Fallen Angel Billy
I wanted to try doing something a bit more painterly for practice, based on the painting by Alexandre Cabanel. I’m thinking of submitting this to Dacre’s fan project but I’m still undecided!
spring break- e.m (pt 3)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader
Summary: you and your friends decide to go on a trip together. only problem is you’re surrounded by couples…and your nemesis
Warnings: enemies-to-lovers, angst, bullying, fighting, jealousy, confrontation, eddie being a sweetie pants, happy ending :), not proof read tbh
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: here she is, part three as requested. i hope you all enjoyed this little mini series, i had a lot of fun writing it :)- sava
part one | part two | part three
With the slam of you car door and the grip of your backpack becoming tighter, you begin to walk towards the double doors of Hawkins High once again. With spring break officially over, you were in the home stretch of finishing high school, still undecided on where you might be continuing your academic career. With the events that transpired at the cabin over break, your mind was telling you Stanford was the only real option. The school would be an amazing opportunity, but so would Notre Dame. The only real plus of moving to California was not having to see Eddie Munson ever again.
During the last days of your trip, you ultimately decided staying in your room would be the best way for you not to lose your cool anymore. Everyone seeing you cry and Eddie rejecting you hard was the cherry on top of the shit sundae you were dealt, and thought retreating into yourself and the abyss of loneliness that you were all too familiar with was the only route to go. On the rare occasion you joined the group, you completely ignored the metalhead, his words directed towards you met with silence or the scoldings of your friends. They knew you weren’t in the mood to deal with his shit anymore, and you thought Eddie would pick up on that too.
Once you got home, you stayed in your childhood bedroom for the remainder of the break, only coming out to watch the occasional movie with your mom or dad and eat to make sure you didn’t die. Countless phone calls came in to your home phone, Robin, Nancy, and Steve checking in on you to see how you were holding up. You always brushed them off, either rushing them off the phone or not answering at all. You knew deep down they didn’t want to keep dealing with this shit between you and Eddie either, considering you two practically ruined the trip, even if your friends never said that.
Pulling open the doors, you’re met with the same loud nonsense that always occupied the halls of your school, only now you saw it as more of an annoyance rather than something you could always look back on and laugh about. You make your way through the crowded hallway and towards you locker, opening it to stuff your backpack inside and grab the books you need to get through the first few periods of the day. With a sigh, you close the metal door and turn around, making quick movements towards your first class of the day.
As you watch the other students pass by you, you see the face of the man who made the last week or so of your life a living hell with fake promises and hurtful words barreling towards you. He looks up and meets your eye contact for a moment, before your eyes quickly make friends with the floor beneath you as you watch your feet pick up the pace. He wore a sad expression on his face, his lips curved down in a frown you weren’t that used to seeing on his face, with his big personality always finding a way to make him and those around him smile. Except for you.
You weren’t sure why you cared or thought about him as much as you did. The years he had spent making your life a living hell put you in so much pain, as did the night in the town along that cobblestone path. You never understood why Nancy’s brother, Mike, always talked about Eddie with such fascination, his eyes always beaming as he discussed the campaigns the metalhead would plan or the theatrics he pulled throughout the day. That was, until you saw the softer side of Eddie when the two of you had sex.
The way he cradled your head and held you close when the two of you laid down in bed together after you finished. The attention he gave you as he pleasured you with his tongue and fingers, the thought always sending chills up your spine. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you about how sorry he was for hurting you with his mean comments earlier that night. There was a soft side to Eddie that not a lot knew about. Until he built up that wall again and let his devilish demeanor reign true.
You slide into your desk for your morning math class, opening your notebook and tapping your pencil against it as you waited for the rest of the students to file in. Being this early to class was never your style, opting to talk with Nancy and Robin in the mornings before the initial bell rang. You knew with your distant attitude you would be better off just waiting for the day to get started and trying to make your way through it, not being the best conversationalist with your depressing demeanor.
You look at the clock and notice no one else has entered the classroom. You knew there were people who would get to class much earlier than you ever did, but seeing no one in here yet when there was about 15 minutes until the official school day began? That was unheard of.
You watch figures zoom down the hallway, girls giggling and other students yelling as the flew by the classroom. You slide out of your desk and approach the door, seeing a crowd of people gathered at the end of the hall. From your other side, more and more students charging at the opportunity to see what’s happening, making you more suspicious than you were before. You see a girl who you actually have math class with and stop her for a moment.
“Do you know what’s going on down there?” You ask, nodding your head towards the swarm of students.
“Heard there’s a fight going on, so I’m checking it out for myself. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and Brad ‘the babe magnet’ Smith. C’mon!” She exclaimed, taking your hand and running down the hallway with you.
Eddie and Brad? In a fight?
Your feet move quickly alongside your classmate as you grow closer and closer to the commotion, finally picking up on the dialogue between the two boys as you see their figures. Eddie has Brad pressed against the lockers, his fists balled in Brad’s varsity jacket.
“Take it back,” Eddie spit out, his voice seething as his face was mere inches from Brad’s, reminding you of all the times he’s gotten close to you while throwing insults your way.
“Why should I Munson? Thought you hated Y/N,” Brad replies, a sinister smile plastered on his face. You watched as Brad’s knee quickly makes contact with Eddie’s groin, causing him to let go and wince in pain. Brad takes his vulnerable moment and lands a punch against his cheek, knocking Eddie down to the floor on his knees.
Did Brad just say your name?
Were the two fighting…about you?
“Doesn’t mean you should say that stuff about people,” Eddie finally replies, clear pain etched in his voice. Brad laughs and takes another swing at Eddie, which he ultimately ducks at.
“It’s true though. Everyone around us agrees that she’s probably the biggest slut in the school. Hell, I’m surprised you have hit that yourself, freak,” he says. Eddie rushes to his feet and dives at Brad, throwing a punch his way with his left fist, knowing it’ll hurt thanks to the three rings that reside on his knuckles.
You felt frozen in time as you watching the two boys continue to throw punches and insults at one another. Why was Brad saying these nasty things about you? You’ve only been with 3 guys total before you and Eddie hooked up on the trip, thinking about how that’s not nearly as bad as the amount of notches Steve Harrington has under his belt. But I guess that classic double standard for women applies here just like it does everywhere else.
But the most confusing part of this fight? Why was Eddie, out of all people, trying to defend your honor?
Another punch is thrown Brad’s way, but he catches it mid air, laughing to himself as he looks at the anger on Eddie’s face. Your breath hitches as you watch Brad twist his arm behind him, Eddie letting out a painful yelp as the jock brings his face close to Eddie’s ear from behind.
“I bet the whole basketball team could just pass her around like some used up little play thing at this point,” he says, causing the whole crowd to fall into a hush at his words. You felt eyes from different points in the now formed circle looking towards you, the classmate who dragged you along scooting away from you as she watched your reactions. Eddie’s free elbow reaches back and slams into Brad’s stomach, causing him to let go and for Eddie to have the upper hand. Brad’s features twist in anger as he charges for Eddie once more, landing another hit to his jaw. You shake yourself out of whatever trance you were in and let out a deep breath. You were the one who needed to end this.
You step forward and sandwich yourself between the two boys along with a few of the Hellfire boys who had come just shortly before, trying your best to break up the fight. You and the boys start tugging at his arms in an attempt to get away from Brad, with Brad’s former football teammates doing the same for him. You watch Brad breathe heavily, his eyes darting between you and Eddie, everyone staying silent as the circle begins to disperse, the bell warning everyone to retreat to the safety of their classrooms. With a sigh, you turn around and face Eddie for the first time in over a week, his cheeks pink and lip busted.
Shaking your head, you grab his arm and lead him to an empty science classroom you knew nobody would be in during the first period of the day.
“Sit,” you demand, pointing to the lab counter as you run to the back of the room. You gather a few paper towels and run them under one of the sinks in the room, ringing it out a bit before coming back to Eddie and placing the towels on his cheek. He’s quick to wince at the feeling of pressure against the sensitive skin, but you hold out your hand, trying your best to keep calm as you move his hand to where yours was, silently telling him to keep holding the towel there.
You step back for a moment and begin to pace back in forth in front of him, your mind running at a thousand miles a minute as you try to collect your thoughts. It felt as if you could barely process the entirety of what just happened, your critical thinking becoming impaired as you replay the fight over and over in your head. You stop in your tracks and direct your attention back to Eddie, whose eyes are as wide as dinner plates watching you.
You walk back closer to him and begin hitting him in the chest, the anger you’ve built up over the course of the past week finally getting the best of you and letting it all out. Why did he have to say those hurtful things to you? Why did he continue to try and push you with his little remarks he knew you hated? Why was he defending your honor to the asshole jocks of Hawkins High?
“Ow, ow, ow! What the hell, Y/N?” Eddie asks, bringing his free arm up the shield his chest for your fists, carefully swatting at you to stop. You huff in response and stop your actions, your face scrunched as you look at him.
“What the hell me? I should be asking you that, asshole. What the hell were you thinking back there? You could’ve gotten seriously hurt Eddie,” you scream at him. Your breathing began to pick up, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as the anger starts pouring out of you.
“You didn’t hear what he was saying about you, Y/N. It was gross and nasty and I couldn’t just stand by and let him!” Eddie tries explaining to you, his voice sounding just as irritated as your own.
“Yeah, I got an idea of what he was saying during your little fight,” you tell him, stepping back from him and beginning to pace once more. “Besides, why do you even care? You don’t have to be some knight in shining armor for me. You were the one that said there wasn’t even an us to worry about.”
You watch as Eddie’s feature falter, his defensive expressions molding into a sad one, the curvature of his lips pointing in a harsh frown before he hangs his head in shame. Stopping your motions, you watch Eddie’s shoulders begin to move harshly, hearing a few sniffles.
Was Eddie Munson…crying?
“Eddie?” you ask, coming closer to him and tilting his head up a bit. You notice a few fresh tears sliding down his uncovered cheek, with a few trapped in his gorgeously long eyelashes. You knew you shouldn’t be getting this close to Eddie after everything he’s done, but that part of your brain, the same part that told you to go ahead with sleeping with him, told you to stay. The pad of your thumb comes in contact with the wet spots on his cheek, wiping them away as his eyes avoid your own.
“I’m an asshole,” he lets out, his voice full of hurt as he presses the damp towel into his skin more.
“I mean, I know that. Care to elaborate why?”
“I treated you so badly, Y/N. All the shit I’ve done to you. Not only just on the trip, but over the last few years. I’ve been so harsh and stupid, I couldn’t pull my own head out of my ass to see any real hurt I’d done. Not until that night you pulled me aside along that path,” he explains to you. Taking a few steps back, you watch as Eddie’s eyes finally meet your own, his sad doe eyes full of sincerity.
“Then why did you?” you question. You cross your arms and stare at him, trying to hold the ground you’ve been building up over the course of a week. “I mean, what could possibly make you treat someone as badly as you treated me over the years?”
“Because I don’t know how to handle these feelings I have for you, Y/N!” He exclaims. You press a finger to your lips as you shush him, trying to be quieter. You wanted to hear him out, for him to explain why he did what he did. The answers you’ve dreamed of knowing ever since this all started a few years back were finally coming out and you wanted to finally get that closure, a great parting gift before college.
“I grew up in a broken home, never really knew what love felt like. I’ve been stuck with Wayne since I was a kid, and sure, he’s not an asshole, but I’ve never had that typical nuclear family that everyone seems to have around Hawkins. So when I saw you for the first time and started getting to know you, these new feelings started coming up and I didn’t know what to do with them. So I did what I always do and ran away from them,” he explains calmly.
You take a moment to sit on those words. Sure, you knew about his past and why he was with Wayne to begin with, but you had no idea it was such a big part of why he was who he was.
“That doesn’t explain why you slept with me,” you whisper out, breaking the eye contact and looking to the floor. You hear his feet plop to the ground and watch those bright white tennis shoes step closer to you.
“When I saw how hurt you were after what I said in the hot tub, I felt like shit. I let those emotions get the best of me and wanted to come comfort you. I used your own insecurities against you and for that I apologize. Knocking on your door and seeing you lumped in your ball of sadness, I thought maybe I could do it and finally tell you how I felt. Had no idea you’d sleep with me, that wasn’t part of my plan,” he explains, a giggle falling from your lips in the process.
“But then I got scared again. I saw your sleeping figure next to me and thought about how happy I’d be once you woke up next to me. Except nothing good happens to me. I’m a repeat senior who everyone in this town hates, and you’re one of the most accomplished people in the entire town. I couldn’t let my feelings for you hold you back from anything, because I so badly want to see you succeed.”
“Eddie that’s not true,” you try to tell him, looking up at his face once more. He shakes his head and lets out a nervous laugh, arm raising to play with his hair a bit.
“No, no it is. Which is why I left before you woke up. I honestly didn’t think you’d care as much as you did. But that night in the town it killed me not to run after you when we fought. I wanted to pry you from Harrington’s arms and take back everything I’d just said,” he takes his hand and tilts your chin up to look you dead in the eyes, making your heart rate pick up.
���I love you, Y/N. I know I have a funny way of showing it, but I can’t let you leave for California without knowing the truth and trying to make amends. I don’t want to us to start this next chapter in our lives without fixing the mess I’ve caused.”
Eddie Munson loves you.
He actually loves you.
“Y-you’re not just saying this to get in my pants again, right?” You sniffle out, bringing your free hand up to wipe your nose and a few stray tears. The mop of curls flow around him as he shakes his head no, making you smile wide. Standing on your tip toes, you press your lips to his and feel the familiar softness of his plush lips and the comforting taste of mint and cigarettes. He tugs at your waist, pulling you closer and you melt into his touch, the memories of your first kiss flooding back and bringing up all those initial feelings once again.
Pulling away slightly, you hold onto his shoulders as you look at his warm brown eyes, the dimples fading onto his face as that damn smile appears. You shake your head with a laugh and go up to kiss his redden cheek softly, careful not to put more pain on the swollen area.
“I hope you realize you’ll have a lot of making up to do, Munson,” you tell him. He laughs as he nods his head, continuing to hold you close to him.
“Believe me sweetheart, I will do anything to be in your good graces before you leave for California,” he tells you.
“Whoever said I was actually going to California?”
“Um…we all just assumed you would pick the better school? Y/N it’s fucking Stanford,” he tells you, backing away from you slightly to shoot you a deadpan look. He probably thought you were crazy, which you very well might be.
“Well now there are other factors to consider,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck as he groans and rolls his eyes, making you laugh at his dramatics for a change instead of being annoyed by them.
“Y/N I can’t let you-“
“Nope, Eddie shut up,” you tell him, bringing a finger to his lips in an attempt to keep him quiet. He goes to try and bite at your finger, making you squeal as he and you share a laugh. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Munson.”
“Well when you put it like that, how could I possibly be upset,” he says with his devilish smirk, one of his signature looks. You pull yourself off of him and hear groan once more. Tugging his arm along, you exit the classroom and being your journey down the hall.
“Where are we going? I liked being in there with you. Alone,” Eddie questions.
“We’re going to the nurse. You need some ice for your soon to be black eye.”
Would You Like Some Company - Part 3
I’m baaaaaaack. I think. I hope so anyway! Doing my best to work through my inbox (no hate, I’m trying!).
Part 3 to my smutty mini series, read part 1 here & part 2 here
Warnings: Smutttttttt, swearing
Pairing: Chris Evans x You, Chris Evans x Reader
Every single one of Chris’ nerves feels like it’s on fire. On edge, ready to explode at any second, burning with a hedonistic bliss that makes him feel like he’s coming apart at the seams. He’s hopelessly undecided, his brain struggling to hold any logical thought, his mind torn between giving in to the toe-curling feeling of release and wanting to continue feeling the delicious pleasure that seems to be radiating through his body in tidal waves.
He opens his eyes and lifts his head to look down at his feet, an almost pained groan sounding in his throat at the sight before him. You, Y/N, a fucking goddess on your knees in front of him, your mouth and fist working his pulsing length like a woman possessed. Chris can’t actually quite describe the feeling that’s all but radiating throughout his body, unsure if it’s the sight of you or the feel of your mouth on him that’s going to send him over the edge.
He watches your lips - lips he thinks, that were practically made to do this, plump and pillowy and sliding fucking perfectly up and down his pale, pink skin. The absolutely sinful sight of them wrapped deliciously tight around his length, the momentary glimpse of the shiny, slick-wet trail that’s left behind after each push and pull of your mouth.
Then there’s your hand - fingers wrapped snugly around him bordering almost too tight, your cherry red manicured nails flashing briefly with each rhythmic twist, pull and tug. Chris marvels at the way your hand and mouth work together in the most delicious fashion, tantalising as they move up and down in almost unison, fast and slow and then fast again. Chris’ mouth falls slack as he watches you, another low, rumbling groan sounding in his throat.
Chris watches you, unable to remember the last time he’s felt this fucking good. His hands wander to your hair, large palms cupping the back of your head, Chris’ breathing growing ragged with every passing moment. He feels you still momentarily at his contact and for a split second he worries that he shouldn’t have touched you, an electric shiver shooting down his spine when he suddenly sees you look up and meet his gaze. Wide and almost sparkling, a mischievous glint in your beautiful eyes, Chris is rendered all but speechless.
Fuck, he could die right here and now
He watches as you hold his gaze, hands and lips working in decadent rhythm along his thick length, every pull and push rushing him closer and closer to the edge. He can’t bring himself to look away, completely, utterly mesmerized by the sight of your sinfully gorgeous mouth working him over and over, and soon he can no longer help himself as his hands grip harder at your head.
He swears he can almost see you smile then, the way your vixen gaze holds him, knowing you’ve got him right on the edge, ready to lose all control, Chris’ chest heaving as he breathes. He’s got a decision to make and a split second to do so - give in to the bliss and find his release, or pull away and prolong it for just a little longer. He wrestles with his thoughts, his mind struggling to hold track, his heart now hammering in his chest as his hands guide you faster along his girth.
“Oh baby, fuck, yes” he exhales, letting out a body-shaking groan when he feels you speed up.
Devilish lips suck harder, sliding along him wet, hard and hot, your tongue soon joining in and swirling around his sensitive tip. Chris is done for, he knows it, his resolve falling through his fingers like sand, his heart thumping wildly and his entire body on fire as he feels it rising up and ready to crash down in a final blow. He wants to hold on, a minute, a second longer, but he’s struggling, losing all control, swirling rapidly like water down a drain.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Building and building, he can’t hold it any longer, Chris suddenly gripping hard and holding your head still, sheathing his thick length entirely in your throat. All of a sudden, he feels himself let go, finally giving in and finding his sweet, savoured release.
“Oh, baby, fuck, fuck, f----uckkkkkk”
His head drops back and all manner of words fall from his lips, your name all but groaned in the most animalistic way. He feels nothing but warmth, his muscles spasming as he empties himself into your throat, pleasure washing through his body in the most blissful feeling of release.
He allows himself a moment to collect himself but to him it feels more like minutes, releasing his grip on your hair and lifting his head to look back down at you as you slide off of him. The sight he’s rewarded with makes his whole body pulse, blood pumping so loud he can hear it in his ears.
You, sitting back on your knees on the floor, glistening eyes still trained intently on him above you, your hair loose, messy and incredibly fucking sexy. Your lips are thick, pink and swollen in the most perfect way, your tongue running along them in a seductive, slow movement that makes him feel like he’s ready to go again right now.
Chris can’t help the groan that falls from his throat then, the devilish grin you give him in response making him exhale shakily. He lets out a breathy laugh - one that’s more shock and admiration than anything else, reaching up to run his fingers through his now sweat-damp hair and watching as you stand up in front of him.
“You okay?” you ask, a low, teasing lilt to your voice.
Chris lets out a low chuckle, watching as your lascivious grin grows wider. He knows that you know the answer to that question without him even saying anything.
“Mmm more than okay” Chris replies, his voice low and his Bostonian accent thick, “That was fuckin’ incredible”.
You let out a laugh, the sound low and throaty and making Chris stir all over again.
“Speak for yourself there handsome” you say, reaching up to run your fingers through your own hair, Chris watching as you walk over and bend to pick up one of the discarded whiskey glasses from before, pouring yourself another drink.
He can’t help the groan that slips from him as he watches you bend, your black lace panties still pulled to the side and affording him an absolutely sinful view of your sticky, slick sex peeking from between your legs. Chris swallows thickly, instantly recalling your sweet honeyed taste from his devouring of you earlier, the feeling of you squeezing his fingers as you came hard. The thought makes his soft length twitch against his leg, the prickling feeling of his hard on slowly returning sending shivers down his spine.
Chris’ hand absentmindedly finds his growing length and starts to fondle the still slippery skin, his eyes watching as you lift the glass to your lips and take a long sip of the amber liquid. He swallows thickly, eyes trailing down your gorgeous figure as you once again bend to discard your glass, his mouth falling slack as you make your way over to the bed and lean back against the oversized pillows.
Just when he thinks this night couldn’t possibly get any better, you slowly, teasingly, bend your knees and spread your legs open, your seductive gaze meeting his as your hand snakes down to your glistening sex.
For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Chris feels like he’s going to explode.
He exhales heavily, his pace quickening, his hand fisting his rapidly increasing girth as he watches the fucking sex goddess on the bed before him. He knows what you’re doing, putting on a show just for him, making sure he’s more than ready for the penultimate round between the both of you.
Chris can’t decide where to look as he watches you on the bed, his eyes darting between your fingers slipping through your silky folds and your face contorted in pleasure as you capture your lips with your teeth. He’s pulling himself with a pace that near rivals yours from earlier as he watches now, his length once again thick, hard and almost aching with a want for the one thing he’s been thinking about since he first saw you in the hallway only hours before.
A moan, a delicious, seductive, almost purr escapes your lips, your head dropping back into the cushions as Chris watches your fingers suddenly dip within you. His breath hitches, a low, animalistic groan falling from his throat, and all of a sudden he can’t stop himself. His feet are carrying him forward before he can think twice, and in an instant, he’s on top of you.
Desperate, like an animal in heat, Chris captures your lips in a heated, fervent kiss, pinning you beneath him as he reaches down to wrap your legs around his waist. It’s all lips, teeth and tongues, your hands grabbing at his muscled back and holding you to him as he grinds his thick length against your pelvis.
Neither of you can stand it for long though, mouths breaking apart for just long enough to allow Chris to sit back onto his heels and grab his leaking cock with one hand, using the other to push your knees back against your chest and telling you to hold your thighs. You do as you’re told almost instantly, your quick submission making Chris all but growl, his hips rolling against your folded body as he drags himself through your slippery mess, coating himself with you.
It’s his favourite part of sex, the moment just before he enters, the anticipation thick in the air making it almost hard to breathe. The sight of his swollen tip dragging through slippery, velvet folds, the sound of slick skin on slick skin, but most of all the way he can tease and hold all the power until they’re all but begging for him to fuck them.
Oh fuck, baby, yes.
This time he can’t tease though, he’s far too fucking desperate to be inside you, his own dark eyes finding your hooded, near sex-drunk gaze before he’s parting your folds and pushing down inside you, opening you up like a flower bursting into bloom.
The strangled groans you both let out mix in the air like a delicious melody, Chris dropping his head back as he revels in the feeling of being sheathed within you, reaching out for your ankles to steady himself momentarily. He feels himself hit resistance, a teasing grin pulling at his lips when he hears you utter a mumbled ‘oh God’, looking down at your joined bodies and feeling his deep muscles squeeze at the sight of him being wholly buried inside you.
Its a close second, this feeling, his second favourite part of sex, the absolutely sinful, fucking decadent feeling of warm, velvet walls opening, stretching around him, the way they quickly transition to clenching and sucking him in, holding him tight within as he tries to pull away. It feels like heaven and Chris swears that if he could, he’d stay with this feeling forever.
Chris allows you both only a second longer to indulge in the feeling before he’s pulling out again, stopping just before he’s completely out only to drive straight back in again. Initially slow but still hard, Chris tests the waters, watching his thick length slide out and reveling in the feeling of your muscles pulling him back, exhaling heavily when he thrusts back in a little harder each time.
He tears his eyes away from the sensual sight because he needs to see whats he’s doing to you, and he swears in that moment he almost fucking comes. The sight of your lip caught in your teeth as you too, stare mesmerized by the same hedonistic scene between your bodies is almost too much for him, almost sending him off the edge right there and then. Chris sees your grip on your own thighs tighten, almost clawing at your own skin, and all of a sudden he can’t help himself and he’s fucking pounding you into the sheets.
His hips thrust against yours, again and again and all over again, your slick sex opening up and taking each new savage push that he gives. You’re so wet, each thrust making the filthiest fucking sounds as Chris’ hips pound against yours, like a man starved, a man possessed, your near delirious moans decorating the air like the most erotic music.
So too does Chris’ voice, all manner of words falling from him as he fucks you senseless, your grip on your thighs still tight as you hold your legs into your chest, holding yourself open for Chris’ carnal assault of your sex.
“Oh fuck baby, look at you”
“Sh-shit, fuck honey, you feel so fuckin’ good around me”
“That’s it baby, moan for me honey, let me fuckin’ hear you”
You match his words with equal filthiness, telling him how fucking hard he is, how fucking good he feels inside you, and telling him to fuck you just like that. With his name on your lips and your sexy, breathy moans, all he wants to do is make you fall apart beneath him, and then do it all over again.
Chris reaches down and pulls at your legs, this time straightening them out against his torso so your ankles are resting on his shoulders and you’re practically folded in half beneath him. He leans forwards and drives into you, pressing his weight down onto your legs, a near scream from you and a feral growl from him sounding in response to the new, deeper angle of him. He pounds into you with a bruising rhythm, groaning with each new thrust as he works you open even more for him, looking down to see you reach up and fist your fingers into the sheets beside you.
He knows he wont last long in the position, not with the fucking exquisite way this feels for him, and definitely not with the way you look beneath him as he fucks you. Your tits high and bouncing, your body writhing beneath him, your back arching into him as you ground your hips to meet his thrusts. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the sweat forming at the back of his neck, forcing himself to keep going, to hold out just long enough to make you come before him. He'll be damned if he finishes without making sure he's taken care of you first, a drop of perspiration sliding down his back as he bears down into you.
Chris bends to kiss you, his length forced deeper as he presses down on your already out stretched legs, meeting your mouth with a rough, insistent kiss that’s all passion and tongue. The new depth forces a cry from your throat that Chris swallows with his kiss, your body writhing beneath his weight as he thrusts. He pulls back just enough to see your face, your expression one of pure pleasure as you throw your head back into the sheets, and it's all Chris needs to know that he's got you racing towards the finish line.
A chaotic rhythm of obscene noises fills the room, the wet slap of skin on sweaty skin, deep, desperate breaths from both of you, and now, your breathless pleas as you beg Chris to make you come.
"Fuck Chris, please, please make me come"
Your words set off a spark in Chris and in an instant he's fucking railing you, thrusting his hips in and out at a pace that he's sure is going to leave you sore in the morning. You cry out, his name on your perfect lips like a desperate prayer, your hands reaching up to grip his shoulders like you would a life raft in an ocean storm.
He knows you're almost there, right there on the edge, teetering on the end of the cliff and ready to free fall into the explosive bliss of release. He reaches down to cup your thigh, pressing down on it as he thrusts harder into you, his eyes watching your face as you bite down on your lip.
“C’mon honey, I know you’re there, I can feel you’re so fuckin’ close” Chris pants, his voice punctuated by the wet, heavy slap of his hips against your pelvis, “Let me have it babe, show me how you come, let me hear you say my fuckin’ name”.
His words are your final straw and all of a sudden Chris feels you clench around him, your head throwing back violently as your whole body suddenly explodes.
Oh holy, fuck.
It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, it always is, watching a woman come around him, feeling a woman come beneath him. He’s mesmerized, totally enraptured as he watches you toss and writhe beneath him, barely noticing the way your nails have all but dug into his skin, a bite of pain that he’s entirely indifferent to in that moment. He feels like he’s watching in slow motion, the way your mouth hangs open in ecstasy, the way goose bumps rise on your buttery smooth skin, the way your back arches into the mattress, pushing your full breasts into his chest as you grip onto him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.
It’s a sight he commits to memory as he watches you, swearing in that moment that he’d watch it on repeat if he could. He’s so lost in watching you, feeling you, still fucking you through your high, desperate to prolong your pleasure and give you everything he can. Chris knows he won’t last much longer though, gritting his teeth as he deepens his thrusts, meeting resistance with every push as your over-sensitized body starts to twitch beneath him. Gasps fall from your throat, his name on your lips as your body starts to slow, Chris leaning back and gripping at your ankles on his shoulders as he prepares to bring it on home.
Groans of effort punctuate his thrusts, Chris’ pace never faltering despite the fucked out, over-stimulated whimpers you're now letting out beneath him. He can feel the pressure building, his heart pounding in his chest so loud he can hear it in his ears, his jaw clenching as he feels his deep muscles tightening.
Chris’ breathing is erratic, beads of sweat trailing down his back as he ruts into you, looking down at you beneath him and knowing in that second that he’s done for. The sight of your swollen lips parted, your skin glowing with sweat, the sound of curses moaned from your throat, the feel of your velvety walls squeezing him.
Oh fuck honey, oh fuck, fuck, fuuckkkkkk
All at once it’s all too much and Chris is coming, a string of profanities falling from him as he groans your name and grips you beneath him, burying his face in your shoulder as he finds his sweet release within you.
You shake the CEO’s hand, fighting the urge to scream in triumph, instead opting for your most charming smile as he nods and tells you that he’s looking forward to working with you and your company. You watch as he and the last of his corporate team exit the room, letting out a breath as you turn to look out of the floor to ceiling windows of the high rise boardroom that showcased an exquisite view of the New York skyline at dusk.
You did it. You actually fucking did it.
You landed the client, the biggest client in North Eastern USA.
A seamless sales pitch presented without a hitch, with nothing but your charm, wit and confident professionalism. The clients were more than impressed by you and your effortless presentation, the expression on the CEO’s face as you’d concluded telling you that he was ready to sign without him even saying the words. It meant a more than happy boss, a hefty commission, and of course, a sure fire promotion.
You ball your fists in victory, unable to help the grin that seems to take over your entire face. All the stress and late nights had really been worth it.
You fucking did it!
Your phone pings in your bag, breaking you just momentarily from your internal cheering, your heels clicking against the tiled floor as you walk over to retrieve it.
I just got the call. Good news travels fast. I never doubted you for a second Y/N, fantastic work. Celebrate on me tonight, and I’ll see you back in the office Monday.
You hug your phone to your chest gleefully, grateful for a boss that was so encouraging, sending him a quick text back thanking him for the opportunity and the well wishes. You pack up the last of your things and make your way out of the board room, deciding that a celebratory drink was well and truly in order.
A taxi ride later found you at the rooftop bar of your hotel, lounging on a dark leather chaise and sipping a glass of champagne, surrounded casually by Friday afternoon, after work drinkers. You sip the bubbly liquid, reaching up to run your fingers through your loose hair, your expensive jewelry clinking on your wrist as you admire the gorgeous sunset view of the city around you.
You let out a breath of pure contentment, deciding at that very moment that you’d never felt more gratified or pleased with yourself. You close your eyes and smile, letting the glow from the sunset warm you. Nothing could beat the way you were feeling right now, absolutely nothing.
“Excuse me miss?”
A voice makes you turn, disrupting your at ease daydream, opening your eyes to find a waitress holding a single tumbler of whiskey on a tray before you.
Your brow furrows, your head tilting in confusion.
“From the gentleman at the bar” she clarifies, a single ice cube clinking as she bends to put the glass down in front of you, a square white napkin tucked beneath it.
You smile in thanks as she walks away, looking back down at the new drink in front of you. It’s only then that you notice something is written on the napkin, lifting the glass to find a message scribbled underneath it.
The sight of the familiar boyish handwriting makes your muscles clench, and you know in an instant who it’s from before you even finish reading it. Fresh memories from the night before flood through you, your heart suddenly racing as you look up and over at the bar, searching.
Blue eyes are already on you when you find him seated at the bar, a devilishly handsome smile on his gorgeous face as he looks back at you. You return a wicked grin, unable to help the shiver that shoots down your spine under his gaze, feeling a heat flush to your cheeks that has nothing to do with the champagne. You’re instantly transported back to last night, swearing in that moment you can actually feel his lips on your skin, his grip on your skin, his tongue between your thighs. Goosebumps rise on your skin despite the warmth of the evening, your legs unintentionally pressing together seeking friction.
Chris points down at his glass and nods at you as if gesturing for you to do the same, one of his elbows resting on the bar, his third finger sitting teasingly on his bottom lip.
You grin and chew your lip, looking down at the napkin in front of you, your deep muscles squeezing deliciously as you read over the scrawled message.
‘Round 2 to celebrate your promotion?’
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concussive force (18+)
lee know x reader (prologue)
warnings: afab reader, illegal boxing ring au, angst, injuries, wound care, hurt/comfort, piv, fairly vanilla. (wc: 1.7k)
summary: it's a good way to put that first year of medical school knowledge to use - in your apartment, three in the morning, doing your best to patch up your handsome, abrasive, local big secret harbouring neighbour, a secret that he hopes you'll help him keep.
i'm still pretty undecided if i want this as an extended series or if this will be a standalone oneshot, but as this chapter is by itself, is setting up y/n and minho's relationship with some minor world building. (i also clearly have no idea how medicine and stitches work sorry.) enjoy!
It's unseasonably warm when you throw the only window of your matchbox apartment open, pull back the curtains. Even the breeze is warm, too humid for this time of the year.
Feels like a storm brewing.
"Fifty-six missed phone calls is excessive, even for you," despite the frost in your words, you lower yourself to him, a slight tremor in your hands. He's sitting propped on your couch, head rolling to the back of it.
Black fades the edges of Minho's vision, blinking, wondering to himself if finding his way to your door, to you opening it without provocation, is the universe's way of saying something. He isn't sure what. "How else was I supposed to get in touch with you?" an unsteady, uncharacteristic laugh, but the pain in his side is sharp, near intolerable.
"Go to a fucking hospital, Minho." Using the fabric scissors from your sewing kit, you cut his shirt, dirty gray cotton stained a dark red, off of him. He inhales tightly, one that causes the pain to shoot through him, creak into his ribs.
Still, all this doesn't deter that mouth of his. "If I could afford the hospital, I wouldn't be in an illegal underground boxing ring, now would I?" Mouthing off, he accepts your offer of pain killers, pops them like candy.
There's a waver in your voice, something closer to affection than you'd like, even as you smooth your tone to even, "Stupid. Are you going to show me where it hurts now?" Minho shifts, throwing an arm across his face, the dimmed lights of your studio apartment suddenly too bright.
"I'm fine," his voice strains, closer to a hiss now, eyes on the ceiling, halfway wanting you to lull him into some kind of calm. To his credit, it's too late to bother to try to hide it, to act tough.
He's been in better and worse states in front of you.
"What did you get yourself into, this time?" Gingerly, you push his forearm out of the way, note the bruises, fresh, that trellis their way from his knuckles to the beaten muscles of his arms. It makes your heart excessively sour.
"Just got unlucky, tonight." Your kettle goes off, and making him hold the towel, you rise to fill your largest mixing bowl with hot water, bringing it back with fresh towels. Taking in a deep breath, you close your eyes, count up to ten, count back down.
This is the first time you'll practice your sutures on a live body.
"Guess you'll just have to keep being unlucky. Do you always get stabbed when you get unlucky, Minho?" He doesn't look at you, not until you reach to give his forearm a tight squeeze, yelping when you press into a bruise.
He hisses, jerking slightly away from you before he realises it will need to get worse before it gets better, falling limp again into your couch. "What happened to do no harm, doc?" There's no real fight there, not when he's exhausted, bleeding all over your tiny apartment, and he isn't sure if he feels better or worse, confronted by how calm you are.
It's different from the first time he ends up like this, with you, for sure. You move in front of him, your face filling his vision, and he swallows thickly, sure that there is a mediocre explanation for how all he can see is your lips.
Carefully, quietly, Minho offers, "I'm sorry."
Your shoulders slump, and he hadn't even noticed the tension there, how his hands stutter halfway to touching you, before he remembers he needs to be adding pressure against his own wound, that moving pains him.
Your voice is suddenly very small, a soft, feathered thing with none of the talons from before. Clutching the suture needle, threaded, your knuckles are bone white, "You're stupid. Eyes on me. This is going to hurt, but promise me you'll look nowhere else."
A grumble: even so, he holds your gaze, and as much as he'd like to throw himself back and close his eyes as you pierce his skin for the first stitch, he keeps his eyes on you. "God! Would it have hurt you to warn me first?" Through clenched teeth, his voice sounds more like a growl.
His vision dances, red and white and hot, your stitches taut and quick, and he grips onto the arm of the couch, holding to field some of the pain. When you finally stop, the thread knotted, Minho makes a valiant attempt at relaxing. "I just didn't want you tensing up."
The stitches are neat, and it makes him want to run his fingers over your handiwork. "When did you get so good at this?" he says instead, propping himself up, watching as you wring out a towel to clean off the crusting blood.
This brings a smile to your face, one that makes him smile just a little in return, soft blooming eyes in spite of it all. "I've been getting practice, thanks to someone." Your head bowed to look at his torso, he shifts uneasily once more.
Your fingers, shaking lightly, trace across old scars, one too old to have been something from recent, and the canvas of bruises at varying degrees of healing. Gentle, close to loving, you lay a hand across the beating snare drum of his heart.
Minho makes a face, a soft groan of pain that makes you look back up at him, a moment he immediately sours with a coy, "My eyes are up here, you know." His hand comes to meet yours, closes on top of it, gives you a tight squeeze.
"My eyes are perfectly fine where they are. Don’t be shy." You drop the towel, now pink and stained, onto the ground next to the bowl of water. It'll be tomorrow's problem, especially now that you have to contend with dressing him.
His eyes roll, disrespectful beyond measure. "Fuck you, too."
The motion of dressing his torso is slow, agonising, moving him into place, and you know he much prefers this to any type of tenderness. "You wish I was."
You're so close that you can smell the antiseptic on his skin, sterile, clinical, and he goes from looking down at your motions, to, when you stop, eyes meeting yours.
"...so, your diagnosis, doctor?"
It's hardly enough to call Lee Minho handsome.
Irreverent, frustrating, maybe. All he has to do is look at you just right, and you've forgotten it's three in the morning, that he blew your phone up, that he really should be at a hospital instead of relying on your half-baked knowledge.
It comforts you little to know that before you, he had no one.
He licks his lips, nervous, and you watch the way his eyelashes cast dancing shadows on his cheeks, and the anxiety sits in your bones where your chest once was, beating hard, every drawn breath painful.
"Terminal, my good man."
A quiet pop of his mouth, surprise, and then a laugh. "Oh, oh no. Then, are you going to grant a dying man his last wish?" He feathers his touch back against your hand, unsteady, hesitant, and you let him slide his palm to yours, pull your hand to his face.
He doesn't kiss you, not yet, eyes the colour of burnt umber, and your breath hold takes too long, your clever response dying in his throat when his lips finally meets yours. Something about busting open his stitches. About how he didn't need to be sweet to you every time you patched him up.
Do no harm, or something. Your mind keeps wandering back to his bruises, and you've already lost track of the conversation, when his lips meet your palm, supplicant, and your fingers close instinctively, lightly, over his cheek. "Four stitches and getting your ass kicked still doesn't stop you from being horny."
Minho leans forward, nose to nose, "Suspension bridge effect." And you could have throttled him, then, left him on your couch and headed to your bed, pretended he wasn't there a few feet away.
Instead, you close your eyes and kiss him again.
The heat of contact is unrelenting. Even as you try to be gentle, he isn't, a blatant disregard for his own injuries as he moves you onto his lap, his fingers twist their way into your hair.
When you straddle him, knees on either sides of his body, he looks up at you, mouth opening, and you expect something that isn't these words, ghost waltzing their way into your heart, "You're beautiful."
"You're delirious," you counter, but his smile says something other, soothes that feeling in your bone marrow that makes you feel like you're on the precipice of losing him, having never had him in the first place.
His cheeks, splotched a dark wine red, contrast how proffers his mouth to you to kiss, waiting for you. Minho won't say please or thank you, vocabulary not in his dictionary, but you give anyways.
He lays back onto the couch, fumbles with popping his cock out, hard and weeping with desire. In the back of your mind, his words, suspension bridge and the body's animal desire to procreate in the face of danger, ring as a reminder that this could be nothing more.
In your periphery, as you sink down into him, careful, all that tension curdling your stomach, not wanting to hurt him, you see the way his head snaps forward, bangs straight against your shoulder. Minho grunts with exertion, attempting to right himself, straining from control, wincing from pain.
His face buries against your neck, and the motion of your hips, shivering, panting, keeps him there against you, mouth against your pulse, alive. His eyes are half-lidded, and all the other times, he would be fucking you the way he knew worked, the way he knew would leave you falling apart and away.
You want to kiss him, more, more than you'd ever admit to him, peel him from your neck and car crash your mouths together until there is no you, no him, just us. With the rising of his breath, quickened pace, Minho lets out a soft whine that sounds too much like your name, open-mouthed moans.
Strong arms wrap around your waist, and he forces you down onto him, despite the entire point of you riding him an attempt at keeping his wound closed, his stitches in place. "Minho!" you gasp, but it's too late, his thrust upwards into you breaking your silence long before that.
"I want you. Let me have you."
4to2 Magnolia Bathroom Conversions & Edits
Did this as a request in the Wishing Tree at Garden of Shadows a week or two ago.
In this conversion set, the dresser and wardrobe are functional and have
new guids. You can still use the ones made by kestrelteens if you like.
Both sinks are animated but the water is lower than the faucet since the water
level is an effect better left alone. The faucets looked awful when I modded
on them to make it lower so I left them as is.
The double sink is centered on one tile so that your sim is standing
in front of the basin when using it.
The dresser is cloned from a base game dresser. Your sim will stand front
center of it and pull the drawer from that position. The left top drawer
will pop out and your sim will change clothes.
The wardrobe is cloned from a base game wardrobe. It works just fine but since
leaf-motif's mesh is half as narrow, your sim will grab the doorknobs, open
the doors as if it is opening doors on a wider and fuller mesh.
In other words, your sim's arms will be outstretched past the doors on
this mesh and the doors animate right but since they are a different size,
they are pulled away from the wardrobe and not as wide. I never saw this coming,
never happened before. Didn't want to double the width and such of the
Magnolia wardrobe so it would work with the ts2 wardrobes. I'm considering exporting
the gmdc out and importing it back in and letting sims do the motions while
the wardrobe blankly stares at them.
The decor items:
All decor items have the same guids as kestrelteens'.
I added shadows to all of them and made all the recolors.
Just let them all overwrite the meshes in kestreteens' conversion.
The bathroom tray, soapbottles and bathroom books had shadows added. If you don't use
shadows in your game, toss these ones and kestrelteens' meshes should pick up
Plant and soap bars have two subsets now. I cloned the musee vase and made new meshes using
the same guids as kestrelteens' conversions. The recolors will only work on these meshes.
I'm undecided on converting the cute little ceiling lamp since I think we might
already have one similar to that for ts2.
The 1-tile mirror, as seen in the prevs, is still getting tweaked. I haven't made a mirror
for a couple of years and am out of practice. A few more tweaks and that one should be done.
It is not in the download since I didn't think anyone wanted a mirror where the mirror didn't
quite fit inside the frame.
GIRLS ON FILM
Photo sources: 1 | 2
Pairings: Steve Harrington/Reader
Warnings: NSFW; smut; fluff; amateur corn production; literally no proof-reading; plot? what plot?
Word Count: 6,001 words
Reader Gender: Female
Summary: You need a subject for your photography class assignment. Luckily, your boyfriend is more than willing to help you out. Some pictures, however, might be better off left between just the two of you...
A/N: Caught you in 4k 📸 Had to bang this out before volume 2 crushed my soul, so, here you go 🤡🤡 I’m in full clown-mode denial that anything is going to happen to my faves at all rn---
Hoisting your bag onto your arm, you make your way out of the lecture hall, still dwelling on the newest assignment your professor had given out. You were supposed to photograph someone important to you in your own unique portraiture method, which had set off a few groans in class when the professor had first announced it. There were clearly several people who had no idea who they were going to make the subject of their assignment, meanwhile your mind had immediately gone to one specific person.
Steve Harrington was perhaps the most important person in your life right now, which makes sense, considering your relationship with the man has been serious since last March. It was perhaps the only thing he was serious about at this current time in his life, with how he was still undecided on his major after nearly a year and a half’s worth of college courses.
His father wanted him to go into tech, but Steve had been so uncertain that any chance at getting into somewhere other than the community college a county over from Hawkins had flown out the window. It was still a touchy subject, and the fact that his wealthy parents still had him working part-time at the Family Video store, despite pursuing an education, was evidence enough that his father hadn’t forgiven him for not applying himself harder. He has a little over a semester’s worth of classes left until you both are set to transfer to state, and he has to decide on something to do with his life by then in order to appease his parents.
Well, something other than dating you, because you’re the only thing in his life right now that Steve’s absolutely certain he wants.
And you’re absolutely certain that Steve is the man for this assignment.
He’s already helped you set up a few of your other projects for this class, between studying for the few classes you share together, so you’re pretty sure he’ll help you out again, if you ask him nicely.
Pushing past the double doors leading out to the parking lot, it’s not difficult to find his beamer parked right where it always is. Steve’s sitting in the driver’s seat with the window rolled down, undoubtedly enjoying the temperate weather after having got out of his own class that ends thirty minutes before yours. The closer you get, the more you can hear the music on his radio, and it becomes clear that he’s either taking a nap or has his eyes closed behind the sunglasses perched on his nose, because he makes no move to acknowledge your approach.
Leaning on the windowsill, you bend into the car swiftly to place a peck on his cheek, “Guess who?”
“That better be my girlfriend, or I’m in trouble,” he grins, raising his head from where it had been leant back on the seat to look at you through his shades. “How was class?”
“Same old, same old,” you roll your eyes, pushing off the door to go around to the passenger side. Dumping your bag into the back seat, you slide in beside him, continuing, “Dr. Tanner gave us another assignment.”
“Oh?” Steve hums, shifting gears to drive out of the parking lot. “She likes to give you guys a lot of things to do, huh?”
“Yeah, she always is saying that the more we practice, the better our photos will be. I guess she’s right,” you sigh, sinking into the seat and deciding to test the waters. “How about your day? How’s it been?”
Steve groans, jaw clenching as he turns his blinker on, “You don’t want to know. My dad’s gonna’ kill me when I make a C in biology.”
“You got your test back?”
“Unfortunately. At least yesterday I still could live with the hope of getting a B—”
“I’m sure there’s some way to improve your grade. There’s still one more test before the final, right?” You lean towards him, reaching out to give his shoulder a comforting rub, “I’ll help you. I’m doing alright in biology since Dr. O’Malley explains things pretty well.”
“Yeah, but O’Malley at least teaches you what’s gonna’ be on the tests! I feel like every time my guy gives us a lecture, he’s telling us what not to study, because it’s never on his exams!” Steve huffs your name with frustration, “I made a fifty-eight. A fifty-eight! That’s like if a nuke hit my B-average.”
“I’m sorry, Steve. I know you studied hard for it,” you murmur, knowing there’s nothing you can do about it now, and instead focus on perhaps cheering him up, “Want to get drive-thru before we hit the interstate? Like KFC or something? I know you must be starving.” It’s about an hour’s drive back to Hawkins, and food is the only thing that you can think of that might make the situation at least a little better for now.
“Yeah, I guess I could eat,” he doesn’t sound convincing.
You give his shoulder a squeeze, feeling him relax slightly at the touch, “You’ll feel better after.”
The side-eyed glance he gives you lets you see a glimpse of his dark eyes beyond the sunglasses, and you offer him an encouraging smile that he returns, “You’re probably right. Man, I’m moping, aren’t I? Sorry to be such a downer.”
“No, it’s okay. You know you don’t have to be on all the time with me,” when he stops at a red light, he reaches from the gear shift to rest his hand on your thigh, leaning into your touch when you move to caress his cheek. “We’ll work through it together, yeah?”
Steve nods, smile spreading into something more genuine, something that reaches his eyes, when he sighs softly, “What did I do to deserve you, honey?”
“Probably something amazing, I’m sure,” you giggle, before retreating back into your seat and turning up the radio just enough to hear a familiar song you liked.
The wind flowing through his open window ruffles his hair as he continues driving on the turning of the light, “That assignment you were talking about— what’s it going to be this time?”
“Well, I have to take a series of photos involving someone I care about, and make them unique to my personal style.”
“Ah,” he begins, “so who’re you gonna’ ask—?”
Rolling your eyes, you snort, “You, obviously! Who else?”
“I don’t know! I thought, maybe, like, Robin, or your parents, or something—” he quickly runs through his options.
“Of course I was gonna’ ask you, Steve. You’re pretty much the most special person in my life—”
“Aw,” he grins, teasing, “I’m special to you? That’s so sweet.”
“Shut up,” you fight against the warmth rising to your cheeks. Even after all this time, he still can make you flustered, and you know he knows it, “Well, will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Be my subject!”
“Uh, sure,” he hums, “I just gotta’ work this weekend. I’m off Sunday, though, so we could do it then, unless you’re busy.”
“Sunday works,” agreement on your tongue, you’re glad you’ll have a few days to figure out what kind of set up you want for the photos. “You could bring your bio books, too, and we could study together.” Steve groans his reluctance until you point at him, “Hey, I’m gonna’ make sure you get the grade you need, mister!”
“Sunday’s supposed to be a day of rest or something, isn’t it?” he whines, taking the turn towards the restaurant.
“There ain’t no rest for the wicked, Steve,” you tease, grinning, as he shoots you a look beneath a raised brow.
“The wicked, and college students, huh?” Steve shakes his head, a smile lingering on his lips as he pulls up behind the cars waiting in line at the drive-thru, “Come on, tell me what you want.”
Reaching around the seat, you grab your bag to rummage through it in search of some cash, “I’m treating you today, okay? Because you had a bad day— no arguing!” You can tell he wants to, by the time you plop back into your seat with your wallet in hand, but you silence whatever protest he’s about to start into when you lean into his personal space, his eyes darting to your lips when you repeat, “No arguing,” before kissing him.
Trying to keep it proper, considering you were still in semi-public, you don’t give Steve much attention before you’re pulling away, and he’s pouting, but concedes all the same, “Fine, but I’m getting it next time.”
“Mhm,” you hum, biting into your smile as you flip open your wallet.
“I am,” Steve leans towards you, catching your attention with a playful look of determination, shooting your own words back at you. “See this face? No arguing!”
“I’m not arguing!” Gesturing to the car in front of you which had driven forward in the time it had taken for him to get distracted, you refocus him, “Pull up, Steve!”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”
A wide grin cuts along his teeth, like he knows he’ll get his way, which he will. He almost always does, when it comes to treating you to little things like this. Steve was the kind of guy who liked to feel like he was taking care of someone, but the truth was, he needed you just as much as you needed him. Maybe neither of you were truly reliant on each other financially, but when it comes down to the little moments of every day you spent together? Without that, you’re certain you’d simply wither up and die.
Steve had been your safe place, whenever something was going wrong in your life. You knew you could confide in him about anything, and he’d try to support you through it. Maybe that’s why you can allow yourself to give him the same, because Steve Harrington made loving you look easy, even when you knew it wasn’t always the case.
Comfortable is a forbidden word to some couples. They’re so used to the high of a honeymoon phase, or the anxiety of a struggling relationship, that when the lull of everyday comfortability sets in, it’s mistaken for boredom. For something being terribly wrong. You’d been that way once, before him, and judging by what he’d told you of his past relationships, he’d been victim to that same uncertainty in the past.
The truth is, you wouldn’t rather have him any other way. Slipping into this sneaky vulnerability that comes with the soft comfort which spreads through your soul every time he touches you, or calls you his, is a state you’d gladly live in for the rest of your days.
You’ve been head over heels for him for far longer than you ever realized.
That’s why the next couple of days were hard. Whenever you were separated by work, only able to see him between classes and shifts, as silly as it sounds, you’re missing him by Sunday. Sure, he called you the night before— he always makes sure to call you on the days you can’t see each other in person, but you’re still a bundle of nervous excitement as you set up the finishing touches for the photos of him you had planned.
It was a photography studio on a student budget, also known as a sheet pinned against your shoebox of an apartment’s wall, with strategic lighting positioned around it. You’ve decided on seeing what you can accomplish with polaroids, rather than the film processing you’d have to do otherwise.
You wanted to focus on minimalism, on just him, hoping that maybe the lack of focus on anything else would show how little everything else matters in comparison. Or, at least, that it’ll get you a good grade on the project.
Sighing, you plop down onto your bed to get as much a distant look at the set-up as you can in the cramped space, before deciding that it was as close as you had imagined in your head as you were going to get for now. The sound of the key in your lock lets you know it’s just in the nick of time, too, because within moments Steve is pushing open your door.
“Your model has arrived,” he calls out, before catching sight of you on the bed. He does a dramatic little spin to show off his outfit, which consists of a blue sweater and gray slacks, before shutting your front door behind him with a grin, “I’m ready for Vogue.”
Chuckling, “Perfect timing! I just got done setting everything up.” He’s tucking his keys into his pocket when you look around him, “Did you forget your biology book?”
“Ugh,” he groans before collapsing beside you on the bed, pushing himself up on his elbow to affix you with a reluctant, “it’s rotting in the trunk of my car. I was hoping you’d forget about bio…” blinking up at you, he bats his eyes as if to persuade you, “since I’m being such a great guy and helping you out with your project, and all…”
“Steve!” you huff when he pokes you in the side, swatting at his hands, “It’s for your own good!”
“I’ve just accepted my fate at this point—”
“No, come on,” you shift to turn towards him more fully, dangling one leg off the bed with the other crossed beneath your hands. “There’s more fight in you than that! Look, how about we do the shoot, then we can study a little, and spend the rest of the day doing something fun together? At the very least, we should go over your test together…”
A smile slowly parts his lips, as Steve jokes, “Alright, professor, we’ll do it your way,” before sitting up properly to sneak a kiss at your cheek. “So, tell me all about where you want me for this shoot.”
Escaping the way his hands have started to snake around your waist, you move towards the camera you’ve set up on the small space of a kitchen counter that you have, “I’m thinking, polaroids this time. I did regular film for the last project, but the professor is giving us more creative leeway with this one. Besides, I’ve been wanting to do something serious with this thing for class ever since you got me it for my birthday…”
“Oh, yeah,” Steve nods, as if he’s said anything different when you told him the last few project ideas you’ve come up with, “I think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m not finished telling you everything about my idea,” you begin, picking at the camera in your hands as you confess the one point you weren’t entirely sure if he’d be okay with. “I wanted to do a minimalist kind of thing, and you can totally say no if you want to. I’m sure I could make it work otherwise—”
Steve raises a brow at your rambling tone, “What?”
“I was thinking… about maybe taking a few pictures… without your shirt? Like I was going to pose you so it’s like, this artistically minimal kind of thing, and it would only be shots from the waist up, but I totally get if you’re not comfortable with doing that—” your voice dies in your throat when Steve stands up and simply tugs his sweater over his head, laying it over the rails of your bed’s iron footboard.
Moving closer, he smirks at having successfully silenced you, “You want me to sit on the stool?”
“Yeah, um,” you tear your eyes away from him, towards your setup, and the stool sat in the middle of it. “Kind of with your back to me— I’ll show you.”
When you have him successfully positioned, in the stool, pushing his hair the way you want it to look, he grins at your look of concentration, “Can’t get enough of this pretty face, huh?”
“Quit smiling,” you snicker, before pulling back to look at him through the camera lens, “I want a neutral look on your face in these shots.”
“Neutral, huh?” he proceeds to frown.
“Neutral, not frowning! Think of, like, clean laundry, or something that makes you feel calm—”
“Clean laundry?” he was heavily judging your choice, “That’s what makes you calm?”
“Steve,” you whine, lowering the camera from your face, “just think of something calming.”
“Okay, okay, just gimme’ a second,” he relents, as you bring the camera back up to line up the shot. Finally, he breathes, “Got it,” before his face settles into a calm neutral expression, dark brown eyes looking at the camera just the way you want.
“Perfect,” you snap the shot, before hearing the whirr of the film as it gets ejected. Fanning the picture until it starts to appear, you feel your smile spreading when you begin to make out the photo. It turned out great. Setting the picture on the counter, you turn back to Steve, “Alright, just keep doing that. I’m gonna’ get some different angles.”
“Okay. Just make sure you make me look cool,” of course that would be his one concern.
Before you can reposition him again, you try out some different angles. You want to have multiple shots to choose from, so you don’t wind up having to take more pictures of him later. You’d learned your lesson before about not getting enough shots, and it was more of a hassle in the long run than just taking your time while you had everything set up. You spend almost half an hour taking the shots between soft banter with Steve, which is honestly less time than you’d expected it to take, but Steve was more focused today than he usually is.
Flipping through the stack of polaroids you’ve taken, you hold out some for Steve to see, “Wanna’ take a look?”
“I think so. They turned out really nice. I’ll have to narrow down my favorite ones to submit for class…” Steve’s fingers brush yours as he takes the pictures from your hands, looking through them. You hope he thinks they look as good as you do, “What do you think?”
“I think,” his eyes flick up from the pictures to catch your waiting stare, “I’ve never looked better.” You let out a breath of relief, taking the pictures back from him to sort out on the counter, while Steve plucks the camera into his hands, “This is a nifty little thing, huh? I didn’t expect it to be able to make pictures that good.”
“That’s the technology of the ‘80s for you,” you joke, only for a flash and the sound of the camera going off to catch your attention. Whipping your head from the pictures on the counter to Steve, you find him grinning mischievously at you as he fans out a picture of his own, “Steve!”
“What? The photographer never gets to be photographed?” holding out the picture, you watch as the candid image of you sorting through the pictures comes into view, “Look at how beautiful you look.”
“Stop,” you can’t stop your giggles when he slides up into your personal space, positioning the camera like he’s going to take another picture, “you’ll waste the film.”
“It’s not a waste. I could use a few more pictures of you.”
Looking towards him skeptically, “You have pictures of me—”
“Yeah,” he sighs, brushing your hair out of his way to kiss you against your temple, “I could always use more, though.”
“What you should use is that biology book that’s in the trunk of your car,” you turn to face him, leaning against the counter as he rolls his eyes at your cheeky changing of the subject. Backing up, he appears to be thinking, before he turns to go and sit on the edge of your bed, still picking at the camera in his hands.
“You said we wouldn’t study until after the shoot,” Steve mumbles, placing the camera to his side.
“Yeah, and I’m done. I got all the shots I think I need.”
“No, you haven’t,” he begins, and you know better than to play this game with him, when he gets that look in his eyes. You know whatever he’s got in his head can only be a bad idea, but you step forward anyway.
Arms crossed over your chest, it’s too fun to give into him to resist, “Oh? What makes you say that?”
“I was just… thinking…”
“Shut up,” Steve chuckles, reaching out when you’re within arm’s reach to tug you closer by the loops in your jeans. “I was just thinking about, maybe… you letting me take some pictures of you. Just for me.”
“Just for you, huh?” you lean your hand on his shoulder, steading yourself from where you stand between his knees. “What kind of pictures?”
“Nothing too bad, just… the last picture I have of you is the one in my wallet, and it’s practically falling apart,” he sighs when you card your fingers into his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. “How am I supposed to brag about my girl with a picture that looks like it’s been through a world war?”
“And who’s fault is that? I gave it to you brand new—”
“I know, I know, but,” and there are those wide eyes of his again, staring up at you with that pleading look that made you melt to his every whim just about, “I want to remember how you are now, when we’re alone together. Not just some professional photo— though, you look nice in those, too.”
Now, how were you supposed to say no to that?
“Okay, fine,” you sigh, knowing full well you’d let him take as many as he wanted to, “just one picture.” He could use the rest of your film up, if it meant seeing him grin at you like he was. Reloading the camera again is a small price to pay.
“Really?” when you nod, he urges you down into his lap with a firm tug at your hips, until you’re left straddling him. His hand finds the side of your neck, dragging your lips against his in a kiss that’s soft, slow, but laced with his hint of grateful excitement before he pulls away with, “Thank you.”
“Jeez, if that’s the thanks I get for letting you take a picture, I’ll let you take them more often,” you laugh, as he picks the camera off the comforter. “How do you want me to sit for the picture, Steve?”
“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully, bringing the camera to his face to look at you through it, “that’s a good question. I think… I want you to take your sweater off for it.”
“It’s a cardigan,” you correct, reaching down to unbutton the garment.
“Whatever,” Steve lowers the camera, watching you toss the cardigan onto the footboard of your bed, where his sweater still hangs. It leaves you in the casual tank-top you’d been wearing beneath.
“Do you want to use the set?”
“No, no,” he brings the camera back up, still seemingly deciding on how he wants the picture, “I think I want you to sit on the bed.” Before you can move from his lap, he adds, “It would be more normal. I want it to be kind of natural.”
“Alrighty, then,” you shift, crawling off him and to the side in order to lay back on the bed, until he gets up. When you sit upright, Steve’s standing off the end of the bed with the camera, seemingly mimicking the way you had been lining up your shot earlier.
Noticing the strap of your tank top has slipped down your arm when you shifted positions, you go to push it back up, only for Steve’s voice to stop you, “Uh, can you leave it?”
“It just makes you look comfortable,” is his only explanation, but you lower your hand all the same, leaving the strap hanging slightly off your shoulder.
“Is this good?” you ask, but there’s a tension in the air, and judging by the strain in his voice, he can feel it, too.
“Yeah, uh,” you watch as Steve swallows, “can you just, lay back a bit?” Doing as he says, you relax against the comforter a little, and he comes closer. His knees brush the edge of the bed between where your calves dangle off the edge of it. He takes another second, before the shutter goes off along with the flash, and then another picture is ejecting from the camera.
Steve fans it a little, while you raise your foot to press into his abdomen, “Did it turn out how you wanted?”
His eyes are a little glazed over, when he looks from the picture to you, as if he were lost in thought for just a moment, “Um, yeah, take a look.” You take the photo when he offers it to you, only to see yourself spread atop the bed, hair spread around your head like a halo, the strap of your tank top falling off your shoulder. The slight smile on your face only adds to how comfortable you look, and you have to admit, you don’t hate this picture of you.
Steve’s hand comes to your ankle, pushing your foot from his path as he kneels into the bed, settling over your body while you stare at the picture, “I did good, huh?”
“You’re quite the photographer, Mister Harrington,” you tease, casting your eyes upon him again to find that he’s so close. It takes only a shift of his body weight to lower himself enough to capture your lips with his, but while this kiss might be slow, it was far from soft. There’s an edge there, a need in the insistence of his lips against yours. The taste of his tongue scrambling your thoughts until you completely abandon the picture in your grip, leaving it somewhere beside you on the bed, in favor of the feeling of his skin.
Your hands snake up his sides, dragging him closer just as much as your legs do, while Steve kisses you senseless. His fingers splay beneath the end of your shirt, pushing until he can feel the soft press of your stomach, and inching upwards with each passing second. The last thing on either of your minds is studying for biology, and any chance you have at returning to the plan for the day is quickly slipping through your fingertips the more his body presses down into yours.
It crumbles away entirely when he pulls back just enough to utter a breathless, “I need you so bad right now,” before delving down your jaw, dragging his lips along the column of your throat.
“Steve—” you’re just as breathless, and you don’t know if it’s the few days you’ve spent apart, or the fact that you have both been so wound-up over school, but you need him just as badly.
“Please,” he groans against your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses there that were undoubtedly going to leave a mark thanks to the fervor with which he’d descended upon you. You hardly mind. You’ve missed his marks on you, ever since the last ones had faded.
Your tank top is pushed over your chest, a fist in the fabric keeping it up while his other hand presses against your hardening nipples through the bralette you’d chosen to wear today. You hadn’t planned on going anywhere, and wanted to just remain comfortable, but that was backfiring on you now, because you can feel almost everything through the thin fabric.
As if arching into his touch wasn’t enough, Steve questions, “You want it, too, right?”
“Yeah, Steve,” catching him by the jaw to drag his head back up, you mewl against his lips, “I want you.”
His breath shudders from his lips before he draws you into another kiss. Taking his time to strip you down is nothing new, but the words he utters as he pushes his own pants from his hips are.
“I can’t stop thinking about how good you look on camera,” Steve groans, taking himself into his hand, stroking languidly as you shift beneath where he’s knelt himself over you on the bed. Fingers slipping down your thigh, he drags you a little closer, kissing the inside of your knee. You suck in a breath as he pushes himself along your core, spreading your wetness along his length, all the while with a heated look swirling in his dark eyes. When he finally positions himself against your entrance, your mouth falls open, sucking in a soft breath at the feeling of his familiar stretch, but it’s his words that set you on fire, “Now that’s a sight I’d like a picture of.”
It’s an off-handed comment, but now you can’t stop thinking about it. Drowning in the feeling of the slow, steady pace he sets, the idea has time to marinate in the back of your scrambled mind.
You’re reaching for him, brushing your fingertips against his abdomen as you moan his name, but Steve huffs, “Touch yourself,” as he drives his hips into yours once again.
Blinking up at him, you’re struck by the idea of how he would look if you took a picture of him at this very moment, and that thought is perhaps what sets the most foolish words on your tongue, “The camera— Get the camera.”
His hips stutter, and a choked sound comes from him, before he manages to form a sentence, “Are you serious?”
“Just for you,” you nod, and he abandons his grip on your thigh to reach for the polaroid that had wound up against the pillows.
His pace almost stills until he can get the camera in a good enough grip to lift it to his face, and that’s when his thrusts return in long, languid strokes that have you writhing beneath him with the assistance of your fingers pressing circles at your clit, “God, look at you.” His voice is heavy, wrapped around a moan of his own as he presses a hand down against your stomach, pushing your hips down onto his cock in a way that almost makes you cry out, “These are gonna’ turn out great.”
There’s a certain vulnerability to being in front of a camera, and stripped as bare as you were already, you’re practically raw, rubbed against him when the flash bursts upon your skin, camera shutter mixing with your moans as he fucks you slow into the mattress, “Steve, ah—!”
He abandons your stomach to take the photo that slips from the camera, fanning it until it develops enough for him to see the still image resulting from his touch, “Oh, look at how pretty you are.” He holds it out for you to see, but you barely manage a glimpse at yourself before he’s tossing the picture to the side, bringing the camera back up to his eyes.
“You’re— taking another?” you gasp, arching up into your own touch as he hits you deeper with the next roll of his hips.
“Yeah, that’s right. Just a few more—” Steve groans reaching to slip his hand down your thigh, pushing you open even more, “Can you spread your legs a little more— yeah, just like that—” and the shutter’s going off again, the image of you burned into the film as much as it will be in his memory.
You clench around him when the photograph falls onto your chest before he can reach for it, and you hope you’ll never forget the whimper that escapes him when he lowers the camera just slightly. A glimpse of teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep the sounds threatening to spill from him at bay, when he opens his eyes from the feeling, he sees you watching him in a way that seems to spell out your desire in every way words seem incapable of accomplishing right now.
All you can manage are your own sighs of pleasure, when his fingertips overlap yours to press into your clit. Lowering the camera to the bed, he refocuses on turning you into molten lava with every steady, sure stroke, building up the pleasure until it reached a boiling point. Lost somewhere between overstimulation and the peak of your desire, you’re both chasing this feeling and trying to draw it out for as long as it will last.
Your mouth is dry, so you lick your lips, thankful you’re able to think just barely enough to say, “I-It’s not fair. I won’t have any pictures of you.”
“You want some of me?” Steve repeats, as if he didn’t quite hear you right. For all he knows, he hallucinated it at this point, because he’s nearly out of his mind with how good you feel wrapped around him.
“I do,” you shift, using all the energy you have left to push him over, until you’re sitting on top of him. “It’s only fair.” Grinding your hips down into his, his hands catch against your thighs, aiding in your attempt at riding him with just a torturous pace as he had set.
“Oh— Okay,” his head falls back against the bed as he moans, “Yeah— We gotta’ be fair.”
The camera’s in your hands as soon as you can reach for it, but you’re slower than he was. So lost in the feeling that it takes you more time to drag your mind back to the task at hand, until his lips part when you drop your hips down onto him a little quicker than before.
That’s the one.
The snap of the camera seems to only make him rock himself further into your thrusts, and you wind up quite pleased with the way your picture turned out, “Steve, look—” He squeezes your thighs before one of his hands releases you in favor of taking the picture by his index and middle finger, bringing it up to his face.
“Oh, fuck,” he whines at the sight, and you place your hand on his chest in order to get enough leverage to drag yourself almost completely off his cock, just to drop your hips again, and he nearly shouts at the feeling. You’re both shaking, and it shows in the next picture you take of him, but the blurriness is hardly obstructing the view of him, still looking at the photo you’d snapped moments before it.
He falls apart just seconds before you do, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as the photograph falls from his grip. Fingers carding through his own hair as you ride him through the brunt of it, desperately chasing your own pleasure at this point, until it detonates with the fullness that comes from his shuddering release.
Steve’s weak call of your name falls on deaf ears as you nearly collapse atop him. Shivering white-hot pleasure down your spine until it settles in the involuntary fluttering of your core around him. He supplies a few overstimulated, shallow thrusts as his arms wrap around you, holding you to him for dear life, until you both manage to float down from the devastation you’ve reaped upon each other.
You’re just glad you didn’t drop the camera, because you would hate to have broken it.
Instead, it lays against the mattress much like the rest of you, though you don’t think you’ll ever be able to use it again without thinking back to this moment. Steve’s fingers trace up your spine, as you feel him slowly beginning to even out his breathing beneath your chest.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs into your ear, and you giggle against him.
“Yeah…” moving off of him, you collapse into the bed, careful to avoid any stray polaroid pictures evidencing your love-making that were strewn along the bed.
Steve tilts his head to look at you, chuckling, “I think I should get a video camera for your next birthday—”
Free of Jealousy
Paring: Rafe Cameron x Female Reader
Warning(s): Language, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of drug use
Summary: Rafe gets jealous at a Christmas party that forces him to finally make a move on Y/N
Author’s Note: Just wanted to say thank you to @twasthenightbeforehappiness for inspiring this story! I loved the idea and had to do something with it. Hope you like it! Sorry it’s not lengthy like my other stories. Oh, and Merry Christmas to those that celebrate!
(GIF credit to @whumpypepsigal)
As soon as December arrived, it seemed as if there was a party in Kildare every other day. From friends to family, Kooks and Pogues, everyone was getting into the spirit across the island. Tonight, Y/N found herself in the middle of a party hosted by none other than Topper Thornton.
People seemed to crowd every inch of the Thornton household, even spilling out into the backyard, around the heated pool. Y/N was perched on the kitchen island, sipping on holiday punch and chatting it up with her best friends. Kelce was standing beside the group of girls as he manned the playlist, which consisted of a perfect mix of Christmas songs and typical party favorites. The volume was so loud that you practically had to yell to be heard inside the house. It wasn’t long before the host of the party joined in their conversation. “Nice sweater, Top!” Y/N laughed as she playfully tugged on the oversized bow glued onto the middle of his home-made tacky sweater. “Hey! Don’t unwrap your present. It’s not Christmas yet!” He scoffed, making her laugh harder.
Little did she know that across the room, Rafe’s blood was boiling as he watched entire interaction that took place between the girl and his best friend. She was always very affectionate with her friends. Physical touch was her love language so she thought nothing of grasping Topper’s bicep when she belly laughed. The little touches they shared only made Rafe see red, not to mention how close they had to lean it to hers one another over the loud music. He so badly wanter to storm across the room and I physically tear Topper away from her so he could have her undecided attention. Instead, he chugged the remainder of his beer and headed outside, sharing a whisper with a few folks along the way that he knew would be interested in what he had to offer.
“Be right back!” Y/N yelled to her best friend, who looked at her with a confused glare as she pushed herself off the marble countertop. “Bathroom,” she clarified, which earned a nod of understanding from the other girl. She navigated throughout the crowd of people before finally making it to the appropriate door. As soon as she reached for handle, the door opened and she walked right into someone’s chest. “Ooh, sorry,” she looked up to find none other than Rafe towering over her, obvious cocaine residue under his nose and blown out pupils. “Jesus Christ, Rafe. It’s a Christmas party,” she scoffed, attempting to push past him so she could enter the bathroom but he didn’t budge. She dabbled in coke herself but he always seemed to take it too far. “You’re right, it’s Christmas. Relax,” he smirked, which made her roll her eyes as she successfully shoved past him, not bothering to spare another glance in his direction.
About an hour had passed and Y/N was busy with one of her friends, fixing another drink as Kelce cut the music, whistling loudly to gather everyone’s attention. “Everyone to the backyard. It’s game time, y’all!” He said, throwing a bright smile in her direction before heading to the back. Wordlessly, Y/N grabbed her drink and followed the crowd, only to find Topper on the back patio, beside a cheap folding table with a deck of cards in his hand. “Okay, I’ve got a couple things lined up. We’ve got the classics planned, like flip cup and beer pong but first, a card game,” he grinned, eyes searching the crowd for a volunteer. When his eyes landed on Y/N, his smile brightened as he motioned for her to join him. “Y/N, I need your help to demonstrate.” Rafe sat in the same spot he had been for the majority of the party after his run in with the girl, his eyes trained on her as she reluctantly joined his best friend’s side. “The object of the game is to have two teams. The first team to pass the card down the entire line, wins,” He turned to Y/N before he continued. “The catch is you can only move the card between players using your mouth, like so.” He placed the card against his lips, creating enough suction with his mouth that it wouldn’t fall as he grabbed the back of Y/N’s neck, pulling her close, while bending down slightly and pressing the card roughly against her lips. Her eyes went wide, clearly taken back by his movements, the card falling from her lips to the ground as the boy standing in front of her laughed. “If that happens, your team has to start all over. Who’s in?” The crowed cheered as numerous people stepped forward to participate. Meanwhile, Rafe watched, silently seething. Y/N turned on her heels to step back inside when a hand gripped her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. “Just this one round, please?” She signed, nodding her head before following Topper as he lead her to his team. “Of course,” she thought to herself. She could already tell where this was going. He was her friend and she cared for him as such but she had absolutely no romantic interest in him whatsoever. She was the second-to-last person in line as Topper stood at the rear. She was too focused on watching the other team assemble to notice who was in front of her. Before she knew it, the game began.
Everyone that was participating in the silly game laughed as they watched their teammates try to carefully pass the card. Meanwhile, the crowd around the two teams loudly cheered them on. Y/N was busy laughing at her friends on the other team to notice the commotion that occurred beside her. Rafe watched as it became closer and closer to her turn before he finally decided to make his move. He stormed over to the line of people and in one swift movement yanked the guy that was in front of her in line, shoving him out the way so he could take his place. He leaned down to the girl he didn’t know, taking the card with his mouth before quickly turning to Y/N. Finally realizing it was her turn, she turned to the boy who towered over her small frame. He leaned down as she pushed herself onto her tip toes, lips perfectly puckered as she waited for the transfer. However, Rafe had other intentions. He quickly dropped the card from his mouth, crashing his lips against hers as his hands tangled in her hair so she couldn’t go anywhere. She immediately froze until his familiar cologne overwhelmed her senses. She wasted no time and kissed him back, deepening the kiss as she roughly gripped the material of his button-up shirt. They were too consumed with each other to notice the distraught look on Topper’s face as he watched their heated encounter.
Y/N pulled away from him, desperate for air as she gazed up at the handsome boy in front of her, who couldn’t hide his proud smile if he tried. “We should have done that sooner,” she teased, nibbling on her bottom lip, her hands never leaving his shirt. He chuckled, his own hands finding purchase on her hips. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he mumbled before crashing his lips against hers again. But this time, his tongue entered her mouth with ease and her entire body melted against him.
Hello 🙌 so umm I really like your baby fushiguro's series so much- and I would like to request if possible. I don't know if you've done this before but how would the tenjiku gang react to teenager! fushiguro meeting them and saving them from a curse? Hopefully this is not too much!
scarlet witch! fushiguro! meets and saves tenjiku
jujutsu kaisen x reader x tokyo revengers
masterlist of the series
warning(s): major manga spoilers for tokyo revengers, mentions of scarletwitch's powers and existence of curses
i was undecided whether teen! scarlet! fushiguro! is dating mikey or not in this prompt, so like, i just made it vague, anyway, enjoy reading <3
tenjiku would probably be so confused as to why their fists and blunts weren't working on the monstrous being before them. not even the four heavenly kings could do a thing against it. their attempts were ineffective. if anything, every single one of them was rendered powerless for the first time.
"what is this thing anyway?" izana scoffed, clutching his injured arm and holding back a groan of pain. "shit, i think.. i'm poisoned."
kakucho exhaled sharply, "i have no idea. none of our hits are working against it."
just as the cursed spirit laughed with mockery, it lunged once again at them. it had no intention of leaving, not until they were all done for. as they seemingly lost hope and accepted their fate, a figure intervened and landed in front of them in a protective stance. was that a young woman in a high school uniform? huh?
"a girl?" rindou uttered, evidently surprised at your sudden appearance.
tenjiku watched in awe as you sent a large blast of red psionics in the cursed spirit's way, only for it to evade your attack. you made a straightforward lunge and used your wiggly-woos magic to constrict it, letting your psionics harshly burn and hurt it, and it didn't take long for it to get exorcised by your immense power. everyone was left in shock when the monstrous creature dissipated before them, as you landed back on the ground after fighting it in mid-air.
once the curse had been dealt with, your eyes flickered back to their normal color. you let out a relieved sigh before placing your hands on your hip. "thank goodness it was only a grade 1 curse."
"how did you do that?" was all izana could utter as he stared at you.
you turned around to face them, and got even more in awe. not only did you take down the thing all by yourself, but you were breathtakingly beautiful, especially up close and without the weighty and choking red aura surrounding you.
the sight of your [color] eyes with the wind blowing through your [color] hair made their mouth drop open. did you, a high school girl, defeat that thing? what were those red things you had earlier? they had so many questions in their heads that you could practically hear their thoughts.
just as you were about to answer the white-haired man, his knees buckled to the floor as he let out a painful cry. the poison was spreading throughout his veins. of course it would hurt, especially for someone who had no resistance to it.
"shit!" you used your chaos magic to instantly teleport to his side, earning yourself a series of gasps and surprised looks from his comrades.
"hey, it's okay. i got you. deep breaths, okay?" you took exaggerated your breathing for him to imitate you, which he did.
with the twitch of your fingers, you used your chaos magic to extract the poison and simultaneously patch him up, stitching fibers, tissues, and all. izana watched his wound close with the help of your red psionics. it felt different this time; it was warm. it was almost comforting, but it felt weird to be patched up with your chaos magic. at least it didn't feel heavy and ominous, unlike before when you were fighting.
"sorry, i know. it feels weird, but trust me. it should be done in a few more seconds." you continued to lock and twitch your red glowing fingers.
his purple eyes widened. did you just read his though—"yes, i just did. in fact, i can hear all of your thoughts right now, and i would very much appreciate it if all of you could tone it down." well, damn.
once you had finished patching him up, you moved on to the other guys that were badly injured, which were kakucho, ran, rindou, mochizuki, shion, and a few tenjiku members. you were so casual and nonchalant towards them when, in fact, they were literal, notorious delinquents. if only they knew how they were nothing compared to the things you've seen and faced before.
"what are you?" rindou decided to speak up, watching you use your red psionics to tend to his wounds.
"people call me a sorceress, and sometimes they even call me a witch." you explained briefly, "oh, and to answer your questions, that thing you saw earlier was a cursed spirit."
"sorceress? cursed spirit? what?" kisaki scoffed, obviously not believing the piece of information you were giving them.
"how were you able to kill it? why couldn't we kill it?" mochizuki inquired, furrowing his brows.
you pulled away from rindou after patching him and turned your head towards him, "a cursed spirit can only be exorcised or killed with the use of cursed energy, or in my case, chaos magic."
you made a small jazz movement with your hands. "no cursed energy or chaos magic, no damage done."
"this is preposterous. magic isn't real." kisaki grumbled, still in denial.
"that's what I'd like to think too. chaos magic isn't supposed to exist in the first place, but here i am born with it anyway." you continued talking, sauntering towards kisaki. in a split second, his glasses were suddenly in your hand. "it allows me to shape and manipulate things, including my own, without any incantation of spells."
"in short, reality can be whatever i want."
with that, his glasses morphed into a stick, but you immediately reverted it back to normal to hand it to him after getting the reaction you wanted from kisaki and the rest—like it was no big deal.
"how did you find us then?" kakucho had spoken up after some time.
"i'm sensitive to energies—may it be cursed energies or just auras in general." you shrugged your shoulders, tapping your chin with your index finger.
"huh, to think those things really exist." ran folded his arms across his chest, processing what you had just told him and everyone.
"yeah, crazy. i know." you simply smiled in return before dusting your clothes and getting ready to leave. "i'd love to talk to you guys more, but i need to go. my dad is probably looking for me now. he was supposed to pick me up from school."
"hey, wait up." izana took hold of your wrist all of a sudden.
"yeah?" you looked up to him, innocently tilting your head to the side, which made him and everyone else internally scream.
"thanks." izana answered sincerely and almost awkwardly. why was he being so nice to someone like you? it really got him questioning himself. "thanks for saving us."
"it's no problem! just doing my job." you smiled at izana, chuckling softly.
"will we see you again, pretty girl?" ran called out to you, grinning.
"if you guys need saving that is." you winked at the tall, lanky man with pretty twin-braids, before laughing. "just kidding! you guys seem tough, so i wouldn't worry much."
"i wouldn't mind being the damsel in distress if you're the one saving us." rindou, the younger haitani, shamelessly flirted which you playfully rolled your eyes at.
"what's your name?" izana asked, almost too desperate as he seemed to refuse to let go of your wrist.
"the name's [name]. fushiguro [name]."
so, that was the name of their guardian angel. not only did you have a pretty face and a pretty heart, but a pretty name too. with that, you disappeared into a red mist and left the rest of tenjiku gang, especially the former s-62 generation who founded the group, bewitched.
pairing/s: marc spector x reader, steven grant & reader, mr. knight & reader, jake lockley & reader, moon knight & reader
summary: reader's relationship with each and every alter of the moon system
warning/s: DID, fluff, hurt/comfort, NO POWERS, mr. knight being a therapist, marc spector is OOC in a way that he is lovestruck by you, he/they pronouns for steven, jacked moon knight, steven is the host and original personality of the body instead of marc
note/s: i love moon knight i swear i cant wait for the next episodes to come; get ready cos this is gonna be a LONG one
masterlist || navigation
When you first met the system, you met them as Steven Grant, the gift shop seller of a museum.
You were the new tour guide for school kids and, frankly, you weren't all that well-versed in Egyptian Mythology. And against Donna's wishes, Steven was the one who educated you on the stories and legends.
The both of you became good friends, with you visiting the shop after your tours to jest and chat with Steven and eventually going out to malls and parks to hangout.
You showed him to let themself free, to enjoy the little things in life and to just not care. In return, they showed you the wonders of Egyptian mythology, literature, and even tried teaching you how to read Hieroglyphs. Steven showed you how to be creative and imaginative, something you struggled with as you were more objective and rational.
Eventually, you and Steven were the best of friends, practically stuck to the hip, with your own inside jokes and laughs.
Little did you know, there were more of them.
The next alter you met was Jake Lockley.
It was honestly a mistake on his part, meaning to hide behind Steven's persona to keep you in the dark about their diagnosis. Sure, the system trusted you, but they all were still undecided on whether to tell you or not.
The night it happened, you and Jake, masking as Steven, something you didn't know, were out in a bar to drink. At first it was all fun, you joking around and Jake laughing out his belly laugh; Unusual to Steven's giggles, but you cross it off as him just being drunk.
Yes, it was all fun, until a man was advancing on you like a predator. Now, he didn't do anything bad, per se, just very persistent, but he didn't know how to read the situation. The situation being Jake answering all his questions for you with a defensive and angry tone.
"Hey, mate, c'mon let the pretty person answer for themself," The man said, which somehow ticked Jake off. You were surprised, wide eyed, as he stood up to grab the man by his collar.
"Listen here, pal," Jake started off, his New York accent coming out, "Do they lookin' like they interested? Be glad I ain't puchin' your face right here n' now, punk."
The man looked like he understood, but Jake hadn't let go of him yet. So, you stood up right after him and carefully touch Jake's arm.
"Steven, let's just go." Jake glanced at you and nodded, finally dropping the man down and leading you towards the exit after handing a few bills to the bartender.
Luckily, your flat wasn't far from the bar, so you and Jake started walking in that direction. You ponder in silence, wondering about what happened back there at the bar. it was curious, and you couldn't help but call out to him, "Steven..."
Jake stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and sighed. He looked at you with heavy eyes with a faraway look, but one blink and he's focusing on you once more.
"Let's be talkin' more at that flat of yours, yeah?" He raised his brow in question, and you could only nod in agreement.
That same night, you met Mr. Knight. He was the one who explained their diagnosis to you.
"So, you're telling me there are multiple of you inside?" You asked, trying to wrap your head around the fact that your best friend had a diagnosis as serious as this. "Can I ask who I'm talking to right now?"
"... My name is Mr. Knight," He introduced, "I take on the role of a caretaker for the system. That means I take care of the body's physical and mental health."
"I see..." You trailed off, feeling conflicted about all of the information given to you.
"If you're considering breaking your friendship with us, I suggest you do it while I'm still out. The others are not as forgiving as I am."
"What? No! I don't wanna stop being friends with Steven— With you all," You exclaimed, waving your hands around as if to fan that thought away. "I just need some help understanding this better, I need guidance on what and what not to do so I can still be the best friend I can be."
Mr. Knight was silent for a moment, letting your words sink into their body's bones. He was honestly surprised that you wanted to stick with them, with their diagnosis and all. It wasn’t easy to deal with themselves, who’s to say someone outside could deal better?
But weren’t you worth letting in and showing everything? You were the only one who had treated Steven with kindness where everyone barely gave him the bare minimum of human decency. You were the only one who cared and listened to Steven's rambles, and frankly, that was enough for Mr. Knight.
"So, we'll teach you what you need to know."
You have only spoken to three of the alters of the moon system; Steven, Jake, and Mr. Knight. Apparently, the others either want to wait for the right moment or are scared of meeting you. You promised and told Mr. Knight that you wouldn't hurt any of them, but alas to no avail.
Jake told you that he was a cab driver in New York inside their inner world, a place where alters go when they're not fronting, and you can’t help but find that kind of cool. The thought of driving strangers around was anxiety inducing, but would the gossip be worth it?
"Of course it is, lil cub!" Jake exclaimed, "Bein' a cab driver means that I get the hottest and juiciest gossip of the whole town! I even say a thing or two to throw em of their rhythm."
Mr. Knight, however, was different, He was a therapist in their inner world, so it was no wonder how fast he understood and gave advice to you on your problems and questions. You can talk about anything and everything with him; He taught you different perspectives on subjects and opened you mind to new possibilities.
"Life is like a flower, dear," He said to you, "Some struggle to bud, some struggle to bloom, but when their petals grow out, it's the most beautiful thing ever, unique yet finding a place for themselves in a garden filled with other gorgeous flowers."
And Steven, lovely and loyal Steven had gotten more talkative than ever since your discovery of their DID. He talked and complained about the fact that some alters don't do their chores and that one alter named Marc cannot stop talking about you.
" I swear that man is head over heels for you, mate! Don't tell him I told you that," Steven said, "He talks about you all the time at the flat and whenever we're co-conscious, it's always 'where's your friend? when can i meet them?' but he never comes out when you're here!"
You found it flattering that one of them had a crush on you, but were confused on how a relationship would work in the first place.
"It's just like any other relationship," Mr. Knight explained, "Just that the person you like or love has other people sharing the same body, but that doesn't necessarily mean you're dating all of the people."
Thank god you have Mr. Knight to educate you whenever you're confused.
Meeting Moon Knight was... an experience, to say the least.
You tried to convinced Steven to go to the gym with you, since you both were not notorious for working out, but he, understandably, refused. However, they did tell you that an alter was interested in going with you, and you heartily agreed.
Until you regretted it.
Moon had given you a training regimen that rivaled Captain America's. It was heat, cardio, core, biceps, triceps, thighs, calves and everything else in between. You were panting, your heart beat palpitating, and you were sure you could see shadows in your vision until Moon popped in your periphery.
"Are you... alright?" He asked you, and you almost get the urge to scoff and give him the finger, but he sounded so concerned that you melted immediately.
"I'm sore and tired, but I'll be fine, Moon, thank you." Patting him on the arm, your eyes almost bulge out at the hard steel of his muscles; You definitely did not feel this muscle on Steven, otherwise they wouldn't be such a good cuddle buddy. "How'd the body get so... jacked?"
Moon shifted from side to side, uncomfortable with the sudden focus on his defined arms. "The body slightly changes with each of us, I handle all the work outs and keeping the body healthy, so our brain identifies me with this type of strong muscles."
"How does that even work?" You ask.
"I don't know," He answers.
It wasn't until after the work out that you finally meet Marc. The guy that had a crush on you for months, according to Steven.
You had noticed that on the walk back to your flat, Moon had gotten quiet with the constant and repetitive motion of walking. Recognising the signs of a switch, you softly paused the body and guided them to sit down on the sidewalk.
Steven had mentioned once that they liked having their hand held during a switch, it was grounding for them, so you held their hand through and through until their head slowly rose up.
"Welcome back," You said quietly, careful to not cause any loud sounds. You don't know who's fronting yet, but you smiled anyway.
You heard a sharp inhale coming from them, their brown eyes wide and round as they focused on you. A deep flush warmed their cheeks as they looked down to your joint hands.
"He-Hello," their voice deepened and made your heart skip a beat. "Uh— Where are we?" They asked you.
"We're on the sidewalk near my place. Would you like to come?" You tried to be as non-threatening as you can, but from the way they smiled, you could say you were doing a good job.
"I'm Marc, by the way, Marc Spector," He introduced himself, and stood up from the ground, bringing you along with him.
"Nice to finally meet you, Marc, I've heard a lot about you," You said and chuckled at the way Marc's blush burned brighter. You started leading him towards your flat, still holding his hand.
When you arrived, you turned to look at Marc, who looked at you like you were something special. That made you blush and shy all of the sudden.
"Well, this is my place." You gestured around your living room and small kitchen, "Would you like some water? Go sit down on the couch and rest your eyes, Mr. Knight mentioned you guys have a bad headache when you switch."
Marc silently did what you told him to do, but instead of closing his eyes, he kept them on you as you poured him a drink and walked over to him.
"Thank you," He smiled, and you felt your heart flutter once more. Was it palpitations again? No, this ached differently. Then what was it?
Maybe you'll find out in time.
Traitors and Tools (Requested)
TW (spoilers, violence, and a lot of blazer hatred. Also you say prick once)
Clementine x Gender-neutral Reader (you/your/yourself pronouns)
Genre: N/A (Angst??)
Relation: Platonic (View-Related)
Authors note– you live with Clementine and you hear about what happens with Blazer. You get him back :]
(Reader is not confirmed as human or companion)
You had been living with Clementine for a while. Her home was nice, and despite being wanted from practically any Sentinel and Peacemaker here in midtown, she was friendly. Especially to you who she considered a close Ally. You always wondered how some people could dislike the outsiders. It could be the perspective some put on it.
Midtown was, in all sense, not great. Companions were constantly arrested for no reason, and given long sentences. You never went to the jail they had but its sure scary sounding. Not only that the place had some grumpy people all around. From the store guy to the Neco Corp facility guards.
Besides everything wrong though, there was always good. As some would say, there's no good without the bad and no bad without the good. This place proved that. Mostly everyone here was against the Setinals and rebellious despite the circumstances. There was plenty to do within the area, and the sights were phenomenal. The place was beautiful and you had your own safe haven with Clementine. Often you would be like you were now, with Clem and you staring out the window as she spoke about her stories to you. Sometimes you would do the same as well, but you enjoyed just listening to her with the rhythmic rain hitting the window.
Other times you would be sleeping in her comfortable place. The upstairs bit was your favorite because of the sounds and look of it all. The little tent sheltering you as you slumbered. Not only was Clem and her place amazing, you were glad you could help her by staying. It kept people away, knowing you lived there. It made the apartment seem less suspicious, even with the boards and the door always being locked. Nobody knew Clem lived there first, all they knew was that you did now. They saw you as another neighbor. Going out to the bar or stores, hanging out in the complex area, or just relaxing inside. Because of your consistency of seeming unsuspecting, nobody said anything. Nobody thought " Hey, maybe that rebel outsider lives in that abandoned place. "
Clementine had given you a couple things and a tour to help you. Her contact was listed in your pocket and you never really commented how she didn't know his name. Besides that she told you about her plan to reach the outside. You were still undecided on going but you weren't going to not help. She denied your request saying, " There's no need to get involved, you should stay safe "
You knew she had it under control. Often times you would look at her bulletin board as she typed on the computer in the room. You two were happy considering everything. She enjoyed your company.
Then one day a small cat came along. You were coming back from a walk as you noticed the small orange creature walking out of the complex. You had bent down and offered your hand, to which the small cat nudged and accepted your pets. It was strange to see any organic life anymore, but cats were agile. So seeing them versus a lizard or something was not as suprising.
After petting the cat, you moved on and back into the complex. You had noticed the younger companions were blasting their music again. It came as a surprise until you noticed the shattered cameras.
Not long after passing them by with a wave, you made it back home and talked with Clementine. She told you all about the plan and how the cat you saw earlier was sent by Zbaltazar. Oh. You'd heard of him before. He was Clementine's friend down in Antvillage. She always said he was wise and nice to be around. He was another of the four outsiders. The other two you heard of after his name your first few days staying here. Momo and Doc. They both lived down in the slums. Apparently Momo was the last one to join and unwilling to go with the group out of the slums.
Ah, you were getting off track -
For a while you and Clementine patiently waited for the cat's return. You sat down at the table and chatted, Clem periodically peeking out of the boards to see if she could spot the orange ball of fur. With no avail.
" Clem, sit down " you offered your hand and she sighed, walking back over and taking a seat next to you.
" Sorry. Do you think he might be confused? "
" You gave him a description, I'm sure it's okay. He's probably out scratching something. Give it time and please, stop worrying "
She nodded and looked back twords the planks covering the window. You shook your head and placed your hand on hers.
" C'mon, I'm sure you could tell me another story to pass the time? " You give a small smile.
" Oh! I have one with the companions back at Antvillage. I used to teach them and I remember once - "
She stopped mid sentence and you were about to ask before you saw a blue light through the crack and jumped.
" Setenials "
You hurried to give Clementine your pen, watching her disappear back into the room as you went to watch the hole.
Luckily there weren't many, just one or two. Peacemakers we're slowly gathering companions up and dragging some out of houses as they sealed off the entrance.
You both were trapped.
You turned around and climbed up onto the elevated place above the drawers, opening the window that was there, surrounded by plants and other things. You moved most of it out of the way and watched as Clementine came from behind you and stepped out onto the ledge.
" Wait for me - "
" No, you stay. I can't let them know I was here, lest they search the whole town next. I'll be at the club with Blazer "
You looked at her nervously then sighed, deciding she was smart in leaving you behind here. You could still safely guard this place and maybe keep the peacemakers distracted as she met up with the cat and Blazer.
" Hm. I'm surprised you know his name now "
" Me too. I'll see you later, okay? I still owe you that story! "
You smiled and put your hands on the open windows ledges. " Don't you forget it, Clem "
She starting moving and you stopped her.
" Hey wait - "
" What is it? "
You paused and then looked at her, offering a hand. " Don't die on me. Okay? "
Clementine took a moment and then took your hand in her cold one as she smiled.
" Wouldn't dream of it "
You watched as she made her way into the alley and then shut the window as you heard a knock. They made it.
You quickly ran over and opened the door to be greeted with a Peacemaker escorting you out of you home without so much as a warning or reason. Though you knew what it was about. Nobody else did when they knocked though. Luckily for you they weren't questioning anyone, just leading them out to wait at the gate, and that's what you did.
You stood by the entrance and watched as the Sentinels moved into a guard-like position. You were worried if the cat might make it through. Maybe you could stop him on his way? But he didn't know you. Perhaps you should just stay out of it like Clementine said.
You started to get nervous. Clementine was gone much longer than you thought she would be. It was late, from what you could tell with no sky or time calculator, and she still wasn't back. The Peacekeepers and Sentinels had moved on once they realized there was nothing here. You wondered if she was still at the club. No she couldn't be…what would she still be doing there? Did she forget about you here? Did she have to abandon you? No.
No you knew Clementine. Clem wouldn't abandon anyone.
You were sitting by the window she left through earlier, waiting patiently for her to climb back in at any moment, or knock on the door. She could get past the Sentinels, she'd done it before. Clementine was brave.
You tapped your foot on the ground impatiently as you heard the metal rustling outside. It sounded like footsteps, and sure enough, Clem appeared by the window. Her screen showed her sweating and she was slow to climb back into the window even with your assistance.
" Clem! What took you so long? "
After you helped her in she sat down by the window and you shut it quickly.
" A lot happened - the Sentinels caught me and the cat "
" What?! How - " your voice drifted off as you heard the news. It all shocked you. Clementine was careful to avoid those things and the club was big enough for her to sneak around unnoticed so how?
" Blazer. He tied me up and when the cat got there, he left us to be taken and left for dead in that jail - " she spoke calmly about it. She was still brave, you bet. Even in a dire situation.
" Said he cares more about money then compadre, and that it was nothing personal "
" He left you to rot in that jail for money..? "
Clementine nodded and you looked at the ground in thought. It was as if your body just turned off. You couldn't think despite feeling like you were. You were full of thoughts and questions. Not for Clem though - no.
You were gonna ask Blazer.
You stood up and jumped down the shelves.
" Hey - where are you going? "
You picked up your hammer, it got you through a lot of tough times from whatever attacked you. Though the far range was definitely better, you didn't have such options.
" Going to confront the traitor "
It was your turn to stay calm in a situation. You felt determined, with one objective. Your mind was set and it was strange to experience.
" You can't do that - he could know that you're with me or that I got out of jail! "
You turned around to watch her jump after you as you stood your ground.
" I won't tell him anything. I can ask you for the story later right? You still owe me it "
You gave her a smile and she stopped.
" Okay. I will just… " Clem knew you better than anyone. You'd become close during these times. It was reassuring to know she trusted you. " As you said, don't die on me "
You had walked around looking for him. You checked the places you could for someone like him. The bar, the club again, even the store. Well…what you could check in the store. The owner was still talking with a Sentinel about the stolen clothes. You doubted he would figure out who stole it or where it went.
Luckily for you it didn't take much longer to find him. It still took longer than you hoped but here he was.
Nearby to Neco Corp, not in the usual alleyway he stood at. He was leaning against the wall opposite the Neco Corp doors. Everything was locked down from stealing the atomic battery. You were happy Clementine had gotten her plan to work. You wondered when you two would leave as well. Eh, not your main concern.
" Blazer! " You shouted, grabbing his attention rather easily.
He didn't know you, sure you seemed familiar but that was only because you had been around a couple times and his sensors knew your face.
" Get lost " He spoke as you approached him, unthreaded by you and probably how pissed off you looked. It's not like you were exactly happy.
He stood his ground, acting as if he wasn't worried about anything. Such a prick.
" You're gonna die alone, you know that? And nobody will remember you. All because you're as selfish as a murderer with no morals "
He just stared at you. What?
" What are you talking about? "
He stopped leaning against the wall and looked at you straight on. You didn't give him an answer to his question though, instead you raised your hammer and placed a blow right on the side of his head. A good bit too because you saw the metal dent from impact, and his screen changed on that side.
You were angry at him. Disgusted by him.
You landed another blow to his torso and arm as he collapsed from the pressure of it all. You would break him until he was nothing besides one of those abandoned companions in the mucks of the slums. Maybe you'd throw him off the edge, watch him fall into the ruins down below. Who knows what went on down there, maybe everyone was as foolish as him. Ravaged by greed and selfishness.
His screen had turned off by the time you were done, and you didn't know if you killed him. Maybe you did. You didn't want to try and make sure though. If he lived he knew further to not go anywhere near you, and you were gonna forever stick with Clementine. Until these walls caved in.
You tossed the hammer on him and turned around to go back home. Hopefully Clem was honest about sharing with you that story. You didn't wanna hear anything else about Blazer, but you would get satisfaction knowing what he'd done caught up to him in the form of a few hits from you.
When you got back home, Clementine greeted you with a hug and asked what happened. Of course you told her what happened. She did like Blazer at first, maybe even hoping she would have another friend but after everything that happened. She was happy for what you did. In some way you had avenged her.
You and Clementine helped each other climb the shelves and make it back up to the window. This time, you left it open to watch the rain fall more clearly. It was relaxing. You had calmed down plenty, in fact your anger subsided back when you hit him those final times.
You waited and watched as Clementine sat down next to you, her screen neutral like usual. She should have escaped. By now she should have ran away to the subway and boarded with the cat to leave. Instead she came here. Back to you and this forsaken town. You wanted to question why she didn't, but in some part of your head you already knew the reason for it. Even if you weren't sure.
" So are you ready to hear it? "
You jumped a bit and looked at her to see she was doing the same.
" Yeah, you owe me "
You smiled and she looked out the window.
" I do "
Final note: In the game Clementine gets chased by Sentinels until the end. In order to do this request I changed it up just a bit so she managed to get back home after ditching the car and escaping from their sights. Hope you enjoyed it and didn't mind that little change!
What does Scar's magic girl wheelchair look like?
UNDECIDED you all are increasingly learning how much my visuals exist as single broad stroke ideas and no actual details here huh. but the idea is that it's a magical wheelchair, at least, so it can look a little impractical as needed. he also gets the ability to give it transformations for certain attacks/situations to give himself better mobility. for example, i think it can transform into a thing that can fly, or a thing that can climb, etc, as it comes up, although it takes practice for him to handle doing that. my brain keeps on going "it is gold or glittery and pink" but i think what his wheelchair looks like would also depend on what the overall magical girl design looks like - it would work best, after all, if however it looked, it looked as much a part of scar's magical girl outfit as anything else!
COLLEGE BOYS| GOM + KAGAMI
request prompt: hi when you are done can you do headcanons on how the GOM and kagami would act in college and probably their majors please? thank you! and i love your theme!
a/n: oh! and thank you for saying that you love my theme.
黒子 テツヤ TETSUYA KUROKO
⤷the major i think kuroko would have is early childhood education and teaching
⤷i say this because kuroko is good at english & history, and he wants to be a kindergarten teacher so that would work.
⤷i think kuroko would be very quiet in college, but also keep himself around his friends and stuff, not sure if he'll continue playing basketball but he'll probably play club.
⤷kuroko would probably be getting followed around by momoi so you would probably see them a lot together.
黄瀬涼太 RYOTA KISE
⤷this man is a flirt, he's going to be flirting around with all the girls, he loves the attention he gets from the girls.
⤷his major would be english because that's literally the only subject he's good at.
⤷i think he'll still be playing basketball, and he'll have the same number as well.
⤷you would probably see him hanging around with aomine.
青峰大輝 DAIKI AOMINE
⤷yeah, that man never comes to class... seriously, he will literally be in the school courtyard looking in his magazines.
⤷momoi would be blowing up his phone telling him to come to class and get a move on too.
⤷aomine was only good at japanese history so his major would probably be japanese studies.
⤷he would definitely be still playing basketball, he would skip a few practices but so he doesn't lose his scholarship he probably wouldn't miss many.
緑間真太郎 SHINTARO MIDORIMA
⤷he quit basketball because he wanted to become a doctor, he tried so hard to avoid the GOM & Kagami but they bothered him every day.
⤷midorima studied biology with a minor of medical genetics, and he had such a good gpa it was insane.
⤷even though he quit basketball he still went to some games, and then acted like he didn't care.
⤷you would probably find him in the library or in his dorm mostly.
紫原敦 ATSUSHI MURASAKIBARA
⤷that man is always at the cafeteria, somewhere where there is food, he'll be there, always.
⤷mura would probably be in culinary school, something that has to do with cooking.
⤷since he's in culinary school, he would probably only go to class if they are cooking something interesting.
⤷he'll visit the GOM at their college sometimes, probably to grab something to eat or watch a few games.
赤司 征十郎 SEIJURO AKASHI
⤷akashi would major in business, he would probably want to start his own legacy & empire.
⤷you would probably see akashi with midorima, in the library, you would probably also see him playing shogi with a couple of his acquaintances
⤷you would probably see him talking to the GOM sometimes too, he still likes to associate himself with them from time to time when he isn't busy.
⤷or you would probably see him relaxing outside laying on the grass or just doing his homework.
火神 大我 TAIGA KAGAMI
⤷you cannot miss that man, he is so loud especially on campus.
⤷it's canon that a lot of college girls are fond of him, so yeah prepare a swarm of girls, trying to get him to teach them basketball or get his number.
⤷if he doesn't get drafted by the NBA before he graduates from high school, i think he would be a undecided major cause he barely wanted to go but since he's on a basketball scholarship he probably went anyway.
⤷kagami plays basketball with aomine & kise and yes they be going at it, they make a good team.
have a request? they're open :)
©2022 daikiluvree━ all rights reserved. comments, likes, and reblog are highly appreciated. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years.
Category: SMUT (18+)
Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex
Word Count: 5.7k
NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰
Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.
Truly, it was pathetic.
Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.
Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.
At least, I thought I was.
And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.
I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?
Honestly? I blame the FBI.
If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...
Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.
Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...
I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.
He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.
Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.
Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.
"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."
Fuck. That fucking nickname...
"Spencer... It has."
When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.
I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.
Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.
Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.
"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"
I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."
Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."
How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.
Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."
"N— I am not!"
"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"
"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."
I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.
"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."
He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.
I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.
All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.
He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.
That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.
Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.
In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.
I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.
And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.
I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.
"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.
"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.
And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.
I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...
But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."
I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"
"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."
I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.
The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.
When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.
"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."
I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.
"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.
Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.
And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.
It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.
On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.
So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...
Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?
Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.
Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."
I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."
"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.
I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."
With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."
"Well, good. You deserve it."
After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.
And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"
"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."
"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."
There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."
"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"
"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.
"Am I wrong?"
"I... I don't..."
"Ha! I'm not wrong!"
The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.
"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"
I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"
There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."
"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"
"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"
"What, you think I'd joke about that?"
Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.
"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.
Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."
I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."
She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."
I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.
I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.
I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.
Later today... Whatever.
The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.
Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.
A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.
Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.
Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."
I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."
"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."
"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"
His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.
Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.
"Are you... gonna let me in?"
The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.
Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.
And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.
And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.
The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.
Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.
Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.
"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"
He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."
"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."
That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.
Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."
Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.
Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.
He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.
Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.
But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.
Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.
His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"
As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."
"Fair... But still..."
Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.
And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."
I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.
Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)
I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."
No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.
Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...
God, and those was only his hands...
The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.
I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.
"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."
What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.
He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.
Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.
No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.
I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.
Now I didn't have to imagine.
Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...
I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.
So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.
"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.
I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.
He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"
I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."
Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.
And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.
Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.
"Promise not to sting me?"
I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."
He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.
It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.
That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.
His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.
Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.
His name was all I could manage.
"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.
"Can you be more specific?"
How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.
I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.
"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.
My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.
I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.
By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.
Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."
I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."
He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."
"I... Is that a bad thing?"
"It's a strange thing..."
He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."
With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"
Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."
"I was highly amused."
I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."
Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.
"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.
Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."
"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.
"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."
He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.
"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."
Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.
All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
"I know you won't, Honeybee."
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FratBoys! BTS x Comatose! Reader
Main mlist. Previous chapter. Previous NSFW chapter.
You get into a freak accident and wake up to your body surrounded by seven crying men. Or your unrequited love doesn’t seem so unrequited after all.
Chapter Rating: T (For Teen Audiences and Up)
A/N. Hi. I lied. I can't seem to stop updating oh my goodness lmao. Do enjoy and tell me what you think. Don't be afraid to comment, I don't bite. Also, I can't seem to stop playing Spy x Family's Ending Theme in my mind on a loop help me.
Chapter 6: The One with the Magic
The drive to your house had been filled with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, and as the nine of you were now seated around the classy living room of the Bangtan mansion, you nervously await the gavel to hit the podium.
"I won't lie. This is a fucking nice house." Eugene sips his red wine as if tasting any sort of imperfections, ranking it, undecided whether it was one of the best he's had or the worst he's hated but you know your boss loves cheap wine more than anything and so you bite your lip in anticipation, unaware that the small action was so enticing some of your companions had to shift to hide the growing outlines beneath their pants.
Once he sets his glass down at the coffee table however, Seokjin who couldn't take it anymore tugs Yoongi who gratefully tags along with him to the kitchens with a measly excuse of preparing dinner, while the rest are left to be fed to the wolf.
Namjoon is especially fearing for everyone's safety, measuring the gravity of the circumstances as his eyes dart to yours in a sort of plea-- your employer had taken it upon himself to sit by you and any advances on the boys' parts might be taken as a sign of aggression.
At least for the tarot master.
The Bangtan leader clears his throat awkwardly. "So...welcome to our home, sir. "
The maknae line are teetering on the edge of their seats, and you know they'd rather chop onions or clean shit out of the toilets than be an audience to this escalating persecution. Because you know and they know that men in red lipsticks and expensive silk suits did not come to play.
Not when the verdict wasn't out yet.
Eugene claps his hands, a sharp contrast to the tense silence enveloping the room and all backs straighten. You could practically hear their balls recede while the noises in the kitchen come to a pause before restarting with much fake alacrity.
"Let's get down to business, boys. Time is of the essence after all. " He fishes out what looks to be his favorite oracle card set (all gilded in emerald green) and a scrying pendant, a real amethyst triangular stone dangling from the silver chain.
You gulp. If he's brought that then--shit!
You briskly flicker your stare to the occultist in disbelief and as if the boys all sense your nerves, Seokjin and Yoongi pop in, bringing forth appetizers all while inching a bit to where you were, flanking behind you in the couch.
They wore matching black cat aprons that were it not for the gravity of the situation, you would find it hilarious.
They all warily stare at the deck of cards in his hand, having never seen one before.
Your lovely boss hands the pendant to you and you catch it, eyes watching your every movement. "Eugene, this is--"
"Shush, child and let the master begin. "
Oh shit, he is serious.
You forcibly do not breathe for a second or two as the show commences.
"WHAT IN THE FUCKING FUCK?!"
Bellows, screams, and shouts all mingle in one moment as the Yin Yang Quatro's floor master spreads the cards in the air, floating them to a steady position in front of him one by fucking one like some fascinating magical performance one would pay good money for on any given day.
The only one unfazed here is you however having been privy to his skills countless of times for his high end clients such as politicians and celebrities, as you contain a sigh--Eugene was flashy but you loved him for it anyway.
Ignoring the hands at your shoulders as if to protect you from whatever the fuck was going on, you focus instead as three cards come to a stop in front of you.
You open your palm upwards and they readily reveal themselves to you.
These were his phrase Oracle cards so the meanings were pretty clear in the reading:
To move forward you should not let things be.
Okay, pretty damn straight.
Beware neglect for it shall cost you a fee.
Neglect? Does it mean that you have a time limit or something? Well shit.
You read the last card, eyes widening in shock.
Love will save you.
What the fuck! These seven men don't even love you! At least not that you know of.
You don't think they even like you in the romantic sense?
The occultist tilts his head to the side, seeming to consider for a moment before snapping his wrist and the cards fly back neatly in a pile in his hand.
Several gasps resound once again as he keeps the deck back inside his suit pocket and checks his watch. He nods minutely, all the while you eye the pendant which has now taken on a silver hue.
That was definitely purple a second ago.
"Doll, if you would?" Eugene gestures to your neck and you immediately clasp it around yourself to the light protests of your boys -who knows what the fuck that necklace does!- who instantly shut their mouths with one look from the tarot master himself.
He stands, circling the room as you all remain watchful before he's kneeling down on the center rug, tracing patterns over it with his index finger, mumbling phrases which only you were now familiar with.
At your small gasp, you are hauled against a sturdy chest --Yoongi-- while Jin's broad shoulders shield you. The rest of the room have given your boss a wide berth to do his shit.
And when he finishes, you flinch feeling your necklace heat up only for you to get practically flung to the center to everyone else's extreme concern but yours and Eugene's.
Your bare feet land on the soft mass of carpet, a circle of light surrounds your frame, before it vanishes just as quickly.
And then a ghostly form shimmers into existence.
"Hi, Byul. Long time no speak." Eugene smirks, as the long haired witch narrows her gaze at him.
You gulp. This was Moon Byul, the former owner of Yin Yang Quatro, Eugene's estranged sister and someone who was supposed to be dead.
Eugene turns to you cheerily. "No one better who could help than a real ghost, huh?"
You hear someone (might be Hoseok) faint in the background.
This was going to be a long evening.
𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥: deep conversations at 1AM
𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 1,038
Letting out a sigh, you stare blankly up at the pitch black ceiling of the Kamado family living room.
“You’re still awake?”
Suppressing a startled yelp, your fingers smack against your lip as you go to cover your mouth.
“Tanjirou, I didn’t realize you were up,” you say, rolling onto your side. “I thought you were asleep hours ago?” From your spot on the couch—the spot that both Nezuko and Tanjirou had insisted you take, and the spot you won fair and square from a hasty game of rock-paper-scissors with Zenitsu—you can see the outline of him sitting up beside you on the floor.
“Ah, well, I just happened to wake up.” There’s a sheepish lilt in the quiet timbre of his voice, a rustling of cloth as you imagine him cupping his nape with a hand. “But more importantly, is everything okay? Are you having a hard time sleeping?” He asks, quiet and hardly daring to disturb the delicate silence over the other sleeping bundles on the floor. “Do you want me to tell you a story?”
“Pfft—” you press the fabric of your borrowed blanket around your face to stifle the laugh. “I’m not a kid, Tanjirou, we’re practically the same age.”
Again, that sheepish intonation. “Ah, well, sometimes Nezuko will fall asleep faster if I tell her a story. Oh! But no one is supposed to know that, so…”
You chuckle. “I won’t mention it. No, I’m good—I’m just thinking a lot.”
“About what?” He asks, suppressing a yawn.
“Everything you can possibly think about at…” you take a moment to glance at your phone’s screen, wincing at the brightness. “One in the morning.”
Tanjirou hums. “Like… about aliens?”
You suppress another bout of surprise laughter. “Something like that. I mean, our planet is tiny compared to the size of the universe—and there are other universes and galaxies millions of lightyears away—no way we’re the only sentient, intelligent species, right?”
Rustling as Tanjirou shifts; in the darkness you see the faint movement of him resting his temple on his palm. “Do you think other species have tried to contact us and their message got lost?”
“It was probably sent to our spam folder,” you joke. “I don’t think we’ll be around to see any kind of alien introduction to earth but it would be cool.” You lay closer to the edge to hear him better. “I don’t even want to think about aliens while my own future is undecided.”
“Do you mean what’ll happen after high school?” Tanjirou asks. You hum.
“I mean, sure I could go to university, but what if I don’t end up getting in? I could probably end up getting a job but I’m just undecided.” A little laugh rises in your chest before you squash it. “And then after I get a job, what about marriage? I probably won’t end up getting married, but—”
“What? But why not?” Tanjirou asks, surprise obvious in his voice. “Does that mean you don’t want to have a family?”
You shrug, invisible in the darkness of the room. “I mean, it’s tough to see myself married with kids. Oh, but Tanjirou, I think you’d be a great father,” you smile at him, hoping he can see the outline of it. “I mean, you’re patient and kind and you’re good with kids! There’s no doubt they would love you very much.”
“Y-you think so?” Tanjirou says, something akin to wonder in his voice. “But… I think you’d also make a good parent. I mean, you’re intelligent and compassionate—you have a good head on your shoulders.”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, “maybe I just can’t imagine having anyone who would want that with me, you know? It’s a big commitment getting married and I think it would be nice but…”
“You’re wonderful,” Tanjirou says then, quiet and honest amongst the calm of your other sleeping friends. “Whoever you choose to marry would be lucky to have you.”
“W-well, I would probably have to date someone before thinking about marriage,” you reason, face warm. “And I don’t… well, I don’t think I’ll be doing that anytime soon.”
“Do you like anyone?” Tanjirou asks, perking up amidst a series of rustling. “Ah, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—I don’t want to pry.”
“It’s alright,” you smile into darkness, “You’re sweet, Tanjirou. Whoever you choose to marry would be lucky to have you, too.” The two of you remain silent in the moments that followed, digesting the conversation like a secret shared. “I do, have someone I like, I mean. But I don’t think they feel the same.”
“There’s no way that’s not true,” Tanjirou insists; you can see the dark outline of him scooting closer to the edge of the couch. “I’m sure you have an admirer—someone who knows you’re special!”
Stifling a wordless, garbled noise, you fan yourself with a hand. “No, no, no, that’s definitely more true about you, Tanjirou. You’re kind to everyone and you know how to make people smile. You have a very warm presence.” You fumble a bit in the dark, but grin when your fingers tough soft tufts of hair, ruffling it affectionately.
Calloused fingers touching yours, a warm embrace of skin against skin as Tanjirou holds your hand in one of his.
“I mean it, [First],” he says, soft and kind. “You’re special. Even if you don’t believe it, I care for you a lot.” He squeezes your palm, a gentle affirmation.
“You’re gonna make me fall for you,” you joke, heart squeezing. A spluttering noise from the floor makes you stifle another chuckle. “Thank you, Tanjirou.” You should let go of his hand, should say goodnight and let him sleep, but the weight of his hand in yours is comforting, and it could be sleep beginning to sink its fangs into your bones again, but it doesn’t feel like he’s motioning to let go.
“Are you sleepy?” he asks, low and quiet.
You make a little noise of denial, but can hear Tanjirou’s smile all the same, that gentle squeezing of your hand, the warmth that comes with it.
You must have fallen asleep first, because you can’t remember even letting go of Tanjirou’s hand, drawn into a quiet slumber.
once upon a time
summary: four years have gone by in a flash; shinichiro remains the same type of person he's always while you continue to strive for more with your never-ending ambition — your paths cross too much for people who believe they are not meant for one another.
word count: 2,840™
notes: this chapter is a bit of a filler, i haven't written in so long that it'll take me a bit to settle back into making it interesting :)
it's the only word you can think of after being gone from your home country for so long, or honestly, the only one you can remember that's accurate enough to resemble what you feel.
you've already bumped into two people, the first of which you stuttered during an attempt to converse with. you're sure that they thought you to be a foreigner.
that's the word you're trying to remember.
japan feels so foreign.
it makes sense to feel so out of place in the place you grew up after being abroad for four years, but you find yourself questioning what it'll be like if you were still back in america.
you're in a sea of people, ones who speak your native tongue too quickly for you to understand and look at you like a tourist; it's almost like you were still in the west.
the first person you think of calling is your mother, to tell her that you've landed in the airport and can't be any more excited to go home — which is where your problem lies...
you haven't spoken to any of your friends since you'd left the country. sure, you've tried to keep contact between them when you first moved, but with the workload and you adjusting to life in another continent, you found yourself lagging in your responses, and the distance between you and your friends growing larger.
you've made new friends, harboured new connections and founded new interests; but none of it compared to japan. so, even though your life here is undecided, you'd pick it over america time and time again — not to say that life abroad wasn't memorable, as you'd made friends and experiences to last you a lifetime.
your mother is one step ahead of you, calling you, no doubt, to tell you that she's already outside of your terminal. you pick up eagerly, greeting her with an excitable, "hello!"
"hey, baby, you landed yet?"
"yeah, i've been here for a bit and i've just gotten my luggage. i've already gotten something to eat, so don't worry about me."
"oh, i'm not worried. also, i've arranged for someone else to pick you up."
"wait, wait, wait, wait, what?" you move the phone away from your ear, to face your eyes in disbelief, then to your ear once more. "we've been talking about this for years! you said you'd always pick me up, and even before i'd moved, i'm sure there was an unspoken agreement between us both that you'd always-"
"i'm sure that you'll like the ride i arranged for you far more than just going with your plain old mother." you can practically hear her smirk. "should be there soon."
and before you can retaliate, your mother hangs up. you wonder if she feels guilty, but on second thought, you're sure it makes much more sense in her playful head. after all, she's never in the wrong (in her mind, at least).
you have no idea who she has planned to pick you up, so you decide to settle down and get comfortable while you wait, picking up a book to read. will the person picking you up even know where to go? what time will they show up? do they know what you look like?
you grow irritated with your mother, finding yourself taking out your frustrations on the spine of your book. you sigh. there's no point in getting agitated about such a round-about and last minute plan as long as you get home.
you shift a little in your seat and readjust your grip on your book, taking in a soft breath and letting it out as a deep one.
you're in for a long day.
shinichiro sano has never been any more nervous.
at least, that’s what manjiro tells him. but what does he know? to his big brother, he’ll always be the same pestering 8-year-old he was when you left for america, and unknowingly took some part of him with you.
shinichiro thinks his chipped fingernails, clattering teeth, shivering body, and pacing steps are normal.
emma passes by manjiro’s room — which for some reason all of the sanos find themselves to be in — and enters, “mikey, i think i spot a grey hair.”
“huh? where? tell me right now, or better yet, pluck it out for me!” shinichiro mumbles quickly, bending down in front of his sister and angling his scalp towards her.
he’s completely oblivious to her joke, but mikey isn’t. “he’s been like this since this morning, when miss (M/N) called him.”
“i guess that explains his un-ironed shirt and miss-matching socks.” emma shrugs as she goes to sit next to the younger of her brothers. shinichiro frets over his appearance even more in the mirror.
"i'm going to be late!" he exclaims to no one in particular, and does nothing to retaliate against the words that left his mouth.
"emma, go call miss (M/N) and tell her shinichiro can't make it. i'm afraid if he sets foot within a metre of a moving vehicle, something bad will happen." manjiro says in all seriousness, adjusting his position on his brothers bed to a more comfortable one. he assumes that he's going to be there for what seemed a long time.
"no, emma, don't listen to him! i'm going right now!" shinichiro turns around to face his siblings, taking in a deep breath and seemingly exhaling all of his worries. "it's rude to keep a lady waiting, manjiro."
"isn't chivalry dead?" the bored thirteen-year-old inquires.
"not for shinichiro, it isn't." emma answers him, getting up to usher the oldest of her brothers out of his room to make sure he keeps his word about getting there in time. "you better not stall, shinichiro, we all want to see (Y/N)."
"yeah, yeah." he grumbles, slipping in one sock at a time before leaving his room to put on his shoes at the entrance.
"bye, shinichiro." mikey says.
"bye!" emma beams, following him to lock the door after him upon his exit.
the next few moments for shinichiro are a daze; all he knows is that emma locks the door after him and that he is now in his car. he can't remember when he inputs your location in his gps or when he starts driving.
at the next traffic light, he pulls out his flip phone to check the date; february 23rd, 2002. the last he'd seen of you was in the summer of 1998, on his birthday to be exact. he kept limited contact with you, never wanting to cease it completely, but also not too much so that he oversteps your limits (that's what he told himself, at least, that you were too busy with your current lifestyle and that he could never understand).
it was in your last two years of university that you'd stopped speaking with him completely. although shinichiro had never gotten over it completely, he found other ways to compensate for your lack of presence in his life. the increase in cigarettes. the long night rides on his CB250T which remained untouched for the better part of the last four years. throwing himself into his job, even working overtime.
he's unsure of how he's able to drive while unfocused like this. all the thoughts he pushed away of you ever since that night, the last time he'd seen you, were all hitting him at once.
how the hell is he supposed to greet you like this?
maybe it was a bad idea to accept your mother's offer, although it is a bit too late to back out. maybe she'll understand?
shinichiro's already at the airport -- there's no point in leaving now, he tells himself.
he thinks about why he accepted her offer in the first place. who knows if you even consider him a friend of yours?
deep down, even if shinichiro's been denying it for the last four years, he still feels that there is a chance for him to be with you.
it's another one of his qualities that he still possesses from his time as the black dragons leader; shinichiro is incredibly optimistic and determined. to be honest, shinichiro has always been the same type of person, and despite the chaos he brought on in his teenage years, he is always the most stable part of your life.
perhaps that's why you're so drawn to him, but it's probably too late now.
someone like shinichiro ought to be dating someone by now, considering the kind of man he grew up to be. you always knew he was attractive, all he needed was some time to hone himself to his best potential.
although, you can't spare yourself the time to be distracted by thoughts like this. you're both adults, and you came back to japan for work, not to be distracted by things as trivial as love (or at least, that's what you keep repeating to yourself -- but deep down, you know the only thing worth enduring such a drastic change in life for is shinichiro).
shinichiro and takeomi. takeomi and shinichiro. the two had known each other for so long, that it was almost unusual to see one without the other. wherever shinichiro led, takeomi was not far behind, and wherever takeomi went, shinichiro followed. this had been their routine during their last two years of friendship, each boy befriending the other on his first day of kindergarten.
like every other weekend, takeomi came knocking on shinichiro's door -- just a few doors down -- and shinichiro opened the door instantly, having been waiting for his friend's knock. the two sprinted to the playground nearby their apartment complex, making a competition out of who arrived first. the last one to arrive at the playground had to push the winner on the swing.
one particular day, when takeomi had run off to look at bugs with another kid, leaving shinichiro to sulk in the sand-pit, an unfamiliar face approached the sano.
thinking the larger boy wanted to play, shinichiro invited him to join him, but the former had no interest -- he was more invested in what shinichiro was playing with, and demanded he hand his toy over.
shinichiro, of course, wouldn't give up without a fight, even if he knew there was no chance of winning. what a good time for takeomi to run off.
just as the kid was about to get his hands on shinichiro, something hit his side and almost knocked him down. the kid, being much larger than whatever -- apparently, whoever -- had just hit him, only stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance.
after noticing that your attempt at tackling a kid that had a good few inches of height on you had failed, you did the next best thing; land a good punch in the stomach.
the kid instantly toppled over, crying for his mother, but you didn't seem to care as you turned to shinichiro, grabbing his arm as you screamed, "run!"
you obviously didn't give him a choice, pulling him and sprinting as fast and far away as possible. he tried to resist against you, but apparently, you were much stronger than he is. when you felt that you were far enough, hidden behind a set of bushes in an unfamiliar neighbourhood, you finally stopped sprinting.
you were both panting, trying to catch your breaths as you bent over your knees, but shinichiro was way more breathless than you were. "what are you doing here all by yourself?"
"i'm not by myself." shinichiro scraped at his chin with the back of his hand, trying to make himself look a bit more tough, despite the good couple of inches you were taller than him by. "i came with my friend."
"where did he go?"
shinichiro didn't answer, reminded by the fact that takeomi had ditched him.
at the lack of response, you spoke up again. "i don't think he knows where we are or cares enough to follow us. i'll walk you home."
"i'm fine." he protested.
"what if he goes after you again?"
"you just said-"
"let me walk you home."
shinichiro realized that the only way he was going to get his answer was if he heeded your request (really, a demand) and led the way.
"you know, that was really harsh of you." he said.
"hm?" you replied quickly, afraid you'd offended your maybe-friend. "how?"
"i mean, the way you charged in there and everything, hitting him in the stomach. that was kind of dirty."
"really?" you raised an eyebrow. "i mean, i helped you, so..."
shinichiro didn't say anything, instead reflecting on your words.
"i mean, if i hadn't done that, who knows what you'd look like right now."
shinichiro gulped, realizing that you had a point. "still... you should've at least given him a chance."
"are you telling me to fight fairly?"
"there is nothing fair about life." your voice changeg, almost as if it wasn't you who was speaking. "it's a fight, after all, the only goal is winning, right?"
shinichiro wanted to disagree, but decided to keep quiet. the difference between the two of you had always been that shinichiro remained the same, while you were always learning and changing.
he didn't know you very well, or at all, honestly, but he found it difficult to take you seriously when your adult-teeth were coming out in different directions and your bangs were sticking out away from your forehead (he wondered why your baby teeth fell out so early, but he would get his questions answered soon enough).
for some reason, on that day, for the first ever time willingly, shinichiro took the long route home. despite the silence between you two, he felt that there was something he needed to say. he was bursting trying to hold in the beginnings of a conversation, but he didn't even know what he wanted to say.
when he could no longer delay the route to his home, he told you to follow him to his door, and when you couldn't step in, he asked you for your name.
"give me yours first." you replied.
"huh?! why's that?!"
"i saved you, you owe me!"
"you talked to me first!"
"what does that have to do with anything?"
shinichiro admitted that you were right, and that you were really good at arguing.
"and this is your home?"
"and you're here a lot? do you answer this doorbell?"
"why do you keep asking so many questions?"
"just incase you wanna go to the park again. you don't wanna get beat up, right?"
"yeah, but i usually go with my friend."
you didn't sound as fiery as you first had when you'd spoken to him, but he was far too dense to understand why.
the next time you would see shinichiro would be on the first day of school, where he found you talking to his bully. it seemed that you were lecturing him for sitting in your desk, or more like, scaring him off — you had a way of getting what you wanted, apparently.
he was surprised that someone like him could be scared of someone smaller than him -- you must be really scary, scarier than he'd initially thought.
he later learned that your name was (Y/N). and that you were dejected after he declined your offer to walk him home and to the park because you had never had any luck with friends, always scaring them off with your honest-straightforwardness and agressive-bluntness before you could really show them who you were.
he also learned that past your brash actions and indifferent language, you really were a caring person. no matter how many times you said you'd done things for your own personal gain, shinichiro knew better than to believe it (your love language was acts of service, and it seemed that you had yet to figure it out, so shinichiro kept it as his little secret).
the first thing shinichiro notices when he sees you is that your hair has grown. it's definetley grown, compared to the length it was before. you'd always been opposed to letting it grow past your shoulders -- he remembers that the perfect length for you was an inch or two down your shoulders, just enough to brush past them but not enough to stay in one place.
your style of clothes is almost the same, but much more business-like and mature. you're reading a book, he can only assume, as he stares at your back. he hasn't even seen your face yet, and somehow he knows exactly who you are among this crowd containing thousands of others.
it'd been four years, and he could still discern you from a large crowd. he lets out a sigh, straightening the collar of his jean jacket and shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants.
shinichiro sano was going to talk to you.
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Can you do Ushijima and Iwazumi comforting you during a thunderstorm because you’re astraphobic? Like maybe you text them to come over and they find you in a closet or under your bed hiding and shaking?
A/N: hey hey!! this took me awhile bc iwaizumis was a pain to write but then i had today off of college bc of a storm and it inspired me LMAO so here is this request like 2 months after i had finished writing ushijimas part, enjoy <3 also are we still rocking with the new character banners?? I’m undecided
Genre/warnings: comfort fluff!! reader has fear of thunder/loud natural noises, only ushijima a was proof read lmao
Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi, Iwaizumi Hajime x gn!reader (separate)
Format: drabbles (wc: approx. 400 words each)
Upon receiving a text from you late into the night he knew it was of the utmost importance, you - just as well as anyone - knew that he was usually in bed fairly early for practice the next day. The text was a simple ‘can you come over?’ and it wasn’t until a clap of thunder rang out in the darkening sky that he realised why you had wanted him.
He made it down his apartment building with some haste, not enough for anyone to notice though, he had a high enough stamina for a sprint down the stairs to not be too hard on him. He arrived at his car and noticed the rain beginning to spot, the storm was only just beginning by the looks of it.
He wasn’t a man who was very outwardly affectionate, he didn’t pick up on certain cues that you gave him early on in the relationship, but he grew to know you better than he knew himself some days. Your fear of storms and the loud noises that came with them was a new experience to him, who had once seen it only as a background noise to fall asleep to. Now it brought him slight discomfort knowing that if the thunder was here, you were scared. This feeling of discomfort, that his friends had explained only appeared because he cared for you, was lurking in his mind as he opened the door to your apartment with his spare key.
As he entered your bedroom his eyes searched for you, there was no person-shaped figure on the bed, no lights on in any other rooms of the apartment and by the looks of it, you also weren’t hiding in your closet. It wasn’t until a slight snivelling noise cast his gaze down towards the space under your bed.
His tall stature crouching down to locate you under your bed would probably be quite amusing to watch had you not been the person under there. He shuffled his body and reached one of his hands out to lightly brush away a few stray tears he could see with the little light in the room. His hand then moved down to grasp yours which was closest to him. He wanted you to feel comfortable to come out in your own time, and he would lie on your bedroom floor holding you, and rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, until the storm eased if he had to.
Whilst leaving the gym after a day of training with the boisterous volleyball team, his eyes were glued to one little notification on his phone. An amber weather warning. A storm was set to hit by the time he would arrive home and he could already hear the beginnings of the sky’s rumbles and see the grey that cloaked the city. As long as he left now he should be able to make it back to you before any major winds and thunder took to the skies.
Luck wasn’t always on Iwaizumi’s side though, there had been traffic caused by the storm and his longing to be home with you only grew. Once he had made it to the shared abode, he kicked off his now damp shoes - promising to himself that he would move them out of the door way later - and entered the bedroom with some haste in order to find you. The storm was picking up and he knew it would only get worse until it began to pass the city very late into the night. What gave away your location to him was the quick breaths he could hear from the large closet in the corner of the shared room. He took soft steps over to the door and quietly knocked, when he gained no such response from you, he cracked the door open. Once he could see your face he noticed the panicked expression you held and the way you clutched a hoodie of his to ground yourself without his presence.
Making eye contact with you, he searched your eyes for a response as he questioned if he could touch you and once he received a small nod he kneeled down and reached out to hold your hands, gently rubbing over your knuckles in a repetitive motion. As a few moments passed, he began taking more calculated breaths, quietly whispering a countdown for you to be able to slow down your breathing and match his. Soft words escaped his mouth between counts of ten and he gently coaxed you out of the wardrobe and into his lap as he sat back, shuffling backwards a little more to lean his back against the bed.
He could hear your breathing become less erratic and your own arms tightened around his body, grasping for the warmth and steadiness that he provided to you. He was a grounding force, there to comfort you through anything, and he would continue to be that for as long as you needed.
tags: @justamultifandomfan16 @mushr00m00 @mystic-helena @spookykiri @silkylious @therealcozyy @katsulovee @hannahalanib1 @derpeedoo @estridries (send ask to be added)