#i’m sure someone has said this before but i can’t stop thinking about it
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you seem optimistic so you think we’re still getting shigaraki back? :( i’m really sad the way hori has handled the izuku tenko plotline as of right now like i just can’t wrap my head around this
I mean, I definitely think it's a possibility. We still don't know exactly what happened to overhaul/decay, and how it may be used in the future. We saw Tenko and Deku touch fists; theoretically there could have been some kind of exchange there, or he could be existing as a vestige in some way.
Then again, (and this is going to piss a lot of people off :')) I kind of... get where Horikoshi is going with it?
BEFORE YOU START BOOING!
I think a lot of the discomfort and hurt from fans comes from the perception that Izuku failed to save Tenko. That, by allowing him to die, the narrative is in fact saying he didn't deserve to be save--that Horikoshi himself doesn't believe Tenko truly deserved it. I have also seen a lot of talk about how it doesn't fit in with the ongoing, overarching themes of the narrative, and (while I'm not saying these people are wrong) I would like to push back on that a little, because I think there is precedence in the story as to why Tenko's death holds up, despite it being terrible.
The culmination of Tenko's arc broaches a crossroad of two major concepts in the story: heroes, and saving, and what both of those ideas mean. And, I think, in Tenko's death, we get and answer to both, and more importantly, an answer to his overall purpose.
What does it mean to save? In BNHA, the concept is a little vague. I've often people ascribe the "total victory" mindset as one of protection, as preventing any tragedy or harm. Through that lens, Tenko's death therefore is an automatic failure--a nonstarter. HE's dead, so he wasn't saved. The end. However, while "saving" might seem like a simple, straight forward concept, I would like to dig a little deeper, because I think what Horikoshi's doing is much more interesting.
Saving (Deku's definition of it, anyway) is a lot closer to freeing than it is to protecting. Which sounds weird, but I'll do my best to explain. I think the two best examples of this particular nuance to his definition are actually in two characters people tend to forget he saved: Shoto and Gentle Criminal.
Because he did save both of them. Not in the really obvious, black-and-white way he saved Eri, no, but he did save them. And both times were... painful, to say the least.
When Deku went after Shoto during the sport's festival, it wasn't, like, nice. He dug his little nerd fingers in where it hurt the worst and dragged out Shoto's biggest fears and insecurities, and then he said GET OVER THEM. Stop letting them control you. Stop letting your father control you. You're your own person, and you get to make your own choices.
He didn't punch Endeavor. He didn't even take pity on Shoto, or say he was sorry. But you know what he did do? Deku cut the leash. AND he damn near killed Shoto (and himself) making sure that Shoto understood that he was free. He gave Shoto back something that he'd been missing, something he was afraid to look in the face; something that Deku picked up, brushed off, and said, "please stop throwing this away, it's important. You're important".
And it works, goddamit.
Gentle is both different and similar. In a similar vein, the way Deku saves Gentle is sort of... not obvious. But I think if you look here:
Gentle isn't a bad person. He's ambitious and a little lax about the law, but he never set out to hurt anybody. But we see over the course of his arc how he gets so tangled up in his own pain and his desperation to be seen that he forgets his own ideals, his own morals. In the face of becoming someone, he loses sight of what matters most to him: just like Deku, Gentle wants to be a hero.
Which, in the end, he is. And Deku's the one who pushes him there.
But what about Tenko? What about the crying child inside him? Why wasn't he saved?
When people talk about child Tenko, they often seem to see him as a symbol of the person that Deku's trying to save. But I think that, just maybe, that's wrong. I think maybe, actually, Deku is trying to save Tenko from that child.
Child Tenko is, in many ways, a symbol of nothing but AFO's power. That is a child stripped of his name, of his original quirk, of his family, of his sense of self. That is a puppet controlled by AFO, without any autonomy of its own. That child is a wound that Tenko cannot escape for as long as AFO still holds any power over him.
That's why this chapter All Might said that maybe Deku did save Tenko, if he no longer saw the child version of him in the vestige realm. Deku did save him. Because Tenko isn't a child anymore, and he isn't AFO's puppet; he's a free man, for the first time in his life.
A free man who chooses to be a hero.
Heroes get talked about a lot in BNHA (duh), but what is the defining quality of a true hero? Someone who wins? Sure. Someone who saves? Yeah, of course. But the actual test of what differentiates a hero from everybody else is their willingness to sacrifice. To give up everything for the greater good. Even if it hurts. Sometimes especially if it hurts. I mean, this has come up a lot through the manga. Deku running in to attack the sludge villain, Mirio giving up his quirk, Eraserhead throwing himself in front of his students, Edgeshot shortening his lifespan to save Bakugo, All Might standing quirkless in front of the greatest evil of his time-- literally the constant refrain from the narrative has been that being willing to sacrifice it all is what makes a hero a hero.
Tenko's final wish from last chapter is gut wrenching, but: he wanted to be a hero for the Villains. The rest of the world can rot for all he cares, but his friends, those disenfranchised, hurt people that everyone else gave up on? Those people who have never been saved, those people who have never been protected... he wants to be their hero. In the face of danger, of certain doom, he is a free man, and he has a choice.
So he makes a sacrifice. His final act is to become a hero. For them.
Cue the sobbing tears.
Additionally, I think it's relevant to point out here how strongly the narrative has advocated for victimhood to be divorced from being a perpetual self-identity. It really emphasizes the power of choosing to rise above your situation and pain to help other people, while also suggesting that your pain does not excuse you from hurting people. You can be a victim and you can be a perpetrator; they are not mutually exclusive. And because of this, after Deku saves Tenko, he does not owe him. He saved Tenko, but he could not keep him alive, and... I don't think that it's about Tenko deserving or not deserving to die. It's just that Tenko had reached a point of no return where his only choices were to die a slave or die free and he broke his shackles. But he was always going to die. Doomed by the narrative, both literally and figuratively. We can argue all day as to what degree of responsibility he holds for his actions as a highly abused, traumatized, often shell of a person. But the point is that at every junction of the story, Tenko (and the story around him) escalated until he was trapped. There wasn't a way out, and it's heartbreaking, and maybe that's the point.
I'm not saying it's fair. I'm certainly not saying you have to like it. But... I don't know. I don't feel like this is some completely out of pocket, off-the-rails end that destroyed all its characters. And who knows! Maybe Tenko will be brought back later. Maybe the epilogue will get progressively worse and I'll hate it. Maybe I'll finally get some sleep and regret writing this at all. I have no idea. Really. But we're all in this together, so these are my thoughts right now :)
#bnha spoilers#bnha 424#shigaraki#like I said I know this will piss a lot of people off who really really don't like tenko dying which is#like if you think I'm being dumb and wrong that's fine you can tell me but at least be nice T-T#I'm sad about tenko too okay
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Not How It's Supposed To Be Pt.3
Goo Gunil
Summary: You wanted to put everything behind you and move on with your life. Gunil had other plans. (non-idol au)
WC:801
Warning:none
part 1 part 2
photo not mine credits to owner.
Gunil lets himself into your place, heading into your living room.
“Sure come in,” you mumbled under your breath. You closed your door then headed over to your living room.
“I said to get out, not disappear,” he says. You sigh and take a seat on your couch, half-hazardly motioning for Gunil to sit too.
“It was clear that you didn’t want me around and I wanted to be done with it too,” you spoke. Gunil sat down beside you.
“Did you mean it when you said that you cared about me?” he questioned. His demeanor seemed softer.
“Is that why you came here?” You avoided answering.
“Just answer me.” He almost sounded desperate.
“I did,” you told him. “Now why are you here?” you asked.
“I wanted to see you,” he tells you.
“Why? Aren’t I the kind of person you hate the most?” you returned.
“You should be. However even with being as mad at you as I was, I couldn’t seem to hate you. Our relationship was built on lies, so it came crashing down when you revealed the truth, yet for some reason seeing you walk out that door hurt more than finding out the truth.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” you apologized. Gunil laughed at your apology.
“Don’t apologize to me. I’ve never received a sincere one before it feels weird,” he says.
“Maybe if you received one you wouldn’t have turned out like this,” you stated. The atmosphere in the room begins to lighten up.
“Maybe if I had someone who cared about me I wouldn’t have turned out like this.” He turns to look at you.
“I was supposed to forget about you. I told the truth to the people I was working with. They got pissed at me. I mean I understand, but it still doesn’t feel great, but that was supposed to be the end of this mess. I was going to move on with my life and act like none of this ever happened.”
“You can’t forget about me,” he tells you.
“Why? You don’t want me too?” you played.
“No, you’re not allowed to,” he responds.
“Well nothing had gone how it was supposed to anyway,” you chuckled.
“Come back to work then,” he says.
“Gunil. I don’t think I can. I don’t want anything to do with it,” you tell him.
“Your job is a normal job y/n,” he points.
“But I know what’s going on under the table,” you argued.
“I miss seeing you at work. I miss having lunch in my office. I miss sitting closer to you than I should.” He scooted closer to you on the couch, making his leg rest against yours. “I still want to be close to you. I want you to keep caring about me…cause I care about you too,” he reveals.
“I don’t know if we work though. I feel so morally conflicted when it comes to you. My brain tells me I’m being the stupidest person ever, but my heart wants to be close to you too.”
“Listen to your heart then,” he tells.
“It’s not that simple,” you say.
“It is if you let it be. Stop over complicating things.” He knocked you with his elbow.
“But over complicating things has been my thing lately.”
“Exactly, so stop. You know that you like me, so let’s just like each other,” he states.
“Are you confessing?” You raised your brows.
“Yes, I’m stupidly in love with you,” he confessed. “So please be with me. You don’t have to come back to work if you really don’t want to, but let's see each other,” he said.
“But what if things go terribly wrong? You know people are still after you,” you brought up. Gunil lets out a sigh.
“I can handle it, don't worry. Gosh your pretty little head shouldn’t worry so much,” He places his hand on your head.
“But-” Gunil moves his hand on the top of your head to the back of your neck, pulling you close to him. His nose grazes against yours. His eyes move from your eyes to your lips.
“I said don’t worry.” He closes the distance between the two of you. His lips pressing against yours. You relax into him, hands coming to rest on his chest. His hand on the back of your neck gives a gentle squeeze and his other hand comes to rest on your waist. The two of you pull away from each other.
“So work starts at the same time as usual?” you asked with a flush face. Gunil chuckles happily. He leans in and presses another peck to your lips.
“Mhm, don’t be late,” he teased you.
Nothing turned out how it was supposed to be, but somehow you couldn’t be happier with the result.
part 1 part 2
A/N: villain Gunil is wrapped thank you everyone for reading!
Taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @ezlynkisses @chewednails @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143
#xdinary heroes#xdh#xdh imagines#xdh x reader#xdinary heroes imagines#xdinary heroes x reader#xh gunil#xdh gunil#gunil x reader#goo gunil x reader#koo gunil x reader#gunil#goo gunil#koo gunil
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final battle scene + mike with a sword sequence + holding out for a hero by bonnie tyler send tweet
#ISNT THERE A WHITE KNIGHT UPON A FIERY STEED#LATE AT NIGHT I TOSS AND I TURN AND I DREAM OF WHAT I NEED#i’m sure someone has said this before but i can’t stop thinking about it#a la shrek 2 if u wish#aka the greatest action sequence of all time not sorry#mike wheeler#/astro posts#i need a hero! i’m holding out for a hero till the morning!#he’s gotta be sure and it’s gotta be soon and he’s gotta be larger than life!!!
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Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3
ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k
“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.”
“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.”
“I understand, but–”
“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.”
You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?
“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself.
The door opens while you’re looking through your bag.
“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?”
You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.”
“Did you call them?”
Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden.
Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull.
“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks.
You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top.
Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ?
“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly.
You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.”
“We really don’t have time to waste.”
“I know, but my blood sugar–”
She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”
“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”
“Clearly not!”
“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.”
The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed.
You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.”
If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.”
Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?”
“You want to chew it for me?” you ask.
He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.”
He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick.
“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.
“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth.
He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut.
In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?”
You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.”
“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?”
“No,” you say apologetically.
“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.”
Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”
“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”
“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.
“How did you get so low?” he asks.
“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?”
“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.”
“Don’t usually get so dizzy.”
“When was the last time you were below seventy?”
“Don’t know,” you mumble.
Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?”
He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke.
You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard.
By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her.
You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.”
“I understand.”
You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.
He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.”
“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble.
He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.”
“What do I get in return?”
He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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i talked about it a little bit already but i have things to say about it. for context, i was born with amniotic band syndrome. the amniotic band wrapped around my left wrist in utero and stunted the growth of my hand. i was born with about half a palm, four nubs for fingers, and a twisted half of a thumb. i can open and close my thumb and pinkie joint like a claw.
yesterday at work i had a shift in the room with 5-10 year old kids. i had my left hand hidden in my sleeve (a bad habit of mine). a kid asked if he could see my hand, and even though internally i was debating running into traffic, i said “sure you can” and showed him my hands. he stared for a moment, looking disturbed, and then said “i don’t want to look at that anymore”. that hurt to hear, but i understand that kids are new to the world and he probably didn’t mean it out of malice. i put my hand away again, told him that it was okay, and that i was just born that way.
he then went on to talk about how he knows a kid with a similar hand to mine and called it “ugly”. i told him that wasn’t a very kind thing to say and that he wouldn’t feel good if someone said that to him, and he replied that no one would say that to him—because he has “normal hands”, and he’s glad he does because otherwise he’d be “ugly”. i tried to talk with him for a bit about how everybody is born differently, but he just started talking about a girl he knows with a “messed up face” and pulled on his face to make it look droopy. i went on some more about how it wasn’t very kind to talk about people that way, but the conversation moved on to something else.
i’ve told my supervisors about it and they’re going to have a talk with his mom. what i wanted to say is this: i’m genuinely not upset with the kid. kids are young and naturally curious, and he clearly simply hasn’t been taught about disabled people and kind ways to speak to/about others. which is why i am upset with his parent(s). i know he’s encountered visibly deformed/disabled people before (he said so himself!), yet his parent(s) clearly haven’t had any kind of discussion with him about proper language and behavior. i knew from birth that some people were just different than others, but my parents still made a point to assert to be kind to and accepting of others. i wonder if adults in his life are the type of people to hush him and usher him away when he points out someone in a wheelchair. that kind of thing doesn’t teach politeness. it tells children that disabled people are an Other than can’t be acknowledged or spoken about; which, to a child, means disability must be something bad.
i’m lucky enough that this was a relatively mild incident, and that i’m a grownup with thicker skin. i’m worried about the other kids he mentioned to me. has he been talking to them this way? when i was a kid, i had other kids scream, cry, and run away at the sight of my hand. or follow me around pointing at me and laughing at me. or tell me i couldn’t do something because i was ugly or incapable or whatever. one time a girl at an arcade climbed to the top of the skeeball machine, pointed at me, and screamed at me to put my hand away and wouldn’t stop crying until she couldn’t see me anymore. another time, a kid saw my hand, screamed at the top of her lungs, and ran into my friend’s arms, crying hysterically about how i was scaring her. that second incident made me cry so hard i threw up when i got home. i can kind of laugh it off now, but having people react to me that way as a child is something i’m still getting over. why do you think i have a habit of keeping my hand in my sleeve? it just irritates me to see children that have clearly not been taught basic manners and kindness—their parents Clearly missed something pretty important .
#and for the record i consider my deformity pretty mild. maybe i’m just used to it but things like amniotic band syndrome can turn out a lot#more severe. i rarely even call myself disabled because i don’t feel like the term is applicable to me. i’m more hindered by like#my adhd anxiety depression etc than i am my hand. so for those kids to react that way to what i THINK#is a pretty small thing. makes me worry about people that are more visibly disabled#Kids.That are more visibly disabled
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| luke castellan x fem! daughter of poseidon! reader
౨ৎ warnings ౨ৎ: none i think
౨ৎ summary ౨ৎ: luke and [reader] go on a secret date, only to be caught by annabeth, percy, and grover
౨ৎ PART 2 OUT NOW ౨ৎ
“I thought this place was secret..”
“where’re you going anyways at 10:00 am on a random tuesday??”
percy asked, giving a very confused look, mostly because, you’re never up at 10:00 am or ever putting this much effort into making sure your shirt looks good enough.
“percy, i’m not going anywhere. i just decided to.. put a little more effort in today i guess.”
you said with glowing cheeks, thinking of luke. percy doesn’t seem to convinced and was about to say something else, but you quickly beat him to it, to avoid other integrations.
“are you sure my shirt looks good?” “should i opt for the baggier jeans or keep these flared ones on?”
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it was a sunny day for camp half blood. perfect for a picnic or maybe even a secret date..
as you exited your cabin, ready to spend some much needed time with your favorite boy ever, you were stopped by annabeth. don’t get me wrong, you love annabeth. but right now, you wanted some alone time with luke.
“hey y/n! i wanted to ask if you could help me work on some new sparring skills? i was going to ask luke but i can’t seem to find him anywhere.” annabeth asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.
you hesitated in saying it, but you couldn’t ever turn down helping someone. “sure annie. why not” you said with a bit of a forced smile.
as she showed you the moves she’s been working on, you correct her on her form and where she would be exposed to the enemy. this goes on for about 20 minutes until grover walks by and starts talking to annabeth about something.
you use this opportunity to quietly slip away to finally see luke. all you wanted to do was kiss him and hug him and do everything affectionate with him because you felt like you haven’t seen him in forever (you haven’t seen him for like a day).
as you brush through the sharp pine needles and itchy bushes, you finally catch a glimpse of the boy you fell in love with when you were 14.
you see him laying down on a blanket, with his elbows propping him up. you sneak up behind him and put your hands over his eyes.
“guess who!” you say lightly laughing as he guesses stupid answers like “Chiron” or “Percy”.
as you remove your hands from his eyes he gets up and immediately kiss you all over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally your lips.
“hey, i’ve missed you so much.” luke says with love laced in his eyes.
“not as much as i’ve missed you.” “i have to tell you all about the morning i’ve had just to get here!” you exclaimed with a smile as you both sit down, hand in hand.
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some time has passed. about an hour or so. your head is on luke’s shoulder as he’s telling you all about how his week has been and how much he’s missed you (even though you two saw each other literally the day before).
in the middle of talking, you decided to just kiss him because well, you love him and this is one of the only times you got to spend time with him alone. as you’re both ahem.. making out, you hear footsteps, but you don’t think much of it.
until you hear a percy yelling “WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT WITH MY HALF-SISTER?!?!!” as grover catches up with percy, panting. and annabeth removes her hat, “percy! you ruined our cover you seaweed brain.”
“well sorry that i’m freaked out that luke is making out with my sister!! we’re lucky we didn’t get here later..”
as both you and luke just sit there dumbfounded, you finally decide to speak up. “ok why are you all here??” percy replies back very sassily “oh missy that’s the least of your problems.”
you roll your eyes as one of the more mature ones respond (annabeth) “well after grover finished talking to me, i saw that you weren’t with me anymore and also judging how luke wasn’t where he usually is either, i got a little fishy. so i grabbed percy and grover and went off.”
percy is just glaring at luke. like staring daggers into him. luke is just sheepishly smiling as he lays his head on your shoulder kissing it. as you both hear percy lecturing you on how it’s not ok to sneak around and such, annabeth and grover just sit there laughing as you and luke just keep playfully rolling your eyes and being dramatic with your responses like “oh i’m so sorry percy! i won’t ever do this again!”
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as you walk back to your cabin, percy in the middle of you and luke, you’re thinking all about how much you’ve fallen for luke and how excited you are to build your future with him (oop).
and as all three of you walk toward the poseidon cabin, you mouth to luke “stay outside for a minute”. you and percy walk inside and you make up some excuse to go back out there.
you go back outside where luke still is and you hug him around his waist. “that date was fun.. until.. yknow” you said laughing.
he rests his chin on the top of your head, and laughs. “yea. i always love spending time with my sunshine.” he says as he kisses the top of your head and pulls away.
you smile and look at his left eye, his lips, then to his right eye (triangle method lol). you lean in and kiss his soft lips as his arms find their way to your waist and yours to his neck. as you both pull away, foreheads touching, luke whispers with a smile,
“my cabin. 10:30 pm. make sure percy’s asleep.” you lightly laugh and pull away going into your cabin. as luke is about to walk to his counselor duties, he sees percy in the window giving him the death glare. he flinches and he awkwardly smiles and walks backwards until percy walks away from the window.
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౨ৎ a/n ౨ৎ-(PT2??) first imagine done! i really hope u liked this one. pls request some!! i love writing for our fav evil boyfriend lol. and give me feedback! i’m new to this whole “imagines” thing haha <3 (btw idk how to put my requests thing on so just pm me with them🫶🏻🫶🏻)
-jules🎀
#lukecastellan#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo#percyjackson#percy jackson x reader#pjo x reader#pjoverse#pjo series#annabeth#grover#luke castellan x reader#x reader#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#pjo tv show#charlie bushnell#siblings#protective brother#poseidon#luke castellan#child of hermes#hermes#child of poseidon
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can’t get you off my mind
all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?
warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader
genre: fluff, comfort
word count: 4k
it starts at a bar.
or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.
but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face.
“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”
“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways.
“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”
you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then.
“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”
“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”
“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later.
he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.
–
he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face.
a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you.
the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span.
your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it.
another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar.
“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”
“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?
“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”
the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention.
by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.
changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in.
“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat.
“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it.
“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”
“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”
“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”
“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable.
“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return.
“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”
“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”
“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”
the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work.
—
he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door.
god, is everything about this man endearing?
he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through.
he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console.
“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile.
“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time.
four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair.
“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”
“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt.
“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him.
“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”
“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”
he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here?
it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing.
“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”
he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little.
“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide.
“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”
“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”
“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that.
“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground.
“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed.
“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”
you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night.
–
your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years.
you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it.
you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it.
you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him.
“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”
it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold
onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again.
“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand.
“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home.
“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce.
chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other.
“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”
“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck.
—
your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have.
chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan.
“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”
“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?”
“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch.
“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?”
“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over.
“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”
you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind.
he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times.
as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one.
the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer.
you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday.
you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.
—
your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible.
he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him.
he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at.
you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature.
he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you.
“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”
“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior.
“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”
he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues.
“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”
“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”
he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.
“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting.
“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”
#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids#skz fluff#bang chan imagines#bang chan fluff#bang chan x reader
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Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-
Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹
Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.
my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k
“Is Maeve okay?”
It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation.
She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him.
Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists.
She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?
It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before.
He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?
“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”
She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples.
“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”
She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her.
“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”
It’s only then she frowns.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”
“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance.
“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her.
“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”
“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“
“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”
“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”
A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration.
She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished.
Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her.
Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her.
And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper.
“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”
Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed.
Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him.
“You’re important to me.”
She has no idea how much.
Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive.
“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.
Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted.
The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care.
He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long.
#spencer reid#spencer Reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds fanfic
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If I Should Stay
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
He’s staring at him.
Steve Harrington is staring at Eddie Munson.
The thing is, people don’t just stare at Eddie. Not for any reason that means anything good for Eddie. So when, completely unprompted, the fucking King of Hawkins High walks up to Eddie and says, “I need to talk to you,” Eddie thinks he’s entirely justified in the squeak he lets out.
“You? Talk? To me?” Wow. Great job, brain.
“Please,” Harrington whispers, and Eddie thinks desperately this must be some kind of joke, except he’s good at reading people, and he knows the desperation in Harrington’s eyes.
“Okay,” he says, stammers. “Um. There- there’s, behind the school, a, uh-”
“Table,” Harrington nods. “That works. Just…” he sighs, rakes a hand through his hair. “Leave the lunchbox at home.”
Eddie’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Then what the fuck do you want with me, dude?”
“I can’t explain. Not here, not now. Just. Please. After school, okay?”
Eddie looks at him. Really looks, studies his face, understands the lines by his eyes, the tightness of his mouth. His heart thumps as he realizes. He’s scared. “Okay,” he says, and means it.
Eddie’s a man of his word, so after school he makes his way to the table, pausing when it comes into view. Harrington’s already there, sitting with his head in his hands. Eddie calls out from a couple of paces away. “You sure you don’t want anything from the lunchbox?”
Harrington jumps, hands up, eyes round. Relaxes a little when he sees Eddie. “No. I- I’m good. I can’t, actually.”
Eddie frowns. “What, like, a sports thing? No one’s gotta know, dude, I’ve never been busted, I can keep a secret.”
Steve gives him a half-smile. “No. It’s- it’s not a sports thing. Just… sit down? And promise to listen?”
“Okay,” Eddie says, because he knows how comforting it can be to just have someone there, and he’s not a dick; clearly Harrington’s going through something. Though why he approached Eddie, of all people, he doesn’t know.
“Okay,” Harrington repeats back, taking a breath before starting. “If I were to tell you I’m from the future, a future in which we know each other, how would you ask me to prove it?”
Eddie blinks. He was ready for a lot of things, but not time travel. “Um. I dunno, man, I haven’t really thought about it.”
He takes another deep breath. “Can I try?”
“To- to prove you’re from the future?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie laughs, a little hysterically. “Man, where the fuck do I get the strain you’re on?”
He blinks. “What?”
Eddie gestures at him. “Come on, man, you have to admit you’re not really making sense here.”
Harrington sighs. Takes another breath. Says, “You live with your uncle Wayne. Your father taught you to hot wire cars when you were nine. You listen to Dio and Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne but your favorite song is I Will Always Love You, by Dolly Parton, because it was your mom’s favorite. The guitar pick you wear around your neck was hers. She taught you guitar. You love The Hobbit. Stop me when I’ve said enough.”
Eddie’s never been more scared in his life. “Listen, man, I dunno where you heard all that-”
“Eddie,” he says, implores, and digs something out of his pocket. Opens his hand to reveal a ring.
A ring Eddie already has on his finger.
“What the fuck,” Eddie whispers. Grabs for the ring before he can tell himself it’s a bad idea. Examines it, sees the dent from where his finger had gotten smashed in a door.
His hands start shaking.
“I’m from 1987,” Steve Harrington says, sure as anything. “And I’m trying to stop something terrible.”
“And what would that be?” Eddie asks, feeling strangely detached from the whole thing.
“Your death,” Steve Harrington says, still sure as anything.
Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect
#if I should stay#do I need to be starting another wip?#no#do I need help?#yes. probably#will I get any?#hahahahaha no.#probably not#anyways I don’t know why Steve went back in time. we’re gonna figure it out as we go along#or we won’t#this is my excuse to write Steddie#and to write Eddie into the script earlier than he actually was#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#starambles
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Don't tell Bucky
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: After a night out with Natasha and Wanda reader gets drunk and tells someone about her secret crush on Bucky.
Word Count: 642
Masterlist
The elevator door opened with a ping, and you stumbled out with Wanda and Natasha following you. Natasha, Wanda, and you were in a bar and had a lot of fun but unfortunately you got a little too much to drink. You saw some other avengers sitting in the living room, so you walked to them.
“Heeeyyyy.” You screamed and waved them. Tony laughed while the others turned around and looked at you. You walked over to where they were sitting and sat down on an empty spot beside Steve.
“What happened to her?” Sam asked Natasha while Wanda walked into the kitchen to bring you a glass of water.
“She is definitely not drunk.” Tony answered instead of Natasha, and you turned to him.
“He didn’t ask you! Sam asked Natasha.”
“Oh, sorry.” He said and tried to hold back a laugh. While Natasha talked to Bucky who asked her why they let you drink so much and how this could happen Wanda gave you a glass of water. They all know that you can’t drink much without getting drunk, so it surprised him that you got so drunk. You didn’t really understand what they were talking because you were now busy singing and dancing around. Bucky looked at you and smiled. You smiled back and ran to Bucky and said, “Come on let’s dance with me.”
“I think you should go to bed, doll.” Bucky said in a soft tone, and you giggled.
“Bucky calls me doll too.” You said and he looked at you confused while Tony and Sam started laughing again. Bucky looked at them with a warning look and they stopped.
“Wait, where is Bucky?” You asked him and then turned around to the others. Tony and Sam looked at each other trying not to laugh and Steve pointed at Bucky next to you.
“I’m right here, doll.” He said and gently touched your shoulder.
“Oh, hey.” You said and waved.
“Hey.” Bucky chuckled.
“Come let’s get you to bed.” He said and guided you to your room with his hand on your back. When you reached your room Bucky took out a shirt from your closet and gave it to you to change. When you got back from the bathroom Bucky was still in your room. You sat next to Bucky on your bed.
“Can I tell you a secret?” You asked him with a hiccup coming through.
“Sure.”
“But you can’t tell Bucky!”
“Okay.” He began to blush and got nervous.
“I think Bucky has the most beautiful eyes and smile in the whole world and I-I love taking to him or just being in a room with Bucky. I think I have a crush on him.” You finished.
“You have a crush on me?” Bucky nervously ran his fingers through his hair.
“Not on you. On Bucky.” You said again.
“Right.” He said with a chuckle.
“Why don’t you tell him.” Bucky asked you.
“I don’t think he likes me the same way.” You nervously said.
“What? I don’t think so.”
“You think he likes me too?”
“Definitely. Every time when you come into the room his world lights up. Bucky is so in love with you.” You began to smile and couldn’t believe what you just heard.
“Wow, maybe I should tell him.”
“Yeah, or Bucky should tell you. But for now, you should try to sleep.” You nodded, stood up and laid down in bed. Bucky walked to the door and before leaving the room he turned around.
“If you need anything call me or go to my room.”
“Or you just stay here.” You quietly said.
“Are you sure?” You nodded and Bucky walked over to you and made himself comfortable on the empty space next to you. After a few minutes you felt asleep next to Bucky.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x you fluff#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fluff#james bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes comfort#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fanfiction#winter soldier#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel fanfiction#marvel fluff#sebastian stan#bucky x you fluff
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Upstaged | Part 2 | Part 1
It all makes sense.
When Eddie comes back from taking photos with the fans, he looks a little sheepish for the first time. Steve has about a million things to ask, mostly he just wants to laugh about the fucking odds, but he remembers the grace Eddie extended to him about the press ordeal.
Instead, he settles back with his lime soda and a simple question, “So, what kind of music are you into?”
A grateful smile breaks out across Eddie’s face, ecstatic to dive into that with Steve. Their lunch extends into dinner. Steve doesn’t have anywhere to be these days and Eddie practically jumps up and down when the meeting he was in the area for gets canceled. They stay there for a couple more hours, just talking.
Their music taste overlaps at certain points, Eddie talks about how getting his first guitar from the pawn shop pretty much saved him, Steve recounts a little league story that makes Eddie laugh so hard he chokes on his soda.
It’s the most monumentally casual time Steve’s ever had with a new friend in public and he’s not ready for it to end. Even after exchanging numbers and promising to meet up again, they still linger together outside.
“So uh, I remember where I know you from now."
Eddie leans against the side of the building. It’s getting dark, they’re tucked away from any eyes so Steve freely scoots closer to Eddie, waiting for him to explain. He does after a moment, seeming nervous and fiddling with his rings.
“I hate to ask, but my Uncle is huge into baseball, especially you and your general all-around-awesome thing. There weren’t players like you to look up to when he was young, all that. I’ve seen you on his tv so many times, you’re basically part of the family— ah shit, that’s weird, sorry,” he cringes a little, scrunching his nose in a way that makes Steve’s chest clench with affection, “But he’s getting old and like I said earlier, he’s my rock, he raised me and I won’t forgive myself if I don’t at least ask you to come see him sometime.”
The way he rambles is pretty endearing, looking at Steve with a wide-eyed hopeful expression, as if there was even a chance Steve would say no.
He reaches out, gently takes Eddie’s hand to stop his restless fidgeting, “You want me to meet your folks already, hm?”
Eddie lets out an amused scoff, looking down at their hands and back at Steve like he can’t believe it. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, Steve.”
Steve knits his brows, “Why’s that?”
“C’mon man. Y’know how hard it is to find someone who can handle this lifestyle, let alone all the shit that comes with me,” shaking his head a little, Eddie smiles but there’s something aching in it, “Then the nicest looking guy I’ve ever seen comes outta nowhere and saves my life, agrees to go to lunch, happens too know as well as me that life in the limelight ain’t always pretty and turns out to be one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
His fingers thread through Steve’s, holding tight like he’s not sure it’s real. “Even if I never see you again, I’m gonna write songs about you. I’d take you home and keep you right now if I could, but that’s not happening.”
There’s a part of Steve he’s kept shut down for years that comes pumping through his veins then, hot and alive. He realizes that he’s been trying so hard to keep his life as normal as possible that he’s been missing out on actually living it. Now he has this wonderful, crazy, wonderful man spontaneously in front of him and he’s not letting him slip away.
Steve moves in, slowly crowding Eddie against the wall. Eddie’s eyes go a little wide with surprise then darken with desire. Steve watches his face shift through so many emotions, his mouth parting with a soft gasp, wanting this just as badly as Steve.
“Wanna bet?” Steve asks before he crashes into Eddie again.
This time it’s a hot press of lips instead of a full-body collision, but it’s just as breathtaking.
Steve deepens the kiss, thrill prickling all across his skin when Eddie opens up for him right away. Steve licks passed the bright hint of lime on their tongues to get to Eddie. The heady taste of him makes Steve’s world spin, all the desperate noises between them going straight to his head.
“Want you so bad, Eddie, wanna keep you too,” he threads his fingers into all that hair, reveling in the shiver it elicits from Eddie, “God, just wanna have you.”
Eddie chases his lips, “You can, Steve, you can have me— please do.”
Steve loves the sound of that, going in for a longer, more indulgent kiss before pulling back.
“You can’t take me home tonight,” he professes hotly against Eddie’s lips, “My place is closer, you’re coming with me.”
#and at some point eddie admits that he's jerked off to steve's magazine covers before#might keep this going we'll see#steddie#steddie fic#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#rockstar eddie munson#famous eddie munson#famous steve harrington#rueswriting
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PIECE BY PIECE | minho
first date series. friends to lovers.
pairing: minho x fem!reader
word count: 6.2k
genre: college au, mutual pining, fluff, angst
warnings: drinking, referenced injury (very minor)
summary: minho, on a drunken whim, asks you out on a date.
chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin
· · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡
a/n: finally!! the minho part!! i’ve been sooo excited about this one since i first got the idea. i hope you guys enjoy! once again any and all feedback is appreciated, happy reading <3
“Dude, I think it’s clean.”
Minho looks up from where he’s scrubbing the counter, eyes narrowed. So what if it’s his third time going over every surface in the kitchen?
“Are you going to help me or are you just gonna sit there and make more crumbs?”
Jeongin’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He holds up his hands in surrender, the bag of chips in his lap crinkling. “I’m just saying. You’re acting like she’s never seen the place before.”
That’s the problem. You’ve seen his place. Minho has to stop the shudder that threatens to overtake his body at the thought.
“So you’re not helping? Great. Get out.”
“I live here!” Jeongin whines. “Why do I have to get out? You can’t banish me like this.”
“I can and I will. Now leave. I have two hours to make sure everything is ready and I am not going to vacuum for a fourth time.”
“Yes mom,” Jeongin rolls his eyes as he unfolds his legs from underneath him.
He stops just short of the kitchen counter, points an accusatory finger at Minho’s disheveled figure still hunched over an imaginary stain.
“For the record, Chan hyung would never do this to me. He loves my crumbs.”
Minho throws the scrub daddy at him.
🏠
The night it happens, all it takes is approximately three shots and a pep talk from Hyunjin for Minho to finally find the nerve to ask you out.
“You’ve got this,” the younger boy says, words slurred, his hands steady on both Minho’s shoulders. The bass thumps loud in the other room, drowned out by the walls of the kitchen until it’s nothing but garbled nonsense going in one of his ears and out the other, vibrations low in his chest.
“I’ve got this.” Minho repeats, the thrum of alcohol already spreading to his fingertips. He feels warm, light on his feet. His limbs are starting to loosen up and his insides are turning to jelly. He might even be floating.
“You look hot.”
“I look hot.”
“She’s gonna say yes.”
“She’s gonna say yes.”
“You’re gonna venmo me twenty dollars.”
“I’m gonna venmo you twenty dollars.” Minho parrots before he can even process what he’s saying. Changbin, who’d been watching the entire thing unfold from where he stands with his back pressed against the sink, snorts.
“Wait, what the f—”
“Go get her!” Hyunjin screams, pushing him through the door of the kitchen with one last pat on the back, “And send me my money!”
Minho stumbles over himself, just barely able to stop in time before he goes crashing into a group of people. The living room is crowded: there’s furniture pushed up against the walls, bodies pressed front to back in the middle of the floor, a makeshift DJ stand in the corner where Chan is controlling the music from his laptop, drink in hand. Minho catches his eye from across the room, the glow of the LEDs reflecting off the toothy grin he shoots his way, dimples on full display.
“Hey!” Minho feels someone grab his arm, and he turns to find you staring up at him. “Where’d you go? You said you were gonna get a drink.”
Minho follows your eyes down to where you’re staring at his empty hands. “I—uh, well. I ran into Hyunjin and we took a few shots.”
The pout you give him does nothing but spur on the fluttering of his chest, his brain still hyper aware of the way your hand was resting on his elbow. “Shots? I want shots!” you whine, and Minho has to avert his gaze from staring at your lips when your pout only worsens.
“How much have you had?” he tries to ask over the music. There’s a shitty pop song playing, high pitched and wonky. If he remembers in the morning, he’ll make sure he berates Chan about his DJ-ing abilities.
“What?” you scream back, tiptoeing to bring your mouth closer to his ear.
Minho is only a man. A man who's been in love with you since the moment you accidentally spilled your coffee all over Hyunjin in the quad during freshman year. He remembers that day well, remembers the way your eyes went wide and your lips parted. He also remembers the way he wished it was him with the large wet stain on his shirt, that way it was him that was offered to have his lunch bought as an apology.
He’d never admit it, but sometimes really late at night, when the moon is high in the sky and he’s feeling oddly sentimental, he counts his lucky stars that Hyunjin had been in a relationship at the time. Minho doesn’t know what he would’ve done had he been forced to watch the two of you hit it off—some form of arson, presumably. Anything to take the edge off. But because of the fact that Hyunjin was not trying to have his head cut off by said girlfriend at the time, he invited Minho along as some sort of collateral damage. That’s when the two of you became friends. Kind of perfect if you ask him.
With the jumbled mess of butterflies in his stomach that he gets whenever you’re near him, and the threat of the alcohol slowly seeping through his skin, his brain short circuits the minute your breath grazes the shell of his ear. When your hand follows not long after, fingers gripping the nape of his neck to hold him in place, he almost passes out.
“Min? What’d you say?”
Minho is rendered completely useless by you. Absolutely ruined. Your existence has thrown his entire plan to woo you off course and now his mouth is opening and closing like a badly programmed robot. Pathetic. Nuts and bolts for brains.
By the grace of God (or some other higher being that Minho’s never bothered to believe in until this very moment) he finds his voice, but not before you’re pulling back with a confused look on your face.
“I asked how much you’ve had to drink,” he says, straining against the music.
A saccharine sweet grin that has him seeing stars spreads across your face, “Not enough!”
Minho is not an enabler. Never has been, never will be. There was one time, back in that fateful freshman year that also introduced the two of you, that he let Hyunjin get blackout drunk. A terrible decision on his end, if the earful he got from Chan the next morning was anything to go by. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was finding remnants of the resulting hacking session for the following week. So yeah, never again.
But while Minho isn’t an enabler, he is smitten, and the way your hand feels wrapped around his wrist as you drag him into the kitchen has his soul threatening to leave his body. He thinks that maybe he could do anything as long as you asked. He also hopes you can’t feel the way his pulse is rabbiting beneath his skin, right under the press of your thumb.
“There’s, like, nothing here.” you say as you rummage through the cupboard near the window, nose scrunched and a frown on your face.
Minho laughs, rounds the kitchen island to crouch down and open the cabinet under the sink. “That’s because you don’t know where to look,” he smirks, pulling out a fresh bottle of tequila. “Also, Chan hyung is greedy. He knows people like you will go scavenging his supply if he isn’t careful.”
“I resent that.” you frown, taking the bottle from him. “Besides, people like me deserve to have fun too.”
“Mhm, sure.” Minho says, grabbing a solo cup. He holds his hand out for the bottle, pours just the right amount before sliding it over and following it up with a can of coke.
“A man after my heart.” you joke, holding your cup up to him in a mock toast before downing it in one go. Minho watches with so much focus, fighting against the way his head spins. He doesn’t even know if it’s the alcohol anymore, it might just be the effect you have on him. Dizzying—you flip his entire world on its axis in the best way possible.
Minho’s gonna be seeing your exposed neck in his dreams later, he’s sure of it—it’s branded into his memory.
“That…is so fucking bad.” you giggle, holding your cup out. “Another one.”
Minho clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…”
“Pleaseeee Min,” the lilt in your voice sounds oddly familiar. Minho holds his breath just in case you—yup. There it is. There goes that pout again.
It’d be so easy for him to lean down and kiss it right off your lips. He could blame it on the alcohol, maybe, but then that takes away from how he actually means it.
He sighs instead. “It’s gonna cost you.”
“An arm and a leg?”
“What? No—I meant some water.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Three shots and a full bottle of water later, Minho knows you’ve hit your limit. Cheeks flushed pink, a dopey grin on your face, pupils blown wide. Even in this state, Minho is certain that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Anotherrrr,” you slur, waving your cup in his face.
Minho shakes his head. “No can do. You’re cut off.”
“Please,” you whine, placing both hands on his shoulders, “I’ll do anything.”
Minho, completely taken back by the sudden closeness of your body to his, freezes.
“Anything?” he asks before he can stop himself.
This is stupid. You’re drunk. There’s no way you’re going to remember anything in the morning, much less within the next thirty minutes. He’s pretty sure that you’ll lose control of all your senses soon, which is why he’s already texted your roommate Jiwoo to unlock the door so he can carry you inside. Nothing he hasn’t done before.
“Anything,” you repeat, eyes going cross-eyed where they’re fixing on the mole he has at the tip of his nose.
This is stupid. But then again, so is Minho. A big, stupid fool that blames everything on the fact that he’s so in love with you it hurts. This might be the only chance he gets to shoot his shot.
Minho takes a deep breath, says something similar to a little prayer that’s more like Hey, if anyone’s listening, help a guy out, and hopes that the twenty bucks he sent Hyunjin works.
“Go on a date with me.” he says slowly, wincing when your eyes snap up to meet his gaze.
Well, there’s really no going back from that. The only thing that could possibly grant him redemption now is banking on the fact that you don’t remember anything in the morning.
Minho waits with bated breaths, watches as your eyes search his for a long while. He waits for the anger, the disgust, the visible repulsion that he starts to think might happen the longer the silence continues.
He’s about to backtrack, quickly conjuring up an excuse about how Oh, haha, gotcha! when your hands suddenly drop from his shoulders. You grab the cup, your chin tipped upwards, and hold it out for him to fill.
“Okay.”
“O…kay?”
“Yeah. Okay. Pour me another one.”
The next morning, when Minho all but drags himself into the kitchen in search of water and something to soothe the throbbing in his head, he nearly spits a mouthful at Jeongin, the poor guy too busy eating his cereal to realize he’s gotten a front row seat in the splash zone.
Y/N [10:34am]
so
when do you want to do that date?
🏠
Are candles too much?
Minho has options: clean linen, lavender breeze, ocean mist, warm vanilla. He really just needs something to get rid of the smell of cleaning spray.
He thought that having a night in for a first date would be ideal—less pressure, no unwanted attention, a bathroom that he can run into when he starts to hyperventilate if you smile at him for too long. But now that it’s happening, he’s convinced that every surface of his and Jeongin’s shared apartment will scare you away if anything so much as looks off-putting.
Minho is, to put it simply, freaking out. All the other times you’ve been over to his place were on a completely platonic level. Movie nights with all the other guys in tow, dropping off food that you felt generous enough to buy every once in a while, one time because you’d accidentally worn Minho’s jacket home from a party and needed to return it to him.
But this is different. This is a date. Minho’s not dreaming—he already pinched himself a dozen times in the bathroom mirror, tiny red marks on the inside of his forearm to prove it. He’s going to open the door, invite you in, cook for you, and then proceed to resist the urge to tell you how beautiful you are for however long the night continues on after that. He can practically hear Jeongin’s laugh in the back of his head, sneering at how pathetic his inner monologue sounds right now.
He needs to find another stain to scrub.
By the time you’re knocking on his door, Minho has changed his outfit seven times. Sweats were too casual, a button up was too fancy. Should he not have done his hair? No, that’s just lazy, the way his fringe is swept up and out of his forehead adds a nice touch that doesn’t scream Hey! I’m trying to woo you! You’ve never been the type to be impressed by grand gestures and shows of confidence anyways, he knows that well.
One time, when a guy from one of the frat houses hired the campus quartet to sing a song for you in the quad as he stood there with big beady eyes and a bouquet of roses in his hand, you’d all but ran from the scene, Minho following close behind as you called out to him over your shoulder. It’s one of his fondest memories. As soon as the two of you made it around the back of the science building, you’d doubled over in laughter, the both of you in disbelief at what had happened. Minho has had that information tucked into the deepest parts of his brain ever since, saved just in case he needed it.
(Later that night, in the safety of his own bed, he’d laughed maniacally at the situation. Something about watching you reject another guy filled him with a sense of joy he couldn’t explain. He just hoped he was never going to be on the receiving end of it.)
He does a quick once over of the kitchen: double checks that all the ingredients are out, blows a speck of dust off the glass stovetop, spins the tiny floral arrangement he bought so that it’s sitting at just the right angle. When the doorbell rings, the chime bouncing off the walls of the apartment, he visibly pales.
He has to reel it in, to remember that it’s just you. You might not even be here with any intentions other than to fulfill your end of the deal; one date in exchange for the extra three shots he poured you the other night. Minho takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob with conviction, and decides that he’s determined to show you the way you deserve to be treated. The opportunity is there, and he’s gonna take it.
As soon as the door swings open, every nerve that had somehow crept its way into his brain disappears, the sight of you standing on the other side immediately sending the anxiety scrambling and replacing it with fondness instead.
“Hi,” you smile, and Minho sees images of you coming home to his apartment flash across his mind. After class, after work, in the winter when it’s cold and your nose is tinted pink, on rainy days where the ends of your hair are damp and you have a wet umbrella in tow. He could get used to it. He’s so in love that it hurts.
“Hey,” he breathes out, stepping aside to make way for you, “Come in. Are you hungry?”
“Starving, actually. Been saving myself all day since I don’t always get to have your cooking.” You hop on to one of the stools, your attention momentarily stolen by the flower arrangement. One point for Minho.
I’d cook for you every day, he wants to say. But that’s weird, right? So instead, “Well then I guess today is your lucky day.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” You say softly.
Minho can’t see you with the way his back is turned, hands moving to grab out the knife and cutting board, but if he could he’d see the way your eyes are staring softly at his back, the ghost of a smile on your lips.
Conversation flows easily after that, despite Minho’s original worries about it being awkward. You’re not necessarily treating it as a date, and he isn’t really either. It feels more like a glorified hangout, just the two of you spending time together with the added glances and smiles that normally wouldn’t be there.
Minho finds it easy to get lost in you. He finds himself craving to know more about your day, about the things that’ve been on your mind lately and the hobbies you’ve picked up. Most of the conversation is a continuation of stuff that’s fallen through the cracks during the times you see each other, but he doesn’t miss the way you ask about him too, your eyes shining with genuine interest. It makes his heart slam against his ribcage.
“How are your cats doing?”
Minho looks up from the cutting board, follows your gaze to where it’s fixed on the scattered pictures that litter his fridge. “They’re good,” he says, smiling down at a head of garlic, “My mom sends pictures all the time. She says they claw at the door to my room when they miss me.” He smashes the garlic under the knife’s blade by hitting it with the heel of his palm. “It’s cute.”
“You’re cute.”
Minho, in a very flashy demonstration of what it means to be cool, calm, and collected, slices his thumb mid-chop.
“Shit.” he mutters, dropping the knife.
It’s not that bad, just a little nick, the surprise was mostly what scared him. He probably doesn’t even need a bandaid. But despite how small it is, nothing stops you from hurriedly walking up to him and taking his hand in yours, his thumb held closely to your face for inspection.
“Are you okay?” You turn his hand over between your fingers, the soft pads of them against his calloused ones. Minho is dumbfounded, struggling to find the words to say.
“Yeah—um, it’s fine. My fault. I was distracted.” He stammers out, pulling his hand back and holding it up. He wiggles his fingers, making a show of bending and twisting his thumb that, at most, has just a small cut on the side. “See? Perfect.”
Your face relaxes, and then you’re laughing. Why are you laughing? Either Minho looks like a complete idiot or he’s suddenly the funniest person in the world for being clumsy and reckless and almost ruining the night by losing a finger. Whichever one it is, he doesn’t care, as long as he gets to hear that sound again.
“Let me help cook, please? I know you said you would do it all but clearly you’re a threat to the integrity of this meal.” You say, bumping your hip against his to move him away from the cutting board.
Minho scoffs. “I wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t catch me off guard.”
“So what? You admit that I make you flustered?”
Oh.
Minho wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for the—the flirting that’s clearly happening. You’re flirting with him, right? Why else would you have called him cute or given him that suspicious side eye after you asked that question?
You and Minho have joked around like this before, but it was always empty with no real feelings attached—as far as he could tell. You’re a naturally friendly person, getting along with others comes easy to you. He’s seen the way you talk to the other guys and has always just assumed he was no different in your eyes than they were. Sure, there were moments where maybe your hand lingered on his arm for a little while after he made you laugh, or the two of you would steal glances across the room. Sometimes when Hyunjin said something stupid you’d both catch the other’s eye and make a face, just another funny way of proving that you were both on the same wavelength most of the time. It’s kind of why Minho is so taken with you—he’s never met anyone that gets him the same way.
Reluctantly, Minho puts his pride aside and allows you to help. And as it turns out, you’re actually really good at cooking. Minho doesn’t have to instruct you much, and before he knows it you’re both working like a well-oiled machine, scooting past one another as you switch places between the stove and the sink, reading each other’s minds without even having to ask.
“Taste this.” You say, holding the spoon up to his mouth. Minho leans forward, front teeth poking out, and brings the spoon into his mouth. You cup your hand under his chin to catch any droppings, watching in anticipation as he smacks his lips together.
His eyes light up, big and brown and twinkling under the light of the kitchen. “Perfect.” He smiles.
“Oh you have—uh,” you stop him with a hand on his forearm just as he’s about to turn back to the sink, your other hand hovering next to his face hesitantly, “It’s just, um, your—here.”
Minho’s eyes go wide when your thumb swipes against the corner of his mouth, your touch feather light. It’s so intimate, the only sound being the music playing low from the speaker on the counter. He’s half convinced that you’re able to hear his heartbeat, blood pumping loud in his ears.
“You had some sauce…on your face.” You say shyly, your palm still pressed to his cheek.
“…Oh.”
Minho’s never really looked into your eyes from this close up before. He’s always known they were beautiful, the shape of them soft, full of nothing but the world. He can see himself in them from here, and, selfishly, he hopes you can see yourself in his, too.
He might be imagining it when your gaze flicks down to his lips for just a fraction of a second, but there’s no time to unpack any of that when the sauce starts bubbling over the edge of the pot, spilling on to the burner as loud sizzling and smoke fills the kitchen.
It’s chaos. The bottom of the pot is burnt and there’s only so much of it that’s salvageable. He only bought the exact amount of ingredients too, because this is a self-proclaimed no-food-waste household (as explicitly stated in the napkin contract he has with Jeongin, much to his dismay). So, hooray for conscious consumption of goods!
At the end of it all, there’s no one to blame. You’re both guilty of…whatever that was.
Minho tries to reassure you that it’s okay as he dials the number for the pizza place just down the street, simultaneously shutting down all your attempts to pay as an apology. It doesn’t matter to him, he’d do anything as long as it means he gets to spend time with you. At the end of the day, it’s another memory that he’ll hold close to his heart.
“Listen,” you say, swallowing down a mouthful of pizza, the both of you seated on his couch with a half-eaten box of pizza open on the coffee table, “I know you wanted to cook and all—which, by the way, I’m still sorry—but this is so good. However I’m sure whatever you made would’ve been better.”
Minho chuckles. “Stop lying,” he wipes his hands on a napkin, “I can guarantee you that whatever I cooked wouldn’t be as good as this anyways.”
“Stop selling yourself short, Min. You’re good at everything you do.”
The words fall from your lips so easily, like it’s something you’ve convinced yourself of long ago. Minho’s never been the type to bounce around from one thing to another, always choosing to stick with it until he has it down to a science. Cooking is one of them. Jeongin can attest to all the times Minho has berated him with tasting his latest dishes, chasing him around the apartment with a spoon. The words tighten themselves around his heart.
“I’m not,” he rolls his eyes, “But nine times out of ten, grease and mozzarella cheese are gonna win. I know that for a fact.”
You laugh, and the conversation gradually diverts into a debate about the top ten best greasy foods in existence. You’re heated, half kneeling on the couch with a finger pointed at him as you plead your case for onion rings, when your eyes go past Minho’s head and settle on the shelf of games in the hallway.
“You have games?” you ask, suddenly giddy with excitement as you hurry over to inspect the selection.
Minho watches with fond eyes, collects the plates and napkins to throw away. “Yeah, most of them are Innie’s. We don’t really use them. Sometimes when we’re drunk, other times when we’re bored and decide to wager money for fun.”
You hum, not really paying attention. Monopoly, Chutes and Ladders, some decks of cards, Uno—you scan the shelf until your eyes light up at what you find hidden at the bottom.
“Min! Can we play Jenga?”
“Jenga?” Minho asks, re-entering the living room. The coffee table is clear now, and he sits between it and the couch, his back against the cushion. “Isn’t that kind of boring? We have other stuff there.”
“It’s only boring if you play it the way it’s supposed to be played.” You roll your eyes. Minho turns to you when you situate yourself on the floor beside him and only momentarily contemplates running to the bathroom when your knee knocks against his. He’s been holding it together pretty well so far, however The Sauce Incident had him ready to book it if anything had gone further.
“Well how else are we supposed to play it?” He frowns.
“We make up our own rules.”
The pieces scatter across the wood of the coffee table, clacking as you diligently begin putting them together. “This is a date, right?” You ask, stopping for a moment to turn and assess his response.
Minho stills. He genuinely forgot the grounds on which tonight had even happened in the first place. Spending time with you makes him forget everything else. And, despite his fears in the beginning, being on a date with you has felt so natural that it almost seems like you’ve done it a thousand times before.
Your eyes meet. For a moment, Minho lets himself wonder what it’d be like if he went for it right then and there. “Yeah,” he says slowly, unblinking, hoping you can see the sincerity on his face, “A date. One of the best ones I’ve ever been on, actually.”
He almost cries out in victory when your face flushes pink. “Now who’s a liar?” You ask quietly, going back to piecing together the game.
Minho has learned something new tonight: he really likes seeing you flustered.
“Why do you ask?” he decides to cut you the slack, “Or what does this being a date have to do with Jenga rules?”
He waits as you finish the stack, your tongue sticking out in concentration. You’re so cute. Minho mentally pockets that image for safe keeping.
“Sorry, okay, it’s done. But basically, if we pull out a block, we get to ask the other person a question.”
“And if the tower falls…?”
“Hmm,” you think for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, “Oh! I know. If you lose you have to tell me why you asked me on a date.”
Minho’s stomach flips. “Okay. If you lose you have to tell me why you accepted the date.”
Something unreadable passes over your face, but it’s gone in an instant. You hold your hand out for a shake, and Minho wraps his fingers around it gently.
“Deal.”
“Why are you taking all of the middle pieces?” Minho pouts.
The two of you have gone through a couple turns by now, throwing out random questions for the better half of fifteen minutes. Favorite colors, childhood foods you wouldn’t eat, the best memory you have from high school. Minho’s learned a lot, has fallen for you a lot more. But that was always a given. It’s impossible not to when he can feel the warmth from your body where you’re seated next to him, your presence overtaking all of his senses.
“Because I’m trying to win,” you laugh, putting your freshly pulled piece at the top. Just a little crooked, too. To piss him off. “Favorite movie?”
“Ponyo. Easy. My turn.”
“Seriously? Why Ponyo?”
“One question at a time, princess.”
He means it as a joke, really. He doesn’t even realize what he’s said until after the fact, the nickname making your heart skip a beat. Minho notices, the corners of his lips tugging downwards as he suppresses a smile. He manages to flick one of the side pieces until it gives way.
“What’s one thing you regret?”
“Ooh, getting deep I see.” You laugh, taking a sip of your soda. There’s a long pause, and then, “I regret spilling my coffee on Hyunjin that day.”
Minho’s brow furrows. You…regret it? He runs through all the possible reasons in his head. Surely it can’t be because you regret becoming friends with them, friends with him, right?
“Why?” He chances.
“One question at a time, princess.” You echo, laughing at his shocked expression.
You remove the last middle piece. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate our first date?”
Minho’s brain is going a thousand miles a minute. “A ten. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” He says it fast, wastes no time in moving forward to remove his own piece. He doesn’t even notice that your cheeks have gone pink again, too busy itching to ask his next question.
“Why do you regret spilling your coffee on Hyunjin?”
Minho watches you, lets his mind wander to the worst possible thing you could say in this situation, and mentally prepares to book it to the bathroom.
You take a deep breath, “I regret it because I wasn’t supposed to spill it on him. I was supposed to spill it on you.”
Wait, what?
Minho blinks. “What are you talking about?”
This is humiliating for you. A terrible thing to have to admit. Up until this moment, you’d thought that this information would follow you to your grave. You press the heel of your palms to your eyes, “This is so embarrassing,” you groan.
Minho pulls one hand away. He’s not really sure what to say, mostly because he’s confused, but, “You can tell me.”
“I had…” you start, looking up at him slowly, “A plan. With Jiwoo.” Minho nods for you to continue. “I’d seen you and Hyunjin walking through the quad a few times, and I thought that you were cute, but I didn't know how to approach you. So I did something stupid and decided that I would literally just crash into you. But I fucked it up.”
I thought that you were cute. The words echo in Minho’s ears like a bell. All this time, all those stolen glances and lingering touches, all the ways you would make hope spike in his chest that maybe you felt the same—they were real.
“So you, wait—” Minho shakes his head, “So you’re telling me that all this time…”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, Min, really. All this time.”
Minho’s never been skydiving, but he imagines that this is what it feels like. Free falling—his soul hurtling towards earth at a horrifying speed, slamming back into his body right here in his living room with a force so strong it would knock him off his feet if he wasn’t already sitting on the floor. You were interested in him first.
Wordlessly, you lean forward, pulling out a piece with practiced ease. Minho waits with bated breaths.
“Can I kiss you?”
Minho feels like he might pass out. “Am I dreaming right now?”
“You didn’t pull out a piece.”
He scrambles forward, clumsily nudging a piece on the side that ends up sending the entire tower toppling over. You smile at him, soft and sweet. “Looks like you have to pay up with an answer. You know, since you lost.”
Minho doesn’t care. “Because I like you,” he breathes out, “I asked you on a date because I like you. I like you so much, ever since I saw you that day. And, funnily enough, I’ve always wished you’d spilled that coffee on me instead, too.”
The confession feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He’s spent so long pining after you, laying awake at night thinking about how this would go down if he ever got the chance. He never expected for it to happen like this, much less for you to possibly feel the same.
Panic slowly starts to rise in his chest when you don’t respond. He watches as you reach an arm over, build a small tower out of a few pieces, and then knock it over. You turn to him with a small smile, “Oops, I lost too.”
Minho is so in love with you that it hurts.
“I accepted the date because I like you, Minho. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”
He doesn’t think twice before he’s surging forward, cupping your face with one hand and kissing you with a tenderness that has you melting into his touch.
There’s no fireworks behind his eyes, no big bang or grand display of whatever it is that happens in the movies. But there’s a warmth, it starts out small in the center of his chest and spreads throughout his entire body, lights his skin aflame and travels all the way to his fingertips. You’re like that. A gentle presence, someone who worms their way into the very essence of his being and burrows into the deepest parts of him, like it was never his to begin with. Kissing you is slow, and deep, and right. He wouldn’t want it any other way. Minho doesn’t ever want to stop.
He lets his other hand fall to your waist, pulls you closer until you’re practically straddling him with his back against the couch, your knees on either side of his hips. Minho lets out a long, drawn out groan when you tilt his head back farther, his lips parting and allowing you to lick inside of his mouth. It’s so good. So good. He can’t believe he ever lived without knowing what this felt like; lived without ever having you this close before.
After a while, Minho reluctantly pulls back, holding you by the shoulders. When he looks up, your eyes are half-lidded. You look utterly debauched, cheeks pink and lips swollen from how hard they’d been pressed against his own. “We should probably slow down.” He tries hard to convince himself, too. “Talk about it all, you know? I don’t—this isn’t a one time thing for me. I don’t want it to be. I like you. I want you to know that.” He says softly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.
You lean into his hand, smiling when he flattens his palm to let your head rest there. “You’re like, so perfect that I want to kiss you until you forget your own name.”
Minho’s ears go red, his head falling forward until it rests against your collarbone. The feeling of his breath against your skin makes you laugh and run a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck fondly.
“This is gonna be so bad now that you say stuff like that.”
“Bad? No, I think it’s cute. You’re cute.”
“Shut up,” he whines, but there’s no bite to it. Not when he can look up and press a kiss to your lips. A dream come true. The entire world in his hands, exactly where it was always meant to be.
🏠
In the morning, when Jeongin comes back home, one hand covering his eyes just in case, he calls out,
“Everyone better be dressed! Or else I’m ripping up that napkin and making a new one with No fornicating on the furniture added into the fine print.”
When he doesn’t get a response, he rounds the corner, and finds the two of you nestled into the couch. Minho’s back is pressed into the cushions, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you nuzzle your face into his neck.
Jeongin huffs out a laugh, sends a quick text to Hyunjin that reads: Negative. Clothes are still on. But they’re so cute it’s almost sickening.
He snaps a picture to send to the group chat, grabs a piece of cold pizza, and retreats to his room.
Yang Jeongin Fanclub
jeongin: [Attachment: 1 image]
chan: AWWWWWWW
jiwoo: i’m gonna cry
changbin: dude is that the good pizza from down the street?
hyunjin: FINALLY
hyunjin: wait
hyunjin: does this mean i have to send back his $20?
[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @strwbrrychannie ]
© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.
#lee know x reader#first date series : minho#lee know fluff#lee know angst#skz x reader#lee know fanfic#skz fanfic#lee know fic#skz fic#lee know fanfiction#skz fanfiction#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#stray kids fanfiction#lee know#godslino#first date series
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Healing one cut at a time
Summary : Clarisse first goes to the med bay because she is forced by one of her siblings but the following times are just to see the daughter of Apollo again.
Requests are open!
Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989
“I told you; I am fine!”, you can hear someone grumble from behind you but you turn back to the twelve-year-old girl in front of you that had fallen and twisted her ankle.
“And I am telling you that you should just go to make sure it is fine,” as you turn around to find what the squabbling is all about, you find Clarisse and one of her brothers glaring at each other.
You couldn’t help but swallow hard at the sight of Clarisse, she had her hair down after capture the flag, and somehow still looked beautiful after running around for three hours.
Clearing your throat, you smiled awkwardly at the two Ares children who looked surprised at your sudden appearance.
“How can I help you?”, you ask softly, after a few seconds of awkward silence. Clarisse seems struck as she watches you with wide eyes, her brother has a smirk as he turns back to you.
“Right, this one was hurt during capture the flag and although it doesn’t look too bad, we just wanted to be sure.”, he says, and you can see Clarisse coming back to herself at her brother’s words.
“You wanted to be sure,” she says with a scowl on her lips, and even then, you can’t stop thinking that she looks stunning.
“Well let’s just make sure, we never know,” you tell them before nodding towards the small bed in the corner.
She doesn’t look so hurt, so you’re surprised to see a cut in her leg, probably done by a sword but she doesn’t look affected at all.
“The good news is that it doesn’t look too deep so I just need to disinfect it and it will be all new after that,” you tell the two as you look over the cut.
As you look up from the wound you see a wide-eyed Clarisse staring back at you, rosy cheeks and owlish brown eyes making your stomach flutter.
“Great!”, you hear suddenly as her brother claps in his hands making the both of you jump in surprise.
“I’ll go get the product.”, you quickly whisper, feeling slightly embarrassed at having been caught looking at the girl.
You can hear the both of them arguing, particularly Clarisse scowling her brother, while he seems far too happy to be in the med bay.
“Someone needs to push you,” you hear him say before you arrive and the both of them turn to you, their conversation suddenly over.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” you can’t help but say and the both of them shake their heads in disagreement.
“You didn’t!”, her brother says, and you nod slowly before taking the product and softly taking Clarisse leg in your hand.
“This might hurt a little,” you warn her even though you know that the girl will probably not show any type of weakness.
You whisper a few words under your breath as you pass the product on her cut and after a moment it starts healing itself.
“There you go, all new,” you say, and Clarisse seems a bit disappointed at the sight.
“Right, thank you I guess.”, she says after clearing her throat.
“Thank you for the help! We better get going,” he says before taking Clarisse with him, the girl looking back one last time with a timid smile, one that you would’ve never thought you would see Clarisse wearing.
--
She was being stupid, she knew it, hell her whole cabin knew it too, but she just couldn’t stop going to see you at the med bay. She would use every excuse possible, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and you sweet smile.
“Clarisse, what happened this time?”, she hears you ask, your voice like music to her ears.
“My idiot of a brother didn’t watch where he was throwing his arrow,” she says, feeling slightly ashamed of the fact that she had been here every day until you smile at her warmly.
“Come sit down, I’ll look over it,” she does as is said and can’t help but feel a little excited at the prospect of you taking care of her.
She didn’t want to feel weak, and the way she felt weak at your touch made her scared, but she couldn’t help coming back and having your whole attention solely focused on her. Her father would probably be telling her that she was weak but when you would talk with her softly, as to not disturb the sleeping children, she couldn’t help but forget all about him.
“You’re beautiful,” she realizes she has said the words before she can think not to say them. There is a loud silence, as you look at her slightly in shock, like a fish out of water.
You open your mouth to say something but before she let’s you have the opportunity to respond she fled the scene. Her face is hot with shame and embarrassment at her slip up, already making a plan at how to best escape the situation, and you specifically. That is until she feels a hand on her arm, making her turn around to face you.
You look slightly breathless from having ran after her, but you still look as beautiful as the first day she had seen you. She had fallen for you the moment she saw you; her siblings had quickly caught onto her crush and as much as they teased her, they would often tell her in the quiet of the night that she should go for it, go for the little sunshine that she could have.
“You often leave a conversation without letting the other person answer?”, she hears you say, making her look at you in surprise.
“Guess I didn’t know how you would react,” she can’t help but say as she looks into your sad eyes.
“Well, maybe if you had stayed a bit longer you could have heard my response,” you say with a soft smile.
“What is that?”, the curiosity is killing her, but she also feels scared for the first time in a long time.
“That I think that you are beautiful, probably a thousand more times than me,” she hears you say, and she suddenly feels breathless at your words but can’t help but disagree with a scoff.
“Please, you are the most beautiful woman, even Aphrodite herself would be jealous of your beauty,” the words are filled with passion, a passion that she usually only held for fighting and capture the flag. The surprise in your eyes make her feel suddenly shy, but as you get closer to her, she gets a whiff of your perfume making her relax slightly.
“That is probably not true but thank you,” you whisper, now closer to her than you have been before, but she still scoffs as she hears you disagree with her previous statement.
She gets ready to argue but before she can start, she feels your lips against hers, and for a moment she can’t think. Her stomach is bursting with butterflies and the smell of you is all around her.
Just as she feels you stopping the kiss, she wraps her hands around your cheeks, bringing you into a passionate kiss, hoping to make you understand everything she feels for you.
“You drive me crazy, sunshine,” she whispers, breathless, after the most dizzying kiss and she wants to kiss you again until she has no air in her lungs.
Your small giggle makes her smile and peck your lips softly.
“Who knew you could be so sweet La Rue,” she hears you whisper teasingly against her lips, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at your words.
“Only for you. Better keep this to yourself because it could ruin my reputation,” she says, a small warning in her voice but you just nod in agreement.
“We should go back to the med bay to look at that cut of yours,” she hears you say, a worried tone coating your words.
“Don’t worry beautiful, I’m fine. The only thing I need right know is you close to me and kisses,” she says as she brings you even closer by the waist, with a smirk as she sees you blushing.
“That can be arranged,” you whisper against her lips before she brings you back into another mind-blowing kiss.
#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy series#clarisse la rue#clarisse x reader#clarisse pjo#clarrise la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x fem reader
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I is for "I Knew It!"
summary: you and spencer are caught going out by an all-too-familiar face, causing the two of you to have a talk about the logistics of your relationship.
word count: 1.1k
warnings: the fluffiest fluff anyone has ever seen
“Hey hey, put that wallet away,” Spencer says as you pull your wallet out from your purse. He never let you pay for dinner, even though you begged every time. You will admit, it is nice to always have your dinner paid for, however, you felt bad having him spend so much money on you.
“No. I want to pay tonight. You always pay,” you said and opened your wallet.
“My payment is having the world’s prettiest girlfriend. I’m paying for dinner, that's final.” He gently grabs your wrist from across the table, stopping you from making any further moves with the wallet. “Got it?”
“Fine, but I’m buying you a coffee in the morning.” You put the wallet back in your purse and give Spencer a smile. You playfully click your shoes with his underneath the table and take a final sip of your drink. Spencer places a credit card on the small black booklet on the edge of the table.
The waitress comes and collects the booklet, giving the two of you a quick smile and says she’ll be right back.
Spencer hands her a five dollar and two one dollar bills as a tip, and she makes her way to the register.
Spence lets go of your wrist and points his finger at you. “You,” he says, waves his finger at you as he says the words, “should come hang out at my apartment tonight.”
The waitress comes back and hands Spencer his card. “You guys have a good night,” she says as she backs up to let the two of you out of the booth then proceeding to clear off the table.
Spencer laces his hand with yours as the two of you weave through tables to exit the restaurant. “We can watch a movie or something,” he leans into your ear as you walk.
“I would love to, Spence,” you say and open the door to exit.
“Spencer Reid?” a familiar woman's voice says as the two of you walk out hand-in-hand. You feel his grip tighten.
The woman was blonde and pregnant. She was with a thin goateed man.
“Oh, hey JJ,” Spencer says, stopping his step. “How’s it going?”
“Great, I can’t believe you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me!” JJ looks at you, her mouth immediately becoming agape. “Y/N?”
Yeah, no one knew you and Spencer were seeing each other.
“Hey, JJ…” You say, happy to see her, but in a little bit of an awkward situation.
“How long? How long has this been going on?” She says, looking over at her boyfriend, Will excitedly.
“Um about a month,” you begin to say before being interrupted by Mr. Exact.
“35 days,” Spencer says matter-of-factly.
“That’s crazy! Oh my god I can’t believe this. Does anyone else know?” JJ would probably be jumping for joy right now if she wasn’t 9 months pregnant. Will just looked at her lovingly.
“No, we haven’t told anyone yet, we wanted to wait until our relationship was solid.” Spencer said, letting go of your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist.
“Seems pretty solid to me,” you say under your breath and lean into Spencer.
“You have to tell the team! They’d be so excited,” JJ exclaims.
“Yeah, we’re going to, we’re just not sure when.” Spencer says.
“It better be before I come back from maternity leave. If you guys aren’t BAU official by the Christmas party you will be sorry.” JJ playfully threatens before being dragged to the door by Will who waves goodbye.
You and Spencer begin walking to his car. “You know, That felt good. To finally tell someone,” you said and lean further into Spencer as your steps match up.
“Yeah, it did,” Spencer says, “What movie do you want to watch?”
“The Red Circle is always good.”
“Yeah, but I think I want to watch more of an immature movie. I need a break.”
“How about WALL-E?”
“WALL-E sounds awesome.”
Spencer let go of your waist when you reached his car. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you in by your hand, then hurried around to get in the car himself.
_____
“I think we should tell the team,” Spencer says. You were sat between his legs on his couch leaned against his shoulder. One of his arms was wrapped around you, the other hand was playing with your hair. He halted his movements once the words came out of his mouth. It was almost as if he didn’t mean to say it outloud.
“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. The lighting from the t.v. hit his face, bringing attention to the rosy blush bleeding through his cheeks.
“I um… I want to tell the team we’re together,” he repeats. Your mouth falls open, unsure of what to say. “I know it’s early, but I just, I don’t want to have to hide you from them. You’re so special to me.”
“Spencer…”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to yet, I know it could put a lot of pressure on a new relationship, but I…”
You need to shut him up. You lean in and plant a kiss on his lips, letting your breath linger on his mouth. “No, if you’re ready to tell everyone, I’ll be there every step of the way.” His eyes light up. He looks so happy.
“I’m so lucky to have you.” He leans his head into your shoulder and gently pecks a kiss on your collarbone. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He looks up at you and smiles, resting his chin against your chest.
You loved when he let you baby him like this. It took him a while to be comfortable enough to let his guard down like this around you, but once he was able to, he basically never stopped. He loved being able to have someone to care for him as it was something he never experienced, even as a child.
WALL-E is playing in the background, the scene where he is showing EVE around his house illuminating the room. Spencer looks up at you, eyes glowing. He nuzzles into your chest, careful not to bump your breasts. He was so respectful; the sweetest boy.
“What, Spencer?” you ask, keeping your voice smooth and calm. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but you had to make sure not to seem annoyed as he was sensitive.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, then buries his head in the crook of your neck.
That’s not what he wants to say, but you comb your fingers through his hair and say, “thank you.” You feel him mumble something into your chest. “What, baby?” you ask him.
“Y/n,” he says, you hum in response, “I think I’m in love with you.”
You can’t help but smile. “I think I’m in love with you, too, Spence,” you say, grabbing his chin and leading his face up to kiss him.
______
next chapter: J is for "Just So You Know"
a/n: hiii :3 i'm currently on break from school and have the next two days off from work, i'm going to try to grind so hard and try my best to get the christmas part out on the 25th, but if that doesn't happen please don't get upset at me... it will 100% be out in december, as the new years part is for sure being posted on the 31st. have an awesome night guys !!
taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff
@ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie
@spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13 @hades-disappointment-child @aceofspades190 @taygrls @hookergutss
@random-3455 @nmw-am @bookworm124 @hizzielover @jem08 @cherrybowbabby @theofficialfunk
@hookergutss @skylions-den @smalltownbeautyqueen @spencereidapologist @lunajay33 @novaeatsworld @pleasantwitchgarden
@mellowdreamerbanana @readbydayana
#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x bau!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader
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City Seven
Pairing: Jungkook x Waitress! Reader
Word Count: 2k
Content Warning: reader is kind of unfiltered, judgy! reader, quiet! jungkook, pierced! jungkook, inspired by the seven mv, judging a book by its cover, obessed! jungkook, ft jimin, reader eats her words, jungkook is a little cocky.
Other Content
Jungkook is filthy and a little mean, big dick! jungkook, dom! jungkook, strength kink, unprotected sex (don’t even), jungkook has a high sex drive, brat tamer! jungkook?, hair pulling.
»»————- ★ ————-««
“Y/n!” Laura practically shouts your name as she walked into the bustling kitchen where you collected three main courses, balancing two on your palms and the last one on your forearm.
You’d become pretty competent as a waitress after being one for the last three years, balancing the meals and listening to Laura was an easy feat. “What?” You lean in to hear her clearly as the sound of clanging pots and yelled orders were swirling in the air.
“Let me take this table from you, serve table 4.” Your brows furrowed as you felt Laura help herself to take the plates from you. “W-what are you doing?” You stop her from taking the last plate from you, curious to know what she was up to.
“Just trust me. They ordered two old fashions, now go!” She says as if she was bursting with anticipation. You let her take the last plate from you, a little disappointed because the family you were serving seemed like they were going to leave a good tip but you trusted Laura. Sort of.
Once you got hold of the two alcoholic beverages you leaned into the swinging door with your hip and walked through heading to table 4, and once you spotted Jimin sitting there you knew something was up.
“Two old fashions.” You smile, placing them down gently while making sure nothing spilled. You put Jimin’s down first and for the first time made eye contact with the unfamiliar brunette.
He smiles at you. “Y/n, this is my friend, Jungkook.” You smile back to be polite. “It’s nice to meet you.” Your expression showed kindness but in your heart, you were more than ready to kill Laura.
She was always trying to hook you up with someone while on the job. Either way, he wasn’t really your type, he seems too quiet and soft-spoken. Your type was the kind of guy that was more outgoing and could take control.
Before you could ask the two what they wanted to order you felt a light grip on your bicep tugging you away near the bathrooms. “Laura! What are you doing? I’m trying to do my job.” You weren’t sure if you had said those words out loud based on the way she completely disregarded your words and replaced them with her own.
“He’s cute right?” She inquires and your brows furrow almost immediately at her jumpiness. “Who?” You were playing dumb and it was obvious.
Laura deadpans. “You know who I’m talking about. Jungkook, obviously. He’s cute right?” Her smile creeps its way back onto her face as she speaks but you back away from her leaning against the wall that you had no idea Jungkook was listening through.
“I mean, yeah sure but he looks too..” Jungkook’s brow raises as he waited for you to find the words. “nice.” You finish. “He looks like he’s a nice guy, y’know? The kind that holds the door and cries when he comes.” Both his and Laura’s jaws drop in astonishment. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Laura covers her mouth giggling with a snort but she soon starts to pout.
“You really don’t think he’s cute?” She asks again and you groan. Laura was insufferable, she just did not know when to give up. “I never said that. Maybe in the country, he’s a 10, but here, he’s a city 7 at best.” Jungkook had heard enough and made his way back to his seat.
Never in his entire life had he been ranked anything below a 10, he’s even scored a few 12s but a city 7? How could you? He knew he was a 10. He deserves a 10. Not to mention your little comment about him crying when he comes; he was going to make sure you ate your words.
He made sure to lay it on thick for the rest of the night. Dark stares and suggestive comments, so much so that Jimin had to excuse himself twice just to give you both privacy.
Whether you wanted to admit it or not this city 7 was starting to grow on you. He had a sarcastic sense of humour paired with an enchanting smile. You supposed you could give him a chance.
One chance was all he needed.
3 weeks and two dates later the two of you found yourselves stumbling into your apartment, with Jungkook kissing you desperately as you both kicked your shoes off and he shrugged off his jacket all while you led him to the bedroom but you paused in your steps at the revelation of his sleeve of tattoos.
you had no idea these were hiding beneath his denim jackets and turtlenecks. if you’d known about the tattoos and the bulging muscles that were covered up so well, you never would’ve called him a 7. He’s a total 10, and he was about to prove it to you.
“W-wha-” you loosely pointed your finger to his muscular physique as he worked on undoing his belt. he grins wickedly as he glances up, relishing in the victorious feeling of seeing you go awestruck at the sight of his body.
he steps towards you slowly, the branded waistband of his boxers peeking over his jeans. “what? never seen a few tattoos before?” he smiles in that same pleasing way he always does and it irks you, because you know he knows what he’s doing.
all this time you’ve been underestimating him. “what-- when, how- “ he gently cups your face and whispers against your lips, “You ask too many questions.” that was the last thing you heard before his lips were on yours again.
The kiss was unlike any of the tender and sweet ones from before. this one was hungry, messy and bordering animalistic. The way his tongue worked with yours in an erotic harmony made you forget all about your presumptions of him when you first met him. he may be quiet but he most certainly wasn’t shy, especially not now.
he laid you down on the bed and he kissed all over your body. abusing your sweet spot that was below your ear. the sounds of your heavy breathing that slowly but surely morphed into breathy moans were only inflating his ego. if he could get you this desperate just from his mouth he knew he could absolutely ruin you with his cock.
for you on the other hand the last 45 minutes seem to have been a blur. One minute you and jungkook were out at the bar listening to the jazz band fill the room with an undeniably sensual ambience. you were feeling a bit bold and let your heel run up the inseam of his pants under the table.
and he’d warned you to stop since you were in public but you were in a defiant mood and continued anyways. pressing down his cock with the tip of your stilettos watching his accessorized fist ball up the tablecloth in an attempt to bite back his groan. within seconds you felt his grip around your ankle and push your foot down before abruptly standing up.
not without discreetly adjusting himself in his slacks but of course you noticed it. “Get up. We’re leaving.” he orders but you pouted, “but I wanted to listen to the music.” The look he gave you was like none other he’d seen before. you were used to pushing his buttons, it was just in your nature to piss him off but he usually didn’t care much or if he did he didn’t show it.
“Now.” you roll your eyes and followed him out of the bar.
It's thanks to your previous behaviour that jungkook had decided to edge you twice on his fingers and tongue. you were squirming and insufferable forcing him to pin your thighs down with his arms as he continued to eat you out like a man starved.
“ju-jungkook! please-” you begged, refusing to look at the man between your legs, staring up at the tear-blurred ceiling instead. “Please what? What do you want?” He’s an evil man for asking you such a question and cutting you off with the works of his tongue once again leading you to scream out.
you sounded like sin, wrapped in a body that was clearly shaped by the gods above and gifted to him personally. “let me cum--please!” He pulls away from you right when he felt you were on the edge again, pushing down on your legs as he felt you begin to thrash around.
“stay still princess, or I won’t let you cum.” the name was doing you wonders and you swore you could see stars. “please, I’ve been good.” and jungkook just has to laugh, because what a fucking liar you are. “Really? Do you think teasing me out in public is being good? Why should I let you cum hm? Aren’t I just a City 7? Only 10′s can make you cum right?”
your eyes shot open wide and for the first time you looked down at him in shock, “y-you heard me-” he didn’t give you the chance to respond before he was abusing your clit with his tongue bringing you over the edge so quickly your body could hardly process it. you came with the scream of his name.
“Look who’s crying when they cum.” he mocks you, throwing your own words back in your face.
Without a break, you were being manhandled and flipped over onto your stomach as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. your back arching at the intrusion of the swollen head of his cock pushing between your folds. jungkook had to brace himself as he thrust inside your soaked cunt.
a deep groan falls from his lips at the feeling he’d been searching for for weeks. He’s dreamt about this moment for weeks, way before you even knew who he was. When he’d seen pictures of you and Jimin at Laura’s place he knew he had to have you.
“ooh fuck!” you moan once jungkook bottomed out, you hadn’t realized just how thick he was until you felt his cock split you open all around “yeah, you like that?” You nod repeatedly, unable to speak. Your arms were feeling weak and soon your head was flush against your pillows.
“Answer me, baby.” he grunts, punctuating his demands with a particularly powerful snap of his hips. one that sent the fat of your ass rippling with each thrust. “yes! fuck! I love it, love your cock, please don’t stop.” you whine loudly taking everything he gave you.
That only encouraged him to absolutely drill into your poor pussy, the sounds of your bare flesh slapping against one another ricocheted off the walls and back into your ears. you had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into with him. you felt yourself inching closer and closer to that ecstasy, you were so close you could taste and jungkook could most certainly feel it.
the way your walls convulsed around him nearly restricting his range of motion, “Ah shit baby, you feel so fucking good.” he groans next to your ear, the tone of his voice sending you into shock. god you were so close, but jungkook was slowing down. “why-”
“you wanna cum?” he asks you, and you nod as if you were on autopilot. “please,” you beg for the nth time. “Then take it back.” you really tried your best to understand what he was referring to. “Take back what you said about me being a city 7” you hesitated for a minute, regaining enough strength to hold yourself up again, fighting between your bratty nature and your throbbing pussy.
“Okay fine, you can get yourself off.” he shrugs, beginning to pull out but you push your hips back up against his pelvis. “No- no!” he grins at the sound of your objections, resuming his wild pace as though he had never stopped.
he pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, his erratic thrusts never faltering as he did so, “Say it.” he growls in your ear and your eyes roll back as you felt his cock rub against a certain spot within you, “I take it back! You’re a 10, everything about you is a 10, you’re a 10- fuck! please let me cum!” he smiles, satisfied with your words.
“Cum.” you didn’t hold back, you came down with a piercing moan that you’re sure your neighbours would be complaining about tomorrow morning, jungkook following closely behind you.
--
Initially, you’d thought you and Jungkook’s little night would be a one-time thing but he just couldn’t seem to stay away from you, no matter how hard he tried.
His dick begged to see you again, and he made sure he did.
At Jimin’s birthday party, he had you bent over the bathroom counter, he would come over and fuck you against the wall, holding you up steady as ever as he pounded into you. Every second of every day he found a way to be inside you.
That’s how you found yourself tangled up in his sheets the morning after one of the filthiest nights you’d ever experienced with a guy. “Good morning,” you heard Jungkook whisper in the rasp of his morning voice as he kissed your collarbones. Slowly making his way up your neck, “Jungkook, aren’t you tired?”
He shrugs with a foolish grin, “Why would I be? I’ll never get tired of fucking your brains out.” You laugh, “Really? Never?” He shakes his head.
“Seven days a week.”
#jungkook#bts#bts one shot#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook ff#btssmuts#bts ff#jungkook fic recs#bts fic recs#jungkook oneshots#jungkook drabble#drabble#Smut#fluff#seven jungkook#bts fic#jungkook boyfriend#dom jungkook#jungkook x reader#bts fanfic#jungkook fanfic
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Pairing -Joel Miller x F!reader
Summary-Joel wants to be the first
CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, oral (f) receiving, established relationship, no outbreak Joel late 40’s, reader is unspecified legal age, reader is not described, inexperienced but not a virgin, soft dom joel, shy reader, joel is obsessed with you, pet names galore, joel is the king of patience and eating pussy
WC-1.4k
A/N- The Joel brain rot has taken over. This was inspired by one of my fav spicy songs I’ll tag the link at the end.
[Joel Masterlist][Main Masterlist]
Not beta read
Kisses down low
His initial reaction when you’d told him was very much a Joel reaction. It startled you at first how angry he seemed, not at you of course.
“Whadya’ mean no one’s ever done that before?”
You just shrugged it off a little ashamed for whatever reason. He noticed your obvious discomfort and you shrinking in on yourself and he certainly couldn’t have that. He calmed down a bit and asked you to explain. Your first real boyfriend didn’t think it was worth his time and another partner made you feel self conscious about it so you just stopped asking.
Joel had to take a few deep breaths through his nose and cursed the idiots who passed up the opportunity to appreciate you the way he knew you deserved. You never passed up the chance to show him how much you loved and cared for him. It was hard in the beginning for him to understand someone could love him so unconditionally, even with all his flaws and shortcomings. In the short time you’d known each other you brought out this side of him he thought had been long dormant. He had more patience, a lust for life that he thought was lost when Sarah moved away for college.
He’d reassured you that he was willing to wait as long as you needed him to until you felt ready.
You could tell he was doing his very best to be patient. Every time you were intimate with each other he’d give you his best puppy dog eyes as he rested his head on your stomach, waiting and hoping maybe this time would be a yes. Even through the no’s he could tell you we’re entertaining the idea. Letting it roll around in your head that Joel would never make you feel ashamed or embarrassed.
“I promise I’ll make ya feel good sugar.” He rasps against your ear as he lays all his weight on top of you. He stopped trying to fight you when you’d told him how it grounded you after sex to have his broad body pressing you into the mattress.
“I know it’s just…I can’t get out of my head.” You gasp as he rolls you over on top of him.
“That’s exactly what I’m tryin’ to do…get you out of that pretty little head of yours and let me take care of you.” His voice is desperate as his hands rub up and down your back. It wasn’t often you got Joel in the position to beg so you decided next time you would trust him to do what he said.
****
“Just relax baby girl.” His deep husky voice is muffled as he lays kisses to your thighs. He’s been slowly undressing you, making sure you were thoroughly distracted.
Your breath stutters a little as his strong hands knead at your breast. His fingers tease your nipple and the whine that leaves your mouth already has him desperate to have you making more of those sounds.
“Joel…what’s it feel like?” You ask, feeling a little nervous again.
He rests his head on your thigh while he continues rubbing soothing circles along your side and your arms. In all his years he’s never practiced this much restraint with anyone. He’s never wanted anything so bad in his life and he’ll be damned if you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable with what he’s about to do to you.
“Why don’t ya think about it like a kiss.” You nod your understanding as he hooks his finger with one hand and taps your hips to have you lift them. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and grinds his hips into the mattress at the sight of you.
Joel’s got you so worked up you can feel the slick dripping out of you onto the mattress below. You’ve never felt so protected and yet so vulnerable. So exposed and also powerful at the same time.
“Jesus…you’re prettier than a peach.”
You chuckle a little at his words and the fact that you don’t think he meant to say it out loud.
His broad shoulders settle between your thighs as his thumbs spread you open. You can feel his warm breath fan across your lips and just that sensation has your head dropping back against the pillow. He doesn’t mean to laugh but he had no idea how sensitive you’d be…he’s barely touched you and you’re shaking like a leaf.
Joel’s rock hard in his jeans, not having bothered to strip down. When you said you were ready he only had one thing on his mind and it damn sure wasn’t gettin’ comfortable. All he’s been able to think about the last few weeks is how he’ll be the first one to claim you, to taste you and make you come apart on his tongue. In his mind he already owns you and your willingness to submit to him has him daydreaming more than he’d care to admit.
“You ready sweetheart?” His voice is almost unrecognizable as he stares at his prize already soaking wet for him.
You nod feverishly as his mouth descends on you. You suck in a breath as his tongue wastes no time working you open. His strong hands grip your thighs as he licks and sucks at your clit. You’re so keyed up it feels like you’re embarrassingly close to your first orgasm as you clamp your hand over your mouth to quiet your moans.
One of his hands reaches up to you as he clasps his fingers in yours. “Nuh uh baby girl, I’ve been waitin’ ages for this. I want to hear all those little noises you make.”
He dives back in, his big nose rubs at your clit while his tongue dips into your hole. A high pitched whine leaves your mouth as you instinctively reach down with your other hand to tug at his curls. He’s growling into your pussy, so drunk off you and the way you taste. “Fuck Joel…please.” You whimper into the air as you buck your hips, seconds from cresting over.
Joel’s never been so turned on by the sounds you’re making. He can tell you’re close and the swell of pride in his chest that you’ve fully let go for him is something he can’t describe. He almost feels bad for what he’s about to put you through because there’s no way he’s going back to the way things were before. Your poor little pussy is gonna be so abused by the time he’s had his fill of you.
“Come on baby.” His eyes meet yours as you fight to keep your head up. He knows you can do it, he can feel the way your thighs clench around his head. He wants to see if you can without his fingers, wants to watch you fall apart on his tongue as he wrings every last drop of rational thought from your brain.
His tongue circles your clit in swift motions as you let out an inaudible whine. Your head drops back between your shoulders as your heels dig into his back. You can barely get out his full name as your climax rocks into you, your vision is sparkly behind your eyes as you hear him whispering sweet words far off in the distance.
It takes you both a moment to catch your breath as he places kisses along your thighs just resting his head there. Not even wanting to bother with the damp spot on the mattress where he came with you. He doesn’t even care or feel embarrassed when he can’t remember the last time he felt this good.
“Joel…” Your voice is a little hoarse as you clear your throat.
“Ya sugar.”
“Can we…do that again?”
He huffs out a laugh in a small moment of triumph. “Anytime you want.”
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#joel miller fluff#joel tlou#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller fanfic#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel the last of us#tlou fic#joel x reader#dom joel miller#pedro pascal
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