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hoseokhasmyheartxx · 1 year

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Nothing's Changed | MYG

*Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader *Word Count: 7.4k I'M SORRY 😳 *Genre: friends to lovers, "only one bed" trope, some angst, fluff, non-idol au, fake dating (ish) au *Warnings: NSFW SMUT, MINORS DNI. alcohol consumption, brief mention of parent death, piv sex, unprotected sex (be smart, you perverts), oral (f receiving), nipple play, a bit of overstimulation if you squint, Yoongi has dirty thoughts frequently, reader has to be convinced kinda, i dunno what else to say except good luck reading this nonsense *Summary: You and Yoongi have been best friends since college. The rest of your friend group wants to go on a couples' trip, leaving you and Yoongi to share a room. But to your surprise, your room only has one bed... will the two of you be able to get through the week without letting the other know how you feel? *A/N: welp, i'm sorry in advance for how long this "drabble" turned out to be. after Yoongi's live yesterday i had way too much motivation and it was just total word vomit inspiration. happy birthday to our gorgeous cat boy! 🐱

Main Masterlist

Eight years ago, you were spending most nights in the study area of your university’s library. The building was empty aside from the few other students scattered around the area, seemingly studying for finals just as you were. You had been sitting at a table at the edge of the room for the last three hours, papers strewn everywhere and your calculus book laid open on the table, head in your hands, feeling entirely defeated. Working the same problem for the last thirty minutes still hadn’t changed your answer, and it was still wrong. You sighed, about to give up for the night, when you heard the sound of a chair scrape against the carpet to your left. Looking up, you saw a familiar face, one you hadn’t spoken to before, but familiar all the same.

Min Yoongi. He was taking the same calculus class as you, and from what you assumed based on the posted class averages over the last few months, he was the one who had been basically floating the entire class thus far. You (and the rest of your class) had barely managed to earn passing grades on every exam you’d taken so far, except for Yoongi. He, on the other hand, had aced everything. You didn’t think there had been one exam that he’d scored less than a 95 on, and it frustrated you. How could calculus come so easy to him, when the rest of you were barely treading water?

“You look desperate. Need some help?” Yoongi asked as he sat in the chair next to you. He looked over at you expectantly, resting his elbows on the table, the thumb and index finger of one hand holding up his chin.

“Actually, yes. I am so lost. There’s no way I’m gonna pass this class,” you responded, sighing. He turned your textbook to face him, scanning the page to see what you were working on. He laughed softly to himself, pushing his hair behind his ear before he looked back up at you.

“Okay, no problem. I’m done studying for this class already. We still have two days until our final, right? I got you,” he said confidently, his gummy smile peeking at you. He reached for your notebook, eyes skimming the pages in front of him. A minute later, he tapped the page. “I see the problem.”

Yoongi spent the next two hours tirelessly explaining everywhere (yes, multiple spots) you had gone wrong. Things were slowly starting to click, the gears in your head finally spinning in the right direction. Occasionally, they still got stuck, but he was doing a really good job of helping you to unstick them.

“We should call it a night. If you study too hard, you won’t remember anything we just did. Meet me tomorrow night at six at the dining hall if you want more help,” Yoongi said as he stood, packing his things back into his backpack.

“The dining hall? That’s a really loud place to study,” you responded, a look of utter confusion painting your face.

“We’re not gonna study at the dining hall, dummy. We are, however, gonna have dinner before we come back to the library. You’re buying,” he said with a laugh as he turned and walked away.

The next night, after a quick dinner that was less awkward than you’d expected, you and Yoongi spent another three hours at the library, heads buried deep in your calculus textbook once again. At the end of your study session, you finally felt confident enough to take your final exam the following morning. And it was all thanks to Min Yoongi.

Your friendship blossomed after those late night study sessions. Although you didn’t have classes together anymore when your calculus class ended, you still managed to spend at least a few nights every week together. Sometimes you sat in his living room watching trashy reality tv (which he hated), other times you would cook together (which, let’s be real, more often than not led to Yoongi getting frustrated with your lack of cooking ability and finishing it himself while you watched). He had even dragged you to a few basketball games, much to your dismay since you didn’t particularly like sports. But you loved spending time with him, and seeing him get excited when his team was winning was worth the potential boredom for you.

The two of you basically grew up together. You had met when you were only twenty-two, about to graduate college, and now you were both pushing thirty. You both had fairly successful careers in your chosen fields (music production for him, finance for you), and you had been through more than your fair share of struggles together. You were the one who was there for him when his long term relationship fell apart, and he was the one who talked you off the ledge when you lost your mother almost immediately after. Being roommates with Yoongi made these hardships easier. Neither of you were alone when you were at your worst, you always had someone to turn to when you needed a distraction or a shoulder to cry on. After eight years of friendship, and four years of living together, you were certain that the two of you were platonic soulmates.

The friend group you’d collected over the years had slowly become your family. Yoongi brought two of his childhood friends, Hobi and Jimin, along with his coworkers Namjoon and Taehyung, into your circle, and you’d accepted them all like they were your long-lost brothers. Three of them eventually married, growing your friend group even more because you had built-in female friends in their wives. Your best friend since birth, Seo-Jun, loved Yoongi just the same as you did. But, she loved Taehyung even more. You weren’t even the slightest bit surprised when they got together. This left you and Yoongi as the only ones left in your group who hadn’t married yet. But, at only thirty, neither of you cared too much about that. You were still enjoying your youth. Things were just easier when you weren’t tied down, having to worry about another person when making all your decisions. You could just be.

Both your and Yoongi’s lack of a romantic partner is what made you being roommates so simple. Unfortunately, this had been the downfall of his last relationship. The woman he was so sure about, but whom he wasn’t quite ready to marry, refused to accept that you were his best friend. She slowly worked her way into every part of his life, only to give him an ultimatum of moving out of your shared apartment and into hers and ending your friendship, or losing her altogether. Yoongi came to you for advice, but you couldn’t tell him what to do. You just wanted him to be happy, even if that meant losing him. You told him just that, even though it pained you to do so. He left that conversation and came back that evening, brokenhearted over the loss of who he thought was meant for him. You, on the other hand, had never had a long term relationship. You had dated people, certainly, but none had ever panned out for one reason or another. Most of the time it ended because of (so-called) unrealistic expectations on your end, or an obvious fear of being with a powerful woman on their end. Men didn’t appreciate the hard work you put into your career in finance, and were threatened by your independence and hard-charging nature. Ultimately, the two of you had made peace with the fact that maybe you were just meant to do life on your own, supporting and loving each other the way only best friends could. Your lack of romantic partners is also why the thing your friend group proposed one afternoon was comically shocking.

“A… couples’ trip,” Yoongi repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked over at you, noticing the way your entire body was shaking as you tried to control your laughter.

“Listen. We know the two of you don’t have partners. But the rest of us really want to go on this trip together, and the resort will give us a group rate if we book five rooms!” Taehyung explained.

“It’s a really good discount. You guys already share an apartment. Why can’t you share a room for a week?” Seo-Jun asked, blinking up at you sweetly, trying her hardest to get her way. That tactic worked on Taehyung, but you weren’t sure why she expected it to work on you.

“It’s at a couples’ resort. It specifically says ‘couples only.’ We’d be found out so fast. No way could Yoon and I pass as a couple,” you told her, still laughing as you scrolled through the website Seo-Jun had sent to you.

“Please, just think about it! It’ll be fun. You guys don’t have to spend the entire week together. All you have to do is just share the room,” Namjoon’s wife, Ji-Ho, chimed in.

It was obvious that all of your friends really wanted you to agree to this bizarre plan. You could use a vacation, but the thought of having to pretend to be in a relationship with Min Yoongi? That would never work. What happened next shocked you even more than the original proposal.

“I’m down for it. As long as the room has two beds, because there’s no way I’m sharing a bed with her,” Yoongi finally said. Looking over at you, he added, “I’ve seen you starfished on your own bed too many times. No thank you.”

You feigned offense, placing your hand over your chest with a fake gasp on your face. He laughed, eyes scrunching closed in signature Yoongi fashion, shoving your shoulder playfully. You sighed, knowing you had to say yes now.

“Okay, fine. We’re in,” you answered. Your answer was immediately met with squeals of excitement from the girls, a hug from Seo-Jun, and excited high fives amongst the guys. Amidst the chaos, you glanced over at Yoongi, seeing a small smile on his face that told you he was grateful for you having said yes to this insane plan.

Later that night, you were lying in bed after finishing your bedtime routine, ready to sleep, when intrusive thoughts began racing through your head. What would this “fake relationship” scenario look like? Would it be as simple as just holding Yoongi’s hand whenever you were in common areas of the resort so that staff wouldn’t catch on to your lie? What if there were couples’ activities that your friends were participating in; would you have to do those as well? The resort looked especially romantic, from what you’d seen on the website, and it made you wonder: could you do romance with Min Yoongi? What if you wanted to do romance with Min Yoongi?

You shook those thoughts off immediately, unwilling to consider anything other than what you already knew: Yoongi was nothing more than your best friend, and he would stay that way forever. You fell asleep shortly after, unbothered by your strange train of thought, reducing it to being caused by your incessant need to plan everything down to the minute, and the fact that you weren’t in control of this vacation.

At the other end of the hall, the same train of thought barged into Yoongi’s head, as if you had transferred your thoughts directly to him. However, his replies to himself were slightly different. He knew exactly how to survive this “couples’ week” with you. But one thing worried him more than anything else. What if he played up this fake romance too much and exposed himself? Would your friendship ever recover if his feelings for you came out? The anxiety kept him up most of the night, tossing and turning, wondering if this vacation was a good idea after all.

—

Two months later, your group of ten was scattered across a plane, sitting in pairs, heading to Mexico for your much anticipated vacation. The flight was short, only three hours, and you had had a particularly exhausting week at the office, so you planned to catch up on some sleep so you could arrive refreshed and ready to make the most of your week away. You were seated with Yoongi, of course, and before you knew it, you were nodding off, eyes closing slowly as you fell asleep, head resting against the window of the airplane.

Yoongi’s breath caught in his chest as your head fell onto his shoulder. You were clearly in a deep sleep; he didn’t mind you resting there. Plus, in eight years of friendship, it’s not like the two of you hadn’t fallen asleep together a few times before. But every time it happened, his body reacted the same way. Hitched breathing, tensed muscles, fluttering heart rate. Somehow, you had never noticed, and he was thankful for that. He couldn’t stomach the thought of scaring you away if you ever found out.

The flight went smoothly, and just as soon as you had fallen asleep, you were being shaken awake by your best friend. “Hey. We’re here, get up!” he exclaimed.

You blinked a few times, trying to wake yourself up. The plane was already half empty, passengers trickling down the aisle with their belongings. You moved to grab your bag from under your seat, but Yoongi had the same idea. The side of your head smacked against his forehead, eliciting a loud groan from him.

“Seriously? We just got here and you’re already being mean to me. We’ll definitely pass for a couple,” he remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing full well that he was just teasing you. You grabbed your bag with a huff of remorse, smiling at him after that.

Bags finally obtained, you left your seats and exited the airplane, joining your group at baggage claim. Three of the couples already had their suitcases, but the luggage was still coming out, so it wouldn’t be long until the rest of you were able to retrieve your own bags. Once your bags arrived, your group headed toward the arrivals hall, searching for the driver who would be waiting for you.

The resort you were staying at prided itself on “all-inclusive service from arrival to departure,” which meant that you were picked up from the airport upon arrival, driven to the resort, where you would be bathed in luxury for the entirety of your stay, and then driven back to the airport on the day of your departure. This ensured that none of you would have to lift a finger the whole week. Everything was included in your booking, from food and drinks (even most alcohol), to daily scheduled activities and even off-resort trips. At check-in, each “couple” (said lightly, since you and Yoongi weren’t really a couple) received their room keys and a printout of the week’s events. The rest of your group went first, leaving you and Yoongi to check in last.

“And finally, Mr. and Mrs. Min. Here are your keys and this week’s schedule. We hope you enjoy your stay with us, and please don’t hesitate to come to us for anything you may need this week,” the receptionist said warmly.

Yoongi looked over at you standing next to him, gauging how well you were playing your part. You smiled at him, a small glint of affection in your eyes. He smiled back at you, glad that the receptionist’s belief that you were married didn’t seem to bother you. There was nothing else he needed in this world if it meant you’d smile at him that way every day.

Once the check-in process was finished, you and your friends gathered together, comparing room locations. The resort had informed you when you first booked your trip that even though you’d booked your rooms with a group rate, that didn’t guarantee you’d all be staying near each other. This turned out to be true; all of your rooms were spread out across the resort, except for the rooms assigned to Namjoon and Taehyung and their wives. The four of them had rooms directly across from each other.

“Alright everyone. Let’s go get settled in and check everything out. We can meet back up for dinner, say around seven?” Jimin asked. Everyone agreed and the group parted ways, leaving you and Yoongi alone to find your room on the small map given to you by the front desk.

Your room wasn’t too far from the lobby. On the way there, you passed a large pool with a swim-up bar, a basketball court (which excited Yoongi, as expected), and a gym that looked to be pretty well equipped with various exercise machines and plenty of floor space for individual workouts. Following the path out of the central area and around the backside of the resort, you were greeted by a sweeping expanse of ocean. You stopped in your tracks, eyes lit up, not believing what you were seeing. After all, you didn’t live close to the beach, and had only seen the ocean a few times before in your life. The ones you’d been to were nothing compared to the view in front of you. The water was crystal clear, a vibrant shade of turquoise as far as you could see.

“C’mon, you goon. It’s just the ocean,” Yoongi said from up ahead, pulling you out of your daze. You rolled your eyes at him once again, following him along the path to get to your room. He was several steps ahead of you, arriving at the door of your room quickly, while you were still meandering along the path to catch up to him, finding it hard to concentrate on anything except the beautiful ocean to your left. You watched him as he used his key to unlock the door, opening it and walking through the entryway. You caught up to him soon after, entering the room yourself, but you were stopped by the sudden force of walking directly into Yoongi’s back, throwing you back a bit.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, smacking his shoulder blade lightly.

He turned to face you, replying with, “Not my problem. Our problem.” With that he pointed to the inside of your room. You looked over his shoulder to see exactly what he was referring to.

One king-sized bed was staring you straight in the face from the center of the room.

“Oh,” you let out, a look of surprise spreading across your face.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it,” Yoongi reassured you as he stepped around you and walked back out the door. You were left standing alone in the room after that, not wanting to move to avoid messing up the room for the housekeeping staff who would inevitably come to check out the room after the two of you were switched to the correct room type.

Ten minutes passed before you heard the click of the door unlocking behind you. Yoongi walked in with a defeated look in his eyes. He sighed, smiling at you gently.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Yoon, just stop. Did you get it fixed?” you replied, an exasperated puff of air leaving your lips.

“Well, no. I didn’t. Apparently this is one of their busiest weeks and they just don’t have another room to switch us to. They said the rooms with two beds were reserved only for handicapped guests needing accessible accommodations,” Yoongi explained.

“So, what you’re saying is that we have to spend the next week somehow sharing a bed. What could possibly be the ‘good news’ in this situation?” you asked him, your tone of voice raising to a shrill whine.

“The good news is that they gave us a voucher for fifty percent off dinner at their premium restaurant. But yes, we are gonna have to share the bed,” Yoongi finished.

You sighed, a look of absolute terror on your face. In all the years the two of you had been friends, you had never shared a bed. Sure, you’d fallen asleep together during a movie on your couch many times, or like earlier on the plane, but actually sharing a bed? No. The thought had never crossed your mind. That was a level of intimacy that you never wanted, afraid of how it could turn out. You knew you moved around a lot in your sleep. What if you tried to cuddle him in your sleep? Or worse, what if you tried to cuddle him and he rejected you? You shook your head, trying to clear your mind.

“Uh… you alright? It’s honestly not a big deal to me. It’s just sleeping,” Yoongi said with a shrug of his shoulders, hand running through his hair.

“Um, yeah, sorry. Yeah, I’m good. No big deal,” you stuttered, trying not to sound too shaken by this new development.

“Alright then. That’s settled,” Yoongi replied enthusiastically, “what do you wanna do until we meet the others for dinner?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going down to the beach. We have, what, two hours?”

Before he could even answer you, you were rifling through your suitcase, pulling out one of the swimsuits you’d brought for the trip. You squeezed past Yoongi to get to the bathroom to change, taking only a minute to rid yourself of your travel clothes and swap them with the tiny blue bikini you’d bought the week before. You didn’t usually have the confidence to wear swimsuits, instead choosing to swim in shorts and a swim shirt, but hell, you were on vacation and you were going to take advantage of that. You didn’t even bother to put a coverup over your swimsuit before opening the bathroom door and returning to your suitcase to grab your sunscreen and towel.

Yoongi stopped what he was doing, not fully processing the sight in front of him. His mouth agape, he couldn’t help but to let his eyes linger on your barely clothed form across the room. He wasn’t huge on swimming, and the few times he had gone to the pool with you, you hadn’t worn anything like that before. Looking at you, dressed like that, stirred up feelings that had long since been buried in the back of his mind. He wished you had shown him this part of yourself years ago. If you had, maybe he would’ve had the courage to tell you his feelings for you.

“Hey. Earth to Yoon,” your voice rang out, fingers snapping inches from his face. He shook his head, coming back to reality.

“Sorry. What?” he asked, rubbing the side of his face, trying to shake off the completely impure thoughts racing through his brain.

“I asked you if you can get my back,” you repeated, shaking the bottle of sunscreen out at him. He took it from you, hesitantly opening the cap and squeezing some out onto his palm. You turned around and lifted your ponytail up to give him a clean canvas to paint with the protective layer. You jumped a little as his cold hands touched your spine, feeling his fingers massage the lotion into your back.

Yoongi bit his lip as he concentrated on making sure to cover your entire back and the rest of your shoulders that you couldn’t reach. This small, friendly action definitely wasn’t helping to ward off the impure thoughts from just a minute ago. In fact, it was only fueling them. He imagined his hands roaming elsewhere on your body, getting to touch you in places that had always been off limits to him, imagining your body writhing underneath him. These thoughts had been tormenting him for months now, which both surprised him entirely and also completely didn’t. He took a deep breath as he slipped his hand underneath the string of your bikini top to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots, then clapped both his hands on your shoulders and gently shoved you toward the door.

“All done. Now go, have fun, try not to drown,” Yoongi said with a laugh as he watched you walk out the door.

Left alone with only his own thoughts, Yoongi’s mind began to wander. What if he did tell you how he felt? The two of you had been friends for so long that he felt like it could go one of two ways. One, you’d laugh it off and tell him he was being ridiculous, and then you’d forget about it, and your friendship would remain intact. Or two, you wouldn’t be able to understand and it would cause irreparable damage to the friendship you’d been building over the last eight years. He didn’t know which option was worse, telling you and facing rejection, possibly losing the best friend he’d ever had; or not telling you, and living with the weight of his unconfessed feelings forever. This week, he’d be living in even closer quarters with you than normal, and he wasn’t sure how to get through it. But he was going to try his hardest to act like nothing was going on inside his head.

–

Seven o’clock rolled around and the two of you met up with the rest of your friends for dinner at the agreed upon restaurant. Namjoon had called ahead to make sure they could seat all ten of you together, so there was a large table toward the back of the restaurant waiting for your group when you arrived. Everyone sat down, ready to catch up and talk about how the rooms were and how they’d spent their first few hours at the resort.

“So, we have some fun news,” Yoongi said with a laugh. That got everyone’s attention, most of the group looking up from their menus to give him their full attention.

“Our room only has one bed. Yoon tried to get us switched to a different room, but there was nothing available. So, we’re stuck sharing for the week,” you explained.

An awkward silence took over the group. A few seconds passed, and suddenly, Jimin and Hobi were cracking up laughing. The rest of the table stared at them, unsure what was so funny. Yoongi, of course, knew exactly why they were laughing, but he trusted them to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t blow his cover.

“Phew. Sorry, I’m just imagining Yoongi curled up in a tiny ball while ____ spreads out across the bed the whole week,” Hobi explained, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye that had been pushed out by his laughter. Jimin nodded in agreement, but Yoongi didn’t miss the knowing look that he shot him before the subject naturally changed to everyone’s afternoon activities. You shared about your time on the beach, telling everyone how nice the water was and that you loved being able to go whenever you felt like it. Namjoon had spent his time reading, while Yoongi had played a bit of basketball. The rest of the group had just relaxed in their rooms until it was time to get ready for dinner.

Dinner passed quickly, drinks flowing freely with everyone in full vacation mode. The ten of you always had a great time when you were together, although more often than not most of you drank more than you should, at the insistence of Jimin. Tonight was no different. Yoongi was three glasses of whiskey deep into a bottle the other guys had purchased. You and the girls were drinking fruity cocktails, yours containing more tequila than fruit. Hobi had turned completely red-faced after drinking his second drink, and the rest were drinking a combination of the whiskey and some other drinks that Jimin ordered for them. You were glad you were on vacation, because you knew you would wake up at least some degree of hungover the next morning. You spent so much time at the restaurant that your server had to come tell you that you needed to leave because it was closing time. Everyone gathered their things, talking amongst themselves about if they should move to the resort’s nightclub for a few more drinks.

“I think I’m actually gonna go back to the room for the night. I do not want to spend this entire trip vomiting from trying to keep up with Jimin,” you said as you picked up your purse, waving goodbye to the group as you walked away.

The rest of your friends walked in the opposite direction, heading to the nightclub. Yoongi and Jimin were the stragglers of the group, walking a few feet behind everyone else. Jimin nudged Yoongi with an elbow to the ribs, cocking his head to the side before he said what he’d been meaning to say all night.

“Bro, are you ever gonna tell her how you feel?”

Yoongi sputtered, unsure how to reply. He knew that Jimin knew, obviously. He had admitted it himself years ago when Jimin had questioned why he would move in with you if you didn’t share his feelings. Back then, he had tried to come up with excuses and act like he didn’t know what Jimin was talking about, but Jimin had coaxed it out of him. He was sworn to secrecy and had kept his word so far, rarely even mentioning it except for in situations like this (situations being drunk nights together when you left early and Yoongi was stuck with him, watching you leave).

“Minie, I told you. I can’t,” Yoongi replied, sighing.

“Why not?”

“I’ll ruin everything. I can’t lose her,” Yoongi answered. He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that telling you he was in love with you would fuck up your friendship, and that was something he could never take back once it was out in the open.

“Listen. You might think it’ll ruin everything. But I don’t think so. I’ve seen how you two are together. You’re best friends. I think you need to tell her, before you don’t have the chance anymore. I’ve been keeping this to myself for years because you asked me not to bring it up. But I just can’t keep watching you suffer when there’s a really simple solution. Just tell her,” Jimin let out in one quick response.

Yoongi stared at him, wide-eyed. He knew Jimin was right, but he never thought he’d have the courage to go through with it. Luckily for him, Jimin had just the thing to help calm his nerves. He handed Yoongi a small flask, and he took a gulp of the bitter liquid, handing it back. It was now or never.

“Good luck, man,” Jimin said, clapping him on the back and pushing him back in the direction of your shared room.

Yoongi took several deep breaths as he walked, unsure who was controlling his movements, because it sure as hell wasn’t him. He had no idea how he would even begin to get this out, but the combination of Jimin’s confidence in him, and the shot of liquid courage he’d just downed, made him feel like he could.

Before he knew it, he was using his key to enter your room. You turned around at the sound of the door shutting behind him, surprised to see him.

“What happened to everyone going to the nightclub?” you questioned, confused look on your face.

“Ah, yeah. They did. I just decided to come back early. Started feeling the liquor a little more and I knew I’d regret it if I kept drinking,” Yoongi explained, hand rubbing the back of his neck, a small smile on his lips.

“Makes sense. That’s exactly why I didn’t go out either,” you said, laughing at the thought of your entire group stumbling back to their rooms in the dead of the night.

You continued getting ready for bed, going into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Yoongi followed you, and you scooted over for him to share the sink with you as he washed his face and brushed his teeth as well.

You left him in the bathroom, claiming the right side of the bed before he could give an opinion on which side he wanted. You curled up under the soft comforter, turning over to switch off your bedside light, deciding that sleeping facing the wall would probably be in your best interest this week.

“Figures,” Yoongi scoffed as he shuffled his socked feet across the room to climb into bed next to you. You knew that Yoongi preferred the right side of the bed, but so did you, so it was only fair for whoever got there first to call dibs on it. You felt the bed dip down behind you as Yoongi laid down, and his light turned off seconds after. The room was quiet, only the sounds of the ceiling fan and Yoongi’s deep breathing saving you from being too restless to sleep.

Minutes passed, and you were starting to drift off when you heard Yoongi turn over onto his side. Suddenly, you felt his warm hand on your arm.

“Hey, are you still awake?”

“Yeah,” you responded quietly.

A deep, shaky breath left Yoongi’s lips, and then, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Your breath caught in your throat. In all the years you had been friends, he had never asked to talk to you about something. Any problem he had with you was always blurted out at random, which was something you admired about him. He was never afraid to speak his mind when it came to you or his other friends, so his hesitancy worried you. You rolled over to face him, feeling like whatever it was should be said face to face instead of said to your back.

“What’s up?” you asked him. The moonlight shone through the gaps of the curtains on the window across the room, illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. You looked at him, seeing a discomfort that you rarely noticed in him. You had only seen that look in his eyes a few other times, which confused you even more. Yoongi took a few more deep breaths before beginning.

“This isn’t something I ever planned to tell you. Shit, it isn’t something I ever planned to feel at all. But I do, and I just can’t go on acting like there’s nothing going on with me. Jimin was the one who gave me the push I needed to finally tell you. But the truth is, I am so fucking in love with you. I have been since the summer after graduation. We got so close and you became my best friend, and I didn’t want to mess any of that up, so I kept it to myself for so long. But I just can’t anymore,” Yoongi breathed out, his eyes locked on yours, his hand gripping your bicep lightly.

Yoongi was met with nothing but silence. The look on your face went from confused, to shocked, to utterly terrified. You didn’t break away from his gaze, which was at least something, but you didn’t say anything either. Finally, after what felt like hours, you let out a shaky breath and opened your mouth to speak.

“Yoon,” you started, voice cracking. You knew you were on the verge of tears, but you tried your best to hold them back so you could get out what you needed to say. “I… I don’t know what to say. You’re my best friend, and I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about you that way, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not, ____? We know everything about each other. We’ve been through so much together. What could it hurt?” Yoongi pleaded, his fingers tracing along your arm lightly as he spoke.

“I just don’t want to lose you, Yoon. You’re my best friend. If it didn’t work out… I couldn’t take losing you for good,” you explained. You broke his gaze, unable to deal with looking him directly in the eye anymore. You knew you were hurting him, which was bad enough, but to see the hurt right in front of your face like that? It wasn’t something you could bear.

“____. It would be so easy. You and me, we’re like soulmates, yeah? We’ve always said that, haven’t we? I promise, we could make it work.” With that, you felt his hand run up your arm and shoulder to your face, cupping your cheek in his hand lightly, running his thumb over your skin. You stilled, eyes on him again. Your heart was racing, about to beat out of your chest. You shivered, and you hesitantly brought your hand up to rest on his waist.

“Promise me one thing, Yoon. Promise me our friendship will be okay,” you breathed out. Yoongi nodded, never breaking eye contact with you as he leaned in and softly touched his lips to yours. Your breath caught in your throat as he kissed you, feeling a heat you’d never felt before. His hand moved down to your neck, nudging your head to the side with his nose as he deepened the kiss. His tongue met yours, lazily, but hungrily. It was as though he wanted to devour you through his kiss alone.

His hand left your neck, moving to your hip and pulling you into him. Your arm wrapped around his back, sliding your hand up to tangle in his hair. He twisted his body to push you onto your back, breaking the kiss to move down to your neck. His lips ghosted over the column of your throat, gentle, heated kisses landing on your neck and collarbone. He reached down to grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He was met with the sight of your beautiful bare torso underneath him, chest heaving as you breathed heavily, eyes locking on his. You did the same to him, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side. He continued his sporadic kissing, moving down to your chest until his lips settled on the bud of your left breast. Looking up at you, he hesitantly took the nipple into his mouth, tongue licking circles around it. A whine escaped your lips, and Yoongi knew then that he could listen to your sounds all night if you let him.

Your hips bucked up into him, and his breathing hitched, feeling your body against his. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pajama bottoms, sliding both layers you had on down your legs until he could pull them off and savor the image of you, completely naked, reacting to his every touch.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed out, hands running up your legs until they rested on your thighs. Slowly, he parted your legs, positioning himself between them. He left a few gentle kisses on your lower abdomen, tongue darting out to lick a path from your belly button down to your mound. Taking one more look up at you, and seeing your pupils blown with lust, was all the encouragement he needed as he dragged his wet tongue through your folds, teasing at your entrance before he brought it back up to circle your clit.

“Yoon..” you gasped out, one hand going to your breast, squeezing it and playing with the nipple. It was partially for you because you enjoyed the stimulation, but also for him as well, giving him a show to pay attention to as he devoured you like you were his last meal.

You let out another loud moan as he pushed two of his fingers into your pussy, his tongue fervently lapping up your slick as he hooked his fingers just right for you to see stars. You bucked your hips against his fingers, wanting every inch of him inside of you.

“That’s it. You’re so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers,” Yoongi told you, using the other hand to push down gently on your lower stomach. The extra sensation, combined with his tongue tracing patterns through your folds, nearly sent you over the edge right then. Your moans grew more desperate, breathing becoming more erratic as he groaned into your pussy, enjoying giving you pleasure as much as you enjoyed getting it. Just then, he took your clit in between his lips, sucking gently, his fingers not stopping their consistent thrusting into you. He watched you as he took you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like no other. Your moans and whines spilled out, saying his name over and over as he used his tongue to help you ride it out. He only stopped when you forcefully pushed his head away from you, unable to take the overstimulation. Your entire body was weak, shaking uncontrollably underneath him. You pulled him by the arm up and over you, kissing him messily, not caring about tasting yourself on his lips.

Still kissing you, refusing to break the connection between the two of you, he reached down and clumsily pushed his sweatpants and boxers down, kicking them off his ankles onto the floor. You watched as his cock sprung free, salivating at the sight of it. Bringing himself up into the space between your thighs again, you couldn’t help yourself as you reached down and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him a few times, watching as his head fell to your shoulder, his breathing coming out in short gasps. With that, you guided him slowly to your entrance, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you at that moment.

“Yoon, please, I need you,” you whined, eyes on him as he pushed just the tip of his cock into you, going slowly to allow you time to adjust to his size. You were so wet that he slid into you with no resistance, his moans tumbling out as he bottomed out, pelvis touching yours. He raised his torso up with his forearms, kissing you as he began to slowly thrust into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to hold them together as you held the back of his neck. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasm that the sweet drag of his cock against your walls had you begging for more sooner than you expected. His thrusts became rougher, sending the sound of skin slapping against skin throughout the room.

Your second orgasm already building, Yoongi reached down between you and rubbed tiny circles on your clit, pushing into you erratically. He struggled to keep a rhythm as his own release came closer, and his kisses grew sloppy as he continued rubbing his fingers gently on you. The second orgasm wasn’t as strong, but regardless, your body shook as it overpowered you, walls contracting around his cock. The new sensation set off Yoongi’s orgasm soon after. He groaned out loudly as he thrusted into you a few more times, collapsing on top of you as you both came down from your shared high. There was silence aside from your heavy breathing as he pulled out of you and laid next to you, kissing your temple as he wrapped you up in his arms. You huddled into his embrace, face resting against his chest, listening as his heart rate slowly regulated.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispered.

“Yeah?” you whispered back, afraid to move from the warmth of his arms.

“Nothing’s changed. You’re still my best friend, and I’m still in love with you,” he answered, placing a slow kiss to your forehead as he squeezed you tighter.

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you said in response, hugging him back even tighter.

You weren’t sure if this would last, or if it would even work at all, but that was a question to save for another day. Tonight, all you wanted to do was fall asleep in the arms of the man who had been there for you for eight years, the man you’d loved for half of that time. You didn’t have all the answers, but one thing you were sure about? You were so, so glad that you sucked at calculus.

#bts fic #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga x reader #suga fanfic #suga fic #suga smut #yoongi one shot #btswritersclub #yoongi

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waynewifey · 9 months

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dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

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ethereal-engene · 4 months

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hey tayo? but that's appa!

pairing: enhypen!husband maknae line x fem!reader

genre: slice-of-life, husband/father AU, fluff, and attempted humor // warnings: none

summary: how I think the maknae line would react to you showing your kid’s (like the kid is yours and his) hey tayo/billy poco

word count: ~1.5k

note: THANK YOU THANK YOU so much to anon who requested this! I’m sorry for the long wait 😭 I hope you enjoy this <3 your message made my day so much when I got it!! // hyung line ver

Sunoo

You’re in the living room with your child as they watch tayo the little bus on the tv

It’s been a long day with them running around and playing pretend with them. Oh and of course, they spent a lot of time running away from you while trying to put on their clothes

They bring you lots of joy but it can still be tiring

So you settle for some tv time before nap time and you’re on the brink of falling asleep until you hear a familiar tune start to play that instantly wakes you up

It’s the one and only billy poco music video

You hold in your laughter and watch your child’s reaction to it and they have stars in their eyes

They 100% recognize their dad and is having the time of their lives right now

Sunoo is in the other room and when he hears it, he smiles and walks over to y’all

Seeing his child dance to this song makes him really happy and his heart full

So he starts showing his kid how to do the dance and sing his lines

Even goes as far to pick them up and spin them around while singing

“Appa! Appa! You met tayo and his friends?? What were they like? Please tell me so I can tell all of my friends how cool my dad is!!” They excitedly take a seat when sunoo sets them down

Sunoo gently shhhs them and making a motion to calm down

“To answer your question love bug, I did meet them and they were all so friendly and kind. If you promise me to be kinder to mommy and help her out by listening to her, I’ll make sure you get a special gift from tayo! Can you do that for me, love bug?” Sunoo asks while staring at them

They nod so much that you worry their head is gonna roll off. Not long after, they go over to you and apologize for running away earlier

You tell them it’s okay and that you accept their apology

“Now, can we please play the song again?? I really like appa’s voice, it’s so pretty!”

Handing him the remote, he replays it and sits next to you. Sunoo gently lifts your head up so he can move his arm through you & then places your head onto his arm

So your neck is more comfy and you smile at each other

Watching your little bundle of joy enjoy this song is a great memory and one that you both won’t forget

It fills his heart with pride and happiness that he was able to have made something for his kid to appreciate growing up

Bonus, the kid got a happy birthday message AND a message from tayo & his friends telling them that they love them and they should be listen to their parents

Jungwon

As far as I can tell jungwon seems to be pretty chill about singing hey tayo or billy poco

So much that he’s actually the one showing your kid(s) the music video

(gotta switch up the scenario for wonnie🥺)

He’s teaching them the lyrics and how to sing it

Not even gonna lie, you thought you were just hearing things as you were in another room doing another chore for the house

But then as you listen, you recognize that he’s really playing the song that you’re hearing

Curiosity gets the best of you and take a peek out of the door to see them

Your heart melts as you watch them play with jungwon

Trying to dance and sing like their dad 🤧

Jungwon has no shame in his career, even if he had to sing some kid songs

He lets them sing it to him, despite it being off-key

Sooner or later, you join them and ask them if they recognize their “appa”

Not even taking a moment to think, they point to jungwon

“Appa looks like an agi here. He was so cute, but I love appa now too! Appa, how come you met Tayo before I was born?? You could have taken me.” They pout and sulk a little when they remember this fact about their dad

Jungwon looks at you for help but you gesture it’s your probelm not mine

“Oh sweetheart, if I had known you wanted to come I would have brought you. Don’t worry, next time I get to meet Tayo, I’ll bring you with me, is it okay?” He asks them while holding them up in air

“okay okay!! YAY!! Appa you’re the best! Now let me down please!” And of course, jungwon obliged to the request

Not long after, they get tired and you put them down for nap time

Heading over to where Jungwon is, you tell him “Honey, that was a good save there. Sorry I couldn’t help you out, but I honestly wanted to see what’d you say.”

You plant a small kiss on cheek after finishing your sentence and drag him to the couch to nap

“I can’t believe you let fend for myself back there but I gotta say having quick wits and thinking is just a skill I learned from being a leader.”

He places your head on his chest and gives you a forehead kiss before napping with you

Ni-ki

It’s not that Ni-ki hates billy poco or hey tayo, it’s just notttt what he really expected to be doing when he became an idol

Anyways let’s get to the story

You, the kid, and Ni-ki were out and about

Probably shopping at the mall and stopped by a kids shop

The kids shop has a tv on and it’s playing hey tayo

Before Riki even registers it, his child is watching the TV screen with a dazed look on their face

They look at the TV screen and then back to their dad (and repeat the process for a few times)

Riki still hasn’t registered it until his kid runs up to him asking him about it

He is confused as ever like where and how did they learn about this

Riki wanted to pretend it didn’t exist 😭

Before he gets any questions out, you point to the screen and his eyes just pop

He feels like his world is falling apart (he’s so dramatic)

Legit drops down to his knees and hands on his head

Your child thinks they did something wrong and starts to get worried

Runs over to their dad and hugs him

“I’m sorry if I made you sad otōsan . I just wanted to know if you were the same guy on the screen. I didn’t mean to make you cry, please don’t be sad!”

You lovingly smack Riki on the back of the head. MAKING YOUR KID CRY LIKE THAT??

“Riki, if you don’t get your butt up, I’m going to give you something to actually cry about. And bubba, don’t worry. Otōsan isn’t sad, he’s just not happy but don’t worry, we’ll make it all better!”

Slightly scolding him, you gesture him to explain to their child about this

He wipes their tears away and hugs them tightly back.

“Oh bubba, no no. You didn’t make me sad. I was just shocked that this song was still playing. Please don’t cry, I’m sorry for making you feel that way earlier. Yes, I’m in the video, a long time ago I filmed a video and song for tayo and his friends. I’ll tell you more about at home, is that okay?”

They hug him back and nod. “It’s okay otōsan, I still love you and I think you look the coolest! Especially when you had your moment with dancing. Can you teach me how to do it?”

Riki nods and kisses them on the head

“Now let’s get back to shopping!” He says before dragging them around the store and playing with them

Before y’all leave the store after checking out, the employee shyly asks for his signature in which he accepts but cringes when he realizes it’s on a tayo product 😭

You are for sure never letting him forget about these songs for tayo and baby shark. You laugh a bit hard when you see what he has to sign

On the bright side, Riki still feels like he’s on top of the world with his kid reassuring him he looks the coolest (even if it’s a kids song)

thank you so much again to the anon who requested this <3 happy holidays and I hope everyone has a safe new years!!

as always if you liked it, please leave feedback through the notes, send me a dm or an ask, or reblog it with your thoughts in the tag !! they really mean the world to me 💗

signing off with love,

- ash

#kflixnet #enhypen x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #ni-ki x reader #riki x reader #enha x reader #enha imagine #enha fluff #enha scenarios #enha x you #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen imagines #enhypen maknae line #enhypen #engene #gonna try to write my jacob comfort fic now

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deepdisireslonging · 5 months

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No Cum November Part 10: Good Vibrations

The boy’s teasing of the reader comes to a screeching halt when they get a visitor on a case.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Warnings/Promises: public use of toy, edging, Castiel sighting

Word Count: 620

Note: No actual smut in this one, but it’s funny. This one brings me so much joy, lol. Only one last chapter for this series. Let me know how you’ve enjoyed it with comments and reblogs! Happy reading:

Part 9: On the King’s Blade (King of Hell!Sam)

With the end of the month just a few days away, you were desperate. The boys had taken such good care of you, giving you so much pleasure. But that also made this “no cum November” such a challenge. And they weren’t about to let up now. If anything, they were ramping up.

Sam promised a rest after one more case.

Dean said it was a quick check-in with some fellow hunters.

To their credit, it was moving quickly. But their teasing was making this case feel like it was going to take eons.

Asking the witness another question, Dean slid his hand into his pocket. You were too busy taking notes to notice. Until the toy inside you started buzzing.

You sucked in a breath. Closing your eyes, you steadied your nerves. When the witness gave you a questioning look, you lightly rubbed your nose. “Sorry. Almost sneezed. Late seasonal allergies.”

They nodded and continued answering questions. Dean eventually turned off the toy, giving you a respite. Then Sam walked up. He scrolled over the “notes” from the last witness on his phone. The nipple clamps hidden under your shirt activated. Thankfully, your blazer hid your stiffened nipples.

They continued back and forth, sometimes overlapping, until they had talked to everyone they wanted to. Only then did both toys turn off. Sam placed his hand on your lower back and guided you to the car. The backseat doors were barely closed before you were clawing at his belt buckle.

He gripped your wrists and held them back. “Nuh-uh, we’ve left you kind of alone in this challenge. So, for the last few days, we’re joining you. No cumming for us either.”

“But,” you pouted, “it’s not a real challenge is I don’t get to touch you like you guys touched me.”

Dean laughed in the front seat. “That’s- that’s a good point. But can we at least get to the hotel before you start stripping a federal officer in the backseat?”

With a humph, you sat back. A few minutes later, you cried out as Dean drove past the motel. “Hey-“

“Hungry. One more stop.”

At the corner diner, Dean walked behind you. He caught your hips and whispered in your ear, “we also need a break. If you got your hands on us now…” He tugged you back into his crotch. His hard-on pressed thickly into your backside. “Sweetheart, we’d bust.”

That didn’t keep them continuing their game in the booth while you ordered. You were two seconds away from a panting mess when another person appeared in the booth.

“Cas!” Dean held a hand to his chest. “Don’t do that.”

His eyes glittered with amusement. But then he squinted. And turned to face you.

“Don’t scan me,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “Just don’t. I’m fine.”

He didn’t. He scanned Sam. “Are you hunting a witch or something? Are you cursed?”

Sam sputtered into his drink. “No. We’re fine. You popped in for a reason?”

Cas quickly ran through some information concerning angel movements and demon activity. Then Dean cut him off.

“As long as it’s not another apocalypse, it’s gonna be a minute before we can help out. We’ve been running through cases back-to-back.”

“Yes.” Cas glanced over the three of you. “And you must get your… rest.” He cleared his throat. “There are a few leads I’d like to check out. Should take a week or so.”

Sam grinned, strained as you rested your hand on his thigh. “Perfect. We’ll rest up until we hear from you again.”

Cas paused before leaving. “What’s no-cum-Nove-“

“Just go,” Dean groaned.

After a blink, the angel was gone. After another few seconds, you all burst into laughter.

***

Part 11: One Last Ride (Finale)

Series Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #winchester x reader #reader insert #crack!fic #supernatural

86 notes · View notes

underground-secret · 7 months

Text

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x Fem! reader

Description: A small town where dark secrets unfold isn’t anything new to these seasoned hunters, except when it has something to do with urban legends…apparently.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions/talk of suicide, mentions of gruesome death, eye bleeding, Blood Mary (idk if this would be a warning but like 🤷🏼‍♀️), mentions of murder, witchy stuff

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra ,@fablesrose

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out again my AP class is really AP-ing and has taken up literally all my time. I spent four days working on a 20 pages packet that took forever meaning I had zero time for this. Again so so sorry.

Word count: 7,719

Bloody Mary

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

“Sam, wake up.” Dean nudges the man in question, the car in park.

Sam wakes, confused, he sits up and looks around. “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one.” Dean confirms, and I nod too a frown on my face.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam offers

“Sam” I stretch out his name, “that cannot be your positive to this.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” Dean adds.

But Sam ignores us, avoids the whole conversation, “Are we here?”

Dean lets him avoid the whole ordeal and I have to wonder how long he will let his brother lie. Though I guess I'm no better. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper that sat on the console of the car, the obituary of Steven Shoemaker circled.

‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemarker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, [...] 31 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo [...] and cherish you [...] Your [...]’ The article read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks us.

“That's what we're gonna find out.” Dean answers, turning off the car. “Let's go.”

We exit the car, entering the large hospital building that stood in front of us walking up to the two desks that lie in the room. One of them is empty with a name tag that reads, ‘Dr. D. Feiklowicz.’ The other one however was occupied by a Morgue technician in blue scrubs, “Hey” the man greets us as we approach.

“Hey.” Dean answers back.

“Can I help you?” The technician asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students.” Dean lies.

“Sorry?” The man asks back.

“Oh, Doctor—“ Dean stammers over the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemarker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The tech informs us.

“Oh well he said, uh—“ Dean sighs, “—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” He tells us, gesturing to the seats on the side of the room.

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looks at me and Sam as if queuing us to lie with him.

“Yeah.” Sam and I say at the same time, “Jinx” I mumble underneath my breath just loud enough for Sam to hear me who in return gives me a scrunched face.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—“ Dena explains getting cut off by the man in scrubs, “Uh, look, man...no.”

Dean laughs a little. He turns around to face us, mumbling, “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

But I mean we can’t really blame the guy he’s just doing his job.

Sam hits his brother on the arm, taking a step in front of him he opens his wallet and pulls out some twenties. He lays a few of them, at least five, down on the desk. The Morgue Tech picks up the money, “Follow me.”

The technician gets up and leaves. I go to follow, seeing in the corner of my eye Dean grabbing Sam when he too tries to follow, forcing me to stop and go back a step to see what they are on about.

“Dude, I earned that money.” Dean complains.

“You won it in a poker game.” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah.” Dean answers.

Sam rolls his eyes, pulling away from his brother to follow the technician.

“You’ll make it back” I say, patting Dean on the back shortly to go follow the morgue man.

Dean stays back a half a second before following after us.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam said as the Morgue Tech pulled back the sheet over Steven’s face. Revealing a pale, long faced man with dark hair, blood stained on his cheeks below his eyes as if he had cried them.

“More than that. They practically liquefied.” The tech scuffs.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks him.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.” He answers.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam questioned.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.” He replied.

“You mean like cerebral bleeding?” I ask, wanting to clarify.

“Yeah. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.” He responded.

“The eyes & mash;what would cause something like that?” Sam asked.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” The technician explains.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean scuffs.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.” The tech shrugs.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Dean requests.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” He answers, stretching out ‘that.’

Sam sighs clearly annoyed, as he pulls out his wallet.

Now leaving the hospital, walking down the stairs Sam suggests, “Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.”

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean points out.

“Uh, almost never.” Sam answers.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, let's go talk to the daughter.” I announce”

We walk into Steven’s funeral, a picture of him on the desk.

All the men in the room are wearing black suits and the women adorned in black dresses, everyone except us. Dean points this very fact out, “Feel like we're underdressed.” I nod in agreement, my lips in a tight line, the guilt of interrupting these people’s mourning with not only us being undressed but also for not having a reasonable explanation of us being here.

But no one stops us as we keep walking through the house, all the way towards the back and outside to the backyard.

A man points us towards Donna and Lily Shoemarker, the daughters of the man we had seen on a metal table only moments before, who are standing near two people whom I can only assume is a friend or family member.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean greets the eldest daughter as we approach the group of people.

“Yeah.” She answers sadly brushing her short brunette hair out of her face.

“Hi, uh—we're really sorry.” Sam says.

“Thank you.” She replies, and I know she must have heard that same phrase of ‘i’m sorry’ and must have answered the same ‘thank you’ over and over to each person here. As if the death of her father hadn’t broken what’s inside her enough.

“I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” He explains.

She looks at one of the adults near her and then back at us, “You did?” And I feel bad for lying to her about this to give her a connection to her father that had never existed.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean goes on.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now” One of the men with her say, stepping in.

“It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna says, with a sharp nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks, listing out various options.

“No.” She says simply.

Lily, the youngest daughter, turns around, “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna snaps.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset.” Donna explains.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily speaks up.

“Sweetie, it didn't.” Donna tries to convince.

“Oh Lily”, I say sadly crouching down to be closer to her eye level, “What makes you think that?” I knew what it felt like to blame yourself for someone else’s death, especially your parents, especially when it happens twice and you're too young to understand why this would happen to you. I feel the eyes of the people around me bore into me, especially from the brothers behind me.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily answers.

“Said what?” I ask her.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” She explains, pausing, “She took his eyes, that's what she does.” My eyes go wide, not exactly expecting that answer.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.” Donna reasons.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean offers, giving the kid some logic to combat what she believes.

“No, I don't think so.” Lily answers. But I know it will take her years to really believe it wasn’t her fault, if ever.

Saying ‘bye’ to the grief rickened family we head back inside the house, but instead of truly leaving we sneak upstairs, approaching the bathroom.

Sam pushes the door open, dried blood stained to the white tiled floor, “The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answers, him and I trailing in after Sam who stoops to the floor touching the dried blood, “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

I grimace, why would he touch the blood?

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” Dean offers.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks and we both shrug, Dean opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—“ Sam looks at the medicine cabinet mirror, it now facing him, he closes it before continuing, “The person who says you know what gets it. But here—“

“Mr.Shoemaker gets it instead” I finish his sentence.

“Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.” Dean adds.

“It's worth checking in to.” Sam concludes, as we leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing up here?” A blonde woman stops us, the same woman who was comforting the daughters outside.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dean lies, poorly, because it makes perfect sense for three people to be using a private bathroom all at once.

“Who are you?” She asks us, naturally not accepting the poorly down lie.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean confirms.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” She counters, and we should really start researching these people before we make up lies of how we know them.

Dean tries to cover, “No, I know, I meant—“

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” She tells us, leaving no more room for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam begins.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She answers.

“But it isn’t a typical sign of stroke, it might be something else.” I say softly, ashamed for suggesting such a thing to someone who has no knowledge of our world. These people are going through so much the last thing they need is some random people questioning what they know, I wouldn’t blame her if she did scream.

“Like what?” She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her.

Sam explains this time probably sensing my unease with all this, “Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.”

Dean tilts his head, “So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” My eyes widened, snapping to look at him, and suddenly that unease I felt vanished, replaced by a burning hot feeling that rushed through my veins and brought a flush to my face. I gulped, trying to push down the feeling a simple sentence that wasn’t even directed towards me made me feel. The cockiness it held as well as the allowance in his voice…it shouldn’t have affected me, and really shouldn’t have created a burning-longing in my gut.

“Who are you, cops?” The woman questions us, but my eyes haven’t left Dean as if he was light and I a moth.

I catch Sam and Dean looking at each other, speaking without words, in my peripheral vision. “Something like that” Dean answers.

It’s then that Dean must have felt my gaze on him, my lips slightly agape as I looked at him through my lashes. His attention turned to me as Sam continued the conversation that I had long blanked out of. Dean looked me over, eyes trailing over my very being, only worsening the burning I had felt within. His eyes met mine again giving me that devilish smirk of his, I swallowed again my eyes falling to his lips.

Sam clears his throat, nudging his brothers hard enough that he knocks into me slightly. Effectively catching our attention.

“Let’s go” He tells us, the woman still in front of us this time her attention to a small piece of white paper that I assume has some sort of contact information on it.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean begins as we walk into the oddly dark library, the stale smell of cleaning products surrounding us.

“Yeah but Blood Mary is a widespread legend with tons of versions of who she actually is, with no clear answer. There’s the mutilated bride, a spirit conjured to tell the future, a witch, and a whole lot more” I answer.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks.

“Well in every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” Sam adds, answering.

“Well that sounds annoying” Dean admits.

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we…” Sam trails off looking over to the table lined with computers all that say ‘Out of Order’, he chuckles “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

We quickly turned around, heading back to the motel we were staying at to do our research there. Dean sat leaning with his head on his hand on the small table in the room on his brother's laptop. The younger brother in question had fallen asleep on one of the beds, the rustling of the sheets giving away the fact he was tossing and turning. I however sat crisscrossed on the other bed Deans to be specific, not like he cared anyways, researching on my laptop trying to find any relevant info on a Mary in this town or deaths relating to mirrors.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam suddenly speaks up, voice evident with sleep.

“Cause I'm an awesome brother” Dean scoffs, he’d never admit it was really because Sam hadn’t been able to sleep or at least sleep long for the last couple of weeks.

“And what’s your excuse Y/N?” Sam questions me, leaning on his side with one arm propped up.

“You were sleepy!” I admit simply, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“So what did you dream about?” Dean asks him, though what he was really asking was ‘did you have another nightmare?’

“Lollipops and candy canes.” He answers sarcastically. So sassy and for what?

“Yum” I reply, my eyes going back to my laptop.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks us.

“Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean huffs, making Sam sit up, “No. We’ve looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, the crisp sheets making a ‘whoosh’ noise beneath him, “Maybe we just haven't found it yet.”

“Thing is, there’s also been no strange deaths in the area, no other eyeball bleeding. Nothing. Which you know is good in hindsight but not quite helpful for us.” I explain.

Dean adds on, “Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary.”

Almost as if on cue Sam’s phone rings, he answers, still laying down. “Hello?”

Charlie, the blonde woman who questioned us before, sat on the park bench slightly hunched. I sat next to her to offer some comfort, while Dean sat on the back on the bench, his leg nearly brushing my back.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie nearly sobbed, having explained everything that happened with her friend Jill.

Jill, who had wanted to tease the blonde women about believing in such a legend, saying the name in the mirror and winding up dead. Her death being in the same manner as Mr. Shoemaker.

“I'm sorry.” Sam answered, eyebrows scrunched together.

“And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She whimpered, using the back of her hands to clear the wetness from her cheeks.

“You aren’t insane” I tell her clearly.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.” She whines and I try to not let it hurt me, because she's griefing, even though it does.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained” Sam explains. Dean adding, “And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help.”

Dean lifts me up again, this time to reach an elevated first floor window rather than a fence. His hands sliding from tight around my hips, to brushing down my thighs as he lifts me in reach of the window sill. The window wasn’t that high to reach in the first place but with my height, amidtely being shorter than both the boys, it wasn’t exactly comfortable or super easy to reach the window and pull myself up and in.

My hands grasp the cold white window sill, my rings clinking against the surface as I pull my body up. I swiftly slide my hips sideways making my butt land on the sill, in the same sort of movements you would use when you lift yourself out of a pool.

I move my legs inside the carpeted room, ducking slightly as to not hit my head on the open window. The room belonged to Jill, and as my feet hit the soft gray carpet I officially feel the disgust of intrusion creep up on me.

I slide off the windowsill moving into the room more, Sam quickly taking my place near the window to pick up the duffle Dean threw up at him. He catches it, putting it on the bed and immediately digging through it.

“So what did you tell Jill’s mom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the uncomfortability of being in someone’s bedroom let alone a dead girls bedroom crawling up my skin and in my bones.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie answers looking between us and the door nervously. Dean climbs through the window shutting the curtain behind and Sam pulls something out of the bag. “I hate lying to her” Charlie adds.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights” Dean orders.

She goes over to the lights, “”What are you guys looking for?

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean hums.

Sam hands him a camcorder on and ready, the object he got from the duffel, “Hey, night vision.” He recalls prompting the older brother to do so, his face scrunched with focus as he finds the button.

“Perfect.” Sam smiles.

The little screen of the camcorder is facing Dean, in a ‘selfie’ like mode, “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He smiles.

I laugh, slapping a hand to his upper arm on instinct, “Sure you do, baby” I joke, the pet name not something I ever use slipping from my tongue before I could realize. His head turns to give me an amused and smug smirk. In his distractment Sam takes the camera back, going over to the closet door filming around the mirror.

“So I don't get it. I mean...the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?” Sam asks out loud.

“Beats me.” Dean answers, focusing back on the situation at hand. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie reasons.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean replies.

Sam wandered into the bathroom now, looking at the mirror there. “Hey!” He calls out, getting us to turn and look at him. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean immediately went off to go get it coming back rather swiftly, just as Sam placed the mirror on Jill’s bed laying it upside down after having carried it from the bathroom. With the black light now in hand, he peels off the brown paper that’s on the back of the mirror, shining the purple light on its back revealing a handprint and the name ‘Gary Bryman.’

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie reads out loud both as an acknowledgment and also a question.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.

“No.” She answers simply.

Back on the bench, in nearly the same positions, Sam recalls his findings. “So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie gasps, horror in her eyes as she covers her mouth.

“What?” I ask the question we’re all thinking.

“Jill drove that car” She answers. Without looking for confirmation I know the boy's eyes are wide too, but there’s no room for the talking that comes after shock.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.

Somehow, with the help of Charlie, we convinced our way into Donna’s house back up to the bathroom we were in only hours before.

Hunched over the mirror with the black light, our suspicions were correct. There’s a handprint, one I have to say looks like the one in Jill’s bathroom, but I'm no criminologist. This time the name ‘Linda Shoemaker’ is written on it.

We all look at each other, knowing it’s likely that Steven killed his wife hence why Bloody Mary went for him and not the young girl who chanted her name. But the only way to have any idea of this theory is correct is to ask the brunette teenager downstairs.

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna asks us.

“I’m really sorry, Donna, but this is important.” I try to explain, but I know it won’t make sense to her. I mean we are total strangers asking her uncomfortable questions about her dead mother.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it.” She fumes, eyebrows scrunched together in fury, “I think you should leave.”

“Now Donna, just listen.” Dean reaches a hand up, as if to motion ‘calm down.’ But it doesn't work. Teary eyed and a little red in the face she yells, “Get out of my house!” Swiftly she runs up the stairs, not giving us another option.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks, finally picking up on our theory.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs.

“I think I should stick around” Charlie announces, referring to staying with Donna, which is probably a good idea.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—“ Dean tries to warn getting cut off, “Believe me, I won't say it.”

The crisp smell of old books and, oddly, cinnamon fill my nose as I take a deep breath, flexing my hand as I work out the cramping from writing a little too intensely in my small journal.

Dean sits next to me on the cold metal chairs in the library we decided to research in (different to the original one we were at), he’s typing away on the clunky computer the library has. Sam’s staring off at a bulletin board behind us with all sorts of things on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” He asks Dean, alerting us of him coming back to his seat on the other side of his brother.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean answers.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.” Sam points out.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—“ Dean explains and as much as I love him I cut him off.

“Well, Mary’s victims have a pattern, which I know you guys already know so I'll just cut to the good part. Both victims had secrets relating to where people died and, here’s the good part, there’s a lot of folklore on mirrors, specifically that mirrors are a reflection of your soul. And with that your secrets and lies are revealed to the mirror.

Fun Fact! It was the Romans who believed that the soul would regenerate every seven years, so if you broke a mirror then you’d have to wait seven years until your soul was cleansed of the bad luck and misfortune.

And while I have more fun facts about mirrors I will end it there.” I smiled, satisfied with my information vomit as well as my fun fact because fun facts are wonderful.

Both boys look at me strangely, a mix of confusion and what I think is amazement (they should be amazed cause that was a really great fun fact). Dean seems to shake it off, “Right. So if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Sam adding, “Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.”

“Correcto!” I answer, and by correct I mean that’s what I was thinking for our working theory.

“Then take a look at this.” Dean announces, clicking a few buttons on the computer before leaning over to the nearby printer, pulling out and handing us the paper. It’s a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. He prints out another picture, this time of a handprint and the letters “Tre.”

“Looks like the same handprint.” Sam points out and I nod in agreement.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.” The detective states, unfortunately I immediately forgot his name. It's not the nicest thing to happen but I was also really focused on his country accent that’s just a little too funny.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You boys and girl said you were reporters?” Mr. Detective questioned.

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife.” Sam recalls the gruesome story.

“That's right.” He confirms.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened.” Sam clarifies for him, somewhere between a curious and condescending tone.

Mr. Detective eyes us over as if he’s contemplating something. He spins his wheely chair around swiftly getting up and going to a large file cabinet. “Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this” He huffs, pulling out a file and then a picture, the same picture Dean had already found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?” Detective reads out, even though unbeknownst to him it’s old news to us.

“Yeah” Dean answers.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.” He theorizes.

“Do you know who it was, or any theories?” I ask, trying to get any sort of new answers.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out another photo, this time of this Trevor guy, he has an oval face with curly short hair definitely on the darker side but I can’t say exactly what color due to the black and white photo. He’s also wearing some sunglasses.

“And I think he cut her up good.” He finishes, his accent thick.

“Why do you think it’s him?” I question further.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, ‘T’. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell ‘T’'s wife about their affair.” He answers, and for a detective that truly means nothing.

“No offense but how does that directly correlate to Sampson… I mean there’s other people with the initial ‘T’ right?” I question him again, hoping it doesn't offend the man.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional.” He explains.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks, chiming in.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” Mr. Detective nods.

“Is he still alive?” Dean follows up.

“Nope.” He sighs, sitting down. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could.”

“Where's she buried?” Sam asks this time.

“She wasn't. She was cremated” He answers. No digging up bodies for us today.

“What about that mirror”, Dean nods towards the one in the photo, “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.” He explains, leaning back in his chair.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?”

We drive down the roads, the sun setting behind us. Sam’s call dictates where we go, either to whatever location he gives us or back to the motel.

“Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks.” Sam hangs up, pocketing his phone.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.” Sam stated.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Dean raises.

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam simply puts it.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah! People would cover up the mirror when someone died so that their spirit/ soul wouldn’t get trapped.” I explain, happy to spew some more of my fun facts.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit” Dean works through the facts.

“Yes! But I don’t know how she’s working through various mirrors” I admit.

“I don't know either, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean proposes.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe.” Sam gets cut off by his own phone, “ Hello.” A look of concern washes over his face, becoming pale “Charlie?”

The motel room is colder, the rain outside causing that meek fact. Charlie’s sitting on Sam’s bed, her head on her knees, after we picked her up from school all terrified. All the curtains are drawn shut, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered with sheets or turned aquas towards a wall or the floor there will be no bloody mary getting in here.

Sam sits next to Charlie, “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” She looks up reluctantly and slowly, “Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Her voice wobbled, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam comforts, but I don’t think it helps.

Dean sits on the bed too, “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.” She answers simply, rocking herself slightly.

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?” Dean pushes.

She looks around uncomfortably, swallowing she begins, “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?” She looks over at me for confirmation knowing without any previous conversation about it that I would understand. And she was right. It was as if bad boyfriends were sewed into the fabrics of being a woman, it would be a little strange if you hadn’t had one.

I nod and she continues, “And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She cries harder, going back to her previous position.

I move towards her, Sam getting up to allow me to sit close to her. I hug her, holding her close despite her awkward position. “That’s not your fault” I told her simply, and I meant it too. She uncurls herself, quickly wrapping her arms around me and stuffing her face into my neck. I hold her tighter. “You did the right thing, leaving him” I mutter.

Dean huffs, gripping the steering wheel slightly tighter, “You were right back there Y/N, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.”

“You guys should know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary.” Sam reasons.

“I guess” Dean sighs.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Sam suggests.

“Oh, what do you mean?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.” Sam explains.

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean questions.

“I don't, not for sure.” Sam shrugs.

“Well who's gonna summon her?” Dean follows up.

“I will. She'll come after me.” Sam states as if it’s the most obvious answer and with no care for himself.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean nearly shouts, pulling the car over quickly and roughly making my body shift nearly knocking into the door.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you.” Dean fumes, not quite yelling but also not quite talking.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam answers plainly, almost in defeat

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.” Dean adds.

“I could've warned her.” Sam sighs, and the pain in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Sam…you couldn’t have known that would happen.” I chime in, though it doesn't quite feel like my place.

“And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.” Dean exclaims.

“No you don't.” Sam states, no further explanation given.

“I don't what?” Dean asks.

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.” Sam shrugs.

“What are you talking about?” Dean questions, face full of confusion.

“Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” He replied sassily.

Dean looks surprised, “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.” But Sam doesn't get any answers, with a roll of his eyes Dean drives off. Conversation over.

Sam is trying to pick the lock on the shop's door, somehow without any word he became the designated lock picker. The dark oak door opens and all around the store are mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and varieties. Truly the worst place to be in this situation.

“Well...that's just great, '' Dean sighs, pulling out the photo of Mary’s corpse to look at the mirror, the one we’re looking for being a wooden frame. Not very helpful considering our location where there are countless mirrors that look exactly the same. “All right let's start looking.”

I nod in agreement handing both boys their crowbars. I shifted my baseball bat in my hand, there wasn’t a third crowbar and there was no reason for it anyways, a baseball bat is just as good at smashing.

We enter the dark store, flashlights on, splitting up we look for our specific mirror.

“Maybe they've already sold it.” Dean suggests, from some part of the store.

“I don't think so.” Sam says, stopping in his tracks. Dean and I walk over on either side of the taller man, Dean pulls out the picture again comparing the two. It’s our mirror.

“That's it.” Dean sighs, “You sure about this?”

Sam hands over his flashlight and sighs, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looks between the both of us, “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines through the store windows, illuminating the room.

“I'll go check that out. You guys stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves.” Dean shuffles away.

I grip my bat tighter as a breath that isn’t mine nor Sam’s surrounds us. He turns around quickly but I keep my back towards him, “Nothing?” I ask and he hums in confirmation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mary in one of the mirrors, I step forward swinging my bat back and then forward hard. The glass shatters falling to the floor around my feet. Then Sam hits a mirror behind me, before swiftly turning back to her mirror.

“Come on. Come into this one.” He mutters underneath his breath.

He tilts his head watching his regeneration weirdly when suddenly he starts breathing heavily grabbing at his chest.

“Sam!” I shout, grabbing his arm. His eyes begin to bleed, blood trickling down his cheeks. He drops his crowbar, the metal clinking against the floor loudly.

“It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica.” A voice rings out, one that sounds like Sam’s though I know it’s not him speaking. I help him to the floor carefully as he grabs his chest harder.

“You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it?” The voice fumes.

I get up leaving Sam to the floor, “That’s enough of you” I mutter, gripping my baseball bat tight. I hit her mirror, the glass shatters around me.

I hear Sam take a deep breath in, when I look down at him he’s no longer holding his chest. He holds a thumb up to me, weakly.

But for some reason the voice didn’t stop, Mary was no longer hurting Sam but her accusations wouldn’t stop.

“Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!”

I smash three more mirrors, anything to get it to stop by it doesn't.

“SAM, SAMMY!” Dean shouts, rushing into the room and crouching down to his brother.

“It's Sam” He answers meekly.

Dean holds onto his brother's face gently, eyeing his face and the blood on it, “God, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replies, a little unsure though considering the circumstances I get it.

“Come on, come on.” He pulls Sam up, bringing his arm around his neck with a nod of his head towards the door. I follow the boys towards the exit.

A sudden crunching noise forces us to turn around. Mary crawls out of the frame of her mirror, her long black hair covering her face, she walks over the broken glass with no care, her head tilting to the side as she crawls towards us. Her dark nearly black eyes bore into us, somehow she forces us to the floor.

My chest feels tight as if someone was squeezing my heart, I try to crawl backwards on my hands like a crab walk when a sharp pain surges through my hand followed by my eyes. I bring my hand in front of me, a large slash runs through my palm, a piece of glass sticking out of it. The ache in my eyes I know is not caused by glass but by Mary, I reach my gold hand up to my cheek blood trickling down my face. I suck in a breath, the pain not helping the already pain I was feeling. I look over to the boys on the left of me nearly on top of each other as blood runs down both their cheeks.

Mary stands approaching us with a head tilt and a limp. I grumble holding up a shaky hand, waving my hand once, slowly, making long mirrors form in a line in front of Mary acting as a wall between us.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” A female voice cried out, Mary’s voice.

She looks at her reflections scared, when she begins to choke. She grabs on to her throat and her chest, crumbling down to the ground she shrieks, turning to a puddle of blood

With another wave of my hand the wall of mirrors shatters, glass falling to the floor loudly.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I hum feeling a little defeated.

“This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” He asks me and I can’t help the big smile that falls on my face.

“Mmm I can’t wait” I laugh, the sarcastic comment coming to me with ease.

The sun rises in front of us, gleaming on the Impala. Our faves are cleaned up, ridden of blood and the event that unfolded. The only proof of it happening being my hand that’s carefully wrapped in white gauze, the glass now out and the cut cleaned.

Charlie sits next to me in the back seat as we pull up to her house, it's odd having someone else back here with me.

“So this is really over?” She asks us, her eyes puffy from her night of crying.

Dean looks at her through the rearview mirror, nodding, “Yeah, it's over.”

“Thank you.” She says, Dean reaching back to shake her hand. She turns to me next, arms open in a hug. I close the gap between us and give her a good squeeze.

She smiles a little sadly at me, getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam calls out, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turns around, “Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

She smiles faintly, turning back around to go into her house.

Dean hits his brother's arm gently, “That's good advice.”

We drive off the car falling silent for a beat before Dean talks again, “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.” Dean tells him, looking between him and the road.

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” He admits with a sigh, looking out the window.

The car falls silent again.

Healing isn’t easy. It's not something you can put a bandaid on and expect to be fine, and maybe all that Sam shared will be enough for now but that’s not something we can gauge.

That is times doing, and time isn’t something we can control.

God knows i’ve tried.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural #john winchester #slow burn #witch #witch reader #witch craft #sunshine x grumpy #romance #fantasy #bloody mary #urban legends #mystery #mirror #fun facts #the hunter and the witch

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happi-tree · 10 months

Text

i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I don’t know what came over me, you’re just so hurt and I was so scared and I didn’t know what to do and -”

Link cuts himself off as he glances up from Taylor’s still-glazed expression to his forehead. Before his eyes, the gash stitches itself closed, the open wound fading to a pink scar that pales to white before disappearing entirely.

Lincoln remembers hearing the words “kiss it better” throughout his entire childhood. He remembers the way his dads would patch up his scraped knees with ointment and a bandage and top it all off with a tiny kiss before treating him to a hard candy from their first aid kit for being such a good boy.

Never once had Link thought that the phrase could be literal. Or that his newfound powers could make it literal.

Or: Link discovers a rather unorthodox way of using Lay On Hands thanks to one Taylor Swift, and for some reason, he can’t seem to stop finding excuses to perfect his new skills. Fortunately, Taylor is more than happy to help.

once / twice / thrice, pt. 1 / thrice, pt. 2

twice (‘cause it’s gonna be alright)

The second time it happens, it’s not an accident.

Taylor invited Link to his house on the pretense of doing homework together (who knew saving the world meant having so many late assignments?) and maybe watching some anime later.

It had taken Link some convincing at first, but Taylor thinks he’s finally got him hooked on Blue Lock: Keyed Up!!! (which is good, considering it’s the only soccer anime that Taylor’s watched).

Unfortunately, though, homework comes first. Which sucks, because there are about a million and one better things that a protagonist like him could be doing, but he doesn’t want to worry his mom about his grades slipping any further.

Plus, Taylor missed an additional afternoon’s worth of classes yesterday for a long-overdue orthodontist appointment (his jaw aches at the reminder), so he has extra extra make-up work. Ugh.

At least Link’s passable at science. Normally, Scary could make up some pretty good answers for all of them for their English work, but she’s out recording some stuff for Erica’s podcast. Normal has cheer practice, so Taylor doesn’t really have much hope for his pile of Spanish worksheets, but at the very least, he and Link are making progress.

Very slow progress.

Taylor accidentally clenches his jaw a little too hard, and the ache in his teeth intensifies from there-but-tolerable to fucking-hell-it-feels-like-someone-is-wrenching-my-upper-jaw-in-two-holy-shit.

He makes a quiet, whimpering sort of noise, and Link looks up from his work immediately, eyebrows all scrunched together and lips downturned in concern. It would be cute if Taylor could focus on anything other than the agony plaguing his mouth.

“You okay, dude?” he asks, shifting closer on Taylor’s king-size mattress.

“Nnnnnnn,” Taylor moans, shaking his head ever so slightly and flopping back against the pillows dramatically (but carefully, so as not to accidentally make the pain worse somehow). “Teeth hurt.”

“Oh, right, you got your braces adjusted yesterday,” Link gently moves their notebooks and laptops to the side, where they won’t get crushed.

Taylor’s eyes squeeze shut as he tries to do anything but focus on the ache. “Mmm,” he confirms. “And I think maybe my fangs might be growing in? Hard to tell, but I keep accidentally cutting my tongue on my canines, so I think they’re getting sharper.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Link says, and the sincerity in his voice brings a smile to Taylor’s face, which he cuts off with a wince because fuck, ow, that hurt.

“Would be cooler if my entire mouth didn’t hurt like hell, though,” Taylor grumbles.

He opens his eyes to find Link hovering over him, looking worried and… hesitant?

“Jeez, Link, I’m not dying or anything. The torment is endless and the agony neverending, but I will persevere! Ah, fuck,” Taylor mutters, pressing a hand to his cheek, which only seems to make matters worse.

Link’s still looking at him like that, though, so he makes grabby hands to beckon him closer.

“Cuddles would maybe help, though, if you’re just gonna sit there,” he offers.

“I can work with that,” Link says, laughing a little under his breath and leaning back on the pillows beside him.

He opens up his arms and Taylor wedges himself between them, tucking his head under Link’s chin and burying the top portion of his face into his chest, right below his collarbones. He inhales, trying to focus on the smell of laundry detergent and fresh-cut grass and sports deodorant and sweat and something uniquely Link rather than the pain in his jaw, and it works a little.

Link’s arms come around to encircle him, and while Taylor can feel stifled by skin-to-skin contact (he already has enough trouble regulating his own body heat without throwing someone else’s into the mix), the way Link holds him feels… nice. Protective. Link begins to trace tiny, meaningless circles into his back with his thumbs through the fabric of Taylor’s shirt, and the sensation grounds him.

Taylor quietly realizes that he hasn’t felt this safe in a long time.

His mouth still hurts like a bitch, though.

As if on cue, another pulse of pain floods his mouth, and Taylor instinctively clenches his jaw against the feeling, which in hindsight was pretty stupid because it makes the ache intensify tenfold. Taylor lets out a whine into Link’s chest, clutching helplessly at his best friend’s shirt.

He fantasizes somewhat deliriously about taking his teeth and chucking them out of his face where they can’t hurt him.

“That seems like it must be pretty painful,” Link says sadly.

“Nnnnnnnngh,” Taylor replies because yeah, no shit, Sherlock-kun.

“You know,” Link starts out, tone still soft but much more considering, more nervous. Taylor can feel the vibration of Link’s voice against the top of his head, right where it’s pressed against his taller friend’s throat. “I think I can fix that, if you want.”

Taylor pulls away a bit, and Link loosens his hold to allow for some space.

“Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?” Taylor asks. “I know I look totally awesome and composed on the outside, but I am fucking perishing inside. Yes, please, whatever your idea is, I will literally do anything. What were you thinking of, though?”

“Well,” Link says, voice pitching high, “I was thinking, I could, uh. Kiss it better? Like I did last week, if you remember that?” He looks briefly down at Taylor, as he says this, scanning his face for… something. “Oh my god, it would be so embarrassing if you didn’t remember that. Never mind, this is so stupid, sorry, forget I said anything.”

Except Taylor doesn’t really hear that last part because he’s too busy reliving the feeling of Link’s chapped lips pressed against his temple, callused hands cradling the back of his head, big brown eyes that look like black holes in the darkness of sun-off threatening to swallow Taylor completely.

Does Taylor remember last week? That’s like asking someone if they remember that the sky is red. Taylor remembers last week annoyingly well, and he keeps remembering it, and the scene plays and replays as the hellfire within his ribcage flares and the heat rises and he looks up at Link who’s still working himself into some anxiety-ridden ramble and -

Cool it, cool it, part of his mind whispers to him.

Link offered to kiss me, an irritatingly large amount of his brain shrieks back at him, uncool and uncharacteristically nervous and taking up more mental real estate by the second. Boy hugging me boy touching me boy kissing me?

You just need to calm down, the more rational part of his brain assuages. You’re Taylor Swift, you’ve got this.

I’m Taylor Swift, I’ve got this. Taylor mentally chants, strongarming the fire in his chest and turning the flame down to something a bit more bearable. I’ve got this. I’m popular, I’m icy cool, and anyone would be lucky to kiss me. I’ve got this.

Brain successfully rebooted, Taylor nudges at Link’s shoulder, stopping his friend’s mutterings in their tracks.

“As long as you haven’t talked yourself out of it, I’m, like, totally down if you’re still offering. You severely underestimate how desperate I am for pain relief.”

“Oh,” Link says, eyebrows drawn up in surprise. Then, “Really?”

“Yeah, oh,” Taylor echoes back. “Really. The only thing is… don’t you usually have to touch whatever’s hurt for it to work? And like, it’s my teeth, so…”

“Yeah, and?” Link prompts, like he isn’t quite seeing any problem with that and.

Oh.

Oh, Link means kissing kissing. Like, on the mouth. And to get at Taylor’s teeth… that’s like making-out-kissing. Oh, god. Oh my god, okay. This is fine. Sure! Great.

“Oh,” Taylor says aloud. Then, “Okay!”

“Are you sure? About this?” Link questions, searching Taylor’s expression even as he places a slightly-clammy hand to Taylor’s cheek, even as Taylor’s face feels like it lights on fire in response. The clear concern in the upturn of his brows and the gleam in his dark eyes has Taylor humming in assent before he realizes what he’s doing and placing his hand atop Link’s larger one, holding him there as Taylor’s gaze is drawn to his slightly parted lips.

“For the love of god, Link, just kiss me already.”

“Okay,” Lincoln says, quiet and slightly unsteady. And he closes the gap.

It’s clear that this is Link’s first kiss, and Taylor’s pretty sure Link can tell that it’s the first time he’s kissed someone, too (well, someone that isn’t his body pillows).

Link’s lips feel softer against Taylor’s than they had against his forehead. He’s tentative and shy and exceedingly gentle, and Taylor’s unsure if that’s out of the fear of causing him undue pain or if it’s just who Link is, but he appreciates it either way.

Link’s thumb strokes delicately across Taylor’s cheek, almost reverently, like he’s afraid that Taylor will break apart in his arms if he doesn’t treat him with care. Link’s other hand comes to rest at the side of his neck, threading through the hair that’s escaped Taylor’s topknot, and the feeling of it paired with the light press of Link’s lips against his own draws another humming sound from his throat.

Taylor tries his best to reciprocate, mouth pliant against Link’s, free hand fisting in the soft, slippery fabric of his best friend’s shirt and tugging gently as if to bring him in even closer. His other hand moves from atop Link’s to cradle the back of his head and run his fingers through his close-cropped hair.

Link makes a low, soft sort of noise that will no doubt be replaying for weeks on end in Taylor’s head. God, he needs to hear that sound again.

Sadly, though, they’ve run out of air, and Lincoln pulls away only to lean back in and carefully rest his forehead against Taylor’s.

Taylor’s eyelids blink open (oh, he had closed them, when had that happened?) and he comes face-to-face with Link, brown eyes deep and dark, half-lidded and half-dazed, staring directly at him with open affection. His hand still rests on Taylor’s cheek, and Taylor can feel the stark temperature difference there, anxiety-chilled and demonically-overheated, as something flutters hard in his chest.

“Uh, wow,” Link says, quiet and very breathless, and God, who gave him the right to be so beautiful and so adorable at the same time?

Taylor draws his lip in between his teeth and is greeted with a sharp stab of pain.

“Ow, fuck, shit,” Taylor hisses, scooching back to put more distance between the two of them. “Guess that didn’t work, but thanks for trying, Link. You out of spell slots or something?”

With Link’s complexion, it can be difficult to tell when his friend is flushed or flustered, but his wide eyes and cringing expression definitely come across as embarrassed.

“No,” he replies, voice a few octaves higher than normal. “I, uh, forgot? To do the spell.”

At Taylor’s quirked eyebrow, Link elaborates, “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t accidentally hurt you more, and then I got so wrapped up in that that I guess I forgot, and then you did that thing with your hand in my hair, and -” he cuts himself off with a whine, covering his eyes with a hand and dramatically rolling over, the picture of mortification. “Kill me now.”

Taylor laughs, loud and sudden and sharp despite the pain, and Lincoln curls a little further into himself.

“I can just, uh - I made it weird, I can just go, I guess?” Link says in that reedy, nervous way of his, voice cracking toward the end as he sits up, moves to stand -

“Dude,” Taylor clambers across the mattress after him, grabs his wrist. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I-“ Link gestures with his thumb toward the door. “Home? I mean, I screwed up, and you laughed, and now you probably think I’m so stupid and-“

“Hold up, handsome,” where did that pet name come from - “I wasn’t laughing at you- I mean! I was,” Taylor watches as Link’s expression droops further “- but not to make fun of you! It’s just…” Come on, just say it, you’ve never had trouble speaking your mind before - “endearing.”

Link looks more confused and anxious than anything, but that’s better than sad and anxious, so Taylor takes that as a win.

“Plus, you’re not getting away from me that easy, Li-Wilson,” He adds, tugging his friend a little closer. Link doesn’t resist it.

Taylor allows a smile to pull at his lips, only flinching a little bit at the pain he now expects. “You can try again, you know,” he offers, looking up at Link through his lashes.

“I can?” His friend asks, skin flushed darker across his cheeks. “I didn’t make it too awkward?”

“Nope!” Taylor responds, popping the “p.”

“Nothing awkward about a good old-fashioned makeout session with your best friend!”

“Best friend,” Link echoes, “Right…”

“C’mon,” Taylor goads, crooking a finger toward him as he smirks. “I don’t bite.”

Taylor’s gaze lowers from Link’s face and rests at the side of his friend’s neck, taking note of the sparse freckles there. His teeth feel a little heavier in his mouth.

“Not unless you want me to,” he murmurs.

“What?” Link asks, sounding strangled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taylor evades.

“If you’re really sure -“

“I am,” Taylor confirms, moving to sit half-gracelessly in his friend’s lap, hands steadying his weight on Link’s strong shoulders. “Now, less tally-talky, more smoochy-smoochy!”

“So demanding,” Link teases, even as he threads his fingers through his hair again. Taylor can hear the smile in his voice without having to look - which is good, because if he did, he’s pretty sure he’d give into the impulse to kiss the curve of his lips without preamble.

“You bet.” Taylor’s voice comes out much breathier than he expects as he meets Link’s eyes. “Don’t forget the spell this time!”

“I won’t! Probably.”

Just like before, Link leans in again, and a slight smile pulls at Taylor’s lips as he meets him halfway.

The sensation of Link’s lips against his own is a little less foreign now, a little less startling. Taylor lets himself melt into it, and just before he closes his eyes he can see the adorable little furrow of concentration between Link’s brows that he gets whenever he’s casting something.

Kissing his best friend tastes like vanilla chapstick and Taylor’s favorite soda. Link had snagged a bottle of lychee Ramune out of his hands earlier, saying something about how carbonation was bad for braces and offering his homemade sports drink instead (which hadn’t tasted too great but wasn’t quite as bad as Taylor had expected). Taylor finds that he doesn’t really mind, now - not when the flavor is even more addictive this way.

Link’s hands come up to cradle the sides of Taylor’s face like some sort of fairytale prince, firm and gentle and insistent all at once. The soft pressure of his friend’s fingertips ghosts along the jut of his jawline, and it’s almost worshipful, like Link sees Taylor as someone to be adored.

The tenderness of it all sends a thrill down Taylor’s spine, and then the chill spreads, unfurling itself through every nerve.

Taylor has been on the receiving end of Link’s magic before, but he’s rarely lucid enough to appreciate it, to bask in the comforting coolness his friend’s Lay On Hands brings. It’s less like running an open cut under cold water and more like a fresh breeze in the middle of a stagnant summer afternoon, he thinks, something blissful and relieving that reminds him of safety, just like the boy he’s kissing. He falls forward into the embrace - both the spell and Link’s affection - as his hands tangle themselves in the back of Link’s athletic shirt, chasing the feeling. Link’s magic is a deeply soothing sensation, a balm to Taylor’s flushed cheeks and fire-bright nerves and burning heart, and he can feel himself melt in Link’s hold, his thoughts reducing to little more than a warm haze against his lips.

Link pulls away after what probably amounted to only a few moments, and Taylor leans after him on instinct. His eyes flutter open just in time to see Link gazing down at him fondly through his lashes, the last dregs of his magic sparking across his irises in anvil-sharp flashes of bronze before fizzling out entirely. His lips are slightly kiss-bruised, and it sends a jolt of satisfaction through Taylor’s stomach as he realizes that he did that.

“Did it work this time?” Link asks him, still cradling Taylor’s face in his hands, thumbs still grazing lightly across his cheeks.

It takes a few seconds for Taylor to register the question, then a few more as he prods at the back of his teeth with his tongue, clenches his jaw experimentally.

“Looks like it!” He confirms happily, though his joy sours a bit as Link’s hands leave his face to lean back on his arms, mourning the loss of contact.

“You’re a genius, Link,” Taylor praises, smiling and then smiling wider when he realizes that he feels no pain whatsoever. “Think you could do that again whenever my joints are acting up?”

He doesn’t really mean it - of course, a bigger part of him than he’d like to admit does, but his tone was supposed to come off as teasing - but Link’s eyes go wide and his cheeks darken further, and maybe Taylor wouldn’t mind at all if his friend takes that one hundred percent seriously.

“I- I mean, if you want t- If it’d help?” He fumbles, face flushing further as he stutters. It’s pretty commonplace to see Link a bit flustered, but it’s different when Taylor knows that he’s the reason for it. It’s pretty cute, in his opinion.

“It’d do more than help. Chronic pain sucks ass, but you’d be, like, my personal angel,” Taylor says, looking up at Link.

You already are, his mind adds for him.

“Sure, then. Anytime. Uh, that’s what friends are for, right?” Link asks, those big brown eyes of his searching Taylor’s face for something.

He said “anytime”, is Taylor’s only coherent thought, one that runs giddy circles in his brain. I kissed Lincoln Li-Wilson. Twice. I just kissed my best friend twice. He said he’d kiss me again. God, I want to kiss him again.

“Mm,” Taylor half-responds, still reeling from the way Link’s hands carded through his hair and smoothed over his cheeks and the way their lips slotted together.

“Oh,” Taylor hears Link say distantly. “Okay, that’s, um. Okay.”

“Mm,” Taylor hums again, still in the process of rebooting what’s left of his brain.

A hand waves in front of Taylor’s face. “Taylor? You okay there, buddy? Did I do the spell wrong somehow? Please tell me I didn’t break you.”

You can break me anytime, Taylor thinks, mind conjuring images he definitely should not be having this close to the subject of his fantasies.

Taylor shakes his head in attempt to clear them. “All good, my man! Just, uh, thinking.” He desperately hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Wanna get back to homework, then?” Link says, gesturing to the pile of notebooks. “I think one of our make-up quizzes is due tonight.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that. We should probably get back to studying, huh.” He scoots away from Link to grab a notebook and his laptop, and for once in his life he misses the body heat of having a person next to him.

“Okay,” Link says, patting the empty space next to him and propping himself up against Taylor’s headboard.Taylor complies, settling himself into place at his side and handing him a pen (ballpoint, blue ink, Link’s favorite kind). He finds his own (a click pen, black gel ink) after a few moments of feeling around on the comforter.

“We’re still on chapter seven, right?” He asks, chewing on the end of his pen as he attempts to decipher the chicken scratch that is his own handwriting.

“Unfortunately,” Link sighs, slinging his left arm around Taylor’s shoulders.

As Taylor leans into Link’s side, he thinks that even though make-up work is bound to be hell, there are much less fortunate things than this. He smiles to himself, and it doesn’t hurt one bit.

#YEEHAW. ao3 may be down but my wild fic posting methods continue <333 #also!!! ty to everyone for being so patient about this!!! hope y'all like part 2! :Dc #as before. title from paper rings taylor swift!#hopefully i did not accidentally make 5000 billion mistakes in this and things are kinda sorta in character ahsvdhkasvdvs #dndads #swiftli #fic #happi scribbles

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13tinysocks · 2 months

Note

hey dude! What's up :)) been just a little since l've said something

Initially, this is me saying thank you and goodbye

This isn't supposed to be a weird pity story, so l'm so unbelievably sorry if it comes off that way, lol.

When I began reading your work, I was enamoured with fiction because of personal issues (as many usually are, honestly, I know I'm one of god knows how many people trying to run away from life for just a second with fanfics or media in general). I don't know if I will ever be able to communicate this properly, hell, this will even be unbelievable funny or dramatic but I need to get this across because it's coming from a genuine place. Your stories and work thus far has brought me comfort, immense heaps of it, and even still when I deal with things that feel out of reach or too much to actually face head on I find myself wandering back to syg or just your blog in general

I mean this, from my entire heart, thank you and thank Bee. A million times thank you, for making that one silly silly stupid piece of fanfiction, because oh my god it got me through some major stressful hardships within my life for the past 3 years.

I am leaving tumblr, however I’m aware I have submitted asks with my actual accounts before, so you'll likely be able to see they're still gonna be up. I'm just deleting tumblr the app instead of my account, but for other social platforms they will be deleted properly (such as quotev) so I won’t be indulging in much reading anymore when it comes to fanfics and such lol

I don't know if I'll come back, if I do I likely will not be back for long or to be as active as l've been because of the toll social media’s taken. So even as ridiculous as this feels, to tell someone I’m simply a fan of and barely truly know, that their fanfic of murderers and their love story with my self insert kept me pushing through a lot of tough days, I genuinely just had to.

I needed to thank both you and your partner for the work you've both put out. I still have that smiley pin I’d made, and I will cherish what you made quotev have been for me ( I literally found out about the website during early or late 2020 I can barely remember, then later found your fic, I was DEEP DIVING into that shit LMAO )

I hope whatever happens for you and bee in the future is only good, and I only will wish nothing but the best of luck with everything man.

feel free to post this (idk what it’s called but when you publicly reply lol) or not, as long as you read this it’ll mean lots to me !! >:))

your coolest weirdest ticci toby fan whose also named toby, 🐚 annon

I always struggle to convey gratefulness for messages like this and readership- especially repeated readership. My life would be different if it were not for comments and messages egging us on to keep writing from syg to ho1c. While it's easy to say that writing is solely out of passion for the craft there is also the drive to share something with others. Hearing those others loud or quiet as a favorite- does push us forward when we have no motivation or desire to work. That drive has made us closer as a couple, better thinkers, and a halfway decent writing team. I thank you and all the others who send us stuff even if it's shit post asks I never answer because I like having them in my inbox like a personal horde of platonic Valentine's. I like keeping the pieces you give me to myself sometimes. I know it may seem like I'm ignoring you but I find genuine comfort in these messages. That there are so many. That they are so varied. That we have reached beyond our shut-in existence to touch the lives of others.

I find myself wondering where an anon has gone when I do not hear from them in awhile. I wish them well. I wish them better standards than us.

Maybe we'll meet again someday space cowboy. If you're ever back in town feel free to shoot me (a message).

Thank you for reaching out. Thank you for reading. I wish you peace and love and good books.

#though i may be inactive as of lates my thoughts have not been #abby and i talk about you #abby and i talk about a lot of you #we are happy to be present day comforts or 2020 nostalgia #🐚#anon #reply #long post

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anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount · 1 year

Text

Come Take A Break With Me

My Masterlist

Pairing(s): Pietro Maximoff x Fem!ADHD!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex, medication, and unhealthy eating and drinking habits. Maybe a bit of swearing, but I’m not sure.

Word Count: 752

Summary: When Pietro realizes that you’ve been so busy writing you haven’t taken care of yourself, he convinces you to take a break with him.

“Where’s Y/N?” Pietro asked Peter at the dinner table. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

Peter stabbed his fork into his bowl of pasta. “I think she’s in the library, said something about working on a deadline.”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “A self-imposed one, I bet. Oh my darling princessa never knows when to stop. Her adoring fans will be there no matter how long it takes her to get another fic out. They know she has a life.”

“Are you gonna go get her?” Peter asked.

“I’ll wait until after dinner, she won’t want to eat with everyone if she’s in the middle of her hyperfixation.” Pietro said, twirling his fork around. “When was the last time you saw her?”

Peter finished chewing before answering. “Two days ago?”

“She hasn’t taken her pills!” Pietro exclaimed, rushing to your room to grab your pills before heading to the library in the compound. “Princessa? Are you in here?”

You looked up, hearing Pietro call for you. “Piet? What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. How long have you been down here?”

“A couple of hours, I think.” You said, shrugging before turning back to your laptop.

FRIDAY picked that moment to chime in, “Miss L/N has been down here for 2 days without eating, drinking, sleeping, or taking her meds, Mr. Maximoff.”

“Princessa? I leave for a one day mission and you don’t take care of yourself for two? What in the everloving hell is this? Why another self-imposed deadline when you know that your followers will just be happy to see that you’re active? You’ve made it clear to them that you have a real and very pressing lifestyle outside of the computer, and you aren’t writing any series’ so there’s not a rush to get out the next chapter either.”

You looked down, embarrassed to have forgotten the most basic human needs while Pietro was away. “‘M sorry.” You said quietly, subtly wiping at your eyes.

Pietro rushed to your side, holding your hands in his. “Hey, princessa, I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I just worry because I know you can forget sometimes. Why don’t you finish your idea and then we can go upstairs and get some food, drink, and sleep? I brought you your meds. Come take a break with me.” He told you, kissing the back of both your hands.

“I love you, Piet.” You said, nodding gently. “Yeah, um, this fic really just needs me to step away, I’ve been killing myself trying to write it for weeks when all I really want to write is the next thing on my list. But I really want this done first, so I think it’s done, but I should come back to the fic later, in a different mindset.”

“More fed and rested.” Pietro said, pulling you in for a hug and resting his chin on top of your head.

“Exactly. I’ll bring my laptop upstairs with me and edit the fic in the morning before I post it.”

He kissed your forehead gently before asking you a serious question. “Did you not notice that you were hungry?”

“You know how I get.” You replied.

“Oh, I do. But you didn’t notice you were hungry for two days?”

You kissed each of his cheeks softly. “Well, now that you mention it, I’m starving. What did Wanda make for dinner?”

“Some pasta dish, I don’t know, I probably let mine get cold rushing down here.” He replied, handing you your meds.

“A quick dinner and then we can cuddle, okay? I know you don’t sleep as well without me and you must’ve noticed I never came to bed last night.”

Pietro laughed, kissing all over your face. “You know me too well, princessa.” He zoomed the two of you upstairs. “Eat and then bed, okay?”

“Make sure you soundproof the room this time.” Tony remarked dryly, glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“She hasn’t slept in two days, we won’t need soundproofing to sleep, Stark.” Pietro said, taking up a bowl of dinner for you.

You rested your head on your hands, with your elbows on the table innocently looking at Tony, “Well, maybe we’ll just have to show you how loud Piet can be another time then, Tone.”

“Oh, princessa, I think you’re getting the two of us mixed up.” Pietro said, placing your bowl in front of you and sitting next to you.

“We’ll have to test and see, baby.”

Taglist: @chrisevansdaughter, @buckybarnesandmarvel, @sarahrogersevans, @nana1000night

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#fem!reader #adhd!reader #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x fem!adhd!reader #reader is bad at taking care of herself #so pietro reminds her that he always will #mentions of sex #but there isn't actually any sex #afmfa writes

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anangelwhodidntfall · 2 years

Text

Suffer In Silence II: Eddie Munson

Stranger Things Masterlist

word count: 934

description: Y/N hears Eddie say how he really feels about her which gives her the motivation to finally let him know that you feel that same way

It had been a few weeks since Eddie got to see how sentimental and caring you were towards him when you thought he was sleeping and he couldn't get it out of his mind. He begin thinking that maybe you did feel the same way as he did and thought about telling you the truth about how he really felt.

Eddie went to school day hoping maybe to test the waters a little more with you but you weren't there which made him frown because where were you today, you never missed school. By the time lunch came he was already to ditch so he could go see where you were. He reached your house and knocked on the door, where you answered the door wrapped up in a blanket.

"Jesus, you look like crap, are you feeling okay?" He asked walking in.

"Wow that's whatever girl wants to hear Eds, but seriously I'm fine.....it's just mother nature paying me a visit." You said taking a seat on the couch.

"Ohhhh.....Do you need anything?" He asked.

"Umm honestly I could go for some snacks, my mom is supposed to stop by the store after work tonight but I don't think I can wait that long." You said.

"Say no more...I can go grab us some snacks and whatnot and we can watch some movies if you are up to it." He said as you nodded your head.

"Thanks, Eds." You said as he left.

While waiting for Eddie to return with your snacks, you felt the aspirin you had taken finally kick and make you feel sleepy, so you got up and headed to your room and got comfortable figuring a quick power nap wouldn't hurt before he returned.

Eddie returned about ten minutes into your nap and found you fast asleep in your room making him smile as he brushed some of your hair out of your face. He sat next to you admiring how peaceful you looked in your sleep while you had woken up when you felt him touch your face and were planning on getting him back for what he did a couple of weeks ago when you heard him start speaking.

"Look I know you are sleeping right now but I just wanted to tell you that I love you and have been in love with you for a while now, and I know you probably don't feel the same way as I do and I'm okay with that but I just needed to tell you."

You were honestly too stunned to do anything, you weren't honestly expecting to hear Eddie pour his heart out to you and it was killing you not to be able to let you know he felt the same because you felt like it was an invasion of privacy to be awake right now. You forced yourself back to sleep for another thirty minutes while thinking about how you were gonna tell Eddie how you felt without letting him know that you knew how he felt.

"Hey sleepyhead, how are you feeling?" He asked as you started waking up.

"A bit better, sorry for falling asleep." You said sitting up next to him.

"No need to apologize, I figured you were going to fall asleep at some point." He said offering you a small smile.

It was a couple of days later when you and Eddie were watching Porky's II when you two would finally land on the topic and give the gateway to tell Eddie how you felt.

"So can I ask you, something sweetheart?" Eddie asked you as you nodded your head at him to continue.

"Why haven't you gone out with any of those guys that have asked?" He asked you.

"Uh none of them are my type plus I've kinda my eye on someone for a while now." You said.

"And whose that? And why haven't you asked them out yet?" He asked you with his eyebrow raised.

"Well he's this guy I've known forever and he is probably one of the biggest sweethearts I know. He's got the prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen that I find myself getting lost in a lot, he's a talented musician and D&D player even if I can't understand the game 90% of the time, and I didn't know how to tell him because I didn't want to risk our friendship if he didn't feel the same way." You said looking at him.

"Trust me he's felt the same way for years...he's had that same fear for years but now he's see's what a mistake that was." He said as you realized how close your faces were now.

"Well is he gonna kiss me or do I got take charge in that aspect too?" You mused with a smile as you felt him cup your face, feeling the cold metal of rings on your face.

When your lips touched his, it was everything you imagined and more as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You two stayed like that for a few minutes until you had to pull apart for oxygen.

"That was...better than I imagined." He said making you laugh at him.

"So does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?" He asked looking at you.

"Hmm, I might need more kisses to make a decision like that." You said making him shake his head with a laugh as he gave you a couple of pecks and one long kiss.

"I would nothing more than to be your girlfriend officially" You said looking at him with a smile and watching as his own smile grew more.

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader

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garbbitch · 4 hours

Text

you stood me up!

jb x reader

angst, fluff

julien was working on her next album, spending long hours at the studio and working. you were as supportive as you could’ve been. she was working a lot and getting a lot more pissy a lot more often. like, you guys had fought a lot in the last month after being together for a few years.

[flashback]

one night she came from home from the studio but you were still at work, she knew you were gonna be, she knew that you were gonna be later than usual. that morning you guys agreed that she was gonna cook dinner to make everyone’s life a little easier. except when she got home that day, she got in bed, and just went to sleep.

you came in from work exceptionally tired from a long boring meeting with the board of directors of your company. when you came in and saw there was no sign of anything being done in the kitchen you started to worry.

“julien? are you home?” you called as you took off your shoes by the door. you didn’t even see her usual converse by the door.

she said nothing. you huffed and walked to your bedroom where you saw julien laying on the bed asleep. you knew she was working hard and honestly felt bad for her. you gently woke her up.

“baby, are you alright?” you asked gently as your stroked her hair.

“fuck— i was supposed to cook. i’m sorry.” she said as she started to get up. you didn’t wanna stress her more than necessary so you offered to help her cook. she declined and ran to the kitchen. you shrugged it off before changing into some comfier clothes before joining her in the kitchen.

“it’s not like you to get in bed so early, are you feeling ok?” you asked as you made yourself some tea to soothe your lingering headache from work.

“i’m fine.” she said in a tone that made you do a double take. you could tell she wasn’t in the best mood.

“well, if you had told me you were too tired i would’ve picked up takeout or something.” you said gently, not wanting to stir the pot any further.

“fuck—“ she said softly, “i can’t keep you updated on my every fucking emotion yn.” she snapped. you were taken aback by her words.

“woah, i didn’t say—“ you started.

“you were gonna.” she cut you off. you eyed her as she cooked, she didn’t face you.

“no i wasn’t, julien.” you said back, she turned off the burner and went back into your shared bedroom, slamming the door. what the fuck just happened? you stood there in shock for a moment. you looked at the half cooked food and you decide to let her think about whatever was causing her bad mood and finish cooking yourself.

[end of flashback]

lately, you guys had a lot of little petty arguments. about walking the dogs, what kind of food they were eating, your work schedule. you name it yall had a petty argument about it. lucy had told you guys you needed a date night after hearing yall fight one too many times. you guys liked the idea and settled for a night the two of you weren’t working.

it was a monday night, you both knew it was a weird night to go out but you figured any restaurants would be less crowded.

you got home early, around 4:30 and you got ready for your date that was supposed to be at 6. she still hadn’t got home at 5 and you sent her a text.

yn: hey baby, you leaving work soon?

she didn’t respond till 5:45.

jb: yeah, something is running later than expected, take an uber there. i’ll be there soon.

you got to the restaurant at 6:10 due to the uber being later than you expected. you waited outside the restaurant for her. you waited and waited and waited.

you texted her at 6:15.

yn: are you almost here?

you called her at 6:20. she didn’t answer, you started to realize she wasn’t coming. you waited another 10 minutes and you called her again at 6:30. you got no response.

yn: i’m going home.

julien saw that final text and felt her stomach drop to her toes. she knew she fucked up, but there was a specific sound she was trying to get in the studio and nothing was working the way she wanted it to. she knew she fucked up.

at home you took off your makeup, took off your cute clothes and threw your new lingerie you bought for tonight in the closet somewhere. you put on a hoodie that was no doubt hers and a pair of shorts, you curled up on the couch with some ice cream and watched crappy tv.

around 6:50 you heard the door open behind you. you didn’t turn around to see who it was. you knew it was julien, you could tell by the way the floor creaked under her step.

“baby— i’m so sorry. i fucked up bad.” she said gently as she walked over to the couch.

you turned to face her, your makeup smudged and what mascara you couldn’t get off running down your cheeks.

“baby— talk to me.” she pleaded with you. you sighed and placed the ice cream on the coffee table.

“you stood me up, jb.” you said softly, sounding hurt. it wasn’t so much the fact that she stood you up, it was all the constant arguing that was happening lately combined with the getting stood up.

“i know baby— and i’m sorry.” she said, she sat down on the couch, she was trying to get on your level. you met her gaze.

“do you still love me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. her face fell as she realized how badly she fucked up.

“of course i do.” she said gently, she moved a hand to cup your cheek. “i know i’ve been very tense lately and i took it out on you a lot. and i’m sorry. but i still love you so so so much.” she said as she stroked your cheek.

“you’ve been fighting with me all the time and then when we finally have time to be together you leave me stranded.” you said, feeling fed up. “do you do that to the people you love? would you do that to lucy and phoebe?” you accused. she was dumbfounded by your words.

“no- i-i wouldn’t. but they also understand my job. you don’t.” she said back to you, you were both tense now.

“what, cause i can’t afford custom gucci suits i don’t ‘get’ you? has it ever occurred to you that maybe you don’t get me?” you snapped. you started to walk away. she gently grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“what do you even mean by that?” she asked you.

“you’ve never worked a real job in your life, jb, c’mon. you don’t get me, just like i could never get you. guess we should just fuckin break up, right?” you snapped again, taking your wrist from her grasp. she opened her mouth like she was gonna say something but closed it.

“yn, baby, i fucked up but, it’s not worth ending what we have. and you do get me. better than anyone. i shouldn’t have said that.” she said gently.

“what exactly do we have?” you snapped, you were really tired of all of the fighting. “cause lately, all we have are arguments, julien.” you said before she could answer.

“no we don’t.” she said, trying to plead with you.

“oh really? what happened when i had to work late? you picked a fight about me asking how you were doing.. and when i fed the dogs a different food you basically called me dumb. hell, you know it’s bad when lucy is trying to tell us we need to go on a date night to relieve some tension.” you spoke quickly. she knew you were right.

she sighed. “your right.” she said softly sounding defeated. “but i love you so much baby, even if i haven’t shown it lately. i really am sorry i’ve been so terrible lately.” she spoke gently and stepped a little closer to you.

you shook your head. “i don’t like feeling like i need to walk around on eggshells julien.” it dawned on you why she was acting this way, “did you stop taking your meds?” you asked gently. her blood ran cold.

“n-no i uh— i can explain” she stuttered.

“oh my god— julien, you can’t just do that.” you sighed, you wanted to still be angry with her but you knew that her attitude had a reason, and a good one at that. “you can’t go off your meds, especially when you’re working so much.” you said gently.

“i’m just trying to write good music.” she admitted softly. you shook your head.

“julien, you and i both know that’s not how that works.” you said gently, she started to protest. “ah ah— tell me, have you written anything you like since you stopped taking it?” you asked.

“i- no.” she said sounding defeated.

“please go back to taking them. please.” you said gently.

“fine.” she said softly. “can i she a hug from my favorite girl?” she asked gently as she held her arms open.

you hugged her tightly. “i’m sorry i stood you up baby. let’s try again, yeah?” she asked gently as she stroked your back.

#julien baker fluff #julien baker x reader #julien baker angst

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atlafan · 2 years

Text

Everything Will Be Alright - One Shot

a/n: hiiiiii I’m posting this here (don’t make me regret it for the love of god reblog it)

Summary: Nikki gets told to see a neurologist for something that should have been a simple, routine eye exam. Harry is the neurologist that she ends up seeing.

Warnings: neurological tingz, fluff, and smut

Words: 7.8K

“Just to be on the safe side, I think you should get an MRI so we can rule out a brain tumor.”

Nikki blacked out after that. Too many big words were being thrown at her by her eye doctor. She couldn’t comprehend anything. She didn’t know what questions to ask. He was showing her pictures of the backs of her eyes from this visit compared to last year’s. Something about her veins being swollen? Something looking blurrier? Her doctor asks her if she gets headaches. Who the fuck doesn’t get headaches? Who the fuck doesn’t get eye strain from looking at screens all day?

“We’ll send the referral over, then the hospital will call you to set up the MRI.”

She just nods. She gets up and leaves, and continues on autopilot until she gets back home. She was supposed to go to work after her appointment. That’s not happening now. No, now she’s near convulsing as she cries into the pillow on her bed. Her dog is cuddled up next to her to help soothe her, but nothing can comfort her at this moment.

Four Months Later

Insurance companies, referrals, PCP’s…it’s such a flawed system. The hospital didn’t get the paperwork from the eye doctor. It was two months of back and forth, and then they couldn’t get her an appointment for a consult until two months after that. A consult. Not even the MRI itself! She figured it must not be an emergency if her eye doctor didn’t demand she get the MRI right away.

Today is finally the day of her consult. She’s to see a neurologist, and they’ll assess whether she needs an MRI or not. She checks in with the neurology receptionist at the hospital. It isn’t long before a nurse calls her in. Her vitals are taken, and she answers a few questions.

Then she’s alone in the exam room. Her leg bounces with anxiety as she waits for the doctor.

Ten minutes later, there’s a light knock on the door.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr. Styles, I’m one of the residents here.” He reaches out to shake Nikki’s hand before sitting down. “I’m a third-year resident, hoping to be an attending here next year, so I promise you’re in good hands. If you’d feel more comfortable having the attending doctor in, I can go get him.” He opens his laptop and looks up Nikki’s record. “Right, so why are you here?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It’s like the last four months have been a dam, and this doctor just broke it. She bursts into tears, and covers her face with her hands.

“Oh, god.” Dr. Styles frowns, and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, take a deep breath, yeah? It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles and shakes her head. She looks up at him. “I’ve just been so stressed about this for months.” She takes a deep breath. She sees his badge. His name is Harry. “I’m Nikki.”

“Hi, Nikki.” He smiles warmly. “I’d say you can call me Harry, but that’s not very professional. Can you try to tell me why you’re seeing me today?”

“My eye doctor told me I needed an MRI.”

“Alright, and how did that go?”

“I haven’t had it yet! I was told I had to come see a neurologist for a consult!”

Harry takes in the information, and looks at Nikki’s record.

“There’s…nothing in your files about needing an MRI.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to kill my eye doctor.” She sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“What did he tell you, exactly?”

“I have no idea. I zoned out after he said brain tumor at eight o’clock in the morning.” She rolls her eyes. “He said something about the backs of my eyes looking blurry? About…something being swollen?”

“Okay, I’m going to run a few tests, and look at a few things. Some of it is going to involve me examining different parts of your body. Is it okay to touch your arms and legs?”

“Sure.” She nods.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you some silly questions.”

Harry asks Nikki what her name is, what year it is, then asks her to name the days of the week in order, and backwards. He checks her reflexes, has her pull and push against him with her hands and feet. He has her follow his finger with just her eyes.

“You’re doing really well so far, Nikki.” He tells her. “Would you mind taking your sandals off? I want to check the bottoms of your feet.”

She does so, and swallows hard as his large hand grips her foot. Now, Nikki doesn’t have a thing for people touching her feet, but something about the way he’s holding her so firmly and gently at the same time is making her sweat. It also doesn’t help that Harry is tall and very handsome. Oh, and he’s British. She feels like she’s in a dream.

“Very good. Okay, hop up on the exam table for me. I’m going to turn the lights off and look at the backs of your eyes.”

Nikki does as he says, and waits for him to shut the lights off. He shines a flashlight in her left eye first. He gets so close to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. He checks the other eye, then turns the lights back on.

“Okay, so what I think is going on here is called intercranial hypertension.”

Nikki gets off the exam table and sits back down in the chair.

“Yeah, let’s pretend I have no idea what that means.”

This makes Harry laugh. She’s a funny one. “Basically, there’re these veins in the backs of your eyes, and there’s some pressure on them. Since you don’t have any symptoms of MS, or anything else, it’s just sort of a thing that’s common in young women. Has your vision gotten worse? Any really bad headaches?”

“I have tension headaches once every few months, but I work a desk job so I’m looking at screens all day. So I get the occasional headache, and the occasional eye strain. But I’ve never lost my vision or anything like that.”

“Dizziness?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

Harry nods and makes a few notes on his computer.

“Do you get headaches from laying down?”

“No, they usually go away if I lay down.”

“And your vision hasn’t gotten worse?”

“If anything it’s gotten better since I started wearing glasses last year.”

Harry can’t help but chuckle to himself again. This is exhausting, even for him. This poor woman has been put through all of this worry and stress.

“And I suppose having stress from thinking you may have a brain tumor probably hasn’t helped.” He smirks.

“Not exactly.”

“Well, Nikki, I can honestly say I don’t think you need an MRI. In fact, that’s not even how we would treat or look into this condition.”

“Oh?”

“We would do a spinal tap to really get in there. At this moment in time, I don’t see any reason why I would need to put a needle in your spine.”

“Oh…my god.” She starts sniffling again. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be such a baby.” She tries to catch her breath. “I’ve been dealing with this all by myself for months. Is there anything I can do to not have hypertension in my eyes?”

“Unfortunately, no. We’ll want to keep an eye on things. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this. I plan to give your eye doctor a call to get to the bottom of why exactly he thought an MRI was a way to go. But remember, eye doctors only know so much. He was probably just being overly cautious.”

“I just wish he had explained things differently.” She wipes underneath her eyes and looks at Harry. “Thank you for being so nice.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiles softly. “Your feelings are valid, I’d be stressed too. Even though there’s nothing to really do, I hope this brings some relief to you. I really think you’re going to be fine. You know what symptoms to look out for now, so if anything happens give us a call.”

“So…that’s it?”

“That’s it. I’ll upload all my notes to the portal, so if you want to look back at anything later you can. You don’t even need to check out with the front desk. If you don’t have any questions for me, you’re free to go.”

“Thank you, Dr. Styles.” Nikki sighs and stands up. Harry stands up as well, and shakes her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Take care of yourself, Nikki. Hopefully you won’t have to come see me again.”

She wants to tell him she wouldn’t mind seeing him again, but that would be way out of line. She doesn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. So, she just smiles, and leaves the exam room. He probably he sees dozens of patients a day. He’ll forget about her easily, but at least she can think of him fondly from time to time.

One Month Later

Harry thinks about Nikki often. Usually, he can let go of his patients, especially when he’s only needed to meet with them once. But he can’t get the image of this woman crying in his office due to pure exhaustion and fear out of his mind. He’s had to diagnose some pretty horrible shit. He’s had to perform spinal taps. He’s had to be the one to deliver awful news to families. Nikki’s situation shouldn’t be eating at him like this, but it has.

The first thing he did, after conferring with the attending neurologist at the hospital, was call Nikki’s eye doctor. Normally, Harry would give someone the benefit of the doubt, but he went off on this guy. There were barely any notes in Nikki’s file about the initial visit with the eye doctor.

“How in the ever living fuck was she supposed to articulate what you said to her?! The woman was in shock!”

He eventually calmed down, and the chat ended up being reasonable, but he was still really annoyed. How often does this happen? To tell a woman she might have a brain tumor and then not fight to get her into seeing a specialist stat? Yeah, that’s what Harry’s the most pissed off about. It shouldn’t have taken four months for Nikki to have gotten an appointment to see him.

Harry did his job. He wrote out a copious amount of notes, easy enough for Nikki to understand on her end, and sent the message along. He hoped it brought her more comfort. And when she said she had been dealing with this by herself? He was nearly sick over it. His heart broke for the girl.

He wanted to look her up, just to check on her, but that would be extremely unethical. And he’s pretty sure it’s against the law? Who can remember? He just knows he’s not going to risk his career for something so silly.

However, when he happens to be walking by a little bistro and sees Nikki waiting on a table by the window…

He had half a mind to walk in, but he thought of how creepy that would make him look. She would think he was stalking her, right? That’s not the move. It needs to be more casual. Now he’s standing out here overthinking it. He walks away. She seems fine. The smile on her face shows that perfectly well. She’s fine.

Two Months Later

It’s going to be a late night for Nikki. A table of ten just got sat in her section, and it looks to be like a special occasion. At least she knows she’ll get a good tip. A party that large automatically gets charge a 20% gratuity to their bill. One of the runners dropped off water and bread to the table already, so she just needs to start with drink orders and go from there. Easy.

“Hi, everyone, my name’s Nikki, I’ll be your server this evening.” She smiles at everyone. Her eyes scan around the various faces. One face catches her eyes after hearing the sound of choking. Harry. He’s coughing from sipping his water the wrong way. Her eyes widen as she looks at him. “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

“Yes!” One of the men at the table says cheerfully. “We’d like three bottles of red, and three bottles of white for the table, please.”

“You got it. I’ll be right back with those.”

Harry takes another gulp of his water. He was really hoping Nikki wasn’t working tonight. They’re here to celebrate a friend’s birthday. He couldn’t exactly protest on going. When Nikki gets back to the table, she lists off the specials, then starts taking orders.

“And for you, sir?” She asks Harry.

“I’ll just…I’ll have that salmon you mentioned…thanks.”

Nikki nods, and moves on to the next person. Harry looks around and notices that this is Nikki’s only table. After all the orders are taken, Harry excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Only he doesn’t go to the bathroom. He makes his way over to the back of the restaurant, where the POS systems are, and finds Nikki.

“Nikki?”

“Dr. Styles!” She gasps. “Did you need something else?”

“No, I just wanted to talk to you.” He rubs the back of his neck. She has him follow her out the back door so they can speak privately outside. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” She swallows. “Did you know I worked here?”

“No. Well, yes, but I didn’t tell my friends to come here tonight. I…I’ve wanted to reach out.”

“I found a new eye doctor.”

“Good.”

“I heard that you yelled at mine for scaring me.”

“Couldn’t help it.” They look at each other for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. You?”

“Thirty.”

“What’s the occasion for your party?”

“It’s a friend’s birthday.”

“And the woman sitting next to you…?”

“One of my friends. We’re all just friends.”

“I…I’ll be done here around eleven.” She chews on her bottom lip. “If I’m misreading this, though…feel free to let me know.”

“You’re not. I don’t really know why, but you really tugged at my heartstrings that day. I think about you a lot.”

“Then why haven’t you reached out?”

“Because it’s unethical…immoral. You’re a patient of mine.”

“You saw me once for a neurology appointment. It’s not like you’re my psychologist.” She rolls her eyes.

“Alright, I’ll wait for you until your shift ends, and then what?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Do you have a car?”

“Yeah.”

“We can go for a drive. I need to get back inside now. I have some other tables to cash out.”

They both go back inside, and Harry makes his way over to his table. Luckily, none of his friends ask what took him so long. The entire night, Harry steals glances of Nikki. After dinner, various people leave at different times. A few ask Harry what he’s up to, but he explains that he’s meeting a friend for a drink soon.

He waits patiently for Nikki. It warms her heart a little that he’s thought about her. When she heard he yelled at her eye doctor on her behalf…well…she’s not proud to admit it, but she had a fun night with her vibrator.

“I’m ready.” She says as she comes up to him.

“Great, I’m parked right out on the street. Are you hungry or anything? We could stop so you can eat.”

“I’m not, but thank you. I had dinner at the beginning of my shift.”

Harry leads Nikki out to his car, and opens her door for her. They sit in their seats for a moment. It’s sort of awkward.

“Sorry, I’m not sure where I should drive to.” He laughs nervously.

“We could go to the park. It’s a nice night to just sit there.”

“Okay, yeah.” He nods, and puts the car in drive.

They pull up to a nice spot. It really is a nice spot. The moon is reflecting beautifully in the pond nearby. Harry turns on some music, but keeps the volume quiet. They both unbuckle their seatbelts, and take a deep breath.

“This is awkward, right?” He asks her.

“A little.” She smiles nervously. “But I’m glad I’m here. I…sort of wanted to hit on you when I saw you last, but I knew it would be inappropriate.”

“You did?” His eyebrows raise.

“Yeah! I mean, I’m attracted to you physically. But on top of that you were so sweet and understanding, and you made me feel safe and comfortable. I know you were just doing your job, but you really helped put my mind at ease.”

“I’m happy to hear that. I was worried about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s like…like I’ve had to look at people and give them really bad news, and I’m able to sort of leave all that at work, but…you really stuck with me for some reason.” His cheeks blush ever so slightly.

“So…this is a mutual reaction? As much as I love making friends…”

“I’d like us to be friends, don’t get me wrong.” He places a hand over hers. “But…maybe we could get to a place where we’re a little more?”

“I’d like that.” She smiles. “Do you get busy a lot at work?”

“Sometimes.” He nods. “I’m not a surgeon, so at least I’m not getting pulled into stuff like that. I do a lot of research so I can properly diagnose people. I work with a lot of people who have MS, people who have seizures, stuff like that. It’s the brain and the spinal cord, not just eye stuff.”

“Makes sense.” Nikki nods. “Did you know you always wanted to me a neurologist when you were younger?”

“Yes and no. I was really interested in psychology, but as a science. So, in undergrad I minored in psychology, but I majored in biochem. Then I went to medical school, and specialized in neurology. I’ve been a doctor for four years now. It’s been a long journey, but I’m really happy with it.”

“That’s incredible.”

“How long have you been a waitress for?”

“A while! I’ve been at this place for three years now, so they’re really good to me. I was working at a drug store for a bit, but I wasn’t getting paid enough, you know? So I started working at really nice restaurants. I get amazing tips at this place.”

“Did you go to school or anything?”

“I did.” She nods. “But I didn’t finish. It wasn’t really for me.”

“That’s good you figured that out. I had friends in med school that figured it out a little too late.”

“I got good grades, I just didn’t love it. I didn’t have these crazy aspirations. I sort of like living simply and modestly. I have a two year old dog at home, he’s the best.”

“Yeah? What’s his name?”

“Freddie.” She grins. “Do you want to see a picture?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry leans in so he can look at Nikki’s phone. He smiles from ear to ear as he looks at the pictures.

“He’s adorable.”

“Thank you.” Nikki sets her phone down, then looks at him. “Should we…do you wanna get into the backseat?”

“For what?”

“So we can get more comfortable.”

“For what?” He tilts his head to the side with confusion.

“I just thought if we ended up kissing or something it would be easier if we were in the back.”

“Oh!” His cheeks redden more. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Is this still because I came to see you one time, two months ago as a patient?”

“No…I just prefer to take these things slowly. I don’t do this often, and I’m really cautious when I do. Maybe I could get your number? We can plan an actual date or something.”

“So…so you’re not going to fuck me tonight?”

“God, no.” He shakes his head. “I’m not that kind of guy.”

“I wasn’t saying you were, I hope you’re not offended. I just thought that you wanted to fuck me from the way you kept looking at me all night.”

“How was I looking at you?”

“Like you were hungry for something other than food.”

His hand on hers squeezes. He’s saying something without saying it. She just can’t figure out what exactly. Since it’s late, they agree he should drive her home. Nikki lives in a cute, little apartment building. They sit there, idle.

“Can I have your number?” He asks her.

“Yes.” She nods and hands him her phone.

“Are you seeing anyone?” He asks as he puts his contact information in.

“No.”

“Me neither.” He hands the phone back to her. “I texted myself.”

“Can I ask…why are you single?”

“I don’t date much.” He shrugs. “It can be hard to meet people sometimes. Believe it or not, I can be a little shy.” He turns slightly to look at her. “Why are you single?”

“Been focusing on myself for a while.” She turns slightly to look at him easier. “Maybe something was telling me to hold out for my very cute neurologist.”

Harry smiles at her, and takes her hand in his, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. He’s so tender, and it’s really doing it for her. She leans in, and lets her eyes flutter closed. Harry panics for a moment. Is he ready to kiss her? This is all happening a little too fast. Before he can say anything, he feels her lips on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth. She rests her forehead against his and sighs softly.

“Would you kiss me?” She asks gently.

“Yes.”

His lips fit between hers. It’s a nice kiss. A really nice kiss. Harry brings his hands up to cup Nikki’s cheeks, sliding his finger back to her hair. She leans in closer to him, and tugs on the front of his shirt. She wishes they were in the backseat of his car right now. She licks experimentally along his bottom lip, and he opens up for her. She moans softly once her tongue is inside his mouth, molding against his own.

Before Harry can ask her what she’s doing, Nikki is climbing across the console to sit in Harry’s lap. She’s straddling him. Her arms are wrapped around his neck, and she’s kissing him like the air in his body is the only thing keeping her alive. His hands squeeze at her hips, and he involuntarily rolls his hips upwards. She moans into his mouth as she feels him getting hard against her. Her hands slide down his chest and grab onto his belt.

“Do you wanna come up?” She asks as she puffs for air. “We could continue this more comfortably on my couch, or on my bed. I’m fine with either.”

“I…” Harry’s heart is pounding. “I’ll walk you to your door. Um…I shouldn’t come up though.”

“Oh.” She frowns slightly.

“It’s not because I don’t want to! You’re so…” He runs his thumb along her bottom lip. “I think I could really like you, so I don’t want to prematurely screw up by moving too fast. I’m not…I’m not a fuck a girl on the first date kind of guy. I don’t really do the friends with benefits thing. If I date someone, then I’m dating them, you know?”

“Oh, Harry.” She smiles and kisses him again. “You get sweeter by the second. We can take this slowly, I don’t mind. I think I just got a little excited in the heat of the moment.” She rocks against him. “You’re hard, so I thought-“

“Of course I’m hard. I’ve got a very pretty girl sitting on me.” He furrows his brows. “Should I have tried to hide it? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not uncomfortable at all.” She grins. “Well, you have my number, use it when you want to see me next.” She climbs off of him and gets out of his car. Harry walks her up to his door. “Well, goodnight.”

“Night. When do you work next?”

“Tomorrow night. I try to work nights on weekends since it’s busier. I get more tips that way. I’m off on Sunday, though.”

“Maybe we could get together Sunday, then? We could go for a walk in the park instead of just being parked by it.”

“That sounds nice.” She smiles and kisses his cheek. “Sunday it is.”

Well, Harry’s officially freaking out. He took a really long shower this morning. Got nervous. Then did some manscaping, and accidentally nicked his balls. He just wanted to be freshly groomed! This is a disaster. He likes the way his happy trail looks, so he keeps that the way it is. He has no idea if he’s going to be naked or not later, but he wanted to be prepared. No matter what, he’s always prepared.

The decided on meeting at the park for a picnic. Nikki said she’d bring the food if Harry would bring drinks and a blanket for them to sit on. He gets there before her so can get a spot by a tree that has good shade. She finds him just as he’s placing the blanket down on the ground.

“Hey.” She smiles, and he turns to look at her with a smile of his own.

“Hi.” He leans in and kisses her cheek. “I had a little fun and got us sparkling white grape juice.”

“That is fun, thank you.” She sets the cooler with food in it down, and then they both sit. “You picked a great spot.”

“Thanks.”

They eat and chat and giggle and have a nice time. Eventually, Nikki finds herself straddling Harry so they can kiss each other. He’s a little nervous doing this in such a public space, but other people are probably doing the same, and it’s not like they’re being vulgar about it.

“I really like kissing you.” She tells him. “Your lips are so soft.” She starts sucking on Harry’s bottom lip, ripping a moan through his throat.

“We should stop.” He tells her. “I’m getting kind of flustered, and we’re in public…”

“Oh! Sorry.” She quickly gets off of him. “Do you always get so, um, worked up from kissing? It’s kind of cute, and an ego boost for me, but if there’s something different you’d prefer-“

“No, it’s not that. I’m just sensitive, that’s all. And since I don’t do this often, I don’t really have a tolerance.”

“Right.” She nods. “When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

“Like a serious one?” Nikki nods yes at that. “High school.”

“Wow…”

“What about you?”

“Two years ago. Did you not date in college?”

“My girlfriend and I broke up during our freshman year of college, and I didn’t want to hook up with random people. I was really focused on my studies. Same for when I was in med school.”

“And now?”

“Been busy with work stuff. Dating…dating sort of terrifies me, Nikki. I know I came across as calm and suave in the exam room, but I’m a little socially awkward when it comes to non-neurological things.”

Nikki pouts affectionately at Harry. He just got a million times cuter. She cups his jaw and leans in to kiss him. He kisses her back, letting out a relaxed sigh as her lips take over his.

“I have Wednesday off this week.” He blurts out. “Do you have to work?”

“Only in the afternoon for lunch.”

“Maybe I could come by and meet your dog?”

“I’d love that!” She beams. “Freddie’s gonna love you, I just know it.”

And so, on Wednesday, in the early evening, Harry comes over with pizza. Freddie does like Harry right away, but who wouldn’t. Harry likes Nikki’s apartment. It’s a spacious one-bedroom. Before long, she ends up laying on top of him on her couch. They’re kissing, and since they’re lying, she has a bit more room to grind down on him. He’s hard, but this time he’s not making moves to stop her or tell her to slow down. He’s doing his best to keep up and move his hips along with hers.

It’s when her lips leave his that makes him nervous. She starts kissing on his jaw and neck. Her fingers tangle and twirl in his hair as she gently sucks on his skin. She knows not to leave a nasty mark, but a little one should be fine. Besides that, she’s entranced by him. She’s having fun just kissing and grinding. She’s moaning into his neck every time he rolls his hips up to hers. She likes feeling how hard he is against her. She can feel how wet she is. She’s probably soaked at this point since they’ve been going at it for at least an hour.

“Harry?” She asks, sitting up a little. “Do you maybe feel like doing a little more?”

“More what? Do you want me to kiss on your neck too?”

“Well, yeah, that would feel really good, but-“ He moves her so she’s on her back, and he’s the one laying on top of her. “You can leave all the marks you want, I won’t mind.”

Harry kisses and licks and sucks on Nikki’s neck and collarbone while she wraps her legs around his waist. She needs more friction. She moves against him a little faster, and he’s moving right along with her until all of a sudden he stops and sits up.

“Sorry, I just need a second.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Felt like I was going to…to lose it.”

“It would have been okay if you had. I would have cleaned you up.” She bats her lashes as she sits up and tugs on the front of his shirt. “Or you could let me take care of you with my mouth so there’s no mess at all.”

“Oh, I…I’d like that, but…I don’t think now is a good time.”

“Alright.” She can respect that. She’s annoyed, but she can respect that. “I guess I’m just a little revved up. You’ve got me really hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She lays back down and spreads her legs. “Do you wanna feel?”

“Yes.” He nods, but makes no move to touch her.

“Okay…go ahead.”

“I can’t.”

“Does it still feel too soon?” She asks as she props herself up on her elbows.

“Um…yeah, a little. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” She shoots up and hugs him. “Like I said, I’m just a little revved up. I don’t really know why I’m rushing this. We’ve barely been going out a week.”

“It’s okay, it’s nice to feel wanted. I want you to feel wanted to, so believe me when I tell you, I want you. I just don’t…I’m not…I think our clothes should stay on, and I don’t think we should touch below the belt yet. I don’t mind the grinding and stuff, but anything more than that is too much for me, I think.”

“Harry, thank you so much for being so open about your boundaries with me. It means a lot. Kissing you is great, I’m okay if that’s all we do for now.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “Can we…can we go back to kissing now?”

“Yeah.” He nods and lowers himself back on top of her. He licks into her mouth and they both moan. It’s so good.

A Month A Half Later

“Wait, so you and this guy have been seeing each other for over a month, and he hasn’t even so much has tried to take your shirt off?”

Nikki’s talking with one of her co-workers at the restaurant while the fold napkins for tables.

“All we do is make out. I’m not complaining because he’s a really good kisser, but he stops us any time he gets close to coming in his pants. I offer to take care of him, but he keeps telling me it’s not the right time or that he can’t. And when I ask him if he wants to touch me, he says yes but doesn’t. I don’t want to pressure him, but I need a little more I think.”

“How are things otherwise?”

“Great! We always have a lot to talk about, but we also are able to have comfortable silences. Like we can just cuddle and watch TV. Freddie loves him. He’s even let Freddie come over to his places a couple of times. He bought a water dish for him! Like, I think we both see this going somewhere, but he’s being really timid.”

“Maybe his last breakup was bad.”

“He hasn’t been in a serious relationship since he was in high school, and he’s thirty.”

“Jesus.”

“And like everyone does everything in their own time, but that feels like a long time to not have been in a relationship, you know? And he says he doesn’t do hookups.”

“Do you think…maybe he doesn’t have a lot of physical experience, so maybe he’s just nervous?”

“Like…he’s never had sex before?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t know.” Nikki blinks. “I never even thought of that. I’m not going to ask, that’s such a personal question.”

“If you need more physically from him though, you should tell him.”

“I don’t want him to feel pressured.”

“So say it in a non-pressuring way. All you’re doing is advocating for your love language, that’s all.”

Nikki takes in her friend’s words and mulls them over. She’s supposed to see Harry tonight after work. He’s coming over to watch a movie with her. He hasn’t spent the night yet, but since it’s Friday, maybe he will.

Nikki is fidgety as she sits with Harry on her couch. They’re cuddling, but she wants him all over her. She pulls him down to lay on top of her, and it makes him chuckle.

“Won’t I crush you like this?” He asks.

“Want you to crush me. Feels nice to have you on top of me.”

“You’re cute.” He pecks her lips. “I have a question I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Would you…like…would you want to officially be my girlfriend? I want you to meet my friends and stuff.”

“Oh, Harry.” She pushes on his chest so they can both sit up. “I’d love to meet your friends. But girlfriend is really serious for two people who haven’t even slept together yet, you know? What if…what if we’re not all that compatible in that area?”

“Is sex that important?”

“It is to me. I’m really big on physical touch and affection. I’ve been okay taking this slowly with you, but at some point I’d really like it if we could start doing more. I mean, you haven’t even seen me without a shirt on.”

“I’ve never seen any woman with their shirt off. Well, that’s a lie, I have, just in a sexual way. When I was in medical school, I had to learn how to-“

“Harry.” She takes his hands in hers. “Focus, please. Can I ask you a personal question? There’ no judgement or anything, but are you nervous to do more with me because you’ve never done more with anyone?”

“It’s embarrassing.” He groans, letting his head fall forward.

“It’s not.” She cups his cheeks and lifts his head back up. “You can tell me, it’s okay.”

“I’ve never done more than what we’ve done.” He admits. “I felt like I was too young in high school. My girlfriend and I broke up because she was ready for more since we were in college, but I still hadn’t felt ready. Then…I got so focused on school, that getting into a relationship and having sex didn’t seem like a priority. And then before I knew it was in med school, and then I was a working doctor, and now I’m thirty and I’m still a virgin.”

“Slow down.” She shakes her head. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yes it is. How can you not be judging me right now?”

“I’m in shock because you’re so beautiful, but I’m not judging. I didn’t have sex for the first time until I was twenty-two.”

“Had you done other things before?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, I haven’t. I’ve never let anyone do anything to me, and I’ve done anything to anyone else. And I…I’ve really wanted to be more intimate with you, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be any good. I have no idea how to do anything.”

“Do you ever touch yourself?”

“Well, yeah.” His cheeks redden. “Don’t you?”

“Mhm.” She smiles with nod. “Sometimes I even think about you when I do it.”

“I think about you too.”

“Okay, so we have a starting off point. Look, there’s no pressure on my end, okay? I really appreciate you being so honest and open with me. I know how scary this can be. You helped me through a really scary time in my life, so I can help you with this…if you want.” She leans in and kisses the tip of his nose. “And just for the record, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

“Really?” He perks up.

“Really. I’d be an idiot to turn you down. Not only am I dating a doctor, but I’m dating a neurologist. My parent’s will be thrilled.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re keeping me around.” He scoffs playfully.

“And because you’re a good kisser.” She jokes. “I could bite and suck on your lips all day.”

“You’re really okay with me being a virgin?”

“Virginity is a construct.” She shrugs a shoulder. “Obviously sex is a big deal, I’m not discounting that, but it doesn’t need to be the end all be all. Is there anything you’re dying to do?”

“I want to…I want to touch your breasts without any clothes covering them.”

“I can make that happen whenever you want, Harry.”

“Would now be okay?”

Nikki nods, and moves to straddle her new boyfriend. She lifts her arms up, and waits for him to take the hint to lift the shirt off of her. His eyes widen when he sees her bra. He sets her shirt down beside them. Nikki reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, and the straps slowly slide down her shoulders.

“Oh, wow.” Harry says as he gazes at her chest. “Can I touch them?”

“Yes.” She giggles. “Do whatever you want. You suck on them, bite them whatever.”

“Do your nipples get sensitive?” He asks as he cups her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. “How should I go about it?”

“Kiss them like when you kiss my neck. I’ll tell you if you bite too hard.”

Harry nods and leans in, licking over one of her nipples. He watches as it pebbles, then licks it again. He starts sucking on it, only the nipple first, then taking more of her breast into his mouth. He looks up at her, pleading to know if she likes what he’s doing.

“Feels good, Harry.” She runs a hand through his hair.

He kisses along her chest until he’s at her other breast. He sucks and licks on her while his other hand gropes at her. She puts her hand over his, showing him how he should squeeze and move. She grunts and groans.

“You’re so hard.” Nikki whimpers, and rolls her hips down onto him. “Please, let me help you. Let me take care of it.”

“Can we just keep doing this? I’ll just…I feel really good, I don’t want to stop.”

“Do you want to just come in your pants? I can wash them for you after?”

Harry nods yes. With that, Nikki pushes him to lay on his back, and she starts grinding back and forth on his bulge. Harry continues groping and kissing on her breasts, moaning louder when as he feels himself getting closer. He sucks hard on one of her nipples, nipping at it, and Nikki gasps. She collapses down onto him, and moves faster on him. She’s getting just the right amount of friction from his jeans against her leggings.

“Fuck.” She grits her teeth.

“Nikki, I think I’m gonna come.”

“Me too.” She whimpers into his neck.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I make a mess?”

“Yes, I’m gonna make a mess too, it’s okay.”

They both lose it, riding it out the best they both can. Harry clings to Nikki. She moves to slot her mouth over his, soothing him.

“Feels all cold now.” He sighs.

“It’s good when it’s happening, but not after.” She chuckles. “If you want you can use my shower. I can give you a towel to hang out in while I wash your clothes. I can throw everything in with a load I need to do anyways.”

“That would be great, thank you.” They both sit up. “Do you think I could stay the night with you and Freddie tonight?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” She beams.

“Maybe after I shower…we could lay on your bed and try some other things?”

“Only if you really want to, Harry. I’m fine if we leave it where we do for now.”

“I want to.”

“Then…let’s shower later.” She tugs him along to her bedroom, and they get onto the bed. She helps him take his pants off, but leaves his shirt and underwear on. She takes her leggings off, and leaves her panties on. She opens her legs so he can see. “I made a mess too. Soaked right through my panties because of you.”

“Holy shit.”

“You can touch…if you want.”

Harry reaches forward, but decides to just grip her inner thigh.

“How do you like to be touched, Nikki? I feel like on paper I know exactly what to do. I mean, I know the basic anatomy of a woman.”

“Would it be okay if I got fully naked?” Harry nods yes at that, and watches Nikki take her panties off.

“You’re so…pretty.” He says as he looks down at her. He moves and lays on top of her like he has tons of times. “Can already feel how warm you are.”

“Do you want to try to use your fingers?”

“Yeah.”

She takes one of his hands and sucks on his middle finger. He’s in awe of her. She sits up on her elbows when she’s done, and opens her legs.

“Rub your finger around first before putting it in.”

“Wait…shouldn’t I…do you want me to kiss it?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Go for it.”

“How?”

“Just…kiss it like you would my mouth.”

Harry shifts down between her legs, and uses his thumbs to spread her apart. His tongue peaks out, and he licks over her. He does this a few times, then he really gets going. He keeps licking over her center. Before Nikki can tell him to move up a little, he does it on his own experimentally.

“Oh!” She gasps. “Right there, keep using your tongue there, that’s my clit.”

“I found it?” He beams. “Okay. Should I use my fingers now too?”

“Please.” She nods. Harry slips his middle finger inside of her, and goes back to licking over her clit. “Good, now, make a ‘come here’ motion with your finger.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, fuck.” Her head rolls back and she starts moving against him. “You can use a second finger.”

Harry listens and adds a second finger. He keeps doing what he’s doing with his mouth, sucking and licking over her clit. His fingers are inside of her knuckle deep, pressing against that spongey front wall. She squeezes around his fingers and arches her back.

“Does it feel good?” He asks her.

“Yes, please don’t stop. You’re doing amazing.” Her head thrashes from side to side until she’s coming around his fingers. “Holy fucking shit.” She breathes. “Not so scary, huh?”

“No.” He chuckles. “You taste really good, you know that?”

“Thanks.” She sits up and kisses him. “Can I taste you?”

“If…if you really want to, I think I’d like it.”

Harry rids himself of his clothes. He’s never been this naked for someone before. Nikki takes her time caressing his body, kissing him all over until she’s between his legs.

“You sure you’re ready?” She asks him.

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m ready.”

Nikki wells up some spit in her hand before gripping Harry’s hard cock. She groans at how big and heavy it feels in her hand. She kisses his tip, then licks over his already leaking slit. She sucks on him while she carefully pumps the rest.

“Oh, wow…Nikki, your mouth.” Harry grits his teeth. “I…I don’t think I’m gonna last long. That feels…that feels so good.” Her other hand moves to cradle his balls, and his mouth falls open. He watches as her head moves up and down, how her tongue laves at him, how her hand fists him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. “Please, can I come in your mouth? It’s okay if you don’t-“

Nikki takes Harry down her throat and chokes on him. He loses it there, spurting down her throat. She takes it all, greedily. She moans and she continues to suck on him. She pulls off of him slowly, and crawls up his body, kissing him. She cuddles him and praises him and shows him so much affection.

“So…what did you think of your first blow job?” She asks him.

“That was…otherworldly. My head is spinning.” He turns to look at her. “This is going to sound really fucked up, but I’m glad you had an overly cautious eye doctor. If you hadn’t been told to see a neurologist…we never would have met, and I don’t know…I can’t remember a time I’ve ever been this happy.”

“I’m really happy too. You’ve been so wonderful to me. I…I’m sorry if I was hesitant before about the girlfriend thing. I want to be your everything. Let’s see this through.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He assures her. “You had every right to be wary. I just know how I feel, and I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be ready to go all the way, but…this was really nice tonight. Can we keep trying things here and there?”

“Of course.” She snuggles into his chest. “I think now that I know why you may have been holding back physically, I have a better understanding of everything. We’ll do more when you’re ready. If I feel like I really need a cock inside me, I can just use my dildo in the meantime, it’s not a big deal.”

“Do those feel good? I’ve always been so curious.”

“They do! I have to be in a particular mood to use it over a vibrator, but sometimes I really need the penetration to come.”

“Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go again, but in the shower? I think it would be nice to do what we just did in there.”

“Your cock’s not too sensitive?”

“It probably is, but I don’t care. I just wanna touch you again.”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #hs fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x oc #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #doctor!harry #neurologistrry #neurologist!harry #neuro!harry #neuro

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thedeluluverse · 9 months

Text

To the anon that requested this, I hope you like it and I'm sorry it's taken me this long to get to it <333

Summary: Your husband Jimin has always loved kids and wanted them one day but wasn’t sure he would ever get to see himself as a father due to his busy schedule. Now that that dream has come true, he is determined to be the best he can be for your little miracle

Pairing: husband!jimin x wife!reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship, first time parenthood

Word Count: 1,795

Warnings: None, just a bunch of fluff : )

A line. Parallel. No wait, two lines. As you look at the pregnancy test you took a mere 5 minutes ago, you can’t believe your eyes. Your whole life is about to change and too many things are hitting you at once. You and your husband of 2 years, Jimin, were not trying to start a family right now; granted, it isn’t like you were the most careful couple ever (the flashbacks making you blush) but nonetheless. Scaring you out of your frozen state, your phone lights up showing that Jimin is calling you. Oh no! What is he going to think? Children had been discussed in the past and there was definitely a want there but you mutually agreed to wait until his schedule had calmed down a little bit.

Taking a deep breath and trying to steady your voice, you take the call. As soon as he picks up, he is full of energy, “Hello my love, I am about to head home, did you want me to pick up something to eat for dinner? I know we have both been busy so I figured some takeout would heal the soul hahahaha! Oh wait, it is a bit later than usual. Have you already eaten? Sorry, let me be quiet for a second so you can answer!”. You can’t help but grin at how caring he is just towards you and have to keep yourself from drifting off into how great he would be as a father lest you start crying. Sniffling and clearing your throat discreetly, you answer, “Hey hun, yeah takeout is fine, I’ll just take some veggie ramen. Thanks for being so thoughtful!”. There’s a pause, “Jagiya, are you feeling well?”, he asks.

You freeze up because the truth is, you haven’t been feeling well. Your stomach was already unsettled before which is what prompted you to take the test in the first place and after the results, you feel even more unsteady than before. There’s no way for him to know that though so why the wellness inquiry out of the blue? You decide to try and play it cool and reply, “I’m fine, just not super hungry today love.”, he gives a skeptical okay then says that he is leaving work now and should be home in about 30 minutes with the food.

A little over a half hour later, your husband walks through the door as you are sat on the couch catching up on your shows as you had the day off today. He comes in and places a kiss on the top of your head before setting down the bag of food on the counter. Walking to the front of the couch, he leans in, kissing your nose, “How was my girl’s day huh?” he asks with a grin. You give a small smile, “It was good but much better now that you are here.” He gives you a peck on the forehead then states, “I’m gonna go take a quick shower, then we can eat. Unless you’re really hungry now then I’ll wait to wash up”. “I’m fine babe, I promise!” you answer; “Swear?” he asks as he sticks out his pinky. You giggle and make a show of acting as though you can’t see him holding up anything which earns you a cocked eyebrow and him hooking your pinky himself before he walks into the master bathroom.

Not 10 minutes later, and your husband has definitely shifted into home mode; emerging from your shared bedroom in sweatpants, an oversized hoody, and his glasses, still damp hair making him look like a tiny puppy who just got caught in the rain. You start tearing up the moment you see him and he instantly notices, “Honey, are you alright?” You sniffle and stifle the waterworks as best you can while you nod, “yeah I’m fine, you just looked so cozy and tiny and *crying ensues*”. He rushes to your side and rubs your back, “Woah there, it’s okay pretty, in the best way possible, are you about to start your period? It isn’t like you to cry because you find me so cute. It’s super sweet but just wanted to check in”. You start laughing and answer “Good joke, about to start my period HA HA HA, mister funny man, I love you and your sense of humor! XD” You take a deep breath to calm down and then get up to grab the food, blaming the laughing fit on delusional hunger Y/N. Jimin just smiles and nods, lowkey worried but figures food is the cure.

While Jimin is almost done with his 5 course meal, you are barely halfway through your bowl of noodles. You really are hungry but your brain is going a million miles a second thinking about everything yet nothing at once and wondering how soon you should tell him. Should you do it now? Wait until he has had some rest? Wait a month or two so you know all is well? As you are having this debate, you feel his hand gently resting on your knee and have just noticed his head bent down so his eyes can meet yours which have zoned out on the floor beneath you in thought. “y/n, are you sure you are okay? You’ve barely touched your food and something just feels off. You can talk to me you know that.” Pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, you nod and reply, “ I know I can, just a lot on my mind but I’m fine I promise!” He purses his lips, not completely convinced but drops the subject.

After about an hour of you both passing out on the couch after dinner, you are awoken by a gentle hand on your shoulder and your husband standing behind you with tears in his eyes holding the pregnancy test. Once your eyes adjust, they are wide in panic. Is he upset with the results or that he found out by finding it, you meant to throw the bathroom trash anyway but had forgotten in the midst of everything. He sniffles then comes around to sit beside you, both of his hands holding the test now. Too worried to speak, you just lay a hand on his thigh to let him know you are there if he wants to talk.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known?” he spurts out. Tears form in your eyes with just the biggest mix of emotions. “I only found out a few minutes before your call earlier and have been processing the news myself and trying to figure out when to tell you because I know you are busy and this is just a big surprise and I didn’t want to stress you out and-“ He cuts you off via a finger on your lips, “You wouldn’t have stressed me out jagiya. Yes I’ve had a long day and yes we have been busy lately, but this is a dream come true!”. As he throws his arms around you, your whole body relaxes instantly. The two of you stay up for the next 3 hours talking about everything and just gushing about how excited you are to start a family.

TIME SKIP: 9 MONTHS LATER

After weeks of preparation, the day is finally here. You are about to give birth to your first child. The nerves are definitely there but you are doing your best to stay calm. Jimin was doing a radio interview about an hour away when you called him that you were in labor and checking into the hospital. He immediately told the host to use whatever material they already had and would be M.I.A. because “his baby is having a baby and I gotta go byyyeeee!!”. He rushes to your side the second he gets to the hospital and doesn’t leave no matter how many times you insist you’ll be fine, glare at him for doing this to you, or putting his hand in a death grip trying to get through the pain.

About 3 hours later, you give birth to a beautiful baby and once the nurse gets you all settled and you’ve held the baby for a bit, Jimin takes the bundle of joy into his arms for the next 2 hours while you nap just talking and occasionally staring as the situation still feels surreal. As you regain consciousness, you hear him talking to the newborn and fake sleep so he doesn’t stop. What you hear only affirms that you sure picked the right man to start a family with almost 3 years ago.

Now to what you heard, Jimin is telling the child, “You know you are so adorable, aish… you take after your eomma so much you know? She’s as precious as you are and I already can tell she will take the best care of you. Me on the other hand… well, I vow to do everything in my power to protect you, love you, and be there for you as long as I live. I feel honored to be your dad and will make sure I do right by you always. Pinky swear.” At those words, your eyes pop open and see him placing his pinky under the baby’s while he gently kisses the forehead. Tears are forming in your eyes and all you can do is croak out an “I love you” while he smiles back and gets up to lay the baby in the crib.

Throughout the years, Jimin definitely did right by his promise. Providing for the both of you and eventually for a second child as well in every capacity to the best of his ability. He even went so far as to take a year of paternity leave for each child because he said that “The guys understand and we have enough projects and content coming out for awhile that it’s all set baby. My family comes first. Always will.”

He was better than you ever imagined with children, making your heart flutter and you swear you fall deeper in love with him every day seeing how he interacts with them. He is the perfect balance of stern enough to not be a pushover but not too intense. He genuinely cares about every facet of their lives and helps you to raise them the best y’all can. Over the years, he keeps a log of pinky and height comparisons which helps his self esteem for about 8 years or so. No matter if he is reassuring the kids, planning a surprise for you, or disciplining them, he always finds a way to to work in his signature to let them know that things are alright between them.

The pinky swear <3

#btsfluff #btsxreader #jiminxreader #husband #wife #firsttimeparents #pinky swear #dadmochi #usermaggie #ughreads #anon request #eoieopda archive #usertaeyungie

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kirk-says-wah · 7 months

Note

Hi, may I have a request.

Past relationship James/Cliff

James/Jason 1988 Justice era

Something to do with all this - Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Fluff

James and Jason have been dating for a while now. Jason thinks it's time for James to meet his family in Michigan. James isn't ready.

I was kind of hoping it would tie into Cliff and Cliff's family in some way for why he's not ready to meet Jason's family.

Thank you so much! And Happy Birthday! 🎂

Thank you so much for the ask! And so sorry it’s taken me so long to answer 💞

You can also read on ao3 here ❤️

“I think you should meet my parents.”

James chokes on his beer, splutters into a coughing fit. Jason’s hands warm his back, patting it lightly until he can finally suck in a breath.

“What?” he squeaks, cheeks burning. He clears his throat, watches as Jason gets up to flip the vinyl on the record stand.

“They’d love you,” Jason shrugs, closing the lid as Lou Reed starts to drone on in the background.

James has never been a fan of his music. He says as much.

“Why’d you put this pussy shit on?”

It’s petulant.

It changes the subject.

Jason sighs, deep with his shoulders, turns to lean back against the set of drawers.

Maybe not.

“I’m serious, James.”

His eyes are wide, makes him look younger. James takes a long pull of his beer, Jason’s expression doesn’t flicker.

“So am I”, James says, adorns a lopsided grin, but Jason just sighs, again, and James wonders how long it’ll take before he’s sick of him.

“Look, I know it’ll be hard, especially because of the situation with your parents -“ understatement “-but I think it’ll be good for you.”

James bristles a little at the mention of his parents, eyes darting to the floor. There’s a stain in the very middle of the rug. Looks like piss.

“James.”

It’s probably piss.

“James, man. Talk to me.”

He blames Lars. He makes a mental note to make him slug it to the dry cleaners.

A hand comes to his jaw, softly tilts his head up. He holds his breath.

“We’ve been together a long time now,” Jason says, face soft, eyes kind.

And well.. James wouldn’t say nine months is a long time. But he’s not counting.

“I know,” he says anyway, just to placate the concern etched into the lines of Jason’s face.

Jason thumbs at his jaw a little before leaning down, catches him in a small open-mouthed kiss.

“You’ll be fine. My parents are nice. And we’ve got a weekend off coming up.”

James doesn’t like that the subject isn’t being dropped.

He fidgets.

“If Lars lets us,” he says, though he knows full well if he commands, Lars will always obey. Most of the time. The little fucker’s always been more bark than bite.

Jason rolls his eyes at that, he knows James too well to buy that shit, moves to plant himself on the couch next to him.

“It’ll be fun,” Jason says, wriggles his socked feet onto James’s lap. “And we’ll be back here for your birthday.”

“Whoopee-doo.”

Jason doesn’t mistake the sarcasm but intends to ignore it anyways. James wonders how he’s ended up with someone so fucking optimistic.

“I can call them later, let them know. My sister’s probably home too; she usually is in the summer.”

James really isn’t in the mood for this. He pokes at Jason’s toes, grinds his teeth. Jason’s eyes bore into him but he’s feeling a bit too uncomfortable to meet his gaze.

“James,” Jason pleads.

James wishes he would just take the fucking hint. He’s really not up for this right now. He downs the rest of his beer, crumpled the can in his fist.

“I know it’s gonna be.. err- hard because of what happened with Cliff-“

“You don’t know shit,” James snaps, tosses the can to the floor. Jason takes his feet from his lap.

“No I know. But it’s gonna happened sometime, dude. And unless you wanna talk about it I don’t know where he fuck I stand.”

Jason has a point. For once.

James wipes a hand over his face. The reminder of Cliff just sours his mood, makes him feel hollow with guilt and grief because he just misses him so goddamn much.

He’d met Cliff’s parents, back in ‘84, and he remembers how his mother had hugged him as soon as he set foot in the door, had fed him into next week and was more concerned for his health than anyone had been before. And his father had clapped him on the shoulder when they’d talked about their upcoming tour, had called him son. It’s the closest thing to a family he ever felt.

But then Cliff died.

Mrs Burton still calls him, checks up on him and the boys because she worries, but he can’t stand to keep a relationship with a family that’s not even his; doesn’t want to accidentally step into Cliff’s shoes.

So the idea of being - hopefully - welcomed into Jason’s family almost feels too much, like they’re reaching out a rope of security and love that he just knows one day will be pulled loose.

He doesn’t want the wool over his eyes if it just means he’s gonna lose more people.

Jason’s shifted to get closer to him now, rests his arms on James’s knees.

“Hey, it’s okay, y’know, to let me in. I’m not a mind reader.”

James just shrugs because he doesn’t have the words for the indescribable feeling of fitting into a family that will never be yours.

They sit in silence.

Then, Jason says, “We don’t have to.”

James feels like an idiot now.

“I know,” he murmurs after a moment, finally glances at Jason, feeling something akin to guilt settle in his chest.

Jason moves to lace their fingers together, squeezes his hand gently.

“Too soon?”

James’s throat feels like it’s suffocating him from the inside, but he manages to chokes out, “it’s not- im not-“

“You don’t have to explain,” Jason interrupts, earnest now, and James has never felt more grateful.

Jason pulls him in then, warm arms enclosing around him, and James hides his face in his neck.

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles amongst Jason’s curls, and Jason just nods, kissing his temple gently.

#james/jason #metallica fanfiction #metallica #asks

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frankieispunkk · 10 months

Text

The intimacy of being understood by someone part 2

Warnings:swearing,reader feeling insecure,mentions of bad relationships and toxic men.

Date night:

The next day:

After yesterday I found out that Marcus was friends with my boss,and no I didn’t get in trouble for being late. I also found out that Marcus is one of most amazing people I’ve ever met,he is kind,thoughtful,trustworthy and not to mention drop dead gorgeous. After we arrived into work (fashionably 3 hours late) Marcus introduced me to my new co workers I would be working with as a emt in the fbi. He showed me around the building I’d be working in,filling me in on where to get coffee and catch a break which in his words is “the most important thing” which I wholeheartedly agreed with. I Learned that he works in the art crimes department,and he loves art and old movies,SWOON! after Marcus showed me around I got to work on some paperwork I had to do before actually going into the field,normal boring shit but it had to be done,it was 8pm before I knew it and Marcus popped his head around the office to say he was going home,and I should get going too. I finished off the papers around half an hour later and to my surprise Marcus was waiting for me. “Marcus you scared the shit out of me!” I laugh. “Just wanted to get you home safe” he laughs,”sorry for scaring ya!” We walk to the subway station together talking about where we should go for dinner tomorrow,should I call it a date? Probably not. “He is just being friendly”I think to myself Marcus suggests an American diner not to far from the station,apparently it sold killer pancakes. “Sounds like a plan to me agent pike” he laughs at me using his professional name “American diner it is then agent smith” we laugh and joke until our trains arrive,”hey could I get your number? Just in case I need to contact you”. Marcus asks,”sure” I give him my number and Marcus puts it in his phone.

“You sure you gonna be ok getting back on your own?” Marcus asks with a caring smile “Yeah if I need you I’ll text you”I smile warmly back,we both stand awkwardly for about 5 seconds before Marcus leans in and gives me a hug “I’m glad I met you today,and even more glad we are somehow working together” he chuckles “so am I Marcus,I can’t thank you enough for today”. The hug lingers for around 20 seconds and I smell his cologne,it’s musky and woody with a hint of his natural musk. I’m slightly taken back by the hug and after we part I’m longing for more…hopefully another day.

Marcus’s train arrives and we say our goodbyes and I wait for mine and put my AirPods in… I put on Lana del reys new album she released last week while waiting for my train…one of the worst days turned quickly into one of the best,all thanks to Marcus. Even if we stay just friends,I can tell he going to be in my life for a long time.

I wake up feeling refreshed,but nervous. I need to get a outfit ready shit. It’s just a causal friend date not to fancy right? And it’s the middle of autumn,it’s gonna be cold last thing I want to do is freeze. Plus I hate showing skin anyway,i look in my closet and find a simple but cute outfit, “this will do”

I look in the mirror,”I look stupid Marcus going to think I’m weird and fat” I push the thoughts away and put on some light makeup and have a bite to eat. Whiskey comes up to my feet,”hey boy,you hungry?” “I’ll feed ya” I feed whiskey,then there is a knock on the door. “Shit” I grab my phone and my bag and take a deep breath,and answer the door.

Marcus is on the other side with flowers in his hand. Holy shit he looks gorgeous.

“Got these for you,you look gorgeous” Marcus smiles and blushes lightly

“Omg Marcus you didn’t have to do that!” “You don’t look to bad yourself” I smile and wink. God that was probably so cringe I say to myself and put the flowers in a vase before leaving with Marcus.

“So where is this diner?” I say while walking with Marcus.

“It’s not to far from mine,I’d figured I’d drive us there,it’s actually quite a trek from yours” he chuckles

We walk up to Marcus’s car and he opens the door for me “ladies first” “oh such a gentleman” I laugh “only for you” he winks. Omg did he just wink at me??get a grip it was probably just a joke. Marcus looks over at me and puts his hand on my thigh, “hey you ok?” “Yeah! I’m fine just being stupid” “you’re not stupid” Marcus says softly while staring the car. “And you look amazing” he looks over at me with a gleam in his gorgeous brown eyes. I must of been daydreaming because before I knew it we were parked outside the diner. “Ready to stuff ourselves with pancakes?” Marcus laughs “hell yeah!” I say laughing softly.

Marcus takes my hand to help me out the car,the brief moment our hands touched felt like electricity. And I think he felt it too as when our hands touched his hand clenched slightly,maybe I’m reading into it too much.

We get inside and it’s amazing,not to posh so I’m happy I didn’t go with the other outfit in the end, I find us a seat while Marcus gets the menu. When he sits back down again I take a moment to really look at him…without looking like I’m staring,he is in a plain white shirt with a leather jacket,how can he make something so basic so hot? “You look absolutely amazing btw” I say to him quietly.

Marcus blushes “you think?I wanted to look half decent for you,you really are an amazing person and I don’t even know that much about you yet,but I want to get to know you,maybe as more than friends too.you’re beautiful,and strong. I know that already

I just sit there looking shocked for a second “Marcus you really mean that?”

“ I mean every word,if you want this could be our first date,only if you feel the same way about me obviously” he chuckles.

“I…feel the same way,you’re gorgeous Marcus. And you’re so kind,I’m not used to guys actually being interested in me,all my exes said the same thing,that they couldn’t accept me for who I was. One of them even went as far as cheating on me with a slimmer girl because and I quote “I’m to disgusting to have sex with” and I believed him,I would throw myself into toxic situation after toxic situation because I didn’t know any better…kinda why I moved here,fresh start I guess.

It was now Marcus’s turn to looked shocked “sweetheart I’m so sorry that happened to you” he takes my hand,”none of them deserved you,you deserve someone who loves and respects you,and takes care of your every need. I’m a firm believer that love stems from respect,and respecting your partner’s feelings,sticking with them through thick and thin. Call me a old school romantic,I’ve probably watched to many old movies,but men these days are trash” Marcus chuckles softly “I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships,hell I’ve even been divorced,but I’ve gotten the help I needed,I went to therapy and healed. And I’m ready to date again,and I want that to be you”. Marcus smiles softly and looks into my eyes “we can take it as slow as you want darling,you’ve been hurt in the past,we both have and if you want to just be friends for a while I’m fine with that but,you’re beautiful and you deserve someone who loves and respects you,and if you’d let me,I’d do that for the rest of my days.

“No Marcus I really want to date you,so much especially now after you said all that I’m not good with words but you just blew my mind with how incredibly beautiful and intelligent you are. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time and we haven’t even kissed yet. You have already made me a better person,and I really want to find out more about you.you’re so sweet and interesting,when our hands touched it was like electricity and when we hugged last night…I didn’t want to let go,I wanted you to hold me forever. You make me feel safe.

By time we finish talking our food arrives

“Also you like pancakes so that’s an immediate green flag for me” Marcus winks while tucking into his pancakes. “I could eat pancakes all day if i could”

“You’re so adorable”I laugh softly while digging into mine.

“Not as adorable as you tho aye? Marcus flashes a cheeky smile

We finish off the pancakes and make light conversation for another 15 minutes mostly about our love for music and movies

“I’m really falling for you” Marcus suddenly says

“Really? Because I literally fell for you the moment I met you”I laugh

“I suppose you did,but I mean it I said to myself I’m not going to rush into things but I’m falling for you babe. Marcus chuckles

“If you don’t wanna rush into things then we can take this at your pace,you know that right? I say softly

“I think I would like to take this slow,but I can’t help myself you’re beautiful,kind compassionate and intelligent. I just can’t help falling for you”

“Then we can take this slow,but I’m falling for you too.you’re genuinely the greatest person I’ve ever met.

After a while of more talking…and flirting me and Marcus step out of the diner “what you wanna do now? You can come back to mine if you want,it’s way to late for anything to be open,unless you just want me to drop you home?”marcus says softly

“Yours sounds good” I chuckle “might get a good night kiss then” I wink

“Oh I’m making sure of it” Marcus laughs.

Well that’s the end of part two,it went on way longer than I expected it too! I hope y’all enjoyed:))

#Spotify #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #pedrohub #marcus pike x plus sized reader

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