#or from people older than him. and his emotional needs were just not being met in the league.
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Chapter 14: Into the lion's den /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: Y/N enters Koschei's lair and finally confirms some suspicions
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Again mentions of trauma and grief.
Notes: I'm so glad that I have almost all the chapters written cuz my fingers are fucking useless now and I can't write 🙄
Main Masterlist
Worlds Apart Masterlist
The dark living room was immediately illuminated by faelights, papers scattered around the table, potions and a liquid simmering in a cauldron near the fire. She scrunched her nose at the rotten smell. A screeching, like a trapped creature sounded somewhere behind the closed doors that led to the basement, she shivered thinking what could be suffering in his hands.
Drawings adorned the walls, receipts and terrifying creatures. Her breath hitched as she recognized the circle with wyrd marks used to summon the ridderak. This was even more scary than Baba Yellowleg’s tent, the Matron would send her there regularly to check on the older witch and her home always made her bones cold.
“So..” He cleared his throat, those golden eyes turned to her direction, pinning her in place. “Tell me what. What troubles your heart?” He once again extended his hand and she quietly placed it onto his.
Mantyx almost gasped with the swirling of emotions that hit him when he touched her skin. Anger, hatred, pain, grief, pain was what burned brighter in that array of feelings that clouded her mind. He tried to take a look but he was met with a wall made of pure steel, unbreakable, unbendable and impenetrable.
But another thing caught his attention, singing beautifully to no one hear, a mating bond stood, he had learned everything about it in the years he was trapped there. A bond shared by two people that was stronger than everything, once the bond was accepted nothing could break it. He tugged at the string lightly, watching closely as she startled, her free hand flying to her heart. She didn’t understand what this was.
Near that cabin, a worried shadowsinger yelped in surprise as he felt a tug in his chest, like someone was pulling a string tied to his soul. Lucien looked at him with a raised eyebrow, asking him if he was alright. Azriel just shook his head, hand rubbing circles in his chest, in a soothing manner. His eyes focused back on the cabin door, he wanted to go there and kick it down, rescuing her but he knew he couldn’t.
“I see that you lost someone very important to you.” He pointed it out, going for the easiest approach, usually wasn’t hard to know what troubled people, they were too simple to read, always thinking they were good at hiding their emotions and thinking of him as a god for being able to read them like a cooking book.
“I lost everything.” She quietly replied, Y/N never really opened up to anyone after the war, just brushing their concerns off and focusing on her work to suffocate those drowning feelings. “I lost my sister, the only person that truly loved me, I couldn't even say goodbye. I lost my way, I lost myself after she was gone, and I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to what I was.”
Mantyx looked at her, the despair pungent on the tip of his tongue. The shadows in her eyes darkened as she frowned, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. He took a deep breath, feeling all of her negative emotions fill the void in his chest, he had to suppress a smirk at it, he fed from negative emotions, draining them and leaving the person numb.
“You can’t ever go back, all you can do is keep going and adapt to the change.” He offered and she scoffed.
“I would give anything, do anything to get her back.” Mantyx approached her. It was like the light couldn’t reach it, being sucked into a black hole, not reflecting. If it wasn’t for his proximity she wouldn't even have noticed.
But there it was, resting with an unsettling melody, the wyrd key that opened the gate atop Ramiel, what she needed to get home. She couldn't risk getting it just now, or else he would kill her and all of their efforts would be useless.
“What if I told you that I can bring her back?” He offered and her eyes lifted from the key to his gold orbs. She never knew about the extent of the other Kings powers, if Erawan was that powerful she imagined how powerful Mantyx and Orcus would be.
“You can do it?” She inquired, doubt started to coat her thoughts, she missed Asterin, what if she could see her one last time, or even better, get her back fully?
“You just need to do me a simple favor in return.” She closed her eyes, that was the only way. She shook her head in agreement.
“What do you need?” She opened her eyes, determination burning in that gaze. “I’ll do anything.”
“Bring me Nesta Archeron.” He said and she nodded, Mantyx smiled. His hand extended towards the door that slowly opened to reveal the green island he lived in. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”
Y/N bowed to him, her eyes tracing the key that moved up and down with each breath he gave. She turned around, slowly walking outside, she could still feel his eyes on her when she crossed the bridge, so she didn’t dare to look to where she knew they would be, she kept walking forward until her frame disappeared from his line of sight. Just then she let out the breath she was holding.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Azriel and the others reached her halfway back to the Manor, she hadn't even noticed she had walked so much, her tensed muscles and shivering body were the only indications of the fear she had felt alone in that cabin. Azriel touched her arm, making her spin in her heels, collapsing against his chest. Shuddering breaths left her lips as she tried to calm herself.
“Did he hurt you?” She shook her head and Azriel breathed with relief, his shadows moved around her in a protecting way, ready to strike at anyone who dared get too close to her.
“We should go back, we don’t know what is lurking around in those woods.” Lucien advised, also worried about the fragile form that clung to Azriel for dear life.
They all started to head back, being surprised by the giant wyvern baring his teeth at them, poison dripping from his fangs, he looked anxious, like he felt all of her distress through the connection he shared with his rider, and by the way she pushed Azriel out of the way, stumbling until her chest and forehead were pressed against his nose, he probably felt.
Meraxes instantly relaxed with her touch, sniffing her scent and declaring she was alright. Y/N sobbed against him, her hands rubbing his leathery skin up and down, until she calmed herself down.
“I’m okay, I promise.” She breathed and the wyvern nodded, giving one last look to the males before stepping aside and allowing their access to the house. She let go of him, following the rest of them inside, plopping herself on the couch.
“Why did you go inside? You could be dead now.” Lucien slowly started, worry filled his voice, Y/N had become someone important to him and he couldn’t fathom the idea of her being killed by that damned monster.
“We needed answers.” She simply replied, shrugging.
“And did you get them?” Jurian asked, leaning against the wall that led to the kitchen.
“His name is Mantyx, the middle brother of Erawan and Orcus, a Valg King.” She started, all of the males looked at her. “He was the one who summoned the ridderak that attacked me, he was after Nesta and her powers.”
“Does he have a key?” Azriel asked, his eyebrows furrowed as the engines in his brain worked.
“He carries it around his neck.” Lucien cursed loudly, how would they get it?
“How did you get out?” Jurian once again asked all the right questions.
“I promised him that I would get Nesta.” Azriel's eyes widened. “I just needed to get out to tell you all this, chill.” She said to him, her blue eyes piercing him back in place and he didn’t dare to argue.
“What do we do now?” Lucien inquired, rubbing his temples.
“I don’t know about you, but i’ll have a bath, i’m feeling disgusting.” She said getting up, leaving the males behind her.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Her chest ached as she sat in the scalding water, trying to rub all those feelings away from her, but it was useless. She then reached for the book Morrigan had found in the Hewn City, not having time to read it in the trip until now. She opened the book and focused on the fancy handwriting, allowing her brain to shut down from the real world and just pay attention to the words in those pages.
“It was during the night that he came, talking with a sweet voice, promises of a better world and absolution to those who bowed to him and allowed his angels a home. The god of conquest was how they called him.
He brought her, with dark hair and dark eyes, she feeded from life and used the remains to build weapons made of human bones. They called her The Weaver, and her twin, The Bone Carver, one more terrifying than the other. They weren’t angels, they were the gods of death, draining life from the earth and eating our souls.
They talked about how lucky we were, claiming to be princes and princesses from their homeworld. No one knew how they came or where they came from, but all we knew was that it was all related to that necklace, made of a dark stone and with an unknown shape. They had come from the north, many guessed they were a plague sent by the Night Court to terrorise us, but even the High Lord feared them, he couldn't control them, no one could, so they took what they pleased.
It was Celeste Vanserra, the Fireborn that brought us hope, the most powerful fire carrier the world has ever seen. She locked The Bone Carver with the help of the cauldron in the prison first. This made the fae wars easier, but their army was too big to be brought down, so they had to change their strategy.
Divide and conquest is what they called it. They managed to separate The Weaver, and once again, with the help of the cauldron, Celeste and her fire locked Stryga in the woods, in a cabin no one dared to get close to. Whenever a general fell, their army fell with them.
The High Lords followed Celeste to the battlefield, following her command and doing what she said. The final battle was in the lake, where Celeste used her powers to create a fire circle around Koschei and his monsters, trapping him inside, not knowing this was his biggest weakness, her fire was the only thing that could kill him. But before Celeste could, he killed her, piercing her heart with a sword.
The High Lords seeing their strongest fall, decided that they weren’t enough to kill Koschei, so they used the cauldron imbued by their powers to trap his soul to the island. As long as this world still exists, Koschei cannot be killed, his soul is bound to the Earth itself. Only the power of the cauldron or the fire of Celeste can free him from his prison and finally kill him.
With their failure to end the biggest threat our world has ever seen, they erased Celeste’s name from history. If no one remembered her, no one would remember how weak they were compared to Koschei. But her fire was still alive in the blood of her offspring, and the family Vanserra is the closest we have to a chance of killing him, unfortunately those who don’t learn their history tend to repeat it.”
Y/N gasped, the water already cold as she discarded the book and jumped out of the tub, opening the door to her and Azriel’s room. He sat on the bed, eyeing her up and down, following the droplets of water that ran down her curves, but her sombre expression brought his eyes back to her face, ignoring the temptation of looking down.
“What happened?” He asked and she took a deep breath.
“I know how to kill him.”
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
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#azriel#shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#moonlightazriel#night court#velaris#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#sarahjmaas#azriel acotar#azriel x oc#worlds apart fic
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Clone^2 Damian
If you really think about, Damian's situation in the clone^2 au is... kinda tragic? Especially in the early months of his arrival. Like,,, think about it. Damian has always known he was a clone of Damian Wayne, that he was a copy of the blood son. There was nothing 'original' about him, not even his name (of which at least Danny has that). He was just... a replacement. A disposable one, to boot.
And he knew that, to an extent, by the time he was six years old. he might not have been actively acknowledging it -- he's six years old -- but deep down he knew. And like, he's six years old. Every small child craves the love and affection of an adult, especially their parents, and even though he knew he was clone, I imagine he still considered - and still does consider, somewhat - Talia and Bruce as his mother and father. And I really doubt he was... getting it?
Now, I know Talia loves Damian, her son. At least in some interpretations she does, and in this au she does. But... a clone of her son? I'm not so certain if she would have the same affection for baby Dames as she would for Damian. I don't think she would treat him badly, but I don't think Talia would treat him warmly either. Kinda just, distant. Colder than she would have been with OG Damian.
And, I know I've mentioned Damian's arrival from Danny's point of view, and its kind of comical kind of insane from his perspective -- a little boy clone of Damian Wayne falls through a portal and immediately attacks him. That sounds like a bad joke.
But, if you think of this from Damian's point of view? It's like he just got dropped into a scary movie. Like, think about it. You're six years old, and suddenly a portal, as green and as swirling as your grandfather's pools, opens up beneath your feet and sucks you through.
After an intense bout of vertigo, you end up in a massive, urban city -- completely different from the rural mountain palace that you lived in for the last six years of your life, and in this city, you don't know any of the language. You don't know what anyone is saying, you can't read any of the signs - you are completely stranded, away from home.
And then, to make things worse, you're facing a figure with a terrifying mask and eyes as burning green as the portal you fell through. Of course Damian's first instinct, six years old, is to attack. He's terrified.
And this figure, he's not a good fighter, but he's fast, and he dodges you quickly. He grabs your sword with his hands, and tries to restrain you, saying something in a language you don't know. Naturally, Damian is just scared. He's six! He'd just be learning how to read if he was normal child going to school.
This figure halfway through the fight yanks off his mask -- he realizes you're scared -- and looking at you now, is a youthful version of your father. This is a clone of your dad, someone you have never met but, six years old, still wants to. Damian gets defensive. This is an imposter.
But this imposter eventually gets you home with him - and he's using his little box, his phone, to communicate with you through a mechanical voice speaking in arabic. and it's frustrating. The boy, the imposter, can say whatever to you just fine, but trying to talk back is a hassle and a half. He's six, he doesn't have that much patience.
He wants to go home.
And so he keeps trying to run away. He keeps trying to find out of this hellish concrete jungle, and he keeps getting lost. It's loud, and busy, and there are people talking to you and you don't understand them, and there are rules and signs you don't understand - Damian tries to cross the street and nearly gets hit by a car. He doesn't know how the road signs work, he was never taught. They didn't get to that.
And he gets lost. And it gets dark, and Damian is brave, but he is six, and this is the worst stress he's been under in all his six years of life. He wants, desperately more than anything, to go home. Why wouldn't he? The only stable... semi-stable environment he was in just got ripped out from under his feet, literally! He wants his mother.
And it's not happening.
But there's something good to be said, at least. The imposter that looks like his father always comes and finds him, no matter what. He could have left that morning, and he will find Damian at midnight, frazzled and worried, and carrying an extra jacket with him because it is cold in Amity Park and Damian is six years old.
And sometimes Damian attacks him - he's scared and stressed and he doesn't want to be here. And every time he catches the sword. Even though Damian can see it cut into his hand and pearls of blood well up and stains his fingers. Even though Damian can see him wince in pain and bite his lip, he still catches it.
But with that little box, he coaxes Damian to come back with him. It's cold, it's dark, Amity Park is unsafe at night. They can figure something out tomorrow, please. And every time, he agrees, reluctantly. And the imposter takes the extra jacket he brought with -- a flannel, a hoodie, a jacket -- and he wraps it around him. It's warm, Damian's clothes are not that thick, and even though he thinks he might hate this imposter, he still sticks close to his legs as he leads him down the street.
And sometimes the imposter carries him, because Damian's shoes are not that thick, and he cuts his foot on broken glass while they're walking home. The imposter sits in the bathroom with him and carefully cleans the cut out, and makes sure it doesn't get infected.
There's hope you know, he still has it. His mother will be looking for him. She'll be worried. He's important to them. Damian may not be the original, but he is still a blood son. He is still her son. She will come find him. This nightmare will end soon. He can go home.
And then weeks pass, and nothing. Then months, and nothing. His family is not coming for him, and it hurts. Hurts more than anything. And yet while that happens, the boy he's attacked, and hurt, teaches himself arabic in order to speak to him. He takes Damian out of the house one afternoon and buys him new clothes, or tries to. And then he keeps buying him new clothes. He gives him blankets and gives up his bed to him until they can get him one himself, and steadily he teaches Damian english.
This boy is kind. Kinder than Damian's ever experienced, and he doesn't know what to do with it. He's devastated by the fact that he is not as important to his family as his family is to him. What do you do when you're six years old and you learn something like that? When a random stranger who looks like your father is kinder to you, and cares more about you than your family did?
And then Damian tells him he's a clone. He's Damian Wayne's clone, and he tells him his purpose - that their grandfather made him to kill him. And the boy, the imposter, Damian thinks he probably already knows that he's a clone. But he doesn't say that. He just nods, and asks him if he wants to tell his original about him.
Damian says no. He doesn't want to. He's tired of living in the shadow of his original. He wants to keep this to himself. This is his. For once, all of this is his.
And to his surprise, the imposter doesn't try and convince him otherwise. He just nods, and says okay. And when Damian asks why, the imposter - his brother - looks at him and says.
"I don't care about Damian Wayne. I care about you." And in Damian's gobsmacked silence, his brother continues. He tells him that if Damian doesn't want to tell his original that he exists, then they don't need to. They don't need to worry about the LoA going after him, because clearly if his 'grandfather' needs to make a clone of Damian in order to take him out, then whatever it was that Damian Wayne was doing to keep himself safe, was working.
"Wayne already has people in his corner, he's got Gotham's army of vigilantes to keep himself safe." his brother says with his eyes as blue as moonlight. "You, however. Do not." And he continues, and says that if Damian Wayne has the same training as Damian does, then he will be fine. He doesn't need to be aware of his clone. Because if DW doesn't know about Damian, then the LoA doesn't either.
And here's the thing. Damian would not have survived in the LoA for long. Not as a clone. No matter what, he was going to die no matter what he did, and sooner rather than later. The sword of Damocles was always hanging above his head in the League of Assassins.
That portal, and meeting Danny, saved his life. There's no way around it. And to an extent Damian knows this even at six years old. He may not be aware that he would've died, but he knows that meeting Danny was the best thing to happen to him.
It's no wonder after that, that Damian is as clingy to Danny as he is. Danny is the first person he's met to offer him unconditional love, with no strings attached, only pure affection.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#clone^2#like god can you imagine how scared he must've been? how afraid? he just wants his mom - only to realize he doesnt even matter to her#dpxdc au#danny fenton is not the ghost king#this poor kid man. no wonder he latched onto danny the moment he gave up on the league like a leech. he's a six year old kid man and#it doesnt matter how smart he is or how mature he acts. he still is six years old. he still needs that validation and affection from adults#or from people older than him. and his emotional needs were just not being met in the league.#cue the song “two” from sleeping at last - some of their songs are very clone^2 honestly.#'sweetheart you look a little tired. when did you last eat? come in and make yourself right at home. stay as long as you need.'#'tell me is something wrong? if something's wrong you can count on me'#'its okay if you can't find the words. let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders'#'like a force to be reckoned with. am i the ocean or a gentle kiss. i will love you with every single thing i have'#'like a tidal wave i'll make a mess. or calm waters if that serves you best'#'i will love you without any strings attached'#like just. just *imagine* being in damian's shoes during all of this. he's *six* you guys. i've worked with six year olds and they're#pretty independent but they're still six. they get excited when they see their parents and they get upset when an adult is angry with them.#they're still developing their motor skills. they're still developing everything else!
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Cheese Danishes ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner
♡ SUMMARY: aaron is struggling to navigate his feelings, and his fears, as his relationship with his younger graduate student neighbor progress
♡ WARNINGS: smut (piv) mdni, oral (fem recieving), fingering, fluff, angst mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, mentions of haley and george foyet, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)
♡ NOTE: the timeline on this is wonky when compared to the show. in my head, aaron and jack did go into witness protection and left for a while, but once foyet was caught aaron returned as unit chief to the BAU. so the team is made up of the people in the later seasons, including prentiss, but aaron is still in charge.
Part one
—♡
Aaron pulled your body tighter against him amidst the start of the season’s first snowfall. “Thank you,” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline. It wasn’t very often he allowed himself to stay after you two had been intimate, only after he had been away for a rough case. You basked in the attention every time.
As much as you wanted more, your relationship with Aaron has been primarily physical. You could count on one hand the amount of times you two had a connection outside of sex. It wasn’t necessarily his ideal either, but life gets in the way when you’re pulled away to attend to serial killers every week, in between spending time with your son.
You two lay together for a while, not saying anything. This was the time you used to pretend things had turned out the way you wanted them to. Of course, you lusted over him when you first met. Something about having a sexy, older neighbor fulfilled a fantasy you didn’t know you had. But, over the months you got to spend with him, both before and after your drunken declaration of interest, your feelings for him had evolved.
You’d learned how much more he was than his stoic exterior. He was gentle, like the way his calloused hands caressed your hips as he pulled you into his lap while you made out. He was funny, constantly teasing you for your abnormal habits. He was kind, making sure you were safe and sound before he retreated to his home.
But, most of all, he was distant. Physically distant a good portion of the time, being needed in different parts of the country at any given time. Mostly, he was emotionally distant. It was as if something was tormenting him most of the time, keeping him from truly giving himself to you. Even when he was buried deep inside you, it was as if there was a gap between you, preventing any real connections.
He gave you an even tighter squeeze, warning you he would be leaving soon without using words. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your body tensed back up when he did this, knowing how empty the house would feel in just a few minutes. He let out a familiar sigh, before pressing one more kiss to your forehead. “I should probably head back,” he spoke his usual phrase into the darkness of your bedroom. You nodded against his chest before pulling yourself away from him, allowing him to get up.
He noticed the way you pulled your comforter closer, trying the replace the warmth he had been providing. Aaron’s heart broke, wanting to crawl back next to you and hold you close for the rest of the night. For the rest of his life, if he could.
But, he couldn't. He knew that. If he allowed himself to be honest with you, to tell you all the ways he has fallen for you since you showed up on his doorstep with a container of desserts, he would ruin everything you had. Whether it be from him not being able to handle his own emotions, or something as terrifying as George Foyet, something would ruin the sparse nights he got to spend with you. He came with too much baggage, too many ways you could be hurt, to allow himself to have everything he wants.
So, he slips back on his pressed slacks and buttons up his white shirt. He moves quietly, trying to convince himself you are falling asleep, not worrying about what he is doing. Your soft voice ruins this, “Let me know when you get home,” you say, as you do every night he’s here. He lets out a sound of agreement, even though he knows he won’t do it.
The room falls quiet again as Aaron tries to find his suit jacket. He uses his phone flashlight and sees the arm sticking out from beneath your bed. He quickly bends over to grab it, hoping you don’t hear the way his hips creak as he lowers himself. Throwing his jacket over his arm, he finally makes his way to the door. He’s one step through it when you speak again, “Aaron?”
“Yes?” he replies quietly, ignoring how timid your voice sounds. “Maybe we could get lunch or something soon?” Your heart beats against your chest, reverberating in your temples as you ask. It doesn’t make sense. You have no problem letting him know when you’re soaking through your panties because of the lewd photo he sent you, but you’re on the verge of a panic attack as you ask if he’d like to have a meal with you.
“Yeah,” he nods, actually meaning it. He would love to have lunch or something with you. Of course, no one knows if it will ever actually happen. “Cool,” you let out a sigh of relief, “I’ll text you.”
“Yeah,” is all he says as he closes your bedroom door, making his way back to his house. Your body shivers with both chill and loneliness when you hear your front door close.
Aaron’s shoulders were slumped as he made the trek across the street. He threw his jacket over his shoulders, but not putting his arms through the sleeves, to try and protect him from the cold. This year’s winter had come in full swing this week, with the first snowfall happening tonight. He couldn’t make out where the little hand on his watch was, but he knew it was some time after midnight.
He was carrying a lot of guilt and he had no one to share it with. He couldn’t tell you because the repercussions could result in you losing your life, the same way Haley did. He couldn’t tell the team because they didn’t know about you. And that was all of the adult people in his life, pretty much.
His key turned in the door and he let out a sigh. He’d forgotten to turn his heat on when he left for the last case, so it was freezing inside. He stopped in the hallway to change the thermostat, before making his way to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, letting it properly heat up before he began to remove his clothes.
The cold he was feeling was both literal and metaphorical. The chill air burned his skin, opposite from the way your warm touch soothed it.
Aaron felt like he was on autopilot as he cleaned himself, put on his warmest pajamas, and made his way to his bed. It felt bigger than it did before he left. He fell asleep pretty quickly, both from the strenuous case and the orgasm he had not that long ago.
The next morning, you were woken up by the sun casting through your window. You had forgotten to close the curtains last night. You reached for your phone, seeing two messages from Elise. ‘Meet us for brunch?’ and ‘Bring your old man ;)’. The “us” in question was her and her new girlfriend, Annie. They were a cute couple: they seemed like they were made for each other.
You texted back, asking about the time and place, choosing to ignore her second message. When you got up to get ready, you couldn’t help yourself from peeking to see if Aaron’s car was parked across the street. It wasn’t, so you pretended like you didn’t consider asking him to go to brunch.
“Alvez,” Aaron’s voice cut through the chatter in the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing, focusing on the glare on Aaron’s face as he continued, “Stop.” Luke had been teasing Spencer, making the entire team laugh. Luke didn’t answer, knowing it wasn’t worth messing with him anymore. The entire team had picked up on the attitude Aaron had been carrying around lately. There was no more room for teasing in the BAU, as he always seemed angry nowadays.
As the team finished debriefing their last case, Emily lingered inside the meeting room. “Hey, Hotch?” She questioned, usually being the advocate for the team. Aaron didn’t answer but shifted his attention away from the files in front of him and to her. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Just fine, Prentiss,” he lied, becoming embarrassed under her harsh stare. “Hotch,” she cut through the silence again, “we both know that’s not true.” As much as she was trying to be sympathetic, her prying was just pissing him off. “What is going on in my personal life is none of your concern.” He ended the conversation bluntly, not wanting her to pry anymore.
Like a dog who had just been scolded, Emily made her way out of the room. Hotch lingered for a little longer, hoping the team would disperse before he made his presence known again. He pulled his phone from his pocket, thinking over what Emily was saying to him. Something was wrong, but nobody could fix it. Nobody but you.
Your phone dinged from its spot beside you, and you tried to not let your professor see you reach for it. Sure, you were a grown woman who was allowed to be on your phone, but you didn’t want to seem rude by being distracted from his lesson. You set your pink pen on top of your notebook and lowered your phone into your lap. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you saw the message was from ‘Aaron <3’.
It had been about four days since he left your house and he had not texted since. You refused to text first, not wanting to appear desperate. ‘Hello, I am dropping Jack off at a friend’s at 6:30. Could I come over after? I can order us dinner.’ You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. You quickly typed out a reply, ‘My class ends at 5 and I have to stop by Elise’s to pick something up. Meet at my house at 7?’. He replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
Your leg excitedly bounced throughout the class, willing the clock to move faster. Your notes were messy due to your brain moving faster than your hand could go. When the professor finally wrapped things up and asked for any final questions, you shoved things into your bookbag, knowing you’d regret it the next time you needed something from it. You were the first one out the door.
You tried not to speed as you drove to Elise’s. You were picking up a new dog bed that Anna was getting rid of. Your dog, Jackson, would love it. You left yourself in her house, yelling out to let her know you had arrived.
You had not been completely honest with Elise. You had told her your relationship status with Aaron was complicated, which was half-true. It was very complicated, but also very non-existent. You rushed through your interaction with her and Anna, ignoring the joke she cracked about you having a hot date.
You arrived home close to 6:45 and immediately made your way to your closet to throw on something nicer than the leggings and sweatshirt you wore to class. You used the extra time to clean up around the house.
Aaron knocked on the door at 7:00 on the dot, making you giggle at his punctuality. “Hello,” you smiled at him as you opened the door. He said his greeting and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. You could feel your face warm up at his actions. When he came in, you two settled on the couch, catching up on the things you had missed in each other’s lives.
“Is that new?” Aaron asked, putting at the large dog bed Jackson was resting on. Your heart swooned at him noticing such a small detail. “Yeah! Elise’s girlfriend, Anna, was getting rid of it. She fosters dogs most of the time but she had to stop after the last one got adopted because her dad moved in with her. He’s sick, so she spends a lot of time taking care of him.” Aaron nods in understanding, “You spoil him, huh?” You giggled at his answer, knowing most of your paychecks went to funding Jackson’s expensive lifestyle.
It didn’t take long for you to wind up in his lap, his hands gripping your ass. He was holding you close, pressing his tongue into your mouth. Aaron had a lot of skills, and kissing was probably one of his best. When you pulled away to breathe, he made quick work of moving his lips to your neck, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear. You let out a gentle moan, moving your hands from around his neck to tug on his hair.
Your moment was interrupted when your stomach grumbled, surprising Aaron. He pulled away, looking up at you with wide eyes and puffy lips. You giggled out an, “I’m sorry.” Aaron soon joined you in your laughter. “You said we’d order food! I haven’t eaten since breakfast!” You smiled, enjoying this sweet moment with him.
He tapped your side, signaling you to get off of his lap. He reached for his phone, “What do you want to eat?” You two scrolled through your options, settling on a local pizza place. Your stomach grumbled again after he placed the order.
It didn’t take long for the pizza to arrive, and you two watched silly YouTube videos while you waited. The evening was filled with giggles and greasy pizza. It was everything you wanted with Aaron.
Once your bellies were both full and the paper plates had been thrown away, you two resumed your position on the couch. You were back in his lap and his lips were back on your neck. His hands were tight against your hips as you rocked against his cock, which was growing hard underneath you. The room was filled with languid sighs and deep moans as you made out.
His hands slid up your sides, moving to pull your shirt off. You separated for just a second, just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. Once it was thrown by the brand new dog bed, Aaron’s large hand was reaching up to cup your bra, quickly aggravated by the material blocking your skin. His hands moved to unclasp it, not letting his lips leave yours. The bra joined the shirt, and Aaron brought one of your nipples into his mouth.
The rough skin of his right hand felt like heaven on your right breast, eliciting moans of his name to fall from your lips. He was leaving deep, purple marks around across your tits, fueled by the sounds you were making. The light tugs of his hair had him painfully hard in his dress pants.
You pulled away to look him in the eye, “Bedroom?” Aaron shook his head no, lifting your body to lay flat on the couch. “Wanna take you right here,” he rushed through. Stoic, well-spoken Aaron Hotchner was reduced to slang like “wanna” in these moments with you.
From his spot between your legs, he kissed down between your chest, down your stomach, to the waistband of your pants. He looked up at you, asking for permission to take them off. You nodded and your pants quickly joined your ever-growing pile of clothes. “Aaron?” He let out a ‘hmm’, entranced by the wet spot in your panties. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” This broke him out of his spell and he stripped himself down to his boxers.
His hands made their way under your thighs and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your clothed sex. “Take ‘em off?” You nodded at his words, lifting your hips so he could pull them off. As soon as your panties were off, he licked a long strip up your slit.
You let out a moan as he began to bury himself into your pussy. His tongue delved into your hole and his nose nudged your clit. Your hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer. You weren’t sure if he could breathe with how he was pressed into your pussy, your juices spreading all over his chin. Once your grip on his hair relaxed a bit, he pulled his face away. As he slid two of his thick fingers into your hole, he said, “Taste so good, honey.”
As soon as he finished his sentence, he moved down to use his tongue to draw little figure eights along your clit. You let out a loud moan, “Aaron, ‘m gonna,” you cut yourself off with another moan, “gonna cum.” Your thighs held him in his spot as you reached your high. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t move from his spot as you came on his fingers.
His fingers didn’t stop as he rode you through your orgasm. Once your thighs relaxed, he brought himself up to you. You could see the way your juices glistened on his chin as moved himself to kiss you, then you could taste them on his lips.
“Taste yourself?” He asked. You felt your pussy clench at his filthy words and gave him a shy nod. He smiled, before resting his head in the crook of your neck, pressing more kisses into it. Your arms came to wrap around him, holding his bare chest against yours. You two stayed like that for a little bit, basking in each other’s aura.
“Gonna fuck you now,” He informed, lifting his body a little. He looked you in your eyes, making sure you were still okay with it. You nodded, reaching down to align his dick with your entrance. He kept his eyes on you as he pushed in, noticing the way your eyes rolled back when he bottomed out.
Aaron’s cock wasn’t too long, but the thickness of it left a satisfying burn inside you. Aaron wasn’t one for an intense sex life. He was mostly content with missionary, enjoying the closeness and eye contact that came with it. You’d begun to get him out of his shell, testing things like riding him and doggy style throughout your three months hooking up.
His thrusts were deep and slow, drawing out the delightful burn in your pussy. After your previous orgasm, the stretch of his thick cock was almost enough to send you over the edge again. Everything about him was intentional, especially the way he held your legs so he could angle himself to hit the spot inside you that made your toes curl.
“Faster,” you moaned out, needing more. “You take what I give you,” he demanded, letting his rare dominant side come out. He knew you liked that by the way you clenched around his cock, squeezing him just right. It only took a few more strokes for him to start increasing his speed, never wanting to displease you.
He was chasing his own high, bottoming out with every deep thrust. You could feel the way you were leaving a ring of your arousal at the base of his dick. “Aaron,” you sighed out, trying to let him know you were about to cum again. While you couldn’t get the words out, he could tell by the way your muscles were beginning to tense up and you were letting out higher-pitched moans.
The way you clenched his dick had his orgasm following close behind your own, allowing him to ride you through your high. He let out a deep sigh as he came down, burying himself back in the crook of your neck. He placed gentle kisses along your neck as your hand drew loving circles along his shoulder.
You willed him to keep his head buried in your neck so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes began to fill with tears. It’s not that you were sad, or even disappointed. There was a deep longing feeling in your chest. In your heart, you knew this was where you wanted to be, but, in your brain, you knew it wouldn’t last.
Aaron let himself lay there with you for a while. He didn’t move as his dick softened inside of you and as your loving caress left goosebumps in their wake. Despite the chill in the room, he was comfortable.
A few moments pass before he pushes himself off of you, making his way to the bathroom to clean up. When he reappears in the living, he asks “Do you want to take a shower?” You eagerly accept his offer, getting up to guide him to your master bathroom. He smiles behind you as you turn on the water.
You’re very surprised at his actions but scared that if you mention how different he’s acting, he’ll stop. He usually doesn’t stay to clean up with you, besides retreating to the bathroom. You both step into the shower, muscles relaxed by the hot water. Aaron flinches away from it. “Too hot?” You ask, forgetting that not everyone takes scalding hot showers.
“I’ll get used to it,” he compromises. It’s a tight fit, but you both make do. He’s the first one to reach for the wash rag. Soaping it up with your lavender-scented body wash and bringing it to your shoulders. He allows himself to enjoy washing you, taking time to massage and caress your skin. He moves gently and lovingly, as if he would break you if he pushed too hard.
Despite the amount of times you had sex, this shower was the most intimate thing you and Aaron had ever done. It would’ve been easy to convince yourself that you two were a couple, one that is deeply in love and would never hurt each other. However, you could never do that because of the gnawing knowledge of his future departure. You weren’t a couple and he would be retreating to his home any minute now.
Aaron let you stay under the warm water as he washed himself, both of you opting to not worry about washing your hair tonight. You stepped out first, grabbing a towel off of the rack attached to the shower. You wrapped it around yourself, moving to get Aaron one from your towel closet. He enjoyed the warmth of the shower while you were gone. Once you appeared in the steamy bathroom, he turned off the water and wrapped himself in the towel you handed him.
It was quiet for a moment, both of you just enjoying the presence of each other. Aaron was rubbing the towel, trying to dry his hair when he spoke up, “I don’t believe I have any clothes here. Do you have any you think could fit me?” You were gobsmacked at his words. Luckily, you weren’t facing him, so he didn’t see the way your mouth dropped in surprise. You quickly turned around to face him, “Are you staying the night?”
“Is that okay?” He sounded awkward, not really knowing what to do. Sure, he’d left every other time, but he thought it would be okay since you spend so much time together anyway. He was trying to be better than he was before, trying to overcome the fears that had been keeping him from truly being with you. “Of course it is!” Your voice was excitable again, almost as lively as it was the day he met you. “I think I have some sweatpants, I can look.”
Your heart was pounding as you left the bathroom to dig through your dresser, seeing if there was anything you wouldn’t mind Aaron keeping. He followed behind you, settling on the edge of the bed. He was distracted as you looked, admiring you in just a fluffy towel. He wished he saw this side of you more often.
Once you found an old, gray pair at the bottom of your third drawer, you tossed them at him. You got dressed and he slipped them on, choosing to forgo underwear rather than put on the precum-stained ones from earlier. “What do we do now?” You asked sweetly, not really knowing how to go about this sleepover, but excited to have it nonetheless.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” He suggested, subtly pointing at the TV hung on your wall. “Sure! What kind of movies do you like?” You asked him as you moved to sit criss-cross on your bed. He chuckled at your cute demeanor, “Me and Jack tend to watch action or comedy, but I love a good romcom now and then.” This sent you into a fit of giggles, picturing Aaron curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, and ‘When Harry Met Sally’ being the only thing illuminating his face in the dark room.
“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” He said with a fond smile on his face. He laid down, leaving space for you to curl yourself against his side, tucked right into his armpit. You felt like you belonged there. “I just didn’t realize you were such a softie,” You said with a few more giggles. He shifted his head down to look at you the best he could, “I can be.”
You two settled on ‘Do Revenge’, playing into Aaron’s apparent love of chick-flicks. You two got comfortable under the covers. About halfway through, Aaron heard your gentle snores filling the room. He reached across you to grab the remote and turn off the TV. He reached back over you to put the remote on your nightstand, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he settled himself down, falling quickly into a deep slumber.
The next morning, you woke up to an unfamiliarly cold room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, looking at the messed up bed. Your gaze followed the blanket that had been thrown around to an empty bed.
Your eyebrows crinkled in confusion, remembering that Aaron had spent the night. A part of you hoped when you got up, he’d be making breakfast for you like the husbands always did in the cheesy romcoms you two talked about last night. The other part of you knew he had left.
To confirm your suspicions, you made your way to the living room, trying to ignore the steadily increasing beat of your heart. You made your way to Jackson, who was asleep in his brand-new bed. You sat next to him, tears filling your eyes. His clothes were gone. Even the stupid sweatpants you let him borrow. Jackson snuggled closer to you, almost providing the warmth Aaron took with him when he left.
You let yourself lay there for a while, dwelling on the hurt in your heart. It wasn’t as if this was unexpected, but he could’ve had the decency to not lie to you. You explicitly asked him if he was staying the night and he said he was. How could he just leave? As if your time last night didn’t mean anything? As if any of the nights you two spent together didn’t mean anything?
You were forced to get up when you heard your phone alarm going off in your bedroom, indicating it was time for you to get ready for work. You had a busy day ahead of you that would consist of work and catching up on homework. You didn’t have time to worry about a man who wasn’t worrying about you.
You felt numb throughout your whole shift. You ignored Elise’s texts asking you to go out tomorrow, considering you hadn’t had a Friday night out in a while. You ignored pretty much everything, burying yourself in your tasks. You were on autopilot as you drove home. You quickly took care of Jackson, taking him on a brief walk and feeding him. You went out your back door and followed it until you knew you couldn’t see Aaron’s house. You didn’t want to think about him, and you definitely didn’t want him to see how sad you were.
You did homework for the rest of the night, ignoring the world around you. You didn’t turn on the TV or look at your phone once. You took another scorching shower, basking in the burn it left on your skin.
You went on like this for another day. It wasn’t until you returned home from work late on Friday night that you had to come face-to-face with your feelings.
It was actually your choice. No one forced you to slam your car door as soon as you saw Aaron get out of his in his own driveway. No one forced you to stomp your way across the street. No one forced you to yell his name.
No, you were solely guided by your own anger, your own sadness, to approach him. You didn’t know who was around, and you didn’t really care as you started yelling at him. “Fuck you,” You spit out first, “You said you were staying. I wanted you to stay. But you fucking left. I was going to make you breakfast, you know that? The best fucking baker around was going to make you breakfast. But you left. Without saying goodbye.”
You didn’t normally cuss, or yell, really. The anger you felt became too much and you were talking before you could really think about what you were saying. Your eyes started to fill with tears. “Y/N,” he interrupts. He wasn’t yelling at you, more raising his voice so you’d let him talk. “I didn’t want to leave you.” He confesses, a guilty look spread across his face.
You’re instantly quieter and the tears start falling as you speak. “You didn’t?” You quietly question. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to scream and cry and cuss at him so he could feel just a little bit of the hurt you felt when you woke up yesterday morning. But that wasn’t in your nature. You were good and kind and sweet, not mean and nasty.
“No, honey, of course not,” He speaks softly, taking a few more steps towards you. You let him rest a gentle hand on your shoulder as he continues, “I got a call from Jack’s friend’s mother. They had snuck out and gone skateboarding. Jack fell on his arm and they were on their way to the emergency room. I had to meet him there.”
Guilt started to fill your chest as you listened to his explanation. “Aaron, I’m so sorry,” You breathed out as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he spoke, “There’s no need to be. I should’ve called you but I got distracted with work.” You nodded against his chest. He held you as you calmed down, letting your tears subside. “I’ve got to run, we’re leaving for a case and I forgot my go-bag,” You nod at his words, “Be safe, please.”
“Of course,” He said as he started taking a few steps backward. He turned around and made his way to his door. His hand was reaching out for the knob when you called his name. “What are we?” You asked the dreaded question that had been weighing on your chest. It seemed childish, but there was no other way to phrase it. You hoped he wanted to be in a relationship. You hoped he wanted you the same way you wanted him.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” He said as he made his way back to you. “I owe you a conversation, that’s for sure.” You nod at his words, “When can we have it?” You asked, knowing he needed to leave for work. “I’ll text you as soon as we wrap up the case.” You nod again as he makes his way back to his front door.
He’s the one who turns around this time, calling out your name. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “For everything that happened before. I’m going to make it right as soon as I get home.” You give him a soft smile and a gentle nod before turning around to make your way home.
It takes a full week for the team to wrap up the case. Reid and JJ ask if they can spend the night in Phoenix, not wanting to be on the jet at three in the morning. However, Aaron vetoes this immediately, knowing he needs to be home as quickly as possible to talk to you.
He texts you while Luke drives the SUV, letting you know he will be boarding shortly and to expect him to be over sometime in the morning tomorrow. You’re fast asleep and do not reply, but Aaron knows you’ll see it in the morning.
And you do. You check your phone first thing in the morning. Usually, your Saturdays are spent catching up on missed homework throughout the week, but today you immediately made your way to the kitchen. When you are stressed, this is where you usually find yourself. You threw on the “kiss the cook” apron Elise had given you a few Christmases ago, pulling up the recipe for raspberry cheese danishes you had seen online the other day.
You had just put them in the oven when you heard the knocks on your door. Aaron had gotten just a few hours of sleep before he made his way to your house. His heart was beating in his chest as he waited for you to open the door.
All of his nerves quickly dissipated as he saw you in your apron. He smiled at it, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss before either of you could even say hello. You giggled when he let you go, opening the door wider so he could come in. You were glad he greeted you the way he did. It took away some of the awkwardness that was looming over you due to the conversation topic.
“It smells phenomenal in here,” he complimented as he made his way to the dining room table. He sat down at the of the table and you settled into the seat on his left. “I’m sorry I had to run the other day, duty calls.” You nodded in understanding at his words. “Did you think about my question?” You asked timidly, wanting to get the conversation started so it could be over sooner.
“I did,” he said with a thoughtful nod, “I’m not quite sure how I would define us if I’m being honest.” His answer left you speechless. Not in a bad way, and certainly not in a good way, but in a way that signaled that you didn’t know how to reply. “I mean, I don’t know how I would define us back then.” He continues on.
For the first time since he kissed you when you opened the door, he made eye contact with you. “I would like to define us as a couple now if that is alright with you.” He didn’t miss the smile that quickly spread across your face and the way you started to twiddle your fingers. “Aaron Hotchner,” You let out an overdramatic gasp, “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
Aaron laughed at your theatrics, “Yes, I am.” You immediately threw yourself in his lap, pressing a kiss to his blushed cheek. “I would love to!” He could feel you smile against his face as you threw your arms around his neck. He let you love on him for a little bit before you made your way back to your seat. “I think there are a few things I have to tell you first, though,” Aaron informed again and you noticed the way his body tensed up. You didn’t say anything, creating a safe space for him to get anything he needed off of his chest.
“Ever since the day I barged in after you left me that voice message, this is what I wanted. I wanted to kiss you when you greeted me at the door. I wanted to watch cheesy films with you. I still really want all of that,” He let out a deep breath, “but I come with a lot, Y/N. Even just being with me puts you in danger. My last relationship ended due to my job, and I lost her. My wife, she, uh,” His eyes began to well up with tears.
You reached your hand out to hold his, understanding what he was trying to tell you. His wife, Jack’s mom, had died because of something related to his job. You weren’t going to force him to continue if it was this painful for him to talk about. “I understand,” You spoke gently, not wanting to upset him more, “And I’m okay with that risk.”
Aaron nodded at your words, not really knowing if you meant them. You did. Even if you wouldn’t admit it quite yet, you were in love with Aaron. You understood his job was scary and he dealt with a lot of evil in his line of work, but not even that could keep you from wanting a relationship with him.
“And, there will be times when I’m not around. My job, it is very demanding and very important to me, and to the world, I think. When they need me, I have to go.” You knew this part, he was away a lot. That’s why you had spent so much time texting before he was aware of the crush you had on him. However, before you could respond, the oven dinged, telling you it was time to take out the danishes.
Without thinking about it, you jumped up from the table, exclaiming, “My danishes are done!” Aaron laughed at this, following you with his eyes as you made your way to the oven, pulling out the desserts and sitting them on the counter to cool. You were looking over them are you spoke, “I know that, Aaron. I’m a busy bee, too. I think I’ll be okay when you’re away.”
“These look this delicious,” he complimented, reaching for one. You quickly swatted his hand away, “They need to cool!” He laughed and pressed a kiss to your neck. “What are they?” He asked, not moving his face from the crook of your neck. “Raspberry cheese danishes! It’s a new recipe.” You could feel yourself getting giddy at the thought of Aaron Hotchner, your boyfriend, and personal taste-tester.
“Well, they look and smell amazing. You’ll have to make some for the BAU holiday party.” He said, very casually. You froze in your spot as he unwrapped from your figure. “You want me to go?” You were surprised at his invitation. From getting to know him, you’d realized that the people in the BAU were some of the most important people in his whole life. “Of course,” he smiled, “Everyone brings their significant others.”
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Sweet Possession (Part 1)
Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)
Warning: Age Gap, Smut
It was about four months ago when you met him, this blue-eyed stranger who would change your life forever. It was as if you had stepped into the unknown, shedding your old, familiar skin. He made your head spin with his charm and allure for the unknown.
When you talked to him for the very first time, it was as if you had known each other for years. He listened to you, and you felt as though he truly understood who you were and what you needed in life.
Despite being over 12 years older than you , Thomas Shelby made you feel safe and wanted, desired and accepted. You never felt such a connection to someone who had such an intense personality as Thomas and, most importantly for all, he showed you respect.
Thomas (or Tommy as you called him) was a wealthy business man from Birmingham and whilst you did not know much about his business activities, you knew that he was responsible for import and export of goods such Tabacco and cars.
With both of your parents not having survived the sinking of the Titanic, you had no one but yourself to stand up for and take care of yourself until Tommy came into your life.
He took you in and took care of you a few months ago, admiring your inner strength and determination to overcome all the challenges that life had thrown at you ever since you had turned 16, which was almost three years before you met him, your soon to be husband.
You were 19 years old when you met the 32-year-old in a pub named the Garrison shortly after you had started working there behind the bar. That night, Tommy had saved you from some unwanted attention from some other patrons and as you sat together that night, your connection was undeniable, palpable. Every guess or gut feeling you had ever had about your future guesses or dreams was confirmed in an instant. This was the moment that would change it all.
Fast-forward a bit and soon you found yourself living in Tommy's mansion, which you had yet to fully discover. The mansion was home to your own magnificent bedroom, Surreal wallpapers, wax-leafed walls, brass fixtures, and white porcelain handles.
It was surreal coming from almost living on the street to this and when Tommy asked you to marry him a few weeks ago, you accepted blindly only thinking of the safety and love he gave you.
The wedding ceremony itself was small, with only some of his family in attendance. You were his second wife; his first wife having died four years ago and this was something that did not bother you. You accepted him with all as his baggage, just as he accepted you.
***
Having respected your wishes not to engage in any sexual activities before marriage, you two waited for the big night, anticipating the pleasure of having each other's bodies.
Tommy had told you through the weeks leading up to your wedding day that he would be gentle, as he assumed you were still a virgin and had no experience with men. He also told you that he would teach you everything there was to know about sex, which was a prospect that excited you.
You knew that being abstinent for more than four months, must have been difficult for a man his age, and you couldn't help but admire him for his respect towards you and your decision to wait until your wedding night.
Unlike many other men, he said that he had no interest in the services of prostitutes and you believed him. He showed you that intimacy was not just about sex but more about the emotional connection between two people. But as each day passed, the tension between you two grew stronger and stronger.
The big night finally arrived. You had taken a bath, washing your whole body using a lavender-scented soap and then slid your body gently into a silky nightgown that you had bought in an expensive store downtown especially for you wedding night. As you looked at the mirror, you could not help but feel a bit nervous.
Tommy knocked gently on your door and after a short moment, he opened it up.
As you stood there in your nightgown, he couldn't help but stare. His eyes wandered over every bit of your body, and you could see the hunger in his eyes from a mile away.
Approaching you, he gently took your hand and drew you closer to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, making your core tighten.
"You are beautiful, Love," Thomas whispered in your ear, brushing a loose tendril of hair from your face, his breath warm against your skin.
He then took hold of your left hand again and tenderly kissed your wedding ring – a token of your eternal love. Your heart raced and your nerves tingled at his tender display of affection. Your cheeks felt flushed and the room seemed to be spinning as the moment you'd been waiting for your entire life was finally about to happen.
Your hands felt clammy and you were struggling to find the words to respond to the man you'd married.
"Tommy," you gasped. "I want you," you stammered, looking up into his sharp, handsome face.
He caught your gaze with a knowing smile. "Good, because I want you too," Thomas said, with his eyes blazing and expectant.
As you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself being swept away on a tide of anticipation and desire.
Thomas stood in front of you, his fingers tracing the outline of your delicate collarbone.
He leaned in to softly kiss your quivering lips. His tongue danced upon yours for a mere moment before he pulled away. Slowly, he unbuttoned your night dress and let it fall gently to the floor, revealing your perky, young breasts to the cool air of the bedroom.
He took a moment to admire your inexperienced and vulnerable beauty before he began to trail kisses down your neck, across your chest, and onto your sensitive nipples.
"Oh God," you gasped, your hands clenching in his thick, dark hair as he teased you with his mouth.
"You like that, do you?" Thomas whispered, a wicked grin on his face.
The heat between your thighs became unbearable. You wanted him to do more, to touch you there, to do away with the last scraps of clothing that separated you from the man you married.
"Why don't you lie down for me, Love?" Thomas suggested, as he began to remove his own clothes.
You nodded eagerly, unable to find your voice in the intensity of the moment. Your breath hitched as you watched him undress. His muscled chest and chiseled abdomen were revealed to you as he shed his shirt, and your mouth went dry as he removed his trousers to stand proudly before you.
You laid back against the plush, velvet pillows, feeling self-conscious about your own nakedness in front of such a strong, confident man.
You noticed that his member stood tall and rigid, ready to claim you as his.
"Stop looking at my cock and lay back, Sweetheart," Thomas chuckled, sensing your discomfort. "I promise I won't hurt you," he then reassured you and you swallowed hard, nodding in compliance as you scooted further up on the bed.
Thomas followed, crawling up the bed with a seductive grace. He settled between your thighs and you trembled with anticipation.
"Open for me," Thomas whispered, his fingers lightly tracing your slick folds.
You whimpered at the sensation of his touch, your body tensing as he explored you intimately. Slowly, you obeyed his demand and allowed your legs to fall open. You felt exposed and vulnerable, but also safe in Thomas' arms, which held you with a protectiveness you needed in this new and uncertain moment.
"Good girl," Thomas praised, his fingers circling your clit with a tantalizing slowness. "You are already so nice and wet for me, eh?" Thomas whispered, a suggestive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
You nodded, biting your lower lip as Thomas began to circle your clit with his thumb, all the while keeping his fingers buried inside of you.
"You are so beautiful Y/N. I am a lucky man," Thomas murmured, sensing your pleasure at his touch.
You nodded again, too caught up in the euphoria of the moment to find your voice.
Thomas began to thrust his fingers back and forth, his thumb continuing to rub your clit in slow, steady circles.
You threw your head back and moaned, your hips moving with a mind of their own. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting close to the edge.
"Let go for me, Love," Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let yourself go. I promise you'll enjoy it."
With those words, something inside of you snapped. You closed your eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over you, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.
"That's it," Thomas murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "That's my good girl. You're so beautiful when you cum, sweetheart," Thomas said, his voice thick with lust as he brushed a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.
You smiled weakly, still catching your breath after the powerful release you had just experienced. You had never felt anything like that before and you couldn't believe how intensely Thomas had been able to make you feel.
"I love you Tommy ," you whispered, half-ashamed of the needy tone in your voice.
Thomas kissed you softly, his lips tasting of salt and lust. "I love you too, my wife," he said, before his hand started to wander down your body again.
His fingers found your wetness once more and he stroked you gently before, finally, climbing on top of you.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Love," Thomas whispered, his breath hot against your cheek as he teased your entrance with his tip.
"Please be gentle , Tommy," you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size and intensity of Thomas' manhood.
He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. "Of course, Sweetheart. I'll be as gentle as I can," he said and, with that, he slowly began to push himself inside of you.
You gasped at the initial pain and pressure of his penetration, clutching onto the sheets as he filled you up completely.
Thomas paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.
"Are you alright, Love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
You nodded, biting your lower lip as you tried to relax and accommodate his girth.
"Yes, I'm okay," you assured him, and Thomas began to thrust in and out of you with slow, deliberate movements.
At first, it felt foreign and slightly painful, but as Thomas' rhythm gradually picked up speed, your discomfort gave way to a growing sense of pleasure and desire.
"You feel so good, Sweetheart," Thomas groaned, as he plunged deeper and deeper inside of you.
Your legs wrapped around Thomas' waist, drawing him closer still, as you moaned and writhed beneath him.
You had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and you could feel yourself edging closer and closer to the precipice of climax.
You clung to Thomas, your fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his back as you moaned and gasped beneath him.
"Oh, God, Tommy," you panted, your hips bucking to meet his thrusts. "I think I'm going to cum again."
Thomas' eyes blazed with a fierce hunger as he drove himself deeper inside of you, your bodies slapping together in a primal dance.
"That's right, Love. Cum for me," Thomas growled, his voice low and husky.
"I want to feel you tighten around me, Love. I want to hear you scream my name while I make you come."
With those filthy words, Thomas thrust deeper and harder into you, sending wave after wave of pulsating pleasure surging through your body.
"Yes, Tommy! Yes!" you screamed, your voice mingling with his deep, guttural grunts.
"Fuck, you feel so tight and warm. So fucking good," Thomas groaned, sweat dripping from his brow as he plunged into your depths again and again.
"Don't cum inside me ," you gasped, suddenly remembering a crucial detail as you had previously discussed that you were not yet ready to have children with him.
"I won't," Thomas groaned. "But I need to feel you a little longer. You just feel too good around my cock, Love," Thomas pleaded as he continued to drive himself in and out of you with wild, untamed passion.
You could feel another orgasm building within you, and you knew it would be powerful. You wanted to hold off for as long as possible, wanting to savor every exquisite sensation that Thomas was eliciting from your hyper-sensitive body.
But your pleasure took over and you succumbed to the tidal wave of ecstasy that washed over you. You screamed his name as you squeezed your thighs around his flexing hips.
"Good girl," Thomas panted in your ear, swirling his hips as he forced yet another powerful orgasm from your aching flesh. "So good. So, so fucking good."
You arched your back and collapsed against the bed, trembling beneath him as pain, pleasure, shame and wonderment coursed through your veins like liquid fire.
"Fuck, I am going to cum," Thomas groaned, the thickness of his cock throbbing within you before pulling out quickly and spraying sticky streaks of semen over your stomach, breasts, and bedsheets.
Both of you were breathing heavily as the room filled with the scent of your mutual pleasure, stocks damp with your fluids and mixed with the evidence of his release on your skin.
Neither of you spoke for a few moments, enjoying the quiet moment of contentment that came on the heels of such intense satisfaction.
Thomas broke the silence, removing evidence of his release from your body, as one would clean a precious piece of artwork after its masterpiece was finished.
"Did I hurt you, Love?" Thomas asked, his eyes softening as they met yours.
"No, I-I wanted that," you admitted, your body still shivering from the intense pleasure. "It was perfect," you told him, and he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly, recalling how long he wanted to do this.
Unbeknownst to you, he had been wanting you for many years and now, finally, you were his. His wife. His possession. His triumph.
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Megumi falling in love for the first time?
Attempts at Friendship are Unappreciated
Synopsis: Megumi doesn’t have a need for friends, let alone a lover. But upon getting his first crush, he learns some new things about himself, like maybe he cares more than he thinks.
pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x GN!Reader
content warning: SFW, potential friends to lovers, Megumi sorting out his feelings sort of stuff because cynical, overthinker Megumi is my favorite Megumi.
If you were to ask Megumi, he didn’t have any need for friends. And he has been asked before by people like Gojo and his sister. The answer was always the same. He prefers being alone. People were too complicated. Too selfish. Too good. Too everything, really. And he was, well, himself.
Even after arriving at Jujutsu High, it’s still unnerving to him to have someone talk to him so earnestly, like his eyes weren’t permanently fixed with irritation, like he wasn’t constantly avoiding others, like he didn’t wear indifference like a new fur coat in the height of winter.
Itadori was an unexpected exception. An outburst of emotion intravenously linked him to the other boy, the golden strings of their destinies twined and knotted together on Fate’s spinning wheel.
You, on the other hand, have no reason to befriend him. He’s never had anything to offer others in return for their company, which never bothered him until he met you.
Megumi questioned what it was about you that allows you to get so close. So, he lets you talk, chattering his ear off in the covered walkway hosting the vending machines.
He studies you inch by inch, searching for something in the bright expression on your face and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile; he still doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for. Your motive – the reason for wanting to talk to someone like him?
“What’s your favorite color?” you ask.
“I don’t have one.”
It may sound like a rude dismissal of your question but it's the truth, the painfully boring truth. He’s never put much thought into trivial things like that. The fact settles heavily in his stomach and rings hollow in his chest like when his sister said he’d never learn to make friends if he didn’t put himself out there.
Back then, Megumi pretended not to have heard her. In truth, it bothered him when she said it, only for the feeling to quickly fade away before he even left school that day. That strange void he felt back then always seems to resurface at the worst of times.
“Would you say that you like black or silver better? How about blue?”
Megumi looks down and plays with the tab on his orange juice can, avoiding the thing about you that makes him want to hear you talk. Megumi has no need for friends. Attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.
“They’re all fine,” he grumbles out. It’s the maximum he allows.
Megumi doesn’t have a type. It’s another one of those trivial things he’s never bothered to think about until his head was literally cracked through the pavement.
He knows all about types though, and he knows as much as he cares about romance from the bad to the good. Sweaty palms, blushing faces, pounding hearts were all reoccuring themes in his books.
Megumi never thought he’d have romantic feelings for anyone, no matter how fleeting. He reckons he isn’t capable of it. He just isn’t wired that way.
It’s comforting in a sense. It means he didn’t have to worry about attachments. Sure, he loves his sister, and Gojo, well, he cares for his benefactor, but he’s never considered the older man someone he felt okay investing all his feelings into. People his own age were complicated enough; adults were worse, his father was worse; the little he remembers anyway.
When he thinks about the way he met Gojo who too conveniently saved him from the Zen’in clan in exchange for becoming his student, it’s hard for him to let his trust flow purely even after all this time; even when Gojo took it upon himself to do Megumi favors like putting Itadori's room right next door (another thing Megumi didn't appreciate).
Megumi blames his long-seated resentment for the reason his heart starts to work overtime the day you present friendship bracelets to everyone. They’re fancy; many steps above the cheap kind that you’d find at some discount convenience store with plastic alphabets and random beads and symbols. He assumes a couple of the pieces might be real.
Kugisaki’s is green, shining on her wrist like emeralds. Megumi thinks it suits someone like Kugisaki, who would undoubtedly love to be covered in jewels. Itadori has a similar one, rotating with a pattern of red and opaque white pieces.
Standing in that hall, drowning out the conversation between Kugisaki and Itadori about who has the prettier bracelet, Megumi realizes he’s next.
It starts when you step in front of him; there’s a cautious tone to your voice when you say his name because you already know: attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.
It's with a roll of anxiousness, the one that always comes with the mystery of whether his exchange with someone will be positive or negative and the skeptic thought in his head that reminds him most people always want something in return, that makes him throw up a wall.
“These probably aren’t your thing but I made one for you too,” you preface. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t really sure what to put on it so I made some guesses.”
You’re right. Friendship bracelets aren’t his thing; needing a token like a bracelet to prove your relationship to someone is asinine. It’s against what is supposed to make a friendship special. Strong friendships should need no words, right?
Most importantly, he doesn’t need it, and there’s no reason for you to give him one.
“You keep it,” he starts. However, it’s already too late as you grab his arm and slide the trinket over his hand.
“I don’t—” he starts again; there’s a bit of surprise in the way you look at him, the way everyone stops and looks at him actually. This quickly becomes one of those times where it’d be easier to go with the flow than to fight the current. “Fine.” He clears his throat. “Only because you already made it,” he explains more fully, stifling the embarrassment that wants to bubble from his chest with so much attention.
Like before, he finds himself too focused on watching you, the way your eyes soften from surprise and rejection to shining stars. He thinks this must be how the protagonists in those books feel when heat creeps up their neck. Those books also left him sorely unprepared that it would go past neck to his face and ears.
He breaks away from the situation, finding a way to retreat into the background to shield himself from the gooey feeling permeating the air. He drops his gaze to his arm, focusing on the bracelet with his name accompanied by a repetition of blue and silver, connecting the two—four—of you together.
Megumi fixes his sleeve over the bracelet, but he can’t hide how painfully aware he is of the charms rolling against his skin.
It was both a pleasant feeling and completely alien.
It broke.
Megumi was a bit reckless against a low-level curse, and it broke. He didn’t even realize it until after the battle was over and one of the silver charms were rolling under his foot.
It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was bound to happen eventually considering this line of work. Yet, he still picked up the few pieces he could separate from the gravel, and the entire ride home his wrist feels unreasonably bare.
Thinking about how he messed up makes him annoyed at himself, especially when he wonders what you’d think if you noticed he wasn’t wearing it. You’d probably think he tossed it somewhere; that he didn’t like it. He liked it. The same way he likes to listen to you talk on car rides home after missions or when you ask him to hang out with you and the others or when you read all the books he recommends with the protagonists that are quickly becoming too relatable with every skipped heartbeat and tongue-tied word. He’s frustrated to acknowledge why that’s the case.
It’s only been three months since the start of the school year, he thinks. It took only three months for his thoughts to start drifting to his classmates, with you almost always center stage in them.
When he arrives back at the school, he finds your room and knocks on your door. He shows you what little remains of the gift you gave him, as if he needs to immediately absolve himself of any wrongdoing.
“Do you want me to make you another one?” you ask cautiously.
Megumi can guess why you’re hesitant considering he only accepted your gift because of peer pressure. He still believes gifts like this are silly and unnecessary.
But…
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
He wants it.
So, he goes into your room where he watches you begin the process of making him another bracelet. You ask him which accessories he would prefer, and like always he doesn’t have much preference other than what you think is best. As long as it isn’t too silly, of course.
He gives his undivided attention to how your fingertips pour over your work kit and the many square boxes filled with different miniature shapes before you carefully pick out one with a little dog face.
“I think this one is good,” you whisper to yourself before continuing your search for another complementing bead.
You smile as you work. It’s nice. Cute even as you bite down on your lip in concentration; and right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information other than note the way it makes his palms feel clammy especially when he notices your eyes lift back up to his.
Megumi notices a lot about you actually. He notices how you always go out your way to get his, well, everyone’s opinion on everything. He notices that whenever you share your snacks with everyone that you always save ginger for him. He notices how your gaze lingers on him when you ask if everyone is in one piece after difficult missions. He also notices how your finger stops over a silver square, one with a little black heart carved in each side. He wonders, perhaps too hopefully, if the charm is just one you think he’d like or if it means more than that.
“Why do you always keep trying to talk to me?” he asks, fighting the urge to beg you to stop getting stuck in his mind so much.
Your head snaps up from what you’re doing.
“What do you mean? We’re teammates,” you answer simply.
“Aren’t missions enough? We don’t need to interact aside from that.”
You pinch your eyebrows at him, and there’s a frown on your face. “Sure we do.”
“There’s no reason.”
It’s not like he ever saved your life, not like Itadori. It’s not like he has a somewhat familial relationship with you, like Gojo. You’re not his sibling or his parent; he’s not the friendlist either so there’s no reason to try to get closer any more than necessary, and there’s no reason for him to be feeling so nervous right now.
“How about because I like talking to you? I think you’re pretty funny, and you’re a kind person.” You shake your head, laughing. “I don’t know. I just like being friends with you.”
Megumi doesn’t know what he was expecting. Some deep explanation why you keep trying to get close to him? Some selfish excuse from you that he could use to warrant pushing you away. A reason to justify why he likes you so much? A reason to hope you like him just as much?
Maybe.
There doesn’t need to be some special reason for you wanting to be his friend, which means he doesn’t really need a reason either.
“I see.”
“Finished,” you say, holding out his newly made bracelet to him. “I poured some of my cursed energy into it, so it won’t break so easily next time.”
Megumi feels calm once again when he feels the weight and roll of the beads on his skin again; the aura of your curse energy humming through it makes the connection back to you much more noticeable.
“What about me?” you ask, drawing his attention. “Do you like being friends with me?”
Megumi can’t answer that, not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he feels like his tongue weighs more than lead as you lean closer into him.
His eyes find your lips, soft and parted. This is the first time he’s gotten the urge to kiss someone. It makes his stomach whirlwind, and he quickly finds a way to answer you without having to look at you as he picks at one of the charms.
“Can I make you one?”
The next morning, Megumi decides to go out with you and the others for breakfast, which in hindsight was a mistake as Itadori points out the new accesory you’re wearing on your wrist.
“Hey, you got one too now.”
You smile, holding it up proudly. “Megumi made it for me!”
“Megumi?!” Itadori blurts out.
“Made it for you?” Nobara asks with raised eyebrows and a hand on her hip.
“He did a really good job.”
It’s like the time before when you first gave them their gifts, and everyone is looking at him again. “I didn’t do anything special; a monkey could do it,” he mumbles out.
Itadori is the first to crack a laugh followed by Kugisaki. Then, the two of them start muttering and teasing him in unison.
“He’s so modest,” Itadori points out.
“Loverboy,” Kugisaki whispers.
“Can we call you Megumi too?” Itadori asks.
Megumi doesn’t have the patience to consider whether the other boy is being genuine or not as he grits his teeth and growls out a quick “shut up” before konking Itadori on the head to prove his point. It’s enough to make them leave him alone for now as Itadori accidentally trips into Kugisaki from the force.
“That was completely unnecessary, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki grumbles as she pushes Itadori off and stands back to her feet.
Megumi sighs.
This is why he doesn’t want friends.
“Did you just sigh at me!”
“If that’s what you heard,” he tells her.
“You better sleep with both eyes open!”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
Yet if it’s those two then he guesses having friends isn’t completely unbareable.
Suddenly, Megumi loses focus at the timbre of your laugh.
“You guys are starting early today.”
You’re still laughing at them, harder now actually, and it’s precious. He throws his gaze to the wall as if he’s ignoring Kugisaki and not trying to hide the heat blooming on his cheeks when you glance at him, making him aware that he’s the reason for your laughter.
Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his thumb over the bracelet and the heart you left behind there.
Friendship is something he’s coming around to. Having a crush for the first time, well, he still needs work on figuring that out.
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Following Rules - Spencer Reid (smut)
I don't know where this idea came from, but boy do I love this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: What if JJ had an older daughter? What if Spencer had known said daughter ever since she had been a teenager? What if Spencer no longer remembers the rules he was supposed to follow when (y/n) finally gives in and pulls Spencer close?
Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f and m), age gap, mom's best friend situation, teasing
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (3k words)
If there was one thing Spencer had learned from an early age, it was following rules. Perhaps it wasn’t so much about the rules themselves, about the sometimes random-seeming words that somehow managed to transmit a message burned into his mind from the second the rules were spoken to him, no matter the age. Perhaps it wasn’t so much about how the people teaching him these rules tried to pronounce the important words, underlining the importance of the rules he was supposed to follow. No, it wasn’t about these things, but it was all about Spencer desperately trying to fit in, hoping to blend in with those around him as he remembered sentences that had no real meaning to him.
If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was remembering everything, from single words, long conversations or the plots of books that had more pages than even some other so-called geniuses could count. He could remember every rule that had been forced into his mind, no matter his age, but fuck, those rules were really testing him whenever he was around her. The girl who was just above twenty-one, the girl he had known since she was a teenager, the girl who called his best friend “Mom”.
“C’mon, (y/n), please. It’s just one night.” JJ’s sigh echoed through the living room, hands placed on her waist, eyes staring her daughter down. (Y/n) was sitting next to Spencer, eyes flickering up from the book she was reading, barely listening to the words her mother had spoken.
“I have a test next week, I need to concentrate and not babysit Henry. Why don’t you ask Penelope?” Before JJ could reply, eyes momentarily fluttering close to give in to the inner battle she was fighting – torn between being proud of her daughter for her academic success and the annoyance (y/n)’s determination pushed through her – Spencer spoke up, forcing all eyes towards him.
“I am free, I can totally look after Henry while (y/n) studies for her test.” The softness of Spencer’s voice momentarily distracted (y/n) from the way her heart began to speed up whenever he was close to her, wearing that smile that could melt her from the inside out, paired with the glistening pupils she saw whenever her eyes fluttered close.
(Y/n) was anything but proud to admit the way she had been crushing on Spencer for the past years. Once a harmless crush she had tried to accept when she was a teenager, it had escalated into something deeper, something more sincere the older she got. Deep down she tried to accept that this wouldn’t ever be more than a crush, a one-sided one that is, and yet she wasn’t ready to shake those feelings just yet, clinging to the thin thread as if it was her lifeline, saving her from drowning.
“You don’t have to, Spence. I know how much you enjoy your Saturday evenings.” (Y/n) tried to stop her eyes from rolling, not wanting to give her emotions too much room as she was surrounded by two profilers, but the small bits of annoyance filling her whenever her mother looked at Spencer with those big eyes of hers were hard to shake. She wouldn't be surprised if her mother had some feelings for Spencer, leaving (y/n) with a bitter taste on her tongue.
“Oh, no, I’d love to do it. And I can even help (y/n) with studying.” Their eyes met for a few seconds, seconds that felt like hours, forcing heat to rise in her system. “Not like she needs any of my help, but who knows, maybe I’ll get the chance to learn something new from her. So it’s a win-win situation for us all, I’d say?”
……
Music rang in her ears, eyes focused on her notes, trying not to give in to the distraction silently calling for her, luring her eyes towards Spencer’s frame. A sigh wanted to leave (y/n), cursing herself for giving in all too easily, not used to being around Spencer without her mother or any other member of the BAU around. Fuck, she’d need to get a grip before one of them could see through her lies, all too aware of her crush on Spencer.
“I think it’s almost dinner time. Do you want to eat with Henry and me?” Spencer’s soft voice drew a smile onto (y/n)’s lips, clearing her throat as she tried to shake her sinful thoughts.
“Uhm, sure. I think Mom prepared something for us.” She felt his eyes on her frame, watching (y/n) make her way towards the fridge, reaching for the containers filled with food. The sound of his Converse meeting the ground filled the momentary silence, coming to a halt next to (y/n) to help her fill their plates, standing way too close.
“How’s studying going? Do you need any help?” Heat rose to her face, eyes forced to concentrate on the food rather than the unmistakable grin tugging on Spencer’s lips. For a moment (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder if he was aware of the buzzing atmosphere, of the way he made her feel something she had only read about in books so far.
“It’s going okay. Maybe you can quiz me later, once Henry’s in bed?” God, she was digging her own grave, a grave so deep she’d never be able to escape. Just the mere thought of spending any more time with Spencer, without her little brother near, left her shuddering in excitement.
“Absolutely, whatever you need, (y/n), I’m here for you.”
Fuck, if it was only that simple.
……
“I knew you wouldn’t need any of my help, you’re acing it!” A proud grin tugged on her lips as she sunk further into the couch, feet finding Spencer's lap before she could even think about what she was doing. But while (y/n) was panicking inside, debating pulling her feet back, Spencer didn’t seem to mind the contact, hand finding her right foot without taking his eyes off the sheet he was using to quiz her.
“Alright, two more. Name me some sources for Shakespeare's Macbeth.” With a hum leaving (y/n), she tried to focus on the question, yet barely able to do so as Spencer’s hand began to move up from her foot to her shin, absentmindedly stroking her skin. Goosebumps covered her body, growing more and more with every passing second.
“Uhm,” her eyes fluttered close, hoping to collect herself. “Bits from the Daemonologie of King James, several tales in Holinshed's Chronicles, and parts of Hector Boece’s book Historia Gentis Scotorum.”
“Good girl.” The praise was spoken all too softy, yet loud enough to force her eyes open, finding his darkening ones within seconds. Spencer was looking at her with something unreadable swimming in his pupils, something that seemed to call her name, begging (y/n) to move closer, to find her way to him with her gaze set on his lips. But she didn’t try to move, not daring to give in first. “Last question, finish the following quote: Was the hope drunk-”
“Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to look so green and pale, at what it did so freely?” Spencer hummed as (y/n) finished the first parts from Lady Macbeth’s monologue, unable to meet his eyes. She felt him shift, watched him place the sheet down before he turned back towards her.
“From this time such I account thy love. Art thou afeared to be the same in thine own act and valour, as thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting ‘I dare not’, wait upon ‘I would’, like the poor cat i’th’ adage?” Spencer’s words rang in (y/n)’s ears, eyes focused on his wandering hand, moving up her leg till it found her trembling fingers. Their eyes met, wordlessly communicating, forcing her to shift her weight, slowly sitting up.
“You know, if there’s one thing my time at the BAU has taught me, it’s seizing every chance, even if you’re held back by rules you are supposed to follow, if it’s something your heart desires. I’m tired of fighting this, (y/n).” Spencer whispered his words, words that forced a grin onto (y/n)’s lip, barely believing her luck. Perhaps it was the warmth his words pushed through her body, perhaps it was the excitement his words made her feel, whatever it was that guided her on, it forced her to press her lips against Spencer’s before either of them could overthink this very situation.
Within seconds she found herself in Spencer’s lap, thighs placed on either side of his, squeezing them. A moan clawed through the both of them in unison, tongues meeting as their hands started wandering. (Y/n)’s fingers tugged on Spencer’s curls, forcing the man to groan against her mouth as his hands found her behind, squeezing the soft flesh through the thin fabric of her leggings.
“Spencer,” she hummed his name, fingers moving down to his chest, toying with his sweater, desperate to get it off him. “I need you, I want you, all of you."
“You have me, pretty girl, I’m all yours.” A smile widened on (y/n)’s lips as she kissed him again, shifting her weight further against him. The deep groan that left Spencer as her core met his hardening cock made her feel as if she was on fire, needing to feel more of it.
“Bedroom?” All Spencer could do was whisper the word, not trusting his voice, trying to hold back before he’d fuck her ruthlessly on the couch. Wordlessly she guided Spencer to her room, pulling her shirt over her head before he could get his hands on her. The sight left Spencer moaning, teeth nibbling on his lower lip, “You’re so beautiful, more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”
“Onto your knees, be a good girl for me.” The shift of his voice, now dripping with dominance, made her walls clench around nothing, watching him plop down near the edge of her bed. She sank to her knees close to him, eyes following his long fingers, watching how they undid his trousers, how they freed his cock.
This moment had something so intimate to it, (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t done this much sooner. For a second, she was forced to think of her mother, wondering how she’d react to knowing that Spencer was about to fuck her daughter, thoughts that were swallowed the second (y/n)’s gaze found Spencer’s twitching cock.
“C’mon, open that pretty mouth of yours for me.” Wordlessly she followed his command, eyes rolling back into her head as he forced her lips apart with the red tip of his cock. Groans clawed through Spencer as her tongue explored the parts he had pushed into her mouth, tasting him, feeling him, hoping that she’d never forget this very moment again. “Tap my thigh two times if this is too much for you, sweetheart.”
She hummed around him, choking on her breath as Spencer forced himself deeper down her throat. (Y/n) gagged around him, tears were instantly dripping from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks one by one, but she didn’t dare pull back, wanting to make Spencer proud. He fucked her mouth slowly, trying to keep his moans from growing any louder, not daring to attract any unwanted attention.
“You’re taking me as if you were made for me, such a good girl for me.” His praises left (y/n) moaning around his cock, trying to keep her hands from wandering, needing to take care of the heat growing between her thighs. Spencer could tell how needy she was, how much she wanted to feel his hands on her – a sight that only spurred him on. She was at his mercy, would follow his every command, like his own toy to use, to own, to love.
“I want you to swallow for me, can you do that, pretty girl?” Their eyes met, his blown wide from the lust thumping through his veins, hers glassy from the tears that kept on rolling. She tried to nod, tried to move her head, though without any luck, Spencer’s cock was too deep down her throat, forcing her to hold still. Her hands pumped the parts he didn’t force down her throat, adding more friction to the way he fucked her mouth.
He twitched against her tongue, about to cum down her throat, letting go with a silent groan. (Y/n) watched his head roll back, eyes fluttering close, lips parted – a sight she’d take to grave with her. She swallowed every drop he offered her, groaning at the salty taste, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time he fucked her mouth, the last time she got to taste him.
“Take your clothes off and get onto the bed, sweetheart.” Spencer’s gaze burned straight through her, watching her shuffle out of her sweatpants, panties and bra, bare in front of him. The mere sight of (y/n), naked for him, was enough to leave his cock twitching once again, already begging to feel her around him.
Their eyes held contact as Spencer stepped closer, quickly undressing himself before he rested between her thighs. He pulled her in for a teeth-clashing kiss, hovering over her with his hands exploring her naked body, cupping her breasts, pinching her hardening nipples before they found her dripping core.
“Oh god, feels so good, Spence.” She whispered her words, eyes fluttering close as she felt his warm breath clashing against her soft skin, tongue darting out to run along her folds, tasting her arousal. Spencer took his time with exploring her cunt, thumb rubbing her pulsing bundle as he dipped his tongue into her tightness.
(Y/n) choked on her moans, having to cover her mouth to try and stop her sounds from clawing through her too loudly. He studied her with mischief swimming in his pupils, set on making her thrash around beneath him, body shaking from the first of many orgasms he’d push through her.
His thumb picked up its speed as he pushed two fingers into her, instantly finding her swollen spot, close to making her cum right there. Soft praises left him, praises she couldn’t pick up on, already too far gone, about to cum for him. Her teeth drew blood from her lip, biting into the soft flesh all too forcefully to try and keep her sounds bottled in.
“Cum for me, pretty girl, let go.” Spencer’s words seemed to push her over the edge, holding her close as if he was scared she’d disappear right in front of his eyes, not daring to ever let her out of his sight again. His fingers fucked her through her high, marvelling at (y/n) and her pleasure-drunken features. “You did so well for me, so well.”
“Spence,” (y/n) murmured his name with her voice raspy and exhausted, yet dripping with anticipation. “Fuck me, I need you inside of me.”
“Are you sure?” His hands found her chin, forcing (y/n) to get lost in his pupils, struggling to reply. A soft “Yes” rolled off her tongue, momentarily pushing him away to reach for her nightstand, placing a condom in his hand. They kept holding eye contact as Spencer rolled the condom down his hard cock, as he positioned himself near her entrance, and as he pushed into her all too slowly.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” His curses left her clenching around him, needing to deeply exhale as she tried to adjust to his size. Spencer watched her intently, not daring to move before she quietly whimpered his name, telling him to fuck her. He took his time, wanting to properly enjoy this very moment, feeling her walls flutter around him with every thrust.
(Y/n)’s moans guided him on, eyes staring up at Spencer, at the concentration tugging on his features, on the way his tongue kissed his teeth, on the way his eyes swam with a mixture of love and lust. His name rolled off her tongue every now and then, a mere whisper made for his ears only, a confession that weighed all too heavily, a confession that left both their hearts racing in excitement.
He fucked her faster with every passing second, holding onto the headrest of her bed to try and stop himself from properly destroying her, not wanting to mark her up on their first night together. And even though Spencer tried to control himself, wanting to properly concentrate on (y/n), she couldn’t help but beg for more, letting go of a “Please” every now and then, luring Spencer further into the darkness calling his name.
“Touch yourself for me, pretty, make yourself cum on my cock.” Their eyes kept meeting, watching one another as her fingers circled her overstimulated clit, drawing a few more moans from her slightly parted lips. Spencer knew that he’d never forget this moment, the way she looked so perfectly buried beneath him, made for him only.
“I’m close, Spence, need to cum, please.” Her words drew a “Fuck” from Spencer, knowing that he was just as close as she was. With a small “Cum” leaving Spencer, she let go, choking on her gasps with her eyes closed and her head thrown back. He kept on fucking her, high on the feeling of her, on the way she called his name, on the way she was his only.
Spencer let go a few seconds later, burying his face in the crook of (y/n)’s neck, silencing his sounds. For some moments they were engulfed by a thick blanket of silence, with only their moans echoing through the night, filling her room over and over again. Only as Spencer pulled away, throwing away the condom, did she dare to find her voice again.
“Spence,” the call of his name left him smiling, finding his way back to (y/n)’s bed. “Don’t leave just yet.”
“I’ll stay right here with you, promise, but I’ll be gone before your mom comes home, we can’t risk anything.”
Perhaps breaking rules had some perks to it after all. Perhaps breaking rules wasn’t as awful as people have always told Spencer.
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Wedding day
Pairing: Itoshi Sae x Isagi's sister!Reader
Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open
⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️
"Can you please calm down, sis? Everything will be fine." Yoichi said as he walked around the room after his sister. The older Isagi was panicking a little as she thought more and more about the whole wedding that was supposed to happen in an hour.
"You think?! Yoichi, what if I am not good enough? Sae is a literal football star and I am just-"
"The best sister and future wife. Exactly!" Yoichi quickly chimed in, annoyed that she had let the recent gossip on the internet get to her. While he did have sympathy for her, marrying a high profiled person lime Sae Itoshi wasn't nothing, he was also mad that she was doubting her own worth.
"Yoichi... You of all people know how the news are. They will nitpick on the most smallest things about me." (Y/n) sighed as she went over to sit on a chair in the room, Yoichi following close behind.
"What if they are right about me not being the one for Sae?"
"That's ridiculous! He loves you!" Yoichi argued again, but he knew it was useless. He wasn't Sae. The one whose opinion mattered the most right now.
"I don't know... What if I am just hindering him? There are so many better options than I am. Did you see all those models from Madrid who talk about him? What if I am not the one?"
(Y/n) held back a few sobs as Yoichi went to comfort her. He would be lying if he said he didn't expect the news to make such a huge deal out of the wedding. He did. But, seeing the state his sister was in just broke Yoichi. She didn't deserve all this stress now. Nor did Sae deserve to be doubted.
And, while Yoichi was comforting (Y/n), he didn't notice Rin peek into the room and catching some of the conversation the were having, and catching the distressed state (Y/n) was in.
'Shit!' The younger Itoshi thought as he slowly closed the door. He didn't expect to walk into all of that. While Sae was on cloud nine in his room, (Y/n) was over here distressed over some gossip.
'Wait? What gossip? Big brother never mentioned anything about that.' Rin wondered as he took his phone out to search for anything that remotely could mention either Sae or the wedding.
Meanwhile...
Sae was happily drinking the water Rin brought him earlier. The older Itoshi never expected to be excited over anything like a wedding. Well, he never saw himself marry anyone until he met (Y/n). The love of his life.
'Ahhh~ I am all excited for our future. I can't wait for us to finally tie the knot. Maybe even a few kids down the line, but that can wait for another few years. For now, I just want to enjoy my time alone with her.' Sae smiled softly and blushed, not hearing the footsteps approaching his room.
'My sweet (Y/n). She is so clumsy and cute. So adorable and always kind to me and others. I am so lucky to have found-'
"Big brother!"
Sae snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at the door as Rin walked in, looking oddly nervous.
"What's up with you? You are more nervous than I am." Sae joked but Rin ignored him as he kept on glancing between his phone and the older.
"Well..."
"Anyway, how is (Y/n) doing? How does she look? Bet as stunning as ever. She is so adorable."
Sae went on a ramble and Rin knew he had to cut it out now before he went into an endless loop with it.
"I... There is something you need to see, and I think you won't like it."
Sae stopped and raised an eyebrow at Rin.
"What do you mean?"
"It's about (Y/n). You didn't read any of the news some of the Spanish and Japanese media reported?"
"No. Why would I? They mostly say dumb stuff, anyway."
"It might be dumb, but the stuff nearly has (Y/n) crying right now."
Sae froze up for a moment and quickly took the phone away from Rin.
The younger Itoshi was used to seeing a lot of emotions on Sae, but anger, genuine anger was not one of them. The more Sae read through the articles Rin had found, the redder his face became and the more his eyebrows furrowed.
'I would pray for the reporters, but they deserve whatever happens next.' Rin thought as an eerie silence took over.
----
Once Yoichi had left the room to let his sister cool down, (Y/n) had finally realized how ridiculous it was that she was crying about these things. After all, if Sae really didn't want her, he wouldn't have asked to marry her. Right?
'I need to have more faith in him, and also be less sensitive.' She thought as she put down her phone, not noticing Sae walk inside.
"Why didn't you tell me about those articles?"
(Y/n) yelped , and turned around to see Sae walk into the room and towards her.
"Sae! You shouldn't see me before-"
"I don't care. Rin said you were distressed over what those journalists were saying. Why didn't you tell me about it?"
For the first time since they started their relationship, (Y/n) was left speechless by the anger Sae was radiating. Sure, she was used to him being angry over what Shidou would say at times, or even when he would lose a game. But, this was a different type of anger. It was more genuine than the previous ones.
"Why?" Sae's voice got softer as he grapped her hands into his, causing (Y/n) to turn red a little.
"I thought it was stupid to bother you with that. It's just me being sensitive-"
"It's not. The stuff those idiots said about you is disgusting, and I will put an end to it on my next interview." (Y/n) raised an eyebrow as Sae pulled her in closer.
"I thought you don't have one yet."
"I asked my manager the schedule me one after our honeymoon. As much as I hate going on these, this is a different circumstance."
"Oh? Thank you." (Y/n) said as she grew flustered, causing Sae to finally smile again and chuckle a little.
"Don't thank me for stuff like this. And, have a little more faith in me. I have my eyes only set on you."
"You are right, I an sorry. I know you do."
She smiled as the door opened again, revealing Sae and (Y/n)'s moms.
"Sar Itoshi! What did I say about seeing (Y/n) before the wedding?! And why did you make Rin guard the entrance?" Sae flinched at his mom's yelling as Rin could be heard apologizing to him from behind her. (Y/n) laughed a little as her mom tried to calm the other woman down, finding the whole situation equally amusing.
"Well, today is an eventful day." (Y/n) laughed, and Sae smiled at her.
'At least you calmed down.'
#bllk#blue lock anime#blue lock manga#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock scenarios#blue lock#isagi's sister#itoshi sae#blue lock sae#bllk sae#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae x y/n
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heey, i really loved your writing!! could you write a fluff where kageyama has a crush on seijouh's manager and doesn't know how to approach because of certain people (oikawa and kindaichi lol) ?
sorry if something is spelled wrong, I'm using the translator 😞❤️
lovee from Brazil!
໒⦂ 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄.
notes. first song that came to mind^ by taylor swift ( ofc ) but anyway.. hello anon! much love to you in brazil<3 i hope this drabble is too your liking, not very confident in my take on kageyama but we cope.
genre. fluff ( kinda cliché.. )
tobio kageyama x gn!reader.
tobio wasn’t exactly what many would call, in tune with their feelings. in fact, he sucked at expressing what he felt. so much, that any emotions could easily be compared to crashing waves.
feelings surface and take the skies to great heights, only come crashing down and return to the expanse of water.
though it wasn’t completely his fault. many factors prevented him from expressing himself in a normal and understandable way. this time around, it was two students from his old junior high that stood in the way — yuutaro kindaichi, and no surprise here — tooru oikawa.. whom he didn’t have the best relationship with.
and what exactly were they blocking him from? well, his feelings towards you.
once upon a time ago, you had also attended kitagawa daiichi and have been kageyama’s crush for as long as could remember. no one could compare to you no matter how many times he tried to disregard his feelings.
now that you attended aoba johsai, he feared he might never get to tell you of his sentiments towards you.
the one opportunity he had to speak with you was during the practice match early into the school year, and at the singular opportunity he received to approach you, when he didn’t just feel like a face in a crowd.. kageyama became completely tongue tied.
like a fool he choked on his words before spouting a pathetic excuse of a greeting once kindaichi had arrived with kunimi to pull you away from him.
now, he was met with a new opportunity.. one that featured no aoba johsai, no court and zero volleyball — just the two of you, and the beach.
the raven haired setter had come with his sister for the day, saying to him that he had needed sun and a break from his cherished sport. the odds of you showing up were zero, and yet, here he was.. proven wrong once more.
miwa, upon seeing you playing blissfully in the water with a friend you had brought down to the beach with you, had of course nagged her younger brother, urging that it was fate. how often was it that you showed up to the beach at the same time as your crush without that knowledge, anyway?
still, the first year had refused to approach you. how could he when you were having so much fun? you’d freeze up completely if you had to hear another failed attempt at a confession.
despite being so close to him, you felt so far away for him. out of his league, out of reach.. and it terrified him to take those few steps in approaching you. who was to say you wanted him anyway if he spoke up? for all he knew someone else was in the picture.
there was just too much at risk, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear your rejection.
“tobio.. you’re gonna lose her completely with the rate you’re going at.” his older sister sighed out, draining her bottle of coke. “nobody’s here to stop or make you feel judged in any way. and i can tell you right now,” she paused, pushing her sunglasses up a bit. “you’re not getting a better opportunity than this one.”
his lips pursed together as he stole another glance at you before looking at the emptied glass bottle in his hand. “it’s pointless trying, onee-san. she came here to enjoy herself and relax — not witness an embarrassment of a confession, if i even get one out.” the words would be completely jumbled, so much that it was sure to sound illiterate. like a baby trying to get their first word out.
he wondered if he could just get his feelings across without standing there to tell you. if he could do it that way, surely the confession would get across, and it won’t have cost him his dignity.
the elder eyed the younger for a moment before letting out a hum. “if this was volleyball, surely you’d have found a way around this by now.” she spoke up before laying back in her beach chair. “facing defeat has made you too comfortable, tobio.”
his lips parted to throw back a retort before, wanting to defend what little pride he had left, but his thoughts failed him when they couldn’t form into a sentence. miwa was right, painful as it was to admit. he gave up way too easily, all because of vulnerability.
his gaze lingered on the glass in his hand for a little while longer, the sea beyond twinkling in the distant horizon.
and just like that, an idea struck him. “nee-san, do you have a paper and pen i can borrow?”
“i’m telling you hana-chan, every conversation we’ve had just ends up in word vomit when he addresses me — considering yuutaro-kun and oikawa-senpai always intervene..” you sighed out to your friend from johzenji, pursing your lips together. “i feel bad each time we talk because of it.”
the brunette lowered her sunglasses to her face, letting out a hum. “volleyball boys do tend to hold onto their grudges, otherwise they’d be more like my team.. and they’re certainly a draining bunch.” it was like hosting a kid’s birthday party everyday when it came down to managing. “maybe you should try contacting him outside of volleyball?” she suggested, sipping on her smoothie.
your lips pursed together. “i probably should, he was a really good guy back in junior high.. despite what everyone says about his behavior with volleyball.” an awkward laugh seemed to have left your lips at the memories. “but i miss having him in my life, i just don’t know if he feels the same way..”
“what’s that?” the manager spoke up, sitting upright.
raising a brow, you turned to look at your friend. “i said i don’t know if he feels the same way..”
“no no.” misaki shook her head, pointing to the shore. “that, over there.” she corrected, lifting her shades.
you blinked at her finger, following its direction before narrowing your eyes to see what she had been referring to. the sun wasn’t quite helping your vision, in fact- whatever it was, the sun reflected it in a way that made you get up to go look for yourself.
if someone threw trash into the sea with garbage bins scattered all around the beach to maintain the cleanliness, you were seriously going to throw hands.
as you approached the shallow water, you kneeled to pick up the discarded bottle, wondering who on earth couldn’t just get off their ass and throw away a coke bottle.
but as you got a better look, you found a paper inside. at first glance it might have been a wrapper for a straw, however it wasn’t crumbled up like trash. rather — it was rolled up.
part of you thought you might have found the krabby patty secret formula somehow by its appearance. glass bottle and a note? a child would have surely thought similarly and opened it to see.
and like a kid.. curiosity got the better of you.
twisting off the cap, you flipped the bottle over to shake the letter out, eager to see what you might find. maybe even treasure — although that was farfetched.. even for you.
unraveling the message, however, you found none of the things you anticipated. in fact, you were met with very the last scenario that could have possibly crossed your mind.
dear y/n,
um.. i’m no good with words, but uh, you probably noticed that the last few times we saw each other. and i have no hope that whatever i say will be any better here.. especially with limited space, but i’m hoping that i can put my feelings into words a little easier without my pride getting in the way, awkward meetings, or our old schoolmates.
i like you, a lot.. and i have for a really long time now — since kitagawa daiichi. but i’ve just, had a hard time bringing those feelings across to you, so i never got the chance, especially when we go to different schools.
just feels like the universe doesn’t want me with you every time i try to speak up, so i decided to write them instead, hoping they get to you in this message.
if you don’t feel the same, i understand- i just hope we can remain friends, and that i haven’t made things even more awkward than they already were between us.
yours sincerely,
tobio kageyama.
shock painted your features as you read the name nine more times, scanned the contents of the letter before looking behind you.
tobio was somewhere on the beach and you hadn’t even seen him. he could have made an approach as well, but his fears, you guessed, of rejection.. told him not to.
finally, as your eyes were ready to give up the search, a sliver of blueberry caught your gaze. bingo.
“y/n?? where are you-”
“one minute, i think i saw someone i know!” you quickly intercepted hana, rising from your crouched position to run a few umbrellas down.
there was one with a duo underneath that resembled one another, and if your memory served you correctly — that was tobio and his older sister. miwa, if your memory hadn’t failed you.
the setter seemed to be his own world for a moment, filing his nails as part of his routine. even outside of the court, he still had to maintain his habits.
“tobio, i’m off to get us more drinks.” the female spoke up after looking up, smiling to herself. “be right back~”
kageyama let out a noise of agreement, only lifting his head a smidge to nod before pausing when he noticed a figure across from him — your figure.
either you just noticed him, or you had actually received the haphazard message in the bottle he had sent. and by the looks of it, it had been the latter.
“y/n..” he breathed out, lowering the filer in his hand as he watched you approach him.
the butterflies from every occasion he had encountered you this past year seemed to have returned to his stomach. was this what hinata felt before every match..?
“tobio-kun, it’s been awhile.” you smiled a little, letting out a sheepish laugh. “surprised to find you here, it almost feels like fate.. except no distractions this time for us to finally put everything out on the table.”
his heart seemed to accelerate with pace, the nerves increasing almost tenfold. rejection, he could just sense it coming. “um, well.. i already said how i feel, considering you got the letter.” he spoke up, eyeing the emptied beverage in your hands.
at his reasoning, you lifted the bottle before humming. “true, but i didn’t actually hear it from you. for all i know it could have been something of your sister’s doing.”
tobio, blushing profusely, nearly found himself barking back a response — a frequent habit of his. but as he eyed your expecting gaze, he faltered, lowering his head in defeat.
“how will i know if by saying it, i won’t just end up being made into a fool..?” he mumbled, pursing his lips together.
as you took a step closer, you gave him a knowing stare. “let me do you a better one, how are you so sure i’ll make you into a fool? you’re aware of your feelings.” you paused before pointing to yourself. “but you’re not aware of mine, it seems.”
his lips parted to retort before he froze up. “wait- your feelings? you..”
a smile returned to your lips as you sat beside him. “i like you, tobio-kun. are the feelings i read true?” you asked him, tilting your head curiously.
the color on his cheeks seemed to darken as he avoided your intent gaze for a moment before nodding. “they’re as i wrote them.. i really do like you, y/n — and i meant every word i said.. i was just scared you might’ve felt.. differently.”
“well,” you grabbed his hand, grinning brightly. “rest assured the feelings are mutual at long last!”
notes. sorry this is rushed and written in like 7382393939 different sittings.. hoping i was able to fulfill your request somewhat?? idk how in character he is.. but anyway, ty for the request anon and sorry for the very long wait ahaha.. please enjoy!
↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask
#— ; 🏹 ) haikyuu fics.#— ; 🏹 ) karasuno.#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#hq#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff#kageyama tobio#haikyuu tobio#kageyama#kageyama x reader#tobio x reader#karasuno#tobio kageyama#hq kageyama#kageyama fluff#tobio fluff#haikyuu kageyama#tobio kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio x reader#message in a bottle#taylor swift
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IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, I MEET MY FATHER WHEN HE IS A CHILD
〔 yeah this had no idea being as emotionally intense as it was, and for that, i will take a swig of this wine i’m drinking. a rhône red. this is based off the poem by nikita gill — and dedicated to all the girlies who relate. i love you, you are seen. 〕
˗ˏˋ i have a lot of requests in my inbox. i’ll take ages to do them because all of my time is stolen by the ceiling whom i stare at lovingly. it’s been really rough lately folks, i won’t lie.
⇀ warnings of brief abuse mentions | 1.7k
dad!simon masterlist | masterlist | taglist | request info
A father and his youngest daughter. Simon and his youngest daughter. A concept so simple but also complex. The last one to need dad, the last one to be embarrassed of him, the last one to scoff after consoling kisses to her temple, the last one to say bye to him and the last one to move out. Every of his efforts landed enough for surface satisfaction, though not deep enough to reject tears over TikTok slideshows. Father quotes, embedded between photos of old and new paintings, some of animals hugging and others of people.
What if you met your father when he was a child? It said, eleven words that joined together to create a swell of pity in her stomach. The clock turned three and darkness welcomed the girlhood routine of small houred upset.
In another universe,
I meet my father
when he is a child.
Her chest hurt. She hadn’t said bye to him, too busy on the phone with her friend. Undoubtedly another teenage drama, one that lasted only an hour at best when saying goodbye could’ve taken mere seconds and lasted forever. He stood in her door frame, camouflage clad and knocking to enter.
“Bye.” She’d mumbled, now touching her shoulder at the invisible feeling of his hand. A touch that she had learned meant love from her father, his calloused fingers padding twice before pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking out. He always closed the door behind him, a fatherhood instinct he had picked up from the years.
She viscerally pictured his youth. An image near scolded into her brain from the single photo she had seen. Stood without a smile, hand raised to bite on his nail. He was small against his older brother who looked just the same, a distant hand placed on Simon’s shoulder. It was something that she thought about often, about how even in his childhood she hadn’t seen one smile.
It was telling.
We play catch in the woods
and as we play he tells me
he isn’t allowed to cry
but sometimes the world
hurts him and he doesn’t know
what to do with all that pain.
One tear fell. She could hear the young voice, something so untainted but so far from happiness. A nonchalance sprouted from a young age, said with a shrug and a wide eyed stare — something like an animal in headlights. Her own childhood easily caught up to his, passing him by without a look back. The boy dropped his arm and watched her walk by, dark circles made home under his eyes and the bruises on his arms harbored, making their place known for years to come.
So I give him the shoulder he needs to cry on.
And he does. He does
Until the tears are done.
Her lip tasted salty, one or two more tears dropping for the thought of her father at her age. Still and silent, an observant soul with a foul temper. One tested more than he would’ve hoped or had energy for — if not his father, then school peers, finding joy in persistent teasing for his solemn stares and aggressive responses.
It was something he had carried to adulthood, to parenthood. Dropping the bag of trauma at the door and doing his best to avoid the handle, locking the door and throwing away the key to avoid stepping near or on anything delicate. Anything that could set him off, for anger and upset had been merged into one. Because it wasn’t right to be emotional, it wasn’t right to cry or show visible turmoil because that’s not what men were like was it? Nevermind a five, nine, twelve or sixteen year old boy.
Tears were the crime, anger was the fine. Even now, his rare despair came laced with anger and she couldn’t help in finding similarities to herself. She was her fathers’ daughter. Her smile, her eyes and her cry. Silent. Her ears went red the same way his did, her pitch raised when on the defence and her tears came at night when no one was around to see them.
Like now.
As she lay in bed, wiping tear-stained cheeks in a house bought from what was ultimately Simon’s life. Every deployment it seemed far fetched to assume he wouldn’t come back, though it was easy to forget the very real possibility. His texts kept her mind from wandering too far, a simple text of good morning or night. Something he knew was reassuring, because as much as she was his daughter he was also her father.
Afterwards, I buy him ice cream
and I listen to his laugh,
the glowing warm laugh
of a child who knows he is safe.
Isn’t it weird how you can feel it in your chest and stomach when something really hurts your feelings? A sinking feeling, one that you can’t seem to shake until your head decides to alleviate you of the weight. Her head spun at the thought, her father as a child and this continuous feeling — something that happened so often he almost found comfort in it.
Familiarity runs a person. It’s undeniable, anything merely familiar is a driving point for the average individual. Though it was easy to forget the definition was different for everyone. For some, it was being born into a burning house with spits of fire. The inclination to find a human equivalent of petrol just to start a riot, finding home in forever arguments and turbulence. Simon was scared that’s what he would create, a lineage of trauma and anger.
But he hadn’t. Not to the extent he was worried for anyway, instead, his girls were extended parts of the warmth he feared yet craved so deeply. The feeling of safety was a necessity growing up, it’s grounding — something he wasn’t a party of privilege to and it made his daughter sob.
It made her sob how his hugs were forever tainted by his childhood. A fear to hold both arms tight in favor of a one armed distancing method, one that was abolished when drunk and she received his longing. Constant drunken smiles, laughs, hugs and words of affirmation. Her phone was pulled from the bedside table, scrolling to find his contact and phoning him without a second thought.
It was even later where he was, but still the phone barely had a chance to ring once before he had answered. “Hi, you alright?” Voice hoarse from sleep, forever in concern.
She imagined him sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his eyes with a mighty frown across his brow. One that would soften as she began to cry down the line, “I feel bad I didn’t say bye to you.”
“You did.” He’d almost laugh instantly, his own attempt to lift her up from thousands of miles away. “Don’t cry over it.” A pause. “It’s late where you are, eh?” The creak of his bed sounded over the phone and she knew he was getting up to start his day rather than go back to sleep.
I wish someone could
have done that for him.
She hated it. The way he would throw emotion away by retreating to his room for days after coming home. It was something she hadn’t paid any attention to being younger, but the older she got, and the older he got, it became obvious. The undeniable anxiety in his shaky hands, all pent up worry from being so still on the field releasing. He couldn’t hold a mug for days, growing red faced out of frustration and subsequent embarrassment over the inability to do something so simple.
“Are you alright dad?” She’d ask, watching from the threshold as he clinked the ceramic against the counter — a crass sound filling the room and then his puff of anger. The tea spilled across the surface, his fist encouraging the flow with a thump against the marble. “I’ll get it.” Voice quiet, wary eyes catching his own.
His jaw tightened at her presence, pushing both hands up through his hair and down to rub his face. “No, it’s—” He cut himself off with a timely blink. “Sorry.” He motioned to the spillage, taking steps backward to lean against the surface behind him, instantly zoning out.
Sometimes he wanted to cry.
But it didn’t ever happen.
Been a kind, safe place
for the child he used to be.
Would it have made a difference?
Would it have made a difference?
The worst feeling in the world was that of neglect. The feeling of loving someone so hard, on your knees in front of them begging for them to love you back, and yet, only receiving a familiar feeling of disappointment running cold in your veins. Nothing but abuse and torment, the pining for warmth becoming redundant against each icy spit. It was worse coming from someone you looked up to. Anyone from a friend to a sister and a brother. But worst of all. A parent.
Because there was something devastating about the lack of parental love for a youth. Those key years are knocked for six by the physical blows and emotional hits. It shapes you. Molds each crevice in your brain to whatever badness it feels, manifesting in forms of wrathful anger or complete silence, a primal human instinct to protect yourself.
Not that it ever worked.
It never does.
Instead, it works in tandem with the abuser. Silence aiding an escalation of the inevitable. But one or two hits isn’t so bad, right? The purpling of your cheekbones feels like home and it’s not something you can ever leave.
Simon recognised that from a young age.
And if the tears hadn’t been beaten out of him and he was able, he would’ve cried. Ten years old, yet his tears had already run out.
But would it have made a difference?
as always, comments are reblogs are highly highly appreciated! if no one pats me on the head every now and then, i’ll fall down a hole.
simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta
i cant tag more than 50 people, so will tag in comments!
i tag x reader as it’s your family with him, your daughter.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#cod mw fanfiction#ghost mw2#simon riley x reader#cod mw2 x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley headcanons#simon riley fanfic#simon riley x female reader#simon ghost riley headcanons#ghost cod#ghost call of duty
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Phases
Phase One: Emotion Sickness
LMH, HJS
Masterlist, Story Masterlist
wc: 8.7k
Story Synopsis: Whoever said patience is a virtue have never met Jisung and Minho.
warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, poly!minsung (jisung chapter focus), dom!jisung x brat!reader, mxm, overcome angst, alcohol consumption, unprotected but clean piv, orgasm denial, a nice lil slap, lots of teasing and back talk, marking, talk of training reader, cream pie, stupid asses in love
Phase One ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟPhase Two
Being best friends with Jisung is like living in a sitcom every day of your life. Everything about him is comical and endearing and you love every bit of him and his huge personality. You’d been friends with him for so long that when he sat you down, worried look on his face, and told you he liked both boys and girls you raised an eyebrow at him, “am I supposed to act surprised?”
“You’re not?” His expression changed from worry to confusion.
“As if we’re not a pair of bisexual assholes.”
“Wait, you like girls too?!”
“How have you survived this long?” You stood from your seat and pressed a mockingly sweet kiss to the top of his head, pulling him into a hug.
Nothing in your friendship had changed other than things were a lot more open between you and Jisung. The two of you shared love interests and swapped between them like clothes back and forth, generally no relationship going past anything other than a second date and maybe taking them home. You both even went to testing centers together to make sure neither of you contracted any of the nasty. Definitely fun, reckless things kids in college did. That was, until Jisung met Minho in your senior year.
Minho was a few years older than you both, had a permanent job and lived on his own. He was his own person that somehow wiggled his way into your duo to become a trio. You weren’t mad at it, by any means, Minho was one of the most attractive, intriguing, successful men you’d ever seen. For that reason, you questioned why he wanted to be friends with Jisung, and even more, friends with you.
It became evident early on that he wasn’t leaving either of you alone any time soon and you became used to his presence, eventually coming to the point where you wanted to be around him just as much as you did Jisung. The three of you were the pinnacle of friend groups. So bound at the hip, none of you ever realized how strange it looked on the outside.
But Jisung and Minho started spending more time together, without you. Sure it sucked and yeah, you were hurt that they never bothered to invite you, but Minho was always Jisung’s friend before he was yours. You always just thought the three of you were a package deal, not accessories to be mixed and matched.
They made up for it in time after you expressed your feelings and were gracious not to make it a bigger deal than you wanted it to be. There weren’t even any tears shed… by Minho. You and Jisung, on the other hand, were absolute jokes of a mess, faces red, covered in tears and snot running down your noses, weeping into each other’s arms because you’re both the most dramatic people any of you know. When you pulled Minho into the hug, squishing Jisung between your bodies, he thought he might’ve shed a tear with how tightly you held him. But as the two of you fell apart, Minho wouldn’t bring himself to unravel out of sheer need to protect his only two constants. So he wrapped himself around you and Jisung, blanketing you both until your breaths and heartbeats returned to normal.
“C’mon Min, it’s just a little get together. You don’t even need to bring anything other than your pretty, pretty face,” you smiled up at the brunette who was flowing about the kitchen while you sat on the counter.
“You’re in my way,” he murmured and reached around your body to grab whatever he needed.
“You’re avoiding the subject.”
“Not avoiding. Just ignoring.”
“Rude.”
Just as you spoke, the sound of the front door rang through the apartment, “who’s rude?” Jisung sounded. He kicked his shoes off and joined you and Minho, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island.
“Your boyfriend. He doesn’t wanna go to Changbin’s party tomorrow.” Neither of the two reacted at the labeled nickname. They were used to you making jokes, even turning it around and saying they were your boyfriends, too.
Minho peaked his head out from around the refrigerator door to look at you, “you said it was a ‘little get together.’”
“Potatoe, potato.”
“Why don’t you wanna go to Changbin hyung’s thing? Didn’t you agree to give him some cookbooks as a housewarming gift or something?” Jisung snatched a crouton from the salad bowl Minho was preparing, earning him a sharp look from the older.
“I just don’t feel like socializing.” Minho groaned into the fridge, closing the door around his head, hiding.
Jisung stood and wrapped his arms around Minho to playfully shake him back and forth, “pleeease, hyung?”
“Pleeease, Min?” You copied Jisung’s tone, “it’ll be so much fun. We can drink and eat good food and–”
“Fine,” he pulled his head out of the fridge and pushed Jisung away, “but we’re leaving by 10.”
None of you left by 10, and the housewarming party was not little. It was like you were back in college with how many people you didn’t know crammed into one room. And like most college parties, everyone was wasted beyond belief, even Changbin who was meant to be hosting. You, Minho, and Jisung tried greeting him only to be met by his overly affectionate persona that showed face when he was drunk. He had slung his arm over your shoulder and slurred incoherent sentences in your ear that made you laugh.
Minho didn’t like that, he shoved Changbin off of you and let him fall to the couch to let someone else deal with.
As the three of you made your rounds to greet everyone that was sober enough to speak to, you came to the conclusion that you couldn’t let your friends be shit faced without any supervision. You took it upon yourself to watch over them, keep their face out of toilet bowls so they don’t drown and put a pillow under their heads when they finally passed out. Chan was sort of helping, though only for a little because Jisung convinced him to take a few more shots knowing how much of a lightweight he is, and Chan was soon down for the count as well and taking up space on the hallway floor. Felix and Hyunjin were nowhere to be found, you could only guess they either left early or occupied one of the bathrooms to share the toilet. Seungmin refused to let you help him make it to the couch, Minho had to throw him over his shoulder to cooperate, and Jeongin followed you like a lost puppy until you coerced him into Changbin’s bed beside him where they both fell asleep.
You were too absorbed in getting all the other strangers out of the house and making sure your friends didn’t die that you didn’t realize it had probably been hours since you’d spoken to Minho or Jisung. Even if you arrived with and planned to leave with them, you suddenly felt lonely.
Turning down the music and flicking on the lights, you picked up whatever trash you could to get ahead of cleaning when you heard voices coming from the kitchen. Surely, it was your best friends because they would never leave you behind. Without thinking, you headed for the garbage can in the kitchen and hoped to talk Minho into forgiving you for keeping them out so late. The voices fell silent, as did your footsteps when you tiptoed over a passed out Chan to step into the room. You laughed at his sleeping form, using his jacket as a blanket and one of the couch’s throw pillows tucked beneath his head.
Just as you entered the kitchen’s doorway, your eyes fell upon what was both the most confusing and entrancing of scenes. Pinned between the countertop and Minho’s body was Jisung with his fingers carding through the brunette’s hair, tugging him closer while their lips moved in together in a delicate dance. The sound of their mouths colliding and lungs striving for air was the only thing you could hear, ringing in your ears like a siren song. Minho’s hands snaked around the younger’s waist and made him look small in his grasp. You particularly watched the way neither of them seemed to be in a hurry and how gently they held one another. Your hand moved on its own, coming up to your mouth to touch your lips like they were longing for the same warmth. The movement made the plastic red cups in your hold drop to the floor with a loud clatter, scaring you into dropping everything else, too.
The two boys pulled away from each other in the blink of an eye, immediately realizing that it was you. Their stares were wide and frantic and ears tinted red. Jisung scratched at the back of his neck and readjusted his shirt, Minho ran his fingers through his hair, and both their lips plump, glossy, kiss bitten. They looked between each other and back at you, then each other again before taking a step forward in unison towards you. You took a step back, still unsure of what to do. Neither of them pressed again, just watching your movements.
“I didn’t mean to intrude…” you laughed out of nervousness and embarrassment, moreso the latter hoping they couldn’t see the pink that covered your cheeks. “I’m… I’m gonna go home.”
“We’ll come with you,” Jisung was quick to speak, holding his hand out. You backed away another step, an anxious chuckle leaving you.
“That’s okay. I– I’m gonna sleep at my own place tonight.” Jisung backed down, knowing that the sympathetic smile on your face was enough to show you weren’t mad or upset, just needing space.
However, Minho looked like a lost puppy that was just kicked to the ground, more than hurt. The sheen that covered his eyes were painful to look at, as though you’d been the one to hurt him. As far as that was from the truth, you still had to blink a few overwhelmed tears away while simultaneously feigning a smile so hard your cheeks hurt. His hands were less antsy, clutching one over his chest. As you looked between them, you swiped the stray moisture from your eyes and gave them a thumbs up, “I’ll see you guys… uh… soon… Bye.”
With that, you left, hoping the night air would make the fog in your brain dissipate.
Out of all the things you expected the night to bring, seeing your two best friends kissing definitely wasn’t one of them. By no means were you angry, not at them, at least. Confused, sure, but who wouldn’t be? More than anything, you were curious. They seemed so comfortable with each other, as though they’d been doing it for years.
If you hadn’t alarmed them, what would have happened next? If you hadn’t run away, what would they have said? If you hadn’t reacted so badly, would you be asleep next to them and not in your own bed alone?
As you laid facing the ceiling, your mind wandered back to the night before. The sounds of their wet lips smothering one another, the grip of Jisungs fingers pulling Minho’s hair so sweetly and Minho caressing Jisung like he was fine china. You wondered when the hell that had happened, when they happened. There wasn’t a day since you had expressed feeling left out that they had neglected inviting you, so how the fuck did you miss all the signs? And why was it bothering you that you did? You should be beyond the moon that your two most precious people in the world are seeing each other, because they’re perfect. They’re perfect together and you couldn’t have picked anyone better to make them happy. Right?
Right. They’re carbon copies in different fonts, strangely perfect and perfectly strange. Why does your chest feel so tight? Since when did your heart beat in your stomach? There’s no way you could be jealous, or else you’d be an even shittier person than you thought you already were.
In the two days you had been ignoring their texts and phone calls– mostly Jisungs’s– you ran through every possible explanation your smooth brain could come up with. There was that they were drunk and it was a spur of the moment thing. Though, that wouldn’t explain either of their reactions, if that was the case then they would’ve laughed it off. You also theorized that maybe Jisung had food on his face, it was a common enough occurrence that you couldn’t rule it out entirely. Yeah, that’s the one. Minho was helping him because Jisung would rather aimlessly lick his tongue around his lips than use a napkin, and it just so happened that they—
Knock, knock, knock.
You weren’t expecting anyone, and deliveries can never make it up the six flights of stairs to get to your front door. Haphazardly, you tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. Jisung was bouncing up and down in his spot, ashy blonde hair messy like he’d just wrestled with a bear. His head snapped straight up to the dark side of the peephole, “Y/N, c’mon. I heard you walk up to the door.”
“Fuck,” you curse to yourself before letting him in.
Jisung pushed his way through before you even had the opportunity to open the door all the way, kicking off his house slippers and pacing around your living room. Slowly shutting it behind you, you leaned your back against the door and clutched onto your elbows. He waved his hands around like he was having an internal battle with himself. In fact, Jisung looked like he’d been fighting that battle for the past two days. He was still dressed in his house shorts and a ratty old shirt you remember him buying years ago, there was a hole in his sock where his big toe was and it made you smile small at his never ending hardheadedness even after both you and Minho told him to throw the pair away.
“Ji,” you called, voice cracking slightly. He stopped his stride and eyes shot teary daggers into your soul. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”
“B– but I need to! Things are so much more complicated than it looked when you found us and you deserve answers because you’ve never once kept anything from us and–”
You took a few strong steps forward to catch him by the shoulders and came face to face. He was almost shaking in your hold, letting your hands warm the cold skin of his neck to sooth him. Jisung melted into your touch and you could feel him already beginning to calm, though his lip still trembled, so much he wanted to say but had no idea how to say it. So you spoke first, “you two are my most favorite people in the entire world. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“That’s the problem,” Jisung took your hands and guided them to his cheeks, keeping you from moving. He took a closer step into you, “you’re our favorite person. And the way you looked at us…” The way he referred to the pair of them made you feel just that much more sick in your gut. “I’d rather die than have you look at me like that again.” His hands held yours tighter, squishing your palms to his cheeks to the point of his lips puckering.
You didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to calm down enough so that he could articulate himself the way he wanted. When he did, Jisung sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need to tell you something but you need to promise me you won’t run.”
“You know I have a 14 minute walking mile time.” He laughed breathily and guided you both to sit on the floor, couch behind your backs with your hands still glued to his cheeks. “You can tell me anything.”
“Min wanted to wait, but I can’t stand not talking to you for so long–”
“It’s been two days.”
“Exactly. And I’m going crazy because I love you so much…” Jisung gritted his teeth as he said it, you filled the tense silence by whispering, “I love you, too.”
“No, no… Y/N. I love you,” his tone went higher the more he spoke, scared of the blank, expressionless look on your face. Your silence made him keep talking, “I’m in love with you and I’m in love with Minho and he’s in love with you, too. We’re in love with you and I can’t take another second without you knowing that.”
Either you felt everything at once or you felt nothing at all, though you doubted the latter was the issue. The problem was that you didn’t know what it was you were feeling, the two days of voluntary solitude wasn’t enough for you to understand the panging in your chest and how your heart was about to fall out of your ass or the way you wanted to jump Jisung’s bones and hug him until you molecularly phased into his body. All that, and all you could say was, “I love you, too,” again.
It seems he had the same thoughts you did because Jisung crashed his body into yours and sent you slamming into the floor with him keeping you in a bone crushing embrace. His head stayed buried in your neck and hand tangled in your hair, the way you remember him doing to Minho. The feeling of him pulling you in closer by the roots had you wrapping your legs around his torso so the two of you were shaped around one another like a vine. How long you stayed like this, you didn’t know, just that he left supple kisses along the junction of your shoulder that made your head spin with adoration.
More than likely it was hours later that the two of you made your way into your bed with a laughable amount of snacks and coffee to keep you awake for another two days, snuggled beneath the covers. This was normal, in bed with him doing nothing but talking and sharing your thoughts was what you and Jisung did on a regular basis. Except now, he was on his side, head propped in his palm and looking at you like you held the world in your hands. Little to your knowledge, he always looked at you like that. It was only at this moment did you realize.
“When did you and Min… get together?” Your voice was soft, listening intently.
“The same time you got mad at us for leaving you out. That wasn’t intentional and I already knew how I felt about you. I was just… caught up in the moment for a little? God, I had never felt so shitty in my life, making you cry like that.” Jisung lifted his hand to thumb at your cheek as you smiled into his touch.
“Yeah, I didn’t really appreciate that either,” you joked. “So… you’ve known you liked me–”
“Love you,” he corrected.
“Loved me,” Jisung nodded in approval. “And you told Min before you told me?”
“I was scared! You don’t have the best track record with confrontation, babe.” You both giggled at the recall of the previous night, your head falling against his chest to hide the tinge of pink on your cheeks. His free hand held your cheek to his pec and soothingly massaged your scalp until you both relaxed.
It was silent again for a little as you readjusted to lay completely in his arms, engulfed in his scent and body heat. As you laid there, your mind went through all of the times where the three of you were together, you scanned the background of your memories for all the weird stares you’d get from passersby or comments your friends made, even the times where they’d call themselves your boyfriends and how easily it rolled off their tongues.
“Okay.”
Jisung looked down at you, humming with confusion, “okay?”
“Break it down for me.” You drew meaningless shapes into his skin through his shirt, feeling his heartbeat pick up just a little. “I wanna know how this is… all gonna work.”
“Oh! O– okay, well,” Jisung took in a large breath before reaching for your fidgeting hand and intertwining your fingers. “We’ll go slow, step by step, take as much time as you need to feel comfortable. Phase one, we do everything we already do just with a few… more than friendly perks.”
You lingered on the way your hand fit in his so nicely, skin soft and his pretty fingers decorated with rings. “What about Minho? You said he didn’t want you to tell me yet.”
Jisung sighed at the mention of the older. “We let him bring it up at his own pace. He scares away like a cat, y’know.”
The longer Jisung played with your hand, the longer you yearned to touch him, more of him. Mentioning Minho made you remember the tight grip he had in the brunette’s hair, how sweet he sounded when kissing him. You bit your lip at the thought and was suddenly raging with confidence. “So,” you sat up and looked at him, now towering over his figure. “If I wanted to kiss you, would I have to wait to do it infront of him?”
“Y– you wanna kiss me?” Jisung’s eyes widened, pads of his fingers coming up to press against his lips.
Taking his hand away, you guided it to your neck the way he did to you earlier. “Since we’re being honest, I can’t stop thinking about that night, you and him.” His grip tightened just a little as your hand splayed over his chest and slowly rose up. “Can I? Kiss you?”
“Oh my god, I’ve been waiting for you to as–”
Jisung pulled you into him before he could finish his thought, slotting against you with ambition. He felt just as you imagined him, eager but mindful in how to hold you, letting you set the tone with just closed mouth smooches as the sounds of your lips smacking bounced off the bedroom walls. Both his hands found their way into your hair and pulled you impossibly closer until your body fell onto him entirely. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, kissing your best friend until you were both breathless and needy, knowing better than to do anything more.
But oh, how you wanted to. You wanted to kiss him everywhere, make him cower into the sheets and make him feel how much you loved him. There was just too much right now, too much to be figured out. A night of desire wasn’t worth a lifetime of friendship.
So as you pulled away, reluctant Jisung whining and chasing after you for more, you let your forehead rest against his and let out a satisfied laugh. “Slow,” you whispered, letting him pepper kisses to your cheeks.
“Can’t we just jump to phase three?” He breathed against your skin.
“What’s phase three?”
Jisung’s lips made their way down your neck, his tongue leaving wet streaks the further he descended. “You, me, Min, a big ass bed covered in rose petals and candle light. Maybe a kick ass playlist to set the mood–”
The sound of your phone ringing made the both of you jump as if you were being caught doing something illegal. You broke into another fit of giggles when you found out it was Minho calling you. “Hey, pretty boy,” you answer him with a grin, still looking down at Jisung who stared up at you fondly.
“Jesus, Y/N. Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering? Are you home? I– I’ve tried calling you for days–”
“Two days, Min.”
“Days. It’s been days.” Jisung could hear his voice booming through the phone, laughing and shrugging at how it’s the same thing he’d told you.
“I’m okay.” You eased his worries with two simple words, hearing him sigh on the other end of the call.
“You’re okay,” Minho repeated, relieved.
There was a pause in his breathing, probably unsure of what to say as he walked on eggshells. You knew this about him, he needed careful approaching, as Minho doesn’t like what he doesn’t already know. “I’m coming over tomorrow,” you stated.
“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”
Chuckling lightly, you let Jisung bring your fingertips to his lips and press a kiss to them. As you smiled at the man beneath you, you spoke into the phone, “love you.”
“Whatever… Love you, too.”
“Love you, too!” Jisung yelled into the speaker before you hung up, hearing Minho let out a strangled call of the other boy’s full name and the line went dead.
Jisung immediately took your phone and tossed it aside so he could kiss you again. And again, and again, and again, until both your lips were raw and bruised and chapped.
He slept over and the two of you went over to Minho’s the next afternoon. You were dizzy with how quickly things were changing in your trio’s dynamic, but chose to embrace it rather than question it. Jisung assured you that everything will move as you chose, there was no pressure to do anything you didn’t want to— except talking to Minho. That was something the two men previously agreed that that was Minho’s conversation to have with you. It made you nervous, but if you know him like you think you do, it shouldn’t be anything to worry about.
Nothing was out of any sorts. The topic of the housewarming party was nowhere in sight as you ate lunch, stayed for dinner and even dessert, deciding to call it a night a bit later.
Days went by like that. In front of Minho, everything was the same. But when you and Jisung were alone, things began to get more and more heated. Hands roamed further, kisses became more desperate, you had to force yourself off his lap out of guilt that Minho didn’t know what was happening.
“Baby, you think I wouldn’t tell him? He knows,” Jisung explained after what was probably the fourth or fifth time that week you’ve stopped before you could even get started.
“He knows?! For how long?!” You fully slammed on his crotch, Jisung wincing in pain and accidentally knocking his head back against his headboard. Crossing your arms over your chest, you could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the heavy contact.
“For a few days— can you not sit—“
You intentionally sat deeper, crushing him. “When exactly did you tell him?”
“Three days ago— Y/N, my balls, please—“
“We could’ve had sex three days ago without me feeling like a guilty piece of shit?!”
“There’ll be no dick to have sex with if you don’t get up!” You lifted your hips with a roll of your eyes, Jisung sighing with relief as the pressure alleviated. “I briefly mentioned it in passing that you were a little weary about moving forward without talking to him.”
“Oh… Well, what did he say?”
“That he’s getting there. He’s just really embarrassed,” he caught your hands fidgeting again, holding them tightly in his own before guiding your palms against his chest.
“Embarrassed? About what?”
“How you found out. Let him tell you the details, I think it’s better that way.” You nodded, exhaling deeply as your heart sank a little that Minho was too embarrassed about the whole thing to even speak to you.
“Is he… embarrassed of me?” The sting of hot tears wanted to swell in your waterline, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that you caused him to feel such a way. You know Minho, you know Jisung, and you know that there has never been a time where you didn’t think you couldn’t go to them for anything. You were sure that if you killed someone, they’d get rid of the body to keep you out of jail. Or better yet, help you plan the murder so none of you were even considered suspects.
Jisung sat up and wrapped his arms around your torso to bring you in for a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. “Baby, baby, no. That’s not it at all!” Your small sniffle had him squeezing you tighter, “I can’t explain it to you the way that he can, but just know we love you. And we want to be with you. You know how weird his mind works. He’ll talk to you about it soon.”
Nodding in agreement, taking Jisung’s words to heart and letting your mind drift away from the brunette and back to the ashy blonde beneath you.
Pulling away from your hiding spot, the aching between your legs was still painfully present, as was the straining in his pants. Pushing his hair from his face while your other hand thumbed at his mouth, your eyebrows raised, “I’m guessing you’re not big on cock stepping?”
Laughing, falling back and taking you with him, Jisung’s hands slipped just under the hem of your shirt to feel your warm skin. “Not particularly. I’d like to have kids someday.”
You smiled as he kissed you, a simple peck that multiplied down his neck and across his exposed collar bones. He liked that area, you noted in the way his hips kicked up into yours and the grip around your waist grew stronger. His hands slipped higher until you decided to discard the shirt entirely, your bra clad cleavage proudly in his face. It wasn’t anything special, but Jisung’s eyes blew wide as though your covered breasts were the key to his life’s questions.
“How can you go from crying about our boyfriend to having your tits in my face? Like a fucking angel,” he ogled your chest unabashedly.
“I’m not even naked yet,” you giggled, blushing.
“Oh god, you’re right.” Jisung dragged his hands down his face while letting his eyes roll back and dramatically whimpering.
Leaning down to kiss him, you shot back up just as quickly, “our boyfriend?”
“Your boyfriend, my boyfriend. The broody, moody guy that cooks for us sometimes and smells really good—”
“Han Jisung,” you interrupted him once more. “Ask me the question.”
“Y’know, I had a whole speech prepared.”
“Did you, now?”
“I was waiting for the right time to say it.”
“Mhm.”
“I was! I practiced it in the bathroom mirror and I gotta say, I’d definitely date me.” Nodding your head some more, you tapped your forefinger against his cheek. “Fine, fine. Cliff notes version,” your approving hum made Jisung clear his throat. “Please do me the honor of allowing me to be your one of two boyfriends.”
“Only because you said please.”
You were flipped onto your back in the split second it took to kiss him again, a squeal leaving your lips when your head hit the pillows. The room was filled with giggles from you and Jisung, hands roaming where they never had before but feeling as though they should’ve been the whole time. He never stayed away for too long, when he took his hands away to strip off his shirt, Jisung grinded his hips deeply into you, fabric on fabric good but not nearly enough.
You’d seen him shirtless more than enough times and each time you’d wanted to run your tongue through the lines of his abs. How badly you wanted to do that now as Jisung towered over you, looking down at your body, his to devour. His eyes were dark, tiniest of glimmers when he smiled deviously. Thumb pressing against your lips, Jisung tilted his head and pouted, “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, baby.
“If it gets too much for you, call yellow, we’ll slow down. Say red and we’ll stop completely. Okay?” You nodded, understanding what you were getting into with him. There have been enough vague yet pinpoint detailed stories shared, making you all the more excited to finally experience it for yourself.
He didn’t need to force his digit past your lips, you let him in without a fight, immediately sucking and teasing him with your tongue. Jisung tsked at your eagerness, “what happened to going slow, hm?”
Teasing. He was teasing you, using your words against you because Jisung knew that’s where his strength lied. He knew he could say the nastiest of things and get away with it, he did it before everything happened and now he could say it with all intents and purposes. Your hips rutted up from under him, but Jisung’s body weight kept you pinned to the mattress. The more you squirmed the bigger he smiled. His chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths was taunting you, your free hand reaching up to trace your nails down his skin from his pec down to the hem of his pants. Jisung shivered at the feeling and you had the honor of witnessing his cock twitching.
Plucking his thumb away, Jisung smeared your saliva over your lips and cheek until his fingers tangled in your hair again, this time yanking you somehow even further against the pillows. Your wince was followed by a menacing giggle, provoking him into gripping the roots tighter. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, babe.”
“You’re so cute when you try to be scary,” you pouted up at him mockingly, laugh turning into a moan when he tugged your head up and leaned over to be centimeters away from each other.
“Is being intimidating only Min’s thing? You’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Then teach me. How scared should I be of you, baby?”
Jisung huffed and threw you back down, climbing off your body entirely and stepping to the side of the bed. You laid on your side, looking up at him as his eyes raked up and down your figure, bra strap slipping off your shoulder and house shorts riding up to just barely show the outline of your aching cunt. Jisung’s mouth watered as you waited for his response, your face feigning innocence while your body was screaming for his touch.
His hand lingered over the button of his pants for a second before crouching to your eye level. “You want the beginner lesson?”
“Advanced.” Jisung pecked your lips once more before standing tall again, finally undoing his pants and relieving the pressure. His bulge fell over the zipper, covered only by his boxers and even those seemed too tight. You bit your lip, reaching out for him. Jisung slapped your hand away and scrunched his eyebrows together, “who gave you permission?”
“I did,” you answered immediately.
“You’re not the boss, baby. Not right now. I don’t have the patience to deal with your brattiness, you’ve kept me waiting for too long already.” He took his pants off and boxers along with it, length springing free in your face.
“Why’s that? You only let Min talk shit to you?”
“Nah, you’ll see. I’ve trained him real good, and I’m gonna do the same with you.”
Jisung manhandled you to hang your head over the edge of the bed, looking at him upside down. The way he threw you around like a ragdoll was painfully arousing, you knew he worked out, but not just how strong he was. “Oh, so you can use those muscles. Who knew?”
“You’re still making jokes? Aren’t you the one on your back?”
“Aren't you the one on a leash?”
“And who’s holding the lead? You?” Jisung scoffed, taking his cock in hand and slowly stroking. It wasn’t until you saw it in his grasp did you realize the extent of his size, you turned to get a better look but was shoved back into position instantly. “No, of course you aren’t. You’re too cock hungry to even control yourself. What ever made that pretty head think it could control me?”
Holding you down by the shoulder, your mouth opened and tongue fell out as Jisung gave a few soft slaps to your cheek with his dick. As degrading as it was, nothing was more humiliating than the fact that you couldn’t stop your legs from pressing together and your hands white knuckling the sheets to stop from shoving them down your pants. He chuckled and his own jaw went slack. “See? Just a slutty little puppy. Wanting to suck on anything and everything.”
You whined a little when he forced your mouth closed with his free hand and held you steady, smearing his precum covered tip around your lips. “Aw, you sound so cute. Cute pup.”
Hips kicking higher, you let them fall back down roughly and drawing his attention elsewhere. Jisung let your jaw go to shove his cock down your throat unexpectedly, making you gag and tears immediately flood. He didn’t give you room to even think, his balls pressing against your nose and leaning over your body to bury himself deeper. Just when you thought you were going to tap out, Jisung pulled away and had you gasping for air.
“Where’d you learn to take cock so well, pup? Mind if I help myself?” He didn’t wait for you to reply, propping himself up on either side of your torso and blindly entering your mouth again. Your throat constricted around it for a few seconds, letting himself succumb to the warm, wet walls. The muffled whimper made goosebumps rise along Jisung’s skin and pull out to the tip. You swirl your tongue around and around, suckling him like a lollipop and attempting to keep your hands to yourself. As if not touching yourself was torture enough, he took a handful of the front of your shorts and pulled, center seam rubbing against your clit easily with how wet you were.
“Didn’t think you’d give in so easily,” he laughed darkly and practically holding your lower half in the air by your shorts, frantically searching for friction. “You were even easier to tame than Min, just had to tell him how cute he was and he was a goner. You? All you want is a good cock to pacify you, hm? Who woulda thought.”
The mumble of your attempted response was intelligible until he pulled away to let his dick fall from your mouth, “what was that, pup?”
“Need your cock,” you breathed heavily, finally able to now that your mouth was free.
“Yeah you fucking do,” Jisung dropped your lower half and stuck his hand down the front of your shorts, fingers swiping at youre core and spreading your arousal beneath the fabric. “Gonna make you crave me all the fucking time.”
Finally being touched had your jaw hanging open again, but he didn’t seem to notice, entranced by the lewd sound of your wetness. He wasn’t rough but not gentle either, massaging the perfect amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves and made you rub your hips into his palm. You’ve been worked up for days, desperate to come, desperate enough to grab his hand and still him, using him to your pleasure without care. Jisung let you for the time being, stuck in a trance watching the way you moved. How small your hand looked wrapped around his wrist, it’d look even prettier around his–
“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fu–”
Jisung stole himself away just before you could finish, killing the impending high you so deeply wanted.
“No, no! Fucking hell, why?!” You whined loudly, legs spasming from denial.
He didn't answer you, not losing any adrenaline and still able to powerfully maneuver you away from the edge of the bed, strip away your remaining clothing, and have you sitting on top of him again in a moment’s notice. Jisung sat with his back against the headboard, though low enough that your head leveled higher than his, staring down at his sweaty, smug face.
“Fucking pillow princess,” you murmured out of spite, not thinking anything of it as you reached for his cock.
Grabbing your hand tightly, “the fuck did you call me, pup?” Jisung tilted his head back and dominatingly peered at you through sharp eyes, clearly not playing.
“Pillow. Princess.” You struggled to get out of his grasp. The denied orgasm had pissed you off, initially ready to let him have his way until he stripped you of the one thing he knew you’d been pining for. This was retaliation.
The light slap across your cheek sent you into a monetary daze, eyes going wide at the sting. Jisung was already looking at you when you peered down at him, clear in the way his chin tipped up at you that you had lost that battle.
“Don’t bite the hand that fucking feeds you, pup. Be my good fucking girl and ride.” Not like you were beaten into submission, moreso talked into it, you whimpered and lip involuntarily pouted. Jisung’s handle on your wrist loosened and allowed you to take his dick in hand, pressing the tip to your entrance. As a last desperate act, you circled it around the rim, gathering your essence and teasing the both of you. “Last warning,” he threatened, not bothering to look at you as the sight of him about to enter you was distracting enough.
When you sank down, slow, inch by inch, you melted into one another as you came to the hilt, shivering once your clit made contact with the warm skin of his pelvis. Jisung’s shoulders relaxed, his hands rubbing soothingly over the tops of your thighs and up your love handles. The two of you stayed like this for a while, his domineering act washing away a little as your lip continued to tremble. He smirked, cupping your cheek, “awe, too much for you, pup?”
His counterfeit sympathy was obvious, but you’d take what you could get, nuzzling into his palm and nails digging into his abdomen. Jisung nodded along with you, jutting his lower lip out while also reading your face for any sign of discomfort. He knew you had limits, just testing where they were knowing fully well you could stop if you wanted.
Though, you shook your head, no, brows scrunching together and eyes blinking away pleasureful tears. You were already breathless and overwhelmed, leaving red crescents into Jisung’s skin wherever you laid your claws, but he seemed to like the pain. He pushed your hands deeper into him and looked straight into your eyes, “ride.”
Experimentally, you leaned forward and lifted your hips, sinking back down almost uncoordinatedly with how excited and overwhelmed you were. Jisung could feel your thighs shaking as you sat down fully on him, he placed his hands on your love handles and gave an encouraging squeeze.
Raising again, you slammed down harder, repeating the action until you found a steady rhythm. Filling and emptying, again and again, you were dizzy with how good it felt. Heat flushed your body as you lost yourself in working against him, genuinely paying no mind to the man blushing beneath you. Jisung gazed at you in awe, adoration as you enjoyed yourself. He didn’t even feel the need to help you anymore, putting his hands behind his head and took in the sight of your tits bouncing with each motion. The longer you kept your pace, your knees and thighs burned and muscles began to grow tight. You changed the position slightly, propping one leg up and using that leverage to continue. But even that became tiresome, finding yourself growing much too emotionally saturated to bring yourself to orgasm.
Jisung could feel this, your frustration, and he felt somewhat bad that he hadn’t given you the first high. Only somewhat. Seeing you work yourself into a whining, moaning mess made him smile to himself and sit up to press his chest to yours. Jisung peppered kisses along your collarbone and softly worked you down to a slow grind. Your heart rate fell steady as he finally indulged you with a sweet kiss, stark comparison to the mean words he spat earlier.
He wouldn’t be Jisung if he didn’t leave you wanting more, pulling away prematurely and leaning back again, this time taking you with him. He guided your hands to hold onto the top of the head board and smother his face in your breasts. Marks he bit into your skin felt more pleasurable than painful, you wondered if the slap before truly hurt or if you were just shocked.
Your grip on the headboard tightened as his hands lifted you a bit more by your bottom and spread your knees wider. Jisung jutted up slightly, testing his and your patience. He did this again, shallowly thrusting just the tip into you, making you moan, “Ji, baby, pleeease.”
“Am I still a pillow princess, pup? You couldn’t even get yourself to cum, now I have to do all the work.” Even if it was mean, his tone of voice like mothering a toddler that was learning to eat on their own, gentle teaching.
“Hnghhh, nooo,” you mewled.
“No, what, pup?” Jisung continued his depthless ruts, egging you on.
“Can’t– need to– wanna cum–”
He could hear how fragile you were now, overall amazed by you to the point he wanted to ditch the entire facade and give you everything you wanted. Though, he needed to see it through till the end, more like to prove to himself that he could do it in the first place.
Adjusting his hands to grip your love handles firmly, Jisung kept you in place to thrust up into you. You were caught off guard at how quickly he gave into your needy pleas, knees almost giving out below you. But Jisung was quick to catch your weight, every thrust up as you fell down kept you bouncing once again, tits jiggling in his face delightfully smothering. The minor slap he left to your ass made your cunt clench and cry out louder, then repeating just to get a reaction. Jisung wasn’t sure what he loved more, how naturally your body responded to him or how you couldn’t seem to get enough.
Your hands moved from the head board to his shoulder, wrapping around his neck to brace yourself on and to feel as close as possible. Here, you were coming undone quicker than expected, having him doing the work now let you fall victim to the euphoria of his cock nudging the sweet spot within you, stars behind your eyelids. Ripples of pain from Jisung teething at your skin meshed with the pleasure, you didn’t realize how loud you had gotten until you couldn’t hear him nor the skin on skin anymore.
Body shaking, coveting for the high and well on its way, you snuck your hands into his hair and hardly needed to tug to have Jisung’s head falling back and looking up at you through his lashes. His thrusts kept a steadier rhythm, digging his heels into the mattress and coercing you into meeting his lips in a jolty, electrifying kiss. Just as your lips met, the tip of his cock hit your soft spot right on target, shoving you face first into the feeling you’d been dying for. Your body tensed and clenched around him, fucking you through your orgasm until it eventually subsided.
A bit longer you let Jisung use your body to chase his own, he deserved it for putting up with your sharp tongue. Even that didn’t take very long, Jisung had been fending off his orgasm for over twenty minutes, from even before you took your shirt off.
And when the white light blinded him, Jisung let out a string of curses and your name, hints of whiney whimpers in between. He was exceptionally quick to recover, immediately noting your state of mind and body and helped you to lay down.
You winced as he pulled out and used his shirt to catch any spillage, holding it to your cunt before he airlifted you to the bathroom. You had forgotten whose house you were in, that’s how hazy you’d gotten.
Jisung let you finish your business, kissing your forehead and wiping your body down with a wet rag once you’d called his name to help you back to bed.
The bed in question was beyond messy, fitted sheet undone and comforter on the floor. Did Jisung always sleep with just one pillow? No, there were the other three strewn about the perimeter of the bed, one somehow ending up at the foot of it. Jisung, seeing where your head was at as he set you down to lay back, said, “got a bit carried away, didn’t we?”
“We?” You joked, voice horse. He gave you a wink and ran off to grab some water before retreating into the space next to you.
Neither of you bothered to get dressed, laying naked in one another’s arms as you decompressed together. “You’re not as rough as I thought you’d be,” you admitted, rolling over and throwing a leg over his torso.
“I’m not? Noted,” Jisung raised an eyebrow and kissed your forehead again. “If we’re giving feedback, I’d say Minho is gonna have a hell of a time with you. He’ll like the whole brat thing.”
“Did you?” You look up at him, genuinely just curious.
“That’s not even a question,” he waved it off, scoffing because how could you not tell that he was internally cursing himself for not confessing to you sooner if that was the outcome? “Everything I could ask for and more.”
“I liked the nickname a lot. No one’s ever called me that before.”
“Yeah? It suits you. Cute puppy,” Jisung wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed tightly, knocking the air out of you. “But I’m curious,” his voice dropped just a little. “You think of us? Me and Minho?”
“Well— yeah. And honestly, I thought the roles would’ve been reversed.”
“You think he’s a top? Oh, sweet, sweet, baby.” Jisung pecked loving kisses to the top of your head, “he’s half a power bottom at best.”
“To be fair, I didn’t even know he liked girls,” the whisper in your tone softened along with Jisung’s touch, moving to gently run his fingers through your hair.
“He’s the real pillow princess, baby. You might have to knock some sense into him.”
Smirking up at him, “you’ll let me?”
“I’ll let you do anything you want to him.”
“Mmm, you wouldn’t mind if I mark him up?” Jisung’s eyebrow raised, intrigued, “let me cover him in pretty bruises?”
“I’d kill to see that, pup.” You were being smothered in kisses once more, closing your eyes and falling victim to his sweet touches. “But tell me what else you think about. You’ve piqued my interest.”
“You want me to tell you that I fantasized about my best friends making out?”
“Duh. Me, though, tell me what you think about me.” You could just tell he was wiggling his eyebrows with a sly smirk.
You groaned, “in the morning. Tired.”
Jisung took hold of your shoulders and shook you side to side, whining, “nooo, puppy, pleeease? Just a few compliments then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”
Protests went in one ear and out the other with him, not letting you lay still until you gave him what he wanted. “You’re so lucky I like you, fucking menace.”
“Just like?” His mouth fell open into an “O.”
“Love. I love you.”
It was a lot easier to say when you had your face buried in his chest, not having to look him in the eye as you did. You knew that if you had been looking at him, you might’ve broken into tears, which would’ve made Jisung cry, too. That still didn’t stop your face from heating up and being hit with another rush of emotions.
“How much?” He teased, thankfully not seeing your eyes glaze over.
“I love you a lot. Like, a monumental amount and… Min, too. It’s scary,” your voice falling short and nuzzling your cheek into his skin.
Jisung let you take your time to slow your breathing again before he spoke, “I’d kiss you but I’m scared if I look at you, I’ll cry like a baby.”
“I know you will. Just hold me?”
He did, tighter, if that was even possible. “I will, just like this. Except when Min’s here, he’ll be right behind you to keep your cute booty warm when you fall asleep. You won’t have any space to move ‘cus neither of can stand to not be touching in some way. You’ll probably overheat and be on the verge of death by heatstroke, we give off heat like fucking furnaces. I’ll have a little snack on my side table in case you get hungry in the middle of the night, or you can roll over and get a few cuddles from Min, I won’t be upset, cross my heart.” You giggled at that. “We can move into his place since we all know he has the biggest bedroom, or we can look for another place to fit all three of us and give you a nice, big closet. Every night, we can take turns cooking and let Min throw a fit when we both burn the food so he ends up cooking for us anyways…”
Your chest was filled, warm and sickeningly sweet with the words Jisung continued to whisper in your ear until you eventually fell asleep. The nauseating feeling of waiting, wondering was nowhere near now that there was a clear landing for where you stood in their established relationship, at least, for now.
-
A/N: YAYAYAYAY phase one!!! idea: 10/10, execution: 4/10...I've been having a hard time connecting ideas lately and I think it's just stress but I'm hoping this lived up to expectations ://
feedback!! feed me!! I love love love hearing what you all think! it really does help me improve as a writer, even if it's constructive!
reminder to drink water, eat three meals a day, give your loved ones a hug. < 3
tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @aliferousminho @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @angelica-erin-caelius @dazzlingligth @lvrmin @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten
story tags: @bookwyrm28 @ladylexis @blankdyean @sujurunaway @mal-lunar-28 @pussy-drunk @bangchxnnie @lyramundana @bumblebee-zone @bloopreads @propertyoftoru @ana-stasssiaaa @iheartjozzy @kurxxmi
#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids han#stray kids lee know#poly!minsung#han jisung#jisung smut#jisung fluff#jisung x reader#jisung x yn#jisung x you#lee know smut#lee know fluff#lee minho smut#lee minho fluff#minho x reader#minho x yn#minho x you#poly!minsung x reader#poly!minsung smut#poly!minsung x yn#poly!minsung x you#minsung#poly!skz#poly!skz x reader#poly!skz x yn#poly!skz x you#skz smut
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I need a little ANGSTYYY. Basically the reader (female) and Anakin have a situationship and get to know each other and reader has been waiting patiently until Anakin cuts all ties to persue a relationship with Padme. Reader is heartbroken but soon meets someone new too and Anakin is so JELLY and realizes his mistake? (Happy ending between them pls) THANKS, LOVE THE WORK
Took You Long Enough - Anakin Skywalker
Summary - Anakin chose Padme over you but gets jealous after seeing you with someone new.
Warnings / Mentions - GN!Reader, AFAB!Reader, complicated relationships, no actual cheating, more so emotional cheating, Padme and Reader are best friends
A/N - listening to light shower by Melanie while writing this...may have hurt my own heart with this one (I'm such a baby oh my god), ending is rushed because I had no idea how to end this...
Requested - Yes
Word Count - 1968
Padme and you have been friends for years, you grew up around each other. When Padme was elected Queen at just the age of 14, you were so happy for her. Despite being childhood friends, you're a couple years younger than her.
She took you everywhere, and of course when the people were under attack, she wanted to keep you as close as possible.
You met Anakin the same time that Padme did. Anakin was 9 years old, and Padme was of course, 14. You fell between them in age, only 1 year older than Anakin, meanwhile 4 years younger than Padme.
Anakin took a liking to Padme, while you took a liking to him.
By the end, Padme and your parents decided to send you to the Jedi Temple. You weren't force sensitive and you weren't to be trained. But during the conflict, enemies were constantly targeting you. Your family was a powerful one, and you'd be easier to take out compared to the Queen. So while your family dealt with their affairs, you were to stay at the Temple. If you requested to return home, you must come with a body guard.
So you grew up in the temple, alongside Anakin. You weren't particularly close. Obi-Wan wasn't the one who watched over you unless he had to.
The older you and Anakin got, the more you became friends.
When Anakin turned 16, he kissed you. It was your first kiss and you were shocked at first. But you couldn't think of anyone better to share it with.
You knew you loved him. It became more and more obvious. You never told anyone about it, always worried that it would get Anakin kicked out of the Jedi.
You never talked about your odd relationship with each other. Anakin would always be the one to make a move first, you were too hesitant.
When you were 19, Anakin 18, the tension between you was always thick. He couldn't be around you for too long before he would get excited.
It was like a flip switched for him, constantly wanting to be inside you. One of the times, he saw you staring at him whilst he was training. No one else was in the room, so he took his chance. Not caring if you both were to get caught.
You almost did get caught. Multiple times.
You always wanted more from him, wanting to be with him. But you knew it wasn't possible. Nothing serious at the least.
After Padme became a Senator, she needed body guards. Obi-Wan and Anakin were selected, and since you knew Padme, you were allowed to go along with them.
As soon as Anakin saw Padme, you just knew. You could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at her and not you. He looked at you with a look of...friendship? But other times with lust.
The way he looked at Padme was nothing of how he looked at you. He looked at her with love, adoration. The sensual stare he gave her, was the exact stare you often gave to him.
Padme didn't seem interested at all. At least at first. Throughout the mission, she started to change.
You had to watch the entire time as your best friend slowly fell in love with the man you had loved for years.
You never told Padme, about the dynamic you shared with Anakin.
Anakin would still come to you at night, the stress of the mission getting to him.
The night he cut ties with you was the same night you decided to go back home. You told yourself that you would rather have the chance of dying by a family enemy than to see Padme with Anakin.
Anakin had you bent over the bed of the spare room you were given. It was well past midnight, everyone sound asleep. No present threats.
His right hand ran through his sandy colored hair, his other rested on your hip. Your face was shoved into a pillow, attempting to muffle your moans. Anakin's lips were raw and red, biting down on his lower lip to discourage his own sounds.
And then it happened. He was at his climax and you were too. But when a name fell from his mouth in a whimper. It wasn't yours.
You both immediately realized as he came to a full stop. You quickly pulled away from him. Hurt shown on your face as you quickly got dressed.
He apologized over and over as you threw your clothes back on.
"I didn't mean it-" He whisper yelled at you, grabbing your arm to stop you.
"You said her name. When you're with me. I don't know what we are, but Anakin I have done nothing but wait for you. I was the one who was there when you came back from hard missions. I was the one there when life as a Jedi Padawan was hard...and the really fucking sad part is that I can't even be mad at you." Your eyes filling with tears, sniffles escaping you.
"I never asked you to wait for me." Anakin said harshly, never making eye contact, just staring at the ground.
"We should stop." He continued, his tone softer. You didn't say anything, just staring at him for a second.
Not saying anything, you yanked your arm back from his grip. Leaving the room as quietly as possible, instead going to take a shower as you thought everything over.
Obi-Wan agreed to take you back home when he saw how distraught you looked, even after putting yourself together.
A couple of months pass by, Anakin never told Padme about you, and you still never said a word to her. She was your best friend and you just wanted her to be happy. It would kill you inside anytime she called you and told you about him.
Back home on Naboo, your parents decided it was time for you to marry. They gave you a list of bachelors to choose from.
You finally settled on a man. You liked him and knew that you could grow to love him too. You held off on the wedding, even on the engagement. Just dating and getting to know each other.
You felt...happy? As happy as you could be at the least. He wasn't like Anakin and you weren't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.
You still loved Anakin, your heart ached for him.
Your future fiancé wanted to take your relationship to the next level but you just couldn't.
You couldn't give yourself to someone, not the way you did with Anakin. He haunted your thoughts.
Padme surprised you with a visit, Anakin and Obi-Wan tagging along too. You avoided Anakin as much as possible. Even during the introduction between your boyfriend and the others.
Padme liked your boyfriend, she thought he was a good choice for you. Obi-Wan approved but Anakin just stayed silent, glaring daggers at the man.
The visit lasted about a week, they weren't staying with you but would come over at least once everyday. You didn't mind since Padme and you were basically sisters.
Anytime Anakin was over, it's like he was trying to get on your nerves. One of the times, Anakin was drinking a glass of water as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Padme had her back to Anakin, sitting across from you on a couch. Your boyfriend sat next to you, an arm around you. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and then you heard breaking glass.
You all promptly turned towards the noise, seeing the cup shattered on the floor as he worked on cleaning it up.
Another time, you and Anakin were in your garden. He obviously had to say something but you kept ignoring him. Just walking away. Padme was resting and your boyfriend was out of the house. He practically chased you around the garden, asking all these questions.
"When did you meet him?"
"Why are you even with him? You couldn't have found someone better?" His questions nagged at the back of your mind, starting to give you a headache.
"Why? Jealous?" You scoffed, tending to one of the nearby flowers.
"Maybe I am jealous. Why does that matter? Have you even told him about me?"
"Why would I tell him about you? You're the one who ended it." You'd remind him, dusting yourself off as you stood, walking towards the fountain. Just wanting some kind of distance.
Anakin would grab your arm, stopping you just like he tried to that night. He'd stare at you, not knowing what to say. "He isn't me." Being the only sentence he can form.
"He isn't you." You vocalize, confirming it. Still unaware of it being good or bad.
"He never will be." Anakin says, frustration evident on his face.
"Anakin just stop. You can't toy with me like this. You chose Padme. You can't just come after me because I'm supposed to marry." Anakin's bottom lip trembles at your words.
"I can't be apart from you. I thought that I wanted Padme. But I just didn't realize I wanted you more. I'm in physical pain when I see him with you. That should be me." Anakin drops to his knees in front of you, his mental pain splayed across his face.
"I would destroy myself and the world if it meant you would forgive me." Anakin's eyes show the agony he feels and it's getting to you.
"You're with Padme. I can't ask you to leave her. She's still my best friend." The sadness in your own voice catches you off guard.
"I don't think Padme ever wanted to be with me." Anakin answered honestly.
"Anakin...I can't say yes to you. Even if I wanted to. I have to marry someone, my parents expect me to." I try to gentle the blow of rejection on him but he persists.
"I'll marry you. I'd do anything to be with you. I'll leave the Jedi Order." He spurts out a string of words.
"Anakin, you're not leaving the order for me. Talk to Padme, if you find a solution...I'll listen." You say, talking your hand back from him and exiting the garden, going back to your home.
A couple of days go by, oddly quiet. Padme and Anakin hadn't stopped by. You broke up with your boyfriend, telling him that you just weren't ready to be committed to him. Your parents were upset and set their sights on looking for a new bachelor until you could stick to one.
You just stayed at home reading books, taking care of your plants and cooking for yourself.
Your kitchen is a mess, ingredients everywhere when the front door opens revealing Padme and Anakin.
"You didn't tell me?" Padme announces, making your blood run cold.
"How couldn't you tell me?" She says as she walks towards you, pulling you into an embrace.
"Our relationship comes before anyone." She states.
"I don't care if you love him. I don't care if he loves you." Padme chimes in, breaking away from the hug before whispering.
"I think I'm a lesbian anyways..." Your eyes widen while Anakin laughs behind Padme.
"Just had to outright say it?" He raises his eyebrow.
"Yep, I'm leaving now, you guys get to talk about what happens between you now." She waves as she closes the front door with her exit.
Anakin looks at you nervously, "I'm still willing to quit being a Jedi..." He chides, trying to give himself some relief.
"You don't have to, we can just...have a private wedding..." You smile, basically tackling him in a hug. Your legs wrap around him as he secures you in place.
He grins down at you, "Yeah, I'd like that."
#anakin skywalker x you#anakin x you#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker#star wars anakin
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Promise Me | Part II
When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.
Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)
Words: 5.2k++
Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader
Warnings: little angst, melancholy but fluffy stuff, we have bucky's pov in this one, lovers who missed each other very much, emotional reunion, probably bad writing of fighting scenes (sorry guys), mentions of suicide, mentions of sexy times, death of main character (y/n' s past life), another attempt to follow mcu timeline, otherwise, nothing that's too heavy/sensitive for anyone to read.
P/S: Thanks so much for the feedbacks in previous chapters! Here's the new update, guys! I hope you enjoy your reading!
Read my other works here: Masterlist
Brooklyn, 2024 – Glimpses of the past
"So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Raynor asked as she leaned leisurely on her chair. However long it had been since the first time she met Bucky on their first therapy session, she still couldn't crack the man to talk more than he deem necessary.
Bucky sat silently on the sofa that was certainly big enough to fit three people with its size, as he stared blankly at the door behind Dr. Raynor, wanting to avoid eye contact with the woman.
"James, I asked you a question." She prompted as she crosses her legs together. "Are you still having nightmares?"
If he was being truthful, then his answer would've been yes, however he decided to test if she managed to see through him, "No." He replied with a convincing tone.
Dr. Raynor paused for a moment as she eyed his behaviour, "We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying." She quirked her eyebrow as if she was non-verbally asked him to cut the crap.
"Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"
Yes. Something did happened recently.
Sure, there was the horrid nightmare that had been haunting him in his sleep most of the nights, but lately there was something else that's been making unannounced appearance in his dreams. Something much older than his memories of the Winter Soldier.
They were glimpses of the past where he was but a man in his mid 20's living his best life with a woman he thought he was going to end up growing old with.
Bucky saw images of his younger, undamaged self tangled up in bed with that woman. His hands raking through her raven hair as he pushed the mess away from her face. And when she whined in her sleep he would let out a soft chuckle as he lovingly stroke his thumb across her cheek.
He remembered feeling the tug in his chest when the morning light touches her brown eyes as she peeled them open. He remembered the sweet smile she graced upon him as she pulled him in for an innocent kiss. He remembered the warmth of her naked skin rubbing against his own when she snuggled back into his body.
Those were always a pleasant dream to have during his sleepless nights. However rare it was to have them; he found himself spared in the gentle grace that she left behind from those loose pieces of memories. He realized that his broken soul yearns for her peace more than his will longs for his freedom.
"No." He lied again.
"You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…" Dr. Raynor gestured her hands as if there was an invisible knife in her grasp as she motioned a stabbing movement.
Bucky let out a silent sigh, nodding his head with a somewhat forced derpy smile as she continued to explain, "It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."
However, Bucky remained stubborn on keeping the memories of his lover to himself. He simply shook his head as he briefly looked to the side and out the window, before coming back and confessed, "I didn’t have a nightmare."
Dr. Raynor breathed deeply, letting the air out through her nose as she clicked on the mechanical pen. The pointer latched on the surface of the lined papers as she started to write down her observation.
Bucky who was sitting on the opposite side only scoffed in respond to her petty attempt of threat, "Oh, come on. Really?" He taunted, "You’re gonna do the notebook thing?" Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he commented his thoughts outspokenly, "Why? It’s passive aggressive."
"You don’t talk. I write." The therapist replied with a short comeback.
Bucky glared intensely at her before letting out a sigh, "Okay. Okay."
His flesh fingers started to fiddle with his metal ones, a habit which he noticed he recently picked up after getting used to the high-tech vibranium arm.
"It wasn't a nightmare. It's just..." Bucky didn't know how to put it in words other than, "...a good dream."
It was in the peak of witching hours, when Y/N stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen section of her lover's humble apartment. The quiet of the night sometimes interrupted by the sound of the droplets trickling from the faucet.
There was a luminating light of the full moon that leaks through the open window, granting enough of a vision to see the layout of the kitchen. The stillness of the air made Y/N wonder if this is what she would need to go through soon.
Just an empty atmosphere without the presence of her lover.
And there she goes again, wondering in the seemingly endless darkness, thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen.
She had been staring unblinkingly at the counter top for who knows how long since she was woken up from her slumber.
Y/N couldn't go back sleep even if she needed to. Not when tomorrow is the day that she dreaded the most. The day Bucky was going on his first call, to be sent away to England first thing morning.
"Missed you in bed, yknow?" The huskiness of Bucky's voice broke her from the gloomy thoughts.
Y/N turned around to first see the bare shape of her lover's body, lean and slightly muscular, then trailed up to his sleepy grin, barely opened eyes and the mess of his bed hair sticking out all over the place.
She had to admit, partially, it was her fault for constantly pulling on them when he went down on her. But it was also important to note that it was entirely his fault for being so damn good at it.
Bucky's humming was hoarse when he walked towards her, "What are you doing up, doll?" While Y/N watched his naked figure moved closer.
Bucky Barnes is a beautiful man.
She knew that even before they started dating but it is a wonder that his beauty still to manage to catch her off guard sometimes.
The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she whispered onto his skin, "Can't sleep." She kept it short and ambiguous but that only became the biggest giveaway to Bucky.
Bucky effortlessly lifted her up on the counter as he settled comfortably in between her legs. His hands trailed along the side of her thighs, casually lifting up the thin material of her night gown before going under it to gently fondle with the flesh of her hips.
He leaned upwards, placing the softest kiss on her lips as he murmured, "Everything's going to be alright, y/n." He kissed her again for a good measure, "I'll be home to you before you know it."
Y/N wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their forehead touches each other's, "You must write me, always." She spoke quietly; as if it was a secret she wanted to keep from the world.
"You must tell me everything, James. Don't hide anything from me; every blood, sweat and tears. I want to know all of it." Her eyes pleaded desperately, "You must be safe." Their lips hovered over each others; so close, barely even touching, "And come home."
The blue of his eyes were glazed with so much love and adoration as he whispered, "I promise, doll. I'm not going to die before I meet you at the end of the isle."
Somehow, Bucky always knew what to say to make her crack a smile, "I love you, James. Too much for my own good." She pulled him as she kissed his soft lips, "I love you too, y/n. More than anything." He grabbed her by the head, latching his mouth on hers as if it was their last kiss.
Before she knew it, Bucky swiftly pulled her off from the counter and grabbed her onto his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oh my god, Bucky! Put me down right now!" The brunette simply laugh as she shriek his name, "James!"
"James!" Dr. Raynor managed to pull Bucky out of his thoughts. "You're clearly out of it today." She remarked before continuing, "And so, this woman in your dreams... Is she someone you knew back in the 40's?"
Bucky replied, "Most probably." He hesitated as he thought thoroughly, "Or it could just be a made up character that only exists in my dreams."
"Does she perhaps, have a name?" Dr. Raynor asked, in which he simply answered, "She does."
There was brief silence of unbroken eye-contact between them, before Bucky realized that the therapist was silently enquiring her name.
Bucky straightened his position in his seat as blatantly stated, "I'm not telling you her name." That was where he drew the line. Therapist or not; she didn't need to know his lover's identity.
Dr. Raynor hanged her hands up as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. That's fair." That was when the timer on her phone went off, "Oh, time's up." She reached for her phone and slide across the screen.
She quickly stood on her feet as soon as Bucky did on his own, "That would be all for this session. Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Barnes."
He had to let out a sarcastic chuckle when he said, "It's not that I want to anyway. It's mandatory." He walked towards the door but before he could turn the knob, Dr. Raynor spoke.
"Outside of this 'mandatory' session, I'd say my advice to you as a friend, is to maybe find her. Or her family." She suggested, "And if you're lucky..." She briefly paused, "...maybe she's still alive somewhere."
Bucky remained static for a moment before he spoke, "Thanks, Doc." He didn't look back to face her at all, before walking out the room feeling much more burdened than he did entering it.
Dr. Raynor's advice soon turned out to be a constant dilemma to him more than he anticipated.
Virginia, 1991 – The man she once loved
Y/N panicked. She didn't think the appearance of that metal-armed man will trigger a deep-rooted memories she was desperately trying to forget; spiralling her back into old chapters of her previous life.
It was the year of 1991 and Y/N was in her 6th life. She was a black widow that went rogue after managed on escaping the Red Room program about a few years prior. She was drunk on hatred and vengeance that she almost recklessly killed half of the people in her facility on the day she escaped.
It's not to say that she came out uncut, it was quite the opposite really. Y/N had left the grounds with multiple holes on her body and a deep wound her face; a cut from the inner edge of her right brow all the way across her left cheek.
And that left her with a very prominent and unforgettable scar. Though she couldn't care less about it, especially when she knew Hydra was out there still thriving under another intellegence organization like some kind of parasite.
After she heard the news that Howard Stark has successfully replicate the super soldier serum, she is now somewhere in Virginia, trying to hijack the products before it falls in the hands of the Pentagon or worst, Hydra.
Unfortunately for her, the worst thing that could happen, happened.
Someone from Hydra managed to get their hands on them before she could, leaving the corpses of Howard Stark and his wife in the broken down car, posing it as a road accident.
The bodies was still warm and she knew the culprit won't be far from the crime scene, so she rode on forward until managed to catch up with him. She never intended to confront him head on. She was planning to follow him to the meeting point where they will transfer the products to another Hydra agent, like they always do.
But he certainly didn't care about her plan when he changed his route to a different location. She didn't even realized that her incognito was useless when he nearly shot her in the head.
Now, with her cover blown, it was just him and her alone at the gate of an abandoned building. "Well, shit." Y/N cursed.
She could feel the heavy tension from the atmosphere. Silence from the wordless man were screaming louder than her pumping heartbeat.
There were only two of those run-down street lamp that helped to brigthen up the battlefield. But even with the dying light, Y/N could see the silver of left arms, a red star on the upper side, black mask covering lower half of his face and a messy black shadow all over his eyes.
She knew who he was; though most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. Hydra's most prized asset from the Winter Soldier program that Y/N had been trying to track for months.
Maybe it was a careless greed, or maybe she was just tired of living. But, Y/N dared herself to fight the against super soldier. It was intense but completely one-sided as the soldier managed to counter most her punches and kicks.
There were times that she felt like he was simply playing around with her and that riled Y/N to the core. If it wasn't enough for God to toy with her life, now this weapon of Hydra is joining the fun.
She was sick of it; and it got her to be impatient. That, however, was a mistake that she shouldn't have done especially during a hand-to-hand combat with the Winter Soldier himself.
Y/N ducked down from his swinging arm as she surged her own towards him but the man could see her moves from a mile away, so he dropped his knife to his other hand and managed to strike the blade right into where her pulsing heart resides.
All the times she had ripped her own life, it seemed that her soul was used to the pain that it took a few moments of time to register the pain.
"Ah, this is truly exhausting." She thought to herself.
She wanted it to end.
She wanted to rest. For good.
In her hazy vision, she looked up at the soldier and noticed that he had been staring blankly into her eyes; like a curious predator watching his dying prey.
She knew it was wrong, but looking closer at the shade of blue in his dead and frozen eyes, she couldn't help to find the resemblance in the man she once loved.
It was cruel to find the semblance of her lover in the eyes of her killer, but that tends to happen when a person's soul longed for someone so much that everything and anything became the reminder of them.
Streams of tears trickled down into her ears as her blood seeped through her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground under her.
Instead of hearing the sound of the soldier's footstep walking away, all she could hear was the vivid memories of Bucky's laughter, "I miss you, James."
She truly did.
She missed him so much that she wished that she can finally die this time around, praying for a chance to meet him once more.
But alas, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Not when the God hates her now.
"I miss you so much." her voice shivered as she whispered her last breath.
Madripoor, 2024 – Long-lost lover
Easy to say, Y/N was furious that she let the memories of her past, the appearance of the winter soldier, distract her focus for her mission. She was furious that she didn't manage to get into Wilfred's lab before someone else did.
Don't get her wrong, though.
She was somewhat grateful when she found him dead, because that's means there's one less parasite that could potentially revive Hydra from the recreation of super soldier serum. But, she was pissed that she wasn't able to dig for more information about his research and the people he was affiliated with.
She knew he was recruited by the CIA before the blip but seeing that his lab is now basically a cargo, located in Madripoor, she doubt that he has anything to do with CIA now.
He's probably working with someone else in the underground scene.
Y/N sat leg-crossed on stacks of cargo, as she watched the scene from afar. The bounty hunters were ruthlessly attacking a group of criminals that attacked Shelby last night, while they were completely out-numbered.
She heard from the bar that it was considerably a high pay for the rewards especially when the targets were consists of the runaway prisoner, Zemo, Hydra's weapon, the Winter Soldier and the member of Avenger, the Falcon.
It was indeed an odd group of people but she couldn't care less about how that came to be. What caught her attention was the fact that the Falcon, who is a member of the Avenger, was affiliated with the Winter Soldier, who is an asset of Hydra.
And the fact that they were digging their feet in the underground world for the super soldier serum making the trio combination even more concerning.
She knew it was the best bet to approach the Falcon for information rather than going for the other two, so when the group split up during their fight, she quietly followed the Falcon.
He was a bit clumsy when fighting alone; or maybe it was because the hunters kept streaming in non-stop. Nonetheless, one by one, eventually the Falcon managed to take them down.
Y/N lurked at the corner, quietly observing his fighting style as he struggled with the few that was left.
"He's going to run out of ammo." She thought to herself.
And two shots later, he did.
There were two hunters left and he had no choice but to use his fists. Looking at him now, maybe he suited the hand-to-hand combat style more than gun combat. Y/N noticed his moves are more seamless than when he fight with a gun a few seconds ago.
The Falcon breathed heavily as the last hunter was tackled down. She decided that it had to be now or never, at least before the winter soldier came to the scene to regroup. When she stepped out of her camouflage, the Falcon only noticed her presence that he missed the red dot on his chest.
But, Y/N saw it, "Fuck! He can't die. Not before I get what I want." She couldn't let him go without getting information she needed from him.
In mere seconds, she jumped towards him and managed to pulled him away from the target. However, it was not far enough, that was when the bullet grazed on his side. Y/N quickly grabbed her throwing knife and land it right into the hunter's head.
The Falcon staggered backwards, meeting his back on the side of the cargo as he groaned in pain. His eyes scanned the appearance of his potential saviour; hooded figure, mask-covered face, assassin-like dressed – he realized that she matched the description of what Sharon had warned him before.
"So before we move, this might be unrelated, but I gotta warn you guys about someone." Sharon spoke as she equipped herself.
The three men looked over her as they gave their undivided attention, "While last night was hectic with the return of the Winter Soldier." She briefly looked over at Bucky, "But, there was also another person that made an appearance."
"She's known as the Deathstalker." She paused. "What I can say about her is she's a basically mystery; appeared out of thin air a few months into the blip." Sharon explained, earning a couple of nods from Sam and the signature frown from Bucky.
However, Zemo simply smiled and commented, "Ah, the pretty little Deathstalker." The mannerism of his speech was thick with Sokovian accent.
"You know her?" Sharon quirked.
Zemo smiled again, this time a little bit too smug, "We might have once crossed our path." He kept it ambiguous.
"When? You were in the prison years before the blip." Sam frowned as he questioned.
Sipping on the glass of liquor, Zemo answered, "She may or may not have 'visited' me to get some information about Hydra."
The mention of Hydra caught Bucky's attention but he kept it well hidden under his stoic expression. Noticing Sam's confusion with Zemo's insinuating answer, Bucky simply laid it out for him, "It means, she broke into the prison, Sam." he simply sighed.
Sam jutted his lips as he shrugged, "Guess you're not the only one who's insane here, Buck." He teased as he poked fun of Bucky's decision of 'breaking into the prison' to let Zemo out.
"You said, 'pretty little Deathstalker'. So you've seen her face?" Sharon asked curiously as she crossed her arms to her chest. No one had seen the assassin's face before, so she could help but to ask.
Zemo shook his head, "No. But that signature mask of hers cannot hide the beauty within." He smirked as he recalled the look in the Deathstalker's eyes; she had that obsession for vengeance. As he did when he broke the Avengers apart .
"You see, I've always had the eyes for beautiful things." He explained as if it was a natural thing to say.
Sharon knew shouldn't let herself expect too much from Zemo, especially when he had that attitude. She simply rolled her eyes and walked towards the seat next to Sam.
Bucky leaned his back into the sofa, spreading his legs apart as he asked, "Is she gonna be a problem?" An assissin that's been breaking into prison to ask Zemo about Hydra. That doesn't seem like a casual information to overlook.
Sharon shrugged as she continued, "Well, depends on your move. But, I'd advice you to never get on her bad side. People speculated that she's a rogue assassin turned bounty hunter but the thing is... she has never taken any job."
Bounty hunters get their money from jobs that's advertised all over the city. So, the Deathstalker couldn't be called a Bounty Hunter when she never take jobs before. If it were up to Sharon, the Deathstalker was much suited under the same category as Ronin, the masked vigilante who tracks down and slaughters criminals during the blip.
Sharon explained that, "She just stalks around the underground scene, and leave bodies behind for people to find."
Zemo interjected, "Hence, her name." Gaining a glare from Sharon, that translates to "Do you want to tell the story or what?"
"Right." Sam nodded as he takes in the information.
After earning a silent apology from Zemo, Sharon continued, "No one knows who she works for or what her aim is but there's rumours she's been hunting down Hydra, or anyone and anything affiliated to it."
Again, the Deathstalker's obsession with Hydra had caught Bucky's attention. A rogue assassin seemingly made it her mission to hunt down Hydra?
Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. So, he kept his questions to himself. Eitherway, if she gets in their way, he'd still need to fight against her.
"Why are you telling us this again?" Sam asked as he didn't find the connection between their mission and the Deathstalker.
Sharon replied, "It's just worth to note that she might be hunting for Wilfred Nagel too." She paused as her gaze fell into Bucky's, "...since the super soldier serum had been Hydra's obsession for centuries."
The Dealthstalker technically saved his life.
So, does that mean that she was not an enemy?
Sam was struggling between containing his pain and coming up with a plausible conclusion but Y/N's action quickly give him the answer he needed.
Within seconds, she had Sam pinned against the wall as the edge of her sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck, "What is an Avenger doing with the Asset?" Her voice sounded distorted through the voice-changing mask.
"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" He grunted in protest.
Sam was not used to Bucky being labeled as an "asset". Sure, he knew the name of Winter Soldier or Soldat. But, Bucky was never addressed as the Asset, at least not by the people around him.
Y/N grabbed him by the collar and harshly slammed him against the metal of the cargo behind him, causing him to curse as the pain struck on the side of his abdomen.
"Are you planning to revive Hydra?" Her menancing eyes searched into his, demanding for a truthful answer.
What kind of bullshit was she talking about?
Reviving Hydra?
Why the hell would he do that?
However, before Sam could retort to her accusation, Y/N was pulled back by an arm, wrapped around her neck from behind. She knew it was the Winter Soldier from the cold metal burning into her skin. The soldier's other hand grabbed onto her wielded hand, forcefully bending her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.
He easily lifted her up in the air as he backed away, tightening the lock of his left arm around her neck while twisting her right hand to her back with his flesh hand. The smaller let out a robotic groan through her mask as she struggled in his chokehold.
While the two wrestled in between holding one down and freeing oneself, Sharon quickly ran to Sam's side, "Are you alright?" she prompted as she examined his wounds. The male simply nodded his head, "Yeah, it's just a graze." He explained before asking, "Is that the Deathstalker chick that you've been talking about?"
Sharon followed his gaze, and eyed the woman who was still struggling in Bucky's hold before she managed to land a paticularly sharp strike right into Bucky's stomach, "Yeap, that would be her." Sharon answered.
Usually a few strikes by an elbow of a woman doesn't really hurt the super soldier but unfortunately for him, the elbows of the suit Y/N was wearing were armored with thin yet effective pad made of vibranium. Due to its ability is to absorb and dissipate shocks, it managed to push him back and simultaneously loosen his hold on her.
When his guard was down, Y/N took the opportunity to slightly twist her foot back around his and grab onto his left arm. She pushed her bottom into his hips as she bend over, pulling onto his arm as she flipped him forward.
Y/N stepped backwards, standing on guard as the soldier rolled over on the ground before finding a position to stop the inertia; one knee of the ground while the other leg paused at his foot with his back facing her.
Her hands reached to her back and pulled two knives from the holster on the belt, gripping them by the handle while the blades facing downwards. She bended her knees into stance, much like a panther ready to pounce.
But when the soldier stood on his feet and turned around, suddenly her defensive stance flatter and her breath were cut short. The battled-tensed surroundings did not matter when all she could see was the soldier's face.
He looked a bit aged from the last time she saw him but a lot younger considering it was decades ago.
How could she forget those livid-blue eyes sharpen beneath the deep frown he was wearing?
Or the softness of his pursed lips ghosting over her own?
Even if the smooth skin of his forehead were now decorated with thin lines of wrinkles, and the exhaustion in the discoloration under his eyes had overshadowed the playful glint he used to have; they could never fool her to believe that the man standing in front of her right now was not her long-lost lover.
"James?" Her voice was gentle but the voice changer behind her mask didn't quite conveyed her tone.
Suddenly, the high walls of her defences begin to crumble into mere pieces of fragments like crushed dried leaves on autumn grounds. Time suspended, almost too still, as if it was trying to give her the luxury to cherish the revelation; to revel in the moment of joy and relief.
And there wasn't any thoughts formulated in the fog of her mind besides the need to melt in his arm. Somehow the dark side of her mind managed to trick her into believing that if she didn't touch him now, then she would perish in despair.
Her feet inches forward closer and closer, and her knives were long forgone, leaving clancking sounds on the surface of the ground.
When Bucky heard his name uttered by the woman, somehow it didn't sound foreign to him. It was as if he'd heard it before.
And when he saw the wet glaze in her brown eyes as she hesitantly walk towards him, he knew then that she was not approaching with an intent to kill him; he'd dare to say it was quite the opposite.
There were so much emotions in her gaze; grief, yearning, sorrow, need, joy – that he even his ex-assassin's skill couldn't possibly decipher them all. And that had impeccably managed froze every nerves in his body until he can only stood there, paralyzed on his spot.
With each hesitant step, more tears started to swell in her eyes. Step by step she took, hoping he wasn't another fragments of hallucination that she made up to ease her needs, until she finally stood close enough to him to realize he was real.
Bucky knew he should move. Reprimand her before she could land any sneak attack that he might not expect; but he couldn't. Not when she gaze up at him with that look in her eyes.
He unexpectedly drowned himself in those waves of emotions in her eyes, not realizing her actions until her shivering hands cupped his face.
Her fingers were cold as if they were soaked in ice.
Her voice slightly cracked when she spoke, "Is that really you, James?" Even if she was looking directly into his eyes, somehow the question sounded like it directed towards herself rather than to Bucky.
It's real.
He's real.
Her eyes casted down to where her skin met his warmth. There was a slight tingle when her thumbs rubbed against the stubble of his jaw, prickling her skin perfectly just as she remembered.
"It's you. James. It's really you." She mumbled under her breath, convincing herself over and over as if her brain refused to acknowledge it while her heart does otherwise.
Bucky, on the other hand, didn't know what to do or what to say. But, he hadn't heard anyone called him by that name so affectionately since Y/N. The lover he left behind during WWII, who's grave he had been visiting every Tuesday morning ever since that particular session with Dr. Raynor.
However, something in his guts were screaming at him to reach out to this woman's plea as she cried in his presence, lost in her own world as she muttered his name again and again.
But, why?
Why does he feel the need to cradle her body in his arms, and whisper the sweetest things to calm her down?
Why?
Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"
<< Part I || Part III >>
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Feel free to leave feedbacks! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until then, see you in the next part 🤍
#winterarmyyfics#promise me au#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x you#40s!bucky#tfatws!bucky#winter soldier!bucky#1940s!bucky
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All That Jazz
Jason Todd x Male Reader
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, both of you are kinda drunk, fingering, rimming, doggy-style to missionary.
The Socialite and The Vigilante | Masterlist
Summary: At a gala in the Wayne Manor Jason runs in to his old friend ”Y/n St Cloud” and the two decide to get a room…
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Jason walked around the crowded room while people danced to the cheerful jazz music. He gave the guests the occasional wave or polite greeting. Though really he was bored to death by the party but he wasn’t allowed to let it show and needed to put up a stuffy and gentlemanly front.
Then he laid eyes on someone and his face immediately turned in to a smirk and he made his way over to you. You were just picking up a glass of champagne when you heard a voice say ”St Cloud”. You looked up and was met with the familar face of Jason Todd.
He was a bit older than you but you were still close. You’d met when your mom, the well known socialite Silver St Cloud and his father were engaged at one point. Though they had brought the engagement to an end, you had never gotten to know specifically why.
Your mom had only told you the two of them just didn’t workout together and you hadn’t seen Bruce, Dick or Jason since then. You smiled and gave the older boy a hug saying ”Jason! Hey, it’s been so long”. ”Where you’ve been?” you asked him. ”Oh… you know buried” he said casually. ”In like work?” you asked.
”Yeah…” he answered awkwardly. The two of you left the crowded room of laughing socialites and jazz music to find somewhere quiet to catch up. The two of you sat down together on a couch and Jason poured up some of Bruce’s whiskey for the two of you.
You talked for hours about what the two of you had been up to over the years (Jason avoiding all the bat stuff he and the others had done). Then you noticed something Jason had placed his hand on your thigh, you glanced at his hand for a second and then looked up in to his eyes.
Jason then leaned in and placed a kiss on your lips and you kissed back. You don’t know what had come over the two of you, maybe it was repressed emotions of the past… or maybe just the whiskey.
Jason then asked quietly ”Wanna take this upstairs?”. To which you answered ”Lead the way” and he guided you through the luxourius mansion. You made your way up to the stairs to the next floor and Jason held open a door for you. The two of you went inside his bedroom and quickly started undressing each other.
Then you two hungrily made out on Jason’s bed in only your underwear, your arms and legs tangling together, your chests rubbing together and muffled Jazz-music being heard from downstairs. Jason ran his hand down your back and slipping it in your underwear, putting his hand on your ass and squeezing it.
You moaned quietly to his face and he smirked and said cockily ”Am i about to turn Y/n St Cloud into a moaning mess?”. ”Please, do your best” you challenged. Jason sat up and rolled you onto your stomach. He then slowly pulled down your underwear revealing your beautiful ass for him.
He spread your legs and opened his mouth and then you felt the wet feeling of his tounge between your ass cheeks. ”Oh shit, that’s good Jay” you said in pleasure. Jason then pulled your buttcheeks apart revealing your tight hole for him. He put his face your between your cheeks and went to town with your hole making you see stars.
Jason then rubbed a finger over your hole getting ready to finger you open. He brought out a bottle of lube from his nightstand and put some lube on his fingers, he then pushed one finger in your ass starting to open you up. He then added a second and then a third finger in to you opening you up.
You moaned softly as Jason fingered you open. Jason then brought his fingers out of you. He then pulled down his underwear setting free his big cock. He then rubbed some of the lube onto his length.
He then spread your ass cheeks and lined himself up with your hole and started pushing into you. You let out a gasp as Jason’s fat cock filled you up. ”Your doing so well Y/n” Jason said encouragingly as he eased his long and thick length in to you.
Once he was all the way in he waited to let you get used to him inside you. ”Start moving” you said to him and Jason placed his hands on your hips and started pull out and then slowly push back in.
Jason continued moving at a slow pace until you said ”Jason, go faster” and he did as told while you moaned below him. ”You like my fat cock inside you” Jason said as he pushed in to you. ”Yes, you feel so big” you said in ecstasy.
The sound of Jason’s thrusts started to echo through his room as he fucked in to you faster and rougher, making you a moaning mess under him. Jason wanted to see the pleasure on your face as he plowed in to you.
He slowed his thrusts and pulled out of you, he then grabbed you by your legs and flipped you on to your back. He lifted your legs over his shoulders and once again lined his cock up with you and pushed in again, watching his cock disappear in to you.
”Your so tight around my cock” Jason moaned as he pounded in to you roughly. As you moaned under him. You put you hands on his big man tits squeezing them. You felt yourself starting to get close to your orgasm.
Jason hard thrusts brought you over the edge and you came all over yourself, painting yourself in cum. The sight of you covered in your own seed was enough for Jason and he delivered a few last powerful thrusts in to you, rocking your whole body.
His thick cock pulsated inside you and painted your insides white with his big load of cum making it leak out of your. Jason then pulled out and laid down next to you and he planted a kiss on your lips.
He pulled the bed cover over the two of you and wrapped his arms around your body. ”Let’s do this again sometime” Jason said in a tired voice. ”I’m free all day tommorow” you said flirtily. ”It’s a date” Jason said with a smirk and the two of you fell asleep cuddled together.
#jason todd x male reader smut#jason todd x male reader#jason todd x male!reader#red hood x male reader#red hood x male!reader#batman x male reader#batfam x male reader#batfamily x male reader#x male reader#x male!reader#dc comics x male reader#dc x male reader#x male reader smut#male reader#male reader smut
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The Other Shelby Girl
Platonic!Shelby Siblings x reader
Headcanon/Imagine for a second Shelby Sister. Explores dynamics with each sibling based on of the reader were their older or younger sibling.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of war, violence, period-typical sexism, over-protective sibling drama.
Arthur
Older Sister:
You are the third most respected woman in Arthur’s life, which is greater than it sounds. First was Mum, then Polly. To be succeeded only by Polly in Arthur Shelby’s eyes is precious. He’s always looked up to you, but didn’t always show it. After the war, Arthur would come to rely on you heavily for emotional support. There were nights he would come to your home and no be able to speak. Where he would seem to turn back into a little boy, crying into your shoulder as he begs you not to speak of this to the others. When Arthur met Linda, you were one of the few to be supportive. You are Arthur’s greatest advocate, but his pride and Tommy’s influence make it hard to help him. When you have a family of your own, it’ll only make things harder. You often feel like you have to take sides. Still, you do what you think is best.
Younger Sister:
Depending on just how young you are, Arthur might try to put on like he’s your Dad. Arthur doesn’t always know how to talk to you. You’re just a young woman, he doesn’t feel like he can talk to you the way he does with John or Tommy. He wants to tease you and pick on you as he would with Finn, but he can’t. The moment you hit out your bottom lip and look like your feelings got hurt, Arthur is a flustered mess of a guilty brother. You might resist his attempts at being fatherly, or welcome them. Regardless, you can see that Arthur just wants you to know he’s a safe space for you. Maybe if you ask him nice enough, he’ll teach you how to draw horses like he used to. No matter how old you get, Arthur is the brother that still sees you as a little girl.
Thomas
Older Sister:
Before the war, Tommy only saw you as someone who nagged at him. The meddling older sister warning him away from throwing curses at people and fighting with the cops. After the war, you became something far more delicate than that. You became something like his conscience. That pleading voice that begged for peace and forgiveness that grows fainter every year. As adults, you swear sometimes he hates you. The way he disregards you and keeps you at arm’s length. In actuality, he’s only trying to avoid the shame your hopeful gaze gives him. It was you who tried to get the brothers to hide from the draft. It was you who told him getting involved in London affairs would be dangerous. You who told him not to accept anything from the Russians. You were always right. Always good. He also feels he must protect you because you know him when he was soft and weak. Aside from Polly, you’re the last person who ever heard him laugh.
Younger Sister:
He lumps you in with Ada without really meaning to. You and Ada are both younger, and are both girls. As such, you both have similar problems that have his head aching and his trigger finger itching. Two pretty girls tend to attract a lot of scummy men. You’re both so stubborn about not needing anything from him, which is bloody absurd. Of course you need his help. Whatever money you’re making doing legitimate work isn’t going to be enough to keep you safe. You have never gone on a single date without someone Peaky Blinder watching you. Arthur tries to give advice like he’s your dad, and Tommy drops rules on you like he’s your dad. He has absolutely said the phrase, “And where are you going dressed like that?” Tommy will kill your ex-boyfriends if asked, he already knows why you want them dead and he agrees. The only thing he likes more than you accepting his help is hearing you admit he was right.
John
Older Sister:
He is the little brother who reads your diary and eats your food after being told not to. As a kid, John was Hell on legs. As an adult, John is still Hell on legs but with children. Growing up, you spent a lot of time picking John up from police stations and headmaster offices. John stresses you out like he’s being bloody paid for it. But, he loves you dearly and you forgive him more often than you should. John has called you “Mum,” as a joke many times but it’s not quite a lie. As an adult, he is far more respectful towards you. He is one to bow his head when you lecture him about fatherhood and how his drinking is going to harm his children. John respects you enough to take his cap off when he enters your home. However, he’ll still gobble down any treats you’ve left out in the kitchen and have the audacity to say, “What?!” When you shout at him for it.
Younger Sister:
John will not only read your diary and eat your snacks, but he will loudly announce your crush the moment he finds out. Any reluctance Arthur has about picking on you is nonexistent in John. He is a fully grown man who is unafraid to tease you with schoolyard chants in public spaces. Has walked into your room while you were reading just to slap something off of your desk and run. John has spent so long as the younger brother, he has to get his kicks where he can. That said, nobody better say anything rude to you. Ever. One time, a mate of his simply repeated a mean name he had called you and John slugged him for it. Nobody is allowed to annoy you but him. John is obnoxious in an almost biblical sense, but he is the one to see you cry and ask: “Who did that to you.”
Ada
Older Sister:
Yet another sibling to boss her around. Excellent! Ada is one who would resist you trying to take care of her. She doesn’t want to hear your advice! She doesn’t need it! Until her first heartbreak and then she’s sobbing on your bed waiting for you to come home. Ada hates to feel dependent on others, but she does trust you. There’s something special about having a sister. You understand each other in a way your brothers never will. The fear that builds as a man walks a few yards behind you out in the streets at night. How every romance has that bitter taste as you think about all that you’ll lose if you were to get married. Ada gets her best advice from you, but you’re also her security. You were probably the one to start taking her to the movie theater. It’s likely that Ada imitates you subconsciously. When you got your hair bobbed, so did Ada. When you started wearing heels, so did Ada. She denies it, but it’s obvious that she follows your lead.
Younger Sister:
Might be a sad thing to say, but Ada didn’t think much of you until she had Karl. You were just this clinging little sister that everyone thought she was supposed to take care of. All you did was follow her about town and put your nose where it didn’t belong. Tommy probably found out about her and Freddie through you. You don’t mean to be annoying, you’re just lonely. Ada couldn’t see that until she had a child and a home away from Small Heath. The dynamic flips hard when Ada comes back to Small Heath. Ada is all about leading you in “the right direction,” and is very serious about your education. She essentially begs Tommy to set aside money for you to go to university when you express interest. You want to be in with the Peaky Blinders, though. Oh, God. You’re in your rebellious phase and Ada wants to shake you till you forget all about jazz and pretty boys with guns. You both adore each other, but you butt heads over where your life is going and who should have a say in what direction it goes.
Finn
Older Sister:
Between you, Polly and Ada, he’s almost got a mother. As a young boy, Finn has actually called for you as his mother by accident. It makes sense. You were often left in charge of him. To Finn, you are all that he knows. It’s often left to you to make sure he goes to school and stays out of trouble. You’ve spent many afternoons arguing with his teachers to give him a second chance. Finn needs that, someone to stick up for him. That doesn’t mean he always likes it though. Finn wants to be a gangster, like his older brothers. You want him to do literally anything but that. When Tommy, Arthur, and John, pick on him too much you are the one to back Finn up. He used to like it… until he was roughly twelve. What used to be you coming to his rescue has become you inadvertently humiliating him. You try to back off, but Finn makes poor choices for himself which require you to come save him. Therefore, the cycle continues.
Younger Sister:
You are the only one beneath him in the Shelby Family Pecking Order, and he lives for it. When Finn has a bad day, he takes it out on you. Why not? It isn’t like he had anyone else he can push around and be the boss of. So, he’ll cut your dolls’ hair, call you names, and make fun of the things you like. But only if there’s other boys who can see him do it. When he goes too far and you cry, he has to answer to all of your siblings and Polly. Finn picks on you to soothe his own ego. When it’s just you and Finn, he’s very quiet. You two can spend hours not talking but be perfectly happy. Finn likes to turn on the radio and just sit, listening to music or the results of a boxing match. Sometimes, he vents to you about how Tommy wouldn’t let him do this or do that. You always listen to him. Finn usually takes these quiet times to apologize for past pranks or insults. You always forgive him. It’s odd to you how your accepting of his apology seldom puts him in a better mood. Truth is, he’s very jealous of you.
#peaky blinders#thomas shelby#peaky blinders x reader#arthur shelby#peaky blinders headcanon#john shelby#ada shelby#ada thorne#finn shelby#peaky blinders x you#peaky blinders imagine#platonic
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How Halsin’s “once you get to my age” conversation not long after he finally recruited as a party member SHOULD have gone if you were an elf and could call him out on not being old.
Because as a drow my Tav should be allowed to call him out and tease him over it
(My Tav, but written pretty generically and without any gender indicators for Tav so knock yourself out)
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“You didn’t answer the part about lovers” you say as you fold your arms. Halsin held a certain level of fascination to you. Maybe it was his sheer size, maybe it was his confidence, or his willingness to just listen. Maybe it was because you truly could not get a read on him.
He had been frustratingly dodging most questions about himself until now, softly smiling and telling you ‘there will be time for questions later. I must keep my focus on the task at hand’ and now somehow managed to tell you an incredible amount and nothing at all at the same time.
“I’m 350 years old. Of course there have been lovers. Just because I love nature doesn’t mean I’m betrothed to it. Though sometimes, nature needs reminding…” he trailed off.
Another redirection, talks of the past while not acknowledging that the question was about the current and offering an interesting tidbit instead. You recognized what he was trying to do, but unfortunately his smirk while speaking about nature alluded to an all too good to pass up story.
“Hold on- nature needs reminding of what exactly?” you ask.
“Well, I didn’t pick this scar up in battle. I was in wildshape, only I forgot it was the season when bears are particularly social. A she-bear claimed me as her own- and did not appreciate being spurned” he said.
Less riveting than you hoped, but still interesting. And certainly not enough to convince you to drop the question.
“Don’t leave me hanging- is there someone in your life right now?” Simple. Direct. Surely no way to dodge it again.
“Right now? I bed down alone, I’m afraid” he answers. There’s a small drop in his voice, not sorrow, but, disappointment?“Perhaps once I talk less of curses and parasites, my fortunes will improve”.
It was not quite the answer you were expecting. A clear answer this time, but something in the way his words hung in the air felt off.
You look over his face, searching for some glimmer of information but are met with the same relaxed but stoic expression he used when he was done talking about a subject.
“Tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t even think to ask” you change the subject, hoping to find any bit of interesting information from him.
“Hmm, I suppose you wouldn’t be shocked to learn I love animals and nature? I know, I know; well-trodden territory. Well, let’s see… I whittle in my spare time, and I’ve something of a sweet tooth- though everyone’s very amused when I say I like honey”.
A smile plays on your lips, you genuinely could not tell if he was avoiding saying much and choosing to give you obvious answers purposefully or not.
“Whittling? What do you make?” you ask, fishing for anything you could.
“Ornaments, utensils- and ducks. I like ducks”.
New information gained and yet nothing new truly learned.
“So you turn into a bear and you like honey?” you repeat back to him, “A little on the nose”.
“I like what I like. Once you get to my age you realize there’s little point in denying yourself, so long as other’s aren’t affected” Halsin replies.
“Your age?” you laugh, in the grand scheme of elven lives Halsin was young still, only a few decades older than yourself despite speaking as if he was at least 800. “And how old do you think I am?”
Halsin flashed a quick smile, brief but betraying a lot of emotion. The sort guilty smile you offer when you’re caught.
“My apologies. I don’t encounter too many full elves these days” his face relaxes, not his usual careful composure, but a true relaxation. “No, I supposed 350 is young still, and sometimes I need reminding of that too. You get used to seeing life on the scale that the others see. People treat you as old and you start to believe it, or at least you let them make their assumptions about you”.
“So ‘old, wise Halsin’ is an act?” you tease.
“I am wise!” he laughs, a truly deep laugh that rumbled from his chest. A laugh that spreads into a sense of warmth within you. “If I wasn’t then you wouldn’t have come to my grove seeking my knowledge and skills!”
“I was told to seek out the old, wise archdruid of the the grove and imagine my surprise seeing an elf, only decades older than myself acting as if he was as least twice his age!” You laughed back, unable to keep his laughter from spreading to you. “Though I suppose I can keep quiet and let you continue this front, if you can keep up with me, old man, because I very much so am still young” you tease.
“You’ll find I’m more than able to keep up with anything you’ve got, don’t let me fool you into thinking my size is just for show. I think you’ll find I’m more than capable of going all day and night” the tone that crept into his voice let you know that he very much knew why you were asking if he currently had a lover earlier.
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I can't be everywhere (No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader) ANGST! Part 2
Summary: You knew Joel was a busy man, but you never thought that when you needed him most you would hear, "I can't be everywhere." As if your pain meant nothing. So you decided that you couldn't be everywhere either… You couldn't be in his heart anymore.
Warnings: ANGST, miscarriage, misunderstanding, loss, mourning, broken heart, age gap (17 years), Joel is 45, depression, Joel tries hard, but… He can't show his true emotions…
Part 2
Joel had no self-confidence. He knew it. He might have played the tough guy, but he knew the truth. He was afraid of relationships.
Sarah's mother left such a huge hole in his heart that for a long time, he was unable to establish normal relationships with women. At first, he thought it was better this way. He focused on raising his daughter.
Joel was selfish. He hid it behind the statement that he had to care for his daughter and help his brother. But he knew the truth. He did what was comfortable for him and didn't think about the feelings of the other women. He started dating women when Sarah was older and needed less attention.
He selfishly used women to satisfy his needs. Most often they were short-lived affairs for him. Sometimes just for one night. He didn't give any woman false hopes for something more serious, so he had no remorse.
He stayed longer with a woman named Tess. But only because he was comfortable with her. Tess was younger than him, but not as significantly as you. She was in a similar situation to Joel. She was a divorcee, raised a teenage son on her own, had her own business, and worked hard. And this arrangement seemed perfect to him. He saw Tess whenever he needed to. Sometimes he stayed overnight with her, and sometimes she stayed with him. They were together, although neither of them planned to make it official. And then suddenly it fell apart… And two months later he met you.
At first, he tried to stay away from you. However, he couldn't help but glance at you. There was something attractive about you. He saw how you treated other people with kindness. He noticed that despite your young age, you were very responsible and weren't the party type. And he loved your laugh. God, how he loved your laugh. He could be busy drilling holes and he would still recognize your laughter. Even Tommy noticed that his brother had a crush on you and casually told Joel one day.
"Her name is Y/N and if I understand correctly, she is single."
Joel looked at him in surprise and grunted, "So what? I don't care."
"Yeah, sure… I'm just saying."
Two weeks later, he saved you when you locked yourself in the bathroom and he was able to say your name out loud for the first time. And when he looked into your beautiful eyes that looked at him with gratitude, he felt like a knight who saved the princess and then it happened…
Joel Miller fell in love… And he really wanted to be with you. Being with you was like a breath of fresh air to him. He felt younger around you, and at the same time, he didn't feel any pressure from you to be someone else. He saw that you fully accepted him and he was happy. So much so that he wanted to have you even closer to him. He wanted to see you every morning and evening.
And you were so sweet to him. Before he knew it, he was already used to home-cooked meals, your massages, and shared showers. And he was selfish again. He didn't notice that he was taking away your youth, that he was turning you into a housewife. He told himself that's what you wanted.
He stopped thanking you for dinners and all the other little things you did for him. He thought it was a part of you.
Everything was going perfectly. Everything was set and stable and Joel wanted nothing more and that was the problem.
Joel didn't want to change ANYTHING.
So the news of your pregnancy turned his sense of stability upside down. After all, he was a responsible man, so he wasn't going to abandon you. But he couldn't drive away the shadows that appeared around him. Even though he didn't show it to you, he was panicking. And for many reasons. He knew that the baby would change everything, that HE would have to change. But he didn't know if he would be able to. He was also worried that having a child would be too much for you, even though he saw that you weren't like Sarah's mother. He was worried about money, about your health, about… So many things that he just couldn't feel joy.
He knew that avoiding you was stupid and that it wouldn't change anything. He had to come to terms with the idea of becoming a dad for the second time. He didn't want to let you down, and yet he didn't know how to change.
The day you called him to tell him your belly hurt, he felt a twinge of fear. When you finished talking, he felt guilty. What if his dislike for this child and lack of joy caused a curse?
He even stopped the car on the side of the road and considered turning around, but…
Joel Miller was a coward and decided to distort reality. He figured that if he didn't turn back, nothing bad would happen. And then everything got even worse. He was distracted and left his phone in the car. When Tommy asked him for car keys because he wanted to go pick up some building supplies, Joel didn't think twice.
Only later did he realize his stupidity. You might want to contact him. When Tommy finally returned, Joel immediately checked his phone. Three missed calls from you and one text message… The content of the message was etched in his chest. He had to lean on the car to keep from falling over.
His brother's voice seemed muffled.
"Jo… Bro, what happened?"
When he could finally take a deeper breath, he croaked.
"Y/N is in the hospital… I think it's about the baby…"
Tommy sighed heavily, not sure how to react. He saw how reluctant Joel was to the idea of having another child, but he hoped that his brother would come to his senses and change his mind, but it was too late.
"You should go to her."
"She definitely hates me."
Tommy snorted and grabbed his brother's arm.
"Sometimes I can't believe you're the older one. Even if she hates you now, your ass should be in the hospital… It was your baby too!"
Joel took a step back and felt the sting of tears in his eyes.
"I know…"
His brother softened a bit.
"Shall I take you to her?"
He shook his head and gripped his keys tighter, then got into the car. All the way to the hospital he kept telling himself that he had to be strong. He wanted to be your support, but… The moment he saw you in the hospital bed… So vulnerable, dressed in a terrible salmon hospital gown, his heart sank. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve all this suffering and an asshole boyfriend like him. He felt like he let you down. Instead of focusing on your suffering, he fell into self-blame.
So when you woke up, he didn't know what to do. He thought that just hugging you would be enough. He hoped this gesture would let you know how sorry he was. But Joel was a fool.
And when you asked, "Why weren't you with me?" he felt as if all his worst fears had come true.
You hated him. It was obvious. He left you when you needed him the most. He felt like he was going to fall apart and start crying like a baby. So he did what he always did when he felt like this, he put on a tough guy pose and answered back with the sentence that hurt you so much.
"I can't be everywhere."
And, the moment those words left his mouth, he realized how he had screwed up. How could he be such an asshole to blame you? But he couldn't take it back. When you said you wanted to sleep, he thought it was the perfect excuse to retreat and run away.
Joel Miller was selfish again. He wanted to protect his heart and his feelings without understanding how much he hurt you. But when he returned home, he felt empty… He walked into the bedroom on heavy legs, and when he saw a blood stain on the sheet, he fell apart. He fell to the floor and started crying like a baby.
How could he do this to you? He didn't deserve you, your kindness and love, but he couldn't let go of you. When he calmed down, he decided to clean up and then he had a brilliant idea. He decided that the best way to survive this crisis was to downplay the significance of the tragedy. Yes. He decided that he needed to help you get back to normal life as soon as possible. There was no point in despairing any longer.
A tragedy had befallen you, but he couldn't change anything.
The problem was that his plan didn't work. For the next few days, he was only met with your indifference. No matter how nice he was, you didn't respond in any way. His idealized relationship disappeared like a mirage. There were no more warm dinners, sweet kisses, and joyful smiles.
When he saw you lying on the couch, eyes glued to the TV, he felt guilt consume him. He even started to want you to react in any way. He would even prefer you to scream at him, throw plates at him, cry, but… You were just like a ghost. A ghost that haunted him and reminded him of how he had screwed up.
When he came home and didn't see you on the couch, he was naively happy at first. He thought you were finally feeling better. Maybe you were reading a book in the bedroom and waiting for him… Or taking a shower… Then it slowly dawned on him that something was wrong. It was too empty and too quiet.
"Y/N!"
Joel looked into the bedroom, the bathroom, and even to Sarah's room.
"Y/N, baby, where are you?!"
He finally walked into the kitchen and found a note from you. He read it once… Second, third… Tenth time… And he didn't understand anything. He felt like you had ripped his heart out. First, he felt anger and even thoughts appeared in his mind: Well, let her go…
But it quickly disappeared…
He started to panic because he suddenly realized how much he loved you. He took out his phone and tried to call you, but you didn't answer. He tried again and again…
Finally, with trembling hands, he texted you:
'Babe… I know I deserve it and that you're hurt, but please, at least write that you're okay. I want you to be safe… I love you.'
He didn't even care that his message sounded desperate. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't ashamed to admit his feelings. He took a bottle of beer and sat on the couch with a piece of paper in his hand. He focused on the words: … for a while.
He clung to these few words so tightly that he didn't want to pay attention to the rest. He wanted to cling to the hope that it wasn't too late… He wanted to believe that you would come back to him, after some time…
*
It was a long drive from Austin to Florida, so halfway you decided to stop and sleep at a motel. You even started to regret not taking the plane, but you were so desperate that you couldn't think straight. When you threw yourself on the crappy bed with a groan, you decided to check your phone. Throughout the trip, you consistently ignored checking to see if Joel had called you. When you saw a few calls from him and a text message, it made you feel better on one hand. At least he was thinking about you. When you read his message, you were shocked. It didn't sound like, Joel… Did he realize his mistake? But on the other hand, it also sounded a bit infantile, as if you had argued over something trivial, and not lost a child.
But you knew it would be unrealistic to expect a long essay from someone like Joel. He just wasn't that type.
You sighed and rolled onto your back, your phone raised above your head. Part of you wanted to be mean and not text him back. You wanted to leave him in suspense, but… It just wasn't fair. You believed his concern for you in that moment was genuine.
So you bit your lip and replied:
'I'm okay.'
Almost immediately, your phone started ringing. You rejected Joel's call and in half a minute there was another message.
'Where are you? Can we talk?'
You snorted and were about to use obscene words, but you stayed calm.
'On the way to Florida. I don't want to talk.'
*
Joel's heart trembled when he read your message. Florida?! It almost sounded like the North Pole. He was counting on you being somewhere closer, that he could just get in the car and drive to you. His hands began to shake as he wrote another message. Although he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
'For how long?'
When he got your answer, he felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water on him.
'I don't know, for a month, for two… forever.'
He felt like screaming. He was angry with you. Yes, he knew he was the one who screwed up, but if you had at least let him talk to you. He decided to approach you from a slightly different angle and let some of his anger flow out of him.
'What about your job, what about our lives, what about your things… Everything?'
*
You groaned in annoyance when you saw his message. This is cold old Joel who calculates everything. As if emotions played no role. You waited a few minutes and sent him another message.
'I can do my job remotely, and if not, I will find a new one. Apparently, only I cared about our life together. And my things… You can pack them up and throw them in the basement!'
Then you put your head under the pillow and turned off your phone. You had enough.
*
Joel sighed deeply as he read your message and realized that he had screwed up again. He just didn't know what he was doing wrong… How could he fix it?
He went to the bedroom and grabbed your sweatshirt from the locker. Then he lay down on the bed and pressed his nose into the soft material. He certainly wasn't going to throw your stuff into the basement. Your things were the last thing that gave him hope that he wasn't completely alone because of him acting like a dick.
*
When you reached your friend, Maddie, you felt a sense of relief… Momentary peace. For a moment, it seemed as if all the bad things were behind you. All the pain, suffering, and loss no longer affected you, but that was just an illusion. When Maddie hugged you and told you she was sorry for your loss, you broke down and started crying. No matter how much you tried to downplay your loss, it hurt just as much as it did in the hospital when Joel left you.
Once you calmed yourself, you two sat down together on the floor in her living room and opened a bottle of wine. You started talking. You could finally let it all out. At one point Maddie said:
"God… What a terrible guy! That's what it's like with these older guys. They expect…"
"Do not say that!"
Your outburst of anger surprised both you and her.
"What?"
You took a long sip of wine and tried to hold back the tears.
"Joel is not a monster… Yes, he let me down and… Maybe our relationship isn't perfect, but… Our relationship wasn't just a failure. When he held me in his arms when we cuddled on the couch… Life with him was pleasant and his age didn't change that…"
You couldn't stop crying anymore and the first tears rolled down your cheeks. Maddie frowned and muttered.
"You… Do you still love him?"
You closed your eyes and sighed heavily. It was obvious. You couldn't just kill this love.
"Yes," you whispered.
"And yet you left him."
You opened your eyes and your friend saw deep pain.
"It's just… Sometimes you can't be everywhere."
*
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fanfiction#angst#its so sad#tlou fic
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