. Can you teach me sometime? I want to show my dad.”

He makes a noise that sounds enough like an affirmation that you accept it, a big grin on your face. For a few more minutes, you finish patching him up.

“There! All done!”

Pikachu stares back up at him from his knees, looking a little wonky because of their shape. The band-aids are a bit wrinkled, but you look so proud of yourself he forces himself to ignore it. He looks up, the words of thanks he took so much courage to summon dying on the tip of his tongue as he sees you.

The setting sun changes the colour of your eyes a bit – it’s pretty, he finds himself thinking. Immediately afterwards, he blushes. Even more embarrassingly, he finds himself unable to help but observe that the sun suits you, actually. Bright, persistent, a little bit sparkly. In the sun’s last reaching rays of afternoon light, you look a bit like you’re glowing.

Of course, Jungkook is used to his silence, but it seems you’re only just noticing it. You seem to misunderstand it’s cause. “Oh, do they hurt?”

Your words tear him from his reverie, and the startled look on his face doesn’t exactly help his case. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realise they were that bad-- oh! I almost forgot the next step! My mum always does this whenever I hurt myself.”

Then, without a second spared for him to prepare himself, you lean over and plant a kiss on each of his bandaged knees.

Jungkook thinks he might explode. The entire neighbourhood is going to see him take off and zip through the sky like a rocket. His earlier thoughts of moving cities and changing his name come back full force.

“There, they hurt less now, right?” But you’re still grinning, still bright as ever with shining eyes hoping for a certain response. Despite himself he takes a moment to assess the level of pain he’s feeling – oddly enough, it does feel a bit better.

There’s no way he can manage to say that, though.

Instead he nods, wide-eyed. You let loose a sigh of relief, muttering about how you didn’t know what you’d do if that didn’t work. He swears he catches the slightest warmth in your cheeks, but doesn’t know whether it’s a trick of the sun.

“Thanks,” he finally manages, his voice just shy of a whisper. You hear him anyway and flash that gap-tooth smile his way.

“Of course! This is what friends are for!”

You think of him as a friend? Jungkook can’t help the dumb smile that rises to his face. He likes that. Friends. As the two of you stay on the roof until moonlight begins to filter through the tree and your parents are calling your name, he thinks he’d like for things to stay that way.

He’d like to be friends with you. Always.

#btsghostie #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfiction #bts reader insert #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #i dont even remember how to tag HAJDHASJ i havent posted a fic in so LONG #anyway yall thought fox rain was dead but i guess she lives for one day... next chapter is gonna kill me tho but im excited!!#see you sooner than later i hope lmao

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wheninitalyy · 4 years

Text

France is no escape - part 2.

A/N - Here’s part two!! Wooo!

I’m working mainly on working for readers to feel close with their character and their thoughts, I’m more comfortable writing about conflicts and getting to know characters on personal levels. Sorry if this is a bit rushed toward the end, I had been thinking about writing part two to this ever since I wrote part one, but- uh yeah thank you for reading!

Click here for Part One :]

Pairing : Benny Watts x Reader

Word count : 2749

Warnings : drinking, smoking, (some fluff this time though :] )

- - - - - - - - - - - -

I threw the blanket that covered me to the side, “And I said- Well, buy me a drink first!” the show’s laugh track played.

“Stupid,” I mumbled as I switched the television off, I peeled my eyes off the television for the first time in a couple hours. I thought being a photographer would make me busy, but it seems impossible to get any good shots when everyone important is hiding away in their rooms.

I left my room earlier to look around, I took a few shots of the hotel and some of the chess tables for inside of the magazine but there wasn’t enough to keep me out and about for longer than an hour.

I needed a drink, something to help me relax or take my mind off the pressure of having absolutely nothing for the magazine. I haven’t even met up with my co-worker who was writing an article for this event, I called the magazine author before I came here but weirdly I haven’t seen them all day.

I threw myself off the couch not wasting anymore time, dusted myself off, making sure I looked somewhat presentable in case I ran into anyone.

I centered my watch on my wrist as I read the time, 5:47 pm.

I had a couple hours to get a drink before the bar filled up with men throwing their money out the window when they lose a 5th game of speed-chess.

I tripped over air as I closed my door behind me, pulling the heel of my shoe on.

I turned a corner and got into an elevator just as a couple exited it, they looked like any other couple whose trip was likely crashed by a bunch of chess players this weekend.

I let out a little ‘whew’ sound as I spotted the bar, get in and get out, no small talk tonight or so I thought.

“One cocktail please,” I told the bartender behind the bar, he nodded and started making my drink immediately.

I pulled off my coat, laying it down on my lap.

It was a nice bar, nothing like the ones back at home I used to go to.

Strings of lights under the tables, lighting up the ground. About four silk covered chairs sat at every table in the restaurant. A few couples or families having dinner and, in the corners, sat some men and their chessboards.

I missed playing chess at dinner, upsetting the waiters as we decided to throw their perfectly set out plates and silverware to the side so we could order our drinks and question every play and move in our games.

I hadn’t been able to have moments like that in a long time. Sure, I get to dance around carefree and smoke in my apartment alone acting as if I owned the world, but eventually you get tired of living that life.

I wanted to live my old life.

I can’t tell you what I would give for one piece of normal in this place, my normal.

“Here you are,” the bartender placed my drink on the bar table in front of me, placing a napkin under the drink to catch the condensation.

I gave him a smile as I caught myself wishing my life different, I need to stop doing that. I’m content and happy here, just lonely.

I put the cup to my lips, wanting to pull back at the simple taste of the sugar around the rim of the frosted glass.

One sip turned into a couple and soon I was done with the whole drink. If I’m being honest- I couldn’t drink another, too sweet. Maybe a beer or something, just one before I go back up to my room.

I turned around to look out on the grand room full of elegant looking lights strung from the ceiling, there was a large window with a glass double door to the right of the room. On the other side of the glass was a simple patio, metal chairs and tables with umbrellas. I could see the end of the sunset from where I sat, a little clearing between the buildings where the sun dropped into the road, I’d like to walk around out there when its light.

Over the time I was sat at the bar, the restaurant filled. Chess players at each table trying to balance their food with their perfectly placed chess pieces and trying not to disrupt the games as they ate.

It was strange but I enjoyed watching them interact and curse when they realized they had lost, its possible that my fascination with watching people play chess is why I got into photography for chess. Catching shots of people deep in thought, not posed, just some strangers playing chess- it’s the best.

I wish I had brought my camera down here.

“Ahem,” a man cleared his throat behind me, I swirled my chair around to him,

“Matt?!” I was shocked to see someone like Matt here of all places, he smiled and pulled me out of my chair and in for a hug before I could protest.

“Hey, my favorite photographer,” he greeted me as he pulled me up off the ground just a bit,

Matt was an older friend, back in high school kind of older friend. I hadn’t seen him in years, longer than most of my friends back in America.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned him as I pulled back, keeping my hands tight on his upper arms,

“I came with Benny believe it or not, I wouldn’t have gotten into some big tournament like this without him,” he laughed as he ruffled my hair, him being taller than me by only a couple inches. “Benny told me he saw you here this morning. I had a feeling you would be down here around this time,” he looked out at the tables.

I smiled at him and exhaled as I looked up at the ceiling, thank you Benny.

“God... I’ve missed you Matt,” I pulled him in for a hug again ignoring all worries about being on the job, because surely I wasn’t on the job at 7 pm.

“Jeez, a little homesick, are we?” he asked me as he patted my back and let out a short laugh.

Matt pulled me off him and sat down at the bar beside me, “What’re you drinking? A beer?” he grabbed my drink and looked at the label.

He got the bartender’s attention easily, “I’ll have what they’re having,” he gave the man a smile.

He turned to me and snickered at my tendency to get lost in my thoughts. He tapped my shoulder to get my attention, “So- what’s new?”

“You know, you got to talk to him. He’s probably up in his room sulking right now,” Matt joked,

I nudged him with my shoulder and let out a huff, “I will, just not tonight,” I told him as I finished my beer.

“Who’s sulking up in their room?” a voice came from behind us; I knew that voice.

I looked over my shoulder to see Benny wearing his Benny Watts smile with the same clothes from earlier today, without the hat this time and his coat hung over his arm.

Nice timing Benny.

“There he is!” Matt greeted him,

Benny flashed me a smile and then gave Matt a hug, I turned back to the bar to gather myself. I heard the Matt insult Benny’s hair and it started a pointless quarrel within the minute, I snorted and ran a hand through my hair.

They had small talk that sounded more like Matt parenting Benny, asking where he was, who he was with and such.

Matt flagged down the bartender for another drink and I picked up my beer and looked through the glass deciding if I was going to have another, but my thoughts were interrupted as Benny threw his arms over my shoulders. He loosely put his hands in each other, a poor excuse for a hug but I wasn’t complaining.

“Hey,” he greeted me leaning his head in near my ear, I felt my body tense up as he spoke so close to my ear.

“Hi Benny,” I said softly putting down the bottle,

“No more Mr. Watts?” he laughed,

“No- that was,” I paused as I laughed shallowly at my stuttering, “No, you’re Benny,” I told him as I looked down at my hands on the table.

I already knew he had his ‘I won’ smile spread across his face.

“And you’re Y/N,” he said softly, his way of forgiving me in a way.

I smiled and put my hand on his, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently.

He had come over here and treated me as if we were friends again, he gave me that feeling I had been craving- feeling normal.

I missed any affectionate he gave me, it was rare in public that he gave more than handshakes and short hugs, but right now I held his hand in mine and I couldn’t be more content with this moment that I had to stop myself from smiling to the point where my cheeks hurt.

I missed Matt and Benny, and even Benny’s friends who would come over on late nights to play speed-chess for me to lose to them, then them losing to Benny. All I had for months on end was work, and days to waste away. I had no one to spend my days with and when I did, the memories lingered for hours divided between days.

This felt right.

Being here with a man I could compare to a puppy and another who used to be my best friend is the most right my life has felt for a while.

I flinched as Matt raised his voice suddenly.

“Alright! Let’s play some chess!” Matt got out of his chair and put a hand on each of our shoulders, we both looked to him.

“The alcohol is kicking in,” I whispered, Benny heard me and lightly nudged me as he smiled.

I smiled and shook my head, this felt right.

“Let’s!” Benny entertained Matt’s excitement, he pulled his arms back and spun me around to let me off the stool.

Matt nearly pull me out of my seat as he tugged us over to one of the only empty dinner tables, it hadn’t even been cleaned yet but clearly, we didn’t care.

I laughed at his eagerness, but I wouldn’t ask him to stop, this was the thing I had been begging for. The thing I was sitting here at the bar alone daydreaming about was happening, its like they heard my thoughts.

Chess had become an important part of my life at an early age, and even more important when I met some chess players during high school. Chess was the go-to to cheer everyone around me up, yet it was also what made so many people around me fall apart or go mad.

I got into photography senior year and couldn’t let go of a camera until, well- never. The world was beautiful when you looked past all the flaws and ruins, even then it was still beautiful with them.

Photography only became who I wanted to be when I met Benny, Benny showed me what it was like to have more than one road to capture memories on. Benny showed me what it was like to take pictures without a camera- to play memories in my head whenever I wanted to.

Benny never forgot anything, so when I met him, I decided I wasn’t going to either.

“Wait- just one more round!” Matt begged trying to redeem himself,

“No, its getting late. You know I have a real tournament to win tomorrow, right?” Benny sighed and kicked him chair back as he stood up,

“Wow, fine,” Matt mumbled a couple swears and turned to another man who was sitting at our table, he didn’t let the man get in a word before he set up the chessboard in front of him.

I snorted and looked up at Benny next to me, “Walk with me?” he asked offering a hand to me. I hesitated at first but grabbed him hand as I stood up, pushing my chair back into the table.

After I said my goodbyes to Matt and made him promise he wouldn’t drink anymore, I followed Benny out to the patio.

A rush of cold air hit me as Benny opened the door in front of us, he held the door open as I walked outside into the cold city-life. You could hear distant chatter on the streets and horns honking every couple seconds.

“Maybe I should move to France too, seems nice,” Benny said quietly, he lit his cigarette. I looked over at him lean against the building wall, “Want one?” he offered me a cigarette as I leaned on the wall next to him.

I looked at the small pack he offered to me, I put the backs of my fingers against my lips for a moment as I tried to resist the urge. I wasn’t a huge fan of cigarettes. Sure, one is nice sometimes, but they just make me feel... bad.

I pulled my hand away from my face and gently grabbed the cigarette out from in-between Benny’s lips, I took a smoke.

“Or steal mine,” he smiled as he reached for another,

“Don’t,” I coughed as I blew out the smoke, handing the cigarette back.

We stayed there awhile, silently listening to the city thrive outside, watching the lights in buildings flick on and off.

“I’m sorry I left,” I whispered just loud enough for Benny to hear,

It had been on my mind all night tonight; I shouldn’t have left him, I needed to leave but I didn’t mean to leave him in the process.

“After my mother passed, I needed to be somewhere new. I needed something new,” I said looking down at my feet,

“Ouch,” Benny laughed shallowly,

“No, not you. You were- are my best friend, you were the best thing in my life, Benny. I didn’t want to leave you nor did I want to ask you to run away to France with me,” I explained, I looked over at him. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as his other fell beside him holding his cigarette in-between his long fingers.

He didn’t respond or say anything for a couple minutes, and why would he? Those were poor excuses for skipping the country.

“I miss you,” he said softly taking another smoke, he threw his cigarette on the ground and put it out under his boot. “It wasn’t fair,” he turned to me.

“I know,” I whispered.

It almost felt like everything went quiet as I waited for him to say something else, anything else.

I wanted some clue on how to go back to not being viewed as someone who ran away from their life scared, I wanted a hint on how I could make him look at me like I didn’t break his heart.

“Y/N,” he pushed himself away from the wall, I looked over at him. “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said as he already had started walking.

I walked beside him down the hallway to my room, I hadn’t said anything more than directions on our way here. I was scared to say something, but I had to eventually.

We got to my room, I unlocked my door and turned around as I pushed open my door with my back.

Benny stopped and stared at me; I wish I could know what he was thinking. I wish I could hear his thoughts. He smiled as he looked up at the ceiling, clearly talking himself out of doing something, I do that all the time.

I pulled his arm toward me till I could grab his coat and pull him into a hug, “This is what I meant to do this morning,” I told him. I rested my chin on his shoulder waiting for him to hug me back, he wrapped him arms around me tightly.

“Yeah, it is,”

I shut my door and put my back against it, I slid down until I hit the floor.

I sighed wrapping my arms around my legs, my legs pressed against my chest and I almost sunk into the floor.

Shit.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Part Three !

#benny watts #benny watts imagines #benny watts x reader #the queens gambit #the queens gambit imagines #imagines #thomas brodie-sangster #thomas brodie-sangster imagines

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