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yellowflowerbub · 2 years

Note

hi i hope your having a good day/night! im gonna write this request anon because i’m nervous haha! i’m over the age of 18 and i would like a sakuna x thick!reader smut. i am pretty thick myself and i would love to read like a hard dom sakuna with a thick reader. i think it would come out pretty nice 💕💕! stay hydrated and have a good one!

KINKTOBER

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Day 21: Worship - Sexual Arousal From Worshipping or Being Worshipped

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. after hundreds of long grueling years without the king of curses, sakuna, to guide you, you begin to feel lost until you turn an alleyway in hopes of finding another victim and instead encounter the man you’ve looked up to ever since he was exorcized

wordcount. 2.8k+

pairing(s). sakuna x thick!curse!reader

warning(s). worship, pwp, mentions of flesh, mean dom Sakuna, manipulation, abuse of power, rough sex, foreplay, sadism, little bit of spit, semi exhibitionism, monster cock, size kink, spanking, masochism, cum

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sakuna was a ruthless monster and procrustean leader. He controlled all of evil and whatever was left of good. Curses and sorcerers bowed before his feet in fear and those that rebelled were killed before they could even oppose him.

But he was dead.

Once ruler of both the mortal and spirited worlds before he was stripped of his power. His sudden death allowed sorcerers to regain control of humanity- to remake society and mold it into what they desired. Humans became so safe they began to forget about the ruler that once held tenacious power over their ancestors' lives. By no means did the removal of the King of Curses stop evil beings from instilling terror however without a clear leader, evil had been kept at bay, minimized to a point where those who had no cursed energy at all could roam the night’s dark streets only fearing other people.

This night in particular had a bizarre feel. The cold air felt cooler and thicker- becoming increasingly onerous to take in. Usually the streets were full with people trudging through the close to congested sidewalks and car packed streets while you figured out which one you'd pluck from the crowd, today however, had little to no one out in the public. The only sounds of life were the distant dittys of crickets that rose a scowl onto your face. The street lights flickered and the stop lights interchange from green to red while you absentmindedly tramp through the sidewalk, the heels of your shoes clicking on the concrete beneath them.

Though you knew you could defend yourself if needed, the thought that something else stronger, some burly entity with immeasurable power had already taken its pickings with the cities people made you shiver. The scene of the quiet and eerily peaceful streets would've given you goosebumps if you were human.

Suddenly, the smell of flesh floods your senses. A stench so strong you felt like you could physically reach out and touch it. You look around, searching for anything adjacent to where you stood that could produce an effluvium so profound but your eyes caught nothing of interest. Your nose, however, sniffed into the air a few times before leading your body to the output which happened to be an alleyway that you'd never noticed on your nightly walks.

Immediately the atopherical pressure seemed to cage around your chest- oxygen becoming harder and harder to intake. That unmistakable power, that familiar presence, the bone shuddering cursed energy; you knew without a doubt in your mind the King of Curses was with you. Just the thought of him being near you back when you were classified as a Grade 2 curse made you hot and bothered, but now that you’re so close, so nigh that you can feel his power surging through the air, your knees had a hard time supporting the rest of your body.

You squint, barely being able to make out his figure through the fog but of what you could see he lost a good portion of what made him the King of Curses. No extra limbs or inhumane height and all his additional mouths including the one that formerly draped across his defined stomach were gone. If not for the tattoo’s covering every other part of his face and torso you would have mistaken him for a special grade sorcerer.

You wanted to shout out to him. You wished to utter even a few words to gain his attention. To ramble about how much you’ve been praying to every deity under the sun that he would come back to return the world to its miserable glory with you by his side. Even if he only used you for your thriving power- you only wished to work under his ruling for as long as he desired, but before you could fix your mouth to speak he calls out to, voice rumbling and resounding off the allway’s dirty brick walls.

“Did you miss me?” You did. You really did.

“Yes!” You shout into the fog, “I’ve always missed you! I never stopped!”

He hums, likely studying your eagerness to speak with him. The fog leisurely clears as he begins to step toward you, a daunting saunter that makes your heart squeeze within your chest. With him so close you could see his messy pink hair falling onto his sweat ridden forehead and a wide smirk that spread across his face, stretching from ear to ear.

"Look at you, pretty little thing," He coos, "I've been seeing you- watching you desperately try to please me. You've been so good at keeping this city entertained."

His immense height and stature felt only amplified when you considered his notoriety.

The sleepless nights that you spent idolizing Sakuna to a point of exhaustion; running strange fan clubs and cultist devotee meet-ups consumed more of your time than actually reeking havoc onto the streets of Tokyo. Watching theorists speak extensively about the horror of the curse while you filthily masturbate to the sketches of him that appeared on screen. You treated and worshiped him as one would do a celebrity, so much so that now, as he stood in front of you, you could hardly move a muscle.

He brings his hand to clutch your chin and pry your attention onto him, "Do you think you could do something for me? Just a small favor."

You quickly nod, naively agreeing to his unclear ask of you. Even if you were aware that he was just using you, you’d still gladly give up your body to him if he asked. The fact that he came to you of all curses for his problems was what you focused on rather than the big hands that ripped all of the clothing off your skin.

The quick changes in his vague suggestive words gave you whiplash. While you were experienced enough, this profuse dominance he yielded flustered you, bringing about a sense of insignificance to the flood of emotion you already held. His lofty stature made you feel tiny, almost completely trivial in comparison to him. Reasonably so. You were never the most intimidating curse in the special grade registry but you could still hold your own well enough that it caught the King of Curse’s attention.

He lowly growls under his breath, "It's been too fucking long since I've gotten to shove my cock in an eager whore like you."

Grabbing you by your waist he hosts you up onto the allway’s wall, your bare back now directly touching the freezing brick. You huff at the chill. Using one hand to pin you, his other is busy freeing his cock from its garments, rubbing at what he could touch on it. His impatience seeps through him allowing you to pick up on how restless he truly is, pent up beyond belief. You wait with bated breath for his crotch to make any form of contact with yours, your eyes already half lidded as you ogle his weeping tip that oozed with pre down his length.

His cock was so large, monstrous even. Well over average in both his girth and length to a point of absurdity. The base of it seemingly wider than the rest, bulging veins following along its sides then halting at his tip that shined with pre. As he stroked over it you noticed the upward curve of his erection and how hard it had already become.

“I'm gonna use you for my pleasure. You owe that to me for creating a world where you can run rampant when you want,” He seethes through his teeth, bright red eyes still concentrated on his satasfaction, "Fuck. Ready yourself, get it nice and wet for me."

You bring two shaky fingers into the depths of your mouth and have your tongue swirl around them, soaking your digits with your saliva before you run them down your body and around the rim of your hole. They hover there for a minute, completely saturating it. He groans, intently watching you as you tease yourself directly before him.

"Watch me," You say, still touching yourself, "I'll do good for you. Promise."

"I'd only expect the best from you. Nothing. Less."

He smiles- it's sinister but it still brings you some sense of reassurance that you were doing something right. He grips his cock in his hand while one of his strong arms keeps you pinned where you were, not like you’d try to leave at this point anyway- your mind too far gone in the depths of lust admiration. He slowly strokes it at the base, purposefully avoiding his flushed tip as his mouth spewed humiliatingly truancy words at you.

He leans further into your body, chest to chest with his head rested on your shoulder. He nips at the shell of your ear, breathily sucking and biting at what skin he could reach. You can feel heat radiating off of his dick as it rubs against the back of your working hand. His pre cum stains the innards of your quivering thighs and the saliva once coating your finger dripped to the ground creating a pool of your mixed arousal on the concrete beneath you.

You moan as the tip of his cock kisses your hole repeatedly, teasing and torturing your core, “Sakuna… put it in. I’m ready for you, use me please~,”

He chuckles within the warmth of your neck then bites it, eliciting a whine from your mouth. An abrupt stretch draws your attention to his groin as he steadily eases into you, savoring every bit of delectation that came with it. The lewd noises you let spill from your mouth clouded his mind, nearly causing his facade to slip- instead, he allows for his pleasure to leak from him as low whispered profanities.

“You’re so fucking tight.” The unrelenting pace in which he entered you felt like it was splitting you in half, like he single handedly spitroasted you while you babbled on about how good he was.

The raucous sounds of his hips meeting the fat of your ass reverberates in your ears and the empty alleyway- the feeling of the ripple of your skin clashing against his open hands makes you tighten and his hands clench harder around your bottom. An abundance of coarse groans and noisy moans mixed with the lewd squelching of your sexes as he pounded into you.

Sakunas baritone voice teased in your ear, "You're enjoying this! You like how big my cock is inside you, huh? Your cute little cunt can barely fit it all. Fuck,"

"Disappointing. I thought you could do better." Your mind was in such a haze, whatever vulnerability you possessed at the forefront of your mind that you couldn't fully comprehend that he was baiting you- simply riling you up in order to manipulate you further. Practically falling right into the palm of his hand for him to orchestrate your thoughts.

"Sorry!" You manage to shout, "Please let me do it! Let me be of service to you!"

He removes his cock from you, a bit of slick connecting the two of you before it breaks. You stumble on your feet, a bit worn out, before you reposition your ass to face his awaiting dick and your chest to barely brush against the cold brick wall. Your legs shake beneath you as your hands push you from the wall and further back onto Sakuna's girth, ripping a moan from your throat. He remains silent as he watches you back into him while you attempt to retain a steady-ish rhythm. His large hands run down your back and drift over your arched spine to massage at the flesh on your sides, bulky fingers digging into the skin to slowly guide you before traveling back up your back to repeat the actions. He groans a bit, little whines lacing it when you wiggle your hips enough to make his cock twitch.

You yelp as a sudden sting comes down on your rear. You pause in movement, a bit confused but once another harsh slap hits you again you realize Sakuna was spanking you.

“Who told you to stop?” The commanding tone of his voice exudes with dominance- without him even directly demanding something of you, you feel obligated to oblige to his words. To completely give in to him and submit everything he asked of you.

You apologize and quickly return to moving yourself along his dick. His palm hits you again, this time it feels plenty harder as your ass begins to sore. You keep your eyes focused on the wall and your mind on the tingling sensations on your skin. It oddly felt good. “You’re such a slut, you’re actually fucking enjoying this. You like this sting on your ass?”

You earnestly nod. A strange pang goes off inside your abdomen, a coil like sensation that only grew when you speed your hips. The coil tightens further with every strike Sakuna bestows upon you and your ass lifts to chase it.

“Shit- so tight, ya gonna cum? M’ makin’ you feel that good, huh?” Each of his teasing sentences were rhetorical. You weren’t going to answer anymore, too far gone- lost in complete and utter bliss and Sakuna didn’t want you to, satisfied with just hearing you babble like an idiot on his cock.

He grabs at the fat of your ass, jiggling it in his palm then smacking it once more and growling at its recoil. He couldn’t help but rub at where he’d been hitting you. You’ve behaved so well for him- following all his instructions and requests down to the very last detail. Submissively moaning to produce just enough arousal to make his dick jerk.

He could notice you were beginning to get exhausted. There was an extra shake at your knees that wasn’t caused by his size and your heaving chest seemed to be heaving heavier than when you started. You fix your mouth to apologize but before you get the chance to speak, two of his fingers on each hand snake around your body to tap at the sides of your mouth. You happily let them in and he immediately uses that as leverage to pull you back into his cock, meeting his rapidly moving hips half way. He abuses your head like he would a leash, strictly using it to get off. He couldn’t have cared any less in that moment if you came from his pounding as his mind only focused on painting your walls in white. The suffocating squeeze of your heat coerced him into putty in the same way his cock did to you.

He practically growls, “I’m gonna cum, take all my fucking cum! M’ gonna stuff you so fucking full you’ll barely be able to breath, would you like that? Being filled up by your idol?”

You nod. “You don’t have much a fucking choice do you? Your slutty hole is pullin’ me in! I couldn’t pull it out if I tried,” Not that you even wanted him to.

The knot that had been inconsistently tightening in your stomach finally bursts at the same moment Sakuna spills his load within you. He worked you through the orgasm, never fully stopping his thrusts to pump every last drop he had to offer. Your moan’s volume increased to a pornagraphic level while he simply laughed at your indecency as if he hadn’t had his genitals plunged into yours in some random alleyway.

Your legs give out and he catches you, letting you rest in his arms for a quick moment and then easing you down to the ground where you balled yourself up. You could feel the remnants of his orgasm begin to seep out of you while your hole continuously spasmed, forcing more of it out. He crouches in front of you, now face to face with him and his finger plunges into you, pushing his cum back where he left it.

“Wouldn’t wanna waste any.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: surprisingly enough, this was meant to be a quick drabble but i realized this would work better for the request I received earlier this month

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!!

#jjk sakuna #sakuna x reader #sakuna x you #sakuna smut #sakuna ryomen #sakuna x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen kinktober #jujtsu kaisen kinktober #jjk kinktober #kinktober #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Bully ~ Part II

Oikawa Tooru x female reader (+ Iwaizumi Hajime)

TW dub/non-con, bullying, slight degradation, voyeurism, filming, implied abuse, one mention of slapping, nsfw

Part I

‘Honey, it’s your choice. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll respect.’

The final whistle sounds, the team gathering up in a huddle and with a sigh you dutifully close your books and begin to pack them away into your bag. They still have to pull down all the nets and tidy up, but that never takes too long and the sooner you’re all out of here the better.

The sooner you can get away from them, the better.

It’s become routine at this point for you to slowly make your way down to the edge of the court while they duck into the locker room; the other third years acknowledging you with friendly enough smiles, the underclassmen no longer staring at you in vague confusion.

But at this point you’re truly beyond caring what any of them think of your relationship with their Captain.

Except instead of filing out like the rest of his teammates, Oikawa’s still on the far side of the court, trapped in a conversation with Coach Irihata and Mizoguchi. For a split second, his attention shifts towards you, lingering awkwardly by the big double doors, and you think you catch a flicker of irritation in his eyes – which is unusual, considering that he’s made this game his life and he has nothing but the greatest respect for both of the men before him.

But it doesn’t really matter, you suppose. You’ll wait for him, whether it’s five minutes or fifty and he’ll either tell you what’s pissing him off, or he won’t and he’ll end up using you to work out his frustrations anyway.

With your parents away for the rest of the week and your house otherwise empty, you can only pray to any god that’ll listen that he won’t try and spend the night. Not that there’s much you can do to stop him, but a girl can dream, right?

The others are heading off, Makki laughing off some biting comment from Kyoutani, but you pay them no mind. Despite being the people you now spend the majority of your time with, they’re not your friends.

You resign yourself to trudging back up into the stands to wait for Oikawa to finish up when a hand gently wraps around your arm, spinning you around. You start, every muscle in your body tensing on instinct, but as you come face to face with familiar olive eyes you relax – it’s only Iwa.

He regards you silently for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he glances over your shoulder to where Oikawa’s still talking with the coaches.

“C’mon, they’ll be a while, I think. Let me walk you home.”

His place is almost a fifteen minute walk from yours, but you don’t bother trying to bring that up. Instead, you just shrug, shifting the strap of the bag slung over your shoulder, “It’s fine. I don’t need an escort, you know, it’s not that late.”

Maybe it’d be nice for once, walking home without Oikawa’s looming presence over your shoulder. You’re almost positive that he’ll still come by afterwards, especially because he knows as well as you do that there’s nobody to interrupt tonight, but you’ll take the tiny wins when you can.

Besides, you only have to stick it out a little while longer.

Still holding onto your arm, Iwa’s eyebrows draw together into a slight frown and he bites back a sigh, “Shittykawa’ll throw a hissy-fit if I let you walk home alone tonight. C’mon.”

He’s not asking, you realise belatedly as he firmly but gently starts to lead you out of the gym, not sparing his best friend another glance. And you could probably dig your heels in and kick up a fuss and he’d probably let you go – at least, you think he would. He would, right? He’d listen if you asked him to stop – but what’s the point?

Nobody here actually cares what you want anymore.

Iwa’s different, you suppose. You don’t really know why. He’s just as complicit as the others, maybe even more so – he at least knows what’s going on, even if he refuses to acknowledge it or do anything about it… but that’s not entirely true, is it?

He’s the one to step in when Oikawa starts to take things too far in public. He’s the one to scare off your would be bullies, snarling and glaring at them from his place at your side. Iwa’s the reason you haven’t lost it completely, the one keeping your head above water. He’s a friend you suppose, or at least the closest thing Oikawa’ll let you have anymore.

He’s certainly the only one Tooru trusts with you whenever he’s not around, hence you haven’t heard any indignant shouts from the gym following in your wake despite the grip he has on you.

And Iwa is nice, in his own way. He cares about you, you think – or he cares enough to pretend for Oikawa’s sake. Either way, at least you know he won’t try to pull you down an alleyway and force you to suck his cock, so compared to your other options, he’s definitely the lesser of two evils.

It’s quiet as the two of you walk, and you find yourself thankful for it. Oikawa’s always talking, he never shuts up, his incessant chatter shattering every moment of quiet, peaceful solitude you try to steal for yourself.

And tonight, tonight your head’s already too full to pretend to play along with some semblance of chipper friendliness.

Maybe that’s why you like Iwaizumi; you don’t have to pretend with him. He knows exactly what Oikawa is, and he’s too intelligent to believe that you’re content spending every waking moment by the setter’s side, much less that you genuinely love him.

It’s a nice night, at least – there’s barely any clouds in the sky. You can see the stars glittering in the inky, midnight blue, and it’s peaceful, you think, with Iwa strolling quietly along beside you.

Even when the breeze starts to pick up, the late summer night air nipping at your exposed skin. Your jacket’s folded up and shoved somewhere towards the bottom of your bag, but you honestly can’t be bothered to stop and ferret for it.

“You’re cold,” Iwa states after a beat. Again, not a question.

Nevertheless, you shake your head. “I’m fine,” you reply, perhaps a little tersely, but he’s already shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders. Oikawa would do the same thing, more out of a perverse sense of enjoyment from seeing you wearing his clothes than a genuine sense of concern over your comfort.

Still, you don’t fight Iwa on it, pulling his jacket tighter over your body. It’s warm, his lingering body heat making your own cheeks burn a little, and it smells like him, too. Musky, yes, but there’s something almost comforting about the fresh, woodsy scent.

Silence resumes between the two of you, but you feel the weight of his stare as the two of you wander along the path. Iwaizumi’s always been perceptive, more so than most give him credit for, and it’s only another few minutes before he speaks again.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

You hum noncommittally, staring resolutely at the concrete sidewalk rather than meet his pointed gaze.

He huffs. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you or not?” he tries again, the sheer bluntness almost enough to make you flinch.

“And what makes you think there’s anything bothering me?” you reply dully, kicking at the small little pebble on the pathway in front of you.

Iwa stiffens just a fraction, but you feel it – the shift in the air between the two of you. It’s the truth you won’t speak, the one he won’t acknowledge. Of course there’s something bothering you; this whole fucked up situation between the three of you. It’s not normal, it’s not healthy, surely he sees that, how the hell can he–

“Cut the bullshit,” he snaps. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been acting lately? Something’s up, and if you think I’m the only one who’s paying attention…” he trails off, and suddenly his hand’s catching at yours, pulling you to a stop.

And when finally you drag your eyes up to meet his, your heartbeat quickens at the scowl written across his face, plain as day.

“I’m not talking about… that. Did he–” he hesitates, biting down on his lip and you honestly don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry. “Something’s up.”

You could probably tell him to mind his own business, and part of you almost wants to. He might even listen, though he wouldn’t be happy about it, but the thing is, you’re just so tired. Tired of playing girlfriend for Oikawa, tired of being dragged along against your will, manhandled and fucked at every opportunity, tired of pretending that this is in any way okay, and you just want to finally give in and admit it out loud.

You want this to be over, and it’s so close you can almost fucking taste it.

So you breathe deep, forcing yourself to relax. “My mom got a job in Tokyo. My parents… they’re leaving at the end of next week. Moving. It’s why they haven't been around much lately.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow into a frown as he takes a second to absorb the information. “And… you? We only have a few months left until we graduate.”

You allow him a wry smile. “I know. They gave me a choice, I’m eighteen, I can stay here in the house by myself, finish up the year and graduate at Aoba Johsai before moving down with them…”

“Or?” he prods.

“Or,” you continue, “or I can go now. There’s some really good schools down there, I could have my pick. It’ll be a struggle, I know, transferring so late in the term, but–”

Iwaizumi scoffs, cutting you off, “But you’re not actually gonna go, right? You can’t just pack up and leave so close to graduation. You’re staying here in Miyagi.”

He almost sounds angry– the muscle in his jaw’s twitching and as you stare at him you realise that he doesn’t sound angry; he is angry. His whole body’s tensed like he’s preparing for a fight, and it takes you by surprise.

Sure, he’s pretty much the only person outside of Oikawa that you’d consider yourself to have any kind of relationship with anymore, but you’d never really thought he’d actually–

“Iwa,” you say gently, “I was gonna go to Tokyo after graduation anyway. Sure, it’s not exactly an ideal situation, but…”

But it’s your chance to get away from all of this, from Oikawa, and you’re gonna take it and run. Whether or not Tokyo University accepts you, whether it means you have to work three times as hard to adjust to a new school’s curriculum just so you won’t completely flunk your final exams.

It can’t be any worse than this.

He has to understand that.

And really, what did he think was going to happen after graduation? You know Oikawa’s plans, and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin your life anymore than he already has, dragging you halfway across the world. You belong here, in Japan. Oikawa can go chase his pipe dreams on his own.

He swallows tightly, and while the pinched scowl on his face doesn’t falter, his grip on your wrist eases just a fraction. “You were really just gonna leave without telling anybody?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Who would I tell?”

—

Sure enough, it’s a little after midnight when your bedroom door sweeps open and Oikawa strides in like he owns the place. You watch through half lidded eyes as he starts to shed his clothes, stripping off and tossing them haphazardly onto the floor until he’s just in his boxers.

He doesn’t say much as he lifts the covers and climbs into bed beside you, merely presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to your cheek, murmuring a quiet, ‘Just sleep, cutie,’ when you try to shift away from him.

He sounds tired, exhausted really, but you don’t care enough to comment, relieved more than anything that tonight he doesn’t seem to have the energy for more. There’d been some part of you that was worried that Iwa might have told him about the walk home – the secrets you’d unthinkingly entrusted to him – but he can’t have. There’s no possible way Oikawa would be so calm right now if he had.

And Iwa wouldn’t do something like that in the first place.

It might not have been the most traditional of friendships, and you know he’s still a little pissed off with your decision and the fact you had no intentions of telling him, but Iwa wouldn’t break your trust like that.

And so with Oikawa’s arms wrapped around your middle, the warmth of his chest pressed up against your back, you allow sleep to claim you once more.

—

You hardly see him the following morning.

There’s no sign of him when you wake up, though his side of the bed is still warm – you know he likes to run in the mornings; he probably ran home to shower before school. And if you’re grateful to Aoba Johsai for anything, it’s for putting the two of you in separate classes. You’re spared his presence and those of his mooney eyed fangirls, and you can actually focus on learning. Or try to, at least.

Iwa regards you with an unreadable expression when you take your usual seat at the desk next to his, but at least he doesn’t seem as pissed off as he was when he left you last night. You only have a week and a half left until you go, but considering he’s the closest thing you have to a friend anymore, you’re not sure how you would survive if he suddenly decided to give you the cold shoulder.

Still, he is quieter than usual as you both settle into class, and you can’t help your gaze from flickering over to him throughout the lesson, an uncomfortable pit settling into your stomach. Iwa doesn’t so much as look your way, busying himself in copying down the notes the teacher’s scrawling on the board.

You honestly didn’t expect him to be hurt, and as he brushes past you on his way out after the bell rings you begin to doubt whether you should have told him at all. It stings, more than you expect.

Yet the moment you try to follow him, calling out his name, a familiar figure steps in front of you, halting you in your tracks.

“Hey, cutie,” Oikawa purrs, grinning down at you as he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind your ear. “I’ve missed you today. Come on, let’s go somewhere a little quieter.”

His fingers are laced with yours, tugging you along before you can even try to voice a protest. You both know you wouldn’t anyway, not anymore.

Just like you don’t speak up when instead of dragging you outside to the courtyard, or even to the gym, he chooses an empty classroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t have a chance to voice it as he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and smashes his lips to yours.

Oikawa usually likes to take his time, to drag out your humiliation and reluctant pleasure as he toys with you, but today he wastes no time in shoving you back up against one of the desk, his fingers already yanking down your necktie and prying your lilac shirt open – buttons scattering as it rips.

“Tooru–” you gasp, panic flaring, but his lips curl into a smirk as he forces you back into another kiss.

“Quiet now, cutie, let me take care of my pretty girl, hm?” he growls between panting breaths. “You don’t want somebody stumbling in and interrupting us, do you?”

And your chest tightens, squeezing around your lungs like a vice, your gaze flickering back to the door – shut but not locked.

“Tooru,” you whisper again in a panic, clutching at the lapels of his blazer as he draws back enough to level a gaze at your chest, bare save for the virginal white lace bra you’d unthinkingly chosen that morning.

His grin widens, but there’s something cold and utterly unflinching in his eyes as they flicker up to meet yours. “Lean back,” he tells you.

You shake your head, “I d-don’t–”

His hands are on your shoulders, abruptly shoving you backwards. “I said,” he coos as you sprawl back onto the wooden desktop with a startled squeak, “lean back for me.”

It’s been months since you’ve fought him, but as he flips up your skirt, fingers grazing possessively along the cotton of your panties and he sighs contentedly, sheer panic floods your system, overwhelming your better judgement. Before you can stop yourself your knees come up as you desperately scramble to right yourself, to put an end to this–

The slap to your cheek isn’t all that forceful, at least not compared to what you know him to be capable of, but it still takes you by surprise, the sharp, burning sting only registering as the shock of the blow fades.

Oikawa’s no longer grinning, his face twisted into a terrifying glare as wide, teary eyes stare back up at him. “Baby, you’re really testing me right now. You want to act like a disobedient little bitch, kick up a fuss, bring everybody running so they can see what a needy little whore you are, spread out on the table for me?” He snatches at your panties, harshly wrenching them down your now prone legs with one hand, the other reaching for his belt buckle, “You think you have a choice here? You think I give a fuck what you want?”

Your ears are ringing, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out almost everything else.

It’s not the first time he’s hit you, or even the hardest, but with that one slap all the fight you have left just dissipates. You don’t even flinch when he spits directly onto your pussy, his thumb harshly spreading his saliva over your cunt – you just bite down on your lip to stifle the sob that threatens to burst.

And victory shines bright in his eyes at the sight of it.

“Good girl, you know who this pretty pussy belongs to, don’t you?” he croons with saccharine sweetness, even leaning over to press a tender, affectionate kiss to your swollen lips.

And you’d squeeze your eyes shut and try to imagine that you’re somewhere else, anywhere else if you didn’t know how much he hates it when you do. So instead, you lie there pliant and trembling, humiliation burning hot as he spreads your legs, pressing your thighs back towards your chest as he slots himself in between them.

“You look so good like this, you know?” he muses with a soft little chuckle as he leisurely strokes his cock, letting the flushed tip brush teasingly along your folds, nudging at your clit. “Prettiest little thing, and all mine, aren’t you, cutie.”

Tears well and spill soundlessly down your cheek, but your only answering is the hiccuping breath you draw in, your fingers finding purchase on the edges of the desk as he guides it back to your entrance.

It doesn’t matter that you’re not nearly ready for him, that his spit and the pre-cum that’s beading at his slit isn’t going to help ease his passage in the slightest. He’ll fuck you how he wants to – and you’re too broken to try and stop him.

Yet instead of savagely plunging in like you expect him to, Oikawa stills, regarding you with a tilted head and a cruel smirk.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, the sound almost reverent as he stares down at you. He shakes his head, another soft laugh bubbling out, “I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of seeing you like this, but if you’re going to be running off on me so soon, maybe I should take a little memento, what do you think cutie?”

Your stomach drops, dread creeping down your spine as Oikawa reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, opening up the camera and flicking it across to video.

“I mean if this is going to be our last time together, don’t you think we should make it special?” You jerk, your breath coming out in short, harsh pants but you can’t move, can’t seem to lift a single finger as he leans in closer, bringing his lips to your ear, “That way we both have something to remember this by.”

And as his breath ghosts the tiny hairs on the shell of your ear he laughs again, pressing another quick kiss to your flushed, tear stained cheek. “Aw, don’t cry, cutie. You brought this on yourself.”

You don’t have a moment to prepare yourself, his hand slamming over your lips to muffle your shrieks as he thrusts his hips forward, sheathing himself in your tight little cunt with a choked moan.

“F-fuck, baby,” he grits out, biting down on his own lip as he relishes the vice like grip your pussy has on his throbbing cock, “Smile for the camera.”

Your back arcs up off the table, fingernails digging into the wood as he draws his hips back slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock as it drags along your walls until it’s only the tip that remains inside of you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts – a sharp and throbbing pain that only grows with each passing second.

There’s something sadistic in his grin as he angles the phone down to where your bodies meet, your lewdly spread thighs, your glistening pussy in perfect view as another glob of saliva joins the first, pooling over your sex, sliding down his cock.

“You have no idea how perfect your pussy feels, baby,” he pants, slowly filling you up once more – your own wails stifled by his hand. “You’re mine, all fucking mine, aren’t you?”

There’s no hiding from the camera as he fucks you, slowly at first, but picking up his pace as the slick starts to build, your warm, velvety walls sucking him in deeper, squelching obscenely with every thrust. And between the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass – skin hitting skin as he fucks you roughly without care – and Tooru’s own satisfied moans, your muffled whimpers and cries go unheard.

And just when you think your humiliation is complete, he takes his hand from your mouth, his thumb returning to your clit, teasing at the sensitive nub with slow, measured circles that have you keening, shaking beneath him as he stuffs you full. Slowly but surely that searing ache gives way to pleasure, a slight shift of his hips and his cock’s hitting that sweet spot he’s all too familiar with – and another strangled moan slips out.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

You shake your head, fingernails digging into the wood, biting down harshly to keep yourself quiet as you feel that familiar heat pooling in your core, wanton pleasure flickering through you with every swipe of his fingers, every harsh thrust.

“No? You sure about that?” he laughs at the desperate whine that slips from your lips, “I wanna hear it, baby. Cum for me.”

But you can’t, you can’t make a sound, the door’s not locked, the door’s not locked and anybody could walk in any second, but you can feel it coming, your legs shaking and toes curling as your control slips–

“Cum,” Oikawa demands, his own voice a husky, shivering growl, and this time you’re helpless but to obey.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, suddenly sweeping your legs out from under you. You arc up off the table once more, white hot pleasure exploding as you shiver and quake, your pussy clamping down on his cock and gushing as he fucks you relentlessly through it, chasing his end while drawing out your own.

And you’re so lost in the bliss, the pleasurable rippling aftershocks short circuiting your system that you don’t even realise that he’s pulled himself out of your cunt, stroking his slicked up cock with harsh pants–

Not until you feel the hot spurts of his cum hitting your stomach, a choked moan resembling your name shattering the fuzzy afterglow, dragging you harshly back down to reality.

There’s a twisted, self satisfied smirk on his face as he watches the cold realisation sink in, your eyes filling with fresh tears as your gaze flickers between him and the phone in his hand, still filming.

“You’re not leaving me,” he says, still a little breathless. “You’re mine. Isn’t that right, Iwa?”

No.

Please god, no.

Blood drains from your face, the pit in your stomach plummeting as his smirk widens and he turns his head to glance over his shoulder. You don’t want to look, can’t bear to, but it’s like trying to rip your eyes away from a car crash; your body moves with a will of its own. Heart pounding, nausea churning in your gut, you follow his gaze to find Iwaizumi by the door; jaw tight, arms folded across his chest, staring impassively back at you.

And that last little piece of you breaks.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa toruu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #tw non con #tw dub con #tw bullying #tw degradation #tw voyeurism #tw non con filming #tw abuse #ok it's 3:30 i need sleep

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skiller0dani · 3 years

Text

Broken Paradise | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut requests info wc | 9.1k summary | you run into an ex boyfriend during an interrogation. except it's you being interrogated, and it's your ex boyfriend doing the interrogating.

song

another draft just waiting to be published. really obsessing over Spencer Reid.

also there's mentions of abortion, nothing graphic it's literally just a short direct reference and nothing else.

You always hear people say your past will come back to haunt you, you just didn't know they meant literally. You leaned back against the metal chair in the interrogation room, you've been in here for what felt like hours. You couldn't complain too much seeing as it's your fault that you're in here at all. You wished they'd come in and tell you something, give you an update, say hi, say anything. You seriously underestimated how maddening silence can be. You knew little about the murders the police were investigating, something about druggie women being found mutilated. The pictures they showed you were downright horrifying, you'd need at least one solid bottle of tequila to forget the bodies of those poor women.

The Las Vegas Police Department were a bunch of judgmental pigs, the only reason they'd brought you here at all was because you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Both of your parents were users, and if you were lucky, also dead. They probably assumed you used as well, and seeing as you seemed to fit the killers physical preference the police brought you in for questioning and also for your own "safety". But really you knew they didn't give a damn about your safety, they just wanted to know where you got your shit from. No matter how many times you insisted you didn't use, they kept pushing. When one male officer started throwing your parents in your face, you stood up and promptly broke his nose. That's how you landed yourself cuffed to the table, tightly.

"Oh thank you so much for gracing me with your presence once more." You smiled sarcastically as another officer walked in, wait he's definitely not an officer. The man who entered the room had cleanly cut dark hair, and wore an expensive looking black suit. Not the run of the mill beat cop that you were expecting. You bit back any other fiery remarks, if you wanted to get the hell out of here you needed to cooperate. Diana would be expecting you, not that you were itching to see her but after letter number 75 of her begging you to swing by- well lets just say that Spencer's mother was never the problem. You doubt Spencer even knew Diana was contacting you, which was good. You wanted nothing at all to do with him.

"I'm Agent Hotchner here with the FBI I need to ask you a few questions." This man was all business, you seriously had to fight the urge to fuck with him a little bit.

"I'd shake your hand but..." Your eyes flickered towards the table, where the police officer who's nose you broke had very tightly handcuffed you. In fact he cuffed you so tightly that your wrists were already raw and bleeding a bit.

"They wouldn't have handcuffed you if you didn't punch an officer. Did he hit a nerve?" The Agent's face was level, and gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You tongued the inside of your cheek, your foot tapping quickly on the concrete floor. These assholes were really starting to piss you off.

"He was being a dick, how many times do I have to tell you guys that I don't use? Are your heads filled with sawdust?" You snapped roughly, yanking away from him to lean back in your chair despite the biting pain in your wrists.

"That's not why I'm here Miss Y/L/N." Agent Hotchner said, his voice even and his eyes on you. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he could read all of your secrets because of the way your eye twitches when you're nervous. You hate these damn FBI profilers- wait.

"How's Spencer?" It's a shot in the dark, a very long shot in a very dark tunnel. Before the scumbag left you without warning, Spencer mentioned that someone was trying to recruit him for the BAU department of the FBI. The profilers. Spencer left and never came back, two guesses as to where he went. Your eyes locked onto the Agent's in front of you, and from the slight upturn at the corner of his brow you knew you got him. Spencer is here.

"You know Dr. Reid?"

"So he's a Doctor now, doesn't surprise me. Let me guess, he has PHD's and Doctorates in Math, Chemistry and something to do with Geography right?" You say as casually as you can and you can only hope this man is wondering how you happen to know so much about one of his Agents.

"Unless I'm speaking to Spencer Reid, I want my lawyer." You snap, leaning back. You know Spencer won't talk to you, and unless they have physical proof you're guilty of something they'll have to let you go.

Check mate.

Spencer couldn't ignore the questioning glances from his fellow teammates even if he'd wanted to. He watched you lean back in your chair from the other side of the one way glass, what are the chances that you are wrapped up in this case? You of all young petite blonde women in the metro area. The world was fucking with him, it had to be.

"She a friend of yours?" Derek's voice was the first to cut through the silence.

"No." One word answers were the safest route, the shortest diction would give little time for them to draw information out of the way Spencer was speaking. There was a tremble in his tone, he knew there was. Spencer prided himself for having little to no baggage behind him, but of all unopened suitcases- his previous relationship with you was the largest one.

"Really? Cause she seems to know a lot about you." Derek said, his eyes fixed on Spencer. The tension in the room was palpable, and suddenly it felt hard for Spencer to breathe let alone compose himself. After shoving free from the small viewing room, Spencer found it a lot easier to exist without the scrutinizing gazes of his coworkers.

"You hear her?" It was Hotch, with a patiently guarded expression on his face. Spencer and drugs wasn't an uncommon problem, although in the past his poison of choice was dilaudid. Now there's a string of drug related murders and a possible junky who seems to know a lot about him.

"Yeah, from before the Bureau." Spencer clarified quickly, and Hotch honestly looked the tiniest bit relieved.

"Think you could talk to her, she's made it obvious she won't talk to any of us." Hotch said, and from the tension building in Spencer's shoulders he can tell there's some bad blood between the two of you. Spencer took a deep breath before taking all of those unresolved emotions and forcefully shoving them down. Deep, deep down. It's time to do a job, there's a missing woman who needs to be saved.

When that door opened again, you thought you'd won. You thought they were coming to begrudgingly release you. Instead you were met by the big doey eyes of Spencer Reid, your first and last love. All the air was stolen from your lungs in an instant, the memories flood back and you can't stop them. The anger rises then, this is the first time you've seen him since he left you. The one person you trusted not to leave you did, he left like everyone leaves you. Like your parents left you. He's very clearly all business, his face hardly giving anything away as he swiftly reached down to unlock the handcuffs around your wrists. If you wanted to walk away from this without your heart getting broken you needed the upper hand.

"Heya baby." You smiled, you hoped that maybe it would disarm him. At least a little, but when you looked at him all you saw was a stoic and focused expression. Nothing? Really?

"I need to ask you a few questions Miss Y/L/N." Spencer's voice was controlled, even in tone. His voice... God his voice could bring you right to tears. You could still hear him saying how much he loved you with that stupidly angelic voice of his. Spencer was very quickly taking control of the situation and you did not like that at all.

"You know you can ask me anything, there's no secrets between us right Spence?" You leaned forward on your elbows, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in your wrists. One of Spencer's biggest giveaways is eye contact, when he's upset or feels guilty he'll avoid looking into your eyes. You turn your gaze up to meet his, but once again you're completely disarmed to see him unabashedly looking into your eyes like it isn't a problem at all. Either Spencer has amnesia and forgot who you were, or what happened between you two doesn't hurt him like it hurts you. You refuse to believe it's the latter, he just forgot. Definitely forgot. Somehow he must have forgot.

"Nina Fredricks, have you ever seen her?" He slid a photo in front of you, you recognize her as the woman who was most recently kidnapped. Most recently being 12 hours ago so chances of her still being alive are unfortunately slim. You nibble on your lower lip, come to think of it you actually might have seen her.

"Yeah, saw her at Winchell's, little coffee shop on the corner of 5th? You remember right Spence? You used take me there all the time, I loved giving you head under the table." You smirk, but it quickly falters. Whatever training he went through must have stripped him of all emotion and turned him into a machine. Built only to solve cases and do nothing else. That wasn't the case however, you just didn't know how good Spencer is at compartmentalizing his emotions. He could only imagine the looks on his coworkers faces upon hearing you say that, at least he can just say you were lying to try and illicit some sort of reaction from him. They don't have to know that you totally used to slip under the table and swallow his cock in a diner full of people. They don't know about that side of him, and Spencer doesn't plan on changing that.

"When?" He presses on with the interview, and surprisingly you're forthcoming with information when you're speaking to Spencer. Even after all this time, he has this annoying power over you. This innate ability to get you to do whatever he wants you to, although you would prefer him to use this special ability in the bedroom. No! No you have to eradicate thoughts like that, Spencer hurt you worse then anyone else ever has. He hurt you worse because he made you think he was going to stay, and then he didn't.

"Few nights ago, she looked really messed up though. Winchell threw her out, definitely doped up on something. Before you ask, no I didn't see where she went." You sigh, finally giving up flashing Spencer the all too familiar 'you win' look. Usually a victorious grin stretches across his face, but not this time. Those times are over.

"Did you see anybody with her?" You're not entirely surprised that Spencer isn't writing any of this down, that stupid eidetic memory. You're fooling yourself if you think he forgot what happened, Spencer never forgets anything. Ever.

"Every detail matters."

You genuinely try to remember if anybody was with Nina, and while you didn't see anyone you remember shortly after she left the diner there was this horrible screeching sound. "After Nina left I heard what sounded like tires screeching on the street. Never saw a car though."

"Thank you Miss Y/L/N, is there anything else you can remember about that night? Anything that sticks out?" After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you shake your head.

"Am I free to go?" You ask quietly and Spencer shakes his head.

"Unfortunately we're going to have to keep you in protective custody. We'll move you to a more comfortable room, but you'll need to stay in the precinct."

"But why? I'm not a drug addict-"

"You are exactly this killers type, and we don't know if looking a certain way is more important or if being a drug addict is when it comes to him choosing his victims." Spencer explains simply, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he stands. When he turns his eyes back on you, you realize he's waiting for you to follow him. You stand and follow him out of the cold interrogation room to a comfier waiting room. It has a table and chairs, vending machine and a big plush couch.

"You can stay in here, we'll let you know when it's safe to go home." Spencer says, and this is when you finally catch the crack in his façade. His eyes flicker away from yours, trying to disguise the waver in his voice, the desperation to vacate the room as quickly as he can. But now that you've seen him break, even a little, you're going to crack him wide open. You won't let it go that easily.

"Spencer?" Your voice is soft, with an innocent drawl that Spencer can't resist. He turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly when his eyes meet yours.

"You do remember me don't you? Once upon a time we were in love." You see the rest of his coworkers trying and failing to look like they're not listening. But it's not like you care if they do, Spencer will though but luckily his back is to the door. After a few moments of tense silence, he finally speaks.

"Of course." It's not the answer you were hoping for but it's an admission, which is more then you were getting earlier.

"Do you miss me Spencer? Miss me in bed next to you?"

"W-Well I-"

"Do you miss when I used to cook your favorite dinner every night when you came over? Do you miss how I loved you unconditionally?" Your voice was steadily growing more hostile, and you knew there were tears building in your eyes. This has all been building up for so long you know you can't stop it now.

"Y/N-"

"Do you miss being able to fuck me whenever the hell you want? Is that what you miss the most Spencer? You must not miss me that much because when you left I didn't even get a fucking call! You didn't even say goodbye, you just left!" You were yelling now, with tears streaming down your face. Spencer had slyly shut the door by now, he knew this was going to happen the second he saw you. He wished he could help you understand why he had to leave the way he did. He was trying to protect you, and he still firmly believes he's protecting you. Look what happened to Haley, what happened to Maeve. Spencer loved Maeve and he lost her like Hotch lost Haley, and Spencer can't lose you. Not you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

"Please try to understand-" You never even let him get close to finishing his thought.

"Understand what? Leaving me? You said you loved me! How could you love me and then leave me alone? While I was pregnant!" Your hands flew to your mouth, you honestly never planned on telling him that. Spencer's eyebrows rose high in the air, and you can tell you just knocked the wind out of him. Spencer's hand reached back for the door handle, "pregnant?"

"Spencer I'm sorry I didn't mean to tell you that way." You tried to explain, and despite the fact that he'd abandoned you, you were dead terrified of him leaving again now that he was stood in front of you.

"Do I have a child you never told me about?" His voice is shaky, afraid. Now you can see all his coworkers heavily invested in your conversation.

"N-No, I...I got rid of it." You said softly, watching the mix of emotions swirl across his face. When his trembling palm curls around the door handle you launch forward to grab at his arm.

"I'm sorry, please don't leave. Not again-" But he's pulling his arm free from yours and turning out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.

Spencer ignored the questions, he ignored the looks. His legs gave out somewhere near one of the couches. He stared ahead numbly, trying to make sense of what you'd just told him. Trying to somehow wrap his head around the terror of you being pregnant and then the grief of the lost possibility all at the same time. By now, JJ and Rossi had shooed everyone away from Spencer. Which he was immensely grateful for, the only thing he wanted now was to be alone. Completely and entirely alone.

Pregnant.

The word kept replaying like a scratched record, screeching in his ears every time he closed his eyes. Spencer pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching him. Whoever it was, he already wished they would go away.

"Damn Kid, I didn't expect you to date such a spitfire." Derek joked as he sat down, doing what he can to ease the tension. Spencer didn't even bother looking up at him, his head stubbornly lowered and his gaze locked on the ground. Derek racked his brain for something adequate to say, but what was there to say? How could Derek find a way to make this right? Spencer just found out you were pregnant with his child and that you'd got an abortion all in the same 10 seconds. It was a lot to process.

"You gotta talk to her Spence." Derek's voice was less humorous this time. Spencer wrung his hands nervously, his eyes finally lifting to meet Derek's. A sharp shake of his head and a flash of the tears in his eyes and Spencer stands, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. Time to get back to work. Someone has to talk to you, Derek can't stand of someone crying by themselves like that.

"It's not really my place-" JJ tried to argue as Derek stood in front of her.

"Someone needs to talk to her, and Spencer isn't going to." Derek said, rubbing a hand down his face as his eyes flickered back to Spencer. Who was currently throwing himself headfirst into the geographic profile of the killer they're looking for, because maybe if he works hard enough the rest of the entire world will just disappear. Maybe if Spencer keeps working and does nothing else you'll just vanish from that room and he won't have to deal with this. It's not that Spencer wants you to go away, the opposite actually but there isn't room in his life for you anymore. It's not safe. Spencer would rather be alone for the rest of his life then put you in danger because he's lonely and misses you.

"Alright, fine. But only for Spence." JJ says, jabbing a finger in Derek's direction before reluctantly heading towards the room you're in. She glances back at Spencer, who has become consumed by the map in front of him. JJ can always tell when something is bothering him, he has physical giveaways. The way his shoulders are rigid as he scribbles something on the whiteboard, the furrow in his brow that lets her know that while he's working on something, his mind is elsewhere. The tremble in his palm from trying so hard to hold everything back, everything he doesn't want anyone else to see. To someone that doesn't know Spencer, he looks perfectly composed, his attention and focus completely on his work. JJ knows him well enough to know that his mind, and heart are sitting tattered in this waiting room on the couch next to you.

JJ creaks the door open, flashing you a smile that makes you absolutely hate her guts. Spencer probably has some puppy love crush on her, she's beautiful. Long blonde hair, slender body, stunning smile. Everything you're not.

"Hi I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ." The way she's looking at you lets you know that she came in here to try and understand. You're not in the mood to talk to her or anybody else in this stupid building except for Spencer. You want to hate him so bad but you can't. You can't because of how much you fucking love him. The bastard.

"Look I know you're probably not all that excited to talk to me-"

"I want Spencer." You snap, and by the look on her face you can tell she isn't surprised that you said that. JJ chewed on the inside of her cheek, how does she say that Spencer doesn't actually want to talk to you?

"Dr. Reid is needed elsewhere right now, but I'm willing to talk if you need to."

"You don't have to lie Agent Jareau. I know he doesn't want to see me, he's doing that thing where he pretends to work on something while secretly obsessing over something else." You say casually, and the fact that you can pick Spencer apart so easily is somewhat off-putting to JJ. But that could be her unrequited crush on him shining through, deep down JJ doesn't like that some other woman knows Spencer better then she does. While you'd love to sit here and wallow in your misery, a much worse idea strikes you then. If you can't talk to Spencer why not fuck with the woman who's clearly in love with him.

"And the little twitch in his fingers, the slight clench in his jaw. See that? He keeps rolling his shoulders back," while everything you were saying isn't a lie- it's guaranteed to annoy her. JJ stayed quiet, she hated that she didn't know what the goddamn twitch in his fingers meant.

"He's tense, but there's more. He can't stand still, keeps shifting from foot to foot. It's driving you crazy that you don't know why he's doing that." You laugh as her annoyed eyes flash to yours for a second before settling on Spencer again.

"You're a profiler, you can't figure it out? That doesn't surprise me, you've probably never considered the fact that Spencer has an unusually high sex drive." Your words completely stun her, and JJ's cheeks flush profusely.

"It means he's horny." You say casually, leaning back against the couch. You love the blush on her cheeks, and the fact that she's clearly biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude. You love that you got under her skin, and yes you're aware that you're a bad person. Now that you've said it, JJ can't get it out of her damn head. Spencer is horny. Spencer isn't a virgin. The thought of Spencer having sex makes JJ feel a sick turning in her gut. She was happy believing Spencer was a virgin, believing that nobody has gotten to experience that side of him yet. Happy to believe that he was untouched, but apparently that was not the case. Now that the illusion has been shattered, JJ feels as though the jagged pieces of it are cutting into her, and she knows you enjoy watching her bleed.

"Trust me, I know just what to do to relieve the tension, I know how to get him off quick. Do you?" You smile as you let your eyes shamelessly drag down his slender frame.

"You're only saying this because you want to control the conversation, and you hate that I see him everyday. That I can talk to him whenever I want, about whatever I want. You wouldn't lash out if you didn't feel intimidated." JJ says calmly, rendering you just as speechless as she was moments ago. The pain that was sent stabbing into your heart caused you to recoil back from JJ, trying to hide your misty eyes from hers. You can't let her know that she's winning.

"Look, we can both get nasty all we want but that's not why I'm here. I just want to help." JJ says sincerely, but you still don't budge. JJ taps her fingers against the wood of the table, thinking about leverage she can use to get you to talk to her.

"Spencer fell in love again." JJ says finally, and this time you turn your gaze up to look at her. You push your emotions down, no matter how much it hurts to hear her say that. Who is she? Are they still together?

"If you want to know more about her, then I suggest you talk to me. An answer for an answer, fair?" You can see her trying to bait you, and damn her because it's working.

"Fine." You grumble, leaning back fully against the couch. Your eyes catch Spencer's for a second when he turns to face the table, presumably looking for a map you remember being on the right side. You point to the right side of the table and Spencer looks nothing but annoyed when he follows your direction and finds what he's looking for. He hates that he functions better as a person when you're around.

"What's the deal with you and Spence?" JJ asks, and there is a lot to unpack with that question.

"Gonna have to be more specific." You say with a shrug, your eyes hesitantly meeting hers.

"How long were you two together?"

"2 years 8 months." You answer without pausing, causing her eyebrows to raise. JJ didn't expect you to remember down to the month, it's been years since you and Spencer were together. That's not a short fling like JJ originally thought, that's a substantial amount of time.

"What's her name?" You ask, desperate to get information on this mystery woman who has stolen Spencer from you.

"Her name was Maeve." Was. You don't miss how she says was instead of is.

"Why do you hate Spencer?" JJ looked like she cared, but you know it's not you she cares about. She's in here to try and protect Spencer in some way, she's acting like you're the villain.

"I don't hate him. He abandoned me. Just packed up and left, no note, no goodbye. Haven't heard from him since." You snap, hating the amount of emotion that was in your voice. JJ's eyebrows furrow, that's just so unlike Spencer. He's not cruel, he's never been cruel but that...is cruel. You see a look flash across her face.

"Sweet boy isn't as sweet as he seems." You say softly, folding your arms over your chest.

"He must have had a good reason." JJ insists, her eyes landing on Spencer's back as he continues to map out the hunting grounds of the killer. You know he's just wasting time to avoid coming back in here. Spencer is a certifiable super genius, he finished mapping it out a while ago. He's just pretending he hasn't finished yet.

"Spence still with her? Maeve." Her name felt like poison on your tongue, and JJ slowly shook her head.

"She died in front of him, really tore him up." Your heart cracks a little bit at her words, you can't imagine how hard that must have been for him. You see JJ open her mouth to ask something else when the door opens, and a man with darker skin pokes his head in.

"JJ? Reid found him, we gotta go." As soon as he arrived, he's gone with JJ hot on his heels. She sends you a smile before she rushes out of the room, and you see Spencer following her path out. They're going to arrest a murderer who has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal.

"Spencer! Y-You can't go, it's not safe!" You blurt from the doorway, and he pauses. His eyes find yours as he holsters his pistol, an unreadable expression on his face.

"It's my job." And that's all he says before he disappears out of the precinct, leaving you once again.

You couldn't quell the anxiety turning in your gut, you're not sure how to exist while Spencer is out there hunting a murderer. You wished that you could turn off the part of your brain that's still so damn attached to him, but no matter how hard you try you can't silence your heart as it calls for him. You're not sure you could survive the constant fear of losing him if you ever ended up with him again, this life is too much for you to take. Maybe he knew that all those years ago when he left you the first time, Spencer always could see right through you. Maybe he left because he knew staying would only lead you to live a life of constant fear, maybe he was trying to protect you. Either way the reasons don't matter anymore because he left, and nothing can change how badly that hurt you.

"Does it normally take this long?" You ask a passing officer, who in turn shrugs before continuing on his path. You feel like you're going to explode or vomit, or both. It's been over 2 hours, should it be taking this long? What if he got shot? What if he's dead right now and you're sitting here with your damn thumb up your ass worrying about him like a useless housewife? Feeling useless, that's what you hate the absolute most. Knowing there's nothing you can do to stop a bullet on it's trajectory to his heart.

"Spence, are you sure you're okay?" You hear a flurry of voices and when his name graces JJ's lips you're pushing out of the room. Your eyes find him instantly, and then travel to his palm which is pressed tightly to his neck. His bleeding neck. You feel your heart rate spike, hammering like the hooves of wild horses as you move without thinking about it. Before you even understand that you've moved, you're stood in front of him. Your eyes try to scan his neck for wounds but his palm covers the location the blood is coming from.

"C'mere." You grab his wrist and yank him back towards where you saw a first aid kit earlier. Luckily your 2 and a half years of nursing school taught you how to stitch a wound and perform basic first aid. Spencer offers no resistance as you yank him to a back corner of the precinct, pushing him to sit down. You grab the first aid kit, slowly prying his hand from his neck. Your eyes mist at the wound, it's a bullet wound. Looks old though, there's scarred tissue. This had to have happened a few weeks ago at least. You see the thin line of the scar, the middle section seems to have opened up again.

"You didn't wait long enough for this to heal." You scold gently, not missing how his eyes watch you with an intensity smoldering in them. You miss the way he used to look at you, the way he's looking at you right now. You miss being the center of his whole world, you scoff. Look how easy it was for him to walk away from you. You threat a needle to stitch the center of his wound shut again, and when you look for numbing cream you discover that there isn't any.

"Spence, there isn't any- I can't find the numbing..." Your voice trails off as you begin to yank things out of the first aid kit to search for the numbing cream. Spencer's hand catches your wrist and it's only just now that you realize you're trembling.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." He settles back against the chair he's sitting in, turning his head to reveal his neck to you. You hesitate, the Spencer you remember had a very low pain threshold. All of a sudden he's expecting you to stitch him up with no numbing agent?

"Y/N, I can handle it." Spencer says again, his voice firmer than before. You swallow a lump in your throat before reaching forward to begin stitching. You press the needle against his neck, eyeing him to gauge his reaction as you puncture his skin to make the first thread. To your surprise he hardly flinches, a small quirk in his lip is the only giveaway that he's in pain. Is this the same man that got squirmy getting a shot? That would shy away from the needle? Now he's sitting here letting you stitch him up without moving a muscle, without even flinching? The more time you spend with him the more proof you get that this isn't the same Spencer that left you all those years ago.

"How did it happen?" You ask, wondering how he could have survived a gunshot to the neck. He shifts uncomfortably.

"Got shot, two inches away from hitting my jugular." Spencer says it so casually, but you're so stunned that you halt your movements for a moment.

"How many times have you been shot?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Is him getting shot a common occurrence?

"Twice. Also got shot in the leg." The casual way Spencer talks about it almost convinces you it isn't a big deal. But it is. It's a bullet ripping through his body, and it's happened to him on two separate occasions. You finish stitching and bandaging him up, your hands moving away from him as soon as you can.

"Thank God you went to nursing school or I'd be six feet under." He jokes. You know he's kidding but still, the thought of it makes you feel lightheaded.

"Don't say stuff like that." You snap softly, and you know Spencer can see the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. You hesitantly steal a glance up at him once he's stood up only to find he's already looking at you. You shy away from his intrusive gaze, and you could practically feel him probing at your mind. Reading your thoughts as if they were written down for him. You hate that he can always tell what you're thinking, you hate that it was so easy for him to read you. Like a damn book. You have to fight the urge to reach out and grab his hand, it's what you always did when you felt lost or unsure. Spencer was always there to ground you and bring your mind back out of your thoughts.

"Miss Y/L/N?" You hear JJ's voice gently interrupt you two. You shoot away from Spencer as though you were doing something scandalous. He doesn't move an inch.

"Yes!" You blurt a little too loudly, suddenly flustered being so close to him. Why does your sharp tongue always leave you when you need it?

"You're clear to go home."

"I can take her." Spencer speaks up before JJ has a chance to offer, and she knew he would. You swallow a nervous lump in your throat, your palms shaking.

The SUV has dark tint, you weren't expecting that. The second you sat back in the plush leather seat your mind flew to lewd thoughts of you leaning over the center console, Spencer's hand in your hair as he helps you take his cock in your mouth. You steal one glance at Spencer, his right hand holding the steering wheel loosely. Your cheeks heat up as you glance down between his legs, get ahold of yourself.

"The address is-"

"I remember." You knew he would. That damn eidetic memory ensured that he never forgot anything. It broke your heart a little, because some naïve part of you was hoping he remembered because it meant something to him. You hoped he remembered the way to your house because he didn't want to forget, because forgetting it meant forgetting you. But you know the reality, you know that he remembers because he has no choice but to remember. His memory is too good to allow him to forget anything, even if it was something he wanted to forget. You're grasping at straws and you know you are, holding onto that foolish notion that Spencer still held onto the memories. That he still held onto the gifts you gave him, crying softly in the night like you did sometimes.

"JJ told me about Maeve." You say softly into the silence, and you saw Spencer swallow thickly out of the corner of your eye. "I'm so sorry you lost her Spence."

"Thank you." He honestly wasn't expecting you to say that, to acknowledge the pain. Because acknowledging the pain meant that you knew he loved her. He did love her. But it was a different love then the love he feels for you. It was special, but so are you. You're special too.

"Have you...dated anyone else?" Spencer can't help but ask as he subconsciously continues the drive to your house. A drive he's committed to his memory, a drive he never wants to forget. You shift to look at him, there were a few you dated. You know when you tell Spencer about them that it'll drive him crazy.

"Tony Anderson." You say and just like you thought, Spencer groans deeply. Spencer detests Tony, they were practically mortal enemies when he still lived in Las Vegas.

"Tony? Seriously?" His tone is incredulous as his grasp on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.

"He was a good fuck at least." You know you shouldn't wind him up, but he hurt you for Christ's sakes. He deserves a little bit of pain too. Spencer flinches, a look of anger and something else simmering in his eyes.

"Please tell me you didn't have sex with Tony."

"Why does it matter?" You shouldn't enjoy upsetting people as much as you do. But there's still a small part of you that's convinced that Spencer deserves this.

"Because I can't live with the fact that somebody else has gotten to feel that perfect cunt of yours, let alone Tony." His crude words take you by surprise, and you can't fight the gasp that escapes your mouth.

"Well before you start digging your grave, relax. I never had sex with Tony." You decide to put him out of his misery, and you see the relief physically flood his body. You lean against the window, the next admission from you will leave the air heavier in it's wake.

"I've never slept with anyone but you Spence." You realize it's been a long time since you've seen Spencer let alone had sex with him but you could never bring yourself to sleep with someone else. It's not as though the opportunity never presented itself, you had plenty of chances to have sex with someone else. But you couldn't because there's still a stubborn part of you that doesn't want to betray Spencer.

"Really? Why?" Apparently this revelation surprised him.

"Because no matter where you go I will always belong to you." You snap without thinking, blinking tears from your eyes as you avoid his gaze. Spencer fell silent then, and you know he feels guilty. Probably because he's slept with someone else in the time since he's been with you.

"I know you have and it's fine I'm not trying to-"

"I haven't." Spencer corrects instantly, his eyes meeting yours through the darkness of the SUV. If he could see you he would see the look of utter surprise on your face. It's not as though Spencer was an overly sexually ambitious person when you dated, but you figured he probably slept with at least one person. "I haven't slept with anybody else either."

"I know someone that wants to though." You grumble without thinking, your mind drifting to JJ and the obvious crush she thinks isn't obvious. Spencer tilts his head in a way that resembles a confused puppy, you resist the urge to ruffle his hair.

"Who?"

"Agent Jareau." As soon as the name slips past the threshold of your lips, Spencer's jerks the wheel in surprise. You see a dark blush color his cheeks as his other hand reaches up to steady the wheel.

"J-Jennifer? No way! She's my best friend." You nearly laugh at his flustered state, and normally you would push it a little further but you decide to let it go. You don't want to completely destroy the way he sees her, you know you already destroyed the way she sees him.

"You have no idea what a catch you are Spencer." You tell him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting ready to exit the SUV. Spencer reaches over and places a warm hand on your wrist to stop you from leaving, his eyes searching yours for an answer he isn't sure you have.

"Come in?" You ask hopefully, you're not ready for him to leave again. Damnit why did he have to turn up again after so long? You were just starting to think that maybe you could move on and find someone new. You were finally starting to feel okay, and then Spencer reappears and turns your entire world upsidown all over again. Deep down you know that nobody will ever compare to Spencer Reid, and you don't want them to. You don't want anyone to be like Spencer, you want him to be his entirely own person. It's what you love the most about him, is his ability to be himself no matter where he is or who he's with. All of his little quirks, the things about himself that he doesn't notice but you do.

"Yeah." His answer comes across as an exhalation of breath, and you try to hide how excited you are. You want to hold on to any moment you can, stolen moments that you take as you please with no regret whatsoever.

"Nothing has changed." Spencer muses once you unlock the front door and push inside the darkened living room. You blush, admittedly nothing about your small townhouse has changed. It's all basically the exact same as when Spencer saw it last. You rub a hand down your arm as Spencer's eyes go wandering. Trailing over the curtains he remembers hastily pulling closed to protect your decency on more than a few occasions. His gaze then travels to the couch, all those movie nights you two spent curled up together. Or when he got you into Star Trek and you couldn't stop watching it. Pain stabs his chest for a moment, it's hard to remember everything he had to let go of to get the job he has now.

"I miss you too, you know." Spencer says off-handedly. It takes you by surprise, the sureness in his tone is jarring. He sounds so comfortable admitting when he's vulnerable, it's never been easy for you to be vulnerable with him. Maybe that's part of the reason he left, maybe you drove him away by shutting him out. His eyes meet yours, a look so soft in his eyes it feels as though his gaze is caressing your skin. You bite your bottom lip to keep the emotions at bay, what is it about this man that makes you so emotional?

"I never said I missed you." You try to snap, to add an edge to your tone. But instead it came out watery and broken, and in turn Spencer reached up to swipe away a falling tear.

"But you do." You can't even deny it, it's obvious.

"Damn you Spencer Reid, I was finally starting to feel okay again." You cry softly, curling your arms towards your chest in an attempt to shrink away from him. He cups your cheeks in his palms, turning your face up towards him.

"I wasn't." He admits before his lips are on yours, and it's not frenzied and desperate like you've been picturing all these years. It's slow and calculated, soft and passionate. Firm but with a tenderness that makes your knees buckle from the gravity of it. Spencer's fingers card into your hair, pulling your head closer to his. He nips at your lower lip, his arms crushing you against his chest. You throw yourself into him, your arms holding him as tightly as you possibly can. Afraid that if your vise grip loosens, even for a second, that he'll slip through your fingers like trying to hold onto water. You almost don't want to let your eyes close, you don't want him to disappear again.

"I missed you, I miss you-" You gasp against his lips, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt. Spencer continues to move his lips languidly against yours, backing you against the wall. His hand ghosts down your side to the hem of your shirt, his fingers toying with it.

"O-Off." You beg, and in an instant Spencer is pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes land on your bare chest, shocked that he almost forgot that you never really wear a bra. His hands curl around your back, drawing your chest up into his awaiting lips. His mouth curls around your hardened nipple, your hand flying into his hair from the contact.

"Is this a dream? Please tell me you're really here Spencer." You beg, almost becoming lost in the emotions again. His eyes flutter up to meet yours, his mouth reluctantly leaving your nipple. He brushes his lips over yours, his hand trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your leggings.

"This is real, I'm here baby. I'm home." Hearing those words was too much, and you launch yourself into his chest as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Your lips press sloppily to his, the kiss messy and wet as his hand slides into your leggings. His fingers find your wet slit in an instant, desperately parting your lips to slide a lithe finger into you. Your body reacts to him instantly, in a way that surprises you. Almost as though it too was crying out for him, keening into him and begging for his touch as much as your mind is. Spencer hauls one of your thighs up to hook around his waist as he presses another finger into you. You cry out softly into the quiet air, accompanied only by the labored breathing fanning across your face.

"I need to feel you, I- I need-" You can barely get the words out as he steadily pumps his fingers into you. His mouth on yours silences your desperate pleading, his chest firmly pressing your back into the wall. You missed being able to feel him and you hate that you forgot what it feels like to have his body on yours. It's been so long you forgot what the sting of his cock feels like. What it feels like when you stretch wide open around him, to feel like you're being ripped in two. Spencer continues his pace, his thumb rolling your clit to provide the extra stimulation you're missing. It's not enough to satisfy you, but its enough for you two cum. Which you do. You gush around his fingers as you gently come undone, your back arching into him.

"Please," You beg wantonly, curling your other leg around his waist as his hands hook underneath your thighs. Spencer's lips press against yours, moving slowly against your own. You know now that you will never stop loving Spencer, and that he's completely ruined you for life. You'll never be able to love anybody else without your heart wandering back to him. But then again, you don't really mind because you don't want to be with anybody else. You don't want to love anybody else. You just want him, only him. He pushes into your room, walking the entirety of the way with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed against yours. He has the layout of your house mapped out in his head? He never even bumped into anything until he was dropping you unceremoniously on the bed.

"Tell me what you need, I'll give you whatever you want." Spencer husks against you, hovering above you. Your fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before you even have the chance to respond to him. You know instantly what you want, what you need from him.

"I want all of you, give me everything." You plead, your lips practically chasing his as he kneels up over you. He's being soft tonight, and that's something you appreciate greatly. You need to feel his love, you need to feel everything you know he can't quite put into words. His hands are shaking as he undoes the button and zipper of his dress slacks before kicking them off the edge of the bed. You stare up at his naked body, looking as though it's been sculpted by the Gods specifically for you. Spencer smiles softly at you as he pulls your leggings down your legs, leaving little nips and kisses on your inner thighs as he goes.

"Hurry." You groan, nearly clawing at his bare shoulders to pull him back up to you. Spencer chuckles at how eager you are, watching with interested eyes as the head of his cock breaches your folds. You reluctantly stretch open as he continues his intrusion, his fists curling tightly around the sheets. Christ you weren't lying about not sleeping with anyone else, you're so tight it's making him feel a little lightheaded. Inch by inch Spencer presses into you, his forehead resting against yours once his pelvis is sitting flush against yours. Sure, you've had sex with hi before but never have you felt this connected to him. Spencer sits like a gentleman and lets you adjust to his size, trying to take a few deep breaths himself. It's hard to breathe with your heat sucking him in with a vice grip.

"Can I move?" You're surprised by how collected his voice is, but the furrow of his brow is a giveaway that he's losing the battle to stay stock still inside you.

"Yes, please." You moan, unashamed. Spencer gently draws his hips back, pulling himself nearly all the way out before swiftly sliding back into your inviting cunt. He sets the pace slow and deep, his hands reaching up to lace through yours. Every time the head of his cock nudges that spot deep inside you, you can feel your toes curl. Your head slams back against the pillows, unable to keep your gaze on him any longer. You feel yourself becoming one with him, and you wish you could capture this moment somewhere other then just in your minds eye. Your memory is nowhere near as good as Spencer's, he'll be able to recall every detail of this moment up until the day he dies. But over time, this memory will fade for you. It'll wear out, all the details becoming fuzzy and blurred. If he's not here in front of you, you'll forget and you don't want to forget.

When the night draws to a close, and the moon has reached its peak, Spencer slips carefully out of bed. It chisels away pieces of his heart as he carefully gets dressed, reaching for his go bag which he'd brought inside upon realizing that he'd be staying a while. He pulls out a t-shirt he'd worn recently and leaves it folded neatly at the end of your bed, something for you to hold onto when he's gone. Spencer's cheeks are wet with tears as he leans over and presses a kiss to your head.

"I love you." Is the last thing he whispers in the space between you two before he's gone again.

On the jet, Derek can't keep his eyes off Spencer and that helplessly broken look on his face. A book is laid nestled in Spencer's lap, but Derek can tell he isn't really reading it. Trying to bother Spencer into opening up probably won't work, but it's worth a try. Derek has to do something and this is all he can think of.

"You okay kid?"

"Yeah fine, why?" Spencer draws his eyes up from the book, his gaze meeting Derek's from across the table. While Spencer might be a talented actor, he can't lie to Derek.

"Look I know how hard it must have been leaving her again-"

"Did you know that on average the FDA allows a minimum of 1 rodent hair per 100 grams of peanut butter? They have to allow themselves room for error just in case of-"

"Alright you win, forget it." Derek sighs, turning his gaze out the window. In an instant Spencer drops his peanut butter spiel, turning back to his book. A guaranteed way to get people off his back is to start rambling about something boring or gross, they usually leave him alone pretty quickly. It's not that Spencer doesn't appreciate Derek's concern, he just doesn't want to talk about it. He can't talk about it, because every time he imagines how you're going to feel when you wake up, tears come to the surface of his eyes. He hates this case more than all the rest even though they saved the victim. Spencer hates this case for ripping open an old wound, one he thought healed.

He was wrong.

When you wake the next morning you knew he'd be gone. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you reached over and felt cold sheets. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you cried how much you loved him over and over again even though he couldn't hear you. It doesn't change how badly this hurts, how much worse it feels compared to the first time he left. Your eyes catch the shirt folded at the end of the bed and you grab it instantly. You pull it over your body and you lay down in your bed, inhaling his cologne that you know will fade over time. Eventually his scent will disappear, removing all traces that this fabric belonged to him at all. Every trace of him will disappear over time, every mark from your body will slowly vanish. When it's all gone, you'll be left with nothing more than a t-shirt that's too big for you, and a cold reminder that the man you love will never truly be yours. A reminder that every time he comes home, he leaves again.

A cold reminder that this world is cruel for bringing you Spencer Reid, only to rip him from you again and again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you

1K notes · View notes

reidjumpers · 3 years

Note

would you ever write something along the line of the minimal loss episode reimagined. so instead of emily being in the ep it’s the reader and spence has the biggest crush on her. it kills him knowing that she’s getting hit and bruised. yeah i don’t know if you would do it but i love that idea.

GUESS WHAT I really love this idea too so I tried to rewrite Minimal Loss reimagined. Please emphasize on tried.

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer could feel his blood run cold at the question Benjamin Cyrus fired at him and you. He subtly glanced towards your direction, pressing his lips and tried his best to maintain his composure. He watched you shift on your seat a little bit, eyeing the gun on Cyrus’s hand intensely.

“Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in faux confusion.

“God will forgive me for what I must do,” Cyrus said calmly. Too calmly. Spencer gulped as he heard the clicking sound of his gun. He caught the sight of you gaping and eyes widened in horror as a gun aimed against his head.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“One of you does. Who is it?”

“Me,” your voice was firm, slicing through the thick tension. Spencer slowly turned his head towards you with a wide eye. You glared at him with an eye that screamed don’t you dare at him, determination and fear swirled together in your eyes made him shiver. He could feel dread and helplessness slowly sinking in. “It was me.”

Cyrus lowered his gun that aimed at Spencer, slowly turned his direction towards you. Spencer shot you a glare and silently demanded you for explanation at your stupid sacrifice. You had just deflated your own fear and bargained for your safety in order to save him. There was a bitter taste curled and overwhelmed him at the tip of his tongue upon knowing he couldn’t do anything to diffuse the situation.

Spencer let his shoulder sink a little bit as Cyrus silently holstered his gun into his pants, allowing himself a brief relief upon knowing that he didn’t have to watch your demise today. It took everything inside him not to jump and inserted himself in between you and Cyrus as he yanked you to the ground by hair and a sound of your pained whimper filled the room. He couldn’t even bring himself to flinch when a rifle aimed towards him as his eyes fixated on the sight of you being dragged across the room.

“I told you not to put me in this position!” Cyrus snarked, releasing his hold on you and slammed you to the concrete floor. Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and could feel the tip of his fingertips go frozen as dread and fear pumped rapidly into his system.

The sound of you being slapped filled the room made him flinch a little bit. He glanced briefly towards the rifle against him, giving him a brief break from the horrifying sight before him. Spencer could feel anger and disappointment filled him with the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything besides watching you being beaten mercilessly by Cyrus. It was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him who took all the beating instead of you. You were everything good left in the world and you are a living reminder that there are lights and hope in life despite all the horror and worst face of humanity he was constantly being contaminated with.

What would he do if you were gone then? The brief horrifying thought flashed before his eyes as he watched Cyrus slammed your defenseless body into the ground again. He could feel hot tears prickling in his eyes at the thought of living his life in void and helplessness if you ceased to exist before his eyes. Spencer collapsed his balled fist into his lap as the realization that he couldn’t live without you washed through him.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut as your body was slammed against the wall and hit the mirror, refusing to picture the sharp shard of glass cutting your skin.

“Proverb 23rd tells us that bloods and wounds cleanse out evil,” Cyrus recited as he yanked you by the collar again and slammed you against the wall. Spencer could feel anger and disdain boiled inside him as he watched your body helplessly fall into the floor after the impact of your collision with the wall.

“I can take it,” you said with a firm voice. Spencer caught your eyes briefly as your eyes flickered in between him and Cyrus that stood in between you and him.

His heart fell into the bottom of his stomach like a heavy sandbag. He knew what you meant from your firm stares alone. You only said that to reassure him and signal the team outside not to come in a rush. It was a minimal loss situation, Spencer had concluded. He drew a sharp breath as he mentally prepared himself for a situation where he couldn’t possibly save everyone and had to accept however many people he could save while others perished.

Spencer glanced up to meet your eyes again before Cyrus moved to block his sight. He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of your eyes screaming I’m fine, I’m okay at him with blood flowing freely from your broken nose. Dread settled painfully in his bones that the possibility of the team having to choose between your life or his was too close than he liked.

He blinked his eyes to shoo away the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t risk blowing up another cover that guaranteed his life when you had sacrificed yours for him.

Cyrus beat and slapped you for another round with disdain painted clearly on his face. “Pride comes before the fall,” he said as he punched your stomach and slammed you to the floor, thinking you were antagonizing him as you repeatedly said you could take it. Spencer let out a relieved sigh as Cyrus took a step back from you and left you shaking with pain on the ground, instructed Cristopher to tie you up and took you upstairs.

Not today, he reassured himself. Forcing himself to be satisfied and grateful for your spared life. Not today.

***

Spencer had just successfully coaxed Cyrus into testing the negotiator for the FBI and proving them that they were not a liar and ensuring your safety. Disgust and anger brewing at the pit of his stomach every time Cyrus glanced his eyes towards him. He somewhat marveled at the plain trust Cyrus gave him effortlessly. The memory of him beating you hadn’t left his mind, still painted fresh and clear as if it still happened before his eyes. He had to mentally restrain himself from glaring in disgust at the thought of Cyrus molesting a child and beating you up until bloody and bruised.

“What is it, Christopher?” Cyrus addressed his man that had been trying to shot down Spencer’s suggestion regarding the situation. Only then Spencer turned his attention fully at him who had been pacing around in agitation repeatedly.

“Some of them had been talking about leaving,” he sighed.

“Leaving?” Cyrus pressed his lips together as Christopher affirmed his question. Spencer balled his fist and hid it inside the pocket of his pants as he waited in antagonizing anticipation with whatever next step Cyrus would take. “Wake the baby. Let’s get them meet the orphan that they made.”

Spencer nodded mutely at Cyrus’s decision. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding this whole time, letting himself loose a little bit and allowed himself to feel relief washed through him. Cyrus had taken the big bait and he had ensured your safety with his lies and negotiation skill. It was the least thing he could do after what you did for him.

He knew he would be damned if he couldn’t get you out of his god forsaken place alive. For now he just has to give and surrender with whatever fate is waiting for him into the hands of the team waiting outside. He took one longing glance outside from the window, wishing that he would be staring into the starless sky with you right now.

***

Spencer watched from the back silently as the members of the cult filled the empty chair inside the chapel one by one. What was once an empty and quiet chapel now buzzing with life and the air was stale and raked with fear. The negotiation test went as smoothly as Spencer could wished for. He heard Rossi rattling out your identity to Cyrus in exchange for your safety from a speaker phone as they released the orphan into the team outside.

You emerged from the opposite end of the chapel, a swarm of children and women pushed through from behind you. Spencer stared and watched the way the sunlight that slips through the chapel window fell into your skin. The glowing sunlight from behind your back casted a halo behind your figure. He noticed that your blood had been cleaned up and there were a few specks of dried blood on the collar of your shirt. Some newly formed bruises littered your face, angry and red and was a painful sight to behold. He hated it.

Cyrus was listing out names from the list he had written the day before as Spencer slowly made his way towards you. Everyone’s attention was focused on their leader calling out the names on the altar, but Spencer’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes were watching Cyrus solemnly as you leaned yourself into the wall to support your weight.

Spencer lifted his hand to touch your face and stopped midair before he realized a tad bit too late. His finger twitched painfully with a burning desire to feel you underneath his fingertips, but he couldn’t risk another round of beating and blowing up plans that had been rolling quite smoothly so far.

Guilt surged inside him like the sea, disdain and bitterness brewing and threatening to explode from the bottom of his stomach. He could feel himself dying a little bit inside at the frightening state you were in, all because you were sacrificing your life for him. For his sake when he wasn’t even sure he deserved it.

You finally acknowledged his presence and spared him a glance. Your eyebrows furrowed together in distress and Spencer had to restrain himself from the temptation to put his thumb in between your eyebrows and smoothen out your stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. If he could take away all your pain, he would.

“He looks pissed,” you whisper-yelling at him. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to respond to your words. Even after you took the downfall and hard beatings for him, you still think about other’s well-being instead of yours.

You took another glance towards him from the lack of response from his part. Your eyes scanned his face briefly before your lips twitched into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Spencer shook his head, refusing to believe your words. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and full of regret scratching his throat painfully.

“No, no,” you shook your head and quickly squashed his apology. “No apologies. We both know one of us has to take it.”

“But why should it be you?” Spencer hissed through his greeted teeth. His distress and agitation, and overall emotions that he had been trying to tuck and buried it away seeped into the surface. He could feel his mask cracking and threatened to be broken, and he was thankful for the roaring voice of Cyrus listing out names that masked his own. “Why should it be you? Why couldn’t it be me?”

“He had a gun against your head, Reid!” you hissed back with an equal amount of emotions laced on your voice. “I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t let them kill you. I know they would kill you first if one of us refused to answer. I can’t, Spencer, I—” you took a sharp breath and glanced away from his prying wide eyes. He could hear your voice wavering and your eyes glossed with tears. “Look at the people he’s releasing.”

“It’s the one who failed the loyalty test,” he observed. The previous slip of emotions was being put to the back of his mind again as he noticed the new fact he just found. “I’ll get word to the team, wait for the sign from outside indicating what time the raid will come.”

You stared at him with a wide eye, confusion and fear swirled together. You looked so vulnerable and small like that, like a polished porcelain that could crumble into dust anytime. Spencer nodded firmly and gave you a reassuring smile, silently asking you to believe him. He almost jolted with surprise when you grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly and briefly, understanding what he was trying to do.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

He nodded and turned away to make his way to Cyrus, not believing himself to utter any single words without breaking down. He was determined to make sure you were safe and would make it out alive, whatever it takes.

“Told her she shouldn’t have blinded you like that,” Spencer told Cyrus with a faux exasperation and disappointment. He shuddered when Cyrus nodded sympathetically.

“To either of us,” he corrected him sympathetically, which made Spencer want to do nothing but curl up in disgust. Cyrus jerked his chin towards your direction and addressed Christopher, “Bring her back.”

Spencer watched you being dragged up by your upper arms into wherever they were keeping you. He forcefully gulped and shook away the lump of dread on his throat, disbanding it as soon as it was formed. His eyes were apologetic and yours were nothing but filled with determination and forced bravery.

Those who had failed for the test were ushered out of the farm through the front door. Spencer mentally counted the amount of people who walked out into a guaranteed safety, relieved that it held a much greater amount that he had prepared. It was only a matter of saving the rest and finding a way in for the team to bring you and him out of this place.

Cyrus was making his final and last negotiation call with Rossi, asking for a fried chicken and its sides for their last supper and the presence of media to document his sacrifice to God. A suicide attempt to bring down himself and his faithful fanatic followers was a more appealing option to him rather than surrender himself to the authority apparently. It was obvious from the first time Spencer stepped into the building, but it still didn’t fail to fill him with dread and fear.

“I’m always looking for signs of things to come,” Spencer explained to Christopher with a polite smile after he demanded how he had known Cyrus’s plan of final act of sacrifice all along. He maintained his gaze firmly and silently wishing that the team would catch his words through the parable microphone planted outside. It would be his only hope and way for them to come in.

***

Thick smog and fire blinded his sight and blocked his way. Spencer stumbled upon a block of brunt wooden log as Morgan dragged his limping body outside the chapel. Cyrus was dead, but Jesse had finished his suicide mission by blowing up the chapel and the rest of the building. He could hear sirens blaring outside and faint sounds of wails and fearful screams mixed together in the air.

The thought of you trapped inside the building flashed before his eyes for a moment. He didn’t have a moment to glance back to make sure about your whereabouts as he kept coughing and stumbling, Morgan’s grip still firm on his upper hand to drag him outside into safety. Fear started to paralyze his body that he nearly fell into the concrete fall face first. He just needed to see you, to make sure you were safe.

He didn’t know that the sight of armed soldiers and police cars could bring an immense amount of comfort for him. Spencer nearly cried at the overwhelming relief that he was out unharmed, slipped by the last strand of his hair from his ultimate demise. But he couldn’t allow himself to be relieved and comfortable before he knew where you were. Before he knew if you were safe.

“Spencer!” your voice came faintly in between the chaotic sirens and the sound of angry fire eating up the chapel. “Morgan!”

Spencer watched you squirm out of Emily’s embrace, running limpy towards him. He knew he had burst into tears as soon as his eyes landed on you, safe, alive, although littered with bruises and dried blood on your shirt. His shoulders sank and shook as your arms wrapped around him tightly, all the horror, fear, and dread that he didn’t allow himself to feel in the past few days before had rushed into him and knocked all the air out of his lungs.

Relief and comfort of knowing you were safe in his arms was a breath of fresh air for his burned lungs. Usually he would squirm at the thought of touching someone, but the steady rise of your chest as you breath against him overcame all the unfortunate uncomfortable thoughts that came with the activity of hugging someone.

“You’re safe,” Spencer gasped as he released you from his embrace. He was aware that everyone was watching him hugging you and he fought all the mortification that slowly crept up his cheeks. He tried to mask it away as being a relief to find his coworker made it out alive from the sticky hostage situation.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you reassured him with one last firm squeeze on his arms. He wanted nothing but to pull you into his arms again, shield you for any harms lurking in the outside world. The anger that had been forgotten on the back of his mind surged inside him again. But he had to be satisfied with only one final squeeze as you parted from him to be checked by the paramedics.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet and a peaceful one. Everyone was winding up and breathing from the horror of the case that just wrapped up. Spencer tried his best to distract his mind with his book, burrowed in the furthest corner of the jet as the comforting and steady hum of the jet lulled him to sleep.

You slipped into the empty seat right across from him. A weak smile and a timid greeting were exchanged between you and silence followed right after. Spencer knew what conversation would follow after this, and he didn’t want to face it just yet. He had stopped reading from the moment you took the seat and watched him with careful eyes, but he still put up the act in the hope it would steer you away from bursting his bubble.

It did not. Spencer didn’t put up a fight as you gently took his book away from his hands and placed it gently on the table.

“I need you to listen to me,” you started with a firm voice. You were wearing the nice lilac shirt that Spencer liked, and the bruises on your face had started to heal and fade away. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault. It was my decision and I would do it again.”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you tilted your head with your lips pressing together, discouraging him to counter your statement. He took a sharp breath and shook his head.

“Do you hear me?” your voice was softer this time. Your hands silently reached for his and held them gently. Your thumb made a soothing pattern on his knuckles, a reassuring and determined smile was on your face. Spencer couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. “Do you hear me, Spencer? I will do it again. It wasn’t your fault. It was my decision.”

“I know,” he answered finally.

“Thank you.”

“Please know that I will do the same for you.”

His words had caught you off guard. You stared briefly before nodding, patting the top of his hand gently with your hand as you gave him a really bright smile. Spencer let himself sink further into the comfortable leather seat and let relief washed through him again. Everything will be okay.

#spencer reid #minimal loss #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #cm #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #cm fluff #cm angst #mgg #matthew gray gubler #minimal loss reimagined

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velvetcloxds · 3 years

Text

LEAVE ME BREATHLESS| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x fem! Reader

Word count: 2135 words

Warnings: none, just fluff

Summary: Reader attends her senior prom with her friends, however she can't really enjoy it as her boyfriend Derek is in Mexico searching for Kate, luckily though, Derek is full of surprises.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Stiles asks in a rush as he comes into my room. His eyes scan the bed quickly as he sees my dress and shoes scattered onto the duvet. “We had to leave half an hour ago.” He informs me and he ignores the obvious frown on my face as he walks over to the bed to pick up the dress. I groan loudly as I wipe the rest of my makeup off, ignoring his dramatic gestures behind me.

“I’m not going, Stiles.” I tell him and he makes no trouble to hide his shock, his mouth opening to protests as he steps towards me, throwing the dress over his shoulder as he touches the back of my chair.

“I don’t understand that sentence,” He announces and spins my chair in the same breath. “I refuse to understand that sentence, considering the fact that you’re the one forcing us to go,” He pauses to drape the dress over my knees and smiles encouragingly. “Now, enough of the dramatics, get dressed.” I sigh.

“Stiles.” I groan and he ignores this, pulling me from the chair and softly pushing me into the bathroom with a stumble.

“Dress and shoes, I’ll wait out here.” He tells me and I contemplate objecting for a sweet second, but cave instead.

He’s right for pushing me to get dressed, because I did in fact force everyone to go tonight. Prom in the middle of a crises seems out of order, but it’s the last time we’ll all be here together and it’s important to make memories, even if only for one night. Besides, it's Beacon Hills, there is never not a crises at hand. Although I hadn’t realized until now that I’d be going stag among all of my couple friends. And I certainly didn’t realize that the one person I want to be here isn’t.

“There she is!” Stiles exclaims with a large smile as I emerge from the bathroom. “Shoes,” He says as he holds them out for me. I take them, lifting the layers of my dress high enough to slip the heels on and out of the corner of my eyes I can see him stuffing multiple makeup products into his blazer pocket. He smiles when he sees me. “Lydia will help you in the car.” He informs me and I have just enough time to grab my clutch and some perfume before he starts pushing me out of the room and towards the jeep.

“You look amazing.” Lydia tells me as we reach the jeep. I smile, pushing a curl behind my ear as Stiles opens the back door for us to get in.

“Yeah, you’re both gorgeous. Now get in,” He rushes and Lydia rolls her eyes before jumping in, with me following suit. “Makeup.” Stiles says as he hands us his blazer over the seat, starting the car in the same movement. I smile over at Lydia as she removes everything from the pockets, looking over at Stiles through the mirror every few seconds where his eyes already wait for hers.

It doesn’t take long for her to get going. Applying everything in the correct steps, stopping briefly when Stiles gives her the bump warning. I sit still through the process, my mind slipping away from reality as I let her do her job.

“Glossy or Nude?” Lydia asks and I realize we’ve stilled in front of the school. She holds up two lip-gloss tubes for me to choose from and I reach forward to take the glossy one, knowing it’ll be much less of a hassle to reapply. “Good choice, we’ll wait outside.” She tells me, squeezing my hand before getting out of the open door that Stiles holds on to.

“Hey man!” A new voice yells from across the parking lot and I peak out of the window to see Scott and Malia walking hand in hand towards the jeep. I smile to myself and then use my phone as a mirror to quickly put of the gloss.

“Where’s Y/n?” Malia asks just as I get out of the jeep and her face lights up when she sees we’re both wearing black.

“You look very pretty.” Scott tells me as he leans in for a quick hug and I smile before following the four of them into the school.

I swing my clutch over my shoulder and allow my fingers to tangle into the little charm on my necklace, my heart swooning over to the hands that clipped it on for me a few months ago.

The gym hums with excitement as everyone moves in somewhat of a rhythm to the song that the band is playing. The decorative balloons begging to be released from their strings to the ceiling. A large collection of different coloured lights flickering on beat against the walls.

“We’re going to dance!” Malia yells over the noise, harshly grabbing onto Scott’s hand and pulling him towards the dancefloor. Scott just smiles as he allows her to lead him away.

“Do you girls want something to drink?” Stiles asks already backing up towards the snack table and Lydia just smiles as she shakes her head to tell him no. He looks at me and I mimic Lydia’s gesture which causes him to nod quickly before walking off.

I look over at Malia and Scott who are both waving us over to join them. Lydia smiles. “You coming?” She asks leaning in. I look from her to the dancefloor and I really don’t feel like jumping around and shuffling against other people right now.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room really quick and then I’ll join you.” I tell her, leaning into her as well so she can hear me. She looks me over for a second, probably checking to see if I’m okay and then nods before walking away. I wait for her to reach them before turning around and walking to the door we just came in through. I just got here and already I feel like I need some air. I bend down to take of my heels and hold them in my hand as I walk over to the school sign, pushing myself up and placing my purse and heels next to me.

Senior prom. It’s one of those milestone nights, one to remember forever. Physically I’m ready, but my mind is far away from the glitter and the punch. My mind is with Derek Hale and so is my heart.

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, unlocking it quickly to dial the number of the motel he’s staying at in Mexico. It rings a few times before a loud beep tells me that he’s not in his room. I sigh before adjusting myself on the wall and bringing the phone closer to my ear.

“Hi,” I say almost too softly, I pull my knees to my chest, the dress draping around me. “I missed you again. We can’t seem to get this scheduling thing right. I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” I smile as I look up at the stars. “I’m at our spot right now, thinking of you in a suit and a tie. You look handsome by the way,” I close my eyes to picture it, but shake my head when the image starts to drift. “Anyway. Call me back when you can. I miss you.” I put the phone down next to me as I continue to look at the starts, swallowing down the tears in my throat.

“Now, you know damn well that I don’t wear ties.”

“Derek?” I question softly, my voice shaking with excitement at the very idea of that voice in fact belonging to my goofball. He laughs lightly and now I don’t even have to think about it to know that it’s him.

I turn myself around quickly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before losing my balance and slipping from the little wall. His laughter continues as he moves to catch me, getting hold of my hand just in time to stop my untimely collide with the concrete. He pulls me against him to steady me and despite the countless times we’ve done this, I still need to catch my breath. My cheeks burn as I feel his eyes moving over my body taking his bloody time to look at every single feature.

“Beautiful.” Is all he says as our eyes meet and my lips tilt upwards as a natural reaction to his presence. I move my hands from his and carefully reach upwards to touch his face, hovering for barely a second before softly cupping his cheeks. My smile grows.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, his hands folding around my waist to keep me close.

“I missed you,,” He informs me, like it’s just that simple. “Stiles called.” He continues and I can’t decide where to rest my eyes as he speaks. “He said you weren’t acting like yourself this week and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why,” His thumbs trace the stitching of my dress. “And I wasn’t exactly doing any better on my end, so here I am.”

“I was losing my mind without you here,,” I tell him, my heart beating in my throat as he smiles down at me. He tilts his head to look at me even closer and I almost instantly look down. “When do you have to go back?” I ask after a moment of silence and I feel his body tense against mine, letting me know that it’s a lot sooner than I’d want. He sighs, his hands tugging me closer.

“Let’s not think about that,” I look up to see him grinning brightly, his eyes almost sparkling as he stares at me. “We have tonight. I can hold you in my arms and hear your voice,,” He kisses my nose, the suddenness of the gesture making me giggle. “I get to hear that intoxicating little sound,” He exhales slowly. “We have tonight.” He tells me softly and his voice drifts as he leans in, I jump away from him quickly, mischief on my mind as I back away from him.

“Would you like to dance?” I ask him and he groans loudly, eyes telling me exactly what he was about to do. I laugh softly.

“Not exactly.” He pulls a hand through his hair and a glimmer of frustration rests in his raised brow.

“Come now, it’s my prom night after all,” I take hold of both his hands. “Are they playing a slow song or a fast song?” I ask him and he shakes his head at me before closing his eyes to listen.

“Slow…” He says and I smile, part of me being glad that I don’t have to stop being so close to him after all.

“Is that so?” I muse, the tone of my voice prompting him to open his eyes and without missing a beat he pulls on my hands until I’m once again held firmly in his embrace. I giggle again, something I realize only happens so naturally when I’m with him. Our hands shift into place and I tangle my fingers together behind his neck. His arms dangling loosely as his fingers fold around my sides.

“I might just enjoy this after all,” He informs me with a silly little smirk as he guides us to a rhythm only he can hear. We sway in silence for a while, my face against his chest and his chin on my head. “I don’t know how I went on so long without you,” He says suddenly, lifting his head so I can look at him. “It’ll be downright impossible to do it now.” He tells me, bringing out bodies to a halt as he lifts a hand to my face, his fingers stroking over my cheeks slowly. I close my eyes as the sensation captivates my senses.

“I know what you mean.” I say softly, sliding my hands down his blazer where I rest my fingers against his chest.

“I love you,” He tells me and I open my eyes. He uses his thumb to lift my face, a smile filling his lips when he looks at me. “Say it back , won’t you?” He asks playfully and I smile as well, my heart swelling with pride.

“I love you, too.” I tell him and he laughs.

“Again.” He tells me, looking over me as he waits for me to say it.

“I love you too.” He laughs again, softer this time. Happier.

“Yeah…” He kisses me quickly, not nearly long enough to make up for the time we’ve been apart, but the way he looks at me leaves me breathless. He rests his forehead against mine. “I’ll never be able to leave you again.”

Hi there, more of my imagines can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

#derekhale x reader #derek hale imagines #derek x reader #derek hale one shot #derek hale #teenwolf x reader #teen wolf

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violetsoju · 3 years

Text

let’s go on a ride (where to)彡★

suna rintaro · fluff? · 3.1k

a/n: here’s a cookie for you if you can guess correctly from which song i got inspired by 🍪 (hint: it’s from a female soloist!) do let me know if you enjoyed it! ❤️

The first time you got on his bike was when you were late for your finals. Being the ironically procrastinator and overachiever you are, you dunked 3 cups of coffee the previous night in attempt to stay up drilling pages and pages of chemical processes and reactions, along with the insane number of structures and behaviours of molecules that seemed to stretch on forever into your poor cramped brain. So when you woke up to your clock staring at you with its long hand 20 minutes away from the scheduled time of your doom, you knew you were indeed, doomed. Your shouts and failing hands to the bus driver fell on deaf ears, leaving you gasping for air, hands on your knees as you reached the now empty bus stop.

You were about to make a run for it when a motorbike pulled up beside you, a male voice catching your attention. “Hey.”

You turned to see fox-like eyes staring back at you, one which had you intrigued since the first encounter. Even though his other features were hidden beneath his helmet, the boy clad in black on the bike was undoubtedly, your next-door neighbour.

“Get on my bike, let’s go.” he said, throwing a helmet in your direction.

Despite living right next door, the both of you never had a conversation with each other. You don’t really see each other too, in your defence. Normal greetings would just be a small nod of acknowledgement, sometimes with a small ‘hi’ if you were feeling sociable enough.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

“Where to?” he asked, as you climbed onto the back seat.

“Hyogo University, please.” You grabbed on the rail bar behind, praying that you won’t somehow fall off.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you missed the bus, because weaving through unusual heavy traffic on two wheels was definitely more efficient than being stuck on four wheels. You yelped as you almost lost your balance from the zigzag drive, instinctively grabbing hold of his waist as you both zoomed past the congested roads.

Never in your life had you been so happy and relieved at the sight of your university. Jumping off the bike, you were about to sprint to your faculty when you stopped midway at your tracks at his call.

“Hey! My helmet!”

Turning back meant risking having the examination doors being slammed in your face. “I’ll return it to you later!” you shouted, waving the back of your hand towards him as you dashed to your examination venue.

Later that night, the boy found the sides of his lips tugging upwards slightly, huffing a breath from his nose in amusement at the sight of his helmet hanging on doorknob of his apartment. It was filled with packets of choco pie and a small yellow note in it.

「 Thank you so much for today! I got to my examination venue right on time thanks to you. Please let me know when you’re free. I’d like to treat you to a meal as a gesture of appreciation, these treats obviously aren’t enough.

-Your next-door neighbour 」

He opened a packet of choco pie and folded the small piece of paper neatly into the pocket of his jeans, making his way into his apartment.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise when you locked your front door the next morning. There was a small green note stuck on your door, along with a box of chocolate koala march biscuits secured tightly with tape.

「 It’s not a big deal. Now we’re even, so save that for something else. 」

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you got on his bike was on the way home from your job interview. You knew your heels were to go, and you should have gotten a new pair soon. But being the last-minute shit you were, you prayed with all your heart for it to survive on you till the end of the day.

Well, to be fair, it did cooperate with you for most of the day, besides than the awful blisters on the back of your heel and toes. It only gave up on you after the interview that went wrong (allocated interview slot being postponed and postponed, the central air-conditioning blasting like the North Pole, and what was it with companies and their ridiculous prejudice towards young women and maternity leaves), when your right heel got stuck in a sewage drain cover, snapping into half when you used too much force to get it out.

Then it rained. And of course, you left your umbrella at home as there were no indications of rain when you checked the weather forecast. Maybe the rain felt like giving the sun, along with the weather bureau, a surprise that day.

And maybe it felt like it had its fair share of fun after seeing your miserable state, drenched in its merry little splatter and your own infuriation, as it bid the sun goodbye and went back home once you got off the bus to your neighbourhood.

So here you were, walking barefoot on the scorching yet damp concrete pavement back home, adding more damage to your open wounds. Well, what other choice did you have? It’s not like you would break the other heel into half to balance it out, right?

The stares and hushed whispers around you couldn’t much compare to what was going through your mind now. Heck, you couldn’t even care less of how you looked. Smudged makeup and faint colour of your innerwear peeping beneath your now see-through white blouse were the least of your worries now. All you wanted was to get home, fill the tub with warm water, turn on some music, and let all the frustration built up in you sink away through the evening.

Walking around the last block of shops, you kept your eyes on the pavement, not noticing a familiar figure leaning against the wall a few shops ahead.

“Hey.”

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, you didn’t realise a human wall up ahead.

“Hey!”

You winced at the sudden impact from the body slam, snapping up to find a boy around your age towering over you, alluring fox eyes meeting yours. “Sorry,” you muttered, stepping aside to continue on your way.

A warm hand grabbed hold of your arm, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden touch. He had his head tilted slightly to his left, his usual blank face staring back at you. But the hint of concern that subtly flickered in his eyes as he silently inspected you from head to toe made you stop in your tracks.

Maybe it was the series of incidents that happened throughout the day that had your mind spiraling in turbulent directions, or maybe it was the delicate warmth in his eyes that seemed so inviting, it wasn’t a bad idea to linger in it for a while. Whatever the reasons were, he was granted the rare permission to take a small peek through the faint cracks of your hardened shell, into the dark fiery void that held you hostage.

You kept your eyes glued on the ground as he kept his gaze on you, curling your bruised toes together against the hard concrete, contemplating if you made the right decision.

Once he was done with his inspection, he moved towards his bike parked by the side of the pavement, grip still on your arm, and dug out for an extra helmet underneath the seat of his bike. He placed the helmet over your head, featherlike fingers brushing against your skin as he secured the straps around your chin gently.

“Get on, let’s get home.” he said, tapping the top of the helmet as if he was patting a little girl’s head.

The journey home was silent, in a comfortable way, and you were grateful that he kept his curiosity to himself.

He dropped you off at the lobby entrance of your apartment, nodding in acknowledgement as you returned the helmet while mumbling an audible thanks. You should’ve waited for him to take the elevator back up to your floor together, but you were just so bloody done for the day. At least you pressed the ground floor button as you exited the elevator.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you got on his bike was after dinner one night. You were at the nearby convenience store in your pjs, a bowl of hot oden in hand, staring out at the night through the glass window. Late night convenience store runs were the best, because most people would be snuggled up in their homes, leaving the world to those like you to enjoy in peace in quiet.

You were on your third fish cake skewer when an unexpected presence made its way next to you. Gleaming hazel eyes locked with yours, and you found yourself unconsciously lost in it again.

He placed a plastic bag filled with an assortment of jelly fruit sticks on the table, savouring a purple coloured one in hand. You chuckled at this new side of him. This wasn’t quite something you pictured him to be.

He turned to you questionably. “Is there a problem?”

You shook your head. “Not at all, I’m just surprised with this new information.” You offered a fish cake skewer to him.

He gave you a green coloured jelly fruit stick in return. “There’s no age limit for these, are there?”

“Nope, you’re more than welcome to enjoy them,” You peered at the plastic bag. “Can I have the red one instead?”

“Picky.” he jokingly huffed.

The both of you enjoyed the rest of the night by the windowsill, making comfortable small talk here and there.

It was past midnight when you both made your way out of the convenience store. “Do you usually walk back alone at this time?” he asked, rummaging his pocket for his bike keys.

“Yeah, but not to worry, I can protect myself quite well. Ain’t no damsel in distress.” You jiggled your self-defense kit attached to your house keys at him.

He hummed in agreement, handing you a helmet. “My younger sister has a set of that too. That pepper spray is no joke.”

“What did you do to piss her off?” You fastened on the helmet strap nimbly, climbing onto the now familiar backseat.

“I was her guinea pig to test if it worked. And damn it worked well. 5-star rating.” The bike engine roared, muffling your laughs and off the both of you went in the night.

You furrowed your brows when he drove past by the turn to your apartment. “Hey, you missed the turn!”

“Buckle up, we’re going on an adventure.”

Apparently, his so-called adventure was to the neighbourhood hilltop which you had never dragged your lazy ass up to hike before. There wasn’t much to see in the dark surroundings, maybe it would be better in the day.

“For a moment I thought you were gonna abduct me or something.”

“By a guy that eats jelly fruit sticks at this age? Plus, you’re not even worth a bag of jelly fruit sticks.”

He fake coughed as you shoved the helmet in his chest playfully in retaliation.

The hilltop wasn’t that high, but high enough to overlook the charming neighbourhood below. Looking at your neighbourhood from a different perspective made you appreciate it more. The quaint coffeeshops, the now quiet primary school, the lush recreational park, they all looked so small from the top. So this is what birds see from the top, you thought.

Placing your hands on the wooden fencing, you closed your eyes for a moment to enjoy the cool breeze caressing your face, taking in a long, deep breath. Even the air up here was clearer.

You turned behind to find him lying on the grass with one knee up, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the black canvas above. You took your place comfortably next to him, mimicking his actions. A soft gasp escaped your lips, taken aback by the view displayed before you.

Maybe it was the cold reality and gradual maturity along with age that had your mind conditioned to thinking only the glowing lights of the city lit up the dark night skies. Long had you forgotten the existence of the scattered diamonds shining up above; one that lit up the skies and your eyes as a child, one you dreamt of picking from the sky to replace the plastic fluorescent ones on the celling of your nostalgic childhood room.

It was simple pleasures like this that kept boundless curiosity and imagination run wild, that made each day enjoyable and fun, that made one realise how beautiful life could be.

And to remind one how important it is to live in the present.

“Do you know how to identify constellations?”

“I only know the name of my zodiac sign, if that counts.”

“No.”

You chuckled at the small pout that formed on his lips.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing how people in the olden days could navigate their way with just a few blinking dots in the night sky? I don’t even know how to use a compass.”

“That’s why we have Google maps now.”

“Can you be a lil bit more enthusiastic?”

“You can’t deny that what I said is true, can you?”

It was his turn to chuckle at your exasperated sigh.

“Have you seen a meteor shower before?”

“Yeah, once I think.”

“Did you make a wish?”

“I guess so.”

“Has the universe granted your wish then?”

“A secret shall remain a secret.”

You hummed in response.

Truth to be told, the both of you were keeping secrets from each other: your identities. Sure, you both knew each other as next-door neighbours, but what else?

Perhaps he has the upper hand here. He knows you’re a university student from the first ride on his bike, he (somehow) knows you’re searching for a job from the second ride, and now he knows your little late night konbini run affair. All you know about him is that he rides a bike and likes jelly fruit sticks.

But you don’t mind. In fact, you like this anonymity. It’s what makes the relationship between the two of you more engaging, precious and real. You could let down your guard with him. No judgements, no defensive barriers, no facades.

Sure, you would be curious about his background at times. Is he the same age as you? Is he a fellow struggling university student like you? Or has he plunged into the battlefield called work already? But if you could be you wholeheartedly, and he could be him wholeheartedly too, that’s what matters the most at the moment.

“Are you certain that you made your wish correctly?”

“Are there procedures for making wishes upon shooting stars?”

“Duh. You gotta look up to the night sky, close your eyes, clasp your hands together, then make your wish. That’s how it works.”

“You could shake hands with my younger sister and be sappy drama sisters.”

“Maybe that’s why your wish hasn’t come true yet.”

“I’m not falling for your trap.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Man, I can’t believe nothing came out from what I studied for the whole week. Nothing. My feelings have been cheated on.”

Atsumu and you were currently slumped over the table at the convenience store next to the university, each with a hotdog in hand, along with an array of snacks scattered across the table. The both of you had just finished your classes for the day, and instead of grabbing proper dinner, you both were stuffing yourselves with junk food like children.

As to quote Atsumu, “Where’s the joy in life in blindly following the rules? Rules were meant to be broken. And it’s not like we do it every day.”

“Giving up so quickly? What happened to the ‘new semester new me resolution’, huh.”

Atsumu slammed his face on the table, groaning in distress. “Everything’s a scam. Life is a scam.”

You huffed out a small laugh at his exaggeration, eyes riveting back to the bustling street outside the window. Groups of students making their way to the bus and train station, couples choosing their dinner place hand-in-hand after work, a line forming outside the newly opened sushi place that served sushi on a mini bullet train. A typical Thursday evening.

A familiar jet-black bike among the line of bikes lined up by the pavement in front of the convenience store caught your sight. Oh?

Your mouth must’ve worked faster than your brain as Atsumu looked up to face the same direction you were looking at. “What yer looking at?”

“Oh, Suna must be around here somewhere. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Suna, huh. Nice name.

“That’s one sexy looking bike, isn’t it? I always wanted a ride, but dude always speeds off even before I have the chance. Treats it like his wife. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone one ride it besides him.”

“Poor you, it’s a really nice ride.”

“The engine sounds amazing too- Wait. Wait a hot second. You rode it before? How? You know Suna?” Atsumu’s energy switch was turned back on, eyes wide like saucers as you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He’s my next-door neighbour, duh.” Atsumu swore he was so close to throwing hands at your nonchalant attitude on the matter.

“Speaking of the devil, there he is.”

Suna emerged from the bakery on the opposite street, a bag of freshly baked goods in hand. Crossing the busy road to your side of the street, a glint of surprise gleamed in his eyes at the sight of both of you through the window, mostly from the shock and betrayal expression of the blond. He nodded to Atsumu in greeting, which was replied with Atsumu barking questions at him from the inside.

“What the hell, Suna? We’ve been friends for so long and I’ve never had a ride before, and she gets a ride? Really, Suna? I thought we’re more than this-”

“You know he can’t hear you from outside, right?” Atsumu paused to stare at you for a moment, and continued shooting questions and making dramatic gestures to the boy grinning slyly at him outside.

Suna turned his eyes to you, tipping his head towards his bike. Wanna go home?

You gave him a smile. Yeah, sure.

You got up from your seat and shoved half of the snacks on the table into your bag. “Later, Atsumu.” You bid the blond goodbye, patting his shoulder in condolence as he gawked at the both of you like endangered animals in the zoo.

“Suna you lil shit.”

Maybe you weren’t only getting rides back home on his bike, maybe you were getting a ride into his heart too.

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poppunkporco · 3 years

Text

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader fic)

the one where you walked me home (porco x reader)

contents: porco x fem reader, mentions of marcel galliard, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, alternate universe - college/university, modern au, bisexuality, smoking, porco galliard-centric

rating: teen and up audiences

summary: When he walks her home that night, Porco realizes he might have feelings for his childhood best friend. He has no idea in hell how to deal with it but he tries.

word count: 5079

notes: i just thought it'd be interesting to try writing a modern au porco/reader fic in a more porco-centric POV. what i try to do here is explore how he deals with the soft sappy feelings of slowly realizing he's in love since he's pretty bad at emotions and even more so when it's not a [strong, violent type of feeling]

*fic loosely based on this song:

*this is also cross-posted on ao3

***

2:40 AM at an empty parking lot behind a 7-Eleven. The nearest lamp post flickers weakly with its dimming orange light as Porco sets down his third empty beer can on the concrete with a yawn.

“Hey,” he says, lightly shrugging the shoulder against which she leaned her head on. She doesn’t budge from beside him. He rubs the lethargy off his eyes.

They’ve been sitting on this parking block for almost three hours now-- since they left the gig hours ago at the pub just across the university. They’d just spent the past few hours ranting about midterms and how fucked up alienated labor is along with the absence of ethical consumption under capitalism-- and how everyone is forced to participate in it, talking about trips they’d like to make in and outside the city, their ideal lovers, and anxieties about the future. This was a thing they did now and then, usually on Fridays and Saturdays-- seeking a kind of cathartic escape from their hectic academic life in each other’s company. A friendly rendezvous they’d jokingly call dates every now and then.

He leans forward just enough to get a peek at her face, partly obscured by the mess of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

So she’s asleep.

His eyes dart towards their things lumped together beside her feet-- their backpacks sitting atop an A4-size sketchbook along with the last unopened beer can.

Porco idly clinks his finger against the top of the beer can he had just emptied as he breathes out a wistful sigh.

Somehow, she always reminded him of his long-gone brother. Not to say that she shared even a bit of Marcel's fairly easygoing yet charming demeanor. Because she was far from that. She was loud with a crude mouth-- more like Porco himself, really-- except that she at least was kinder, more pleasantly charismatic towards other people than himself. And in that way, yes, she did remind him of Marcel. But there were other things-- pastimes and memories that reminded him of his brother when she came to mind. They’d known each other even as kids. Back in middle school, Porco remembers how she’d visit their home on the weekends so the three of them could build a Lego city which Marcel himself had drafted on the back of one of his sketchbooks. Those two were always quite the artists even as kids-- Porco recalls fondly. His brother had been the one to introduce her to Porco during one of those weekends. He didn’t like it at first-- how Marcel would seem to pay more attention to her at times as they animatedly sketched parts of the city on paper in the middle of assembling the Lego blocks. He’d eventually learned to be tolerant of her presence at least as the weekends passed by and the city gradually came to life-- vast with skyscrapers, houses, trees, vehicles, and lamp posts. Porco distinctly remembers building a garden with her beside a house that resembled the Galliard residence. He had assembled the green pieces that resembled leaf blades onto the flat Lego board, while she topped them off with tiny colorful flower pieces. It was honestly quite fun and it became a thing he eventually looked forward to on the weekends with Marcel.

But all things come to an end and at times, at points where they feel like they’re not supposed to. Porco knows this well.

In Marcel’s old room, the city remains hidden away, unfinished.

It was on a rainy day when Marcel had met an accident on his way home with a schoolmate. Onlookers had witnessed him racing against the red light to push Reiner away from the path of an incoming vehicle.

Even if it was an accident, Porco despises Reiner after that. He'd decided to never talk to him after the incident but as fate would ridiculously have it, they’d meet again in high school-- as classmates, nonetheless, to his dismay.

It was after this same incident that Porco had grown closer to her-- the only other person who possibly knew Marcel almost nearly as he himself did. She knew about the city and she knew about his sketches, after all. In the first few days after his brother’s wake, they’d simply talk about Marcel as they walked home together after school and how they both missed him. Those walks home would eventually involve detours at the nearest Mcdonald’s where they’d get nuggets and buy a Happy Meal-- the ones that came in flimsy cardboard packaging printed with colorful cartoon mascots-- for the sake of getting the collectibles that came with them. It was a thing they never really grew out of. Even now, as college kids, whenever they’d find themselves eating out together at the nearest Mcdonald’s after their Philosophy classes scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they’d get themselves a Happy Meal, even if they sometimes earned puzzled looks from the cashier as they engaged in quick, petty quarrels as to which collectible they should get.

Soon, Porco feels her shuffle in her seat beside him, the weight of her head now off his shoulder. She rubs the sleep off her eyes with a yawn.

“...should go home,” she drawls, accidentally kicking one of the empty beer cans sprawled in front of them on the concrete. It lands right at the feet of a passer-by who in turn shoots her a cold glare before kicking the can back in her direction. "I-- hey, uh, sorry about that," she apologizes, louder than necessary. Said passer-by only clicks their tongue in annoyance as they raised a middle finger at her before walking away with a muffled swear under their breath.

She exchanges incredulous, befuddled looks with Porco for a few silent moments before eventually letting out a snort and bursting into a fit of stupidly drunken laughter with him.

“...is what I mean… fucking capitalism... makesnasshole out ofveryone,” she remarks, broken phrases drawn out in between chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I got it for the tenth time,” Porco says, laughing with a roll of his eyes. He stands up and stretches out a hand in front of her. “Now can we go home? Can’t exactly start a revolution when the alcohol’s fucked you up that bad,” he says with an impatient sigh.

“Yeah? How do you know? Did Karl Marx write that?” She languidly takes his hand.

“No, but-- fucking… well, I don’t know. Maybe? Indirectly? I mean, we did just give in to consumerism,” Porco says with a sharp click of his tongue as he pulls her up to stand.

“Well… yeah. I guess so.”

“Anyway.” Porco places a palm at the top of her head and urges her to face him. “You seem more out of it than me. I’m walking you home this time, alright?

”She shrugs languidly. “Sure, whatever,” she says, her words muffled as she falls face first into his chest.

“Give me the fucking keys,” he says coarsely after her third failed attempt at unlocking the door to her own flat. In the dim light of the hall, Porco tries to make out the shape of what he recognizes as the right one among the five keys dangling from her keychain. He sighs, frustrated as he finally unlocks the door.

“How the hell did you--?” Confused, she eyes the keys still dangling from the door. “Why wouldn’t it open when it was me?”

“For the love of--” Porco runs a palm down across his face with an exasperated sigh. “You were forcing the wrong key.”

“Oh.” She snorts trying to stifle a chuckle. Porco pulls the keys from the door and hands them to her along with the sketchbook he’d been carrying.

“Thanks.” She gives the door a light push before finally taking a step into the flat. And then a sudden stop. She pockets her keys and lets the sketchbook fall on the carpeted floor of the foyer. She tilts her head pensively for a few moments, staring blankly at the darkness of her room. Porco raises an eyebrow in confusion. She turns on her heel to face him again.

“What is it?” he asks.

She stands on the tips of her toes, eyeing Porco with what felt to him like newfound curiosity. She rests a hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

Her other hand soon reaches up to cradle the side of his face. It comes as a surprise, but not the kind that made you flinch or visibly react in some way. This was simply… unexpected. Weird. And somehow new.

She’s looking at me. And she’s looking like she’s waiting.

And what is she waiting for, exactly? He feels a nervous lump in his throat, swallows it down. He has half the mind to lean his face closer as he, too, looks at her-- and he looks at her like he’s waiting.

Alas, whatever this is-- it ends where it feels like it’s not supposed to.

“‘Night, Porco,” she says with a feeble smile before falling back flatly on her feet.

“Yeah. You too. I’ll see you around,” he says, tentatively glancing at his side.She crouches down to lazily pick up the sketchbook before finally entering her flat again. Porco catches her giving him a tiny wave through the crack of the door moments before she completely pushes it closed. He bids her goodbye with a curt nod.

Once the door closes, he rolls up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time.

3:15 AM. Porco raises a palm to his cheek. The ghost of her touch lingers on his skin.

***

“Are you serious?” Porco scoffs. “Y/N, you’re not even watching the film.” He leans his head against his palm with his arm resting on the side of the couch.

“Sure I am,” she says, unpinning her hair before letting her head fall on his lap. As she types out a message on her phone, Porco manages to make out Pieck’s name at the top of the chat box.

“You keep checking your phone.”

“It’s fine. We’ve both seen this film before anyway. I told you-- I’m just rewatching it for my paper on Nietzsche.”

“So you dragged me into this for what?”

She gives a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know. Felt like it. Just wanted to bother you for a good film.” She finally sets aside her phone to look up at Porco with a shit-eating grin. He sighs and flicks a finger against her forehead. “Ow. What the fuck.”

“At least try to look like you’re actually watching,” Porco says, turning her head to face the TV screen.

"Fine, fine," she says with a grimace as she kneads the pain away on her forehead.

They’re now about an hour into Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. As lovers Joel and Clementine ran through the memories-- hand in hand mapping the history of their relationship-- the ups and downs-- scenes of the two playfully mocking the film at a drive-in theater, a stroll through the flea market leading into talks of having a child, lovemaking underneath the covers as Clementine told Joel about her insecurities rooting from childhood-- all these small intimacies that nonetheless revealed to each other their flawed, detestable selves along with reasons they probably shouldn’t be together, Porco realizes it.

He looks at her, notes the way the flicker of the TV screen daintily lit up her solemn face and how she’d break into a smile every now and then. She’d brush the back of her hand against his knee and point at the TV screen to tell him that this was among her favorite parts so he absolutely had to pay close attention. A bit funny considering she was the one who wasn’t paying much attention to the film during the first part, Porco thinks. At least she’s watching now, even as he can’t help but watch her instead.

As he absentmindedly brushes a hand against her hair, he wonders if they could be something more, wonders if they’d be anything like Joel and Clementine-- imperfect, but nonetheless worthwhile. They’d known each other since they were kids and he can definitely make a list of things he doesn’t like about her-- like the way she’s too loud and frisky and never seemed to take the right things seriously, how scatterbrained she was that she’d forget the schedule for a midterm exam and how her room always seemed to be in shambles, the way she was so stubborn she’d easily get upset at something as simple as choosing to eat at a fast food different from the one she insisted on, how she’d smoke in his dorm no matter how many times he’d told her that she could get him in trouble for it. But it's not like he's perfect either. She’d told him that he came on too headstrong at times and that’s why a lot of people felt intimidated by him-- a trait that had gotten him into fights and eventually, long afternoons of detention back in high school. She says she hates the way he thought himself too strong to cry in front of anyone and how he’d grown dismissive of opening up to her as they got older. Whenever they’d get into heated fights, she’d tell him that all you ever are is angry and how he was pretty shit at saying sorry like he meant it. And despite all of these, they had remained close friends over the years. They’d promised each other that they’d get better-- slowly, but surely-- even if that was something easier said than done. He could live with that. He would.

***

“Hey, uh--” Porco breathes out a puff of smoke as he hands her the cigarette. He gazes distantly at the parade of city lights before them-- from the headlamps of the vehicles passing below them on the bridge, the streetlights, and the buildings overhead. “--do you still like Pieck?”

She suddenly lets out a cough and a puff of smoke at that. She gapes at Porco incredulously.

“Pock, it’s been three years since we broke up. And that was high school.”

“Look, I know that, but--” he sighs. “I was just wondering.”

She laughs. “That’s not really what you wanted to ask, is it? There’s something else.” She raises an eyebrow at Porco. He rolls his eyes at that, irked at how easily she could read him. “So ask.” She passes him the cigarette and he takes a drag of it.

“Ok--” he says with a sigh. “--Have you liked any other girls after her?”

She raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“No, not really. Nothing serious, at least. I mean, I did have a crush on this girl who sat beside me in English class during freshman year. But... that was freshman year, you know? Nothing ever really came of it. And you know I would have told you if something actually did, anyway."

“I see.”

“There’s more you want to ask,” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Ok. Fine.” Another drag of the cigarette. “How about-- boys? Have you liked any guy at all since then?” The city lights blur against the filter of smoke. Porco refuses to meet her eyes even as he feels her gaze on him-- heavy with something he could not exactly put his finger on. He knows she’s not smiling anymore and from his periphery, he thinks he senses a swallow in her throat. She turns to the city overhead.

“Yes, actually.” She takes the cigarette from him, smiling fondly upon the light brush of their fingers. “I-- you know, even though I’ve known for a long time that I liked both guys and girls, I still find myself doubting that sometimes. When I’m attracted to a girl, I sometimes think that maybe I was just gay all along. And now that I find myself actually liking a boy again, a part of me entertains the thought that maybe me liking girls was just a phase and maybe I was straight all along. But... I just know it’s not like that. And yet, what people say still gets to me-- they’ve got a way of making you think that being bi isn’t a real thing. Even though it is. I know because... I’m real, right?”

“Yeah. You are. You’re… you’re here.” The corner of his lips turn up as he says it. “I get it. I mean, I think I’m the same.”

“Really?” She turns to gape at him.

“I suppose I’ve never told you this either because it’s so fucking embarrassing, but…” He sighs defeatedly, kneading his temples with unease. “...I made out with Reiner in high school.”

She regards him with a scandalized look.

“Dude, what the fuck. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I do, alright? It’s just that… teenage hormones and shit. I was stupid and he’s stupid. I-- I don’t know what I was thinking that time. But… I do wonder sometimes--” He scratches his head tentatively. “--what my brother was thinking rushing in to save him from that accident. Like… just what did he see in that meathead that was worth saving?”

“And did you find your answer to that when you were making out?”

Porco eyes her with a deathly glare.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, so you did,” she says with an impish grin.

Porco flicks a finger against her forehead.

“Ow-- hey! Stop that,” she says with a grimace. “I mean, I don’t blame you. Reiner’s hot.”

He clicks his tongue at the remark before hastily seizing the cigarette from her grasp to take another drag. "Not like he's the only guy I ever found ho-- I mean liked."

She laughs.

"We should head back," he says coldly.

"Sure.” She nods. “Though… is there anything else you wanted to ask?"

As the filter of smoke hangs between them, Porco wonders about the boy she likes.

He shakes his head. "No. It's nothing."

***

“It was like deja vu,” Porco says, sighing into his phone as he shifts to lie near the edge of his bed. “Except in this dream… before she said goodnight, we, uh--”

“You kissed?” Pieck suggests from the other line.

“Well… yeah.” He puts a palm to cover his face, feeling the flush on his cheeks as he says it.

“So you like her,” Pieck says, almost breaking into a chuckle.

“I, uh…”

“I get it. She’s charming and reminds you of Marcel.”

“That’s…”

“I’ll be honest with you.” She sighs and Porco senses a smile from her tone. “Remember when I said I broke up with her because uni was getting too busy? The truth is that… I feel like you two always seemed to get along better than I ever could with her-- and it probably has to do with Marcel. When I realized that, I’ll admit I did start to feel jealous. I thought back then that you two might eventually get together. After all, you two were both still in high school, while I was already away in uni. It left me distraught for months so I just... decided to break it off. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s been years and it’s not like I haven’t dated anyone else since then. And in hindsight, that just might have been for the best. I mean, you confiding in me about her right now-- I think-- is a testament to that. Because you realized it too, didn’t you?”

“Oh." He pauses. "I never thought that you-- Pieck, look, I--”

“Pock, if you feel guilty about it just because I used to date her, don’t. It’s not anyone’s fault. That… that she just loved you first. It’s circumstance. She met you and Marcel first before me.”

That she loved you first. As Porco echoes the words in his head, he becomes acutely aware of the beating in his chest and the warmth swarming his face. He buries his face in a pillow and screams into it.

“Hey, Pock? You ok there?” Pieck chuckles.

“How do I-- you think I should tell her?”

“Well, it’s the honest thing to do. And I genuinely think you don’t stand to lose much by doing so. Even if by the littlest chance of her not returning your feelings, I don’t think confessing would ruin your friendship. Might be a little awkward at first, but I don’t think she’ll end up hating or avoiding you at all.”

“You sure you’re not just sayi--”

“No, Pock. I’m not just saying this because we’re friends. I’m saying it because it’s what makes sense.”

“Ok, well… thanks,” he sighs. “And by the way… I’m sorry I called you this early. I know you’re probably busy especially since it’s your thesis year.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you told me. Frankly, I do find satisfaction in knowing my speculations are correct. And you guys… you two are more predictable than you think-- if I’m being honest,” Pieck laughs.

“Well, I suppose being predictable isn’t so bad… if you’re right.”

Once they bid each other goodbye on the phone, Porco remains sprawled across the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He rests a palm on his cheek, internally cursing Marcel as he feels the warmth streaming his face once again.

***

“Fuck,” Porco swears under his breath as they both ran towards the car, their feet splashing against the puddled ground as the rain cascades. A looming thunder rolls across the night sky as they make it to the safety of the vehicle.

“So… still not convinced that trying to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday at midnight was a bad idea?” Porco says, trying to catch his breath as he sets down the paper bag on the space between their seats.

“Well, I’ll admit it kinda sucked that you had to have your car still parked in school. And in my defense, I didn't expect the drizzle to cascade so soon on the way back. But you know what? It’s fine. We got what we needed and that’s all that matters. I’ll stand by this being a good idea.” She laughs as she peels off her drenched jacket. “Oh, by the way, where can I put this?”

“Just put it in the backseat,” Porco says as he peeled off his own jacket.

“Got it. Here, give me yours too,” she says before turning to place both of their drenched jackets in the backseat.

“Thanks.” Porco switches on the car’s dome light and the windshield wipers. The car’s interior now warmly lit, he rummages inside the paper bag, then hands her a box of chicken nuggets along with a plastic fork. “You want the fries now or later?”

“Later’s good. Thanks.” Porco acknowledges her with a nod, then leans back on the car seat with a languished sigh.

The rain patters incessantly against the windows over the rhythm of the windshield wipers. The faint yellow glow lulls from the ceiling of his car. He recalls a rainy evening spent staring out the window as he nervously waited for Marcel to come home. A distant memory weighs heavy on his eyelids.

“Porco. Are you ok?”

“What? Yeah.” Porco shifts lightly in his seat, slightly startled. “I just… remembered something.”

“What is it?”

“The rain. It just reminded me of Marcel.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, he was…” She puts down her food and lightly wipes the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Back then, I considered him as something a little more than a best friend. I like that he liked my drawings and how he never made fun of them… even though he was ways better than me at it,” she recalls fondly.

He scoffs. “So… are you guilt-tripping me for something I said about your drawings when we were twelve?”

“You were an asshole, but you should be glad I’m past that.” She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “All I’m saying now is that Marcel was... really special to me.”

“What-- did you have a crush on Marcel or something?”

She snorts. “You could say... it was something like that. Yeah.”

Figures. He nonchalantly crosses his arms in front of his chest. The pattering rain fills in the lull in their conversation.

“I like your drawings too,” he finally says.

“That’s why I drag you along every time I go out to draw. You like watching me, right?” She teasingly raises an eyebrow as she says it.

“Well, sure.” He shrugs awkwardly in his seat.

“Tell me. What else do you like?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see…” he sighs, feigning annoyance with a roll of his eyes. “I like it when I’m in the middle of pulling an all-nighter at Tim Hortons… and you go on and disturb me just to get a Happy Meal on a rainy Friday midnight.”

“Yeah?” she chuckles. “What else?”

Porco turns to glance at her. As she meets him with a playful grin, his mind races with answers.

I like it when you steal my jacket and you leave me to freeze to death in the cold of the cafe’s AC. I like it when you go on a chaotic, semi-coherent drunken rant about how badly you want capitalism dismantled. I like it when you remember Marcel. I like your hair. I like how your hands unpin your hair before you rest your head on my lap.

He scoffs-- more in reaction to his own thoughts than at her teasing. Who knew he could be that embarrassingly sappy? “What are you… getting at?”

“Nevermind.” She shakes her head, still smiling. She laughs while timidly raising a palm to her cheek. “Can we share your fries now?”

***

“So I’m thinking of getting a tattoo,” Porco says, settling himself on the dormitory steps faintly lit by the porch lights hanging on both sides of the entrance.

“Cool. So where do you want it?” She sits beside him while setting down her things-- a shoulder bag and a sketchbook on the concrete step.

“I was just thinking on my arm,” he says, pointing a finger at a spot on his skin.

“What do you want it to look like?”

“Not sure yet.”

“I could draw you one.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. I could do it right now.”

“Really?”

She takes the ballpoint pen out of the spring of her sketchbook and begins to doodle something on his arm. Covering her drawing with a cupped palm, she chuckles while mischievously peering up at him.

“I swear to god, if you’re drawing something embarrassing-- Oh, fuck you.” Porco laughs, managing to take a peek at the ink drawing of a cartoon porcupine with the hair on its head stylishly pushed back. Below the drawing, it writes 'porcopine.' He pulls his arm away from her grasp.

"What? You don't like it?" She grimaces.

"Porcopine? Really?"

“What? It's cute,” she says with an offended click of her tongue, reaching for his arm once again.

Below the word 'porcopine,' she then writes the phrase 'i <3 you.'

Porco furrows his brows upon reading the phrase, then lets out a chuckle. “What does this--?” he asks, pointing out the inked words on his skin.

“What do you mean? It is what it is.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do.”

“How do you mean it?”

She tilts her head pensively and squints at Porco as she gathers how to describe exactly what she meant. She supposes that he’s right-- a clarification was indeed necessary. This kind of thing could get confusing, after all. When you’ve known each other for so long in a relationship such as this, lines tend to blur. One day, you could both feel like the bestest of friends, and then like lovers the next.

“I mean it in a way that I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

“Oh.” Porco gapes at her for a moment. “Ok,” he says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“What’s with that reaction? I’m serious, Pock.”

“I just… I mean, to be honest…” He furrows his brows, carefully pondering his words. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you either.” Porco scratches his head sheepishly.

“Ok then,” she chuckles, shifting in her seat to face him. “We could build something. Something bigger than a Lego house. Maybe one with a garden. A story with a perfect ending.”

“Yeah? And if it’s not perfect, what then?”

“Something worthwhile, then. An ending that feels like an ending.”

“Ok. I can live with that,” he laughs.

“Porco.”

As she cradles his face in between her palms, Porco becomes acutely aware of the flush in his cheeks.

Then, slowly, she leans closer to gingerly place a kiss at the tip of his nose.

They soon find themselves both chuckling at what was probably the most blatantly romantic gesture between them thus far.

“So, uh, what are we now, exactly?” he asks awkwardly as they soon pull away.

She shrugs. “Lovers? Best friends who would marry each other? Though the latter is kind of a mouthful if you ask me.”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that first one.”

“Say, Porco.” She tilts her head questioningly at him. “You want to tell me how this night ends?”

“How the hell should I--”

She puts a finger to his lips and shakes her head. “Hey. Lovers now, remember? I’m not the only one telling this story. So tell me.”

“Ok. Let’s see,” he sighs. And so he indulges her. “It ends with you beside me. We’re lying down on my bed.”

“Clothed or naked?”

He gapes. “Are you seriously even consi--”

She flicks a finger against his forehead as she regards him with a mischievous smile. “Just answer the question.”

“Ok, fine,” he resigns, lightly kneading his forehead. “Look, I want to say naked because my AC’s broken ri--”

“Naked it is, then.”

“Clothed.” He glares. “For tonight.”

“Fine, fine,” she says, scratching her head in resignation. “You sure you’re not having second thoughts about letting me stay tonight, though? Not worried you might wake up with a bunch of porcopines on your face? Or I don’t know-- dick drawings?”

“Fuck off,” he says with a chuckle.

“So… what is it, really? You want me to stay or you want me to go?”

Porco sighs before slowly leaning his face closer to hers.

“I want you to stay,” he says against her cheek, before placing a chaste kiss on her skin. “Whatever I wake up to in the morning, I’m sure it’s worth it.”

#porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

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bang-fantansies · 3 years

Text

Yandere! God Profile - Taehyung

Human Amongst Gods [TEASER] - upcoming fic

Warnings: Suicidal! Taehyung, suicide attempt, mentions of anxiety, mentions of emotional numbness, mentions of death, mentions of afterlife, extreme isolation and loneliness, mythical creatures (imps).

I did my best to include any triggering topics mentioned in this post, but if you see any more potentially sensitive topics I may have missed, please let me know!

This does not represent Bangtan as people or a business, nor does it represent anyone/anything associated with them. This is purely fictional and was made for entertainment purposes only; not to slander anyone or any company.

Name: Kim Taehyung Occupation: God of Death

Taehyung had never had a life, so to speak.

On the contrary, he’d only ever known the fringes of it - the last whisper it would emit before being snuffed out. By him.

So was his purpose as he was hailed as the God of Death.

A title that comes with great power, Taehyung would soon discover.

But with such great power comes an even greater loneliness.

After all, most other gods from galaxies over knew of his reputation, and how to stay away from him if they wished to avoid an untimely death at the simple touch of his hands.

The same for mortals, he’d found.

Day in and day out, he’d sit at the sides of thousands of mortals, watching their soul drain from their body and take his arm as he guided them to their destination.

And every time he did so, he’d feel a sense of malice spike in the back of his mind.

He knew that mortals were released from their duty to wander the Universe a lost soul.

So why not him?

Or, at least, a companion to travel without him: to smile at him without fear in their eyes, to touch him without their body trembling.

But such a fantasy had never come to pass.

Not yet, at least.

And after being exiled from most areas of the Universe for all his life, Taehyung had accepted his fate as a dealer of death. The responsibility of cataloguing and distributing death throughout the Universe was a mighty job, after all.

So much so that he’d employed underlings - impish little beings - to bear the brunt of the work for him.

To release and record all the souls they’d freed that day.

And when all was said and done and his office imps went home for the day, he realised something.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Even his subordinates had families and homes to go to, but he had nothing.

He just existed for the convenience of the Universe - to maintain the balance that allowed it to live on.

And so here he stood - before a window of a wall overlooking an empty planet he inhabited and used for his work.

The land was filled with office buildings identical to his own, stretching as far as the eye could see; a field of concrete.

Each building housed a thousand or so imps, all working to keep up with the ever-increasing demand of death records that required filing and uploading to the System.

And Taehyung looked upon them as he would his own children.

They were the only company he had. And even then his workers had never actually seen him, for he spent his days cooped up in his office or out harvesting lives.

This was for their benefit, of course. Hellish creatures like them were not immune to Taehyung’s touch.

No-one was.

Taehyung’s reflection gazed back at him, the buildings taking a backseat as it came to focus on the stranger before him.

With so little experience and so little identity, would the Universe really collapse without his effort?

Would anything change if he were to...disappear?

Taehyung oftentimes found himself wondering such a concept in the few spare minutes the day held for him, but before a decision could come to fruition, he was called say to a far-off galaxy to harvest the lives of the ready-to-depart.

Taehyung bit his lip and glanced back into the confines of his office.

Red carpet, four walls of sheer darkness, all glass yet revealing nothing but darkness.

There were no achievements to be held on shelves or written in history books.

The only thing to be written in books about Taehyung were the deaths he’d orchestrated and recorded himself.

He literally had nothing to show for his life, despite having existed for many thousands of years.

Taehyung stuck one hand in a pocket of his suit, raising his other before the glass and making a swiping motion before it.

The glass vanished, simply fading from existence, allowing the frozen winds of Taehyung’s planet to invade the office.

Eyes half-lidded, taehyung peered over the edge.

Nothing but a straight drop for miles.

Taehyung knew what death entailed for mortals, but for gods, he had no idea.

No god had ever shown signs of having reached another place after death, which was a good incentive for other gods to avoid Taehyung.

The fear of the unknown bound them to their current existence, making them claw at any chance of survival they could reach when faced with dire circumstances.

With this in mind, Taehyung continued to lean over the ledge, gazing down into the pits of the desolate city.

The promises of the cycle of isolation his life had been urged him further.

He took a step forward, tips of his shoes peaking over the ledge.

He could feel the cold intensely, for it pierced his jacket, almost as if trying to push him back into his office.

“You had your chance. Now I get to decide who lives and who dies.”

His voice was carried by the wind, the high altitude ensuring that the message would reach no-one, to become a mere footnote in the grand scheme of things.

A final word to those that had pushed him away - forced him into his own corner and expected him to survive.

A particularly harsh blast of wind made him wobble, though he made an effort to try and keep his balance.

The numbness that came with his profession was lightly pierced by doubt, a flash of anxiety.

The most primal part of him knew this wasn’t the answer to his problems. With any luck, he’d simply become part of the darkness from which he had been plucked to begin with if he actually went through with this.

But even that had to be better than a lifetime of isolation, right?

On shaky legs, Taehyung inched over the edge, keeping his heels firmly planted in the carpet of his office.

He willed his eyes shut, the combination of the iced winds and the anticipation of falling made them flicker - fight - to stay open.

“It’s all over now,” he promised. “No need to fear.”

His own assurances eased his nerves, giving him the last push he’d need to right the wrongs his existence had brought.

The world slowed, Taehyung forcing a leg forwards to hover over the edge.

The frost nipped at his exposed skin as the leg of his trousers could do little to battle the winds.

His balance loosened, causing him to sway back and forth with the grace of an antique rocking horse.

He was so close to freedom.

He could feel himself lighten as the weight of worlds dropped from his shoulders.

But solice was not meant for him.

Not like this.

Behind him, his phone chimed.

It was not the same sound he’d hear when he was notified of another death.

No, this was the unfamiliar tinkling of a bell: a stark contrast to the melancholy hum he’d installed when he was to be called to work.

His ears pricked, so finely tuned to the sound of a knell that this fresh noise frightened him, almost tipping him over the edge.

A quiet part of him begged him to check what it was - anything to get away from the ledge.

The much larger, number half barked at him to hold his ground, stick to his guns and just get this whole ordeal over with.

He knew who to listen to - he knew when he saw the notification he’d find a reason not to carry out his plan.

And despite knowing nothing of the notification or its nature, Taehyung hesitated.

It would be a shame to die a curious man, he thought.

Besides, it was probably nothing important. Then he could spend an eternity in peace without wondering what this sound could mean.

Taehyung brought his leg back in, stumbling away from the ledge.

The prick of anxiety he’d experienced before quietened yet stayed at his side, an accomplice to his survival.

He left the window open, however.

Sighing, he shuffled over to his desk - a deep and dark mahogany - and died his phone lying dead-centre.

With Taehyung’s presence near, thy e screen aprung to action, displaying a notification.

It was a message. Sent from an unknown number.

Taehyung arched an eyebrow and brought the phone close to his face, unlocking it and opening his messages.

His contact list was barren save for this mystery caller.

Aware of this, he had adopted the presumption that it was a nuisance caller.

Though who dared to play jokes on such a deadly force as himself, Taehyung had no idea who would have the balls to even come up with such an idea.

And he checked.

He wanted to know who had jested him before his demise.

The message was blunt, void of courtesy, yet held a string of salvation for Taehyung.

There is another way.

Taehyung glanced over his shoulder and out to the sea of buildings .

Had someone seen him?

It wouldn’t be a surprise considering some of the imps were bound to still be at work, though Taehyung’s office was so far above the clouds that he’d assumed no-one would have spotted him.

I can only hope that I’m not too late.

I can help you.

Attached to the second message was a picture of a woman, a halo hanging above her head like a target.

Taehyung’s eyes widened, his breath short.

Pale fingers fumbled for his tie, pulling it loose while he observed the picture further.

He knew that halo.

He’d seen only one other like it in his many thousands of years of life, and even then it wasn’t glowing with life.

It had been while he was visiting a museum dedicated to gods past, and such a relic had appeared in a heavily-guarded display case.

Without its owner to wear it, it was neither as vibrant nor as beautiful as it lay on a satin pillow, merely resembling a circle of bone rather than an ethereal object.

But it’s brilliance enraptured him all the same.

He’d believed it a fable - a legend created to keep him tame and willing to do his job.

A legend of a soul who could withstand Taehyung’s killing touch.

And here he was, seeing it for a second time, in action.

Interested?

Taehyung found himself pausing.

This could just be a trick, he told himself.

But...what if it wasn’t fake?

He requested proof that the image was real.

The response was clear cut and blunt.

I can take you to her.

Taehyung glanced over his shoulder again, paranoia projecting shadows in the corners of his vision.

Still, nothing but the open window.

He glanced back down at his phone.

What did he have to lose?

All right.

Take me to her.

I will. The stranger typed.

But first, I need you to do something for me.

I don’t own the pictures used in the moodboard, but I edited the moodboard myself.

#bts #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #taehyung #taehyung x reader #yandere taehyung #yandere taehyung x reader #kth #kim taehyung

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chxrrysangel · 3 years

Text

The Diner

Part Two | Masterlist | Part Four

Summary || Bucky surprises Diana with a lunch date, opening up a box of even more shocking revelations

Pairing || fakeboyfriend!bucky x black!ofc

word count || 1,704 words

Warnings || language, fluff, pet names [ darling, doll face, angel, love ]

“Alright everyone, class dismissed.”

“I genuinely despise this class.” I look over to my best friend, watching her fold up the small blanket she carries to sleep in the boring lectures. I don't know how she does it and still passes.

“Well Nat, blame the Dean my love. She’s the one that made Smith a Psych teacher.”

“Ugh, Williams and I have beef for that one.”

“Definitely. C’mon we gotta go before she starts yelling.”

Nat and I quickly make our exit through the lecture hall, careful not to agitate Professor Smith with our supposed-“loitering.”

“So Di, where are we eating today? Steve told me about this new restaurant in town and he wanted to bring everybody there today. Wanna come?”

“Well—”

“Hey, doll face.” My head snaps to down the hall, seeing a certain long-haired biker boy.

“Bucky, hey!” I run from Nat towards him, wrapping my arms him.

“That good enough for you?,” I whisper in his ear.

“Perfect,” he whispers back.

“Bucky and Diana…never thought I’d see this happen.”

Hearing her voice, I untangle myself from Bucky’s arms and smile sheepishly.

“Nat, I was gonna tell you—”

“No babe, it’s alright. I’m sure you would’ve eventually. So Bucky, what’s up?”

“Well, I’m stealing your little lady and taking them to lunch.” Nat smirks at his words, before shooting me a knowing look.

“Alright. But don’t forget to return her at some point. Her next class is in two hours.”

“Yes, ma’am. C’mon Walker. I got a special place to take you to.” He doesn’t wait for Nat to say goodbye before he’s tugging me along, hand wrapped around my waist.

“So James, where are we going exactly?”

He grins at my inquisitive nature. “You’ll see darling. Don't worry.”

~~~~

“Oh my god no way!” I practically tackle Bucky in the concrete parking lot, overcome with excitement over where he took me.

“This is the diner we went to last semester to take breaks from studying. We spent so time here.” I smile at the memories of us playing table football and drinking milkshakes between late night study sessions. Whenever we started to get burnout, Bucky would take me here because “good food heals the soul”. Or something like that.

“Well, I figured out you didn’t know the address by the lack of appearances you made after you helped me. So I thought I’d bring you back. Now come on, food awaits.” He grabs my hand in his, pulling me through the door of my favorite 50’s diner.

Walking in, I realize how little has changed since the last time I’ve been here. The black and white checkered tiles are still there, including that lone set of two black tiles next to one another. Pink and blue leather still accents the space, and the waitresses still wear Robin’s blue uniforms with hoop skirts. I love it here.

“Hey, Bucky! How you doing darling?”

“I’m good Janet. Table for two?”

“Two? Oh Diana, hey sweetheart. I haven’t seen you in a long long time. ‘m glad you’re back.”

“Hi, Janet. Glad to be back.”

I’m not surprised Janet didn’t see me considering half of me is hidden by standing behind Bucky. He’s a pretty good hiding spot when you’re nervous. I watch Janet take two menus and motion for us to follow her. She stops as a booth in the back, winking at Bucky before heading off to take orders. I’m assuming she’ll be back later.

“M’lady. Your seat.” Bucky bows, holding his hand out towards my side of the booth. I laugh at his ridiculousness, before sliding into the red leather booth.

“You’re suck a dork.”

“Well technically, I’m now your dork. At least a fake one. So, you’re stuck doll face.”

“Unfortunately.” His face drops in feigned hurt and my words, putting a hand on his heart as if I struck him.

“Wow, Di. I’m pained, truly pained by your confession.”

“Deal with it, Charming. That's just how I am." Something sparkles in Bucky's eyes, making me feel slightly anxious

"Charming, huh?"

"Yeah, Charming. Like Prince Charming. Personally, I think you look most like Prince Eric, but Charming is close enough."

"Walker, I'm truly honored. " He smirks, mischief evident on his features. I can see the wheels and gears turning in his head across the table.

"Well, don't get a big head about it James. Or I'll never give you another compliment again. Anyways, I'm gonna head to the bathroom. Be right back."

~~~~

When I walk out the bathroom, I find Bucky still sitting at the table. Phone in hand, tapping away at the screen, and constantly running his hand through his loose waves, he looks quite unapproachable. He's in distress. I don't like when Bucky is stressed. He becomes irritable, snappy, and hard to be around. So I tread lightly towards our table.

"Hey Buck, you alright?"

He doesn't answer for a few moments, lost in whatever is happening on his phone.

"Bucky?". Still nothing.

"James?." His head perks up this time, eyebrows furrowed with a frown etched into his features.

"Yeah, doll face?" I chuckle before sliding into the booth.

"So you answer to that, but not the name you normally go by?" His eyes flicker back to his phone, typing away again.

"Well, you normally call me James anyways and it doesn't seem like you're gonna stop anytime soon. So I'm not used to hearing you use Bucky." He continues to type away, barely paying attention my presence. I don't like when people text while talking to me, so I snatch the phone away. He begins to protest, but looking at the harsh glare I'm sporting causes him to stay quiet.

"Who's texting you anyways?"

"No one." I sigh, annoyed with his lack of honesty.

"Bucky if we're gonna do this, you have to be honest with me. I haven't lied to you yet, so don't lie to me." By his lack of argument, I presume his believes I'm right.

"Fine, it's Steve. Happy now?"

"Steve? Why's he texting you? I thought you weren't friends." I motion to his phone password, silently asking if I can open it and he nods. Still haven't changed the password I see.

"We're not. But it seems that a little birdie told him about you and I, so now he won't stop blowing up my phone and asking me questions. I thought he blocked me to be honest."

"Do you mind if I look at the texts? Or is that something you want to keep private?"

"No, go ahead. I trust you." I grin at his words. Aw, he trusts me. I'm so gonna make fun of him for this later.

"Uh uh. Diana, I see that twinkle in your eyes. Don't get a big head about it."

"Too late, bubs. I've already got one. You trust me, how cute." I reach over and squish his cheeks, causing him to slap my hands away in agitation.

Okay, the texts.

Buck, you're dating Diana?!? Wtf since when?

Why does it matter?

It doesn't, I'm just asking.

Don't you have a gf Steve? Why ARE you asking?

Shut up, she’s one of my closest friends. I need to protect her from bad people.

And I'm bad people huh? You're not her fucking dad. Lay off.

I'm just being a good friend.

Sure you are.

I was not expecting this in the slightest.

"Buck, Steve sounds..."

"Jealous?"

"What! No, not jealous. You sound dumb. Why would he be jealous, he has Nat."

Bucky doesn't answer, just smiles at me and shakes his head. I give him a questioning look.

"Are you really this clueless about relationships and love?"

Ouch. Stab me in the heart while you're at it.

"I am not clueless. I've just never been in a relationship before. Is that such a bad thing?"

"You've never been in a relationship before? You? Don't lie to me Angel. "

"What? I'm not lying." He stares at me, eyes demonstrating distrust.

"Alright, why?"

"No one's ever liked me like that." Bucky looks at me like I'm a complete moron and snorts.

"Yeah, right." He's confusing me.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, y/n. Absolutely nothing."

"Well at least I wasn't fawning over a girl for multiple years and didn't have the guts to ask her out. Hm?"

"You're one talk. Steve?"

"I do not have a crush on Steve."

"Right, of course you don't. It's not like you asked a random guy to pretend to be your boyfriend so he doesn't think you like him. And the only reason that it would matter that he thinks so is if you actually did have a crush on him." I could break his neck right now if I wanted to. I really could.

"You're full of shit Barnes. Complete and utter shit. And you're not a random guy either."

"I mean if you think so darlin', so be it." He smirks like he knows something I don't and it make me feel queasy.

"So, what are we gonna do about S--"

"A burger with fries and a patty melt combo with two vanilla Root Beers?"

I'm cut off by Janet arriving at our booth, a tray of food in her hands. I didn't even order. My eyes flicker over to Bucky in confusion and he grins.

"Thanks, Janet. We'll call you back later for dessert, yeah?"

"No problem, sugar plum." Bucky takes the plates from her, divvying up the items to their respective sides.

I look at Bucky with confusion written all over my face, watching him dig into his burger and pay me no mind. I didn't even order. How could he-- he remembered my order. From six months ago, he remembered by order. I check the sandwich to be sure. Cooked onions, pepper jack cheese, no pickles on the side. It's all there.

"You remembered my order." His eyes move up from his sandwich and he looks at me like I didn't just say something spectacular.

"Yeah, so? It's not a big deal, Diana. Don’t make it one. Now as you were saying, how are we gonna take Steve down and get him to believe this?"

It's Not Real tag list:

@vicmc624

#fakeboyfriend!bucky #fake relationship #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #romanogers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanov #mcu au #bucky x reader

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chloelucia13 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15: The Mall Rats and the Case of the Missing Lifeguard

Pairing: none for the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x (kinda) Platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: You felt... different. Whatever happened that night in that warehouse had changed you, but you feared telling anyone else about what had occurred. Or maybe... Maybe you couldn't.

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, mostly just going in depth with plot, language, kinda gory, discussions of not having control over your body (flashbacks in italics, separate perspective in bold)

Word Count: 3746

A/N: The series continues! The chapters for season three are gonna get pretty wild, so I hope everyone’s excited to see it! As always, my requests, inbox, and tag lists are open!

Tags: @just-my-fandom, @nightbu-g

“Get the fuck up! We gotta go!”

A harsh cough rattled your lungs as you awoke, blinking quickly to try and clear your vision and orient yourself. “Wh-” you grumbled, scrambling to get on your feet.

A hand grabbed your arm, pulling you to your feet. Your mind quickly caught up with your body and you began to sprint. Behind you, a snarl echoed through the empty warehouse, spurring you further forward and out of the building. “Get in the car!” Billy demanded, and you followed his instructions with no second thought.

As soon as you both had sat down, Billy sped out of the lot and down the long stretch of road. “What the fuck was that?” he shouted, his voice strong despite the clear wooziness that plagued both of you.

It was familiar, that you knew. That presence, it was something that had left a large imprint on you. You thought it was gone. You thought you didn’t have to suffer any longer.

But whatever that thing was, it was more than you had ever seen. It was new, worse than anything you had ever experienced. It scared the shit out of you.

So you only half-lied when you responded, “I don’t know.”

Within moments, Billy screeched to a halt in front of a phone booth. You both stumbled out of the car and tucked yourselves away in the glass box, praying that it would be enough to shelter you from whatever that being was, if only for a few seconds. As you leaned against the wall to try and get a full breath of air int your lungs, Billy held the handset to his ear and dialed 911. From where you stood, you could hear a tinny female voice come through the speaker.

The single light above your head began to flicker, and any hope that you had in your mind that this was something completely foreign flew out the window.

You and Billy exchanged a glance as the light died out, and he hung the handset up before hesitantly pulling the phone box’s door open and stepping out. You followed behind him, footsteps sounding in the distance as you stared out at the open road where the car’s headlights illuminated a path. A thick fog had settled over the air, ashen particles intermingling with the fog and creating an all-too-familiar dread in the pit of your stomach.

As the two of you walked forward, the silhouette of a crowd could be seen through the haze, their footsteps growing closer and closer to you.

“What do you want?” Billy huffed, standing his ground in the middle of the road. You stood beside him, but your fear was evident. “Hey! I said, what do you want!”

“Billy-” you attempted to stop him as a clash of thunder and flash of lightning streaked the red night sky.

“I said, what do you want!”

The crowd froze, and two individuals stepped forward, their features materializing through the fog.

Features you knew as well as your own. Features that were your own.

***

When you finally came to, you were already at the pool. You assumed you had just zoned out this morning, too wrapped up in whatever happened last night to realize what you were even doing.

But that was the thing. You couldn’t remember what happened last night. Sure, you remembered the crash, and that thing, those people. But that was it. Everything else was blank.

You felt different. Like your skin was on fire and your insides were frozen solid. Every light was too bright, every brush of wind felt like you were being whipped, and every sound was far too loud. And you were so thirsty.

These new feelings made working at a pool more miserable than it already was. You tried your hardest to push through it, ignore the pain and just get through the day, but it proved to be much harder than you were anticipating. In order to live through the day without feeling like absolute shit, you had swapped shifts with Heather, allowing you to sit in the air-conditioned office and work at the entrance to the pool.

The day had gone smoothly for the most part, except for the lingering feeling of wrongness that had settled deep into your bones. It was that same feeling that had plagued you when you were stuck in the upside down, a sense fo familiarity in a completely unfamiliar place. But, at the same time, it was like nothing you had ever experienced, like your entire being was just a thought shoved in the brain of a body you didn’t own.

You were about to get up and grab another bottle of water from the fridge when a figure appeared at the front counter. “How many?” you hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes to block out the sunlight.

“Are you okay?” the person responded, and your shoulders slouched at the familiar voice.

“Hey Steve. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

he scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “Just a ‘hey, Steve?’ You didn’t call me last night! I drove over here and you weren’t here but your car was! And now you look like you’re dying and you didn’t even recognize me!” he shouted.

You winced at the volume of his voice, your head pounding. “Sorry, sorry. My car broke last night and I had to get a ride from Billy.”

Steve vividly stiffened. “He didn’t... Do anything, right?”

“No! God no! He- he just dropped me off and I fell asleep and forgot to call you. that’s all.”

“That’s all that happened last night?”

“I said, what do you want?” Billy’s voice roared, nearly matching the intensity of the thunder clapping in the sky.

You stood stock still as the mirror image of you stepped closer and closer until they were toe to toe with you.

Your clone and Billy’s clone spoke simultaneously, a singular bellowing voice echoing out, “To build. I want you to build.”

“To build what?” you snapped, fingers curling into fists.

“What you see.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion and you stepped back.

“I don’t understand,” Billy huffed. With a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning, the figures disappeared, leaving you and Billy alone on the deserted street.

“Billy, we need to go-”

“I don’t understand!” he snarled, spinning in circles and taking in the dramatic change of atmosphere that happened in a split second. “What do you mean? I don’t understand!”

A startled gasp fell from your lips as you snapped out of your memories, eyes wide as you fixed your gaze back on Steve.

“What the hell, Y/N? Are you sure you’re okay?” Steve urged, reaching forward to touch you.

You recoiled, stumbling out of your chair and onto your feet. “I’m fine,” you hissed, winding your jaw tight.

“Y/N, you’re clearly not-”

“Steve!”

He jumped at the tone of your voice.

“I’m fine. Just drop it. I need to work. I’ll call you tonight.”

He mirrored your clenched jaw, but he nodded and walked away without another word.

You collapsed to your knees with a shuddering sigh. You weren’t okay, and you wanted to tell Steve. You wanted to beg for help, for him to take you to a hospital or something. But there was this weird switch in your mind, a defense mechanism of sorts, that turned you into a completely different person. It was like you were possessed.

Your reflection on your current state was cut short, though, when a guttural yell echoed from the showers. You sprung to your feet and rushed over to the showers, only to run into Heather who had heard the same thing. You two shared a look before hurrying over to the only running shower.

However, as soon as Billy’s crumpled form came into view, your body began to move on that same autopilot that it did just moments ago, your mind and being possessed by an entity that you couldn’t hold back. Silently, you stood behind Heather as she called out Billy’s name, hoping to snap him out of his stupor. After a few tries, she was successful in catching his attention.

“Billy, are you hurt?” she asked, lowering to her knees in front of him.

“What?” he gasped, brow furrowed.

“I said, are you hurt?” She let out a huff when he continued to stare. “What’s going on? I heard screaming. Should I call an ambulance?” She glanced back at you, confusion further marring her features when she noticed the rigid-but-dazed state that you were in.

You watched as Billy’s eyes lifted up to yours, and then everything went black.

***

The bumpy road made you dizzy as you stared at the road ahead. The car was completely silent, except for the revving engine and the thunder, of which you couldn’t decipher if it was coming from outside or if it was inside your head.

The car rolled into the familiar gravel lot that sat outside the abandoned building. You and Billy robotically exited the car and as Billy opened the trunk, you began to slowly descend down the metal stairs that fed into the building’s basement. Once you were at the bottom, you sat on the concrete floor and stared into the deep black abyss that laid just feet from where you were.

Billy’s footsteps echoed throughout the building as he walked down the stairs, his figure and the limp body he was carrying coming into view. As he walked past you, nausea settled in the pit of your stomach and you were positive that you were going to vomit, but you couldn’t even move.

He gently laid Heather’s now-alert body on the cold concrete between you and the staring darkness. Her eyes locked with yours, silently begging for mercy, and your eyes began to well with tears along with hers. Billy whispered lowly in her ear before rising to his feet and standing next to you, both of you disturbingly still as a growl echoed through the humid air.

From the darkness emerged a creature created from limbs and blood and gore, its monstrous body crawling towards the sacrifice you had involuntarily placed before it.

Beside you, though, Billy was able to tear his eyes away from the sight, anger radiating off of him. You, however, couldn’t force your body to look away.

***

When Max said that Billy may be doing something weird, Eleven didn’t expect this.

Through the empty expanse of black, a car sat feet away from her. BIlly’s car. The headlights glowed bright into the dark, illuminating the large shatter on the windshield as she walked over to the driver’s side and peered inside.

Soft whimpers reverberated through the empty air as she rounded the back of the car, glancing into the opened trunk before looking up and seeing Billy’s figure knelt on the ground.

“I found him,” El announced.

“What’s he doing?” Max inquired.

“I don’t know. He’s... on the floor... talking to someone.”

Billy’s voice mingled with the harsh whimpers from a disembodied voice as Eleven walked closer, anxiety gnawing at her lungs as she struggled to gasp in a breath.

As she walked, she nearly stumbled over another figure that sat on the floor, a few feet away from Billy.

“Y/N,” Eleven breathed.

“Y/N?” Max nearly shouted, and Eleven imagined that her eyebrows had shot up to her hairline. “What is he doing to her?”

“Nothing, she’s just... sitting there.” Eleven knelt in front of you, examining your face. “She’s crying.”

Just as she was about to reach out and touch you, Billy rose to his feet, startling her attention back to him.

And he looked at her. He saw her.

With his eyes locked on hers, her heartbeat jumped to her throat. There was something off lurking behind his eyes, something disturbed. But as soon as she saw him, he was gone, evaporating into nothingness.

She gasped in terror and ripped the blindfold from her eyes, light flooding her vision as blood dripped from her nose.

“What is it? What happened?” Max urged, reaching forward and touching Eleven’s arm in an attempt to ground her back into reality.

***

By the time that you had left the Hargrove/Mayfield residence, exhaustion had settled deep into your bones. Silently, you trudged along the broken road that winded from Billy’s house to yours and reflected on everything that had taken place in the last eight hours.

You felt... disgusting. Monstrous.

You couldn’t remember much of it, but what you do remember made you ponder who you really were. Were you actually you? Did you truly do those heinous things? Or were you just a pawn, a puppet forced to orchestrate these terrible acts to appease these beings?

You were so deeply entrenched in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice the pair of girls walked towards you.

“Y/N?” Max voiced, startling you.

“Max! El! Hey! What are you guys doing over here?” you hummed, smacking a smile onto your face and acting like nothing was wrong.

The two girls exchanged a look. “We were, uh, walking to my house. What are you doing?”

You nodded, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, I was just taking a walk. Needed to stretch my legs.”

“Right.”

“Right.” You pursed your lips and looked over to El who was staring at you with a strange look. “Well I should probably get going. It looks like it’s gonna start raining soon. You guys stay safe, okay?”

They both nodded, but their demeanors were unusual. They were usually so comfortable around you, and it made you worry that you had done something to them that you couldn’t remember.

“Bye, Y/N,” El spoke finally, nodding at you before Max grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away.

***

With adrenaline coursing through their veins from what they found hidden under the bathroom sink, the two girls rushed to the heart of town to dig further.

As they exited the pool house, they noticed Jonathan and Nancy leaving the Hawkins Post. They ran over to the other pair, calling their names.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Nancy asked the girls, her brows furrowed in confusion from their panicked states.

“Have either of you talked to Y/N recently?” Max inquired, leading the group under a large awning attached to one of the shops on the block to escape from the rain.

Nancy and Jonathan both shook their head.

“Why? Is something wrong?” Jonathan spoke up.

“She didn’t show up to work today. Neither did Heather or Billy,” max explained.

“She probably didn’t feel good and she stayed home,” Nancy tried to reason, giving the girls a reassuring smile. “Besides, I doubt Billy and heather skipping work has anything to do with Y/N.”

Eleven vehemently shook her head. “She was with Billy,” she argued, anxiety evident in her voice.

That made Jonathan and Nancy exchange a look between each other before looking back at the girls. “What do you mean?” Nancy urged.

“Last night, we were messing with El’s powers and we decided to spy on Billy. We thought it was gonna be a bad idea, but we weren’t expecting...” Max trailed off, searching for the words. “El saw Y/N with Billy. She was sitting behind him, and she was crying, and he was talking to someone.”

“And this morning,” El broke in. “She was walking from Billy’s house.”

Max nodded. “We looked around and we found a whole bunch of lifeguard stuff hidden under the sink. We don’t know if it’s Y/N’s or someone else’s but-”

“It was bloody.”

The same panic that the girls felt began to invade Nancy and Jonathan’s systems, their hearts palpitating and their breathing becoming ragged. “Oh my god,” Nancy breathed out finally.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Jonathan spoke, shaking his head. “Maybe we’re just reading into it too much. I’ll call her tonight and check in on her. It’ll be okay.”

The girls nodded, but that anxiety still lingered in the air. They hadn’t even mentioned what El had seen in the showers at the pool, but they thought that it wasn’t dire at the moment.

“Do you guys need a ride home?” Nancy asked, breaking the silence.

“No, we still need to do something,” Max stated vaguely before the two girls pulled their hoods over their heads and ran through the rain over to their bikes.

***

The rain was pouring outside as you tucked your hair behind your ear, a blank look on your face. In the dining room, Heather’s parents chatted idly with Billy while you and Heather meandered dazedly around the kitchen.

Some sort of bell or signal appeared to go off in your mind, as you slapped a smile on your face and made your way into the dining room, sitting in the chair besides Billy and joined in on the senseless chatter.

After a few moments, the chat fell silent, and you and Billy lifted your gaze to see Max and Eleven standing in the doorway of the dining room. You noticed both girls were taken aback by your presence, reeling for a moment.

“Max,” Billy stated plainly.

“We didn’t mean to... Barge in,” Max began to explain, finally finding her voice. “We tried to knock but maybe you didn’t hear us over the storm.”

“I’m sorry, but who is this dripping all over my living room right now?” Heather’s father spoke up, shifting to look at the two girls.

You and Billy both chuckled, exchanging a glance before you subtly gestured for him to introduce them. “I’m sorry,” Billy hummed. Janet, Tom, this... Is my sister, Maxine.”

“And her friend, El,” you added, following Billy as he stood up and walked over to the two girls.

“What on earth are you doing here?” he grumbled. “Is something wrong?”

“We just wanted to make sure everything is okay,” Max explained, quickly glancing over at you before returning her gaze to Billy.

“Okay? Why wouldn’t it be okay?” you spoke, looking between the two girls.

Max looked at you incredulously, as if that was a rhetorical question, before Eleven spoke up: “Where is she?”

“I’m sorry, where is who?” Billy hummed, a playful tone in his voice.

“Well, they’re a little burnt, I’m sorry-” Heather rambled as she brought a tray of cookies into the dining room, pausing when she saw the small group gathered between the living room and the dining room.

“Heather! This is my sister, Maxine! And I’m sorry, I did not quite catch your name...”

“El,” El stated plainly, fire in her eyes.

“El.”

“Now, what is it you were saying, El? You were looking for somebody?” you said sweetly, giving her a smile.

El’s brows furrowed confusedly as she looked over at Heather, stutters falling from her lips. I-I saw- I saw you-” El tried to formulate.

“Your manager,” Max cut in. “At the pool. He said you guys didn’t come into work today, so we got worried.”

“Heather wasn’t feeling so hot today, so we all thought we’d take the day off to nurse her back to health,” Billy explained, smiling at you and Heather. “But you’re feeling just fine right now, aren't you, Heather?”

“I’m feeling so much better,” Heather agreed, shaking her head emphatically. As Billy turned back to the girls, Heather offered the two girls a cookie. “They’re fresh out of the oven.”

“No, no, we should get going,” Max voiced, gripping onto El’s sleeve and giving you one last worried look. “Let’s go.”

“Billy, do you mind walking them out?” you asked, smiling at the two girls.

“Of course,” Billy nodded, walking behind the two girls as you made your way back to the table.

“Well, they’re quite lovely,” Janet noted. “So nice of them to check on you two, even if they dragged some mud in doing so.”

“They truly are the sweetest,” you agreed. “Sorry about all of that, though.”

As Heather’s mother began to go off on a tangent, a sharp pain began to course through your skull. Suddenly, visions of El sealing the gate closed flashed before your eyes, her screams piercing your ears. You gripped onto the table and watched black veins creep up your arms between flashes of the burning orange gate slowly web closed. It left as soon as it came though, though the veins still lingered on your skin and a heavy fog clouded your mind, inhibiting your thoughts.

The creature took over your mind, taking advantage of the fog to make you act as if nothing was wrong. You watched Billy walk into the room and sit beside you, him seemingly in that same daze.

“Is everything alright?” Heather questioned, brows knitted in concern.

“Yes,” Billy stated simply, and you took note of the black veins that snaked in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Everything’s fine.”

“Your sister really didn’t want to stay?” Janet asked, mirroring her daughter’s concern.

“No, she’s just not... you know, really a people person.”

“Well, I just don't like the idea of them out there in the storm like that.”

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Tom huffed, clearly wanting to end the conversation.

Janet nodded hesitantly and reached for her wine, only for her hand to graze the glass and knock it over. “Oh!” she exclaimed, grabbing a cloth napkin and beginning to dab up the spilled liquid.

“I told you to slow down on that wine, Janet,” Tom grumbled, shoving another forkful of food into his mouth.

“Yes, darling.”

“Are you okay, mommy?” Heather asked, her brows furrowed once more.

“Yes, I’m- I’m just... Feeling a little lightheaded is all.”

As Tom made another comment about the wine, you and Heather and Billy exchanged a look, all of the emotion gone from your faces. Out of your peripheral, you watched as Heather’s mother rose from her seat, only for her to collapse to the ground.

Heather’s father shot to his feet to help his wife, all the while you three gripped your weapons in your hands. You handed Billy a bottle of chloroform and as he wet his cloth napkin with it, Heather carried her wine bottle into the living room. Silently, you both followed behind her and watched as she swung the bottle into her father’s skull. Billy handed her the napkin a moment later, and Heather quickly finished off the remaining half of her parents.

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officerjennie · 3 years

Text

Commission for the ever so lovely @bouncyirwin - who spreads joy, happiness, and support as freely and easily as some people breathe (this fandom wouldn’t be the same without you 💜💜💜💜💜)

---

How anyone could so much as breathe without adoration hitching their efforts around her, Shisui really didn’t know.

This wasn’t even the first time this week he’d found himself staring in awe without a word able to escape him. Sakura had a way of making him dumb to the quick wit and playful flirting that usually came as natural as most any other social interaction to him - he’d always been the social butterfly of his clan, berated for it at times and having his hair fondly tousled at others. And yet here he sat, in the corner of the little restaurant Sakura and her team and her team’s families had all crowded into, unable to absorb any of the chatter or whatever joke had Kakashi snickering behind his book or even what had Naruto and the brat arguing this time.

Sakura seemed content enough to sit back and soak it all in as well, pride in the soft smile that graced her lips, a cup of tea cradled in her hand near her chest in lieu of the spirit that many of her companions had chosen to partake in this evening. And who could blame them? Rare was the day any shinobi party could come back unscathed along with their success, and given the tentative peace between Konoha and Kiri could have been destroyed at the smallest misstep their celebration came with relief felt by the entire village.

It warmed him to no end to see her so content and sure, so proud, none of the hesitance that used to haunt her expressions and tense her body anywhere to be found - the kunoichi that had chased and chased after her teammates had long since caught up and surpassed them in so many ways, and even without being privy to the intimate details of her internal battles Shisui could feel emotion trying to choke him.

Gods, but he had it bad, didn’t he? He forced some of his own tea down, looking away from the woman who had no idea she held his heart so tightly in her grip, scrubbing his face with his free hand in an attempt to clear his head. Admiration was one thing - very understandable in this case, given Sakura set the precedent for strong and capable shinobi who could punch a ravine into existence - but they could hardly even be called friends if he was honest with himself. So openly staring at her with his heart in his eyes could definitely count as creepy.

Maybe he needed more hobbies.

“Not really like you to hang out on the sidelines.”

It was a bit embarrassing to be snuck up on like that. He hoped his surprise wasn’t too obvious as he peeked through his hands, finding the woman who’d been occupying his thoughts all night now occupying the seat next to him. Up so close he could see her cheeks were dusted pink, though he couldn’t really tell if it was the chill from the night air or just some blush she’d painted on.

Either way. It didn’t really matter which one it was. All Shisui could really do with the information is filing it under “she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met” and keep the simple image of her tucking some pink hair behind her ear firmly in his mind’s eye for the rest of his days.

“Not a place I’d expect to find you either.” She blinked at his words as if confused, pursing her lips even, so despite how obvious it seemed to him Shisui clarified, “You more the frontline type, right?”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t really care for ‘supporting others’ to mean ‘being left behind.’ But today,” Sakura turned just enough to look over at her teammates, Shisui following her gaze to see Naruto gesturing wildly in horror at something that had Sasuke snickering unashamedly. “Today, I think I’m alright with not being in the middle of them. There are some conversations I’d rather they have without me.”

“What even has them going, anyway?”

“Relationships,” Sakura said, a little too quickly. But she didn’t let the awkwardness stay, her eyes flicking down to her tea which she held between her hands as if her fingers might be cold. Shisui wished he could warm them between his own. “Well, not exactly relationships. More like things people do in them. They seem to find it amusing to list all the people they’ve managed to kiss or make out with.”

With a snort, Shisui said, “I’m guessing they’re both at the top of each other’s lists then?”

He was very glad to see the tiny bit of tension relax right away from Sakura as she laughed, her eyes alight with mirth. “Somehow, they always seem to forget to mention that.”

“Bet you love to remind them.”

“Bet I do.” She flashed him a smile that had his ears heating up, and for the life of him Shisui could not say why it made him feel bold.

Despite how calm people saw him, despite his rather laid back nature, Shisui often found himself tongue tied where feelings were involved. But past his beating heart he somehow managed to not make a fool of himself, his nerves not overwhelming him - perhaps it was simply how welcomed he felt in her presence? How inviting and warm she was even as all she did was sip her tea, simply existing but existing there, next to him, when any number of seats were available next to those she was far closer to. And didn’t that make him feel lucky.

“Do you have a list?”

The gods only knew how he managed to make that sound casual. Even when Sakura’s eyes widened and blinked up at him (he swore his favorite color used to be blue but damn if that shade of green wasn’t going to change that) - and for a terrifying moment he remembered just how easily this woman could demolish any wall that stood in her way. With her fist.

Even if that wall was made with solid concrete, or was, say, a whole ass mountain. He was pretty sure he wasn’t anywhere near as solid as a mountain.

When she chose to not punch him, every single last bone in his body heaved a sigh of thankfully unbroken relief. “No, I...don’t have a list.”

No list? That was a little surprising. “A name, then?” Maybe not the best thing to ask someone, at least not before he was sure she would be comfortable with answering. Shisui was quick to add “Unless it’s a secret or something” - the last thing he needed was to drive her away by pushing into her own personal life.

Though, then again - and something in Shisui rose up in slight saddened panic at the thought - what would he do if she did have a name? A significant other? Itachi was out on another of his long missions, who exactly was he supposed to lean on and eat comfort chocolate with if it turned out his growing crush was, well...crushed, before anything could come of it?

“No. No name.”

It took physical effort to not sag with some sort of relief at her words, but it wasn’t a relief that Shisui had much time to process. Because as much as he wanted a chance with the woman of his dreams, as much as he had wanted to hear that...

“Eh? Really? You?” Shisui found it beyond the realms of possibility that Sakura, of all the people in Konoha, had yet to have her first kiss, and that shock was perhaps a bit too loud in his tone.

Definitely not good for his health and wellbeing. The nerve on Sakura’s forehead was suddenly twitching, and the sharp look she sent his way had him gulping.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, no! No no, nothing- I didn’t mean like that!” He shook his head a little more than necessary, horror dawning on him as he realized his unintentional insinuation. “I just meant- you’re just, well, beautiful! Beautiful and an exceptional shinobi, a damn good medic, and from what Sasuke’s told me in confidence you make a mean blueberry tart. Not to mention you could punch through steel if it offended you.” By some grace of the gods he managed to bit off his rambling there, scratching nervously at the back of his head, almost mumbling as he ended his poor excuse of an explanation with, “I just expected, you know… You might have kissed at least one of the people who admired you.”

The moments of quiet after his words were probably the most terrifying seconds of his life, though by some mercy Sakura did not seem angry. Maybe his apology/explanation was acceptable after all and he wouldn’t have to-

Sakura said something under her breath, and Shisui blinked back out of his thoughts, frowning a little in confusion. “What?”

“It’s just that I…” Her bottom lip caught between her teeth for a moment, drawing Shisui’s eyes. “I’ve never really had an appealing offer. You know?”

Had she always been sitting that close to him? Their thighs were touching and Shisui couldn’t remember when that had happened, but his pulse picked up, the whole of him keenly aware of every inch of her.

And how bad would it be, really, to be buried in the ground by those deceptively slender fingers?

“Would I,” Shisui started, with a smooth tone that belied how his heart beat frantically in his chest, “qualify as an appealing offer?”

A breath. Two. Sakura’s gaze flickered down to his lips as hers parted the barest bit - and even before she nodded Shisui knew her answer - though he knew not how he'd been so lucky as to get a yes.

Her hair was soft under his fingers as he cupped the back of her head, her pupils wide as she tilted her chin to look up at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that they were not alone, their friends and coworkers laughing and drinking and chattering away not even half a small restaurant away from them, but all of him preferred to focus on Sakura’s hand now coming to rest on his arm, the way she shifted forward as he leaned closer, how intimate it felt to brush their noses together, her breath tickling his lips.

And then their lips met, and the rest of the world fell away.

#shisaku #shisui #sakura #fanfiction #mywriting #commission #thank you!!#I'm sorry it took a while to write T^T #fluff #some humor #also on ao3 #link in the source!

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kurosara · 3 years

Text

Hongjoong x Reader

I didn’t proofread this or anything. I just wrote some middle of the night comfort I needed.

Angst, sad

I felt my spine unconsciously shiver as yet another cool breeze fluttered heavily past me. A quick glance at my phone told me it was nearing 3 in the morning. The dim light of the screen faded, as my eyes cast back to the bare sky. It was a new moon tonight, and there weren’t many stars out either. There wasn’t anything interesting in the chilly fall weather, unless you counted the never slowing raindrops falling down my cheeks.

Why was I even crying again?

I couldn’t remember. I’d been crying that long. It hadn’t felt like it, but I’ve been sitting on the balcony of my bedroom, suffering in the chilled air, for nearly 6 hours. How long could such an overwhelming feeling last?

An eternity…

A cynical voice taunted me further with evasive thoughts similar to this. It’s dark, and lonely. I’ve whispered curses and wishes to no one. I’ve replied to… no one. Because all I could wonder was if anyone was really listening. The neatly decorated interior, fit with (f/c) furniture and various art pieces and large photos of me and my boyfriend hanging on the wall, felt eerily cruel the moment I walked in. The fleeting thought of my boyfriend stuck for a moment, like the breath hitching in my throat as I visualized his soft smile, a bit of nervousness from smiling at me for the very first time. The happy thought turned sour, the smile fading into a blank stare.

“I’ll be home late…”

The image dissipated with his words. I could barely taste the remnants of the ramen bowl I’d forced down before coming out onto the balcony. The taste was bitter and dry as I forcefully swallowed the growing lump of anxiety. My fingernails, or rather the remaining nubs since I’d chewed off all my nails earlier, felt sticky as they scratched nervously at the cold concrete I was sitting on. I could only assume it was blood from the scraping contact. The balcony’s railing taunted me similar to bars of a jail cell. But at least in prison there are other people.

But here? In this dark and lonely space I created for myself? There is no one. I’ve self-isolated. And every attempt to escape has never been followed through. If I unlocked my phone you’d see the contact pulled up where I’ve nearly called him. And before that a lengthy text that boiled down to one thing; I need you. The text was never sent of course. However, even now as I describe these feelings and sensations, I don’t feel them. They aren’t processed in my mind or my physical body. I simply sat in the corner of the balcony, knees pulled to my chest, staring into pure dark, as my body and the world continued past my racing thoughts of how this is where I should be.

I deserved to be alone.

Keys jingled in the background and it was painfully obvious the individual tried being quiet, but it wouldn’t matter. He could’ve kicked the door in screaming, and I wouldn’t budge an inch.

Hongjoong removed his shoes and hung up his coat on the nearby rack. His bag made a soft sound as he tried to gently slide it onto the couch, hoping his partner was sleeping peacefully, and trying not to disturb that. As he typically did when he ended up home this late, he trekked to the kitchen for a bottle of water to carry to bed. As he exited the kitchen, a cold breeze caught his attention.

Where’s that coming from?

Just like Hongjoong. He knew how much I hated being the slightest bit cold, so the house was always a warm temperature. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he gazed around the empty living room, noticing the cracked balcony door. Cautiously, he approached the door, peering out just the slightest bit and hoping there was no intruder lurking around.

Though he’d really hoped for that to be the case right now versus the sight he was met with.

His eyes barely made out my trembling figure in the corner, huddled against the wall. Immediately Hongjoong turned on the outdoor light and rushed to my side, carefully kneeling beside me.

“Y-y/n?” The worry was so thick in his voice, yet sweet. Like honey.

There he was. My boyfriend. Acknowledging my presence as he always does, yet I hadn’t heard a word. There was no light, though he very clearly turned one on. For a moment Hongjoong panicked. His eyes worriedly scanned my body, searching for any signs of hurt or reason for my being like this. He saw the bloody fingers and the tears still flowing. He knew what was happening, for sadly he’d seen it too many times even before they were dating. At least more times than I’d like. By now though, Hongjoong knew almost how to help. He adjusted his position to sit in front of me, his knees pulled up like mine. He touched his knees to mine, gently pulling my hands from the concrete as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs.

I felt the tingling of sensation from the touch, still all I saw was a never ending tunnel of darkness. Hongjoong brought my knuckles to his lips, placing gentle kisses on them before resting them onto our knees. His thumbs didn’t stop caressing the top of my hands as he simply stared into my eyes and mustered the kindest smile he could as he looked at my broken state.

“I know you probably won’t process what I’m saying right now, and that’s alright. Just focus on my voice ok?” He took a shaky breath, feeling his own tears well up, “You’ve been having a hard time lately haven’t you? I know you’ve been eating well and everything because I’ve seen it, but that doesn’t mean you’re alright. And it’s ok to not be ok. It’s not your fault.”

There was a flicker of light, like a shooting star passing across my vision. I swallowed another lump, feeling a bit of warmth from the original tingling sensation.

Hongjoong squeezed my hands, trying to urge warmth into your shivering body. Just the thought of how long you could’ve been freezing made him sick to his stomach. Nonetheless he continued to talk as calmly as he could.

“Just remember that there is someone here for you. I know you don’t always believe that, but it’s true. I am here. Right here.” A single tear rolled down his cheek unwillingly. “I’ll help you pick up the pieces you feel are broken and hold them together for you. I’ll be here to hold you steady when you’re shaking and keep you warm when you’re cold. I’m sorry I was late this time. There’s no telling how long you’ve been here.” Another tear. “But I’m here now baby. I love you.” He squeezed my hands gently once more.

Like a thread, his words formed a silver lining in the dark tunnel. My vision corrupted from pure black, to blurry shapes and images. The feeling of being frozen to my core was slowly warming in the places where his body touched mine. And finally, his beautiful, kind smile. So bright, and such a contrast to the dark space I’d been suffering in. There was a soft ringing that slowly got louder, as I realized his lips were moving. Hongjoong was speaking, yet I could only hear the ringing. Hongjoong saw the way my eyes scanned his face just the smallest bit. His smile grew a bit.

“There you are. It’s ok. Take your time.” He leaned forward, never breaking eye contact as he kissed the back of my hands lovingly.

I squeezed his hands gently, the feeling, or void of feeling, was quickly fading, and in its place a crushing weight on my throat and lungs. My chest heaved at my increased breathing pace, worrying Hongjoong as he realized the anxiety was setting in more than the previous emptiness. Without releasing my hands, he scooted to sit beside me. He let go of one hand to wrap his arm around my shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss on my temple as he whispered sweet nothings.

His voice trickled in like a small river, every other word registering before his kindness fully processed. My beating heart didn’t slow, but it became easier to breathe as I buried my head in the crook of his neck silently. He pulled me closer with one arm, resting his forehead on my hair.

“Do you want to go inside and get under the blankets?” The first full sentence I’d registered in my mind.

I absentmindedly nodded, but before I could attempt to move, Hongjoong was picking me up bridal style, careful like I was an expensive glass or diamond jewelry. Once in our shared bedroom, he placed me on the bed before tossing back the covers and tucking them around me like a child. With a reassuring smile he left the room. Although I knew where he was going, I gripped the covers tightly anxiously waiting for his return.

In a matter of minutes Hongjoong returned with two cups of hot chocolate with small marshmallows, and a pack of hershey’s kisses tucked under his arm too. He set one cup down and offered me the other, which I had to fumble from under the covers to shakily take the cup. The warm liquid felt comforting, with just a splash of caramel the way I loved it. A soft melody played as Hongjoong connected to the bluetooth speaker on the dresser, playing soft instrumentals he had been working on the days prior. Hongjoong climbed into the bed, careful of me and my drink, and opened the chocolates, feeding me one as he grabbed his own drink.

He took the drink gently from me, and pulled a small first aid kit from his pocket, beginning to tend to my wounded fingers. He tried to be as gentle as possible, though I couldn’t stop the involuntary flinching everytime there was direct contact to the broken skin. He continued mumbling soft apologies and comforting words nonetheless. Once he finished wrapping my fingers, he continued with his early motion of serving me my drink and feeding me hershey kisses.

I’m not sure how long we sat like that. Hongjoong rested his head against the headboard, one hand gently playing with strands of my hair, while the other held my own hand. Originally, he had alternated between feeding me chocolates and bringing his now cold drink to his lips. The time on Hongjoong’s phone read 5:52 am. I had long since finished my drink and passed out with my head on his shoulder sometime after 4 I think. Hongjoong hummed softly to the still playing music, like a soothing lullaby. He wanted to make sure I was fully asleep before deciding to move.

Hongjoong gently laid me on the pillow, going to turn off the lamp he’d had on and turning the music down a little more, before crawling back into bed. He cuddled me from behind, his warm chest pressed against my back as he pulled me closer to him in a tight embrace.

“Goodnight my love. Have sweet dreams. When you wake, I’ll be here. I promise. I won’t let you be lonely in the dark if I can help it. I love you. So I hope you use that love as a light. It’s not too late. So don’t give up, ok? We can do this. I love you.”

With a simple kiss to my head, he nuzzled closer, leaving me with floating thoughts.

It’s not too late. I’m not alone.

#hongjoong x reader #fanfic #ateez

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you-did-well-moon · 4 years

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Werewolf!Hongjoong meeting his mate

Type: werewolf au, all heart melting fluff

Pairing: Werewolf!Hongjoong x Human!Reader

Word count: 2,005

A/n: My first Ateez post, hello Atiny welcome to my blog!! This wasn’t a request I got here, but I got it from my friend and I’ve been wanting to write a werewolf au for some time now so yayy. You can all thank my lovely Luna for this, and excuse my horrible photoshopping skils. Don’t be afraid to talk to me and enjoy.

Song: Peter Pan - Exo

TW: None

Hongjoong sighed, his feet dragging along the concrete of the sidewalk as his tired form walked sluggishly through the small town. He was exhausted. Being the alpha of seven rowdy and slightly clumsy werewolves was no easy feat. They managed to get in a lot more trouble than the normal amount. Just last week he had to stop Mingi from walking straight into a werewolf hunter camp because Wooyoung bet him nachos he wouldn’t do it.

Hongjoon tiredly exhaled rubbing at his bleary eyes as he made his way to the music store across the street from the quaint little cafe called Light Illusion. After such a long time of coming to the store on a regular basis, the kind old man who owned the store greeted Hongjoong by name asking how he had been with a bright smile, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with laugh lines. Hongjoong responded with a polite smile and a slight bow of his head.

He fixed his hat already feeling some of the weight ease off of his chest as his eyes raked over the variety of CDs and albums lining the store aisles. Music was everything to him, his safe place.A comfort in a hectic and lamentable life. A source of happiness sprouting in the confines of his chest making him forget of the seedlings of suffering on the edges of his mind.

The owner came up to him with sparkling eyes, quivering hand offering him a CD. Hongjoong looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the older man with questioning eyes.

“Classical?” He questioned, doubt evident in his tone. Sure, Hongjoong had listened to right about everything, but he never took himself as a classical kind of guy. He hesitated before taking the case and turning it this way and that, examining it with an uncertain kind of wonder. He was met with a knowing chuckle, “You never know kid, life can hit you in all kinds of unexpected ways. Give it a try, maybe it can end up becoming a nice memory.”

Hongjoong shook his head confused at the slight tilt of the shop owner’s lips before shrugging and digging in his pocket for money, but he was stopped by the old man’s waving of hands. “Don’t worry son, it’s on the house. You don’t look so good, maybe this will cheer you up. Hey, why don’t you treat yourself some? The cafe across the street has some pretty sick blueberry muffins.”

Hongjoong sincerely thanked the shop owner, putting the CD case into his pocket carefully making sure it wouldn’t fall out. He exited the shop being met with a fresh breeze, eyes falling on the cafe across the street feeling like it was suddenly easier to breathe. He truly thought he must be crazy as he looked both ways and started crossing the street, one destination in mind. He entered, the calm environment providing him with comfort in a place he has never been before.

The walls were made of murals, bookshelves covering the wall to the far right, and star-shaped lights hanging from the ceiling. Hongjoong studied the menu then made his way to the counter, softly stating his order and paying being told his order would be out shortly and to sit anywhere by an energetic cashier.

A table placed close to the bookshelves against a wall with a star dotted mural, surprisingly not feeling awkward or anxious in such a foreign place. There weren't many people, the few that were present busy typing away in their laptops or reading a book, caught up in both the struggles and luxuries of life.

Hongjoong was bought out of his stupor when the light sound of applause rang around the room. He abruptly sat up in his seat realizing the soft sound of a piano was not coming from the cafe speakers. The hunched figure sat on a piano bench, fingers flexing from the strain of playing for so long didn’t look up at the appreciative clapping, head bent as her hands traveled back to the keys. He felt his skin tingle and heat up as an intense and strange force began pulling him to you feeling as if time itself was slowing down.

You had to stop yourself from glancing around the room when you heard people clapping for you. You were too shy, afraid of messing up if you looked up from the keys. You had played the piano since you were a child, but you stopped when life became too busy for you to keep up with everything. College was expensive, and when the cafe a few blocks from your campus offered a job for a pianist, you took it.

Even after weeks playing in the same cafe,you were still too bashful to look at the faces of your audience. A stare was directed at you making a searing heat erupt in the back of your neck, and you tried distracting yourself by looking at the request sheet where people wrote down the songs they would like you to play. A gentle smile tugged at your lips when you saw the next song was a love song.

You cleared your throat taking a sip of water, and you brought your shaky hands back to the keys playing the starting notes. Your fingers pressed gently on the smooth expanse of the keys as you still did not lift your gaze, nervous of who was looking at you in such a focused manner to be able to send shivers down the length of your spine.

You felt the odd urge to look up, but you held firm keeping your eyes solely on the black and white keys of the piano.

A soft smile tugged at your lips at the sweet lyrics, and because you got distracted by the lovely words, you gave in to the temptation of looking up.

“The one person who made my heart pound. As soon as I felt you, my eyes shone”

A powerful and strong wave of shock coursed through you as you met a pair of wide warm eyes holding the same amount of surprise as you. Even when you made eye contact and his shone in a golden hue, you couldn’t look away while you continued singing the love song. You weren’t scared, if anything, you felt safe.

Hongjoong almost fell out of his chair when you looked up instantly meeting his eyes. He felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of him having to press his lips tightly together to stop the whine surging up his chest from spilling out his trembling lips.

His knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the table having to control himself from standing up and plopping himself next to you on the small piano bench. He had always been a bit hesitant about mates. He was an alpha, and had so much to do on a daily basis.

But that all flew out the window when he saw you, your pretty lips quirked up in a small delicate smile that made his heart pound with words of adoration ringing around the small room as you didn’t look away. Your soft beautiful eyes captivating him in the most intoxicating manner. Hongjoong found himself not being able to focus on anything but you in the moment, and even if his duty as an alpha weighed down on him, he knew he would be okay if he had you by his side.

The last notes of the song broke you out of your trance, making you look down as your pinky bent down to pressing on the key with the last note traveling through the room. The customers momentarily breaking away from what they were doing to elapse into a soft round of applause that made your shoulders shrug up bashfully. Your eyes flickered to the clock realizing it was time for your break as you flexed your fingers licking your lower lip and scrunching your nose at the dry feeling. You were further assured of your break as Irene’s small hands placed a muffin with a coffee on the little table you had a foot away to the left of the piano. You smiled up at her thanking her, but she simply raised an eyebrow and winked at you, her eyes flickering behind you before she left with a snicker.

You were confused at her weirder than normal behavior only for your heart to lurch in your chest when you felt a presence behind you. Whirling around you were met with the boy you had made intense eye contact with while playing the last game, except there was no gold in the warm brown that colored his irises. Far away he had been beautiful, and up close he was just as breathtaking.

A kind face that ended in a sharp rounded chin with a cute rounded nose, and soft strands of silver hair peeking out from the beret adorning his head. The corners of his lips were slightly tilted up in a nervous smile, twitching as if wanting to break out in a bigger smile. His eyes an odd but endearing combination of authority and playfulness. Even being strangers, you felt an undeniable attraction towards him.

If you thought he was breathtaking, Hongjoong felt like he literally couldn’t breathe right now being this close to you. Even your chapped lips and tired eyes couldn’t do anything in his conclusion that you were absolutely gorgeous. He had never had to control himself to his extent, not when his pack endlessly got on his nerves, right now his hands were itching to reach out and feel you. His wolf racking up a storm making it all the more hard to control himself.

He laughed nervously, shaking his head. “May i sit here?”

You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face at the high pitched but calming voice that was his. You don’t know what made you abandon your usual shy demeanor scooting over on the small bench to make space with him. “Go ahead, I don’t mind”.

Hongjoong shakily exhaled trying to calm the heat in his face at the sound of your voice, and the feeling of your thighs pressed together. Any worries that had been weighing down at him were forgotten at the comforting scent of your strawberry shampoo.

He turned towards you offering his hand in greeting, “I’m sorry for coming up to you so suddenly and not even introducing myself, I just had to tell you good you are with the piano. I’m Hongjoong '' You giggled quick to wave his worries away by taking his hand, his wolf practically howling in joy at the grin on your face in response to his well-deserved praise.

“It’s alright, but it’s really just a way of making money” You tried shaking off his compliment, and he was having none of it playfully scoffing. He gently bumped his shoulder against yours heart aching when he had to let go of your hand, so he didn’t make you uncomfortable.

“You have to be kidding, you’re a natural” You bumped his shoulder back eyes twinkling with mischievously, “You flatter me too much, I might actually just join the orchestra”

His chest filled with warmth at the playful banter between you, heart practically jumping up his throat when you gasped and took a hold of his arm. “Is that Piazzolla: Libertango by Alison Balsom?” His eyes flickered to the case in his pocket taking it out and showing it to you.

“You like it?” You looked at him, eyes crinkling with awe making his smile grow wider.

“Like it? I love it. You my good sir, have amazing taste” You excitedly bounced in your seat brightly smiling at him. Hongjoong tried shaking his head “I d-don't-” He cut himself off at the sight of your shining eyes and big grin making him swallow harshly at the effect you already had on him.

Maybe classical music wasn’t all that bad.

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milkypompon · 4 years

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙 | 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 Zuko x Reader

𝔼𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕒 ℍ𝕠𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕗𝕦 ℍ𝕠𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕟

ℤ𝕦𝕜𝕠 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

< ℙℝ𝔼𝕍𝕀𝕆𝕌𝕊 || ℕ𝔼𝕏𝕋 >

𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 𝕆𝔽 𝕋ℍ𝕀𝕊 𝔹𝕆𝕆𝕂

𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖 | Aang and Y/N are siblings who share powers, but Y/N was hidden from the Four Nation’s eyes to avoid the possibility of their separation. Then, Zuko meets the flamboyant and flirtatious Y/N for the first time at the Western Air Temple where he attempts to join the tight-knit Gaang.

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Do I regret titling this fic “Extra Hot Sifu Hotman”? ABSOLUTELY… Not. Anyways, enjoy part 2 because some people requested for it! (Don’t tell anyone this, but I was gonna write it even if no one wanted it. That’s just the power of a writer.)

In this chapter, we encounter more interactions with Sokka and Y/N! As well as a small slice of Aang and Y/N’s life back in the Southern Air Temple a hundered years ago.

𝔼ℕ𝕁𝕆𝕐

The crescent moon dimly lit each of the rooms at the Western Air Temple. There was nothing special about the bedrooms, Y/N and Aang were used to the minimalistic architecture of their home, so this was nothing new. Only a musty bed pushed along the concrete wall with a blanket that frayed on the edges could be seen.

Despite the thick layer of dust that coated the room, Sokka slept soundly in bed. He faced the wall, arm bent and tucked underneath his head to act as a makeshift pillow. Every so often, a creak of the bed’s wooden frame could be heard from the hallways, as he shifted.

“Sokka… are you sleeping?” Y/N knelt onto their knees and breathed on Sokka’s neck. He was a heavy sleeper, only ever reacting if he was in real danger. His body knew, Y/N knew this too, so they licked their index finger and probed Sokka’s ear.

Sokka squealed like a runt, “Ahh-”

“Shut the fuck up! You’ll wake up the dead Air Nomads,” Y/N hissed and clasped Sokka’s mouth with their hand.

He licked their hand without hesitation.

“Okay, I’m not even gonna act disgusted for myself because you don’t even know where this hand has been,” Y/N quipped, wiping it on his cheek.

“What are you doing here at an UNGODLY HOUR, not to mention, violating and probing my virgin ear,” Sokka spat, but keeping his voice low.

“Oh sorry, that was your first time getting Wet-Willied? Well, I’m honored to be your first, babe,” Y/N rolled their eyes.

Sokka slowly sat up, planting his feet on the ground. He swiveled his neck in circles to relieve it from knots and aches. Patting the spot next to him, Y/N sat on the creaking bed.

“But, seriously, what’s going on?” There was a genuine look of concern in his eyes, one that never failed to cause Y/N to blush slightly. Since the siblings released Aang and Y/N from the iceberg, Sokka and Y/N developed an unusual bond that curated overtime thanks to cheap jokes and being the duo who was the comic-relief of the team.

“Thank goodness it’s nighttime,” Y/N thought to themself shyly.

Y/N craned their neck down, their hands on their lap with thumbs dwindling around. “I… uh, couldn’t sleep? Despite everything going on, shouldn’t I be thankful that we finally have the time to drop dead and shut our eyes?” There was obviously something more, but for now they just needed help to at least take a nap.

Sokka offered them a small smile, “I’ll bet you my boomerang that you’re not the only one who visited a friend in the middle of the night.” He took their hand and together, they walked down the hallway.

Just as Sokka implied, the flickering light of a warm fire danced near the snuggling bodies of Aang and Katara. Toph slept, mouth agape, with her head leaning back against the fluff of Appa. Her hand laid on Momo’s head that rested on her leg. Momo’s ear twitched as the pair neared the almost laughable sight. Even when there were decent bedrooms not too far away, they always managed to sleep like this. But there was one person who preferred to be secluded away from the rest of them…

Sokka released Y/N’s hand and walked towards two sleeping mattresses that sat a few feet apart (which the Gaang probably set up for them). He motioned for them to lay back and take as much shut eye as they could before the sun rose up to another dreadful, anxiety-filled day.

Y/N sauntered and plopped their back onto the mattress with an arm slung over their eyes to cover the bright orange and yellow flames. The fire vaguely reminded them of the new pair of eyes they met just this morning. They couldn’t quite put their finger on it, but there was a deep, hole that one couldn’t simply climb out of if you looked into it for too long.

Was it emptiness? Longing? Regret?

There wasn’t a single person in this fractured family that hadn’t felt those feelings at least once. Y/N sure as hell knew these emotions all too well, maybe even beyond them, but for once they were dumbfounded for what the supposed “evil Prince of the Fire Nation” felt.

Maybe Zuko felt all three?

“Zuko regrets his past doings because he knew he would feel emptiness if he succeeded in capturing the Avatar, well now Avatars… Now he longs for what we have…” Y/N came to a profound realization. They made a mental note to give themself a high five tomorrow morning for using all three words.

It was an unspoken truth that each of them felt empty without the presence of another friend, whether they were wide awake or fast asleep. Y/N too needed the assurance of someone being able to pull them back if they were about to do something heroic, bluntly said, downright stupid.

Decades ago, the monks repeated to Y/N and Aang more than to any of the other Air Nomads to detach oneself from worldly desires and relations, even the familial ones. At night, when Monk Gyatso would visit the siblings he’d dismiss the other monks’ lectures.

He’d whisper, “You two were created by bones of a warrior’s fire, the heart of mother nature, the clear eyes of the ocean.” Monk Gyatso paused and leaned into the faces of the children, “And most importantly… the mind of a reckless Air Nomad!” The three giggled quietly.

A small smile emerged from Y/N’s mouth as they reminisced on their last memory of the siblings’ father-like figure before the pair escaped out of anger as they were threatened to be taken away from him, due to Avatar duties.

𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Thank you for all the positive comments on the last chapter! Please take it easy one me bc this is my first time writing a series, or what I’d like to call, a book! Let me know how I’m doing and how to make the characters feel more lively!!

【ℝ𝔼ℚ𝕌𝔼𝕊𝕋 𝕋𝕆 𝔹𝔼 𝕆ℕ 𝔸 𝕋𝔸𝔾𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 𝕋ℍℝ𝕌 𝕄𝕐 𝕀ℕ𝔹𝕆𝕏】

(If you don’t see yourself, please message me again! I’m sorry, I’m new to the whole fanfic writing + Tumblr stuff hahaha!)

@haylaansmi @lizzyumi @ruinedlies @anime-simp @akariblue @uber-scooter @celamoon @rhodeisland101 @flloooooopppa @mackandcheese24 @samschaoticblogs @ilovespideyyy @kisskissshutmydoor @og-disaster-bi @emogril @vlovers-world @samsmultifandomblogs @plutaars @kinismanditory @shephard17895 @eridanuswave @iguessthefloorislava @a-hopeless-fan @mybnkjj @mahleeyuh @elammd

#zuko x reader #zuko #zuko imagines #sokka x reader #sokka #sokka imagines #atla #atla imagines #avatar #avatar imagines

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miraculousluvbug · 3 years

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WINGLESS | Ch. 6

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: After learning Hawk Moth's identity, Lila inserts herself into Gabriel's inner circle so she can destroy Ladybug-- er, get Ladybug's earrings. Ha-ha-ha. Ha.

Lila toed the cement beneath her as she restlessly awaited the assistant’s arrival. Gabriel had used an earpiece to communicate to her, Lila assumed. But the waiting was painfully awkward. Neither party made any attempt to fill the silence. The absurdity of the situation sat on their chests like an overweight feline unwilling to move.

As the sun dipped out of golden hour, the mansion shrouded the garden in shadow. Lila squinted her eyes to try and make out the details of Adrien’s mother’s statue, but the effort was fruitless. Wouldn’t a billionaire have, like, lamps or something? Maybe he didn’t have lamps because he hardly left the walls of his office.

Lila’s lips twitched into a smirk, but she quickly smothered it.

There was a sudden scuffling of shoes against the garden stones from behind Lila. She observed wordlessly from the corner of her eye as the looming and brooding Gabriel Agreste flew to the assistant’s side at an inhuman speed and held his arms out to support her silently, his fingers never quite making contact with the body he seemed desperate to protect.

Huh. A weakness. Hawk Moth had a weakness.

Lila filed that tidbit away should she need it for later.

“You were quite cryptic over the phone, sir,” the assistant started.

“I suppose I was, Nathalie. What needed to be said was . . . not phone appropriate.”

“Sir?”

Knowing Gabriel was Hawk Moth seemed to have tipped a domino in Lila’s brain. It was like there was a blanket over her eyes and it had been ripped away. On several occasions, a blue-skinned bird lady aided and abetted Hawk Moth. Lila had wondered who would possibly be close enough to the villain to be looped into his plans.

The connection was easy to make.

Lila folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side, looking Nathalie up and down. When she had finagled her way into the Agreste mansion with a despicable limited edition Ladybug figurine, discovering the identities of Paris’s most wanted duo was not only low on her list of possibilities; it was nowhere near the friggin’ list.

But Dio was it the single most delectable turn of events.

“Let me guess. You were Mayura.”

Nathalie, who had been wholly oblivious to Lila’s presence, sucked in a breath, head spinning to meet the eyes of Adrien’s conniving classmate. Nathalie opened her mouth, probably to protest Lila’s statement, but the words died on her tongue. The only sounds came from the crickets chirping into the encroaching night air.

“She knows,” Gabriel explained.

“She . . . she knows?” Nathalie repeated.

Gabriel nodded. Nathalie’s gaze fell to the grass sprouting in between the garden stones. As the trio stood, the occasional butterfly fluttered around Gabriel like they knew they were kindred.

“You don’t need to be worried about . . . What’s the phrase?” Lila rested a finger on her chin. “Ah, right. Me spilling the fagioli. I don’t know the French word.”

“Beans,” Nathalie supplied.

“You know Italian?” he asked. Then softly to himself, “My Emilie knew Italian.”

Nathalie ducked her head at Gabriel’s attention before straightening her posture and jutting out her chin. If Lila hadn’t seen the woman shuffle over to this spot as if she were going to faint any moment, she might have never known there was anything amiss.

“So you . . . what? Want to be an ally?”

“Multilingual and smart,” Lila teased.

Something dark flickered in Nathalie’s eyes. Much darker than Lila would have ever given her credit for. “You’d do better to watch your tone with me, Mademoiselle Rossi.” She spat Lila’s name like one might an unforeseen chunk of raw garlic.

Ah, so this was how Nathalie wanted to play this. Lila’s fingers tingled in anticipation. She was a flexible actress, best known for her improv skills and dedication to her roles. If a performance was what the assistant wanted, then Lila was eager to put on a show.

“Why, Mademoiselle Nathalie--” Lila started, turning her back on the pair.

“Sancoeur.”

Lila rolled her eyes but proceeded to pump her tone full of sickeningly sweet syrup. “Right. Mademoiselle Sancoeur, it would be my pleasure to get the Ladybug Miraculous for Monsieur Agreste.”

“And Chat Noir’s.”

Lila plastered a fake smile on her face and turned on her heel. “Hm?”

Nathalie arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You loathe Ladybug, don’t you, Mademoiselle Rossi?”

“That’s no secret.”

“You want more than to take her Miraculous.”

It wasn’t a question. Lila held eye contact with Nathalie, unflinching. Eventually, she spoke. “I want to humiliate her. Like she humiliated me,” Lila growled. I want to destroy her.

The assistant chose not to expand on this statement, but Lila could tell she sensed a much more sinister motivation. She must have been weighing the pros and cons, her mind running a mile a minute to predict what including Lila might entail. Lila had to agree: she was a wildcard. Her loyalties teetered like a see-saw, ever-changing to suit her needs. She knew this. And Nathalie knew this.

Lila’s eyes bore into Nathalie’s, challenging her to refuse.

“I admit,” Nathalie began after a beat of consideration, removing her tablet from the crook of her arm, “you might make a valuable asset.”

Gabriel, who had been quietly observing the interaction between his assistant and the girl, folded his arms behind his back. “Yes, even now, while I’m untransformed, your contempt for the bug is palpable.”

“She’s a cockroach,” Lila sneered, her lips upturned in a grimace and her hand clenched tightly into a fist.

Lila’s enthusiasm amused Gabriel greatly. His shoulders shook as he chuckled, but the sound was hollow. “That is something we agree on. No matter how many times I pursue her, she manages to outsmart me.”

Lila bit her tongue. She wanted to say It’s easy to outsmart a man whose password is “password,” but she didn’t. She honestly deserved an award for that caliber of commitment.

“While you are very clever, you’ve been playing an elementary partita, Monsieur Agreste.”

Gabriel’s eyes hesitantly shifted to Nathalie.

“Game, match, etcetera,” she clarified. Ironically, a meager little ladybird flitted to Gabriel’s shoulders then. He scrunched his nose at it.

“And though it’s been a rousing game of tag--” Lila paused purposefully as Gabriel, without breaking eye contact, lifted a palm and allowed the dotted beetle to crawl onto his fingers before proceeding to wordlessly pass it to Nathalie. Lila cleared her throat. “I’m here to up the stakes.”

With her mouth set into a thin line, Nathalie bent over and shook her finger until the thing lost its grip and fell to the concrete. In the process, her shirt rode up to reveal a compelling pale scar the length of a thumb running up her side. Lila arched an eyebrow. Nathalie hastily covered it.

“What exactly are you implying, Mademoiselle Rossi?”

Gabriel peered at Lila over the bridge of his nose, daring her to challenge his legacy as Hawk Moth.

But Lila was not an expert manipulator for nothing. She knew how to read people, and, more importantly, she knew how to please them.

She knew how to play them.

“You’re a proper gentleman, Monsieur.”

Flattery. She would begin with flattery.

With one hand, she twirled one of her pigtails. Men and boys alike often found intelligent girls not only intimidating but emasculating. She wasn’t sure if Gabriel would take too kindly to a sixteen year old picking at all the holes in his plans, holding a magnifying glass to his inadequacies.

But she always loved creating fire with glass as a child.

She particularly enjoyed setting unsuspecting ants aflame.

“Getting your hands dirty is beneath you. There’s no doubt your plans are always cunning.”

She nearly gagged at the sound of those words leaving her throat as she slowly approached the designer and his assistant, calculating each step before taking it. No, she really didn’t believe his plans were cunning. It seemed like he akumatized anyone, chucking strategy to the wind. Imbecille.

“Your akumas, they’re always dressed so well--” it took a colossal amount of willpower for Lila not to look away then, a classic sign of lying “--and their powers are always a genius play on words--” double gag “--but unless you’re willing to play in the mud . . .”

Crunch.

The young vixen made a spectacle of rotating her toes back and forth as she squashed the ladybug the duo had so gingerly set on the stone. She relished in the sensation of a dainty beetle beneath her boot, imagining in vivid detail that it was the heroine’s skull instead.

When she lifted her foot, the two adults barely spared a glance at the result. Lila smirked.

“I’m willing to make a mess, sir,” Lila asserted, peering up at Gabriel through her bangs. She twirled and danced on the balls of her feet. “I would be a brilliant addition! I’ve wanted to wipe that smile off Ladybug’s face since I met her.”

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Gabriel’s lips tilted into a smile. He looked . . . almost proud. Lila lapped it up like a woman lost in the desert being given a bottle cap of water.

“Your family is from Italy, Lila?”

Lila tilted her head, confused by the abrupt detour in conversation. “. . . Yes.”

“How would you feel about an impromptu family visit?”

Nathalie’s eyes widened. She whipped her head around to stare down her boss so fast she was nearly overcome by dizziness. “You can’t really want--”

Gabriel held up a hand, instantly silencing his assistant. She searched his eyes for any remnants of humanity. Was there any left? Did it slip through her fingers on her watch? Gabriel couldn’t possibly want-- They were children, for God’s sakes!

But like an avalanche, his mask crumbled, and swept away with it was any morsel of decency.

“I do want, Nathalie. I’ve grown bored of this back-and-forth business with those two meddling infants. They hold onto those Miraculous so firmly, as if they could possibly know, possibly fathom--”

He didn’t finish his statement, closing his eyes and rolling his neck. Lila delighted in Gabriel’s sudden slip of conduct as his shoulders hunched all the way to his ears and he grinded his teeth. She hadn’t pictured him to be capable of such an erupting volcano of emotion. She often wondered if he was capable of emotion at all.

“Hand me the tablet, Nathalie.”

Nathalie gripped the tablet until her fingers turned white, but the resolve she saw in Gabriel loosened her own. Grudgingly, she passed him the device.

“There are some items I’d like you to procure for me, items that I surmise you’ll be quite pleased to have in your arsenal.”

Whatever these items were, they seemed to have Nathalie on the edge of her seat.

It was suddenly imperative that Lila find out what could have ruffled Mayura’s pretty feathers.

“Sir, you won’t be disappointed.”

Gabriel eyed Lila a moment before affirming, “I don’t believe I will.”

The final remnants of the golden hour neglected the garden, blanketing its visitors in a foreboding shadow like it was them and then it was the rest of the world. Perhaps this is why they missed the piercing green eyes surveying the trio scrupulously from a neighboring building.

So jealousy was a green-eyed monster.

No one mentioned it also wore black leather.

-----

I hope you're enjoying my little fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it! 🥰 There's still so much to uncover in this story so buckle up. Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

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