#i already lay awake at night thinking about it
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roommates ; lando norris + part two
In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.
masterlist - playlist
lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!
That night you find out why Lando was dressed this nicely. Al though, Lando texted you before hand so maybe you could have guessed it before. He texted you to let you know that he was heading out to a club, not wanting you to startle you when he came back late in the night. At first you thought you would sleep right through it, but when he unlocked the door you are wide awake. And if that didn’t awake you, it would be the stupid giggles of some girl that would wake you up. You’re going to kill Lando.
When you hear the girl moan, you’re pretty sure that you want to kill Lando. He annoys you so much right now. You hear the girl moan again, it almost makes you sick. They stumble and you hear the door of Lando his room opening. He really didn’t lie about the walls being thin. Are you suppose to listen to everything now? You don’t want to, that’s for sure.
You let out a soft annoyed groan. What do you do now? You already turned around in the bed multiple times. You’re not going to fall asleep again when Lando is fucking a girl right next to you and you can hear everything. Frustrated you grab your phone from the nightstand and open your messages to send Lando a text.
Then you notice the fresh flowers again. You think about earlier, Lando told you that there is in fact a cleaner and that she’s coming tomorrow. Once a week and always on the same day. That means she didn’t brought the fresh flowers. Could that mean that Lando put them here?
You discard those thoughts when you hear the girl moaning again. It surprises you that you don’t hear Lando. For a few seconds you wonder what he sounds like during those moments, but you try to forget about those thoughts quickly. You can’t think about him like that. Quickly you focus on the text you’re about to send.
Y/N: I really don’t want to hear some random girl moaning the whole night
It’s not like you expect a response from Lando. He’s probably balls deep in the random girl right now, so the it’s not like he will look at his phone. You do hear his ringtone on the other side of the wall.
Lando does however read your text. He even has a special notification for you programmed in his phone. So when he hears it, he directly grabs his phone. It earns him a nasty look from the girl underneath him. Oops? When he reads your text, he doesn’t know what to do at first. He thinks about texting you back and teasing you if you’re jealous. But eventually he just puts his hand on the girls mouth.
“Be quiet,” he tells the girl.
She shows him an annoyed look, but he doesn’t pay attention to it. Harshly he fucks her. In the mean time he only thinks about you. It’s going exactly as every other time. Some random girl is laying underneath him. He’s fucking with a fast pace and wants to be done soon, not taking his time for the girl. Every time it seems like a good idea to bring someone home, but when his dick is inside of them he can only think about you. This time his mind is focused on the way you looked in only that damned towel. It helps him to orgasm rather quickly, to the disliking of the girl.
When he’s done, Lando is quick to tell the girl to fuck off. He never lets them sleep over. There has never slept a girl in his bed before. Normally he gives them a bit more time to calm down or to talk, but he feels ashamed about himself and wants nothing more then this girl to leave.
You’re more then surprised when you hear Lando telling the girl to be quiet and to walk her out only minutes later. Is this the way he’s treating those girls? You think about giving Lando a piece of your mind, but you’re not in the mood for an argument. He can do whatever he wants.
“Do you want a midnight snack?” Lando asks you while softly knocking on your door. “I know you’re still awake babygirl,” he adds when he feels himself getting impatiently.
You let out a soft sigh and get out of the bed. When you open your bedroom door, Lando is almost in shock when he looks at you. You’re dressed in only his shirt and a pair of panties. He can almost see them. The shirt is just long enough to cover your ass. He reminds himself to give you a smaller shirt next time.
“So, midnight snack?” You ask Lando when he doesn’t say anything after you appeared in front of him. He is quick to nod and to take you to the kitchen with him.
A couple minutes later you’re eating ice cream. Lando is joking about how his trainer is going to get mad at him for having a cheat day like this. You can’t focus. You keep thinking about how Lando treated that poor girl. He literally used her to orgasm and send her home afterwards. It makes even less sense that he’s eating ice cream with you now. He could have done that with her and then send her home. Right?
“Do you always treat girls like that?” You ask Lando suddenly. You can’t withhold the question anymore.
Lando lets out a soft sigh. “I don’t expect you to get it,” he tells you, “but those girls use me as well.”
“They use you as well?” You ask confused. In your eyes Lando is the one who uses them.
“Yeah,” Lando agrees, “Every girl that I bring home comes up to me and asks me if I’m the Lando Norris. After that they will flirt with me, try to take pictures for their Instagram story for more followers, keep asking me to buy them and their friends drinks.. and more like that.”
“So you take them home for a quick fuck and tell them to fuck off?” You ask.
Lando doesn’t know what to say. He knows you’re right, but he doesn’t want to say it like that. He watches you take a spoon full of ice cream inside your mouth. It almost feels like you’re looking at him with disgust. He realizes that he’s a massive player and doesn’t treat those girls right, but he doesn’t know how to change. And what will distract him then. He can’t keep thinking about you the whole day.
“Maybe,” he eventually confesses, “I know it’s bad.”
“Really bad,” you agree.
“I know,” Lando sighs.
“You know, if you would have eaten some ice cream with her and then made her leave, it would be better,” you tell Lando, “I don’t even know why you just didn’t do that. Like why call me over for a midnight snack if there was someone around?”
“It’s more fun with you babygirl,” Lando says without thinking about his words.
“Liar,” you laugh.
+++
The following night, the exact same happens. Lando texted you beforehand that he was heading out again, a small three hours later you hear him stumble back into the apartment. You hear something fall and how Lando is stumbling to walk around. The noises are followed by a high pitched giggle. Great, another girl. When you hear the room door next to you open and close, you’re already annoyed.
“I can’t believe you’re the real Lando Norris,” you hear the girl say. Is this what Lando meant yesterday night? “I’m going to have sex with the Lando Norris,” she continues. You wonder if anyone knows him at all, instead of knowing him like ‘the Lando Norris formula one driver’. Slowly you start to understand what Lando actually meant last night. You start to feel sorry for him.
When you hear the girl moaning loudly, your earlier feelings are quick to dissolve. Why do they have to be so fucking loud? It surprises you when you hear Lando softly moan as well this time. This girl must be better then the one from yesterday.
Lando can’t focus on anything else then you. He knows it isn’t you who’s moaning underneath him, but still. His mind if full with images of you. He can’t stop thinking about the way you looked yesterday night, dressed in only his shirt and a string. Fuck. If he keeps thinking about you like this, he won’t even last a minute anymore.
In the mean time you’re sending annoyed texts to your brother. Complaining about Lando of course. Not that Max can do anything about it, but you want him to know how annoyed you are with this whole situation. When you hear Lando moan again, your attention stays focused on the sound in the room next to you.
You almost don’t hear what happens next. The unknown girl is moaning loudly, but suddenly stops.
He can’t stop thinking about you. When Lando remembers how you looked in only that fucking towel, he almost loses it. He thinks about fucking you. Would you feel nice around his cock? He is pretty sure that you would be the perfect fit. He tries to imagine how it would be to have sex with you. He knows for sure that it would be a lot more pleasurable. He suspects that you’re a bit bratty, but he wants nothing more then to fuck that out of you.
“Fuck, y/n,” Lando whimpers when he feels his orgasm getting close.
Fuck. The girl underneath him is quick to move away from him. Lando almost slaps himself for being this stupid. It isn’t the first time that he says your name, but now you’re sleeping in the room next to him. What if you heard?
You doubt if you heard it correct, did Lando really moan out your name? Your doubts are quick to disappear when you hear the girl yelling at him. Now you’re pretty sure you heard it right. Lando moaned out your name. What the fuck.
Within a couple seconds you hear how Lando his door is opened, only to be closed again with a loud sound. Is this girl slamming doors? You want to get out of bed and to look at everything that is going on, but it can’t be smart to do so. In the mean time, there are multiple questions spooking through your head. Why did Lando moan out your name? Could it be that he was thinking about you while fucking that girl? Curious you get out of bed.
Lando sighs when he follows the girl. He needs to do some damage control. You can’t find out what just happened. Although Lando is afraid that it’s already too late for that. “Who’s she?” The girl asks him angrily.
“No one,” he is quick to react.
“So you’re just moaning out a strangers name?” She asks him even more annoyed then before, “I’m not fucking stupid Lando.”
“I’m sorry,” Lando eventually says, he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s always a mess when this happens.
“Do you even know my name?”
Lando almost laughs when he realizes that he doesn’t even know the name of the girl. God, he’s such an idiot. Before he can apologize again or make up a lie, the girl is already walking out of his apartment. He sighs. What a fucking mess, he can only think. Another reason to stop fucking with all sorts of random girls.
When he walks back towards his room, he is quick to notice you. This is making things only worse. You’re dressed in Lando his shirt again, this time paired with a short bottom. Lando can’t stop looking at you. He notices that you want to say something, but he’s quick to interrupt your tries.
“Not now babygirl,” he says tiredly.
“Why not?” You ask him with a soft tone of annoyance in your voice. Who does he think he is? He can awake you in the middle of the night with some random girl for two nights in a row? And you can’t even say anything now?
“I’m not in the mood,” Lando reacts.
“I was’t in the mood to hear that girl,” you throw back annoyed, “but it still happened.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lando sighs, “I’m sorry for her loud moans.”
“I’m not talking about her moans,” you state.
Lando knows exactly what you are talking about right now, but he really doesn’t want to hear it. He walks towards his own bedroom and quickly opens the door.
“I heard you as well.”
Your words follow him in his bedroom. Fuck, of course you heard him. Lando sighs and starts to feel ashamed for himself.
+++
The following day, Lando takes every chance to avoid you. His morning consisted of doing a lot more training then normal, then he went out for groceries and now he’s meeting with your brother, Max, for lunch.
“So, is your plan already working?” Max asks him jokingly.
Lando sighs annoyed and shakes his head as a no. Max softly chuckles. Lando still doesn’t know why Max is this okay with him crushing on his little sister. Max even encourages it and tries to help Lando the best he can. Something he really doesn’t understand either.
“Come on mate,” he tries to uplift his friend, “you knew it wouldn’t change that fast.”
“I know,” Lando confesses, “but I think I fucked things up a bit more instead of making things better.”
“You’ll find a way to fix it,” Max continues, “Maybe you can impress her with dinner or something as an apology?”
Lando softly nods. It’s not like he can cook, but maybe he can try. He thinks about the groceries he bought earlier and tries to think of a nice home cooked meal with them. Maybe he should head back to the store later.
“I don’t get it,” Lando sighs, “Normally I can take home every girl and fuck them without any effort, but with Y/N I can’t even think straight while talking. Can’t I just fuck her instead of trying to flirt with her?”
Max laughs. “You’re an idiot,” he tells Lando, “If you’re going to fuck with her, you’ll probably only fall harder for her.”
a/n ; a bit short, but things will get better & longer later on :) thanks for the positive comments on the first one everyone!!
taglist: @booksandflowrs @hiireadstuff @likedbygaslyy @dreamsarebig @f1fantasys @samantha-chicago @sweatrevenge5436-blog @queenofmanydreams @fionamiller123 @chezmardybum @f-1-lover-16 @formulaal @shellybee456 @sltwins @mouchii @emyladia @v3rnom @customsbyjcg-blog @cthgee @moonclaine @scarletwidow3000 @bokutos-babyowl @loloekie @lyannesworld @silentreader128 @oreosareara @gabotomo @princesspristins @leclercsluv @lina505 @sideboobrry11 @zucchinimalfoy @danielshoe @alana4610 @viannasthings @toriiez @randomnessis-mine-me @cmleitora
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris imagine#lando norris imagines#f1#ln4#formula one
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Lay, lady, lay
WC: 1.6k
Notes: Ancient fluffy-ish blurb from my google docs. Just a simple Sunday morning crumb. Reposted cause tags (still) won't work
TW: typos, curse words?, mention of pills?, me being repetitive and using song lyrics as endings and titles because I don't own one single ounce of creativity nor talent
‘Matty, can you grab my meds for me, please?’
You scrunch your nose at the sound of your groggy morning voice, cursing the pollen that’s been filling the newly warm spring air and, consequently, blocking your sinuses and keeping you awake all night.
Fucking allergies.
Your boyfriend just hums in response on the other side of the bed, eyes glued to his phone while he numbly scrolls away, barely registering that you’re talking to him. You turn your head to take a better look at him: sleepy eyes, messy ringlets, pouty lips, long sideburns and, dulcis in fundo, his slightly hairy chest peeking out from the duvet.
If your relationship was happening in a fairytale, despite gender stereotypes, right now you would be the evil ogre and him the princess in distress kept captive in your tower, guarded by dragons and whatnot. You don’t even need a mirror to confirm your theory, sleeping beauty by your side looking like a proper snack at eight in the morning while you feel like a truck just ran you over. Prince charming, in this case, must be the sun: the same soft rays that are burning your retinas seem to only caress him in a shower of light, gently tracing the slope of his nose and making his glossy curls glimmer.
You grunt, turning to lay on your tummy and firmly planting your face on your pillow, praying for it to swallow you and keep you there, in the valley of soft feathers and comforters or wherever pillows come from.
The fact that you're thinking about fantasy worlds for the second time in a row since you’ve woken up it’s a clear indicator of how bad of a few hours of sleep you got and how you have a whole lot of creative dreaming to catch up on. You need meds.
Matty’s weak attention span has already faded when you try to gently nudge his leg with your feet, startling him. He turns to finally look at you, putting his phone on the nightstand.
‘Are you trying to suffocate yourself?’ The smirk he’s so obviously sporting makes you want to slap him right across the face. You raise your head just slightly to try and set him on fire with your glance, but the result is poor: Matty full on laugh at the sight of your tired eyes, failing at your attempt to appear threatening. You let your head fall back on the pillow in defeat, mumbling about how bad of a boyfriend he is.
‘Aw baby, don’t be mad at me, it’s not my fault you’re just adorable with that red nose of yours. Did you escape from Santa Claus’ barn? ’
That was the ultimate dick move. Realising you’re not in the mood for jokes he tries to apologise, scooting towards your side of the bed to envelope you, but you keep your distance, sliding blindly to the edge of the mattress, as far away from him as possible.
Until you feel nothing underneath you.
You land on the floor with a thud almost as loud as to grant you a knock on the door from your angry neighbours, but the sound of your failure is soon replaced by the grunts of your boyfriend who’s apparently trying really hard to stop himself from laughing at you.
Dickhead.
While you wait for him to come and rescue you, because of course he has to laugh in your face just for a moment longer, you start plotting your revenge. Maybe you should just grab one of his ankles and sweep him off his feet, but then again, who’s gonna pick you up with his dead weight upon you? The plan is unviable.
He crouches beside your limp body before you can even attempt to find a plan B, looking down at you with a faint smile until he decides that the time for pity has finally come. He circles your torso with his arms, raising you from the ground until you’re flush against him and your hands are gripping his neck. He then pats the sides of your thighs, inviting you to place them on his hips and you oblige, defeated, the pain in your back overpowering the need to ignore him. For now, at least.
Comfortable in his arms, you decide to nuzzle against his neck, ignoring the destination of this little walk until the cold marble of the kitchen counter bites the naked skin of your legs. He has strategically placed you between the kettle and the fridge, you notice, the perfect spot to smooch you in between the steps of preparing breakfast. He does this often, especially when in trouble and desperate for your forgiveness. The bastard knows how to make you soft.
You accept the first sweet kiss to your nose with a grunt, involuntarily starting to warm up to him. He then starts the little routine of his, walking between the two appliances an unnecessary amount of times, purposefully avoiding multitasking to kiss you over and over.
He fills up the kettle, smooch. He takes the butter out of the fridge, smooch. He reaches for two mugs in the cupboard above the steaming appliance, smooch. He goes back to retrieve the milk, smooch.
And then his absolute favourite: toast. He grins like a kid walking back to you with the slices of bread in his hands and you roll his eyes, but you let him have his moment.
‘May I?’
You barely nod, his arms reaching behind your back to place the slices inside the toaster, which is conveniently located behind your back. His torso leans over you in the action, one hand, now empty, coming to your waist while the other turns the lever to the highest setting, just to make sure he has time to get his way with you before having to return to chef duty.
He smirks before crushing his lips on yours, forceful and bold, his other hand coming around and gripping the thin material of your shirt over your ribcage. He tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue coming out to graze at your lower lip but you physically have to push him off you. Before Matty can even ask what’s wrong you break into a fit of coughs, and it’s like a lightbulb switches on over his head. He places his hands on the counter on either side of your legs and looks at you sweetly.
‘You out of breath already? Did the allergies get to you?’
You mumble in affirmation, your throat too sore to try and speak and curse him out for his lack of attention before. The toaster goes off, triggering Matty to finish his little routine, buttering the toast and tossing the teabags before placing the meal on the kitchen island.
‘Go eat, I’ll take your pills’
You oblige, watching your boyfriend’s boxer-cladded rear make his way to the master bedroom. You munch on breakfast while listening to the screeching sound of the bathroom drawers being opened and almost certainly getting messed up with Matty’s frantic research.
He returns a couple minutes later with a triumphant look on his face, swinging the blister pack in the air like a trophy.
‘Open up’
You stick your tongue out and he places the medicine on your tongue, letting it dissolve until the bitter taste fills up your mouth. You take the glass of water Matty slides over to you, raising the corners of your lips in an appreciative smile. He smiles right back and as best as he can, considering he’s stuffed his mouth like a squirrel to catch up with you on his toast.
‘Can we go back to bed after this? I don’t think I can manage my eyelids being open for much more’
He grins at this, swallowing hard and reaching for his tea to down it as fast as possible, the prospect of spending the cosy sunday morning under the duvet with you much more appealing than any other plan. So much so that he almost burns his tongue with the hot liquid, eager to answer you.
‘I’m all yours, darling’
And he is. A perfect Adonis draped on the pillows, still half naked, with burning hot skin that smells like sandalwood, all yours, trapped under the weight of your head on his bare chest. Your ear is pressed against his ribcage, listening to the rhythm of his heart, a deep, constant beat that sounds like it was pulled out from one of his songs.
‘I’m sorry for earlier, I was kind of a douche’ Matty whispers mere centimetres from your ear.
‘You were, but you can make up for it’
He wiggles a bit under the covers, impatient to hear your request.
‘Stay still and sing me to sleep, will you?’ You stifle a yawn right after and you flutter your eyelids close. Finally, your breathing evens out.
‘Sure thing, princess. Any requests?’’
‘Blue sunday’ You answer. It’s an unintelligible mumble, but he knows you too well to not expect it.
So he begins to card his fingers in your hair, alternating scratching at your scalp with tracings of your neck. His voice breaks the silence in the sweetest melody:
I found my own true love was
On a blue Sunday
She looked at me and told me
I was the only
One in the world
Now I have found my girl
My girl awaits for me in tender time
My girl is mine
She is the world
She is my girl
His arms tighten around you as the lyrics reach the end. Content floods your body, you can finally sleep peacefully.
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Guilt
A/N: This was the result of a horribly vivid series of nightmares and daydreams I had. Kinda raw in some areas.
T/W: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence
Set after UTRH, in an AU where Bruce isn't a shitty Dad and Dick didn't know about Jason being Hood.
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Word Count: 11152
The dull ache behind Dick's eyes felt like a constant thrumming in his skull. It wasn't a headache, not exactly, but a dull, throbbing reminder of the fragmented sleep he'd wrestled with all night. Images flickered at the edges of his mind, fleeting and nonsensical, the aftertaste of a nightmare he couldn't quite grasp.
He was both grateful and terrified that he couldn’t remember the nightmare.
He was better off in this void, just floating, disconnected, not real…
RING!!!!
The shrill blare of the alarm ripped him fully awake, a jolt that sent a tremor through his already strained muscles. He swatted at it blindly, silencing the insistent shriek. The harsh light of dawn filtered through the blinds, painting sickly yellow stripes across the rumpled sheets.
He stared at the ceiling, the white plaster a stark contrast to the leaden weight in his chest. His mind, usually a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, was a vacant lot. No playful banter with himself, no strategising for the upcoming day. Just… nothing.
There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. He knew that. His body ached in a way that transcended physical exertion, a deep, bone-deep weariness that lingered even after the adrenaline of the night had faded. He couldn't remember what had woken him, the nightmare a fleeting memory already dissolving into the fog of exhaustion.
He didn't need to remember, anyway. Nightmares were a part of the deal, these days. Unbidden companions in the lonely hours between sleep and wakefulness. With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick rolled onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around himself. He didn't move, didn't think, didn't even breathe deeply. He simply existed, a hollow shell adrift in a sea of grey.
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RING!!!!!
The dull ache behind his eyes morphed into a throbbing pressure as the alarm screeched back to life. Dick flinched, a low moan escaping his lips. The sound was a physical assault, each insistent ring echoing in the hollow space of his skull.
A weight landed on his chest, accompanied by a wet tongue being dragged across his chin. Haley, his faithful Bitewing, had apparently decided Dick's alarm clock wasn't loud enough. He forced a weak smile, scratching behind the dog's ears and kissing her face. The familiar warmth of Haley's fur offered a flicker of comfort, but it wasn't enough to dispel the leaden weight pinning him to the bed.
He knew he should get up. He had work, he had gymnastics classes to teach, patrol later… But the thought of facing the day, all those people, felt like scaling Mount Everest in flip-flops. What happened to Extraverted Darling Dickie Grayson? He wondered momentarily.
Every fibre of his being screamed for just five more minutes, ten maybe, an eternity of oblivion beneath the covers. But he knew the world wouldn’t stop for him.
With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick finally pushed himself upright. The world tilted slightly on its axis as the blood rushed back into his legs. He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the nightstand. His room mirrored the chaos within him. He’d never been a very clean person, but at least he tried. However, today, clothes were scattered across the floor, a half-eaten protein bar lay abandoned on the desk, and his Nightwing suit, lay carelessly crumpled on the chair like a discarded exoskeleton.
He should put that away later.
The kitchen beckoned with the promise of coffee, the lifeblood of heroes (or at least moderately functional ones). For a second a ghost of a smile played across his lips at the hypocrisy of it – he spent hours preaching to Tim to drink less coffee, and here he was.
But it vanished just as quickly. Even the mere thought of turning on the coffee maker, the measuring, the brewing, felt like an insurmountable task. His stomach rumbled in protest, a pathetic counterpoint to the exhaustion gnawing at him.
It’ll be fine, He told himself. I’ll just buy something to eat later.
He shuffled to the bathroom, the fluorescent light assaulting his already strained eyes. The face staring back from the mirror was pale, and drawn, with dark circles that seemed to have taken permanent residence under his eyes. It was a face he barely recognised, a face that held none of the usual spark, none of the cocky charm that had once been his trademark.
He splashed water on his face, the cold offering a temporary jolt. He looked away, refusing to acknowledge the haunted look in his reflection. There was no time for introspection, not now. He brushed his teeth with mechanical motions, the taste of toothpaste sharp and metallic on his tongue. Just get through the day, that was the plan. One step at a time. He repeated the mantra to himself, a silent plea in the face of overwhelming apathy.
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Dick finished his bathroom routine, the harsh light revealing the full extent of the damage beneath his eyes. He looked older, wearier, a far cry from the ever-youthful Dick Grayson. Even Haley, usually a whirlwind of enthusiastic tail wags at the start of the day, sat by the door with a subdued thump of her tail. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. Haley deserved better than a shadow for a companion.
He knelt down, scratching her ears with a forced smile. "Hey girl, you feeling under the weather too?"
Haley licked his hand once, a gesture that felt more like sympathy than her usual exuberance. The decision hit him with the sudden clarity of a gunshot. He couldn't take care of Haley right now, not the way she deserved. Alfred, with his endless patience and love for all creatures, would be a far better guardian.
"Alright, girl," he said, his voice rough. "Looks like you're going to spend some time with Alfred for a while. He'll spoil you rotten, trust me."
Haley tilted her head, a flicker of something akin to understanding passing through her intelligent brown eyes. Dick clipped on her leash, the familiar weight a grounding presence. “Don’t worry,” He whispered, trying to keep his voice light. Dogs hear emotion, not words, he reminded himself. “We’re still going for our walk!”
Dick brought Haley on their usual round through the nearby dog park. It was quite deserted today. Dick found himself thanking the heavens for that. It passed in a blur, and before he knew it Haley was leading him back to their apartment building.
As they walked out of the lift on Dick’s floor, Mrs Sanchez, their friendly neighbour, stopped him in the hallway.
"Dick Grayson! My goodness, you look like you could use a good night's sleep."
Dick's stomach lurched. He plastered on a smile, the effort a physical strain. "Ha! Just a late night, Mrs. Sanchez. Nothing a good old cup of coffee can't fix, right?" His voice sounded too high-pitched, too strained even to his own ears.
Mrs. Sanchez peered at him with a look of concern that scraped against his already frayed nerves. He needed to get out of there, fast.
"Well, don't you push yourself too hard, young man. We all need to take care of ourselves sometimes."
Dick mumbled a goodbye, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He couldn't handle her well-meaning concern, not now. He reached his apartment door, the key feeling like a foreign object in his hand.
A single glance at his reflection in the hallway mirror was all it took. The dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises, stark against his pale skin. Panic surged through him. He couldn't let anyone see him like this.
He darted back into the apartment, his heart hammering in his chest. Reaching for his makeup bag, something Roy and Wally had once gifted him as a joke, he applied concealer with trembling hands. The product did little to mask the exhaustion etched into his face, but at least it offered a thin veil of normalcy.
He could pretend to be your average 22-year-old, living alone and juggling two jobs. Not a… whatever he was.
He couldn't let the exhaustion show. He squared his shoulders, a mask of forced cheer replacing the despair that threatened to consume him. One step at a time, he reminded himself. Just get through the day.
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Dick emerged into the gymnastics centre, the mask snapping into place as quickly as he shut the door behind him. A charming smile played on his lips as he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lee, parents of one of his young students. The practised ease of his interactions with the neighbourhood was a comfort he clung to.
Inside the bustling gym, Dick was a whirlwind of encouragement. He coached flips, offered playful corrections, and high-fived successes. He was the embodiment of a patient, enthusiastic mentor – everything Tim would bluntly call "excessively cheerful, but very Dick Grayson."
But beneath the surface, his mind was a warzone. The exhaustion from the night pressed down on him like a heavy cloak, making his movements sluggish and his words stilted. He felt like a shell going through the motions, a hollow imitation of his usual vibrant self.
Then, a voice shattered the fragile illusion.
"Hey, Mr. Grayson! You know, you kinda remind me of someone," chimed in a bright-eyed seven-year-old named Ethan, mid-somersault.
Dick froze. Remind him of someone? A smile strained on his face. "Oh really? Who's that, buddy?"
"My big brother, Jason! He used to come here and watch me practice sometimes. Before you came here. He’s way cooler than you, though," Ethan declared with a mischievous grin.
The air in the room seemed to thin, the noise fading into a background hum. In Ethan's place, Dick saw a horrifying image – a lifeless Jason, his once-vibrant eyes vacant beneath a bloody hood. The memory, sharp and sudden, ripped a gasp from his throat.
He stumbled back, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. "Woah there, Ethan! Don't flatter me too much!" He ruffled the boy's hair, desperately trying to regain his composure. "Jason was one of a kind, that's for sure."
“Was?” Ethan’s brows furrowed. “He’s not dead, he’s just in college.”
“Yeah, that— sorry,” Dick stumbled over his words, quickly leaving Ethan’s side to correct another little girl’s somersault, desperate to distract himself.
But the vision lingered, a dark stain on the periphery of his vision. His smile felt brittle, his cheer forced. The mask he wore felt suffocating, amplifying the growing emptiness inside.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could feel was a crushing weight of guilt.
He'd failed Jason. He'd failed to protect him. And now, what about Tim? Would he fail him too?
The question echoed in the hollow space where his joy used to reside, leaving him numb and utterly alone.
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The final whistle blew, signalling the end of the class. The excited chatter of the children faded as they filed out, leaving Dick feeling like a deflated balloon. He knelt down, forcing a smile as he helped Ethan onto his feet. "Good job today, champ! Keep practising those flips!"
Ethan grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Dick. As the last child left, Dick slumped onto a padded mat, the exhaustion finally overwhelming him. He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down. He couldn't stay here, not now. He needed to see Tim, needed to know his only remaining little brother was alright.
He drove back to his apartment, a restless energy coursing through him. Leaving Haley behind felt wrong, but he knew Alfred would be happy to have her company. As he packed a duffel bag with essentials, a dark thought flickered across his mind. Why would Alfred be happy? Lately, Dick had barely visited, and hadn't even returned Alfred's texts.
Pushing the thought aside, he loaded Haley into the car, patting her head reassuringly. "Hey girl, we're going on a little trip. You're gonna be staying with Grandpa Alfie for a while, alright?"
Haley whined softly, sensing his distress. Dick scratched behind her ears, offering a weak smile. "It'll be fun, trust me. Alfred has the best treats."
He drove ‘till evening, the familiar Gotham skyline rising on the horizon as dusk approached. Dick felt a tremor of apprehension run through him. He hadn't visited the Manor unannounced in years, not since his last fight with Bruce… he shut that door in his mind with a slam.
Parking the car in the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. He rang the doorbell, the familiar chime echoing through the silent house. The door creaked open, revealing a smiling Alfred.
"Master Dick! What a pleasant surprise!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with seemingly genuine joy. Dick blinked, surprised by the warmth in Alfred's voice. Had he missed a birthday? Some family event?
"Hey, Alfred," Dick managed, forcing a smile.
"Come in, come in, Master Dick. It's good to see you. I was just about to start making dinner." Alfred bustled around, ushering Dick inside. The familiar scent of freshly chopped vegetables and baked bread filled the air, a comfort he hadn't realised he craved.
As Dick settled into a chair, Haley nudged his hand with her wet nose. "Oh dear," Alfred said, spotting Haley. "It seems you've brought a guest."
Dick sighed. "Yeah, about that… I'm going to be a bit… unavailable for the next few weeks. I was hoping you could look after Haley?" Shame burned in his throat as the words left his mouth. He couldn't bring himself to say it, not yet. He shouldn’t even be asking Alfred for help; he’d raised Dick out of kindness and obligation to Bruce, not because he genuinely wanted to. He shouldn’t be forcing this on the already overworked man.
Alfred knelt and scratched Haley behind the ears, the dog wagging her tail enthusiastically. "Of course, Master Dick. I'd be happy to. In fact, it will be nice to have some company around the house. It's been a bit… quiet lately."
Dick's heart clenched. Was that Alfred's way of asking him to return? He couldn't say anything. Not yet. "Thanks, Alfred. I… appreciate it. Just let me know if you need anything."
"Now, now, Master Dick. You focus on whatever you need to do. You just let me know when you plan to be back."
Dick nodded, unable to meet Alfred's gaze. "Yeah, I'll let you know."
He spotted a bowl of little sweets set near the kitchen counter, likely for Tim or Steph when they passed by. He considered popping one in his mouth, if only to maintain his carefree and playful persona, but eventually decided against it. He couldn’t stomach putting something in his mouth, he felt like he’d throw up.
Instead, Dick rose from his seat, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The playful charade felt hollow on his tongue, the thought of a fake snack turning his stomach. The sweets felt almost cruel, taunting him like that.
Clearing his throat, he forced out a question, "Uh, Alfie, do you know where Tim's at?"
Alfred paused in his chopping, a knowing look settling on his face. "Master Tim is in the Batcave, Master Dick. Said he was catching up on some case files."
A wave of relief washed over Dick. Tim was safe. He was here. But the relief was tinged with a prickling unease. He hadn't spoken to Tim in weeks, hadn't even bothered to return his texts. All that, after promising himself he’d take care of his little brother this time. Guilt gnawed at him, a familiar sensation these days.
He nodded stiffly. "Thanks, Alfred."
He made his way towards the Batcave, each step a descent into the familiar yet intimidating haven.
The cave door hissed open, revealing Tim hunched over a holographic computer and newspaper clippings, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked pale, too thin for a 14-year-old, but his eyes held a familiar fiery determination.
Dick stood there for a moment, the cavernous space suddenly deafening with silence. He wanted to apologise, to explain, to offer some semblance of support. But the words wouldn't come. The weight of his own struggles seemed to constrict his throat.
Tim finally looked up, startled at his presence. "Dick? What are you doing here?"
The question hung in the air, raw and accusatory.
"I, uh…" Dick stammered, the cavernous space amplifying the awkwardness. "Just checking in. Making sure you're, uh, doing okay."
Tim stared at him for a beat, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, I'm fine," he finally said, a touch too quickly. He turned back to the holographic display, dismissing Dick with a finality that stung.
“So, what’re you up to?” He tried to keep up the conversation, not let this light fade.
Tim’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, the way they did when Tim was annoyed but masking it. “Just working on some case files,” He answered after a beat. He returned to his files, the awkward silence stretching between them. Dick had always been the one to fill silences, to crack jokes, to bridge the gap between them. But today, the words were locked away, a prisoner in his own mind.
Dick felt a strange sense of vertigo. He, the usually charming, charismatic Dick Grayson, was at a loss for words. It was a feeling so foreign, so unsettling, it made him want to crawl out of his own skin.
The weight of his helplessness was crushing. Here he was, the supposed older brother, and Tim was the one holding it together. It should have been the other way around.
Suddenly, an impulse seized Dick. He leaned down, ruffling Tim's hair with a gentleness that surprised even him. "I love you, Timbo," he choked out, the words thick with unspoken emotions.
Tim froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I… love you too, Dick," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly.
Dick straightened, a strange emptiness settling in his gut. Was that all there was to say? Where were the heartfelt conversations, the shared anxieties, the bond they used to have? He was lost, adrift in a sea of his own making.
"Alright, well, uh… I'll see you around," Dick stammered, the awkwardness hanging heavy in the air. He beat a hasty retreat from the Batcave, the silence following him like a phantom.
As he emerged into the Manor he spotted the last rays of evening sun disappearing through the windows. It was getting late; He couldn’t drive back to Bludhaven and make it to patrol tonight. He sighed. Guess he’d stay at the Manor tonight.
Then another thought hit him. Bruce.
Bruce was right here, in this house. Dick couldn’t handle another argument with his foster father tonight, he’d finally lose it.
He wouldn't see Bruce. No, not tonight. He wasn't ready for that conversation, not until he understood the storm raging within himself. Tonight, he just needed a place to crash, a roof over his head.
With a sigh, he headed to his old room at the Manor. He passed by the kitchen, just to tell Alfred he wasn’t very hungry, that he’d eaten on the drive to Gotham. Then he retreated to his bed, setting an alarm to wake up right before patrol.
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The trapeze stretched endlessly above a churning abyss. Below, the wind howled, whipping Dick’s hair into his eyes. A sickening fear twisted in his gut, the spotlight blindingly bright. He noticed the lack of a safety net below – no one in their right mind would try this trapeze. But that's where his parents were, clinging desperately, their faces etched with terror as the rope slowly snapped.
"My Robin!" His mother's voice, strained and raw, barely reached his ears.
But this wasn’t how it actually happened, was it?
He lunged, arms outstretched, the distance impossibly vast. His fingers grazed his father's, just for a fleeting moment, before their grip loosened. Their cries, a horrifying symphony of despair, were lost in the howling wind as they plummeted.
Dick screamed, a primal, agonising yell that tore from his throat. He launched himself forward, defying gravity, but it was too late. The net gave way with a sickening snap, offering no solace, no reprieve. He watched, his world turning into a swirling vortex of red and bone, as their lifeless forms crumpled on the unforgiving ground.
Then, strong arms enveloped him, pulling him back from the precipice. A choked sob escaped him as he buried his face in a familiar chest. Warmth and an iron grip anchored him, a sliver of safety in the face of utter devastation.
"It's okay, Dick. It's okay." Bruce's voice, rough with emotion, offered a fleeting balm. He was nine again, small and angry and vulnerable, clinging to Bruce, who promised to keep him safe. But the moment of comfort was shattered.
A manic laugh echoed through the darkness, chilling Dick to the bone. There, standing between him and Bruce, was the Joker, his painted grin grotesque under the harsh light.
"Ah, Boy Blunder, always the disappointment!" he cackled, his voice dripping with venom. "Couldn’t even save the last one, could you? What was his name? Oh, yes, poor little Jason."
A wave of murderous fury washed over Dick. Visions of Jason, lifeless and pale in his funeral casket, flooded his mind. He lunged, fueled by a primal rage. The fight was a blur of fists and fury, his own screams mingling with the Joker's hysterical laughter.
He didn't know how long it lasted, the adrenaline a white-hot fire consuming him. But eventually, the Joker lay still, a crimson stain blooming on his chest, the sick smile plastered permanently on his cold, dead face.
Dick stared at his hands, stained red, realising with a sickening dread what he had done. He didn’t completely regret it.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he turned to face Bruce.
But Bruce wasn't there. In his place stood Batman, his features obscured by the cowl. The disappointment in his eyes, a bottomless pit of sorrow, was a blow worse than any physical harm.
"You failed, Dick," Batman's voice, a low growl, echoed in the vast emptiness. "Just like you always do."
The words hung heavy in the air, a chilling indictment. Then, Batman turned and walked away, his silhouette fading into the darkness.
Dick was alone, the deafening silence broken only by his ragged gasps for breath. He was lost, adrift in a sea of despair, the echo of Bruce's voice a constant reminder of his failures. He had failed his parents, failed Jason, and now, he had failed Bruce. There was nothing left, no hope, no redemption.
He woke with a gasp, heart hammering against his ribs, the nightmare clinging to him like a shroud. The sheets were damp with sweat, the cold air of the guest room a stark contrast to the inferno within him.
As the nightmare receded, a chilling realisation dawned on him. He didn't know what scared him more, the brutal deaths of his loved ones, or becoming the faluire that Bruce feared him to be.
But the terror wasn't over. A cold, clammy hand brushed his cheek. He bolted upright, his scream echoing in the empty room. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating a horrifying tableau.
Jason's lifeless body lay beside him, his face contorted in a silent scream. Tim, his usually perky little brother, was sprawled on the other side, a crimson stain blooming on his chest. A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he scrambled away, his back hitting the wall. Panic clawed at his throat as he saw a weathered tombstone by the foot of the bed. The inscription sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over him: "Alfred Pennyworth. Loyal friend, devoted father and grandfather."
Dick could feel sticky, hot blood on his fingers, coating his body, drowning him. It’s like he was bleeding to death. Catalina’s honey-sweet voice echoed through the room, too distant to make out the words but loud enough to choke him.
Across the room, Barbara lay unconscious, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Her breaths were shallow and raspy. A horrifying realisation dawned on Dick. He wasn't bleeding to death, she was. The nightmare wasn't over, it was just getting started.
“No, no, no…” Dick whimpered, covering his head with his hands and curling into a ball, willing the nightmares to go away. But they persisted, tearing him apart piece by piece, clawing and ripping until there was nothing but a hollow void left.
It was his fault.
All his fault.
In the distance he could see figures hanging by their necks, suspended from trees. Wally, Roy, Garth, Raven, Gar, Donna… Kori lay on the ground beneath them, still and frozen, devoid of her usual warmth and fire.
NO! He wanted to scream, but no words came out.
Dick clawed at his throat, gasping for air that wasn't coming. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, echoing in his screaming ears. But the screams were silent, a horrifying internal torment. The figures around him, bathed in the sickly moonlight, remained motionless, their lifeless faces a tableau of his deepest fears.
A piercing shriek ripped through the room, jarring him awake. It wasn't Barbara's ragged breaths, nor the echo of his own silent scream. It was the blaring of the guest room alarm clock, a harsh intrusion into the chilling nightmare.
He lay there, eyes squeezed shut, fighting for sanity. The sheets were still damp, the air thick with the memory of terror. But the phantoms were gone. The room was devoid of the macabre scene that had played out moments, or was it hours, ago? He couldn't be sure.
Slowly, Dick opened his eyes, blinking against the weak light filtering through the curtains. The room looked normal, empty except for the furniture. Relief washed over him, a fleeting wave in the ocean of despair. He couldn't remember the specifics of the nightmare, just the raw emotions – fear, loss, and a bone-deep sense of failure.
He pushed himself out of bed, his muscles stiff and protesting. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was still 10 pm. Tim and Bruce must have left for patrol by now.
Good.
He wasn't ready to face Bruce, not yet. He couldn’t explain that he loved Bruce, that he was sorry they fought all the time. Couldn’t explain how much he regretted everything he did wrong. Couldn't explain the nightmares, the vulnerability they exposed.
Instead, he showered, the cool water doing little to soothe the turmoil within him. He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a stark contrast to the sleek black suit he should be wearing.
Downstairs, the house was quiet. The scent of coffee hung in the air, a tantalising lure for his exhausted mind. But he couldn't allow himself the comfort. Not today.
He slipped out a side door, the cool morning air a shock to his system. He needed the Batcave, the familiar weight of his Nightwing suit, the focus that came with flying over the city. Maybe tonight, when Gotham needed him, he could outrun the monsters that haunted his dreams.
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The thrill of the chase coursed through Dick's veins as he apprehended the third group of muggers that night. Adrenaline was a poor substitute for a good night's sleep, but at least it kept him sharp. Everything was still a blur, but it was more like he’d mentally checked out but functioning, rather than being catatonic.
Landing gracefully on a Gotham rooftop, he scanned the area, his gaze falling on a familiar traffic light-coloured figure perched on the edge.
"Robin?" Dick called out, his voice barely a whisper above the city's constant hum.
Tim startled, his wrist-computer snapping shut with a click. "Nightwing. Didn't hear you come up."
Dick landed beside him, noting the furrow in Tim's brow. "Lost in a case already, Baby Bird? Early start, aren't we?"
Tim shrugged, his expression uncharacteristically guarded. "Just following up on something. You wouldn't know anything new about the Red Hood, would you?"
Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante-slash-crime lord Bruce had been obsessing over just a few months ago? "Red Hood? Why do you ask?"
Tim tapped his wrist-computer, lost in thought. "He disappeared for months, then suddenly reappeared a few weeks back. But B... well, Batman isn't exactly pulling out all the stops to find him anymore. It’s like they’ve made peace or something. It's weird, right?"
A knot of unease tightened in Dick's gut. This was strange. Bruce wouldn't just abandon a case, especially one involving a dangerous vigilante. Not unless there was a reason he wasn't sharing with them. And knowing Bruce, that was likely the case.
"That is weird," Dick agreed cautiously. "Did B say anything about it?"
Tim shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't tell me a thing. So, I figured I'd do some digging myself."
Dick understood Tim's curiosity, but a part of him worried about the direction this investigation might take. It was standard Robin protocol to disobey Batman’s orders, but the Red Hood was dangerous, and absolutely hated Robin.
The image of Tim, bloody and dying in the Titans Tower, flickered over reality for a moment, chilling Dick to the bone.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could voice his concerns, a crackle of static interrupted him.
"Nightwing, Robin," Oracle's voice cut through their comms, sharp and urgent. "Gunfight in progress, two blocks east of your location. Possible hostage situation."
Dick exchanged a quick glance with Tim. "Looks like we have other priorities for now, little brother. Let's go."
Tim nodded, his earlier apprehension replaced by a steely focus. Together, they launched themselves into the night, the mystery of Red Hood temporarily put on hold as they raced towards the sound of gunfire.
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Sirens wailed in the distance as Nightwing and Robin descended upon the scene. A dark alleyway echoed with the frantic pop-pop of gunfire, a silhouette of three gunmen visible against the flickering glow of a streetlamp.
"Civilians?" Dick barked into his comm, eyes scanning for any signs of bystanders.
"Scattered on the east side of the alley," Oracle responded. "Looks like a family caught in the crossfire between Penguin and Black Mask’s gang members."
A plan formed in Dick's mind. "Robin, you take the east side. Evacuate the civilians, get them out of here. I'll handle the shooters."
"Got it," Tim replied, his voice tense but steady.
Using the shadows as cover, Dick and Tim flanked the alleyway. Tim, nimble and agile, slipped through a fire escape and disappeared into the darkness. Dick, utilising his acrobatic skills, launched himself across the open space, aiming for a dumpster that offered a sliver of cover.
The moment he landed, a hail of bullets zipped past him, embedding themselves in the metal with sharp pings. Dick cursed under his breath, whipping out his Escrima sticks and attacking the criminals. His aim was precise, taking out the gunman's peripheral weapons one by one. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Robin leading the mother and her daughters away.
Tim's voice crackled through the comms. "Family's safe. Heading back to your position."
Relief washed over Dick, momentary and fleeting. Just then, the last remaining gunman, desperate and cornered, emptied his clip in a blind rage. Dick, focused on returning fire, didn't see the glint of two stray bullets not aimed at him, that pierced into Tim's abdomen before anyone could react.
Tim's startled yelp ripped through the night, followed by a heavy thud as he crumpled to the ground. Dick's blood ran cold. "Robin!" he screamed, his voice raw with terror. Ignoring the remaining gunman, he launched himself towards his brother.
A dark figure swooped down from the rooftops, a blur of black and grey. Batman landed with a heavy thud, his cape billowing around him. He disarmed the gunman with an effortless efficiency before turning his attention to the fallen Robin.
Dick reached Tim's side, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Tim lay near motionless, a spreading stain blooming on his red chest. Panic clawed at Dick's throat. "Baby Bird! No, no, no!" he choked out, his voice thick with despair.
He fumbled with his communicator, his hands shaking so violently he could barely press the buttons. "Oracle! Get Leslie to the Cave, now!"
"Already on it, Nightwing," came the reply, laced with urgency. But the words seemed to fade away as Dick focused on the shallow breaths escaping Tim's lips, the crimson that stained his gloved hand.
He pressed his hand over the wound, applying pressure with trembling hands. The world narrowed to the sight of his little brother, pale and still, the life draining out of him with each laboured breath. The fear that had haunted his nightmares was now a terrifying reality, and Dick was utterly helpless to stop it.
The world spun, a kaleidoscope of red and black blurring around Dick as he pressed his hand onto Tim's chest. A horrifying vision flickered over Tim's pale face – Jason, lifeless and cold, his blue eyes staring emptily into eternity. Dick's stomach lurched, a primal scream trapped in his throat. This couldn't be happening again. Not Tim. Not another brother lost!
His vision swam as a large hand clamped on his shoulder, firm and steady. "Nightwing, stand back," Bruce's voice, a low growl, cut through the haze of terror.
Dick felt himself being pulled upright, a numb puppet on a string. Bruce knelt beside Tim, expertly assessing the wound, the cowl doing little to hide the worry etched on his face. Dick watched, detached, as Bruce called for the Batmobile, his own voice gone, replaced by a hollow echo.
When the Batmobile arrived, screeching to a halt in the alley, Bruce scooped Tim up, his movements swift and practised. He looked at Dick, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions Dick couldn't decipher.
"Get to the cave," Bruce ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Dick could only nod, his body a statue carved from despair. He watched as Bruce disappeared into the Batmobile, the red taillights vanishing into the night, taking with them a piece of his soul.
Alone in the blood-soaked alley, the weight of his failure crashed down on him. He hadn't been able to protect Jason, and now, he had failed Tim too. The guilt was a crushing tsunami, threatening to drown him. He sank to his knees, the cold concrete biting into his skin, a welcome contrast to the inferno raging within him.
Slowly, the hallucination faded, but the sight of Tim, pale and motionless, was no less horrifying. The red stain on his shirt grew larger, a macabre bloom mirroring the one that had claimed Jason's life.
A choked sob escaped Dick's lips, tears blurring his vision. He couldn't stay here, couldn't face the echoing silence of the empty city. With a Herculean effort, he pushed himself to his feet, a tremor running through his limbs.
He stumbled back to his motorcycle, the vehicle suddenly feeling unfamiliar, a foreign object beneath his shaking hands. He revved the bike, the purr of the engine a distant echo in his ears.
The drive back to the Batcave was a blur. He didn't remember the streets he passed, the red and blue lights of police cars flashing by like phantoms in the night. He was on autopilot, driven by a desperate need to be with Tim, to somehow make things right.
By the time he reached the Batcave, the air hung heavy with a sterile scent and the rhythmic beeping of life support. Bruce and Alfred were there, a grim tableau of concern etched on their faces. Tim lay on the medical table, his chest rising and falling with the help of the machine, a stark contrast to the peaceful slumber he should have been in.
Dr. Leslie, her brow furrowed in concentration, worked on removing the bullets from Tim's abdomen. The exposed flesh, the glistening red, sent a wave of nausea crashing over Dick.
He stumbled back, his legs giving way beneath him. Bruce caught him before he could hit the floor, a firm hand on his shoulder. Dick could only stare at the scene before him, his mind numb, his body a hollow shell. Bruce’s face was tight, eyes filled with… disappointment?
Of course Bruce was disappointed.
Dick had failed. He had failed them all. And the worst part? He didn't know if he could even face Tim if he lived. Because how could he look at his little brother, his Baby Bird, and not see the ghost of Jason staring back at him?
Bruce's hand tightened on Dick's shoulder, his voice low and gravelly. "Get some rest, Dick."
But Dick saw only disappointment in his father figure's shadowed eyes. Disappointment in his weakness, his inability to protect. Jason's lifeless face flickered again, superimposed on Tim's pale form. He heard the words Bruce was too stoic to say: You failed. This is all your fault.
So Dick decided to say them instead.
"No," Dick rasped, his voice raw. "It's my fault. I failed him, just like I failed Jason."
The words tumbled out, laced with a self-loathing that twisted his insides. He couldn't stay here, not under this suffocating weight of his failures. Not with Bruce's silent judgment hanging in the air.
With a surge of adrenaline that surprised him, he ripped his arm free and stumbled back. "I… I need some air," he choked out, the words a desperate plea for escape. He didn't wait for a response, just bolted towards the Batcave entrance, the image of Jason's lifeless eyes burning into his retinas.
He didn't remember the ride into the city. His mind was a chaotic storm, replaying the events of the night on a loop. The alleyway, Tim's crumpled form, the sickening sight of Tim's wound. The crushing guilt, a relentless tide threatening to drown him.
He reached Babs’ old apartment on autopilot, the familiar surroundings offering no solace. He hadn’t come here in years, why now? He couldn’t stay here, he shouldn’t be here. He needed to run.
Without a second thought, he twisted the keys once more, the engine roaring to life the moment he threw himself on the bike. He sped through the city, the wind whipping at his face, a welcome sting against the numb terror that had him in its grip.
He had no destination, no plan. Just the desperate need to escape, to outrun the demons chasing him. As he weaved through deserted streets, a familiar landmark caught his eye – the old Gotham Mall, looming over him. And on the side at the top, nearly 20 stories high, a smaller gargoyle jutted out, barely visible in the night.
A jolt of recognition shot through him. It was Jason's favourite gargoyle, a hidden nook he used to visit after patrols. The memories were still crystal clear in Dick’s mind – sharing greasy Batburger take-out and laughing at each other's jokes. A bittersweet memory, tainted by the weight of his guilt.
He pulled over, the bike screeching to a halt on the deserted street below the tower. He grappled up, climbed the building with practiced ease, his movements fuelled by a morbid curiosity.
As he reached the gargoyle, a wave of vertigo hit him. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down. Heights hadn’t bothered him in years since his parents’ deaths. The bustling city stretched out below him, a tapestry of twinkling lights and inky shadows. The street seemed a dizzying distance away, a good twelve stories down.
He felt a strange sense of calmness wash over him. The city, once a symbol of hope and justice, now mirrored the chaos within him. Here, perched on the edge, he could almost see the peace of oblivion beckoning.
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Was this the only way to escape the ghosts that haunted him?
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The wind howled around him, a chilling symphony to his despair. Below, the city lights bled into a blurry mess, the distance both terrifying and strangely inviting. A voice, insidious and cold, slithered into his mind. 'They're better off without you, Dick. All you do is bring pain. Jason, Tim, your parents...even Barbara left ‘cause she saw she’s better off far away from you.'
The names echoed in the vast emptiness of his mind, each one a fresh stab of guilt. Jason's lifeless face superimposed itself onto the city lights below, a horrifying reflection of his failure. Tim, pale and broken, joined the macabre image. His parents plummeted into the abyss, their screams lost in the whistling wind. Bruce's face, etched with disappointment, loomed large.
A choked sob escaped Dick's lips. This pain, this crushing weight of failure, was unbearable. He could end it all here. Finally find some peace, some solace in the oblivion below. It wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't bring them back, but at least it would stop the pain. He wouldn't be a burden anymore.
This would be better for everyone.
A tear streaked down his face.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. This was it. This was the only way out. As he leaned forward, a hand slammed onto his shoulder, yanking him back from the edge.
He stumbled back, heart hammering against his ribs, eyes flying open to see a large figure standing behind him. The moonlight cast an eerie glow, obscuring the figure's face. But the voice, a familiar rasp that sent shivers down his spine, cut through the chaos in his mind.
"Wingding, what are you doing?!"
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Disoriented, Dick's eyes snapped open, the city lights swirling before him. A hand, rough and calloused, gripped his shoulder again. Someone was calling out to him, desperate, but it seemed so far away. He blinked the grogginess from his eyes, his breath catching in his throat.
Standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight, was Jason.
Jason, in the Red Hood gear, minus the helmet. His face, too old and grown-up, was etched with a mixture of anger and something that looked… like concern?
But there, superimposed on the living Jason, was a horrifying image of Jason's lifeless body, the grotesque grin of death frozen on his face. Dick's mind reeled. Was this real? Was Jason a hallucination conjured by his fractured mind?
"I'm sorry," Dick choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "I couldn't save you. I'm the reason you're dead…"
Jason swore under his breath. This wasn't good. Dick's voice was thick with despair, his eyes glazed with a terrifying emptiness.
"Dick, listen to me," Jason said, taking a tentative step closer. "It's me, Jason. You're not hallucinating."
His words seemed to be filtered through a thick fog in Dick's mind. They didn't register. He took a stumbling step back, the world tilting precariously beneath him.
Finally, this would end.
"Dick, don't do this!" Jason yelled, his voice laced with desperation. He lunged forward, grabbing for Dick's arm. But in his haste, he overshot, his own momentum causing him to stumble.
Dick flinched at Jason's movement, his gaze fixed on the horrifying apparition that mirrored Jason. He saw Jason's hand reaching out, but didn't register the concern in the action. To him, it seemed like a desperate lunge to drag him over the edge.
He let out a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. "Leave me alone," he mumbled, collapsing backwards, his body hitting the rough stone of the roof behind the gargoyle with a heavy thud. “I failed you. Failed Tim. Bruce. My parents. Everyone.”
Jason landed hard beside him, the wind knocked out of him. Dick didn’t fully register bulky arms wrapping awkwardly around him, his face being pressed into leather in an imitation of safety. This was the Red Hood, for God’s sake! Dick really should run away. But why did the criminal save him?
“Look, Dickface, you were in space when I died, okay?” A voice shouted in the distance. “Fuck, don’t give up on me… Dick, hey, stay with me…”
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He was being lifted.
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Everything was a blur. City lights below him – above him? He couldn’t tell. Leather wrapped around him, someone in Kevlar holding him tight.
Sounds, distant, too bright.
Too muffled, at the same time.
The world was a swirling kaleidoscope of pain and fragmented images. One moment, Dick saw the distorted city lights, the next, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Then, darkness.
He surfaced again to find himself being lowered onto a cool, firm surface. A pair of gentle hands, large and calloused, held him steady. A familiar scent, sterile yet homey, reached his nose. "Alfred?" he rasped, his voice dry and thick.
The reply was a murmur, barely audible. Then, a flash of Red Hood’s logo, stripped bare of the leather jacket and paired with a familiar black-haired boy – Jason? But how…? Wasn’t he…
A new image snapped into focus. Tim. Lying still on a bed next to him, pale but undeniably breathing. Machines whirred and beeped rhythmically, a comforting counterpoint to the frantic hammering of his own heart.
Tim was alive. A wave of relief so intense it almost knocked him out again washed over him. He had failed him, failed them all, but Tim was alive.
Then, another thought wormed its way into his muddled mind. How did he get here? Where was Jason? He tried to lift his head, but a searing pain shot through his temple, forcing him back down.
"Easy, Dick," a calming voice said, a hand pressing gently on his forehead. "You need rest."
He recognized Bruce's voice, but it sounded distant, muffled as if underwater. He wanted to ask about Jason, about how they got back, but his eyelids felt heavy, the effort of forming a single thought monumental.
The confusion deepened. Had Jason carried him? How was that possible? More importantly, how was Jason even there?
He drifted in and out of consciousness, the fragmented images blurring further. Alfred's face, a mask of concern, swam into view. Briefly, he thought he saw Jason lurking in the shadows, his helmet back on, obscuring his face. But then, the image dissolved, replaced by Tim's pale visage, the rhythmic beeping of the machine a lullaby against the storm in his head.
Just as he was about to grasp at the question of Jason's presence, exhaustion claimed him. His eyelids fluttered shut, the darkness finally a welcome embrace. The swirling questions, the self-loathing, everything faded into a blessed oblivion. He couldn't fight the demons in his head right now, not when the one battle truly won mattered most – Tim was alive, and maybe, just maybe, so was Jason.
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Dick could see his parents’ mangled bodies on the ground, far, far below.
He was balanced precariously on a swinging trapeze, his hold on the wire loose. He’d be joining them soon.
Tears, free-flowing, streamed down his face as he stood, letting go of the wire. Then he was jumping, letting go of his grappling hook, letting himself fall.
He was falling, falling, falling..
The ground hurtled closer yet seemed so far away, his Robin cape billowed in the wind above him. Bloody corpses on the floor raised their hands to him, beckoning.
Join us in peace.
The last Flying Grayson, he thought with a morbid smile. Meeting the same fate.
Then a voice called out to him – Jason? Then another one. Tim. They… were grieving him?
The ground, now bloody and shattered, came closer and closer, when Dick suddenly realised, NO.
No, he didn’t actually want to die.
He had Timmy, Bruce, Alfred, Babs, Haley, Wally, Roy, Kori, all his other friends…
No, he couldn’t die.
But it was too late.
He hit the floor with a sickening crunch, feeling every second of pain as his bones crushed, as his flesh splattered on the ground next to his parents, as his breath abruptly stopped.
He was dead.
Dead, dead, DEAD—
NO!
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Dick jolted awake, gasping for air. His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. The remnants of a nightmare clung to him, a chilling memory of falling, the wind whistling past his ears, the ground rushing up to meet him. He shuddered, pulling the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders.
His surroundings swam into focus – the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor next to him. Tim. He was still unconscious, but alive. A wave of relief washed over Dick, a bittersweet counterpoint to the lingering terror of his dream.
A low murmur reached his ears, a conversation in hushed tones. He strained to listen, his heavy eyelids threatening to close again.
"…didn't expect you back, Jason," Bruce's voice rumbled, an undercurrent of surprise evident.
"Not like you were exactly sending out welcome parties, Bats," came the sardonic reply, unmistakably Jason's. He was… alive! There was a defensive edge to his voice, but a touch of something else too, something Dick couldn't quite decipher.
"That's not the point," Bruce countered. "But… thanks. For what you did."
A scoff escaped Jason. "Don't make me out to be some hero. I only came back for Dick."
Dick's breath hitched. Jason came back… for him? A flicker of warmth ignited in his chest, a spark of hope amidst the ashes of despair. Despite the gravity of the situation, despite everything, a tiny part of him bloomed with joy.
“You’re always welcome here, Jaylad,” Bruce’s voice sounded again, low and vulnerable.
But the effort of staying awake was proving too much. His eyelids fluttered shut, the words "for Dick" echoing in his mind like a lullaby. He drifted back into sleep, the remnants of his nightmare replaced by a sliver of hope, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to outrun the demons that haunted him.
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Dick blinked open his eyes, the harsh morning light momentarily blinding him. His head throbbed with a dull ache, the memory of the nightmare a distant echo. He turned his head, surprised to find himself back in his room at Wayne Manor. The familiar mahogany furniture and plush bedding offered a stark contrast to the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary.
Sitting beside his bed, his back ramrod straight, was Alfred. The usually unflappable butler looked older, more weary than Dick had ever seen him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly as he set a glass filled with a clear liquid on the bedside table. "Electrolytes, Master Dick," Alfred said, his voice gruff with unspoken concern. "Dr. Leslie advised us to get some fluids in you."
Dick reached for the glass, his throat parched. "Thanks, Alfred," he rasped, his voice hoarse. He took a tentative sip, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in his throat. He glanced across the room, his gaze landing on a figure slumped asleep in a corner armchair. It was Jason, the Red Hood helmet resting on the floor beside him, the harsh red of his gear clashing with the soft, floral-patterned fabric of the chair.
"Jason?" Dick croaked, his voice thick with confusion. "Isn't he… isn't he…" He trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat. How could Jason be here, alive?
Alfred's lips pursed into a thin line. He looked at Jason for a moment, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing his face. "There's a lot to explain, Master Dick," he said finally. "But it's a conversation perhaps best left between you and your brother." He straightened, his voice regaining its usual firm tone. "We'll need to get some real food into you soon. Your body needs its strength back."
With that, Alfred turned and left the room, leaving Dick alone with the sleeping Red Hood – Jason. His mind raced. Jason was alive, that much was clear. But how? So many questions swirled in his head – a tangled mess of confusion and disbelief.
He soft sound of Alfred shutting the door was enough to jolt Jason from slumber.
"Hey, Dickwing," Jason rasped, his voice rough from disuse. As Dick focused, he noticed the glint of emerald green in Jason's eyes – they used to be blue... But the biggest shock was how much Jason had grown. He was older, his features hardened with time and experience, the lines etched deep around his eyes telling their own story.
"How...?" Dick's voice cracked, barely a whisper. "How is this even possible?" The news that Jason was alive should have been a joyous one, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But it was overshadowed by the crushing confusion and a tangle of unanswered questions.
Jason shifted in the chair, the leather creaking in protest. He reached for his discarded helmet, running his fingers over the red skull emblazoned on its surface. A deep sigh escaped his lips, heavy with a mixture of regret and defiance.
"There's a lot to unpack, Dick," he said finally, his gaze meeting Dick's. "Bruce knows. He figured it out a while back."
Dick stared at him, his brow furrowed. "Knows what?"
"That I'm alive," Jason confessed, the words sharp like a knife. "And that…that I'm Red Hood."
Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante that had been terrorising Gotham for months? The same man who’d tortured Timmy? It couldn't be… could it? A wave of nausea washed over him, the confusion churning in his gut.
"But…but I saw you…," he choked out, the memory of the funeral, of Jason's lifeless body, a vivid nightmare.
"You did," Jason agreed, his voice low and sombre. "I came back, somehow. Not sure on the details. But Talia… she found me. Used some Lazarus Pit mumbo jumbo to truly bring me back."
He paused, his gaze flickering away from Dick. "After that, I was…lost for a while. Angry, vengeful. I blamed everyone, Bruce, the Joker… you..." His voice hardened as he uttered the last part, a flicker of pain flashing across his green eyes. “I took it out on the kid. I… I’m so sorry about that, I don’t… I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…”
Jason cleared his throat, looking down at his hands.
"Then Bruce found me. I… I let him find me. He talked me down, pulled me out of that spiral. I went dark for a while, trying to figure my life out. But…" Jason hesitated, his jaw clenching. "Seeing you on that rooftop, about to…" he choked on the words, his hand tightening around the helmet.
"About to jump," Dick finished for him, a wave of understanding washing over him. It was accompanied by immense guilt, fear, dread. He was about to jump.
Jason nodded, his voice thick with emotion he tried to hide. "The thought of losing you… You weren’t just supposed to die like that, just leave, and…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The raw vulnerability in his voice, so unlike the hardened Red Hood persona, sent a pang through Dick's heart.
"So you came back," Dick said, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "To the Manor, to us?"
"Yeah," Jason admitted, meeting Dick's gaze head-on. "I still have scores to settle, and this city needs someone cleaning up the streets. But seeing you like that… it scared me, okay? And I don’t say that often.”
The admission hung heavy in the air. Dick looked at Jason, his heart overflowing with a mix of joy, confusion, and a touch of fear. There was so much to unpack, so many questions to be answered. But for now, the weight of his grief had lessened, replaced by a sliver of hope. His brother, against all odds, was alive.
“Please don’t do that again,” Jason whispered, startling green eyes focused on Dick’s.
“I…” Dick’s throat tightened. The hallucination of Jason’s corpse superimposed over the real Jason again, but Dick pushed it away. “I won’t. I promise.”
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Jason left after a minute, unable to take the emotionally charged conversation for too long, leaving Dick alone with his thoughts. He didn’t even get to hug his little brother.
The silence that followed Jason's departure was deafening. Dick stared at the empty chair, his mind racing with a million questions. How long had Bruce known? Why didn’t he tell Dick? And how had Jason become the brutal Red Hood?
A storm of emotions churned within him – relief at Jason's return, anger at the deception, and a gnawing fear for the path his brother had chosen. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a fragile hope flickered. Jason had come back. He had cared enough to risk everything to save him.
Lost in his thoughts, Dick hadn't noticed the soft knock at the door. It creaked open, revealing a weary Bruce Wayne. His usually stoic expression was etched with lines of worry and guilt, a stark contrast to the calm, collected persona he usually donned.
Dick flinched, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. This was his fault. The worry etched on Bruce's face, the exhaustion in his eyes, it was all a reflection of the pain he'd caused.
"Can I come in?" Bruce asked, his voice gruff but laced with a vulnerability Dick hadn't seen in years.
Dick nodded, unable to form the words to respond.
Bruce entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, to Dick's surprise, Bruce did something he hadn't done in years. He crossed the distance between them and pulled Dick into a tight embrace.
The sudden gesture caught Dick off guard. He stiffened for a moment, unsure how to react. But as Bruce held him close, Dick felt a wave of warmth wash over him, a stark contrast to the icy grip of guilt that had held him prisoner for so long.
"I'm so sorry," Bruce whispered into his hair, his voice thick with emotion. He repeated the words over and over, a broken mantra that spoke volumes.
Understanding dawned on Dick. Bruce wasn't just apologising for keeping Jason's secret. He was apologising for everything – for the pain of their parents' death, for the weight of being Robin, for failing to protect them both. Yet at the same time Dick wasn’t sure why Bruce was apologising – he wasn’t the one who’d just tried to commit suicide.
Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce, a silent response to his apology. He didn't need words.
Dick wanted to be mad at Bruce, for keeping Jason’s return a secret. But then again, he… he wanted comfort. However undeserving he was of it.
He pulled away after a minute, looking at Bruce with tears in his eyes. “Where… how’s Tim?”
Bruce’s expression shifted, but Dick couldn’t read him – since when could he not read Bruce?!
He feared the worst, but instead Bruce replied, “He’s awake. On bedrest for two weeks.” Before Dick could comment on that, he added, “Just like you.”
Dick flinched.
Bruce sighed, his hand cupping Dick’s face. “Are you okay?”
Dick melted into his foster father’s touch, a tear slipping out of his eye. “No,” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Warm, steady arms wrapped around him again, pulling him into another hug. “Shh,” Bruce whispered, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here now, okay?”
After a minute of this, Bruce asked quietly, “Are you… Do you still want to…”
Do you still want to jump? Dick heard the unsaid question that hit like a stab to his heart.
“No,” He forced out as his throat threatened to close up. “I don’t – I didn’t actually want to—”
“Then what were you thinking?” Bruce’s voice is uncharacteristically small, pained.
“I wasn’t,” A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he clung to Bruce. The embrace felt like a lifeline, anchoring him in a sea of swirling emotions. He wanted to be angry, at Bruce for keeping Jason's return a secret, at himself for breaking down so completely.
But the anger wouldn't ignite. In its place was a numb despair, a crushing weight of guilt that threatened to consume him. "I just… I don't know how to fix this," he mumbled, his voice thick with despair.
Bruce remained silent, his hold a comforting pressure against Dick's back. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice gruff but laced with a gentleness Dick hadn't heard in years. "There's nothing to fix, Dick. You didn't break anything."
The words hung in the air, a challenge to the narrative Dick had built in his mind. He pulled away slightly, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "But I did. I failed Tim, failed Jason…"
"No," Bruce interrupted, his voice firm yet soft. "You didn't fail, Dick. You saved them. You saved Tim from me, when I wasn’t at my best. And Jason… seeing you like that, on the edge… that was his wake-up call. It reminded him what he almost lost."
Dick stared at Bruce, his brow furrowed in confusion. Bruce was right about Tim, but Jason… how could him seeing his big brother on the edge like that be a good thing? No child should have to see that…
But he’s not a child now. He’s grown up…
"Jason went off the rails," Bruce continued, his voice low. "Consumed by anger and vengeance, controlled by the Lazarus Pit. But seeing you, realising what he could lose… it pushed him back from the edge. Maybe… maybe it can be a turning point for him."
A sliver of hope, fragile yet persistent, began to bloom in Dick's chest. Was Bruce right? Could Jason actually be on a path towards healing?
Bruce squeezed his shoulder gently. "We'll figure it out together, Dick. As a family. But right now, you need to focus on healing yourself."
Dick met Bruce's gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. The apology, the comforting embrace, it wasn't just about Jason's secret. It was about everything – the weight of the past, the burden of their vigilante roles, the unspoken fear that had gnawed at them both.
He nodded slowly, a small, shaky smile forming on his lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. A way to deal with the guilt, the grief, the fear. He wouldn't be alone. He had Bruce, and Tim, and Alfred, and now… he had Jason too.
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Dick sank into the worn leather armchair, the familiar creak a comforting presence in the otherwise tense atmosphere of Wayne Manor. Weeks had passed since his breakdown, and he was slowly piecing himself back together. The manor, a place that often felt like a battleground of memories, was currently an oasis of sorts. It was strange, having everyone under one roof again, a makeshift family reunion brought on by tragedy.
Haley had settled well into her new environment at the Manor, loved it, even. Why wouldn’t she? After all, everyone here found reasons to spoil her rotten. Right now she was running across the room, chasing a toy Jason threw. She stopped just long enough to press her wet nose into Dick’s hand, waiting until Dick rubbed the back of her ear before she bounded back to Jason. Jason ruffled her fur, whispering sweet words and kissing her face.
"Who knew you were a dog whisperer, Jay?" Dick remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Jason glanced up, a scowl flickering across his features before softening at the sight of Haley. "I’m not gonna be mean to a dog," he muttered, tossing the toy across the room again. Haley bounded after it, barking excitedly. “Plus, she likes me. Do you know how few people like me?”
The dynamic between him and Jason was…complicated, to say the least. Jason came and went like a phantom, his presence always shrouded in a tense silence. Dinners, once lively affairs filled with banter, were now punctuated by awkward silences and stolen glances. Jason avoided Tim completely, the air thick with unspoken resentment. Tim returned the favour, too skittish around the older boy. The Titans Tower incident still resonated deeply, a fresh wound on both of them.
Dick, caught in the middle, felt the weight of their fractured relationship. There were moments when he saw flashes of the Jason he remembered – the sardonic wit, the fierce protectiveness, ghosts of the sweet boy he used to be. But those moments were fleeting, overshadowed by the hardened vigilante he had become.
"Haley does favour you, Master Jason," Alfred observed, entering the room with a tray of steaming tea. He set it down on the coffee table, his gaze lingering on Jason. "Though I wouldn't recommend letting him chew on your jacket."
Jason snorted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Noted, Alfred."
Despite the tension, there was a flicker of warmth in the interaction. Dick realised, with a pang of sadness, that these fleeting moments of normalcy felt all the more precious because they were so rare.
"Miss Barbara came by while you were resting," Alfred added, placing a small bouquet of lilies on the side table. "She asked me to tell you she misses you." He looked between his boys. “Both of you.”
Dick felt his heart skip a beat. Barbara had visited? He hadn't spoken to her since their break-up, the weight of his emotional turmoil driving a wedge between them. The lilies, their white blossoms a symbol of purity and new beginnings, offered a sliver of hope.
"I miss her too," Dick admitted, a melancholic note in his voice. Across the room he saw Jason’s faraway, guilty look, how he absentmindedly patted Haley.
The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a quiet lull. Dick and Alfred chatted about Gotham's latest crime wave, the normalcy of the conversation a balm to his troubled soul. As evening approached, the manor was cloaked in an eerie silence. Tim had retreated to his room, while Jason vanished into the night, leaving only the faint scent of leather and gunpowder in his wake.
Dick sat alone with his thoughts, a tangle of emotions churning within him. He was alive, his family, albeit fractured, was reunited. But the road to healing, both for himself and for the relationships shattered by grief and anger, seemed long and perilous. Yet, as he looked down at the lilies, their fragile beauty a testament to resilience, a single thought bloomed in his mind – hope. He wouldn't give up on his family, or on himself. There was a chance, however slim, to rebuild what was broken, to forge a new path forward, together.
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He was…
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He was so glad he was still alive.
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It still hurt, he still had nightmares despite knowing everything was better now, but…
He wasn’t alone anymore.
His brothers were both with him, Bruce loved him again…
Everything was better.
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He was so glad he hadn’t jumped.
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Departure
1,424 words | The black prince [WT] (sequel to Ozriel)
Content | Power imbalance, mute whumpee, language barrier, mention of/implied: past captivity, past torture
Notes | Orafin and Elgar go on their way!
Taglist | @echo-goes-aaa @whump-blog @scoundrelwithboba @whumpcreations
Night had now properly fallen. The crown let them have their hug for a long moment—Elgar could feel their eyes on him like burning fire, and wondered what went through their head, seeing their regal brother so closely entangled with one like him; surely it reflected on them if it were known, somehow? he couldn’t imagine they approved, however affable they had been, but he desperately needed that hug—but eventually, they sat up all businesslike, and that little movement was enough to signal to the prince it was time to stop.
»You should get some rest,« the crown said, gently, when the prince turned back towards them. Their eyes, once again, grazed Elgar as well, as if they meant them both. »But we should lay out some plans. As soon as you feel ready to travel—«
The prince nodded firmly, and looked over at Elgar, who joined in, rather more hesitantly. Yes, no, he was ready to travel. He just wasn’t ready for this whole situation.
»I think the best thing will be to come back to Akreh with me, then Orina and her escort can take you from there. You’ll go to Borrim until you’re fully recovered, then you can return to Atcill. Although…« They sighed. »You should probably appear as soon as possible.«
The prince nodded, his eyes determined. Atcill was the capital of Ochuria, Elgar knew that much—as for Borrim, he could only guess. A sickhouse? Would a royal go to a common sickhouse, moreso if they weren’t physically ill?
The prince had scribbled something down on his slate, and now the crown eyed him with plain worry on their face. »If you’re quite sure.« Then they turned to Elgar. »You will travel to Borrim together, one of our countryside estates—it will be nice and quiet. His Highness has requested you go via our capital, so he may make a public appearance and put the people’s minds at ease about him.«
»Yes, your Majesty.« Elgar idly wondered if the offer to send him back home was permanent, or whether he had missed his chance. Not that it mattered, really. What could he do, anyway?
The crown considered him for a moment, then they nodded briefly and returned to the prince. »We’ll have to find someone to teach you to speak with your hands, of course. All of us, actually, when we have time. Why, of course,« they added with a small smile when the prince looked just about moved enough to start crying, giving him another half-hug. »And you,« they turned to Elgar once more, »will have to learn spoken Ochurian as well, if you intend to stay. It is probably best if you learn to read it, as well,« they added with a glance down at the prince’s slate.
»Yes, your Majesty. I—I would like that.« It was a terrifying prospect, to be stranded in this strange land with no way to communicate.
He wouldn’t be stranded, of course.
He would be at the mercy of the royal family. No one would be able to help him if things went awry.
He had to shove these thoughts down. The prince had promised to protect him. He simply had to cling on to that promise.
Presently, the crown smiled. »Very good. That’s settled, then. If you both are ready, we will travel tomorrow morning. After breakfast, you look-« They fell silent, their eyes filled with worry when they looked over their brother, skin and bones, worse than Elgar. He remembered how light the prince, who in his mind could not have been further from a prince then, had felt in his arms.
The prince swallowed, but smiled, and nodded.
*
Orafin woke early, the first light of dawn barely creeping in, yet found Elgar already awake, lying with his open eyes resting on him. Ozriel was already up—they had gone to sleep beside him, but now they were at the desk, writing letters. It felt so warm and safe to see them there, all busy being monarch; although the thought was immediately followed up with the sting of knowing it would never be their mother doing these duties again.
They immediately glanced over to him when he sat up. He shoved the grief aside for the moment—there would be time to grieve, surely; now wasn’t it—, smiled, and waved good morning.
Their smile in return looked strained. »Good morning. One moment.«
Orafin looked over to Elgar while they finished their paperwork. He couldn’t do anything but smile at him and squeeze his hand and he couldn’t wait for him to learn to read, for both of them to learn to speak in and understand signs, and he couldn’t even tell him that.
Elgar smiled and squeezed back, but his smile, too, seemed strained.
Orafin wondered whether he was still in pain, now unhappily looking forward to travelling with it. He had told the medic he was sore, but he hadn’t elaborated—and Orafin hadn’t wanted to expose him—and whether his body had been able to fully recover in the past two days, while dealing with the starvation and the exhaustion and the obvious anxiety, Orafin didn’t know.
It seemed unlikely, after everything Orafin had witnessed. Elgar had never been given time to recover any more than he had, and though his injuries might be subtler, Orafin didn’t doubt they were still there, struggling to heal amid renewed assaults.
It would probably hurt him to ride. But Orafin couldn’t tell him to tell the medic without revealing at least some of what had been done to him to Ozriel or someone else, so he could only hope Elgar would know to speak up if things got too bad.
Orafin would hurt, too. He was bruised all over. But it would be worth it to see his sister, and go home, and see the rest of his family and friends.
Once Ozriel had finished what couldn’t be more than the sentence they had been writing, they called for breakfast. Two days of consistent food hadn’t been enough to take the magic out of it for Orafin. He briefly tried to remember his manners before the crown, like he was supposed to, but Ozriel just shook their head.
»Please just eat. No-one’s here to watch.« They were speaking in Teeradian, and once again included Elgar with a smile.
Maybe, if he stayed with them, he would eventually have to learn courteous manners. Orafin hoped he wouldn’t mind.
Then it was time for Orafin to get used to his legs again.
They felt fragile and weak under him, having been out of use for a week now. Ozriel helped him up and called for one of his attendants to support him on his way to the stables, so that Orafin could pick out a horse.
The soldiers cheered when they saw him, and his lips smiled all by themselves. He even managed a little wave.
Terrav was going with them, and pointed out the horse they had arrived on. By light of day, and with a clear mind, the mare was certainly nothing special; a pack pony probably, black and soft-eyed and small next to the crown’s horse, Maple, who stretched his head out to welcome his master.
Yet Orafin instantly knew he didn’t want to leave her behind. But now that he thought about it-
Elgar should have her. He took her.
The corner of Ozriel’s mouth twitched. »You’re right. This horse is rightfully yours,« they continued towards Elgar. »You took her as your prize. You can keep her, or you can sell her later when we can get you a better ride.«
Elgar simply stared at Ozriel, then at Orafin, who grinned at him, giving him an enthusiastic nod. »The horse… belongs to me?«
»Yes, if you will have her. You should probably name her.«
»Um.« Elgar stepped up to the pony, who was clearly indifferent to all of these humans around her, but accepted an awkward little face rub. »I think I’ll call her. Sparrow?«
He met Orafin’s eyes, and Orafin thought they were both reminded of the night they met the horse.
How Orafin had convinced Elgar to come with him by mimicking the protection of a vulnerable small animal. An injured little bird, perhaps.
Orafin swallowed down the knot in his throat, and nodded earnestly. He didn’t need to be reminded of his promise, and he would make sure his actions would eventually convince Elgar of that.
At sunrise, they left the outpost.
#whump#whump writing#mute whumpee#royal whump#royal caretaker#my writing#the black prince is apparently a tag that already exists#I'm getting a better and better feel for the whole story so maybe we'll have a proper title soon#orafin#ozriel#elgar
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i have two fears:
1. eddie dying
2. chris yelling at buck “you’re not my dad”
#there’s a lot of talk about eddie d word and i need y’all to stop#i already lay awake at night thinking about it#let’s NOT manifest it#buddie IS endgame#buddie#911 on fox#eddie x buck#eddie diaz#evan buckley
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So I'm an area director at a summer camp, but yesterday my boss called me and asked if I'd be down to be the director of two areas and I said yes without thinking about the consequences. So now I'm the director of two areas? That means two groups of staff to train and lead, two sets of lesson plans, two areas to teach at and make the schedule for and make the lesson plans for, two physical areas to set up. They're right next to each other, but this is going to be fucking insane
#the reason this is happening is because we dont have a dining hall director anymore because the first decided to take summer classes#and the second got a research position. so the director of the area that my area is right next to. volunteered to switch#so the camp director called me yesterday and was like 'this is all happening would you want to take on another area?'#so i would be director of both. with kind of a concentration in the new one. while my assistant director concentrates on the first one#but id still have to lead both staffs. teach at both. be available to both. do records for both. set up both#i start thinking about it and i always realize another thing thats gonna be weird about it#but on the bright side ive decided i cant do the 5 mile hike requirement for my old area#every thursday we do a five mile hike for our class because its for requirements. and i hate it cuz its hard lol#but i realized that it wouldnt really work out for me to be across the lake with one area and leave the other area directorless#so guess i cant do that! oh nooo /s#but i have to make two teaching schedules.whoch i started last night#i have to both teach a suitable amount in both areas but also have enough free time to be flexible and available for both#i am so tired already. and i just got this news yesterday#i was up until 5am because i was planning shit and then i layed awake anxious for another hour#also i watched the disruptors which admittedly got me to stay up pretty late too. the grant obrien and ally Beardsley movie#its very good. but mostly i stayed up late because i was trying to figure out being the director of two areas#i think about it for two seconds and i realize another reason itll be super hard. i have to introduce two staffs at the campfire#i have to talk about two areas at the leaders meeting. i have to learn a whole bundle of new merit badges#im so tired
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So I had my gallbladder taken out... Lot's to say about that in general but I think the one thing they should have warned me about that was not stated in the medical reports I read in the National Library of Medicine was that they pump your abdomen full of carbon dioxide gas to help create room for the removal. That was probably the most painful part of the whole thing...
Crazy how many different levels of pain there are. When you think you've reached complete understanding of pain, you discover a whole other level of pain beneath that. How far down does it go? How much pain does it take before the true disintegration of the human mind/soul?
And healing? Still pain, but less by the day. Less than the start, less than yesterday. Tomorrow will be less than today until it's gone and I forget the inconveniences of the smallest parts of the pain altogether, until it's all faded but just a memory.
I don't think I want to forget because that pain was important but I don't want to live in it again either.
#no one told me to prepare to wake up to excruciating pain#i still lay awake at night thinking about the level of pain I was in at the time I woke up from sedation#which is so different than the pain of the gallbladder attacks#the surrounding tissue was already inflamed and just having it pried apart by this gas made it worse#I have chronic pain but damn#it's way more manageable than the pain I endured for 10 weeks collectively
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 15: Bonnie
Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 7456 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst
A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.
Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.
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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise.
You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes.
“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom.
You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine.
You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past.
Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface.
Even he can’t protect you from this.
You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing.
John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem.
You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry.
You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one.
Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep.
You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness.
You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned.
You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?”
John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.”
You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief.
“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.”
Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades.
“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.”
You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.”
“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”
You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake.
You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it.
John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what.
You might never get to know.
It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep.
Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent.
“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you.
He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed.
“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons.
“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.”
You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any.
“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.”
You can only imagine how that went.
Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously.
“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door.
“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own.
“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.”
He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between.
“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..”
“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you.
You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do.
He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does.
He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”
“You're tired.”
You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright.
You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”
“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt.
Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm.
You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again?
“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.
Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”
“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”
Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response.
“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say.
“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”
Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”
He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”
“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”
“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”
You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger.
John trusts him, so you should be able to as well.
Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask.
Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own.
He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago.
“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.”
He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position.
“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.”
A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over.
“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.”
You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run.
“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him.
You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious.
“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.”
You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing?
You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good.
Is violence and death really the path to the greater good?
“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil.
You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.”
He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head.
He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.
His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady.
“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.”
He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired.
“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.”
It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch.
You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too.
All he's waiting on is you saying the word.
He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something.
The thought makes you want to cry.
“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump.
You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?”
“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book.
You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being.
“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face.
The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal.
You need to rectify this, and fast.
You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety.
Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory.
“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”
You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less.
“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door.
You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.
“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?”
Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.”
Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back.
“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”
You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line.
Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news.
“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?”
“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you.
“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes.
“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.”
He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.”
Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin.
“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers.
“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.”
Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours.
“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.”
You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver.
Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it.
“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip.
“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look.
The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room.
He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly.
“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.
“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”
“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”
“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”
Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.”
“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”
You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”
“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you.
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him.
“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.
He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal.
Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved.
Well, you suppose he is.
He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much.
It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you.
Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh.
“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.
You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg.
“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt.
He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric.
You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him.
“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?”
You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?”
He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you.
You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely.
“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread.
You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you.
“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face.
“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans.
You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets.
“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.”
You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation.
“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you.
Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips.
He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair.
“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage.
“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you.
The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position.
“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk.
He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers.
His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth.
You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin.
“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.
“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock.
“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday.
“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.”
Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs.
“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand.
Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm.
“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips.
You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other.
You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length.
“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his.
“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.”
You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position.
Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge.
Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck.
“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat.
You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life.
You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat.
“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.”
He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again.
You’re in for a long night.
Taglist:
@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph
#call of duty#call of duty fic#x reader#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#a/b/o#omegaverse#john price x reader#captain price x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle garrick x reader#gax x reader
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Never Alone ₊✩ˎˊ˗
rafe x reader angst/comfort ⊹˚.⋆
Summary: Rafe goes to sleep alone after reader doesn't listen to him, but something's missing.
Warnings: arguing/yelling, reader being in the wrong, insults and some stronger language
⊹˚.⋆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵⊹˚.⋆
“I can’t believe this.. I can’t believe you.” Rafe said, pointing an accusatory finger and shaking his head in disappointment.
You stood there, any bit of attitude that you walked in with had left your body the moment you saw the look in his eyes.
“Rafe, I just lost track of time!” You protested, unintentionally sounding whiny.
“You don’t fucking listen!” His voice raised and you stood smaller as he continued his rant, “Everything I say is in and out with you.” His eyes narrowed at your face.
There was only one thing that pushed Rafe off the edge; not listening to what he tells you. Months ago he had told you not to hang out with the pogues. Since then, you’d been sneaking around with them to not piss off your short-tempered boyfriend.
It’s proving to be true that you also should’ve listened to him when he told you to be ready for a gala by 6pm sharp tonight. The Cameron family was being honored at the country club for being generous contributors after a particularly large donation made by Rafe’s father. Of course, you found yourself adventuring with the pogues, stained with dirt and very far from home at 6pm.
According to him, Rafe had been covering for you all night, saying that you had the flu and wouldn’t be able to make it. Your arrival was heavily anticipated because your grandfather was a big name in the country club. In turn, Rafe needed you there to make conversation and for a good excuse to leave early. He was beyond livid when he stormed into the house at 9pm and realized that you still weren’t home. When you finally tried to sneak into the bedroom thirty minutes later, praying Rafe was still away and racking your brain for believable excuses, he was waiting with an angry red face.
It didn’t help your case at all when Rafe saw JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera driving away from his house.
“Rafe m’sorry-'' you tried to apologize again, but he cut you off.
“I don’t care!” He stared at you for a moment, taking in your expression before starting again, “Jesus, s’like you’re a child.” he mumbled, ready to end the night angry.
Until you rolled your eyes right as he turned around to face you again.
“Rolling your eyes at me, hm?” He said, the anger coming back into his tone, “y’know what? If you want to hang out with those assholes so bad, go on. S’where you belong.” He said, his tone biting into you as he turned again.
Tears welled in your eyes. You knew Rafe had brought you this kook lifestyle when you were struggling after your mother left the island. You thanked him for two weeks after you moved in with him, then the two of you didn’t speak about it. It’s been a year since then and this was the first time he had brought it up. You didn't think he'd hold it above you.
A sob escaped the confines of your throat when he slammed the door behind him. You let your body crumble, crying into your hands. He had barely let you get a word out and you hated him for it. You knew you were in the wrong, but his words kicked you in the gut.
You picked your own sobbing body up, quieting down and making your way to change from your dirty clothes. You could hear Rafe’s pacing steps and occasional annoyed sighs from downstairs. After wiping the dirt off of your body and getting changed, you laid in the huge bed the two of you shared, trying to distract yourself. You already knew that Rafe planned to sleep in a guest room downstairs and you told yourself it was fine.
An hour passed and turned into two, the clock ticking as you eventually watched three hours pass. You were restless, just like how you always were without Rafe. You both couldn’t sleep without the other’s company. You were going to lay awake all night until a soft knock on the door sounded around the room and an exhausted Rafe tried to quietly walk in. You sat up, looking at his hooded eyes.
“Rafe, I’m so sorry..” You took in a breath as you prepared to spit all of your reasons out at once.
“No, m’sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He breathed out, sitting on the bed next to you.
“No, Rafe. I was irresponsible, baby please.. please forgive me.” You whispered your last words, tears forming again, “I’ll listen. I promise I’ll listen.”
“Shh baby..” He cooed, laying down and holding you to him, “we can talk in the morning. Js need you..” He muttered.
You meekly smiled into him, happy to know that his soft spot for you hadn’t worn thin.
“I love you.” You whispered into his chest, but the only response you got back were his small snores.
⊹˚.⋆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵⊹˚.⋆
#outer banks#rafe obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron drabble#mariespen#obx angst#rafe cameron hurt/comfort
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kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.
featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.
when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.
truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.
so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.
he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.
instead, he shrugs.
"not much more to tell, cap."
"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."
and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.
"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."
it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.
of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.
the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.
"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.
"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"
"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."
"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"
"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."
your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.
"and you want me to let him?"
gaz nods. "if you'd please."
you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."
he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"
"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"
"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."
kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.
you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.
sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.
price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.
he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.
"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."
"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.
"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.
"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."
gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."
"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.
but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"
"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."
"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.
"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"
"of course."
"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"
"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.
fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.
"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.
but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"
"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"
you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.
"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.
"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."
an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."
"aye. i do."
"and i wanna make him happy."
"same for me."
and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.
"so, what'll it be?" you say.
"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."
you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.
"kyle."
"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.
"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."
"yes, sir."
"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."
"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"
this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.
all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–
flip your skirt over your hips.
a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.
"no panties, hm?"
"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.
"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.
"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."
it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.
the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.
"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"
"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."
"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."
he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.
but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"
he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"
"a-at least three times a go, sir."
"what's the record?"
"eight."
"and the longest you've held off?"
kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."
"tch."
a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.
and you...
you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.
so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"
"just mine, sir. and her toys."
"how about at once?"
kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.
yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.
"one, sir."
he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."
the finger plunges in.
gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.
"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."
"sir?"
"you cum inside her, lad?"
"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."
"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."
his hand inches up.
this time, it's gaz who groans.
loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.
"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."
"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"
"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.
"yeah."
you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.
"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."
his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.
so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.
a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.
"that's a good boy."
he could really get used to this.
#unedited!#this idea's been over my ass like a symbiote#cackling and rubbing its greedy little hands together#kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader x john price#kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader#john price x reader#john price x kyle garrick#pricegaz#kyle garrick#gaz garrick#captain join price#john price#x reader#female reader#call of duty
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Miguel And Your Baby Bump !
futuredad!miguel o'hara loves your cute baby bump ♥︎
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅🍼𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅🍼𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅🍼𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️
futuredad!miguel o'hara who wakes you up by gently caressing your stomach and lays his head against your belly bump. He plants soft kisses against your stomach as a little groan rises in your throat and you run your hands through his hair. "Good morning, mama," he would mumble softly.
futuredad!miguel o'hara who would love seeing you in cropped tops around the house with your baby bump peeking out. He would constantly be looking at you. He loved it when you wore tank tops. They fit a little small, so you just let them ride up your swollen stomach.
futuredad!miguel o'hara who loves to creep behind you whenever you're helping him out with dinner or getting ready in the morning. He hugs you from behind both hands on your belly. You smiled at him through the mirror as you put your earrings on. Beams of golden light spilled into the room and illuminated your skin, now riddled with Miguel's kisses. "I don't think I've ever seen a woman as beautiful as you are," he whispered, as he placed his chin on your head, and the two of you admired each other in a comfortable silence.
futuredad!miguel o'hara who makes a playlist with your favorite songs and plays them for the baby. He's big on prenatal music and would come home to you with a new classical music prenatal track that helps baby brain development or helps with soothing.
futuredad!miguel o'hara who used to sit in his study late at night reading up on books about his studies on genes and the multiverse, now spends most nights reading about healthy prenatal habits, postpartum health, and good parenting. Miguel, your workaholic husband who used to let work keep him awake, was now pulling all-nighters reading up on the best foods for pregnant women and babies, how to play with young babies, the best bottle cleaners, and different car seats.
futuredad!miguel o'hara who was always big spoon hands resting protectively around you and on your stomach. Miguel knew that when your baby was 25 weeks in the womb, he could hear. So on top of playing music, Miguel spoke to him. He told your baby about 'how mommy met daddy' and how his day went. He knew the baby couldn't understand him but he wanted your baby boy to recognize his voice. You started talking to your baby too sometimes.
futuredad!miguel o'hara who reads to you every night he can in front of the fireplace with your head in his lap as he runs his fingers through your hair. He was reading one of your favorite romance books to you and the baby when suddenly you felt little kicks. You gasped propping yourself up on your elbows. "Miguel!" you whispered, bringing his hand to your stomach where your baby was kicking. Miguel gasped when he felt the little kicks. The two of you laughed, feeling your son kicking like a little ninja in your stomach. "Looks like he already has his dad's soccer skills," he chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze.
. . .
next part → Miguel As A "Boy Dad" !
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅🍼𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅🍼𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅🍼𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️
#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel o'hara x you#astv miguel#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099 x reader#spider man atsv#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#astv x reader#miguel fanfic#miguel o#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o hara fluff#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel imagine#spiderman 2099#miguel o hara x reader#miguel fluff
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2am ☽༓･*˚⁺
bf!beomgyu x fem!reader
warnings: smut, reader is super horny n desperate for beomgyu at 2am, make out, oral f!recieving, face sitting, use of vibrator, safe(ish) sex, praise kink? cum eating, they are super messy lol.
wc: 4k
♫ title track: 2am - che ecru
･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ
thunder rumbles overhead and you're still restless under the sheets, thinking about the way beomgyu looked in his tight jeans today; the way his bulge naturally poked out a little too much to go unnoticed by you. you just wanted to palm him through his jeans, see that fucked out half-open smile when he's falling apart under your touch.
you replayed scenarios in your head, imagining all of the dirty things you would've done to him when you two sat on the couch earlier playing charades instead of fucking, which you so needed right now. nonetheless, you still had tons of fun with him earlier, you were just horny as hell right now lol.
you rubbed your thighs together at the dirty thoughts replaying in your mind as beomgyu lay "sound asleep" next to you, not knowing that his eyes had fluttered open moments ago from your sudden squirming. he had fallen asleep a while ago, lulled by your warmth and the whir of soft thunder and rain at your window, but here you were wide awake.
he turned around from being little spoon, suddenly facing you with slightly tired eyes, lips puffy from sleep, heavy head propped on his sandwiched hands. you just wanted to crash your lips to his, press your body so tightly to his and tangle all of your limbs together. but you feared maybe he wasn't in the mood and you didn't want to wake him any further.
but oh hell, did beomgyu know that horny look on your face; the way your eyes slightly narrowed with unholy thoughts behind them, subtle flush on your cheeks, body warm and threatening to break out in a sweat.
if it wasn't for your squirming, beomgyu would probably still wake up because of how hot your body temperature was, practically screaming out for some sexual attention.
oh yes, he noticed all of these things about your current state but he remained innocent, acting like he had but a clue in the world to what you were experiencing. just staring at you with tired puppy eyes barely visible in the warm glow of your night light.
"what's wrong baby?" he cooed in his deep, sleepy voice, not intending to turn you on the amount that it did. your legs were shut so tight, slick wetness beginning to seep past your panties and onto your thighs. oh was beomgyu in for a wet surprise.
"i-" you struggled to find the right words to say without saying what you really wanted to say; fuck me right now beomgyu, i need you inside me at this instant!
instead you searched his eyes with a half open mouth, the words caught in your throat and having to clear it a couple times. noticing your struggle to admit your horniness, beomgyu began trailing his fingers up your thigh, feather soft, making it even harder to speak out.
"it's okay baby, just say it. say whatever you want to say," his pinky finger began lightly prodding at your hot and throbbing clit through the wet fabric, stifling a moan as he ever so slowly slipped his pinky past the elastic of your underwear.
"you looked so good today beomgyu. so fucking- hah," you were halted when he pressed his pinky to your absolutely drenched core, circling around your entrance without any added pressure.
"continue on my love, i'm interested," he was beginning to tease you, slowly inserting the tip of his pinky into you as you tried to form coherent sentences, already fucked out by his pinky. barely his pinky.
"i've just...been thinking about being stuffed with your cock all night and i thought i could make it through the night but i can't- i just can't gyu," you moaned out his name at the end, as he had slipped a hand under your (really his) baggy shirt and began circling your nipple with his cold fingertip until it was perky, pelting your entire body with chills.
"you need me to stuff you full of my cock? you could've just said that earlier baby," his deep voice trickled into your ear as he pressed a light kiss to your jaw in the dark, his entire hand already drenched by your juices as he hadn't even done much down there except prod at your clit and slightly finger you with one pinky. you nodded furiously.
"i can do that. i can do double that," he kissed your jaw again, reaching over you and into the drawer of the bedside table to pull out the pink vibrator you both kept there to use during frisky times like these.
he sensed just how badly you needed to be fucked, practically wetting the bed with your arousal and exuding feverish amounts of body heat with how horny you were. he'd be sure to give you the night you needed. give you everything he had in him; even bringing in the help of a toy, turning you on so much you nearly felt dizzy. beomgyu to the rescue!
and so he started out slow, leaning on his elbow next to you as he peeled back the sheets over your bottom half, rubbing the vibrator that had yet to be turned on over your underwear, making you whine out.
but you enjoyed the anticipation, moaning against his lips as you passionately made out. desperately tugging on the fabric of his plain black shirt. he got the memo and slid it off, running your hands down his warm, delicious skin, desiring to press your soon to be naked body to his so badly.
the pace of your make out was quickened as you sat up and he followed, pulling your night shirt off and abandoning it to the side, savoring your hot skin with his hands as he smoothed them over your chest, back, and waist.
you held his face as you kissed him, becoming rougher as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sucking at his plump lips. fuck- he was so delicious you just couldn't think straight, head buzzing with euphoria as you pressed your bare chest to his and felt the warmth seep from his skin, nipples perky against him.
you sat onto your knees with your ass in the air to help him slide your panties off, not noticing the strings of wetness clinging to the wet fabric in the dark, but then you immediately felt the cold air hit your wet thighs, making you aware of just how drenched you were.
"how are you this fucking wet? i love it," he nearly moaned against your neck as you leaned over him, collecting some of your juices with two fingers and placing them into his mouth, quickly crashing his lips back onto yours with sloppy tongue so that you could taste yourself on his lips.
"don't you taste so good?" he pulled away, gazing up at you starry eyed as you bit your lip and smiled, seeing his white teeth slightly peek through his lips in the dim light.
you were on all fours leaning over him, ass still in the air and he took advantage of this by sitting up on his knees, hand firm on your back to keep you in this position.
he turned the vibrator on but took his time nearing it to where you needed it most, watching you writhe as he placed it onto your leg, ass cheek, everywhere BUT your soaked and neglected pussy. you were on the brink of frustration, moaning and clenching around nothing desperately to notify beomgyu of how needy you were.
he was enjoying this; lip between his teeth, conscious of the throb in his dick as it lay flush against his stomach under his plaid pajama pants. he also couldn't wait to fuck you, but he wanted to treat you to as many orgasms as he could before it was his turn to stuff you with his cock as he had promised.
finally, the vibrator reached your clit as he held it between your legs from behind, your back arching as you let out a loud moan, head thrown back and hair messy over your face. it felt so good, especially the feeling of beomgyu's attentive eyes on you, controlling the speed and placement of the toy against your desperate clit.
wetness dribbled down your thigh, serving as beomgyu's cue to lick it up and savor more of your taste because he loved it, situating himself behind you and starting to lick up your thighs. you grew louder as he began to eat you out from the back, still holding the vibrator to your clit as he fucked you with his tongue, cursing at the sheer pleasure.
he too began to moan at how hot this was; you on all fours, ass in his face as he ate you out while double stimulating you, now triple stimulating you as his moans also vibrated against your entrance and had you nearly screaming.
you cried out incoherent sentences as he sucked the juices from your entrance, eyes rolling back as you were so close to snapping. you yelped when he turned the vibrator speed up a notch higher, right up against your swollen clit as you came hard, clenching around nothing but his tongue that was there to catch your juices as you rode it through your waves of pleasure.
so not to overstimulate you, he pulled the vibrator away from your wet folds and over to your nipples, perking up at the vibration over them.
you hung your head, nearly falling over from the instant fatigue after coming so hard. but he kept you there with a firm hand on your hip, kissing and licking your skin like it was an ice cream; tongue trailing all around your thighs, ass, and back, licking a long stripe to your ear as he gently nibbled on it and sent chills darting up your spine in small waves.
he rolled the vibrator off to the side, quickly sliding himself under you and helping you to straddle him, to which you immediately began messily undoing the strings of his pajama pants.
he lifted his hips and slid his fuzzy pants down along with his boxers, stained heavily with precum as he had grown painfully hard at the sight and sounds of you so needy for him.
the two of you were beautifully bare now, and you lowered your hips down to his, sitting on the underside of his warm, throbbing and rock hard dick, causing both of you to breathlessly moan out when you began to grind on it, whimpering when the rim of his tip perfectly massaged your aching clit.
slick sounds filled the room and you picked up the pace with the guidance of his firm grasp on your hips, already feeling the urge to come again just by the sensation of his warm cock sliding through your puffy folds perfectly.
"wait baby," he slowed your back and forth movements on his dick and looked up at you with his beautiful brown, doe eyes; both love and lust shining in their depths.
"come on my face?" he tilted his head slightly and you could just melt on sight. he was just too perfect and cute for this world, asking you for something so nasty, but sounding like the best idea in the world.
you smirked and leaned down to kiss him, his soft hand coming up to cup your cheek, tongue entering your mouth as it quickly got heated and his dick was prodding at your entrance. as badly as you just wanted to slide him inside of you, he made you wait for it which made it even better, like the cherry on top of all the foreplay.
using his hands to guide your hips, he groped at the plush of your ass, tracing little soothing circles over the red skin after squeezing it so hard. you crawled on your knees to position yourself over his pretty face, knees sinking into the pillows on either side of his dark head of hair.
he looked up at you like you were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, using his thumbs to spread your wet folds open as he licked his lips at the delicious sight, a low rumble in his throat as he groaned, hungry for you.
sitting down on his face with the guidance of his hands on your hips, he began to go at it; licking and sucking and slurping and making out with your lower lips, throwing your head back with a loud moan with how fantastic he was. sliding his fingers up and down your waist, pinching at your nipples to add to the pleasure.
while he was busy eating you out like you were the best meal he's ever had, you reached over to grab the vibrator, turning it on the lowest setting and reaching behind you to run it up the length of his cock, leaving it on his tip and he moaned into your folds.
he wasn't expecting to be teased back but to say he enjoyed it was an understatement. he fucking loved the sensation against his throbbing head mixed with your taste all over his mouth. and you loved it too, tongue stuffed so deep into you that you could feel his moans vibrate into you, lightly grinding your hips against his tongue to fuck yourself with it.
it wasn't long before you were completely riding his face, both fucked out of your minds as he mumbled incoherent words against your slick folds, lapping and flicking his tongue across your clit messily as he held it firm for you to use like a toy, so so close to unraveling all over him.
"how are you so fucking good beomgyu?" you moaned out, and you were sure the neighbors would probably know his name by now. the sound of you moaning his name like that, praising him and all, had him thrusting his hips up and into the vibrations on his tip, on the verge of exploding all over his own tummy.
all he could do was moan out, looking up at you with pleasure filled eyes, furrowed eyebrows as you rode his face, fingers interlaced with yours and palming your ass together as you felt your core reach its all time high, tightening around his tongue stuffed deep into you, coming all over his face as he sucked and lapped up your juices; the sounds of your lewd moans and whimpers having him drizzling warm cum all over and making a mess of his tummy and spilling over onto the sheets.
catching your breath and crawling in front of his thighs, you used your fingers to scoop up his cum, sucking your fingers clean of the slightly salty liquid, leaving him infatuated; eyes glued to you as he propped himself up on his elbows.
you licked his lower abdomen up completely, cum decorating your lips as you ran your tongue around to savor every last drop, his heart pounding at how hot you looked doing so. his body was about as hot as yours now, jaw slack as he stared at you in awe as you sucked your finger suggestively, intense eyes on his.
"you're so hot." he breathlessly mumbled, wetting his lips with the dart of his tongue over his open mouth, sweat beading at his forehead and daring to drip down onto his flushed, glimmering face. what a beautiful sight it was from your angle.
"says you," you still had your wits about you even after being drunk off of him, both looking at each other fucked out as ever.
he couldn't contain the sudden urge to manhandle you, suddenly sitting up and crashing his lips to yours as he secured an arm around your waist and hips, quickly flipping you over onto the bed so that you lay under him, pinning your hands down and above your head and interlacing them with his.
butterflies darted down your spine and into your stomach at his sudden assertion of dominance, melting against his warm body; willing to do anything and everything for this boy.
his sweet scent wafted into your nose and you felt right at home; arching your back up and into him to be as physically close to him as humanly possible.
"you wanna be stuffed with my cock hm?" he nudged your jaw with his nose and you could feel his smirk on your skin; moving your head aside to give him the access of your neck, blowing cool air into your ear and shivering as it traveled down your steaming skin. he just knew all the right things to do to have you so overcome with such hot arousal.
and holy shit, the way his voice turned you on was a whole other story; whimpering and squirming under his body and wrapping your arms and legs all around him. it simply melted you like honey, seeping into your brain and had blood rushing directly to your clit. so breathy and deep and amazing. and hearing his moans in your ear? you just couldn't wait to hear him moaning all loud like he always does when he's fucking you good.
"please gyu," you nodded, hair staticky against the pillow as your locks fanned out all over it. leaning down, he took your cute tits into his mouth, drunk on the way he swirled his tongue around each bud, subtly rutting his hips against yours; cock flush against your folds and threatening to slip inside at any moment.
he tapped his tip against your clit, releasing a mewl from your lips. you really thought he was going to fuck you in this position, but you thought wrong. suddenly, he picked you up and flipped you over again so that you lay on your stomach, hand firm on your lower back to keep you there.
he watched you for a moment from his vantage point, the way your pretty side profile was visible as you lay your head on the pillow, attractive back that just called his chest to lay flush to it, cute ass in full display as you slightly wiggled it in anticipation.
he palmed your plush cheeks with both of his warm hands, kneading the skin deliciously and sliding them up your back. pressing them by your sides as he lowered himself down, warm chest pressed to your back, lips right next to your ear now as his warm breath spilled into the shell.
he hooks your left leg so that the back of your knee is held with his the bend of his elbow, chin resting on your shoulder with gentle kisses to your skin. the moment you've been waiting for arrives; he takes his cock and circles the tip around your slippery entrance before sliding it into you so slowly, stretching you out deliciously.
you moan loudly into the pillow, ass pressing into his stomach as he's all the way in, so deep inside of you that you can feel the weight of his balls on your clit, walls clenching him so tightly; causing him to twitch and whimper into your ear. you bury your hot face into the cold pillow, heart racing at the sound of his sexy moans and whimpers melting into your brain.
he thrusts are deep and slow until he starts slightly picking up his pace into a rhythmic pattern, rolling his hips against the plush of your butt as the subtle sound of slapping skin and both of your moans fill the room in harmony.
"this what you needed baby?" he coos against your ear out of breath, voice sweet and fanning across your skin.
"yes beomgyu oh- fuck yes," you moan out repeatedly, so dumb on his cock that you could hardly form a coherent sentence. he has an idea that will get you even more fucked out, reaching over to grab the vibrator, placing it against your swollen clit, leg still hooked in his arm and lifted at the perfect angle.
your legs begin to shake as he simultaneously ruts his perfect dick into you, hitting your g-spot as he also satisfies your clit with the delicious buzz. you can't stop moaning his name; wanting to moan his name indefinitely because of how it rolls off your tongue just perfectly.
his brown hair is messy over his sweaty forehead as you turn to look at him; his mouth half open, lips glossy and half lidded eyes, absolutely pussy drunk.
he looks so fucking hot, so perfect and sexy that you don't think twice before pulling his neck to you with your free hand, sucking his lips into a hot make out, strings of saliva connecting you when you come up for a breath.
it's not long before sweat is dripping down his neck and down onto your back, slapping sounds against your ass and high-pitched moans loud enough to be heard well outside of the room.
he turns the vibrator up one more notch, eyes rolling back in your head as you feel overtaken with everything he's giving you, his moans growing louder as he can feel the vibrations through your walls and onto his cock.
"your pussy's so perfect baby. you're so perfect and you're all mine hah-," he deeply chuckles into your neck, sucking marks onto the skin, biting your shoulder gently but sure to leave a mark when he realizes just how close he is.
cursing against your back he holds your hip in place, judging by how loud and shaky you're growing, you'll come at any moment as well. his grip on you is sure to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips, marking you his.
nothing but i'm so close with spews of filthy words and each other's names exiting one another's mouths fill the room. his tip kissing the deepest part of you with every single thrust.
"cum all over me gyu, decorate me in your cum," you moan out as you feel him violently twitch inside you, that being the last straw before you're gripping the sheets so hard you could rip them, vigorously fluttering and clenching around his cock as you orgasm, entire body shaking.
"yeah? i can do that, watch me." he moans out of breath as he turns your chin to watch him; giving you two final thrusts before he pulls out, releasing so much cum all over your ass and back, its warmth inviting chills to the surface of your skin.
his head is thrown back, mouth open and adam's apple bobbing up and down as he moans your name mixed with profanities and other incoherent words. a sheen of sweat covers his entire body that's on full display for you, stomach tensing as he finishes releasing onto you. your insides continue to flutter, cheeks flushed from both sweat and because of how sexy he is, simply not able to take it anymore.
you collapse onto the bed and he follows right on top of you, making a mess of his own seed on himself, smearing between your back and his chest, not giving a shit about it with how fucked out you both were.
you thought you might be done, but you were only getting started.
it's three hours later and the two of you have been fucking all night, going as many more rounds as you could both muster. him on top of you, you on top of him, sideways, legs over his shoulders and nearly behind your head, legs pressed to your chest, hands above your head, hands tangled in his hair.
soft, hard, intimate, catching one another's moans in your mouths, lips puffy and red by now with nonstop making out.
and by the time you collapsed on top of him with your nth orgasm, the birds were chirping outside as the sun slowly began peeking it's bright eye through the blinds, casting warmth onto your skin and onto the now disheveled and sticky sheets.
panting and absolutely out of it, a few final i love you's were all you could physically say before you were fast asleep, sprawled out on top of him as he lay with his eyes nearly closed, tucking your hair away before placing a gentle kiss to your damp forehead.
you knew you could always count on your gyu to satisfy your horniness; on top of all the other ways in which he satisfied you. you were smiling in your sleep as the sun bathed you, his eyes soon fluttering shut.
let's hope you can walk tomorrow... was all he whispered into the damp air with a soft chuckle before falling asleep, chin resting on the crown of your head <3
･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ
a/n: if you made it this far, tysm for reading! i got this idea so late at night like... late-night gyu hours omg. nonetheless, i hope you enjoyed! :))
#txt beomgyu#beomgyu#choi beomgyu#beomgyu scenarios#beomie#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu smut#beomgyu fluff#beomgyu ff#beomgyu fic#txt#txt reader#female reader#txt imagines#txt fic#txt post#txt fanfic#txt fluff#txt smut#txt scenarios#beomgyu x you#beomgyu x y/n#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#gyu <3
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You asked for mike request and I only think abt him at the moment so imma tell you all of them.
-so mike coming home from work (established relation ship btw) and see you sleeping in his clothes and on his bed and just like awakens something in him like makes him love more.
THE COMFORT OF YOUR ARMS M.S
the gif i used is not mine! all credit goes to the owner!
Author’s note: thank you for requesting love!! this was such a cute ideaa i love my bf mike < 3
Mike Schmidt x gender!neutral reader
Warnings: nothing just fluff
masterlist
Mike was exhausted. It had been a long night and all he could think about was going home and cuddle up next to you. It was early in the morning when Mike locked the entrance to the pizzeria and tiredly drove back home. His mind felt blank, drained and all he could think about was you.
A soft hum escaped his lips as he finally unlocked the front door. The brunette sighed tiredly before kicking of his shoes and tossing his jacket somewhere on the couch. The house was quiet, the early sunlight beemed through the curtains making Mike muffle a soft yawn.
His feet dragged him to the bedroom, ready to fall on the soft duvet next to you. Mike blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the dark room but thanks to the early sunrise (and broken curtain you were working on replacing) he stopped Infront of the bed to admire you curled up wearing his favorite hoodie. You had your arms wrapped around a pillow together with his side of the blanket. Your boyfriend couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight in front of him. God. You looked beautiful. He thought. And as he predicted It once again felt like all of his worries disappeared the moment he saw you.
Your boyfriend carefully crawled next to you and successfully pulled away the pillow you were holding. A content smile crossed Mike's lips as he wrapped his own arms around you instead, kissing the top of your head in the process. His breathing relaxed as he enjoyed this peaceful moment he longed all night for.
Mike's eyes glanced up at the ceiling before reminding himself to remove the leftover tape of the Nebraska poster he ripped off. He knew how hard you had been trying to make his house more cozy and welcoming for him and Abby and he couldn't be more grateful. You were well aware of your boyfriend's dream adventures but Mike always made a promise to never wander off at night when you were with him. As much as you reassured him you didn't mind he kept his ground.
You knew how important 'sleep' was for Mike and this was a part of him you couldn't help with. This was his own journey. But still it was hard. You already saw Mike less often during the day because of your new office job and now you had to miss him during nights as well. When Mike was home, you didn't see a lot of him either, he kept himself tucked away in the bedroom reliving the same memory over and over again. It broke your heart seeing him so in pain, so absent and obsessed with memories even after all these years of knowing him. But it was a part of Mike you couldn't help him with, it didn't matter how much you tried, it was his journey. His way of finding peace. So moments like this, when you were both wrapped in each others arms you both savoured to the fullest.
Mike stroked your hair, making you softly stir before comfortably laying your head further on his chest. "hmm missed you." You mumbled tiredly, not really awake yet. Mike chuckled at your adorable state. His clothes looked so good on you and he couldn't help but feel some sort of pride of catching you wearing them when he wasn't around.
"Missed you too baby." He whispered before pressing another kiss to your hair. "Try getting some more sleep."
You hummed, slipping your hand under his shirt and wrapping your arm around his waist. "I love you." You murmured, already dozing off again.
"I love you more princess." He smiled, before the unbearable exhaustion took over and lulled him into sleep aswell.
My requests are open! :)
Let me know if you want to be added for future work!
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Buried in the pillow
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
A night of restless sleep ends better than expected. Based on;
warning: 18+ explicit content including edging, a little chocking, sexual intercourse, and dom spence
words: 4,6k (I got carried away😭)
a/n: am I supposed to be writing something else? Yes. Will it stop me from writing a slow, lazy sex scene? NO
MASTERLIST
“…you’re buried in the pillow, yeah you’re so loud…”
THERE WAS NO DENYING THE WARM FLOOD OF AROUSAL RUSHING IN HER SYSTEM. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse throbbing through her entire body. She readjusted herself along her pillow and closed her eyes before exhaling, her thighs pressed together as she tried not to let her mind travel into any lewd thoughts.
But the sound of his shallow breathing was enough to make her terribly aware of the abrupt shift in her body. She could feel the dull, needy throb between her legs merging with that burn of sheer want for him low in her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open then, and there he was, sleeping on his side of the bed with his face facing toward her.
Spencer looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed, lashes brushing along his cheeks, and his mouth slightly parted while his chest rose in a steady rhythm, a sign of him in complete slumber. She had seen the drowsiness in his eyes the moment he walked through the door this evening, the fatigue clumped in his shoulders as he kissed her in greeting. It had been days since the last time he had proper sleep, having to travel across the country for a recent case, and today he finally had the chance to rest his bones from all of the work.
But it also meant it had been eleven days, fifteen hours, and forty-six minutes since the last time she had him buried deep inside her...
Not that she was counting.
Fine—maybe she was. Maybe she was keeping up with their time apart because being with him was something she looked forward to, in and out of the bedroom. How could she not? He was her partner; her smart, caring boyfriend who she loved too damn much and would do anything to bide the time relishing in his presence.
Although tonight she did have a specific activity in mind, which now seemed more like wishful thinking considering he was already deep in slumber. He needed the sleep, she reminded herself. He was simply tired and he needed all the rest he could get.
Swallowing hard, Y/n tried to push her desire back down. She turned over, laid back down on her back, and let her eyelids fall back down as she settled her arms to her side. But the position was too uncomfortable. She let out a groan and shifted again, hips moving along the bed a few times before she finally stopped.
The feel of something shifting woke Spencer up, his mind slowly stirring awake. A soft sigh escaped him as he lay silently, his mind quieted in the stillness of the night. Then his breathing evened out a moment later, exhaustion of the past few days took over before his eyelids lowered, body drifting back to sleep. Except for a little bit later, he heard more rustling along the pillow, a soft, feminine sound of frustration barely ringing in his ears. This time he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting himself in the dark.
The first thing he noticed was a mass of hair laid in front of him, then bare arms and a slender body clad in a silky nightgown. There was silence as he tried to pick up her breathing, watching her back move steadily in the poorly lit room. When another exasperated sigh escaped her, Spencer inched closer and reached out, an arm wrapping around her waist as he pulled her closer toward him.
"Hey," he softly murmured, concerned about her constant movements in her sleep. "You alright?"
Y/n stopped herself from letting out a moan. On normal occasions, being pressed up against him in bed would lull her to sleep, the comfort of his arms provided an immense amount of warmth and safety. Definitely not tonight. The way his arm tightened around her, tugging her back into his solid chest awoken that part of her she tried to suppress. The heat of his body enveloped her and she found herself leaning back, accepting the warmth he was offering.
"Hmm," her returning hum answered, sinking deeper into his embrace.
"Bad dream?"
She stopped herself from snorting. She couldn't even get a wink of sleep and here he was, concerned about the possibility of her having nightmares. But it was a better reason than to admit why she couldn't rest her eyes, so she nodded, her voice slightly breathless as she whispered, "Something like that."
The silence in the air after her reply was jarring. If Spencer was half-awake before, he was fully awake now, the rasp in her voice far too familiar for him to ignore. And when he finally regained his consciousness back, he became highly aware of his surroundings. The soft mattress underneath him, the plush pillow below his head, and the soft curves pressed against him.
He could feel her body trembling underneath his palm, her breathing picking up its pace as his fingers glided along her stomach. He could practically hear the sound of her heartbeat as he pulled her even closer, his head shifting along her shoulder, his nose brushing against the back of her neck. The subtle fragrance of flowers and honey filled his nostrils as he breathed in her scent, nuzzling further into her, the stubble of his jaw grazing along her skin.
"Spence," she muttered, tilting her head into the pillow. "What are you doing?"
"You seem to be having trouble sleeping." She felt the bed shift behind her as he moved again, and then a moment later she felt him pressing his hips into her ass. She let out a gasp. "I'm helping you relax."
She felt something pleasantly warm grazing her neck, his lips moving deliberately slow, as if he was in no hurry and only wanted to savor the taste of her skin. His hand then slid further up her stomach, palm flat as it dragged up her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It eventually stopped its roam, halting its search when he cupped her left breast tenderly.
She couldn't stop the strained moan from slipping out of her mouth. "Sleep isn't exactly on my mind right now."
"I figured," he murmured beside her ear, his hot breath drawing goosebumps along her skin. "How long have you been awake?"
His hand gently kneaded her breast as his mouth traveled along her neck. Her eyelids lowered slightly, a wet heat forming between her thighs as her arousal intensified. "I haven't slept."
"And why is that?" A finger brushed across her nipple through her thin nightgown. She suppressed a helpless whimper as his thumb circled around the nub, caressing it so gently she could feel her body shaking with need. "Go on." He tugged on her nipple between his fingers. "Use your words."
"I..." She felt his tongue softly grazing her skin before he wrapped his mouth around her flesh, sucking on the spot. What was she to say? That she was too aroused to relax? She carefully weighed her words, feeling bashful verbalizing her thoughts, so she finally settled with, "It was too hot."
He hummed in response, somehow acknowledging the meaning behind her words. She watched as his hand left her breast, sliding up her bare arm before it settled on the strap of her flimsy sleepwear. He gently tugged down the thin string as his mouth lowered towards her shoulder, languorously trailing kisses down the line of it. "We should do something about that, shouldn't we?"
She couldn't think clearly when his touch sent her into a whirlwind of chaos. To crave something was one thing, to actually acquire that craving was an entirely different thing. She had wanted to feel him so much, but as his hand trailed back to her now-exposed breast, her mind was in a mess of desperate longing and need. Somehow his mouth trailing on her neck wasn't enough. Somehow his callused fingers stroking her nipple wasn't enough. She needed to feel every inch of his body on her. She wanted all of him.
More, more, more.
"Spence," she breathed out, her hoarse voice hanging in the air.
A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Tell me." His grip on her nipple tightened, and she shuddered at the sensation. "Tell me what you want."
"You," she answered in a daze. "I want you."
"What do you want me to do?" He gently bit her flesh. "Do you want me to make you feel good? Do you want me to touch you, relax the tension in your body?" Then her heart sped up in her chest, slamming roughly into her rib cage at his next words.
"Do you want me to fuck you to sleep?"
A strangled whimper left her mouth. Spencer was a lot of things in bed. When they had first been together, he was so timid and unsure of himself, too caught up in his thoughts that left him too afraid to touch her—which she honestly hadn't minded, she loved being the one who saw his transformation in the bedroom. But when he finally started to loosen up and be himself with her, exploring things he wanted to try, to finally take control? It drove her absolutely wild to experience him gain his confidence it made her weak in the knees every damn time.
Like this side of him now always managed to render her speechless. Perhaps it was the way he was so poised and calm outside the bedroom, a very different demeanor when he was alone with her, that made it all seem so overwhelming. In the safety of their bedroom, he was everything he desired, and being crude and demanding was what he decided to be this night.
His hand caressing her nipple slid up her chest, his fingers gently wrapping around the base of her neck. Her breath hitched as he softly gripped it, pulling her even further into his chest. "Tell me, is that what you want?"
She was breathing even heavier now, her shoulders heaving with each audible inhale. "Yes."
He bit her earlobe, evoking another breathless shudder out of her. "Explain it in words, I need you to speak to me."
Y/n enjoyed the sweet, gentle way he made love to her. She really did. Very, very much so. But there was a certain enjoyment whenever he was in control. Whenever he let himself go and have his way with her—crass words over sweet nothings, rough stokes over soft touches. It burned her skin and gripped onto her arousal, waking up the submissive side of her which she enjoyed more than she should probably have.
Spencer's grip tightened at her silence. "Are you not going to answer me?"
"Yes," she quickly responded, feeling the subtle bulge of him pressed along her backside. "Please."
"Please... what?"
She couldn't believe he was making her say it. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath and leaned into his touch, practically shifting the weight of her body on top of him. "Spence."
"I need to hear the words or you won't get anything at all," he spoke, his thumb grazing her chin.
The thought of being left sexually frustrated was enough for her to nod, giving in to his command. "Yes," she whispered, and because she wanted to make him feel as desperate as she was, she squirmed, hips writhing along his groin as she searched for friction. "I want you to fuck me to sleep."
A pleased rumble vibrated in his throat. Letting go of her neck, his hand trailed down her body and landed on the top of her thigh, gently massaging the muscle beneath his palm. His fingers skimmed up toward her skin, pushing up her nightgown, exposing more delicate skin and skimpy underwear barely covering her ass. Then it happened so fast. One moment he was caressing her, the next thing she knew his hand drew back before it came barreling forward with a sharp smack that echoed in the room. She gasped in pleasant surprise, her clit throbbing in excitement as his palm rubbed along the stinging flesh.
"You liked that, didn't you?"
She whimpered in response. Then his hand retreated from her ass only to come flying forward again with another sharp crack. Her hips jolted forward at the impact, her eyes closing at the delicious sting as his hand held onto her her stomach. His fingers then slowly trailed south and her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his lips hot on her ear.
"Open your legs, sweetheart."
Her knees fell apart at the demand, one of her legs laying on top of his. She waited for him to touch her, to dip his hand into her aching folds in the confinement of her underwear. Instead, his fingers slipped into the side of her fabric, tugging the material to the side, exposing wet, damp skin to his desire. The slick evidence of her arousal stuck onto the fabric so thickly it was enough for her to feel the heat creeping along her cheeks.
"Would you look at that?" He whispered, lips touching the back of her ear. "I haven't even touched you here and you're already soaking wet."
Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she watched him. There wasn't a moment of hesitation while his fingers tugged the waistband of her underwear, gingerly sliding them down her legs before pulling them past her feet and casting them somewhere over the side of the bed. Then he grabbed onto her knee, parting her legs further apart but not doing anything to quench her desire. He could feel her trembling, writhing with need as she pressed further into his front.
The cool air hit her exposed skin, and it took a lot of self-control for her not to beg even further, but the way her body squirmed was enough to let him know what she craved. Though his hand stayed where it was, firmly gripping onto her left leg, sliding it on top of his while his lips lazily mapped along her neck.
"Here's what we're going to do," his gruff voice filled her ears. "I'm going to touch you, I'm going to please you in every way you like—" His hand slid painfully slow down her thigh before it came to a complete stop. "—but you can only cum when I give you permission to." His fingers inched closer to her throbbing heat. "Do I make myself clear?"
A shiver spread along her body, understanding what he meant by those words. He wanted to rule her, he wanted to be the one in charge of her own body. And while she should've felt appalled at the thought, her arousal rather grew deeper at every ticking second as he waited for her reply.
And then suddenly his fingers wrapped around her neck again, gently pressing onto her skin as he jutted his hips towards her. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," she begged him, her hand lightly tugging around his arm. "Perfectly clear."
Then his hand trailed down again, slightly brushing her aroused nipples before it settled on the heated span between her legs. When the pads of his fingers lightly grazed her clit, his teeth bit down on her shoulder. A hiss of pleasure instantly flew out of her mouth. Two of his fingers began running back and forth between her damp folds, the sensation was gradually pulling shallower and shallower breaths from her.
"You're so wet," he growled against her skin. "This what you've been needing?"
She faintly nodded, her hips moving gradually with his fingers. His fingers circled in swift motion and it was enough for her to roll her head back onto his shoulder. His fingers then slid back into her slicked entrance before he abruptly slipped two of them into her. Eyes snapping shut, she groaned in pleasure. He began thrusting slowly into her over and over, curling them deep inside. A whimper escaped her mouth at the feel of them as he began to pump into her roughly, her hips pressing eagerly back into his hand.
"I can already feel you clenching around my fingers," he whispered. "You really needed this, didn't you?"
"So much," she found herself answering, a hand grasping onto his arm as he kept thrusting his fingers at a steady pace. "I needed you."
"Then you have me. You'll always have me."
A breathy moan flew out of her at his words, her back arched in response. She felt his lips pulling into a smile along her skin, thrusting his fingers all the way in. She moaned loudly, her head dropping down between his shoulders as he pulled his fingers out before quickly pushing them right back inside.
"Spence," she breathlessly sighed, his fingers still vigorously thrusting into her, only pausing to occasionally curl inside of her which in turn had her toes curling on the bed, her body feeling closer to the edge of her release. "I-I'm gonna—"
"No. You're not."
She let out a loud groan, griping his arm as he thrust deeper, his fingers spreading wider into her as another finger entered her heat. His warm breath was brushing over her skin, the sensation mingled with his finger still thrusting into her deliciously pleasant. "Baby, I-I can't—"
"You can," he whispered, his breathing sounding harsher than before. "You're going to wait until I give you my permission."
A harsh moan ripped in her throat, her body spasming as she tried to force herself to control her body. but it was getting harder to do when her vision felt like it was blurring, her breath coming in sharp pants as his fingers continued to drive into her, the sensation had her legs shaking. She could hear how wet she was, the slick sound of him pumping into her echoed in the room.
"You're really enjoying this," he ground out as his pace picked up. "You're already so close."
She nodded against the pillow, whimpering out an affirmative noise that wasn't quite a word.
"Then I can't let that happen."
Instead of getting what she wanted, he abruptly pulled his fingers out from inside of her before she whined in protest. The loss of his touch on her body was too much to handle as she gripped his arm again, guiding him back between his legs. Spencer couldn't help the amusement dripping in his voice as he watched her move his fingers with her own. "What are you doing?"
"Spence, I was so close—"
"That's not how this works."
Then he retrieved his hand again before shifting behind her, and when she caught him pulling down his sweatpants, she couldn't help but arch her body towards him. She swallowed hard, goosebumps raising along her skin as she watched him pull out his cock, his hand gripping onto the length of it as he settled between her legs.
A moment later she felt the head of his cock rubbing through her damp folds, a shudder running down her spine at the sensation, a soft hum vibrating through her lips. She felt him line himself up with her entrance, her breath feeling like it was catching in her throat as she impatiently waited for him.
And then, finally, after many days of being apart, the tip of him slid inside of her so slowly. A gasp fell out of her mouth. Spencer rumbled out a very gruff, contented noise as he gradually sunk even deeper inside of her, pausing to let herself adjust to him.
"You feel so warm," he groaned out. "So perfectly warm."
She moaned in response, breath coming in hard. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
She could feel her walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust to his girth. Then his hips slowly began rocking into her, pleasure washing over her body in waves at the sensation. His mouth lowered beside her ear, each of his panting breaths falling straight into it. "Nice—" He moved his hips back before pushing them forward leisurely, enjoying the way she clenched around him. "—and slow."
The roll of his hips pulled her into a trance as her body responded; muscles straining, eyes widening, lips parting. Sparks of electricity began to ricochet along every nerve. The coil inside her was building up, her chest was rising and falling faster, more and more, dragging desperate breaths into her lungs with every thrust of his hips.
Then her eyes shifted downwards, watching the way he entered her deliciously body. It was a strange sight, to watch her body react to something so wonderful. Her muscles tensed, goosebumps sprang up along her skin, and it was all there for her viewing pleasure. She watched as he shoved himself into her, over and over again, her walls trembling at how intoxicating he was making her feel.
"Baby, I—" she whimpered, trembling in her wake. "I can't hold much longer."
"You can," he assured her, his fingers digging into her skin.
Weak and desperate, she surrendered in the wake of the urge elicited by his abrasive touch. His hands were all over her, large and expansive, confident in the way he touched, squeezed, and fondled every part of her body. Eager flames bloomed in the pit of her gut. "I—I can't."
He relished the way she clenched around him, her breathing coming out shallow as he took what he wanted. Then he gripped her hips, building up his pace as he thrust deeper into her. "You're so close, I can feel it," he pointed out. "Do you want to cum?"
She tried to focus her mind on something other than the feeling of him inside her. "Yes."
"Hmm," he hummed out, his pace briefly slowing. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he demanded, "Beg me or I'll stop."
A whimper left her. "Spence."
His lips found her neck when he felt her walls squeezing him even tighter, "Do you want to cum?" he repeated against her skin.
"Mhmm."
"Use your words," he groaned as he increased the pace of his movements. "Say it."
Swallowing hard, her head rolled against his shoulder. Her lips were quivering as he kept up his pace, her body inching closer and closer to her release. She was fighting to hold it back, her body slowly beginning to shake along the mattress.
"Beg." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.
She was so close. Her eyes were half-lidded her voice rang in the air, breathless and desperate for his mercy from the overwhelming pleasure. "Please," she finally breathed out, almost letting out a cry, her lips parted in delight. "Baby—I-I... please let me cum."
"What was that?"
"Spencer," she whimpered desperately. "Please. Please. Let me—fuck.. baby, please."
This time she did let out a cry.
He snarled behind her before his teeth snapped at her earlobe, tugging at the delicate skin. Her body was quaking on the bed as she whined, struggling to hold back any longer. And when she felt like she was about to lose control, he finally released her earlobe and spoke, "Go on, then. Cum for me."
A loud moan flew up out of her throat, her body pressing back into his. She felt the hard clench of her walls around his length as pleasure spread through her entire body. As the coil in her stomach grew, she couldn't help but snake a hand down to where they were connected and quickly found her throbbing sex. Catching her desperate fingers, he swatted her hand away, replacing it with his own as his fingers circled around her clit.
His rough fingers taunting their joint bodies tipped her over that tantalizing edge. She felt each pulse of her walls so acutely, felt the heat flow throughout her spine as the high she reached never came to an end. He buried his face into her neck, kissing and biting the smooth skin. A certain movement from his fingers made her whole body shake. She couldn't handle it, couldn't see through the tears falling, couldn't feel anything but him and the hot pleasure.
She finally came with a scream, wrenched from her throat so roughly it seared its way out of her lungs and into the air. She felt herself clench around him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against her. Her ears tingled at the rhythm of his grunts as he exhaled her name, his thrusts growing erratic. Then she felt him completely, she could feel his warmth seeping into her heat as he let out the most primal groan she had ever heard.
Silence engulfed them afterward, their heart slowing down from their erratic breathing. It wasn't until he slipped out of her that she let out a tired moan, her voice echoing in the dark. He gently grabbed her body and turned her around, cradling her cheek before leaning in for a kiss.
Then slowly, but steadily, all he tasted was her. It felt like a missing puzzle falling back to its place as his warm lips connected with hers. He was so enraptured by her touch, by the taste of her, that it took a lot for him to pull away. Breathing heavily, he finally rested his head back onto his pillow, a coy smile stretched on his lips as his thumb stroked along her cheek.
"Hi."
A sincere smile flourished on her face. "Hi."
"Well, that was... something."
She laughed as she leaned closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. "It was fun."
"It really was," he agreed, suddenly feeling shy as he realized what had just occurred. "I always surprise myself when I'm with you."
"Good," she simply said. He wrapped his arms around her as she settled in his embrace. They lay in comfortable silence, her head on his chest, legs draped over him as his fingers drew lazy patterns on her thigh. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence.
"You know," he started, his voice very soft. "You could've just woken me up if you have trouble sleeping."
She slightly leaned back to look up at him. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you."
"Nothing about you will ever be disturbing to me."
She wrinkled her nose. "Even if you got home from a long, exhausting trip, you wouldn't mind if I woke you up for sex?"
"I'd especially want to be woken up for that reason," he replied in disbelief. His fingers trailed under her chin, angling her gaze on him. "Wouldn't you?"
She smiled at the thought. There was a delightful feeling as her mind wandered on the possibility of him interrupting her sleep because he craved her touch. "Alright," she agreed. "Duly noted."
His arms tightened around her. "Do you think you can sleep now?"
She hummed out a positive response, her face burrowing along his skin, just beneath his chin. Her body suddenly felt the heavy post-sexual bliss, and now surrounded by his warmth, she could feel the fatigue creeping into her body.
"I was hoping so," he murmured.
Tugging the sheets up higher over their body, she felt him shifting along the bed for a minute, his arms encircling her waist. His chin was carefully tucked onto the top of her head as he drew her in tight under the covers. And when the steady rhythm of his breathing embraced her, her body finally relaxed, falling into sleep.
#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid#spencerreid#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#Spotify
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Miguel sleeping with s/o headcanons
no pronouns used for reader
have this while I’m working on some drafts 😇
• He is a SNORER. Like makes those dad sounds.
• Also mumbles/talks in his sleeps.
“I don’t know it.” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. “What?” You say, confused when you see his eyes closed. “I don’t know grapes.” He mumbles again before falling back into his snores, leaving you to hold back your laughter as much as you can and wishing you had recorded it. “Grapes?”
• Usually sleeps on his back with your head on his chest or on his front with one arm slung over your waist.
• Very occasionally he’ll nuzzle into your chest or neck when he’s sick or just really tired.
• He has nightmares often, usually about Gabriella and will panic when he wakes up, resulting in accidentally waking you up which he profusely apologises for while you comfort him.
• He can’t sleep if he’s not touching you in some way. Even if it’s just his hand in your hair. If you have an argument, he’ll (what he thinks is very sneakily) move his leg or hand to just slightly lay against your thigh or stomach.
• He rarely gets enough sleep, busy saving the multiverse and all and he’s an insomniac. Normally gets around 2-5 hours a night or sometimes none at all.
• On nights when he can’t sleep, he won’t wake you he’ll just lie next to you, mesmerised by the way you breathe and the slight furrow of your eyebrows when there’s a noise outside.
• HOWEVER he will sleep like a baby if you play with his hair. Like there’s no chance of him staying awake when you run your hands through his hair.
“I know what you’re doing.” He says when he feels your fingers glide gently through his locks. “I’m not doing anything.” You reply, a smile creeping up on your face. “Yes you are. You’re trying to make me sleep and it’s not going to work.” He grumbles, although he already feels his eyes growing heavy. Despite his many protests, he eventually (meaning within 10 minutes) falls asleep on your shoulder while your hands continue to caress his hair.
• When you can’t sleep, he always urges you to wake him. He’ll make you chamomile tea and then cuddle you up to his chest, whisper sweet nothings while running his hand up and down your back until you drift off to sleep.
“Shh. just try sleep, mi estrella.” He whispers, stroking your hair and pressing kisses to your head. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, just relax.”
• He has to leave early in the mornings so he purposely sets an alarm twenty minutes before he actually needs to get up so he can just cuddle and admire you for a while.
• You would not think this man is a traumatised 6’9 superhero by the way he sleeps. His features are always so peaceful and his eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheeks.
• He’s a light sleeper and wakes up at any sounds. Even when you get up to use the bathroom he’ll wake up, but he denies it when you ask in the morning because he doesn’t want you to feel bad.
• His sleep attire just consists of a pair of boxers because he overheats in his sleep and he tends to just turn off his suit and crawls into bed with you the minute he gets home.
thank you for the notes on my last post!!
reqs open ♡︎
#miguel o'hara#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x reader#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#miguel x you#atsv miguel#headcanons#headcanon#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#miguel headcanons#miguel o’hara fluff#fluff#fluff headcanons#my hcs#hcs
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"nooo! she's taken!" ☆ enha maknaes
☆ non-idol! bf! enhypen maknaes x celebrity! fem! reader
☆ summary: you are a very well-loved celebrity, and your relationship is finally revealed to the public.
☆ genre: fluff, another poor attempt at humor, it's very silly
☆ warning(s)? none! lmk if you'd like to see this w the hyungs!
hyung ver.
sunoo ☆
so youre a famous actress
you have your official instagram account
and then your personal one, that you only allow family and personal friends to follow
sunoo, your bf, also has an account on instagram
since most of you friends and family know him, it's not uncommon for him to take your phone and post on your personal account
one of those "hai guys i stole her phone 🤭"
all in good fun
so one night, you and sunoo and cuddling
it was one of those vibey nights
the lights were dim, candles lighting up the room with their orangey hue, light music playing in the background
laying on you and sunoo's shared bed, his face buried into the crook of his neck while you run your fingers through his hair
its honestly so soft and warm and comfy :]
the two of you aren't really talking to each other, just basking in each other's presence
and eventually you begin to doze off
at first sunoo was like "baaaaabee!! why did you stop touching my hair"
but then he realized you were asleep
so after givng your cheek a soft peck, and tucking you into the soft blankets
sunoo physically goes >:]
he takes your phone and decides that he's going to spam your personal account
because tbh he does this a lot and it's funny for everyone involved
sunoo takes very silly pictures of you and him
pictures of you sleeping, ones at very silly angles (ik he takes the most FOUL 0.5s)
on your story he posts them with also very ridiculous captions
theres one of you sleeping with the caption "mimimumuimuiu"
another fisheye lens one of sunoo with the caption "hai i stole [name]'s phone 😈"
but he also posts some sweet ones
like one where you're dozing off in his arms w the caption "she's so cute"
sunoo gets mushy at some point
like his captions go from funny to "im so happy that i get to call myself [name]'s boyfriend, i feel so lucky to be with such a beautiful and talented woman"
that's great!
really!
that's wonderful!
but.
there's just one problem
one
teeeeeeensy
weeeeeeeeeensy
problem
he was using the wrong account.
he was posting all this on your official, business, 7.8 million follower, instagram account.
and not your personal account.
!!!!!
😱😱😱
he doesn't notice until 20 minutes later his phone blows up with articles and text messages
and when he notices
sunoos like OH SHIT
he shakes you awake
and poor boy is so apologetic :(
"baby i'm so sorry i didn't mean to out our relationship like that i should have been more careful-"
but when he explains it to you
you kinda just laugh
and go back to sleep
HELP
sunoo deletes the stories but people already screenshotted them
yeah... so this blows up
i feel like they would become memes
like the ones of you sleeping become reaction memes or even worse part of those tiktok meme slides LMAOAOAO
a lot of people think it's adorable
and you do too
but sunoo is so embarrassed
poor boy
he was writing out entire think pieces on your instagram story oml
OH MY GOD I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING TERRIBLE
there's definitely articles that come out about this
and yk how on articles theres a title page with images
one of the images is of you ofc
all these news outlets use your super professional HD MODEL pictures of you
like ones where youre a goddamn SMOKE SHOW, the "who is she?" ones, the ZOOWEE MAMA ones...
and then they use one of the foul images that sunoo takes of himself that are like 3 pixels
like the 0.5 lens ones 😭
nevertheless, there is a happy ending
everyone thinks its so sweet
including you
and when people bring it up on interviews you're able to just laugh about it
<3
jungwon ☆
we joke abt jay and sunghoon and sunoo having mad side eyes
but i think we forget the FATHER of INSANE SIDE EYES
YANG JUNGWON HIMSELF
you're a singer/artist
and you just released a new EP!
on tiktok, you're making promotional videos to promote your new songs
looking like a cutie, popping off, as you always do!
anyways in many of them
you're in front of a glass door
or a mirror
so as youre being an absolute cutie promoting your song, in the background in the reflection you can see jungwon making faces
NOT BECAUSE HE'S MAKING FACES AT YOU
but bc sometimes there's ppl walking by and being judgy
jungwon is giving them mad stink eyes and it's caught in the reflection of your videos
i don't think a lot of ppl notice it until someone points it out
and when they do
theyre like
WHO TF IS THAT 😭
ppl are making tiktoks simply zooming into his face LMAOAOAO
and then a few days later
the paparazzi released pictures of you walking with jungwon, holding hands and on a date
and when ppl see it
theyre like
hmm...
that guy looks a lot like the guy in the reflection...
and then the dots connect
like sunoo, i think jungwon is embarrassed
everytime someone brings it up jungwon hides his face in your neck
and he wears that cute little bashful grin
but honestly it's cute
so just hug him and kiss his lil cheeks and he'll be okay
it kinda becomes viral on tiktok
so you make a few video stitches about it
you stitched the og video that pointed out jungwon's face in the background
your stitch was just a video of jungwon being embarrassed and freaking out
like bro was on the floor, hands in his hair
jungwon was in the trenches sorry 😭
there's another stitch where jungwon explains himself
he's dressed in a suit and tie and speaking so formally like he was making an apology video or something
"i would like to address a recent clip of me making inappropriate facial expressions-"
"babe you don't need to be so formal, it's a tiktok"
"you shant say that, i must do this for this is my will"
BRO WAS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE ☠️☠️☠️
#freejungwon
riki ☆
youre an actress that's very popular
except some ppl hate you bc they think hating popular people makes them interesting *eye roll*
safe to say.... riki is your NUMBER ONE DEFENDER
like he is the ring leader to all of those [name] stan twt group chats
he's the one leading those discord raids on your hate groups OH MY GOD 😭
he has multiple accounts and he fights every person that dares tarnish your name
twitter is his battlefield and the keyboard is his sword
anyways one day riki is so deep into an internet fight that he GETS DOXXED 😭😭
like it wasn't even graceful
i think he'd make fun of one of your haters
and the hater goes "wanna see something funny? :)"
and BOOM
ADDRESS
IP ADDRESS
FULL NAME
PERSONAL EMAIL
PHONE NUMBER
dont actually dox people guys its not funny
when riki gets doxxed they get his full name right
and the hater, his assailent, and their little posse start searching his name on social media to further dox him
and BOOM #2
THEY FIND HIS INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT
now riki isn't stupid
so his ig acc is private
however.....
the profile picture of his acc is a selfie of you and him kissing
they also did research on him and found out that you and him went to the same high school...
in fact they found miscellaneous pictures posted online of you and him a few years back... holding hands n shit....
OH
SHIT
this goes viral over night
like
its so bad that even news headlines are covering it
"TWITTER USER @[NAME]LUVER1209, HOT ACTRESS [NAME]'S MOST NOTORIOUS INTERNET DEFENDER, IS REVEALED TO BE HER BOYFRIEND 😱😱😱"
i feel like the public's reaction to this would be really light-hearted
like i think mst ppl would be cheering riki on
"he's so real"
"oh my god i think i was mutuals with @[name]luver1209"
"this is what true love looks like"
you have super loyal fans and riki's mutuals so they support you too
except i do think theyd be in shambles, but in good fun
"i just found out [name] has a bf im going to flush myself down a toilet"
"i can't believe she chose @[name]luver1209 when his fancams are so shit... THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!'
"i've been here waiting in line for three years and this random @[name]luver1209 swoops in and takes my woman..."
riki's stan account gains a lot of followers
and so with your permission
he posts a selfie of you and him
probably with a cheeky caption like "KISS MY ASS!!!!"
i feel like people go back and watch old talk show interviews and stuff
and if you zoom in
you'll see riki in the front rows cheering the loudest 😭
bro is everywhere
in the future there's def a moment where like
you're at a live talk show
and the host asks you about the fiasco
and you can literally just point to him in the audience like
"yeah my boyfriend's right there-- hi baby!"
and riki from the audience, behind his phone that he's using to record you like its a fancam, is like "hi baby!" back
i dont think the media even calls him riki, he's stuck as @[name]luver1209 forever
not that he minds
😭😭😭
hyung ver.
#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen fic#sunoo#sunoo fluff#sunoo imagines#sunoo x reader#jungwon#jungwon fluff#jungwon imagines#jungwon x reader#nishimura riki#enhypen riki#niki x reader#riki fluff#riki imagines#enhypen jungwon#enhypen sunoo#yang jungwon#kim sunoo#enhypen x reader#star-sim#vanya-writes
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