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urprettylittlething · 6 months

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In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please <3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple.

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe.

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones.

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm.

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours?

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened.

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount.

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag.

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly.

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable.

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start.

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again.

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure.

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit.

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy.

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store.

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic.

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard.

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her.

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone.

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her.

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps.

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax.

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge.

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there.

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc.

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention.

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside.

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside.

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door.

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together.

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them.

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation.

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.”

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching.

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.”

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent.

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present.

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly.

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle.

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm.

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them.

Wherever it was, it was concerning.

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway.

1, 2.

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest.

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door.

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door.

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could.

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down.

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever.

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway.

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious.

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside.

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair.

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry.

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality.

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps.

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble.

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing.

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling.

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her.

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps.

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds.

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with.

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air.

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’.

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief.

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind.

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her.

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time.

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known.

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators.

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns, or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones.

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed.

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her.

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror.

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through.

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him.

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling.

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle.

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles.

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need.

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed.

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her.

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well.

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds.

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response.

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it.

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time.

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey.

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader

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michelle-is-writing · 1 month

Text

Wedding Mornings, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.2k~

As a child, I always wondered if I would ever find the right person for me. Having no luck to find such a person as a teenager, I ended up wondering if I would even find a husband, better yet, my soul mate. In years to come, I would start to believe that I would be alone forever.

However, once I moved to Washington DC and found a job at the Melvin Gelvin library, I soon befriended a man that visited there a lot. I had seen him in the research section before, but he never came up to my desk for help. I thought he was cute, in all honesty, but I didn't want to come off as too confident and go up to him to see if he needed help when I never did that with anyone else in the library.

So, the one day he did come up to me and ask me where to find a book I had seen him take out many times, I smiled and nodded before helping him find the book. He was nervous asking me his question, and I couldn't help but be a little nervous as well. Although, once we found the encyclopedia for Philosophy, he introduced himself as Spencer Reid, and I couldn't help but rejoice as my name fell from my lips in return. Finally, I got to learn the name of the man who I had shared glances with so many times, yet, we never interacted - up until then.

After that, it felt like a free-game. Anytime Spencer came into the library, he was asking me for books that I knew very well he was aware of where they would be. In spite of this, I always helped him, and after he checked out the third book I had seen him read many times before, Spencer finally asked me out for coffee.

Unfortunately, our date kept getting postponed because of Spencer's job. At first, I thought he was backing out in regret since it had already taken him so long to ask me out in first place. However, once we did go on that date, I discovered that that wasn't even a tiny fraction as to why he kept rescheduling. As soon as I found out that Spencer held such a huge responsibility with a job that relied on him to capture mass murderers and kidnappers, I found myself in complete admiration for him. Not to mention the fact that all of the science books he had been checking out weren't for class or education - he already earned his degrees in those fields beforehand.

Now that I have a dazzling ring on my finger, I'm even happier that I was patient in waiting for Spencer to finally make it to our date. I knew how long I waited for that coffee shop date he promised - six-whole-weeks. However, I never knew how long I was waiting for a man like Spencer to make his way into my life until I found out how much I truly loved him. Through saying those three words that are often said too much, I discovered that I had waited my entire life to find Spencer, and when he proposed to me in Rossi's garden one late night, I found out that Spencer truly felt the same way.

Soon enough, the months before our wedding slowly passed until the brightest week of our lives came up, and once that started, it was like everything was going at twice the speed it should have been going. All of my bridesmaids (JJ, Emily, (f/n), and Penelope) ran around like chickens with their heads cut off while Spencer's groomsmen (Derek, Aaron, and Rossi) did the same. Even during the morning of my wedding, everyone was running around to get things done while I just stayed in my bride's quarter's kitchen and did the same thing I did every other morning.

"I'm just saying," Penelope starts, watching as I pour freshly made coffee into a mug for Spencer. "It's bad luck for a groom to see the bride before the wedding!" She reminds me, causing me to smile.

"I thought that was only if the bride was wearing her dress," I point out, adding more sugar than actual coffee into the mug. "And, besides," I add, giving the coffee one last stir before placing the spoon down on the counter. I have no idea how Spencer can drink this stuff with nearly half of the mug filled with sugar.

Turning toward Penelope with the steaming mug in hand, my eyes quickly catch onto the expertly made bouquet in her hands, every flower I wanted beautifully bundled together with a gorgeous (f/c) bow wrapped around the stems. How is she so good at any creative thing she does?

"I've made Spencer his coffee every morning since our first day living together, Pen," I tell her, smiling as I think about the fond memory. Sometimes he'll make me a cup too if I haven't done so myself. "I don't want to miss a day because of some old, wise tale that's probably been taken out of its original context," I add, slightly smirking as I know that's the truth. Once the words leave my mouth, Penelope can't resist the smile the makes it's way onto her lips as she shakes her head.

"Well, I don't think anything I say is going to stop you," She notes, earning a head nod back from me. She's right. Nothing is going to make me halt in my actions of bringing Spencer his coffee - not even a silly little fairytale.

Heading out of the hotel room in only my silk pajamas that match the rest of the girls' clothes, I find myself walking across the hall with my heart pounding in my chest. It's strange to just now realize that today is the official start of my forever. It's a fantastic feeling, but at the same time, it's giving me a high that I feel like I can't come down from. It's a dangerous, yet blissful thing.

Just as I round the corner to walk to the other end of the hall, my eyes quickly catch onto a familiar figure leaving his hotel room. There's no way I could ever forget those brunet curls or the slender body of the man I love. Although, what is a bit odd is that he's currently carrying a coffee mug of his own. I guess he didn't think that I'd stick to what we've always done.

"Good morning, handsome," I greet Spencer, causing him to lightly jump before turning around and seeing me. Once his eyes land on my pajama covered figure, he visibly calms down with a small sigh and smile.

"I wanted to go and see you, but the guys wouldn't let me. So, I had to sneak out," Spencer explains with a shake of his head, making me laugh. Just as I do that, Spencer's whole demeanor changes as if he's softening up. His tense shoulders loosen while his posture relaxes a bit, another sigh leaving his slightly smiling lips as he does so. He looks calmer than any other time I can remember.

"You... you look amazing," he compliments me, causing me to blush with a wide smile. My hair is an absolute mess right now, a majority of it up in a clip as I haven't brushed it yet. Not to mention my face doesn't even have a touch of makeup on it and I'm still in pajamas - there's nothing about me that says "amazing" right now. I don't know how Spencer can say such things.

"Thank you, baby," I tell him, taking a few steps forward before planting a kiss to his cheek. Despite today being the day of our wedding, Spencer's cheeks turn to light pink in response to my lips touching them as they always do, and I can't help but smile as I see the rose color take over his skin. Despite what some people say, I truly believe there's a good chance it will always be this way.

"I made you coffee for this morning," I tell him, gesturing to the steaming mug in my hand. "But I didn't know you made your own already," I further add, watching as the corner of Spencer's lip quirks up. Is he surprised that I would do this?

"Actually," he starts, holding the cup out to me. "I made this for you - that's why I was heading out of the room so I could go and give it to you," Spencer explains, trading mugs with me as a bright smile takes over his face. "I'm glad that we both had the same idea."

Smiling back, I nod before taking a sip from the cup of coffee Spencer made me, Spencer following in suit with the cup that I made him. We both let out a small, satisfied groan as the taste of coffee reaches our lips.

"You always manage to make my coffee perfect," Spencer points out, making my heart clench. He's so adorable, and he doesn't even realize it.

"And I'll never forget it, love, not for a long time," I tell him, leaning closer to kiss his cheek. However, before I can do so, Spencer takes the chance to wrap his free arm around me and pull me against him. Now satisfied, Spencer gives off a small hum before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. In his arms, I feel the happiest I've felt this morning, and with the events of today being added in, I am more than ecstatic right now. Making coffee for Spencer every morning for the rest of my life is only a small fraction of what our marriage is going to be, and I can't help but look forward to doing it.

"I'm so glad we're doing this," Spencer confesses, pulling away from my lips to rest his nose against mine. Smiling, I gently sigh as I feel his hand on my waist sliding underneath my pajama top and onto my skin. His touch is so gentle that I could almost mistake it for a cloud touching me. "I've waited so long for this."

"I wish we would've done it sooner," I admit, nuzzling the side of my face into Spencer's soft sleep shirt. "Then I could've been Mrs. Reid for a long time now," I point out, turning my eyes up to the smiling man holding me.

"I do like the sound of that," Spencer murmurs, smirking as he leans farther down to press his lips to my neck. "Misses Reid," He slowly says my new title, each syllable rolling off his tongue smoothly. Even before we were engaged, he would jokingly call me that, but now that I'm actually Mrs. Reid, my love for the name has only grown.

With that, Spencer and I connect our lips in another sweet kiss while holding each other close. In his arms, I feel the warmest and happiest I have ever been. Nothing could ruin this moment between us. It's simply too perfect.

"Stop making out in the hallway! You'll be doing enough of that later!" A stern voice interrupts us, causing Spencer and me to look over to the hotel room door he stepped out of a few seconds ago. Hanging out of the empty doorway is Derek who's smirking with an accusing eyebrow. "Isn't it bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?"

"Actually, Derek, it's only bad luck if-" Spencer argues Derek just as another voice cuts in.

"What are you two doing?!" A shout sounds throughout the hall, the tone full of Penelope Garcia's typical sassiness. Immediately, both of our heads shoot toward the end of the hall where the spunky blonde stomps toward us. "What have you two been doing?!"

"Derek, help us," I beg, turning my head back to Spencer's best man. Instead of doing what I actually asked, Derek laughs and shakes his head while holding his hands up.

"Oh no," he starts, "I'm not suffering at the hands of the woman behind you."

"Yeah," Penelope states, matter-of-factly. "I would be scared too if I were you, missy," just as soon as the words leave her lips, Penelope puts her hand on my arm and practically drags me out of Spencer's arms while Derek does the same to Spencer, both mindful of the mugs in our hands.

"You can see your beautiful bride in a couple of hours," Derek assures my soon-to-be-husband while he gives me one last kiss. As soon as his lips touch mine, I realize this is the last kiss before the one kiss we get to share that marks our forever with each other. Plus, I have no doubt that our friends will be cheering and teasing us as we do so - just like Derek and Penelope do right now. Just at the single thought, I can hardly wait.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #Spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 1 month

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why are people so against oliver and ryan talking about buddie, don't we want this, don't we want buddie to be canon? i'm sorry are we rooting for buck to end up with tommy or something, like I don't understand why so many people are saying stop asking them about buddie?

If we want Buddie then shouldn't we be asking buddie questions? I mean I'm so sorry but I'm just very confused, shouldn't we be happy that buddie is getting this much press and love? Why are we against it?

Okay, this is going to be a long one.

There are a few reasons why people are concerned about publications teasing Buddie happening and using the ship name and asking Oliver and Ryan about the ship. I'll try to be as concise as possible.

I would like to note, I'm not going to answer a bunch of questions about this. Other people have answered similar questions plenty of times, if you take a bit to look around 911blr. I'm sure @catdadeddie has gone into this a few times.

However, I understand that we are getting a lot of new fans this season, and so I want to try and explain comprehensively for those who haven't been around. I hope this covers everything.

Whenever a ship is between two people of the same gender as opposed to two people of the opposite gender (I know, I know, but we can't get into the gender spectrum right now just play along with me), everyone involved has to be very, very careful when it comes to talking about that ship ahead of said ship going canon.

It is very easy to slip into something called "queerbaiting." I'm assuming that you and most people online and in fandom by now have heard of this term but just in case: queerbaiting is when a show acts like a queer ship might happen in marketing and promotion in order to draw in a queer audience.

Historically, this was done by having a main character played by a woman have a romantic thing with another woman (flirting, even kissing!) who was a guest star, hinting at the main character's bisexuality/queerness, only for that guest star to never come back and for the show to act like it had never happened. This was done during something called, IIRC, "sweeps week" which was basically an important week for TV viewer ratings in the 90s. It was a way to boost your numbers by drawing in queer viewers with the promise of actual queer rep that then wasn't realized. It's a marketing tactic.

Nowadays the nature of queerbaiting has changed a bit. It's an overused term that frankly people love to (mis)use whenever a ship of theirs doesn't go canon and a show dares to do things like having two people (like say Ryan and Oliver) who play the two halves of the ship do an interview together (whether you ship Buddie or not, they are close friends, and it makes sense that they'd do a few interviews together - that is not queerbaiting). A good example of real queerbaiting is Rizzoli & Isles which, among other things, took out billboards and magazine spreads showing the characters (two women) in suggestively sexual and romantic positions and with slogans hinting that the two had more than just friendship together, then never, ever delivered on it and in fact laughed at the idea of the characters being gay for each other.

(I WAS THERE, GANDALF!!!)

Because of this unfortunate treatment of queer audiences and the (historic) dearth of actual queer characters and queer ships going canon (it's getting better but still), networks, showrunners, and so on have to be very careful when, say, they want to make a queer ship canon.

Look at how ABC handled Chenford, a popular ship in their show The Rookie. Chenford was not a planned ship - the fans adored the chemistry between the two characters (Lucy Chen and Tim Bradford), the writers liked the idea and decided to lean into it, ABC gave the go-ahead, and the ship officially got together and went canon last season. ABC heavily promoted Chenford and the ship and made a lot of jokes about it in the last couple of seasons leading into the ship going canon, using the ship heavily in their marketing.

ABC cannot necessarily do that with Buddie, because even if Buddie is going canon, until that happens, they could get accused of queerbaiting. There's a much bigger minefield to navigate because of this historic misuse of queer audiences and queer characters.

So whenever journalists and publications use a popular non-canonical queer ship name for clicks and fandom interest, if that ship doesn't immediately go canon or if the network/showrunner/etc doesn't say "yeah they're totally gonna kiss! with tongue!" people accuse the show of queerbaiting. This is unfair to the show for two reasons: one, the network is not going to bother sending "shut the fuck up" letters to every single damn publication out there for using a ship name in their headline and talking about a ship - they'll be accused of homophobia and it draws even MORE attention to the issue re: the Barbra Streisand effect (look it up); and two, the people involved in the show are NOT going to spoil the anticipation and surprise by admitting ANY ship is going to go canon before it does.

This is simple marketing - the movie trailer doesn't (or shouldn't, anyway) show you the ending of the movie or everything that happens in it. TV shows want you to tune in every week and speculate and guess. They're not gonna spoil a ship ahead of time.

This means that when journalists and articles pull this shit, they're putting the showrunner, the writers, the actors doing interviews, and the network in a bad situation that they can't really do anything about. Not without causing more mess.

So that's reason number one why a lot of us are annoyed: by yelling about Buddie, these articles and journalists are setting the cast and crew we love up to get yelled at for queerbaiting if Buddie doesn't immediately happen, and there's nothing the cast and crew can do about it, and it's all so the journalists and articles can use us, the fandom, for clicks. So we're also kinda getting used here, and it doesn't feel great.

The second reason we're annoyed about Buddie questions is that it's being asked of the actors who, nine times out of ten, have ZERO CONTROL OVER THE STORYLINES.

Now, there are exceptions. Jennifer Love Hewitt, who plays Maddie, has pushed back on a couple storylines that were given to her and has therefore had a strong hand in shaping Maddie's character. One infamous (in a positive way) example is that Maddie and Eddie were supposed to be an endgame couple. JLH, however, immediately loved the character of Chimney and clicked with Chim's actor Kenneth Choi, so she asked if Maddie could get with Chim instead, feeling he'd be a better fit for her character. And lo, both the beautiful ship Madney and the insanity that is Buddie shipping was born because Buck ended up stepping into that co-parenting-Chris role that Maddie obviously would've originally filled.

However, it should be noted that JLH was an established star before coming onto 9-1-1, and her husband is friends with Tim the showrunner. I would argue that the only other two actors who have any power on their storylines are Peter and Angela, the latter because she can do whatever she wants forever, and the former because (like Angela) he is an executive producer on the show.

It's not that actors never ever get to have a say ever, but the writers, showrunner, and network have much more power. They create the storylines, they make the decisions. Not actors. So when the actors are repeatedly asked about a ship, they're put in an awkward position where they might not even know the full storyline for their character that season and now they need to answer in a way that doesn't reveal any information they do know, but also doesn't insult shippers or dash their hopes. This is a double minefield for queer ships because, again: historic insults to queer fans and characters, nobody wants to be offensive.

The third reason is that this fandom has, historically, treated Tim, Oliver, and others like absolute dogshit over Buddie not going canon. Oliver's left Twitter and taken big social media breaks because of how he was yelled at online. It's not cool, guys. Vent all you want but directing it at the cast and crew isn't okay and maybe if it was just you talking sternly that would be fine (maybe) but when it's dozens of people? It's bullying. Full stop.

Every single time Buddie has not gone canon instantly, the actors and others have gotten verbally abused on social media. Every time the actors have been asked about Buddie and not said "ohmygod yes I want it to happen so bad" (they are not allowed to say this because it might create false hope because again: historical queerbaiting) they've gotten yelled at. We are tired of the actors getting yelled at over something over which they have no control.

The fourth reason is that Oliver, especially, has gotten asked about Buddie a LOT. A lot. The poor man is very tired. He's been cornered about Buddie and asked about it aggressively by certain journalists (one journalist, Max Gao, actually tried to corner Gavin who plays Chris over Buddie - this was a few years ago so Gavin was even younger than he is now and I personally think that is an incredibly unfairly loaded question to give to a child).

If I may dive into speculation for a moment, given how the actors have been SO gleeful about the move to ABC, the fact that they've admitted ABC is letting them do storylines and little moments that FOX wouldn't, and a few other things I won't get into here because this damn thing is long enough already... I suspect FOX would not let Buddie happen. If this is the case, then actors being asked about Buddie is even more loaded because they are being asked questions about it and they can't say "yeah we want to but the network won't let us." THEY WILL GET FIRED FOR THIS.

But, whether or not my speculation is true, the fact remains that when you are repeatedly, over and over, aggressively asked if this fan ship is going to happen or not, you get tired. There's only so many times that someone can give a diplomatic answer before you just want to snap "stop fucking asking me!" Journalists love to take advantage of fandom and social media chatter to get attention for their articles so asking over and over again about Buddie isn't because they genuinely care or think it'll happen, it's to get shippers reading their article, and so bombarding the actors and writers with this question when they've already kinda said their peace a lot about it is frustrating. Just! Leave them alone!

And AGAIN: if this was a M/F ship there could maybe be room for teasing the will-they-won't-they but because of historically bad treatment of queer characters and fans, THEY CANNOT DO THAT. So the only option open to them is to KEEP THEIR MOUTHS SHUT. And keeping one's mouth shut and threading that diplomatic needle for years is EXHAUSTING.

We do want Buddie to be canon, nonny, and in my opinion we are going to get it. All this recent PR supports that, (again: in my opinion).

However, we have seen Oliver get bombarded with what he thinks about Buddie until the cows come home, and he deserves a break. There's nothing new he can say, there's nothing new he's allowed to say. We have seen other parts of the fandom scream that we're being queerbaited because Buddie didn't instantly go canon, without any consideration for the fact that a) queerbaiting is a marketing tactic and b) there might be other factors at play preventing it going canon. We have seen journalists take advantage of us, the shippers, in order to get attention, and we have seen them create an awkward and embarrassing atmosphere in interviews by repeatedly asking about the ship. We have seen shippers make us look bad by hounding the cast and crew on social media about Buddie, treating every woman actress who plays a Buck/Eddie love interest like shit (yes, I know about Edy, but she could be a saint and parts of the fandom would still go onto Instagram to call her names), and generally being absolute pills that would tempt any showrunner, actor, or writer to say "y'know what fuck 'em let's not make Buddie canon I'm not rewarding this shitty behavior."

"If we want Buddie then shouldn't we be asking Buddie questions?" No. Not like journalists and fans have been. It's something to bring up - in my opinion - sparingly and with an awareness of how queer storylines and ships and fandom have been mocked, ignored, baited, and so on over the years. They don't ask about Buddie because they give a shit. They ask because they want our clicks for their ad revenue and they want our retweets and likes and comments. And it's certainly not something to bombard the actors with on social media and bitch at them if it doesn't happen. It just makes the rest of fandom look bad and makes us look like children.

Additionally: These are not new questions! They're not only asking these questions now that it looks like Buddie will go canon, with serious hope and consideration based on the marketing and storylines. They've been asking this since season fucking two, when Buddie was clearly not planned, just to get fangirl (gn) clicks. They wanted to get attention and teehee over how Oliver/Ryan/whoever reacted to people thinking Buck and Eddie should touch dicks. 'Kay?

We know the pattern. So when every piece of media is screaming BUDDIE!!! we are not seeing it as "OMG could we go canon?" We see it as another round of being taken advantage of for article attention, another round of parts of the fandom being bullies and yelling about being baited, and another round of the actors being backed into uncomfortable corners.

That's why we're concerned, worried, and annoyed.

*collapses* I hope this covered everything and explained it all.

#mads answers things #THIS IS SO LONG OH GOD #I wouldn't know concise if it smacked me in the face #making this rebloggable for now so people can spread the information if they find it helpful/informative #but the moment there is clowning (derogatory) I'm turning reblogs OFF I do NOT have the patience #I spent an hour working on this instead of the F&F AU so like not to sound aggressive but this BETTER have answered y'all's questions LOL

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

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baby, I'm yours |older!dilf!eddie munson x pregnant!reader|

prompt: the older!dilf!eddie pregnancy smut you've been waiting for.

older!eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple go say thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

contains: pregnancy, age gap relationship, reader is thirty, Eddie is forty-six, mentions of lactation play, pregnancy sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex, 18+, MINORS DNI

Eddie fumbled around the kitchen, timer on the stove blaring as he jammed his fingers into the random buttons on the screen. He looked down his nose, eyes squinting to desperately make out the letters, but without his glasses (the ones he refused to wear because you teased him) he couldn't see anything. Wayne was right, once you hit forty-five, everything goes to shit.

A manicured finger snaked around him, hitting the button with a resounding 'beep!', ending the incessant chirping of the stove. Eddie huffed, looking at you with an irritated glare. "I told you I had it." He crossed his arms looking down at you. "You are supposed to be in the living room, relaxing."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you went to peek in the oven, Eddie's inked hand slapping over the stove before you could see. "Eddie, I'm bored." You whined, rubbing your neck. "And I'm starving. We are starving." Your hand moved down to your growing stomach, twenty-eight weeks now and already huge.

The pregnancy hadn't been an easier one. Your mom told you it was because you were having a girl, and "girls take all your beauty, steal it for themselves". She'd told you that at the gender reveal before you'd even actually revealed the gender, during a game about old wive's tales- you were nauseous, sore, tired, and didn't have the 'glow' everyone seemed to drone on about. As the weeks progressed, it only got worse.

The morning sickness dried up around your fifth month, just in time for everything to swell. For you to have hot flashes, mood swing, and acne like you hadn't had since junior high. Plus, on top of it all, Eddie couldn't keep his hands off you.

Under any other circumstances, you would have loved the extra attention. How he was constantly was pressing up against you, tender and possessive, hands on your belly, thighs, ass, anywhere really. It would have been paradise.

If you weren't so uncomfortable in your own body.

Skin that stretched uncomfortably and foreign around your own body, accommodating for the little miracle you were growing inside you. Breasts so swollen and sore where your milk was coming in. If Eddie even looked at your nippled the wrong way they pulsed, aching and sore already- you couldn't imagine how breast feeding would go, that was still up in the air if you'd do it. Ankles doubled in size, fingers too. Your back ached, low and deep in your spine.

And you were so fucking horny.

But you couldn't let Eddie know. You were sure he wouldn't ever get out of you if he knew. You'd been this way the last few weeks, whenever the morning sickness left you, and insatiable need took over you. You'd been able to use your vibrator for a while, but now with the ever growing and protruding bump, it was proving to be very difficult.

The last time you and Eddie had sex was a little over two weeks ago, and you'd still been hesitant. Your thirtieth birthday, and Eddie spent it spoiling you. Your birthday and you were carrying his baby? He went all out. Well, as much as you would let him.

"It's almost done, bunny, I promise." Eddie sighed peeking into the oven carefully. "I have a snack in the fridge. It's carrots and that weird tazinini-

"-Taziki-"

"Right that." Eddie huffed with a small eye roll. Brielle had been on him about eating healthier now that he was older. Wayne's recent heart scare had terrified her, and she was on a giant health kick- much against both of their wills.

Eddie moved to the fridge, opening it slowly and rummaging through it. "You want that? Or I could get you some of your cravings. Is Pickles wanting anything special?"

You giggled at the nickname. 'Pickles' is what you took to calling baby girl Munson for now, until you agreed on a name. You grew tired of calling her 'it' before you knew the gender, upset and emotional with how impersonal it was, so you and Eddie settled on calling her your number one pregnancy craving- Pickles.

"The carrots and dip is fine, baby, thank you." You grinned, sitting at the island. You knew Eddie would tell you to anyways, so cautious about you standing for too long.

You watched him as he made dinner, cooking and stirring, while chatting with you about his day. Things at the shop, how he went to check up on Wayne, when he talked to Brielle and when she was coming to visit, potential baby names.

You watched the way his sweat pants hung low, curly tendrils pulled back into a low pony tail with your spiraled hair tie, his salt and pepper slicks of hair by his hair line and on his temples. The sag of his sweat pants, low on his hip, soft, inked skin peeking out from his old faded t-shirt when he bent down to pick something up. Your name tatted on his rib cage, your signature with his last name.

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, mouth salivating at the sight of him. Your thighs clenched together, rubbing them softly, mind wandering back to just a few weeks ago. How filthy the two of you had been. When he sucked on your tits, teasing and flicking you, until he sucked a little too hard and your milk came in. It was debaucherous, filthy; you'd cum almost instantly from the shock and sensation of it alone.

"God, you must really be hungry." Eddie chuckled, snapping you out of your haze. You looked up at him, wide eyed and confused. He put the plated food in front of you with a grin. "Eyeing that food like you were gonna snatch it out of my hand." He teased, smacking a kiss to your cheek, hand rubbing over your belly. "Baby girl must be hungry, hm?"

You swallowed thickly, looking down at the food. It did look delicious. You were actually hungry, too. "She's starved." You grinned, moaning slightly at the warm food heating you from the inside out. "But she's so happy Daddy's taking care of us, aren't you?" You cooed down at your bump, voice lilting and rubbing a hand down your swollen abdomen.

You groaned slightly, face pinching in pain as she kicked your bladder. Somehow it was worse than the ribs she was favoring a few days ago. "She kicking?" Eddie asked, sitting next to you with his own plate.

Your face scrunched, rubbing to attempt to soothe the spot she was nailing repeatedly. "Yeah," You huffed. "I feel like this is your fault." You pouted dramatically at him.

"Me?" Eddie scoffed with a playful laugh. "What did I do? Takes two to tango, bunny."

You rolled your eyes, spearing your chicken with your fork. "I mean the kicking." You gave him an unamused glare. "Seems like a very Munson trait."

"Well, you're very Munson last I checked." Eddie teased, ticking your side gently, making you squirm. "But, you might be right." He admitted, taking a swig of his drink. "Brielle did the same thing."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Shocking." You smirked.

The dinner had continued on, small chatting, gentle touches and stolen kisses. So domestic and intimate, everything you ever dreamed of. While you watched Eddie clean up, because he insisted you sit, one hand lazily tucked away under your chin, you stared dreamily at him.

You applied your cocoa butter and bio oil mix to your stomach and back- your mom had insisted it was the best remedy for stretching skin- rolling your neck and kneading the tense skin. Eddie sat propped against the headboard when you emerged out of the bathroom, in just his boxers, reading his phone, glasses perched on his nose.

His hair was wild, unruly like it always was before bed because he'd brush out the tangles of the day. His skin on his belly was soft, tattoos faded some fresh with ink, his stubble was more outgrown these days- he'd been working more between days at the shop, taking care of Wayne, and helping you nest. You drooled at the sight of him, eyes focusing on the bulge in his faded, green briefs. He wasn't hard, but you could still see the outline of his cock, resting against his thigh, lazily.

"Hey, bunny, did you see what Brie sent?" Eddie wasn't looking up from his phone as you padded closer. "She said 'bffr'? What does that- oof!" Eddie grunted softly, surprised when you climbed into his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs.

Your swollen bump pressed up against his soft tummy, your heated core over his bulge, grinding down in slow, circles. Eddie's eyes lit up, hands on your waist as he tossed his phone, ripping off his glasses and throwing them on his bedside table. "Really? Yeah?" He asked eagerly. "You want to? Really?"

You huffed, heat flickering and building between your legs as you felt him harden, nails gripping his shoulders. "Just... Just shut up before I change my mind." You gasped, leaning down to kiss him.

His lips met yours, scruff rubbing over your face, surely leaving you red and raw. You moaned, hand on the back of his curly head, gripping and pressing him deeper and deeper into you, tongues swirling and exploring each other.

You whimpered when Eddie started kissing down your jaw, neck, sucking the spot below your ear that had you crying out, eyes rolled back. Everything was heightened with the pregnancy- cravings, pains, but most importantly, sensitivities of every kind. Eddie swore up and down that's why he couldn't keep his hands off you, because you were so sensitive, so reactive to his touch.

Eddie's hands worked quickly, pushing down the straps of your cotton, maternity, sleep tank, your breasts presented to him, his hands cupping them firmly, mouth watering at the sight. Swollen and full, he squeezed then lightly.

“Careful, Ed, easy.” You whined, high pitched and breathy. “They're sensitive."

Eddie nodded, but you were sure he didn’t heart you, eyes glued on your nipples, already hardened, rolling the pads of his thumbs over them. “Jesus fuck, bunny.” Eddie groaned. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked so perfect.”

You scoffed, grinding down into his touch for friction. “I’m huge.” You rolled your eyes. “I can’t even shave my legs, my vagina, anymore.”

Eddie scoffed, nearly offended, looking up at you. “Like I give a shit.” He cocked his head to the side, hands moving down your ribs to your hips, which had widened as the baby started to grow more and more, filled out and full.

"I think you've never looked better." Eddie pressed a kiss into your jaw, scruff of his beard nuzzling into the nape of your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.

Eddie shifted, moving you carefully, laying you down on to the turned down pillows, his hands gripping the fat of your hips, soft and subtle flesh kneading between his fingers. Eddie took his time kissing down your neck, sloppy smooches wet and peppering every inch of your exposed skin. One hand pushing down your pajama shorts, flinging them onto the floor next to your discarded top.

You whined, shifting as your stomach settled, flat against the mattress. "Ed, wait," You sighed, pushing up on your forearms. "I can't." You shook your head, watching his face fall. His eyes were filled with concern, rounding carefully to look from you to your bump.

"No, I mean," You huffed, grabbing his pillows and piling them against the headboard, shimmying up the bed so you rested against the headboard, sighing with relief at the relieved pressure off your abdomen.

"Is that better?" Eddie asked, groaning as he sat on his knees, leaning over you to adjust the pillows. "That comfortable?"

You nodded, grinning widely before cupping your hand against his cheek, wedding bands cool on his stubble and flesh, pulling him back in to you, lips tangling to his. Eddie groaned into your mouth, shifting himself between your legs. His hands went to your neck, hands tangled in your hair.

He made his way down your body, lips ghosting over your stretched skin, peppering every inch of you with a sloppy kiss until you were covered, skin hot and sticky, squirming against the pillows, hands in his hair.

Eddie dipped closer to your core, kissing the delicate inner parts of your thighs, arm nudging your thighs apart encouragingly. You blushed slightly under his gaze. You really hadn't been able to shave. You'd been meaning to book a waxing appointment, just some sort of maintenance, but it had fallen on the back burner, too wrapped up with names, nesting, maternity leave, and the million others things that were hurdled at you every single day.

Eddie's eyes were trained on your core, peering at him from over your bump. You felt exposed, in a way you hadn't felt since the two of you had first started dating- when everything was still new.

"I told you I hadn't shaved." You giggled nervously, legs squirming to move up further on the pillows, closing your legs.

Eddie's eyes flicked up to you, brow furrowed, deep creases itching into his features. "Bunny, I-" He shook his head with a laugh. Your back arched slightly, strangled gasp leaving your throat when he swiped your slick heat without warning, circling your sopping hole, thumb lightly pressing into your clit.

He pulled his hand back and you burned, flesh molting and hot at the absences of his touch and your slick coating his fingers. He pressed his index and thumb together, a vulgar clicking sound filling the quiet space when he separated them.

"You think I give a shit about you shaving, when I've got this?" Eddie's mouth watered, wicked grin on his face when he looked at you. You bit your lip, clenching around nothing. Eddie scoffed, swiping his fingers in you again, leaving you grabbling for purchase on the sheets.

Eddie's fingers teased you, one finger pushing into your drooling hole without warning, smirking when you clamped around the digit. "You're so wet, baby." He grinned, pulling his finger out.

His eyes were on you, brown eyes dark and salacious. He didn't look away, didn't blink, putting his index finger in his mouth. A filthy moan tore from the back of his throat, eyes rolling back when he removed his finger.

"Fuck, and so sweet." Eddie moved closer to you. He put this thumb on your bottom lip, finger still coated in your arousal. "Taste, bunny. Taste how fuckin' good you are." He pressed his thumb past your mouth, dick twitching when you swirled your tongue around the finger obediently.

Eddie's head was spinning, searing heat pooling in his belly, cock pressed uncomfortably against the fabric of his boxers. He pulled his spit soaked fingers from you, your eyes on him when he did, round and obedient, waiting for his sweet, syrupy praise you knew would follow.

Eddie grinned, lopsided and smug. "Good girl, bunny. Very good." His chest swelled with obnoxious pride when you blistered under his words, biting back a little smile that had him throbbing.

"Oh!" Gasping cry caught in your throat when Eddie pushed you lightly back into the pillows, climbing back down to your spread legs.

Your eyes clenched, hips grinding down onto Eddie's face, his lips latching onto your sensitive bud, suckling on it lightly, just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling back, grabbing onto his hair, pulling him closer and closer into your heat until he was suffocating. Eddie was more than happy with it, nose smushed against your coarse hair, drowning in your tangy scent. He'd happily let his lungs give out, more than content to go out smothered in your delicious pussy.

Your head was thrown back onto the headboard, thighs clenching and tightening. You were close with just Eddie's tongue alone. That was the beauty of pregnancy, so sensitive and reactive he could have you coming undone with the slightest touch, unraveling and hazy in no time.

Eddie's chin was sopping, scruff wet and sticky against his skin. His tongue swirled your clit, kitten licks lapping against the sensitive bundles of nerves, scruff tickling and scraping it haphazardly.

Your hips rose, belly shifting on your chest. "Fuck, Ed, 'm- holy fucking shit- I'm so fucking close, don't stop." You babbled, vision blurring as you felt the pressure deep in your belly, in your core teeter close and closer towards the edge of blinding, overwhelming pleasure.

Eddie's hand smoothed gently up your skin, over the swell of your belly in a feather light touch until he found your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between his calloused fingers, mouth still attached to your core.

Hands smacking his head, a little harder than you meant to, gripping his hair in tight fists around the curly, thick strands of hair, pulling them at the scalp. You cried out, so overwhelmed with pleasure and sensation you were sure you'd burst in ecstasy...and you did, in a way, gushing around Eddie's mouth and chin, soaking him in your wake while he licked you up. Cleaning your drenched pussy with his tongue, like the true gentleman he was.

Eddie's beard glistened, wet with the sticky release of you on his mouth. He wore it like a prize, grinning and shining in the low light of the room.

"You ready, bunny?" Eddie asked, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, pulling himself out of his boxers. You could see the weeping, angry tip of his cock from his fist, watching his pre-cum dribble down his veiny shaft. Your mouth salivated, eyes dreamy and fixated on his delicious cock.

Eddie smirked, hand cupping your face gently, a little squeeze to bring your attention back to him. Your eyes lifted, distant and wanton, rounded in anticipation. "How you wanna do this?" He asked, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lips.

"Hm?" You hummed, foggy minded and still reeling from his tongue on your aching core.

Eddie laughed. "You wanna be on top?" Eddie snorted at your snarling expression. "How about all fours? I'll get you on your hands and knees, how's that sound?"

You nodded slowly, accepting his help off your cloud of pillows, crawling towards the other end of the bed. Eddie's eyes fixated on you with an intense glare, taking in every curve and arch of your body. He took his cock lazily in his hand, pumping himself, thumb gliding over the sensitive tip when you dropped onto your forearms. Back arched, legs apart so your glistening pussy peeked out, enticing him deliciously, your bump hanging low.

"Ed, can you hand me a pillow to put under me, please?" Eddie wasn't sure why you ever bothered to say please. To even ask him. He'd walk through fire for you if you asked, especially now that you were carrying his baby. Pregnant, sacrificing and embracing every change that came with your body, good or bad- for him.

Eddie pushed the pillow under your bump, body folding on top of yours, curls ticking your shoulder blades, leaving feather light kisses in your wake. "You ready?" He asked, breath tickling the shell of your ear. He laughed, darkly when you wiggled your ass, pressing it against his pelvis desperately. "You'll let me know if I hurt you?"

You nodded, dropping down into a deeper, further arch. "I will, promise." You sighed, pressing your face into the mattress, sneaking a glance at him.

Eddie sunk into you easily, audible, loud groan filling the room when he bottomed out. You were soaked, clenching and wetting his cock in the most delicious way. "Goddamit, bunny." Eddie groaned, one hand gripping your hip.

His eyes were trained on the recoil of your ass and hips, meaty and filled out like the rest of you, jumping with ever snap of his hips on you. "You- fuck- I swear, I'd keep you pregnant for the rest of my life if I could." Eddie rasped, free hand circling around you to cup your belly, fingers splayed out protectively over the swell of your abdomen that grew your baby.

You cried out with a particularly hard snap of his hips, feeling Eddie hesitate behind you slightly. He knew he had to be careful with how deep he went, especially this far along. He watched you for a moment, eyes scanning for any signs of displeasure or discomfort.

Eddie found his pace, steady and deep enough to have you drooling, cock stretching you out in the most delicious way, walls burning and adjusting against his thickness. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" Eddie growled. "Like it if I kept you pregnant like this? Keep you filled up, and- oh, fuck bunny- and sensitive like this. Would you let me, huh? Let me keep you barefoot and pregnant."

You were too fucked out, eyes glazed and mind spacey, drooling and dumb on his cock. "Mmm." You drooled into he duvet.

"Yeah? Would you?" Eddie grit his teeth, grip on your hip tightening with every thrust building closer and closer to his own release. He looked down at his cock, watching the creamy spend coat his base thickly.

He took a sharp breath, head tilting back to try and contain himself, keep himself from slamming into you, finishing by pounding you out hard until you were a puddle in the mattress. "You'd let me keep you like this forever, wouldn't you, bunny?" Eddie shuddered out, hand around your belly moving down to your puffy lips, finding your slit easily.

You squealed and cried out, clenching around him tightly, white knuckled grasp on the duvet, gushing over his cock that relentlessly pounded you. Eddie felt himself twitch deep within you. "Say it." Eddie growled. "Say you're gonna be my little pregnant wife. Just my little woman that lets me breed this pussy over and over and- fuck!" Eddie's strangled breath caught in his throat, tearing through a low groan and a cry.

Hot, thick ropes of his release filling you. He finished deep inside of you, bottoming out, hips against your ass, bumping into your gently with every squeeze of your walls around him, milking his cock.

Eddie's bangs were sweaty and puffy when they fell against your shoulder, breath hot against your sticky, flushed skin. He could feel you slack against the bed, bump protected by the pillows, but hips still lifted to keep the extra weight off.

You could feel his spend spill out of you when he pulled out, his own fingers catching it before it hit the pillow, pushing it back inside of you. You whined at the feeling, too sensitive and overwhelmed with sensation. "Ed, please." You whined.

Eddie's eyes stayed trained on your leaking cunt, spilling out his creamy release slowly down your mound towards the blankets. Eddie's breathing heaved, shoulders rounding and slouching, fixated on the vision in front of him.

"Can you get a washcloth please?" You whimpered, looking back over your shoulder at him. "I don't want to stain the covers again."

Eddie didn't move, eyes still trained on the trail of cum that was trickling through your hair, down your slit, out as you pulsated with the aftershocks of your orgasms.

"Eddie," You sighed, pushing up, flat palms in the mattress. You shifted carefully, trying to keep from spilling out and onto the bed. His eyes were distant, glazed when they met yours, wide and awaiting. "Please. Get something to clean me up, baby, my back is starting to hurt." You pouted.

Eddie worked quickly, warm cloth between your legs, cleaning you up delicately and sweetly, soft nuzzles into your cheek, hand petting your damp hair. He adjusted the bed, fixing it back for you, helping you back into your pajamas before pulling on a fresh pair of boxers.

You didn't have to ask for your pillow, he placed it between your legs when you turned on your side, adjusting it so you rocked your hips in the feeling of relief on your lower back. Eddie's body contorted into yours, pulling you close into him so you fused together- one body, one mold, the same.

His large, inked hand splayed over your tummy, rubbing it gently in soft, soothing circles. "I can't wait for the baby to get here." Eddie whispered to you, eyes closed and breath tickling your ear. "You're gonna be the best mama."

You blushed under his praise, lashes fluttering, snuggling further into his hold, your hand folding on top of his, holding him closely against your swollen belly.

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jaketsparrow · 2 months

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SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :)

Playlist

*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth.

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy.

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern.

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all.

Professor Kiszka on the other hand…

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man.

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him.

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad.

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last.

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone.

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off.

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears.

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.”

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare.

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather.

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room.

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway.

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room.

It was empty.

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work.

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away.

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever. A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway.

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover.

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond.

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level.

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you.

“-Your favorite?” He asks.

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry?

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him.

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point.

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?”

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite.

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer.

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.”

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table.

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously.

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process.

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort.

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.”

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat.

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs.

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.”

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber.

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly.

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart.

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger.

“Please, call me Jacob.”

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips.

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake.

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand.

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…”

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings.

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him.

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite.

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve.

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try.

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress.

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items.

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation.

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so?

“You look like a pirate.” You responded.

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked.

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth.

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag.

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there?

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement.

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago.

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…”

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.”

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up.

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him.

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you.

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him.

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.”

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.”

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him.

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard.

“Hey.” He prods.

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands.

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption.

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues.

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.”

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.”

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction.

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product.

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too.

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance.

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it.

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello.

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript.

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old.

You press play and lower the needle onto the music.

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold.

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity.

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete.

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important…

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar.

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels.

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.”

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass. He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face.

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily.

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter.

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before.

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?”

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you.

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..”

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters.

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh.

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.”

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions.

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue.

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot.

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.”

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.”

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care?

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-”

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him.

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.”

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate.

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...”

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.”

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down.

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks.

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you.

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you.

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page.

“See this paragraph here?” He questions.

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement

You need to focus.

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?”

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.”

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost.

“What…? What problem?”

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist.

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ”

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside.

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible.

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from.

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies.

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.”

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all…

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin.

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-”

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand.

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer.

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off.

“But?” He inquires.

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber.

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.”

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression.

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction.

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you.

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.”

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?”

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.”

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared.

“How rough are we talking…” You prod.

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.”

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private.

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before…

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting.

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles.

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest.

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language.

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood.

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter.

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your…

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck.

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing.

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect.

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you.

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked.

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from.

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down.

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments.

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice.

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely.

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.”

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on.

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion.

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.”

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own.

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses.

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him.

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…”

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease.

His kisses start to graze you closer to your…

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means.

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.”

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you.

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-”

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to.

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder.

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission.

You nodded your head ferociously

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop.

“Words.” He barked.

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…”

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg.

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again.

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding.

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room.

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you.

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks.

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?”

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now.

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you.

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity.

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once.

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending. It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more.

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you.

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation.

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end.

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness…

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped…

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen.

A knock at the classroom door.

“Hello?” Someone called out.

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew.

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

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zh-lele · 8 months

Text

12-7 ROOM (part one)

Surviving a week to Donghyuck's charms and jokes can't be so hard... Worst case scenario, you end up completely falling for your brother's best friend.

▪︎Pairing: brother's best friend!Hyuck x fem reader

▪︎Genres: poor attempt at rom com, fluff

▪︎Warnings: alcohol consumption, profanity suggestive jokes

▪︎Word count (part 1): 6613 words

playlist | extra content: mc's IG stories

Author's note: Hi every1!!! The fluffy Hyuck fic is here, finally. I decided I'll be posting it in two parts because it ended up being way longer than I planned, and since it's written in the format of timestamps. It barely has any conflict, so I was afraid it would get boring or tedious if I posted everything in just one go. So, yeah, part 2 coming next week. Also, I changed Hyuck's major (it's physics now) for plot purposes lol I figured it would be easier for me to write him if we share majors. Also !! I didn´t proof read it but I will during the week lol sorry. Okay, tysm for all the support on the preview !!! enjoy the fic bye !!!!

Tuesday, 10:34 p.m.

Mark moves around the small apartment urgently cleaning up. He makes sure to pick up and throw into the garbage bag between his hands every empty Red Bull can that his roommate has left lying around. On the old sofa rests his guitar, and on the little table in the living room his lyrics notebooks and Donghyuck's physics notes.

"Mark," Donghyuck calls for him, to which the older one only responds with a small sound, indicating that he has his attention—partially, as he's still concentrating on his duty of getting all ready for your arrival—, "Your food is getting cold."

Mark lets out an exasperated sigh while getting all his belongings inside his backpack and his guitar in the case. "I'll just order something once I'm at the studio."

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"Yeah, I need to get some work done with TY. And y/n's arriving at any time so this place has to be tidy and clean and–" Mark stops all motions of arranging the mattress you're going to sleep on on the living room floor, to fix his eyes on his friend. "Hyuck, could you like, put on a t-shirt or something?"

Small drops of water fall from Donghyuck's wet hair onto his naked torso, fresh from the warm shower he just took. The young man does nothing but questions his best friend with a lopsided smile as he finishes his bowl of ramen, sitting at the counter in front of Mark's—that remains full and cold by now.

"What, you think y/n's gonna be scared of all this handsomeness?"

Mark's face is expressionless while looking at Donghyuck, who's feeling himself to add to the point. And Mark has missed you a lot, but he thinks that the faster he gets a break from his chaotic roommate, the better; he can't wait to have a week free of the jokes and headaches Donghyuck causes him because Donghyuck will have you to annoy. Even when he will still be working, to Mark, that sounds pretty much like a vacation.

"Nah, dude. It's fucking cold, you'll get sick."

"You will get sick if you don't get anything to eat as soon as you make it to work," Donghyuck answers back as he gets up from his chair and puts his favorite Michael Jackson t-shirt on. "Promise me you'll order."

"Yeah, I promise," Mark sounds sincere. After a quick hug and a few pats on each other's back, Mark is opening the front door ready to leave for a late-night music session. "Please receive y/n well for me–

"Y/n!"

Screams and laughs from both you and your brother fill the little apartment, as you greet and hug him after almost four months without seeing each other. Just in time, is what Donghyuck thinks while observing the cute interaction, and gently caressing his belly from underneath the t-shirt because, well, he is confident but—even though he has known you for years and you've shared many situations—, he's not confident enough around you to show himself with nothing on like that. At least not yet.

His face lights up as soon as he sees you extend your arms in his direction, and Donghyuck manages to squeeze you into a warm hug and spin you in the air while the both of you laugh.

Your brother says his goodbyes, and Donghyuck tells him there's a chance they could meet up at Johnny's later, in case he wants to join in after work.

"Alright, I'll get there with Taeyong later then."

He waves to both of you and closes the front door, leaving you alone with his roommate.

"Take a relax, bro," he offers you to sit at the counter and you laugh after hearing the famous line after months. You observe him filling a cup with water and placing it in front of you before speaking again. "Want some ramen?"

"Hell yeah. I'm starving."

"Let me heat it for you."

But he was already on it even before you answered. Donghyuck knows well he's very good at turning the simple dish into a delicious meal, and that it's one of your favorite things to share since you two met.

You wouldn't say it was love at first sight, but maybe adoration since the first encounter. Only weeks after your brother moved to start studying, he invited you over because he was missing home too much. And Donghyuck wouldn't be his apartment buddy until a year after, but they already frequented the same group of friends. The two of you were standing awkwardly in a corner at Taeyong's birthday party, and ended up at your brother's because you were hungry, eating ramen together: his secret recipe (that wasn't mysterious at all) that included tomatoes and scrambled eggs and that he only made for 'real special situations'.

Donghyuck sets the bowl in front of you, the tomato scrambled noodles and eggs making your mouth water and curve in a smile. A ray of sunshine gets on the chair beside you even though it's almost midnight, and makes you feel at home, warming you even though it's freezing outside.

"So, how's school?" You start talking with a mouth full of ramen, lips moisturized with its sauce that makes Donghyuck smile when he sets his eyes on them. His look makes you blush, but you blame it on the spiciness of the Hot Chicken Spicy x2 package of noodles that he prepared for you. "Hyuck, this is burning my mouth."

"Well, don't put so many noodles in your mouth at once!" Donghyuck brings the glass of water to your hands and you accept it immediately. Its freshness somehow makes you forget the mess that Hyuck's eyes on your filthy ramen lips could have caused.

Maybe surviving a week living with the guy you like (who is your brother's best friend, which makes things a lot more complicated) will be harder than you thought.

"School's been kicking my ass," the boy continues and you nod your head, sadly sharing the sentiment. "I started my winter break last Friday, but I have to take a final in two weeks so I'll be studying. And Mark doesn't get a winter break."

"Motherfucking TY, won't let him rest."

"That's what I say!" He agrees with you, his eyes widening and sighing in exasperation. "Both of them are workaholics. Won't stop working on their music even for a week."

"Yeah. And knowing Mark, he'll try to make the most of his time since he doesn't have to teach at school for two weeks."

You knew in advance that your brother wouldn't be home much despite your visit, however extraordinary it may be. He warned you about it, that he would be focusing 100% on Taeyong's album, but that he would definitely try to take advantage of the free time to go out with you, or just chill together at home. On the other hand, Mark assured you that Donghyuck would be very happy to spend the time he wouldn't be there with you. The idea gave you butterflies in your stomach when your brother texted it to you; some emojis of a mischievous smile followed the message but you didn't know how to interpret it, since Mark is terrible at texting and pretty much a boomer.

"But don't worry!" Donghyuck speaks after a brief pause. "I'll study early in the mornings while you sleep, then we'll have the afternoons to hang out, and Mark can join whenever he's free. He'll make time for it, I'm sure."

Somehow, the thought of Donghyuck getting up early during his break to have the afternoons free to spend time with you makes your heart melt a little. You lower your head, trying to hide the inevitable smile on your lips, but you fail wildly. You decide to adhere to Donghyuck's plan, nodding and showing the tight-lipped smile that spreads to his face.

"Good." He nods as well. "So, you wanna go to Johnny's later?" Donghyuck asks, his thumb pointing in the direction of the door.

"Yeah, sure." You get up from the kitchen table to start doing your dishes at the sink. "I'm excited to see the boys after so long."

"And we have some new additions to the group."

Donghyuck's voice reaches your ears from behind. You're quickly cleaning the single bowl and glass you used, so you finish and turn around to keep listening to him face-to-face. Donghyuck picks up on his monologue.

"There's Jungwoo. He's living with Jaehyun and Doyoung and he's about to finish doing vet in college. And it's funny, because he really looks and acts like a doggie, and he's doing vet," Donghyuck finishes the sentence, looking at you with an expression that suggests 'Can you believe that?'.

His silliness makes you laugh, which encourages Donghyuck to continue sharing his first impressions of his new friends. "Then there's Yuta. He came from Japan and opened a café on the first floor of the building where Johnny and Taeyong live, and that's how they met. He's a little cold with me," Donghyuck shrugs at it, yet you can tell in his expression how he gets discouraged when he thinks about that situation. "But he's not cold with Mark. And Mark is, I don't know, he's obsessed with Yuta." There is a brief silence in which Donghyuck only looks into your eyes with a super serious face. "I hate that."

And you burst into laughter. You don't need to ask Donghyuck if he's jealous, because you know for a fact that he very much is. As soon as he doesn't get all the attention, he gets annoying. Don't you dare not answer one of the silly cat reels he sends on Instagram or he will start texting you things like "Pay attention to me" or "Answer or I'll get sad." So you know how it can be. He doesn't get annoyed over the Baekhyun posts he shares with you because you always reply to them. Donghyuck might get jealous of Baekhyun too, but he won't show that to you.

"Don't worry, Hyuck." You circle the island to stand next to him and try to comfort him, one of your hands caressing circles on his back. He quickly seeks comfort by resting his head on your shoulder, and you can notice his slightly wet hair smells like green apple and cinnamon, like baby shampoo. "You're Mark's best friend. The things you've been through together, he won't get through again with anyone else. That's what's special about you two."

"You're right, y/n," he agrees while getting his head off your shoulder. "None of them will ever know Mark ran out of toilet paper at a party once and he sacrificed a sock to clean his-"

"Oh my fucking God" you cut him off before he can finish, not wanting to hear any of it. "Gross! Some things are better kept as a secret, Hyuck! I'll go change."

"But we are like a family!" he screams as you get out of the kitchen and into Donghyuck and Mark's room to get ready for Johnny's house. "Sharing those things helps us get closer!"

The walls are thin, so you don't bother answering Donghyuck from the room. "Honestly, Hyuck, I don't really care where my brother's butt has been or whatever. Let's get closer by sharing some drinks at Johnny's."

Wednesday, 01:47 a.m.

"So, how did you two meet?" Yuta asks, taking up the free space next to you on the couch and passing you two cans of beer. Exactly what you need after three rounds of karaoke with Johnny and Doyoung that are inexhaustible.

They're still going off strong in front of the TV, waiting for Mark to get back and join them in their madness.

"Oh, we're not together."

"Oh, that's for sure. I know you're not pulling any bitches, Hyuck."

Donghyuck laughs dryly at the Japanese boy, putting on his best expression of annoyance; tongue poking at his inside cheek and rolling his eyes, and he replies, "That's not true. I can pull anyone I want."

"Prove it," Yuta pushes him because he knows that Donghyuck is an easy-going person, and always a good target for a challenge.

Donghyuck quickly scans the room while you busy yourself taking a sip of your can, not wanting to get involved in Yuta's teasing, until he lands eyes on Jaehyun. He knows the boy loves him and is almost always up for some of his affection.

"Jaehyun's not an option," Yuta adds, the always good observant, and Donghyuck sighs very audibly before throwing his head back on the couch.

But he composes himself quickly to ask, turning slightly to you with his arm still firm around your shoulders. "Would you get with me? Hypothetically?"

“Are you asking me because I’m the only girl in the room?” you question him with a raise of your brows.

“Nah, you’re my first option,” he replies with a subtle smile, eyes closing slightly into the shape of two crescent moons.

You like to think he truly has no idea the effect his words have on you, and that he's just messing with Yuta, trying to prove a point. Yet, you can't help feel the heat rise to your cheeks. A deep breath is all it takes you to ignore the intern butterflies and follow the conversation, as if you're not already imagining the thousand scenarios where you and Donghyuck are an established couple living with two dogs (you would like a cat but he's allergic) and a hamster.

“But I thought your first option was Jaehyun–”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

“Alright, jeez…”

You roll your eyes and give yourself a moment to think. Would you get together with Hyuck, hypothetically? Considering the four-year crush you've had on your brother's best friend since the moment you met him, no, you wouldn't.

You would get with him for real. All of your friends back home said it's time you brave up and just confess to him. You better come back with the signed marriage papers, your best friend’s voice resonates in your head.

"I mean… Yes?" you answer by looking at Yuta, trying to avoid Donghyuck's eyes that you know are set on the blushed skin of your face. "I guess Hyuck is not a bad match," you finish with a shy shrug, sinking yourself deeper on the couch and taking another long drink.

Donghyuck smiles contentedly at your answer, his chest filling with confidence, and kisses you wet with beer on the forehead that gets you squeezed up to his body for a second. By the time he's done, you rest your head on his shoulder to return the affection, trying not to throw up all the butterflies and not noticing Yuta's knowing stare.

"Keyword: hypothetically. And I said 'Prove it.'" Yuta pushes a little more.

"Bro, you're so annoying." Donghyuck gets up from the couch exasperated, and almost makes you spill all your beer while trying to get you up with him. "What, you want us to make out?"

Yuta nods, crossing his arms and spreading his legs on the couch that he has all for himself now, challenging the younger boy.

"Sorry dude, we're not into exhibitionism."

Donghyuck takes your hand to drag you away from the living room, but you can still hear Yuta's laugh and the words the two you would end up choosing to ignore for the rest of the night.

"This is not how you're getting some, Hyuck! Don't say I didn't try to help you!"

Donghyuck's hand holding yours (or rather dragging you into the kitchen) feels embarrassingly good. Worth blushing and having your heart fastening inside your chest. Damn Donghyuck for making you feel like a teenager who had just exchanged looks with their highschool crush. And just when you needed a break from that ridiculous wave of emotions…

“What are you wearing!?” You hear Johnny’s voice coming out of the speakers, as he’s still holding the mic to his mouth while the instrumentals of his most iconic karaoke performance play on the back, A Flying Butterfly by YB.

Mark and Taeyong have arrived at the apartment and they have caught everyone's attention because Taeyong is wearing an inflatable T-Rex costume. Jungwoo is the first one to get to Taeyong with his mouth open in astonishment, an expressión that is quickly replaced with amusement as soon as he gets to hug and squeeze the dinosaur in his hands.

“Jungwoo, stop squeezing my butt!” Taeyong’s voice comes a little distorted from inside the costume, but it’s clear enough for everyone to laugh at his comment. “You're going to make it deflate!”

Jungwoo keeps looking at Taeyong in the costume as if he was a kid who just saw Santa; hugging the dinosaur and saying it feels perfect for cuddling. This is the moment you understand what Donghyuck meant when he said Jungwoo looks just like an excited doggie.

“Taeyong saw it online and got it because it was on sale a couple weeks ago,” Mark starts explaining to no one in particular. “But then he ordered it and we completely forgot about it, until it arrived at the studio tonight.”

“I put it on inside the elevator so I could surprise you guys,” Taeyong adds with a happy smile, unzipping the costume just for his head to come out of it, somehow making it look all more ridiculous. Now the T-Rex looks like he has a floating head right above his stomach.

“Yeah… We had to stop the elevator for some more time because getting it inflated was way harder than I thought,” your brother says as he watches Taeyong and Jungwoo struggle with each other, because Jungwoo desperately wants to get inside the costume too but Taeyong doesn’t want to stop wearing it just yet.

Yuta only judges them from where he’s still sitting on the couch, arms crossed while shaking his head. “I can’t believe you really spent money on this.” Yet his comment is followed by a laugh. It’s not as intense as Doyoung and Taeil’s, though, who have been laughing since Taeyong crossed the door, and haven’t missed the chance to film and take pictures of him (and Jungwoo who still wouldn’t leave his side.)

"Alright so," Johnny says into the mic to attract everyone's attention. "Karaoke?"

The guys start to team up; some out of affinity or fun, others because they know they will definitely win the most points if they are grouped with certain people who hit all the notes on any song. Donghyuck, however, doesn't team up with anyone right away. He just stands in the middle of Johnny's and Taeyong's living room, watching Mark immediately cling to Yuta (who already had Jungwoo clinging to his other side.) He gestures towards your brother with arms crossed and a roll of his eyes. So, noticing his jealousy over your brother's recent preferences—jealousy that wasn't that hard to notice, he made it pretty obvious—and taking pity on your friend, you offer to team up with him.

"Wanna kick some ass together?" And you observe him playing hard to get. You're not a bad match for karaoke; you might not sing as well as Taeil or Doyoung, but you don't suck at it, and Donghyuck knows that very well. So when he starts doubting over his answer, you know he just wants to mess with you.

Suddenly Taeil is standing in front of the two of you, and Donghyuck, with an incredibly exaggerated face of astonishment, asks him:

"You wanna team up with us?!"

See, you knew he wasn't going to leave you out of his team.

Taeil only shrugs, as relaxed as always. "Sure."

Donghyuck squeezes his older friend in a hug that only gets a groan out of Taeil (and a little smile) before throwing an arm each on your shoulders, and screams to the rest. "Everybody, we got Moon Taeil!"

A punch from your fist to his ribs. A little groan followed by a laugh coming out of his mouth and a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. He's quick to correct himself.

"I got Moon Taeil and y/n! And we're gonna kick your butts!"

Thursday, 6:22 p.m.

It's been a long time since Donghyuck has had a girl in his room.

It's not like Yuta was right when he said he can't pull anyone, Donghyuck just hasn't had the time nor the energy. His break and free time to do whatever he wants just started. Even when Mark's not home most of the nights, it doesn't feel quite right to him to bring girls over to his shared bedroom when his roommate could come back at any time. And even if he had wished to bring any girls home during his break, he knew you would be here, so he didn't wanna do that either. (Not that he's bothered that he can't bring girls home because of you. Actually he'd rather have you inside his bedroom than anyone else.)

So when he's watching you laying on his bed, reading a silly high-school novel you got from your brother's library and quietly keeping him company while he studies, his heart-rate fastens and he feels his cheeks rise its temperature. He grows embarrassed when, after seeing you smile so sweetly at him when you catch his eyes on you, the only thing he can think of is leaving those stupid Relativity notes behind, running over to your spot and stealing a kiss from your lips.

Yet Donghyuck remains motionless at his desk. He inwardly curses when you get up and start walking toward him, and wishes you wouldn't ask why he's so red because he can't blame it on the weather—it's the middle of winter.

To his surprise, you're curious about a totally different thing.

"What are you doing with all these comics?" you ask, picking up one of his Flash comics and opening it to a spot that Donghyuck has marked with a post it.

"I'm taking a class about Quantum Physics and Relativity and catching up on some work," he starts explaining, all his romantic fantasies put on pause to focus on the second thing (after you) that occupies his mind the most these days: college.

He watches your eyes grow with interest after hearing the name of his class, and he can't deny he gets all excited thinking about the possibilities: of having a girlfriend that would hear him talk about what he's most passionate about all he wanted. Knowing how much you've always enjoyed hearing the new things he's learned and about his most recent investigations, and noticing his feelings for you have only increased since you came back, Donghyuck's mind wonders.

"You know in the comics Flash supposedly travels at speeds close to light, right?" He watches you nod. "And he throws this infinite mass punch… Well, in one of the comics Flash punches this villain, and his fist is so powerful the villain will fly all over the ocean and land in another continent," he keeps explaining. "What are the chances of this actually happening, analyzing it from the relativistic perspective? That's what I'm looking into."

"And have you arrived to any conclusions?"

"Yeah, I have actually." He stars searching for a specific piece of paper which displays a bunch of calculations and formulas that you don't understand at all, but they look awesome.

Donghyuck doesn't wait for a specific reaction, yet your response cracks him up a little.

"Could you explain this for me? Dummy level?" you ask wrinkling your nose. Donghyuck wants to kiss the confusion off your face.

Honestly, he might be looking for any excuses to kiss you at this point. But, to be fair, he's liked you since that first time he cooked ramen for you the night you met—that was like four years ago. The only reason he has never made a move on you is because you're his friend's sister.

"Yeah, yeah I can do that." He lets out a breathy laugh, shaking these ideas out of his head once more. "Basically, that the mass of his punch is 'infinite' is a consequence of the relativistic effects of travelling at speeds near to light." He points at a calculation on the paper. "And if Flash punches you on the face he won't send you flying to another continent."

This time, Donghyuck watches the disappointment take over your features; smile and shoulders dropping at the same time. "He won't?"

Donghyuck denies with his head. "You would disintegrate in an instant. The energy of his punch is 750,000 times greater than the energy released by an atomic bomb exploding in your face."

You're not saying anything. You're just looking right into his eyes and it's making Donghyuck considerably nervous. Thankfully, he's been sitting all this time, because considering how close you're standing in front of him he's sure his knees would've given up on him a while ago.

He gulps. "I did the maths."

"You're a fucking genious."

Donghyuck melts hearing you praise his work.

“Okay. I’m ready,” Mark says as he waits for you at the room’s door.

Right, you and your brother were scheduled to have dinner together.

Donghyuck doesn't want you to go just yet, he doesn't want to stop chatting with you about irrelevant-to-the-society stuff like this, but he understands this is one of the few moments you’ll get to hang out with Mark alone, so he doesn’t tag alone when Mark offers him to.

“I’ll just have a light dinner and study a little bit more,” he politely declines. Then, he’s looking into your eyes once again. “Wanna chill together when you’re done with your brother?”

“You wanna watch Oppenheimer?”

Does he want to spend three hours watching a movie about an international bunch of nerds who just argue for more than two thirds of the plot, and some awfully awkward scenes of Mr. Oppenheimer flirting using physics that he definitely didn’t think of replicating with you? Again?

Donghyuck thinks you might be the love of his life.

“Of-fucking-course I wanna watch Oppenheimer.” He thinks this might be a better answer, rather than confessing his undying love to you (in front of his best friend) (that is your brother.)

“Nobody’s gonna ask me if I want to watch Oppenheimer?” Mark questions with arms crossed and narrowed eyes.

“Mark, you were snoring inside the movie theater when we went to watch it together.”

“I had a long day, dude!”

“You literally came out of the theater and said ‘this was fucking boring for a World War Two movie’!”

“Well, I mean yeah–” Mark starts trying to defend himself but gets interrupted by you, when you start pushing him towards the door saying you’re hungry, and reminding him how most of the times they argue he can never win against Donghyuck. “But you gotta accept it was missing a little action, man.”

Donghyuck throws his head back, and then looks at your brother with his eyes squinted and a fake smile. “They were scientists, Mark, not soldiers–”

“Whatever!” you say when you’ve managed to get your brother out of the room. “We’re leaving. Hyuck–” Donghyuck notices his eyebrows relax, and the frown he had while arguing with Mark is gone as soon as you’re calling his name with a smile on your lips. “Looking forward to movie night.”

“I’ll get some beers for us,” Donghyuck adds, to which you agree excitedly.

Mark sighs once you’re on your way out of the apartment. “I swear to God,” he starts. “You two are like made for each other.”

You just punch his shoulder as a defense mechanism, not knowing how to react or manage your emotions when it comes to Donghyuck. And you definitely don't know Donghyuck catches a glimpse of your smile and your reddened cheeks before you close the front door.

That simple thing, maybe gives Donghyuck a little hope.

Friday, 11:13 a.m.

You can't believe you're jealous of a dog.

You watch the video play over and over on your phone screen. Donghyuck was literally rubbing his face on the little fur ball, using it as some kind of cotton pad, then showering the dog with kisses all over her little face.

Chenle's friends with the boys and he recently got a dog that he named Daegal. Today, Chenle and Mark were going to be working together since early and Chenle didn't want to leave the dog alone. Apparently, Donghyuck and Daegal love each other, and that's the reason why you're currently at Chenle's, at fucking eleven in the morning during your break.

Donghyuck and you were the designated babysitters of the dog.

You wonder over the video on your phone a little more, thinking of what to put as a caption to share it on your story. Maybe some emojis? Some angry emojis because Donghyuck won't even look at you now that he's with the doggie? Maybe cute emojis… Something like a sun, a heart, and a dog. Maybe the caption boyfriend material, or something in the lines of pay attention to me followed by some exclamation points.

You decide to post it with the text 'taking good care of the baby' and tagging Donghyuck and Chenle's account. It doesn't take long for two notifications to arrive. One is from Donghyuck, who just re-uploaded your story, and the other is a reply from Chenle. 'Who's the baby? Donghyuck or Daegal?' followed by a cracking up emoji.

A smile takes over your face reading it, and it stays there when you get your head up and your eyes meet Donghyuck, who's laying relaxed on the couch with the little fur ball on top of his belly. He has his cute transparent glasses on, and he's wearing some comfy pants and a hoodie that makes him look incredibly cozy and huggable.

His eyes find yours, and an arm extends in your direction, inviting you to join him on the couch with a pat besides his spot. His body radiates an enveloping heat that makes you forget it's winter, but it seems that it's not enough for Donghyuck, who grabs one of the soft blankets laying around the couch and puts it over the three of you.

The characteristic sound of Netflix reaches your ears and then Donghyuck is looking for the drama that you started watching together a couple of weeks ago, from your homes and when you both had some free time through Netflix Party. The third episode of My First True Love starts playing on the TV screen while you wait for the food you ordered earlier, and you feel content. Everything about the situation is too domestic and feels familiar, and you're not surprised when you think that you wouldn't mind getting used to this.

What is a surprise is when Donghyuck puts his arm over your head and offers you to get closer to him, resting a little more on his body.

"This is nice." You hear him say, almost in a whisper. The midday sun illuminates almost as much as his smile when you look up at him.

"It is," you agree, focusing once again at the TV (because looking at him was making you melt inside.)

"We could do it more often."

And by the increasing rate of his heart and the soft caresses in your hair, you knew he didn't mean just babysitting Daegal.

(Still) Friday, 04:02 p.m.

Donghyuck wakes up from his nap on the couch to the smell of coffee and missing the warmth from his two personal heaters, Daegal and you, who he remembers were still with him before he fell asleep. He sits and stretches in his place before moving towards the kitchen, where he already visualized your figure in front of the counter, with your back to him. You don't seem to notice him, so as he walks into the kitchen, he makes sure to greet you with a little hello.

You just look over your right shoulder at him, but you have to raise your head because Donghyuck is closer than expected. You greet him in the same way, but with a sweet smile on your face. "Hi, Hyuck."

Now that Donghyuck is so close, he can notice that the smell of coffee is coming from the machine in front of you that is filling two mugs with particular writings: one says 'best dad in the world', and the other says 'MARK' in big colorful letters (someone also took it upon themselves to print a photo of Mark holding a watermelon on it.)

"Chenle's mugs are fucking weird, don't you think?"

Donghyuck laughs hearing your question and decides to explain. "These are part of an inside joke. Chenle always says someone like Mark would be his ideal son, so your brother got these made for Chenle for last year's fathers' day." He finishes standing against the counter by your side, and thanks you when you handle him a warm home-made latte.

Donghyuck can't take coffee so well since most of the time it makes his stomach hurt, and you know this.

"You don't have to drink it. I remember you're not good with coffee," you tell him, but it's too late when Donghyuck's already sipping the first drink.

Yeah, he might have to use Chenle's bathroom later, but he's willing to face a shit rather than miss out on the opportunity to share a coffee made by you, on a winter afternoon where it's just the two of you and the sun filtering through the kitchen window falling on your face.

"I just thought it would've been disrespectful not making you one too."

You finish your sentence but smile watching him enjoying the coffee anyway, and Donghyuck thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's a little in love with you.

So he takes a deep breath, takes a lot of courage, and sets out to do what works best for him when it comes to you: pretend he's joking when in reality he's only on the verge of confessing his feelings. "Do I have something in my lips?"

"You do, actually," you answer his question pointing at your own upper lip with your finger to make him understand. "A little bit of foam around here–"

"Please do the Secret Garden scene."

"What?"

He's not hesitant to repeat it. Donghyuck internally questions himself though, wondering where all this confidence has come from. Because, yes, Donghyuck is very confident, naturally. But not when it comes to you. His knees go weak and his stomach starts to ache with nerves when he thinks of things like kissing you. In that sense, he will not waste this sudden confidence-rush.

"Please do the Secret Garden with me."

And this time around he can confirm you understood 100% what he means because your laugh and your punch on his arm indicate it. He notices it might be a reflex act of yours—punching people in the arm when you get nervous or don't know what to retort. He's glad he won't have to worry about punching mean guys when he makes you his girlfriend, though; you'll probably take care of that yourself.

Donghyuck still catches you staring at his lips the moment he gets rid of the foam with his tongue. And when you snap out of your trance, your eyes meet Donghyuck's and his eyebrows that move up and down, just to tease you a little more. A mischievous smile is also adorning his face.

He only watches you shake your head while your cheeks grow red, even when you try to hide it behind that big mug with the picture of your brother holding the watermelon.

"Anyway," he decides it will be better to change subjects. "Where's Daegal?"

"I thought she was sleeping with you?" You ask before you start looking around the place for the little fur ball.

"I mean, she was as long as I remember." Donghyuck watches you leave the kitchen and move around the living room, checking every corner for the dog you two were supposed to sacrifice your life for if needed (that's how Chenle described the seriousness of the duty). "You were too…" But you're far enough not to hear the disappointment in Donghyuck's voice after waking up all alone.

"She wasn't here when you woke up?" you ask, standing in front of the couch.

Donghyuck shakes his head no. You start picking up the tangle of blankets and throwing them in the direction of Donghyuck, who hardly catches them in his arms. It's confirmed that Daegal hasn't been trapped under the blankets and at least she hasn't suffocated to death. Although that doesn't give any of you any comfort; the doggie still is nowhere around.

"Oh my fucking god," you say, trapping your head in your hands. "We lost Chenle's dog."

"She has to be somewhere around."

"We lost Chenle's dog and we didn't even go out with her," he hears you repeat all the way from Chenle's bedroom, where Donghyuck checks if the little dog is hiding. He looks under the bed, inside the closet, and inside the bathroom, only to find nothing. "We must be the dumbest babysitters in the world," you finish when he's back in the living room.

He looks down at the watch on his wrist and notices it's almost four thirty, which makes him start to sweat from the nerves. "Chenle's about to come back. We need to find this dog right now."

"Chenle's gonna kill us."

"y/n, just look for the dog."

"He will find out and probably hire a contract killer to deal with us for losing his baby." Donghyuck sees your desperation and calls your name once more, but you don't listen to him. "I'll never see Baekhyun live again!"

And the doorbell rings, followed by a knock on the door and Chenle's screams coming from outside, telling you to let him in.

"Fuck my life," Donghyuck mutters and goes to open the door.

"Hyuck!" you hiss while following him closely. "What are you gonna tell him?"

He silences you, looking back at you and placing his index finger over his lips. Donghyuck takes a deep breath, puts his hand on the handle, sweats a little more despite fighting to calm his nerves, and finally opens the door. Mark is the first to enter, anyway, and he doesn't greet any of you; he simply calls for Daegal, and Donghyuck knows that this is the moment where he should start begging Chenle to let him keep his life and promise him that he will find another dog that looks exactly like–

"Daegal!"

Like the little white ball of fur in your brother's arms.

Donghyuck looks back at you once more, his eyes and mouth wide open in astonishment, and you return an equally astonished look.

"Thanks guys for taking good care of the baby," Chenle says once he's done greeting his dog, who appeared literally out of nowhere and left you and Donghyuck stressed enough for probably three or four months. "She didn't give you any problem, right?"

"Oh, no. Definitely, no." Donghyuck and you are quick to deny at the same time, which might sound a little suspicious as Chenle looks at both of you with narrowed eyes.

Then, he's moving his head to focus his gaze on the mess you left behind when you were rummaging through the couch and the blankets, looking for the dog. "Alright, lovebirds. Then I hope that disaster isn't because you two fucked on my couch while I was gone."

part two coming next week !

taglist: @matchahyuck @sundamariis @thesunsfullmoon @babyjenono @chenfleur @bettyschwallocksyee @sundhaelatte @injunier @justalildumpling @lanadreamie @dhyucktopia @143rachafm

#haechan #haechan x reader #nct fanfic #donghyuck x reader #haechan fluff #lee donghyuck x reader #zh-lele

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itsdingdong · 5 months

Text

Come Home To Me -Drabble

Pairing: Jungkook x girlfriend!reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Suggestive, Profanity

Word Count:: 1990

A.N: I didn’t specify her occupation. She’s a career woman. Unedited, I might come back to it, wrote it on a whim.

Song: come home to me by Justin Bieber

"I'm home," your boyfriend announces his arrival. It's your last night together before he heads off to serve in the military. It's been a rough few weeks for both of you, especially for him. You know he's not ready to leave, especially at the peak of his career. Not only that, but his career consumed so much time that spending moments with loved ones became a rare luxury. He never had separation anxiety, yet here he is, struggling to leave everything behind for two years.

He left for the gym a little over an hour ago. Deep down, both of you knew he'd rather have stayed and done nothing and everything with you. Sadly, the uneasiness became overwhelming, visibly making him look shaky and pale. You suggested he go out and blow off some steam, and he left to try that.

"I'm gonna take a shower. I'm so sweaty."

"Yeah, okay."

And there's tension. You know it's not personal, but it makes you nervous anyway. You're undeniably going to miss him a lot. No, you don't show it to him because he's already in a vulnerable state. He's been trying to make the best of his solo era before he's rid of one of the craziest highs one gets – fame. You know he's not ready to leave all that behind. How you see it is that it's a learning curve and a point in his life for him to grow and mature. That's what the military does to boys. They take a leap into becoming a man. That's one of the pros you can see. You're as obliged to wait as he is to go, so you stopped whining about it as soon as you found out about the enlistment. He needs your support more than ever, so that's what you're giving him, period. Maybe it was one of the things that gave girlfriends the wife material quality – who knows?

With both of your hectic schedules, it was hard enough to spend much quality time together. When you did, it was the utmost best. Those times made the whole deal worth it. Two tired people in need of love and compassion met in an unusual place and easily fell in love as literal soulmates. Soulmates with little to no time to spend. You just wanted to support him as much as you could. It wasn't like you were never going to see him during the service time, but you'd very much rather have him come home to you, even if it's just to spend the night in bed, sleeping.

Your chest has been squeezed tight since a couple of days back. You watched the V-Live he'd done while you were away, and you weren't happy about it. People wouldn't leave him alone with their uncalled-for negativity when he was extremely generous with his limited time to make people who supported him happy. From stans accusing him of abandoning Bam, his baby, to them following him around – which he got a scolding from you for showing his address.

He's a strong man, one of the toughest you've met. And he manages to stay kind, humble, and polite. Now, shit like this doesn't faze him usually, but nowadays, you're in awe to see how clueless and selfish people could be. They may not see it, but he gets hurt, and they are not the ones to pick up the pieces. And with that mindset, they wouldn't have been able to even if they tried. Despite everything, he did a final live to fulfill his promise. That alone shows how huge his heart is and how much he cares.

When done showering and changing into his sweats, Jungkook quietly joins you in the living room, a towel in his hand, drying up his shaved head. A small smile forms on your lips just by the sight of him. Damn, you're so in love with this man.

"Hey," he says as he drops himself down next to you on the couch.

"Hey," you say softly. His eyes look into yours for a moment, then they drop to the ground. He still looks sad, all puffy from crying too. "Come here. Please." He pats his chest, signaling you to hug him. Seriously, you don't need to be told twice. When you wrap your arms around his neck, he leans back, making you lie on top of him. You stay like that for a minute. Then 2. Then 10. Until you both fall asleep. It's a 20-minute nap before you feel him shuffle under you. You're so comfortable and peaceful in your current position to move or open your eyes; you just stay like that.

"I will miss you so much." The words come out as a shaky whisper. "I really don't want to go." His arms tighten around your figure. You don't want him to go either. It's on the list of things not to say to him.

"I know. I will miss you too, but I promise it'll pass in the blink of an eye."

He shakes his head before resting it on yours. All you want to do is cheer him up and give him all the hope you can for the following 18 months. To make him feel and know that everything will be okay. He's a mess, and you just want to rid him of all the upsetting emotions he's feeling right now. If only you could take his pain and stress away.

"We will all be waiting for you. I will visit you whenever I can. And I'll see you when you're home." If I'm here. You don't add that detail either. It's possible to miss him on his free days depending on your schedule, but he knows that already, and it's not worth mentioning at this very moment.

"I'll go see Bam as much as I can. I'll take photos of him. I know they will too. I'll make sure to visit your parents too." You finally raise yourself to look at his beautiful eyes. The well of tears brimming in them completely shatters your heart.

"I love you." He croaks, trying really hard to keep himself from breaking down. Though you wish he would if he needed to, but you wait and reply, "I love you more."

"That's impossible." He sighs into your neck, making you shiver slightly.

"Agree to love equally then?" You suggest playfully.

"Deal."

There's a brief comfortable silence after that. Your mind quiets down as you enjoy his warmth and strong arms around you. Eyes closed, you listen to his heartbeats as well as his breathing. Thankful to have him.

"Do you think I'll be forgotten when I'm gone? 2 years isn't a short time." He breaks the silence. His words slightly anger you because you know that it's impossible and you really hate it when he gets insecure like that when he has absolutely no reason to. But you know, no matter what, his worries are valid, always.

"Of course not. Who could forget such a gorgeous, talented, wonderful, funny, and caring man like you? I couldn't. Even if you weren't mine, you'd have definitely left an impact. And obviously you did because, like, ARMY, you know? Besides, you're really hot, if I do say so myself. Who could forget this face?" He smiles at your encouraging words as they warm his heart.

"I don't think I'm hot right now."

“Oh baby, how wrong you are. You look so hot even if you don’t feel like it.”

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“Sure, I’ll cry with you.”

“What? No, don’t cry. I’ll cry even more.”

“It’s okay to cry. I know you’re struggling, I’m here for you baby. I would prefer if you weren’t in such distress but if you are, let’s go through it. Together.”

Your words move him. He knows he’s loved. By millions and by the people he cares for the most. You? You’re different. You love him so honestly and care for him thoroughly, he can’t help but to feel extra grateful for your existence. He’s usually a grateful person but you make him thank whoever out there that’s hearing him a little more often. He knows you’re the one he’ll spend what’s left of his lifetime with. He’d marry you in a beat if it weren’t for your no marriage till babies rule. Which he’s okay with. But still, you just have to say the word and he’ll take you to the courthouse. You come second to his mother in terms of peace and comfort he can find in one but he’s okay with you switching spots when the time comes. You’re the safest thing that’s ever happened to him in such a dangerous world.

“You will wait for me, right? 2 years is a long time. What if you met someone?” You appreciate his honesty. Him being vocal about his fears. You appreciate that he doesn’t hide from you. All you wish is for those fears to vanish. There’s no way you’re leaving him. Ever.

“I will wait for you as long as you want me to.”

“I will always want you to.”

“Good. We have a deal then.”

“It’s almost 11, shall we go to bed? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” You suggest. He - technically you too - will have to wake up early. His parents were coming from Busan early in the morning to send him off.

“I’m not sleepy. Fuck, how am I going to fix my sleep routine, it’s seriously messed up.”

“I can’t think of a better place than the military for it.”

He pauses then laughs as it finally dawns on him. “How come I didn’t think of that?”

“You’re so out of it Jay Kay.”

“Mm, yeah. But I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“Yup. Definitely. Also, we don’t have to sleep just yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I thought we’d cuddle a little.”

It’s probably what you’re going to miss the most in his absence at home: his cuddles,

“And a one last ‘see ya’ fuck before I leave?” Wiggling his eyebrows, he looks at you with a glint of mischief and lust in his doe eyes.

Maybe that too. God, he seriously has no shame… he was crying just now this little shit.

To that, you can’t help but to tease, “When you put it like that, I guess I’ll pass.”

“Babyy, please. You got me all excited and stuff.”

He’s cute. A cute guy that makes you smile. Always. Even now you are smiling.

His pouty lips look so plump and kissable. You’re so used to seeing the ring there, that it feels weird now that it’s gone. “It’s a good luck, ‘I love you’ and a please be well fuck.”

“Mm yes, talk dirty to me.”

But you don’t do that tonight when your bodies are wrapped under the sheets. Instead, you just affirm and make love to him like you want to make sure he feels all the love you want to give. Maybe for the first time in weeks, he falls into a serene sleep, snuggled into your chest.

“It’s time to go.” You hear someone yell. Time does fly whenever you wish it doesn’t. But it still does fly when you wish it does. You just need to allow it. Your heart squeezes a little but you try to breathe through it. He’ll be okay.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t get cold. Call me whenever you can.”

“I will do all that. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you. I’ll wait for you to come home to me.”

“I’ll come running, baby. Trust me.” He brings you in for a hug and gives you the quickest kiss allowed before turning away to say his goodbyes to his family.

You can’t wait for him to return but as he’s away, you wish him the best and in your heart pray that everything will be okay.

#jungkook #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook au #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fic #bts imagines #bts #btsoneshot #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook fluff

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the-possum-writes · 7 months

Note

Hi! Could you do a Finn x Fem reader lemon? Maybe it could be with and inexperienced reader while finn already has some knowledge about it and shows her how to do it. Thank you! <3

[Finn teaching an Inexperienced Reader]

❥Character: Finn Mertens ❥Tags: NS/FW hc's, handj0bs, established relationship, fem!reader ❥Synopsis: Finn takes things slow with you but you convince him to teach you how he likes to be touched. ❥A/N: I was going through a writing block so there's no full smut but rather some handsy stuff.

❥Whether you've been dating for years or just a few weeks, if you tell Finn you want to take things slowly, he'll respect your wishes.

❥Only kissing and hugging, nothing more.

❥But that doesn't take away how startling it is when a kissing session becomes too intense, and just as you feel the warmth cling to your heart and stomach in a tightening squeeze, Finn pulls away from you and acts as if nothing happened, resuming whatever video game you were playing or changing the subject.

❥You know where babies come from and all that basic biology class, but you have yet to personally experience it and are kind of wary of unplanned pregnancies, that's why you told Finn you wanted to take things slow.

❥And he was okay with that, but it didn't stop the growing doubt since you know he's had past encounters with other girls before. "Is he getting frustrated at me cause I'm making him wait?" you'd start asking yourself.

❥Finn is a passionate and outgoing guy who pours his heart into everything he does, whether it's fighting monsters, reading comic books, or simply indulging in his favorite meals. And, given how much he adores you, you're filled with illogical guilt at the thought of preventing Finn from physically expressing his feelings for you.

❥You've already asked him directly. "Finn, are you mad that we haven't done couple things?"

"But we always do couple things."

"No I mean like, tier 15 stuff and all that."

"Oh... Not really.."

❥He's a straightforward and laid-back guy, so it didn't occur to you until lately when, on a day when you didn't feel confident, you pushed yourself to kiss him by placing your hand on his thigh and running it upward. Finn stopped you by holding your hand so he could ask you, "Are you sure you want to do this now?" You try to kiss his neck while saying, "I know you've been dying to-," but Finn is insistent. If there's anything he's learnt from his previous relationship, it's to avoid diving into pleasures on a whim. "It's not about what I want, I'm asking about you." His tone has changed a little bit, especially in light of your earlier question.

❥As self-doubt circles in your thoughts and seeps beyond your eyes, you choose to keep quiet, but Finn squooze-hugs you to his chest. "We don't need to rush anything; I'm pretty happy with you so far. We can do those things when you don't have any more uncertainties in your lovely head."

❥"But what if I do wanna do those things but I want to take it a small step at a time? Like when you taught me how to swim." you bring up. Finn adjusts his hold on you, the two of you were in the middle of a movie night and are currently on the couch. Jake is already asleep and BMO is probably lurking around the treefort but he promised to not peep at you two during visiting hours.

❥"Alright, there's something I can teach ya but we have to keep our voices down. You don't need to take off anything so don't worry, we'll just be using your hands."

❥Finn leans back on the couch's headrest, allowing you to rest on his thighs as he tells you."How about I give you a lesson in Finn-biology?" he chuckles."I can't say no to my favorite subject." you respond. Considering the stories and experiences you've heard from your close friends, you have only a rough idea of what he's considering, but you're nonetheless anxious, intrigued, and interested about it.

❥Finn starts out by smooching you, easing a bit of your nerves as he gently grabs your hand and lowers it down his chest until it reaches his groin, he motions for you to rub him through his shorts, feeling something grow underneath.

❥It's warm, really warm.

❥Finn raises himself from the couch to lower his shorts with his underwear, and you remain silent while watching his half hard dick peeking out from the confines of his baby blue trousers. You temptingly touch his head with the tip of your fingers, unconsciously wrapping more and more of your around around him until he finches a bit, pulling away at the discouragement. "It's okay, it just needs something slick." he assures you. At the mention of it you're unconsciously rubbing your thighs together upon feeling something getting wet downstairs, but you don't bring it up.

❥The attention has Finn squirming in his spot but he continues with the lesson.

"Give me your hand." he asks. When you do he purposely spits on his dick and guides your hand to smear it all over him, amplifying the prominent musky smell coming from him.

"It's sensitive here." he explains in short breaths, hearing his panting picking up the more you run your fingers over the underside of his shaft right where it connects with his pink gland.

❥Once you've gotten the hang of it, Finn releases your hand and lets you try a few more things. What if I squeeze here? What if I touch this tiny hole with my finger? What if I gently squeeze his balls? Finn struggles to form meaningful sentences any longer and is only able to utter things like, "Just like that," "That feels good," and "Wait not like that, there you go... Oh Glob..."

❥It's a hypnotic and undeniably sexy experience, watching him lose himself in his own pleasure to the point where he forgot the reason for this little lesson until he came all over your palm and soiled his own shirt in the process.

#finn the human x reader #finn mertens x reader #adventure time #reader insert #fern mertens #finn the human #adventure time x reader

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din-miller · 1 year

Text

Dress For The Job

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You're used as bait during a mission on Nevarro. Din isn't pleased with the situation

Warnings: angst mixed with a good amount of fluff, gender neutral reader but reader wears a dress, married couple, hardcore flirting, badass reader, his first name is Din, canon-typical violence, implications to sexy times.

Nevarro's typically mellow near midday, more accustomed to the elderly citizens dawdling through the markets, reminiscing on their younger years as the wind blows a faint breeze and the local bakeries flood the marketplace with their fresh aromas.

According to Greef, pirates have been stealing from the marketplace, breaking into people's homes and ransacking them. There have been three reported deaths in the last two months.

That's where you and Din come in. You've both been hired to track down any pirates and turn them in.

That was two weeks ago. When you and Din dropped off Grogu on Tatooine with Peli, you both promised to be back in a few days.

A few days, four at most.

Not two weeks.

You're definitely paying a hefty interest rate when you do pick up the kid. It's a good thing Greef is willing to pay you handsomely.

You could tell the High Magistrate was getting antsy the longer the pirates roamed Navarro. Din wasn't much better. During the days he would be tracking every lead possible, during the nights you would hold him in your arms and tell him to breathe.

You weren't much better, really. There's this frustration that's humming through your body. An anger that's boiling in your veins the longer you're away from Grogu.

Last night was the hardest night you've had in a while. Din had finally given up on his newest dead end lead and crawled into bed with you. He pulled you against his chest, which fell and raised with each unsteady breath. He missed Grogu and the cracks in his voice as he spoke had you crying into his chest, his own tears falling into your hair.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to Greef's newest plan the next morning without a second thought.

Under the hot sun, warmth seeping into your black shirt, you're definitely starting to regret saying yes. Kicking a small stone you mumbled under your breath, "Standing around waiting to get kidnapped. Not exactly the highlight of my life."

Through your earpiece Din huffed, definitely still displeased with this plan, "Just stay focused, Greef said they should be here today."

"They better be, I'm not sweating through my good shirt for nothing." You sighed, armpits already feeling sticky, "I've never been used as bait before. Am I doing a good job?"

Din doesn't answer. Which isn't a surprise. He's been ignoring you since you took Greef's side and stripped yourself bare of all weapons but one to stand in the middle of the marketplace to be discovered by a group of pirates who've already murdered three people.

Okay, putting it that way does make Din's reaction understandable. Greef had worded it better.

"Mando, it's going to be okay, I promise. Besides I'm armed and you're only a few blocks away if it goes south."

"I know, cyare, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy that my riduur decided to put themself in a dangerous position."

You want to point out that he did the same thing back on Tatooine cycles ago. Played bait for Cobb Vanth. You're not going to though, not when his breathing is heavy through the earpiece like it's taking everything in him to remember how to take in a steady breath.

You quickly glance over to where he's hidden from view a few rooftops over. You sent him a look, one that reassures him that you'll take every safe precaution available.

You're not offended by the way your husband is acting like you can't handle yourself. You both know you can, you've done it dozens of times before. It's just his nature to worry; about you, about Grogu, about his friends.

You start to lazily stroll through the marketplace, keeping yourself in Din's line of sight as much as possible.

You've kept the line open – Din doing the same on his end – and you do your best to minimise your lip movement when you speak, "I was thinking maybe after this we could relax on Sorgan for a couple weeks. That'll be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Focus."

You rolled your eyes at that, "We haven't been back there since our honeymoon, or at least our version of a honeymoon. Most couples don't normally fight off raiders during their romantic getaways."

There's a soft chuckle from Din's end, "When have we ever fit into the category of normal?"

"I still have my wedding dress," You commented, enjoying the way his breath hitched at it, "It's been a few years but I'd imagine I could still fit into it."

"Cyare."

You grinned at his warning, you know he's recalling the moment he first saw you in the dress, "Like you haven't thought about it before. We share the same bed and you occasionally mumble in your sleep."

"I do not, i- it doesn't matter, please just focus–" There's a second of silence, then your name and a string of curse words fell from his lips, "They're here."

Your chest tightened. It doesn't matter how long you've been chasing down bounties, there's always a moment of fear that settles in your bones.

"Where?"

"South entrance. Three males, all human, all armed."

Rocks crunch underneath your heel as you sharply turn to face south, "Three? Huh, I figured there would be more, I'm kind of disappointed."

"Considering it's just you down there only armed with a blade, three is too damn many."

For a second you wish you could pull him into your arms, tell him it's okay with delicate touches. You can't though, so you settled on a soft 'I love you' and tried to gain the attention of the three men.

"I'm not drawing their attention." You're getting frustrated. Eyeing the closest clothing booth, an idea sprung to life, "I need to stand out more."

Grabbing a dress to change into, you head into the small fresher. You'll pay for the dress later, right now you're on a time limit.

"What are you doing? I don't have eyes on you." Din's voice is octave higher, a clear sign that he is beginning to panic.

"I don't think I'm in much danger inside the fresher, honey."

The dress is a little complicated to put on, multiple straps that seemingly do nothing functional, but it's definitely flattering on you. It highlights curves you didn't even realise you have.

"Yeah, because pirates are known for their decency." Din grunted, eyes scanning every little crook and nanny around the small fresher, "What did you even get anyway?"

"You'll see." You smirked to yourself. You're well aware you're attractive, Din tells you often, normally followed by a little worshipping, sometimes sexual, sometimes not.

The dress has a slit which makes the knife strapped to your thigh easier to grab if needed. Which you hope it isn't, you're not in the mood for things to get bloody.

With a quick glance in the mirror, chasing away any lumps in the dress' fabric, you swiftly exited the fresher. There's shocked sputtering coming from Din's side of the comm. Your heart fluttered happily, satisfied with his reaction. Probably more than you should be, but heck it's not every day you get to dress nicely.

When Din spoke again you could tell it's through clenched teeth, "What. Are. You. Wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing? It's just something I found." You smirked, sending a wink his way before sobering up, "I have eyes on them. I'm going to get their attention and try to lead them down a back alley."

Din sighed, shifting to allow his weapon to follow your pathway, "Please be careful. I'd rather not spend the night stitching you up."

You hummed and couldn't hold back one last teasing smirk, "Is there something else you'd rather be doing tonight?"

"Don't get stabbed and you'll find out."

You blushed, cheeks burning a pretty pink colour, "I'm holding you to that, babe."

Unfortunately for you, things did end up getting bloody. Fortunately for you, you didn't end up getting stabbed.

You dropped the last guy just as Din came barreling down the alley. You have your boot pressed against the pirate's chest underneath you, not that it was necessary since he's unconscious, and your knife is sliding back into its holster with a flick of your wrist.

You beam up at your husband, hand gesturing to the three unconscious men around you, "What do you think? Not bad huh?"

Din shook his head, voice almost urgent, "Are you hurt?"

"Not a drop of blood," You reassured him as you used the man underneath you to clean off the dirt on your boot before stepping back, "Might have some fancy bruises tomorrow morning but that's expected."

With a sigh, Din started gathering the men up for Greef to come deal with, "I'll apply some Bacta when we get back to the ship. I want to be gone by nightfall, I'm afraid Peli might file for adoption papers if we're not back soon."

She wouldn't but the thought of it made you laugh, "Hey she can have split custody if that means we can take a trip to Sorgan." You bumped your hip against Din's as you pass him, "How about you wait here for Greef and I'll go return this dress."

A hand quickly wrapped around your waist stopping you from leaving and your face is suddenly inches from Din's. Your husband kept a hand around the back of your waist as the other slowly trailed up your spine.

Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. Your both not normally one for public display of affection, but the way his helmet quickly fogs over at your warm breath has you not caring.

Finally his gloved hand reaches the top of your spine and your dress is yanked back, a quiet snapping sound hits your ears. You pulled back from his embrace with a frown.

Din brought his hand around and hanging from his thumb and index finger is a small cardboard rectangular object, "You can't return things without the tag."

You can't help but snort at his antics, "That's not how that works, babe."

Din shrugged, "Maybe not, but we have roughly thirteen hours before we touch down on Tatooine and I want to see how pretty that dress is all spread out on our bed."

And fuck, you just saved their planet, at the very least they owe you a dress.

#mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x gender neutral reader #din djarin #Justice Joy Writes #angst and fluff #married couple #married couple | the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader

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artemismoorea03 · 8 months

Text

DPx Marvel: The Bet

When Phantom joined the Avengers they were already aware of some of his abilities. The transformation that gave him the rest of his abilities, flight, invisibility, intangibility, and ectoplasmic fire. They thought they knew it all.

Until Bruce saw something floating across the room one end to where Danny was. It was Danny's phone and after an injury left Danny bed ridden or a time as he recovered. Upon making said discovery he quickly added "Telekinesis" to the list.

A few weeks later Tony learned Danny had Cryokinesis when he got sick and ended up freezing half of the room with a thick layer of unmeltable ice.

Clint was the one who learned about his Electrokinesis when he decided to prank the kid and Danny's revenge was an ever so gentle zap to his ribcage every time he passed him for three days.

Natasha figured out that he had Photokinesis when the two of them got stuck in a dark cave during a cave in and Danny used his abilities to help lead them out of the cave and to safety.

Steve learned that Danny had Aerokinesis when he got into an argument with the teenager about being irresponsible. It was minor but the air in the room shifted and a lot of papers went flying and one of the couches slid a good two feet away from Danny.

Thor was the one who learned that Danny could breathe under water when he found Danny at the bottom of the pool after the argument with Steve. Thor ended up joining Danny and the two stayed down there together for a few hours until Danny was cooled down enough to come to the surface.

"I swear, ever time I turn around he has a new ability." Clint said, exhausted as he sat with the rest of the adults around the table. Danny had gone to watch a movie with Peter, leaving the rest of the team a chance to talk about the stuff they'd seen.

"Why not ask him what his powers are again?" Bruce suggested, "We can also make sure we ask for all of his powers this time."

"Or we make a bet out of it." Tony suggested.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Do you have to make a bet out of everything?"

"Yes. It keeps things interesting. I bet... two months of cleaning duties that he has at most 25 powers." Tony offered.

"No way." Steve said, "He can't have more than 20."

"Wanna bet on that?" Tony pressed as Steve glared.

"Sure."

Bruce sighed looking at Natasha who seemed defeated too.

"I'm thinking 30 and I'll bet three months on that." Clint said.

"I would like to join on this bet as well. I suspect Hel Son has at least 50!" Thor said as Loki - who was visiting for the day - glanced up at him with a raised brow.

"50?" Loki checked, "That is the number you wish to go with?"

"I can't believe I'm going to agree with Loki on this but that's a pretty big number, Thor. You sure?" Bruce checked.

"Positive!"

Bruce shrugged, "I'm going to go with with Steve on this, I don't think he has many powers left to show."

"Hm... I'm going to go with Clint." Natasha finally said, as she and Clint bumped fists.

"What about you, Loki? Do you not wish to join?" Thor asked his brother.

Loki thought about it for a moment, then smiled. "Very well. I'm going to bet that you're all wrong and that Thor's number is too low. But I also am not willing to guess how many powers has."

"Considering that's a long shot, Loki, you have that bet." Tony smirked.

As the numbers climbed higher and higher the 'long shot' Loki took was starting to look more and more promising. Especially when Danny developed a brand new power in the field one day and just looked at the team with a surprised look.

"Uh... I've never done that before..."

Only then did Loki's long shot make sense.

Danny was still getting new powers and not even Loki knew when they would stop developing.

#dpxmarvel #I was bored #not super happy with this #but here it is

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crazyunsexycool · 5 months

Text

Unbreakable

Chapter 6

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: talks about sexual assault/rape, domestic violence, gunshot wound, blood, fluff, lil bit of angst,

A/N: I love these two so much. I'm going to start doing some time jumps on this series soon so be ready for that.

Series Masterlist

“Today isn’t a good day for me. It would have been my fifth year anniversary with my ex if he hadn’t disappeared during the blip.” You share in the group. “If he hadn’t disappeared, who knows what would have happened to me. He was literally about to kill me when he turned to dust. I’m not sure why I feel so sad about it. I don’t think sad is the right word, I don’t miss him at all. My life is better now. ”

Mervin sits up and rests his head on your lap. His big eyes tracking your movements.

“I guess I’m just overwhelmed because I know what he would have done today. He would’ve beat me until I could barely move, then dragged me to bed and forced me to have sex and when he was satisfied he’d make me get up and make him something to eat. If I cried or tried to fight him, he’d just say how ungrateful I was for not appreciating that he was spending time with me. So now that he’s not here I know I don’t have to worry about it but I feel like I have to look over my shoulder today to make sure he doesn’t show up out of nowhere. I know it doesn’t make sense but I can’t shake the feeling.”

The other people in the group nod in understanding. This was the first time you’d shared in the group but the date was one of the worst you had to live through. You needed to talk about it and hoped that with time it would get easier. Lisa sat next to you and she extended a hand for you to take which you did. Giving her a grateful smile as she squeezed your hand in order to give her some comfort.

“These last few months have been interesting to say the least. I am learning self defense and it’s helped a lot. A good friend of mine recommended it.” You look at Lisa. “I've made new friends because of it too. I hadn’t had a friend in so long so it’s nice to have someone to share life’s ups and downs with. But I’m having more good days than bad days and I take that as a win.”

Your mind went straight to Steve. Although the last few weeks have felt like a little more than just a friendship blossoming between the two of you. It was all still new and you weren’t sure if you were ready for a real relationship yet but it was nice to have a deeper connection with someone.

“I guess that’s everything for me, for now at least.”

Someone else started talking but your mind was elsewhere by then. Steve had been on a mission along with Nat and Rhodey so you hadn’t heard from him in a few days. That added to your stress. Fortunately Lisa was with you so you weren’t completely alone.

Once the meeting is done you and Lisa walk out arm in arm and head toward a nearby cafe. Your phone vibrates and you grab it to check your messages.

“Oh no.” You mutter as you type.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go Lisa, I’m so sorry to cut this short.” You respond as you begin to walk back out of the cafe. “I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

You rushed through the double doors and into the waiting room. Nat and Rhodey, who you met during one of your training sessions, were sitting side by side.

“What happened?” You asked once you got closer. “Are you guys ok?”

“We’re fine.”

“You don’t look fine Nat. Has anyone checked either of you for injuries?”

“They will in a minute. Come sit.” She pats the empty chair next to her.

While you sit beside her Marvin rests his head on her lap. His big eyes look up at her with concern until Nat starts to pet him.

“He’ll be fine.” She says after a moment. “He heals quickly, there were just a few injuries they had to patch up to help the process along.”

“Of course. What about you, Rhodey?”

“Suit took most of the damage. These are just some scratches.”

“Ok good.” You smile at him.

For the next few hours the three of you wait. You talk to a nurse to get Nat some help and walk Marvin. Then when you’re seated again you can’t help but fidget and fuss over Nat and Rhodey. Your leg bounces and you play with Marvin’s leash or pet his head. During that time Nat tells you that she was up against a few guys at the same time. Steve jumped in to help and one of them had a machine gun. Steve’s solution was to use his body as a shield and protect Nat.

“Rogers?” A surgeon calls out from a set of doors on the opposite side of the room.

You, Nat and Rhodey immediately stand up and head toward him.

“He’s out of surgery, everything is looking good. He’s heavily sedated but someone should be out to escort you up to his room. Only one person at a time for now.”

You all thank him and then you turn to the two people next to you.

“Why don’t you guys go home? You need the rest and I can stay here. I’ll text you once he’s awake and keep you updated.” You suggest.

Rhodey and Nat look at each other and silently agree.

“Ok but at the first sign of any kind of trouble you call Rhodey first. He can get here faster.” Nat says. “Also there’ll be a cop at his door, it’s just a precaution so that people don’t try and take pictures or do something while Steve is asleep.”

“Ok.” You nod. “Go get some rest, you deserve it.”

Nat gives you a quick hug and then Rhodey helps her out. She’s definitely in more pain than she lets on. A nurse walks out and calls for you to follow her up to the room Steve has been moved to.

****

You aren’t sure what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. All you know is that something is moving against your hand. Then you remember where you are and you bolt up straight. Your glasses are crooked since you didn’t take them off before you fell asleep. In a quick motion you fix them and look at Steve to find him awake. He’s giving you a lopsided and hazy smile.

“Hey,” you say as you move to sit at the edge of the bed. One hand takes the one that was holding yours and the other moves to push the hair that fell onto his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel s’good.”

You giggle at his slurred speech.

“You’re really hopped up on meds.”

“S’kay. It’s like before.” Steve says as he blinks slowly at you.

“Like before? You mean before the serum?”

“Mmhmm. Used to be sick all the time.”

“Well that explains so much. But you won’t be like this for long.”

“Ok.”

You take a moment to call the nurse and a few minutes later someone comes in to check up on Steve. Seeing that he’s awake they stop the meds so that his body can flush them out. It doesn’t take long, about fifteen minutes in Steve is more lucid.

“Where’s Nat?” He asks as he looks around the room.

He sees Marvin itching to get up on the bed and he pats the bed. Marvin happily jumps up and makes himself comfortable, relishing in the attention he’s getting from Steve. The two have bonded over the last few weeks, especially on the long runs they take.

“I told her to go rest. But she knows you’re ok.” You wave your phone to let him know you’re texting her. “I made sure she got checked out by someone before she left though.”

“Ok, good.”

With a sigh Steve lays his head back and closes his eyes. Although the medication is mostly out of his system he’s still feeling some of the effects. You watch him and then sit back down beside the bed, taking his hand in the process.

“Thank you for being here.” He says and you look up to find him looking at you again.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do, you don’t have to spend your time with me, yet here you are.” He smiles at you.

“I want to spend my time with you. Besides I was worried sick when Nat messaged me. I know you did it to protect her but never ever do that again.” You try to sound stern but the worry comes through.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to stay safe on these missions.”

You both sit in silence for a while. Steve’s thumb moves back and forth over your hand. Overall it’s comforting to be there with him after having missed him for the last few days. Slowly you start nodding off, it had been a very emotionally draining day for you after all.

“Why don’t you go home? You shouldn’t be here so uncomfortable because of me.”

“It’s so late.” You mumble. “I’d rather stay here, it’s safer.”

“Then get up here. I’m not having you sleep on a chair.”

Steve moves to give you some space but you end up draped over most of him. He doesn’t mind one bit and honestly neither do you. This isn’t the first time it happened, both of you sharing a bed. Hopefully it won’t be the last either. Slowly the two of you drift off to sleep. There’s no place safer than in each other’s arms.

“Sit.” You gently push Steve toward his bed at the compound.

“I’m not Marvin. You can’t just give me commands.” He chuckles as he moves towards his bed.

“You were shot multiple times, you need rest. And you’re right you’re not Marvin. He listens the first time I tell him to do something.”

“There, happy?” Steve says as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yes, maybe you deserve a treat.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs. “Do I get to choose?”

“I’ll think about it. Now go get comfortable.”

“You’re so bossy.”

You shrug a shoulder as you move around Steve’s room. His uniform was in your hand and you could see the bullet holes and blood. You must have been staring down at it for longer than you realized because Steve is standing in front of you and pulling the uniform out of your hands.

“Hey,” Steve sets the uniform aside and cups your face so that you’d look at him. He was surprised to see tears in your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m right here with you.”

You try to blink back the tears as you grip the front of his hoodie. It’s been a few short weeks but having Steve in your life made it better. He was a strong yet gentle presence in your life. He’d provided comfort when he didn’t have too. So to lose him would be devastating.

“When I got that message, I was so scared.” You say in a whisper, the lump in your throat making it difficult to talk. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again.”

Steve kisses the top of your head as you wrap your arms around his midsection. You cry against Steve’s chest while he reassures you that he’s not going anywhere.

“Now you really deserve a treat for dealing with my tears.” You joke as you pull away.

“I’d deal with your tears whenever you’d need me to. No treat needed.”

You smile. “Go lay down. I’m gonna check up on Nat and Rhodey.”

****

Rhodey was fine, like he said his suit took most of the damage. Nat is who you were worried about. You had a tray with some food and tea you’d seen her make before. With a soft knock you walk into the office she’d been using.

“How are you feeling today?” You ask as you set the tray down.

“Good.”

“Please don’t lie to me. The doctor said you had some cracked ribs and I know they’re painful.”

Nat looks up at you, sorrow darkens her green eyes for just a moment.

“You’re right. Everything hurts but I can’t stop working.”

You just nod in understanding.

“Well I won’t take up any of your time, unless you want to talk. Just wanted to bring you something and some pain meds.”

Nat smiles as she looks over what you’ve brought, all of her favorites.

“Thanks. How’s Rogers doing?”

“He’s fine. I’m making him rest.”

“And he’s following orders?” Nat raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think if I cry he’d do what I ask.” You chuckle.

“He’d do what you ask no matter what.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, have you really not noticed his feelings for you?”

You took the empty seat across from Nat and just stared at her.

“I’ll preface this by saying Steve would absolutely never do anything you don’t want. He’s never going to push you or make you uncomfortable and he’d only be your friend if you decide you don’t ever want a relationship. But it’s safe to say he cares about you deeply. I know you’ve only known each other a few weeks but trust me when I say he’s smitten.” Nat gives you a soft smile. “I think it’s safe to say you feel the same way.”

You aren’t sure what to say. Sure there were some feelings or something there. But to have someone else point it out was eye opening. Were the two of you that oblivious?

“I d-don’t-”

“Just think about it but I think it’s a conversation you should have sooner rather than later. If you know you don’t want a relationship with him don’t string him along. Steve’s been through a lot and I don’t think he could take another heartbreak.”

“I would never do that.” You shake your head.

“I know. I also want you to know that I’d like to see you happy too. Steve’s a good man and you’re good for each other. Just think about it before you make a decision.”

You nod and get up. “I’m gonna go check up on him.”

“Ok. And thanks for this.”

“Yeah, of course.”

When you get back to Steve’s room you notice he’s asleep. Marvin lays at his side but wags his tail lazily when he sees you.

“Wanna go for a walk Marv?” You whisper.

Marvin’s head shoots up at the mention of a walk and he happily gets off Steve’s bed. With leash in hand you set to take a walk out and around the compound. You took the opportunity to call Lisa who had messaged you a few times to see if you were ok.

The phone rings a few times before she picks up.

“Hey Y/N, are you ok? You left me a bit worried yesterday.” She says.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that my friend Steve was hurt while on the job and was taken to the hospital.”

“Hhmm, and you rushed out to see him.” You can hear the teasing in her voice. “He seems pretty special if he has you running around like that.”

You fluster even though you can’t see her. But you can just see her face and the mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I imagine that you’re still in the hospital. Need me to get you anything?”

“No it’s ok, he was released this morning. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Is everything ok? Are you safe?”

“Yes,” you smile at her genuine concern. It was nice to have friends that cared about your well-being. “I just need some advice.”

“Oh, ok. Well I’m all ears.”

“So for the last few weeks I’ve been thinking that there has been something happening between me and Steve.”

“Like romantic feelings are blossoming?”

“Yes and today a mutual friend told me how much he cares about me but that he would never pressure me into a relationship or anything.”

“And the question is?” Lisa asks as you continue to ramble.

“How did you know that you were ready to be in a relationship?”

“Well that’s different for everyone. For me I just knew that I felt safe with my partner. I mean I also had those butterflies whenever I saw her. I missed her when she wasn’t around and I couldn’t wait to see her again.”

“Yeah, sounds about right. I'm just not sure. What if he doesn’t like me when he sees how messed up I truly am.”

“If you’re not ready then, you’re not ready. If he really wants to be with you he’ll wait. And when you’re ready you should tell him about what happened, only if you’re ready.”

“You’re right. If he brings it up I’ll just tell him. Everything.”

“Do what’s best for you. When you’re ready for a relationship you’ll know.”

“Thanks Lisa. I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

“Right back at you, hun. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will. Bye.”

****

You get back to Steve's room just as he opens his door. He gives you a sleepy smile.

“I was wondering where my nap buddy went.”

“Just took him for a walk.” You look down at Marvin with a smile. “Were you heading out?”

“No. I was just going to get my mission report to work on it and stay in bed.”

“Oh ok. I’ll let you get to it, I should probably go home anyways.”

“Wait, don't go. We can still spend some time together. Only if you want of course.” He gives you a hopeful smile.

“Yeah, I’d like to stay.”

“Good.” Steve moves aside to let you into his room. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Once Steve leaves you walk back to the room you’ve been given at the compound to change into something more comfortable and get your book. You head back to Steve’s room and sit with your back to the headboard.

While waiting for Steve to get back you get lost in the book you’re reading so you don’t notice Steve standing in the doorway. He smiles and watches you for just a moment. You’re comfortable in his space and he never realized how much that meant to him until now. Even if he didn’t mean to, Steve can’t help but fall for you. If you asked him for the world he’d give it to you. Really he’d do anything to see the smile you give him when you look up from your book.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah.” Steve moves to his side of the bed. “Everything’s ok. What are you reading?”

You flip the book so that Steve could see the cover of your favorite book. One you reread multiple times.

“It’s my favorite.”

“I can see that it’s loved.” He says referring to how worn the spine is and the little notes on the margin.

“It is.”

You smile up at Steve before turning back to the book. Steve gets his file and starts writing out what you assume is his report. He’d put on some soft music, specifically something from the 30’s he’d recommend before.

You rest your head against Steve’s shoulder. “I really like you Steve.” Your voice was low but you knew he heard you and you couldn’t help but look up at him.

He simply turned his head and smiled down at you and placed a kiss on your forehead. Steve closed his file folder and set it on his nightstand.

“Done already?”

“No but the report can wait another day.”

“Why?”

Steve smiles again before he replies. “Because I really like you too and I’d much rather spend my time with you. I had to learn the hard way to prioritize who and what’s important to me before it’s too late. I don’t plan to make that same mistake again.”

The butterflies are there. How could they not be when Steve looks at you as if you’re hung the moon and the stars, which you’d do if he asked you too. He snakes his arm around your waist and you feel safe in his arms.

“Should we watch something off our list?” He asks as he grabs the tv remote.

“That sounds good.” You say as you place the bookmark back in its place and set the book on the nightstand.

Marvin gets up on the bed and turns in circles until he finds the perfect spot. This was a slice of heaven for you. The safe haven you’d been looking for when you’d thought hope was lost. Now your feelings for each other are out in the open. Surprisingly it puts you at ease to know your feelings were reciprocated. Whatever happens next you knew it would be a step in the right direction.

Ch. 7

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#Unbreakable series #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers seres #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #Marvin the dog #Marvin is a a good boy #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst

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call-sign-shark · 2 months

Text

Following the heart-wrenching posts of @red-riding-wood, @kittenonpluto and @aurorag98 I feel like I have to write this. By no means I have experienced traumatizing interactions with @mrkdvidal1989 aka Killian Vidal but this whole situation and what he did to girls here make me enraged.

First of all, I want to reassure all the beloved mutuals who have been reaching out to me or who have been worried about my well-being because they saw me interacting a few times with Killian. I am perfectly fine and I'm not much here this week because I have been working a lot.

As for my relationship with Killian... Well, we were barely talking to each other actually. I know I am bad at replying to my DMs but this is not the reason why I ghosted him -- I purposefully did so because, like many of you, the guy gave me the biggest red flags. We talked a few times, and he called me hot when he saw the gym pics/selfies I posted. He quickly suggested we meet together to go to the gym and watch horror movies during my stay in the UK and to this I replied positively while knowing I would never ever do so. Right from the start I suspected him to be a liar and I felt he had built up everything about his life. Also, I come from a military family with many relatives working in special units of the French Navy, and let me tell you something: I screamed at the thought of a former soldier (from the SAS!! lmao) spending all of his time writing reader-insert fanfic for a female audience and discussing with Cillian fangirls. I don't say it's impossible, but it's VERY unlikely.

To me, Killian was just an attention-seeking catfish I'd never meet and who I found both boring and childish. In my opinion, I thought he just wanted to have a small court around him to strut around, nothing more. I tried to search for info about him to warn people, I mean I even doubted he was a man... However, I found nothing plus he seemed to be IRL friends with a few mutuals here who actually chatted with him via phone so I didn't want to take the risk of spreading hate about someone just because of a gut feeling. Never in a million years, I would have imagined he was toying with girls from the Peaky Blinders community, collecting nudes, gaslighting/harassing them, breaking them into pieces, promising marriage, and going as far as to promise a life-saving medical treatment to a dear friend of mine. I am devastated by what I have read this morning, and "devasted" is not even powerful enough. Learning from Red that he talked about fucking me when we meet while we never talk about sex, never flirted or anything (we just small-talked once in a while lmao) might be a bit creepy but it's nothing compared to what he has done to girls here.

I am deeply sorry to all the people who have been hurt by his horrible actions and are now facing long-term consequences because of him, some of them being my close mutuals. I send positive vibes, love, and healing to every one of you who had to deal with this psycho. I know a lot of people have already said that but my DMs are opened if you need a safe place. The Peaky Blinders / Cillian Murphy community is a nice place, maybe the most welcoming place I've ever seen on the Internet but we should all keep in mind that it is not safe from ill-intentioned users and predators. Please stay safe and, for the victims, don't blame yourself. You haven't been naive nor stupid or anything. The only one to blame is the person behind Killian Vidal's persona, and for the evil you've done, I hope you'll get fucked with a chainsaw. Or just fucking rot in hell.

Shark.

#PSA #predator warning #Cillian Murphy #Peaky Blinders #Mrkvidal1989

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pisspope · 1 year

Text

been writing this off and on for about a month and now im finally... finally finished

Waffle House Hashbrowns (Smothered & Covered)

reiner x reader

cw: afab reader, fem reader (wears skirt, gets called a good girl) softdom reiner, spit kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, mdni

"You want me to what?"

"You heard me. I want you to spit on me next time we have sex."

Reiner is bamboozled, flabbergasted, stupefied. Him? Spit on you? The person he loves most on this earth? Why would he do that?

"You must be joking."

"No, I'm not. I think it'd be really hot."

Reiner blinks twice, slowly. This makes no sense. "But why would I do that?"

You sigh, sit up on your shared bed. "Because I want you to and it's sexy? If it makes you uncomfortable we don't have to."

Reiner swallows hard, feeling backed into a corner of his own creation. He wants to please you in every way possible, and that means never degrading or disrespecting you. But if the only way to please you is to degrade you, well, he can't exactly say no. He touches your arm, gently keeping you in place. "No, I'll do it. I'll do it for you."

You laugh lightly, move your other hand to lay on top of his. "You don't need to be so serious about this, Rei. It's supposed to be fun!"

"Sorry," he says, hanging his head. "Just have trouble. You know I never want to make you feel lesser. You... you mean everything to me."

You pout a little without thinking. He's so sweet sometimes it borders on saccharine. You turn to him, bring all of him that will fit into your smaller frame into a tight hug. "I know how you feel, baby. That's... kind of why I want to try this with you. Because I trust you. I know you won't do anything I don't feel comfortable with."

He digs his chin into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his cheeks burning. He can give you all the flowery words in the world, let you know without a doubt that he's wrapped around your finger, but the second you reciprocate he's a mess. "I said I'll do it. No need to make me cry about it."

You chuckle, knowing that's not just an empty threat. Ever since he confessed his feelings, he's let everything show right on his sleeve, letting you into his inner world without a second thought. "All right, start getting hydrated." You pull away, run a hand through his hair. "I just know your spit is salty from all those peanuts."

He looks shocked, face in a comical 'o'. "What do you mean? I've barely touched the container in the pantry."

"Yeah? And what about the empty one in the trashcan?"

You watch the blush rush up from the line of his t-shirt to his cheeks. Busted. He looks away, defeated. "I'll go fill up my water bottle."

---

It was your normal weekend routine: wake up, run errands that couldn't be done during the work week, come home and get ready for your date night, have a great time with your man, profit. Only your profit margins tonight? Exponential, unprecedented gains.

Reiner's hands are exploring every inch of you the second the front door is closed, keys flung to the floor, leftovers all but forgotten on a side table.

"Can't wait to get you in bed," he murmurs, breath hot on the bare skin of your shoulder. "Gonna make you feel so good, promise."

You almost want to giggle, because this is so unlike him, to be so domineering and borderline possessive, but you're too into it to break the tension. He's trying something new for you, and you're as grateful as you are turned on. Before you can encourage him to keep going, he's swung you back into his arms fully, head close enough to his chest that you can feel the erratic beating of his heart.

And Reiner's nothing if not a man of his word. He picks you up bridal style, one arm doing most of the heavy lifting around your shoulders, while the other grips firmly into the meat of your ass. He ascends the stairs to your shared bedroom on muscle memory, his eyes too busy drinking you in to give mind to much else.

"So beautiful," he whispers, like he can't help himself. He hesitates on the top step, bringing you down to rest your bottom on the bend of his knee. He uses the added support to lean his head down, catching your lips in a deep kiss. "And all mine."

It only takes a few more steps before you're at the foot of your bed, and Reiner hesitates. He chuckles nervously, dances from one foot to the other. "I, uh, forgot to take my shoes off," he breathes, and you realize you're in the same predicament. "Just got too caught up in it."

Before you can assure him that it's fine, it's okay, his mouth is on yours. He's kissing you like he's starved for it, hands dancing excitedly at your waist, your shoulders, your breasts, anywhere he can touch. A well-timed squeeze of your inner thigh forces a small moan from your throat, and he takes that opportunity to plunge his tongue into you, tasting and exploring further. His knee pushes your legs open while he attacks your mouth, grinding lightly against you, just enough to tease.

You look up at him and laugh lightly, adjusting in his arms to kick off your shoes. The two of you had gone to a local restaurant in nicer outfits, but it certainly wasn't a black tie affair. Blouse and skirt for you, button-up and jeans for him. He lays you down gently, toes off his loafers and pushes them under the bed, always the gentleman.

"Sorry," he mutters, wasting no time in clambering on top of you. "Don't want to track mud in the house."

He breaks the kiss to come up for air, a trail of spit connecting your mouths. He glances at it, then smiles at you, eyes hooded. "This what you were talking about?"

You nod up at him, too love drunk to speak. "More," you manage to breathe out, hands snaking up his arms to rest on his shoulderblades, familiar and comfortable.

His smile morphs into a smirk, and those deep golden eyes go dark. "Greedy," he whispers, face impossibly close. He brings a hand to your cheek, caresses it with a feather light touch, before bringing his thumb to your lower lip and pulling your mouth open. "You'll take what I give you."

He leans down like he's going to kiss your open mouth, but instead he sucks in his cheeks, puckers his lips, and slowly lets the spit that coats his mouth drool into your own. With his lips in your mouth and his thumb holding you open, you have no choice but to take it, its warmth pooling and spreading into every corner of you. It's not spitting on you per se, but it is unbearably intimate. Exactly what you'd expect from a man like Reiner.

He breaks away again, taking that same thumb and hand to force your mouth closed. "Swallow," he orders. You comply without a second thought, throat bobbing as you take it all into you. Reiner can't help the little moan that leaves him, seeing you so obedient and hazy-eyed from just the taste of him. He's gonna lose his mind. He can barely huff out a "good girl" as he's unbuttoning your blouse.

And for someone who usually relinquishes all control to you in the bedroom, Reiner is remarkably good at this. Blouse removed, he pulls up your bra and dives for your breasts, licking and sucking and making lewd noises you seldom hear from him. His hands circle around your back, unhooking your bra with the dexterity of a professional. Which, with how much he lavishes over your boobs, may as well be the truth.

Without thinking you respond in kind, bringing your hands up to his collar and working your way down. His blond chest hair peeks out around button four, and you have to resist the urge to grab him by it and pull him close, to devour him in even more open mouthed kisses.

Not tonight. You remind yourself. He's in control.

Breasts now fully freed, he takes one in his mouth and brings his hand to play with the other. He's always been good at this, knows when to pinch and suck and fondle and which spots hit just right, but tonight is different. He's using his tongue more, applying pressure to your nipples and taking as much of you in his mouth as he can. Leaving large open mouthed kisses up and down your chest, pulling away and leaving circles of spit in his wake. He's not just giving your breasts some extra attention; he's smothering them in his saliva, marking them as his own.

And apparently this is something he intends to rectify immediately. With one hand still massaging your breast, the other lifts up the hem of your skirt, revealing your lacy underwear that you had worn just for the occasion. "Oh, baby," he coos at the sight. "Did you get all dolled up just for me?"

The realization alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine, but when he works his way back up to plant a kiss on the shell of your ear and call you his pretty girl, well. You can't help the desperate whine that escapes you. He pulls back to look down at you, lips red and puffy from overuse.

"That good, huh?" He says, voice cocky but expression still so gentle, still so him. "I haven't even touched you yet. I mean really touched you."

You nod, trying not to blush at his honeyed words. He's always loved to praise you in bed, to call you pretty and sweet and all manner of compliments, but the tone tonight is so different. It's not the kind affirmations of an attentive lover, it's the reading of your rights, the growl of a predator circling its prey. And maybe if it were someone else it would scare you, but with Reiner all it does is send a fierce heat straight to your core.

Gently, delicately, he hooks two fingers around the middle of your panties and brings them down, and he can't suppress his groan when he feels the slick that coats the inside. "You're so wet for me. How long have you been like this?"

You look away, embarrassed. "Since we left for our date. I've kind of been looking forward to this."

He chuckles at your confession as he slides your underwear the rest of the way down. "Well," he starts, stowing your panties away in the back pocket of his jeans. "I hope I can live up to your expectations."

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze. "You have so far."

"Good," he says firmly, pulling your legs apart farther with both hands. "Let's try to keep up that momentum."

Without another word, Reiner ducks down to the heat of your cunt, flattening his tongue and licking a thick stripe from your hole to your clit. You moan at the sensation, bring your hand to his head on instinct. But he isn't having that, and swats your hand away with a growl, the low rumble vibrating in all the right ways. He brings his head up, eyes dark and serious, the stain of your precum already wetting his beard.

"No, princess," he says it with stern authority, but makes it a point to bring his right hand to intertwine with yours. "I'm in charge."

He returns to eating you out with an animalistic hunger, working his tongue in between your folds while the sharp bridge of his nose keeps a constant pressure on your aching clit. One hand is still laced in yours while the other rubs small circles around your labia, running up your inner thigh and back down. Reiner is pleasuring you, make no mistake, but the moans that leave his body as he ravishes your insides with his wet muscle assure you that the feeling is mutual.

"Taste so good," you both hear and feel him say, the prickle of his facial hair equally ticklish and arousing. "Want you to cum on my face."

He brings his fingers out of his mouth slowly, with a wet pop, looking annoyed. "I'm sorry," he says sarcastically, leaning down so his head hovers above you. "I thought you wanted my spit, sweetheart. Are you sure yours will do?"

He pulls away after that, causing you to whine at the lost contact. How were you supposed to do what he asked under these conditions? But then you see him take three of his own fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking on them like they're heavensent.

"Reiiii," you whine out, missing his touch. "I can do that for you, c'mon. Lemme taste you, pleaseeeee."

You nod quickly, just wanting his familiar heat back, his taste, his touch, anything. And maybe Reiner's too soft on you, but he relents, sliding those same fingers in your mouth and letting you have your way with them. You take them in greedily, the taste of his skin and spit melding in your mouth deliciously. He should probably do something now, praise you for how good you take him or rub small circles on your clit, but all he can do is stare. At you, so blissed out on just the taste of him, eyes closed and enjoying every sensation. This must be love, he thinks.

Satisfied, you release his fingers from your mouth, pretend you don't notice his eyes boring into you. "Thank you," you breathe, moving his sopping fingers to the bud of your clit. "Please."

Since you asked so nicely, and also because he wants to, needs to touch you, he does as you ask, massaging that bundle of nerves in a way that makes you writhe. A wanton moan leaves your lips, a sound that he can't wait to snatch with his own mouth, kissing you deeply as his fingers dance in perfect rhythm. You can taste yourself in him, can feel the moistness of your own pre on the itch of his stubble. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating.

Soon, you feel that same hand start to drift lower down, two fingers circling around your hole teasingly. You squirm under his delicate touch, a motion that causes him to break away from the haven of your mouth. He looks down at you, eyes dark and analytical, thinking. Maybe this is where he's supposed to punish you for being so bad, supposed to degrade and deride you for your naughty behavior, but he just can't bring himself to do it. Instead, he furrows his brows and ducks back down to your heat, licking around your entrance and peppering your thighs in tiny kisses. And just when you're about to beg for more, for him to just give you what you need please, he plunges two fingers and his tongue deep into you, working everything he has in tandem to bring you to an insurmountable high.

"Reiner," you breathe, a whispered plea to the man below you who is making you come undone with every thrust of his thick fingers, every pulse of his tongue. He's just so fucking good at this. "Reiner, I, fuck, so good."

He hums in approval, stares you down over the slope of your mound, looking hungry and desperate. "C'mon, pretty girl," he growls into you, the pace of his fingers increasing rapidly. "Cum for me baby."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as his tongue returns to your core, fingers curling and hitting the spot that makes you scream every time. He's finger fucking you at a breakneck pace, the wet schlick, schlick, schlick sound of his thrusts accompanied by the sloppy licks and sucks of his lips and tongue. The lewd noises are all you can hear, all you can focus on, and it sends you careening towards your release. You cry out, feeling yourself clench around his thick fingers, vision going white. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm, mouth glued to the lips of your heat, slurping and moaning as he swallows every last drop of your cum. Your head lolls back as you work through every sensation, lost in the depths of unadulterated pleasure.

When you finally get back down to earth, you're almost sent back into the stratosphere by the sight in front of you. Reiner, with his lips pursed, eyes wide and dark, chest heaving, gripping onto your knee with one hand as he undoes his belt with the other. His skin is beaded with sweat, his golden chest hair clumping and curling up in places where your cum has dried, his beard hair glinting with more of the same. He looks like a Greek god, honey eyes raking over you like you're his concubine, his sacrifice.

You sigh, taking him all in as he unbuttons his jeans and shrugs them off along with his boxers. His cock springs out like it's fucking hydraulic, slapping against the bare skin of his stomach and leaking precum onto his navel. It looks so damn needy, the tip so red its verging on purple, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle a moan just at thought of it being in you.

He looks down at you, mouth still closed, and it leaves you a little confused. Shouldn't he say something right about now, about how he can't wait to fuck you stupid, can't wait to feel you cumming around him? It's only when he leans over you, lining up at your entrance, and spits your own slick onto your stomach that you realize why. "Oh, fuck, Reiner," you groan out, completely involuntarily. He smirks at the exclamation, rubs a hand over the wet spot, covering you further in his spit and your cum.

"You like this?" he asks, already knowing the answer. "You like being smothered in my spit? Like being marked? Like, ugh, knowing who you belong to?" He slides into you slow as he speaks, still gripping one of your knees to keep himself from falling apart, from just letting himself go and pistoning into you with reckless abandon.

"Yes, fuck, God, yes, I do," you reply, hoping it'll motivate him to keep this going. It's so rare for him to talk to you like this, so possessive and so filthy, it never fails to drive you wild. You claw your hands into the sheets as you take every thick inch of his shaft, ecstatic at the feeling of him bottoming out, tip already brushing against your cervix. "Feels s' good Rei."

"Good, good," he drawls, trying to respond but overcome by the waves of pleasure starting to thrum around him. He leans down, rests his head into the crook of your neck and starts rocking into you slow and steady, suckling at your neck gently. "You feel good too baby. Can't believe this pussy is, mm, all mine. Can't believe you're all mine."

His eyes go wide and he smiles, pure and genuine. "Oh, thank God," he sighs, sitting up and immediately pulling your legs up to his ears for better access. "I figured I should wait for you to beg but I need you so bad honey you have no idea."

He keeps this pace for a while, gives you space to breathe between every determined thrust, holding your head in his hand while he gives you a hickey that will be impossible to cover up. His stomach slides against yours as he pushes into you, causing the spit and slick to crust and dry, a reminder with each movement of the way he's marked you. And it's unbearably hot, practically a fantasy come true, but you need more.

"Reiner," you murmur, waiting for him to retreat from the comfort of your neck to look you in the eye. "Fuck me? Please?"

He absolutely fucks into you after that, setting a punishing pace that has you seeing stars. He uses one hand to hold up one of your legs, the other pushed into the mattress beside your head, taking every bit of leverage he can to fuck you as hard and as deep as possible. The whole bed groans and creaks under the pressure of his thrusts, and you sympathize with moans and cries of your own. You reach a hand out to Reiner, hoping to ground yourself with his touch, but he shakes his head, opting instead to push your knees up and thrust into you even deeper than before.

"Look at you," he huffs out, every word punctuated by another jab of his cock. "All fucked out for me. You really are all mine, aren't you?"

Finally grabbing onto his arm, you whine and bob your head, already knowing what he's going to ask. "Go ahead," you rasp out, trying to keep it together. "Cum in me, Reiner."

You nod, tears prickling at your eyes from the rampant pleasure washing over you. You don't trust yourself to speak right now, you know all that will come out are broken cries and pleas for him to keep going. Instead you watch him with hungry eyes, rapt attention all on him as his thrusts become sloppy and messy, his own golden eyes struggling to stay focused.

"I-" he swallows, trying to keep composed through it all. "I've made you mine, marked you every way I can. Except one."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He presses into you hard and fast, chasing his high with cries of your name, a sound so filled with need it sends you tumbling towards your own release. You feel his white hot seed shoot into you in spurts, every rope of his cum a sign of his possession of you, inside and out. It's ecstasy.

Eventually, his hips still, and he looks to you, mouth open and eyes wide. "Was, uh," he breathes out, trying to collect himself. "Was that what you were thinking of? Did I do okay?"

He smiles, brings your other hands to his lips and catches your knuckles in a chaste kiss. "I think," he pauses, trying to find the right words. "I liked it too."

You laugh despite yourself, because of course it was okay, it was way better than okay. You bring him close to you, both of you soft and pliable after the workout, and he quickly gets comfortable with his head on your chest.

"That was amazing, sweetheart." you say, kissing the top of his head, fingers playing in the loose strands stuck to his forehead. "Thank you so much."

You snort, a little derisive. "You came a lot for someone who only 'thinks' they liked it."

Reiner blushes, buries his face in-between your breasts. "Okay," he says, muffled. "I liked it a lot."

He beams at you, absolutely fucking radiant, like you hung the moon and the stars, then scoots up to kiss you once on the lips, deeply. "I love you, Y/N."

You smile wide, feel it stretching the corners of your cheeks. How dare he cum in you like a dog in heat and then immediately act like the cutest dopiest baby in the world.

"Hey," you mutter, blushing at the way he looks up at you. "I bought you more peanuts."

"I love you too, Reiner."

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x y/n #reiner braun x you #attack on titan

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chelseeebe · 1 year

Text

falling. | part 3. to maneater.

summary: steve harrington was the first boy you’d opened up to. so why can’t you stop fucking it up?

c/w: billy is in this and there’s mentions of sexual assault and non-consensual touching so read with caution!

it’s finally done!!!!! i don’t even think i like this but it’s here!!! tumblr deleted a whole chunk of writing so had to redo some parts n ik they aren’t as good as the original <\3 also falling - harry styles especially the first verse rlly got me going for this one.

read part one here. | read part two here.

there had been absolutely no contact with steve. he couldn’t even look at you.

now being shunned from sitting on the table your two groups had taken over, jessica very kindly tells you, ‘it’s probably better if you don’t come, y’know.. just until steve cools down.’

‘right.. guess i’ll see you later then,’ you slink out of the cafeteria, choosing to retreat to your car instead, away from everyone.

to be honest, you weren’t keen on sitting opposite steve anyway. the way his eyes looked at you, all sad and disappointed.

on the friday, you’re sat in your car, willing the next two hours of school to hurry up when your passenger door swings open and a large body collapses into the seat.

‘what the fuck are you doing?’

‘you looked lonely, thought i’d give you some company,’ billy states, throwing his legs on the dashboard.

you shoo his feet off, ‘i was fine on my own, actually.’

‘darling, i’ve seen you sat here every day this week, your boyfriend still mad at you?’ he smirks over at you.

‘he’s not my boyfriend, never has been, but yeah, no thanks to you,’ you hiss, though you can’t solely blame him.

‘you really were wasted, huh? don’t remember what happened after?’ he lights a cigarette, rolling down the window.

‘well no, but i’ve been told.. steve couldn’t wait to throw it in my face, trust me,’ you state, looking over at the curly haired boy.

‘why do you give a shit what he thinks? never had you down as someone that cared what little pretty boys like harrington think of you,’ he takes a drag.

billy was attractive, not in a steve harrington kinda way, more rugged and much less clean-cut.

you reach over and grab the cigarette from him, taking a long drag before handing it back.

‘i don’t,’ you lie, ‘could not care less.’

‘that’s why you’re hiding in your car is it, sweetheart?’ he chuckles, eyes narrowing at you.

‘just fuck off, billy,’ you roll your eyes, unprepared for his home-truths.

he laughs, ‘n leave you all alone? you sure you want that?'

even though it was billy, you had appreciated not being alone at lunch. your friend's hadn't exactly shunned you, but had decided that during lunch they'd rather preserve the peace with their new-found friendship with steve and his group.

'you can stay, as long as you shut up and don't mention steve again,' you fold your arms over your chest, twisting your body to look at him.

'i'm not making any promises,' he flicks the butt of the cigarrette out of the window, turning back to face you.

'there's a party tomorrow, i'll pick you up at eight,' he winks.

in all honesty a party was a welcome distraction to everything at the moment, though billy would not be your usual choice of friend but at this point you weren't left with much choice.

then there's a twinge of guilt in your stomach, thinking of steve and how a party and billy had actually been the sole reason steve now wasn’t speaking to you.

he was the first guy you’d let get that close since moving to hawkins a few years back. an inexplicable feeling bubbles in your stomach as you think back to your date. how you had felt so comfortable with him, telling him things not even your friends had gotten out of you.

and suddenly that awful impulsive urge rises from your stomach. the one that only showed itself when things were becoming too serious with someone.

so fuck it.

you spent the whole of the lunch break with billy, in your car. you hadn't ever pictured your friday to go this way, but you were just happy that someone was actually speaking to you.

you'd neglected to notice steve, who had finished basketball practice, standing just a few metres from your car, glaring at the pair of you sat talking in your car. a frown planted firmly on his face, utter disbelief at how you could even be sat with him after that damned party.

tommy notices steve staring, searching for the cause of his scowl, landing on your car. he swings his arm over his friends shoulder in sympathy.

'bro.. c'mon, let's just go,' he tugs steve away and back into the school.

billy is late, obviously.

he wasn’t like steve, ready and waiting for you before you’d even finished getting ready.

you turn your wrist to look at your watch.

8:11pm

you were about to head back inside when you hear the loud car engine pull onto your street, wheels screeching to a halt.

billy grins at you from the window, you roll your eyes and get into the car.

‘you’re late, lucky i was nice enough to wait,’ you pull your skirt down, as it had ridden up past your thighs. not unnoticed by billy.

‘sorry darlin’, looking good though,’ he eyes up your thighs.

‘just drive, i need a fucking drink,’ you stare, flipping him the middle finger.

he chuckles, speeding off down the street.

you’d told yourself that there was absolutely no way you were getting as wasted as last time. but here you were, head spinning as you stumble up to the stairs and into the bathroom.

billy follows closely behind, pushing his way into the bathroom, ‘not tapping out, are ya doll face?’

‘no, i’m fine.. just need a minute,’ you lean your hands on the counter, looking at your blurry reflection in the mirror.

billy presses himself against your back, hands finding your waist as you watch him grin in the mirror.

you spin your body round to face him, placing a hand on his chest to push him back, ‘i’m not fucking you billy,’ shaking your head.

‘oh c’mon, i’ve been waiting all night for this darlin’,’ his fingers begin to slide up your thigh, disappearing under your skirt.

‘no billy, i’m not doing that,’ you place your hand on his wrist, trying to move his hand.

his expression hardens as he leans his face closer to yours, his fingers now gripping your jaw, ‘you’re joking.. everyone knows what a little slut you are, what’s the problem? don’t tell me it’s harrington.’

his fingers tear a hole in your tights, latching onto the hem of your underwear and you freeze.

your eyes squeeze shut, ‘i just don’t want to have sex with you.. get off of me,’ your voice shakes.

he runs his thumb over your bottom lip before letting go, backing away from the counter, ‘whatever, you’re a little cock-tease,’ he walks out of the bathroom, slamming the door so hard the walls shake.

you sigh, wiping away the tears that had slipped out and rolled down your cheek.

you’d yet again made a gigantic mess of everything.

now left stranded at some random party, god knows where.

so, you do the sensible thing and walk down the stairs and out of the house, stumbling down the street as you pass the party goers.

you walk and walk, until you end up on the familiar street.

you don’t really know what you’re doing until you’re at the door, boots in hand as your knuckles wrap against the wood.

there were now holes in your tights, black mascara smudged down your cheeks and the red lipstick you’d chosen now anywhere but your lips.

you glance at the time on your watch

3:32am.

it had taken you an hour to even get here.

the door swings open and a shirtless steve stands in the doorway, hair sticking up every which way.

‘y/n? why are y- what happened?’ his tone becoming concerned as he notices your disheveled appearance and the leather boots in your hand.

you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, ‘i didn’t know where else to go..’ the lump rises as a cry escapes your mouth.

his arms are around your body, pulling you into his chest, before you can say another word.

you cry as he pulls you into the house, running his hand down your back. you can only cling onto him, only crying harder because you didn’t deserve this kindness from him.

‘hey.. what happened?’ he questions, pulling away to make you look up at him.

‘i was.. at a party and- and billy..’ you’re interrupted with a sob, unable to finish the sentence.

his eyes go from soft to filled with anger at the mention of his name.

‘what? what did he do?’ he spits, with the state of you it couldn’t have been good.

‘he just- he tried to touch me and.. and i said no and-,’ you’re interrupted by a sob, unable to even tell steve.

you can feel his body stiffen, ‘he didn’t… did he?’

shaking your head, you swallow attempting to conceal your cries, ‘no.. he just.. touched me.. it’s my fault, i shouldn’t have even gone..’

‘no, no it’s not at all.. c’mon let’s get you cleaned up,’ he pulls his body from yours, now taking your hand and walking you up his stairs.

the second time he’d come to your drunken rescue. you felt awful for relying on him so much.

but truthfully, steve would rather know that you’re safe with him than out there. no matter what had happened between you.

he gently wipes the remains of your makeup off with his moms face wipes, offering you the spare toothbrush and even turning around as you change into yet another one of his t-shirts, this time foregoing the sweatpants.

‘got my own collection going on,’ you laugh weakly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

he exhales, ‘s’pose you do.. they look better on you anyway,’ he stands in the doorway, ready to go to the guest bedroom.

‘can you.. stay in here.. only if you want to,’ you whisper, pulling back the duvet for him.

he walks over to the bed, ‘of course i want to.. whether i should is another story,’ he climbs into the bed, laying back.

‘you should,’ you lean your head back onto the pillow, staring at the cream coloured ceiling.

steve flicks the lamp off, turning on his side to go to sleep.

you’re sure he’s asleep before you let out the first silent cry, hand held over your mouth.

your shoulders shake as you sniffle, slightly louder than intended.

and then you feel steve’s arm snake around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

‘i’m sorry.. i thought you were asleep..’ you mumble.

‘no.. can’t sleep,’ he grumbles in response, still holding onto your waist.

you turn your body to face his, looking up at his shadowy face, admiring the way the moon cascaded over his features. you can just about make out his eyes staring back into yours.

‘me too..’

the eye contact is heavy, and you’re half tempted to reach up and kiss him.

steve clearly has the same thought, his lips colliding with yours with his free hand now cupping your face.

but this kiss is different, there’s no lust, no desire behind it. not like before. this kiss was soft, full of warmth and emotion.

he pulls back, searching for your eyes in the darkness, ‘c’mon you need to sleep.’

you nod slightly, resting your head on his chest and exhaling deeply.

his fingers trace patterns into your shoulder, chin resting on the top of your head.

eventually your breathing becomes heavy on his chest as you drift off to sleep.

his fingers slide through your hair with his other arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, holding you close to his body.

he whispers into your hair, ‘you’re killing me here..’

eventually falling asleep, nuzzled into your hair.

it's noon before you wake up, steve's arm around your waist as he snores lightly.

he looked so peaceful when he was asleep, the usual furrow of his brow replaced with an undisturbed, stillness to his face.

you smile at the image, not wanting to wake him but desperately needing the bathroom.

you manoeuvre your body out of his grasp and tiptoe to the bathroom.

when you come back to the room steve is awake, sat up against his headboard.

‘i thought.. i thought you’d snuck off again,’ he exhales, running his hand through his hair.

you shake your head, ‘not this time,’ sitting at the end of the bed.

‘what happened last night?’ he asks, not wanting to press too much.

you sigh, looking down at your hands, ‘he.. he touched me.. i said no but he.. just-,’ you stop yourself.

steve reaches over, placing his hand over yours for reassurance.

‘he grabbed me.. called me a slut and a tease- i don’t wanna talk about it..’

‘you should go to the police, obviously if you want to.. but he shouldn’t get away with that,’ he squeezes you hand, his tone now full of disgust.

‘no, i’m not.. it’s fine- i’m fine,’ you look up at him, eyes glossy with tears.

‘you do-,’ he sighs, exasperated, ‘okay, it’s your choice.. but i’m just telling you now that i am going to kill him.’

you chuckle through the tears, ‘you couldn’t kill a fly.’

‘hey! i could and i have,’ he feigns offence.

you groan, using steve’s blanket to wipe away your tears.

‘are you okay?’ he questions quietly.

you nod, ‘i’m fine.. are you okay?’

‘why would i not be?’

‘because.. of me,’ you shrug, ‘what i did..’

he squeezes your hand, ‘it doesn’t matter.. you were right, you aren’t my girlfriend.. i can’t expect you to act like it,’ he sighs; slightly frowning.

his eyes are sad, gazing down at you.

‘it was still shitty.. i’m really sorry steve.. i’m trying to be a different person, better, but it’s hard..’

he exhales, ‘look.. we don’t need to speak about this now..’

you nod, appreciating his kindness. even if you were totally undeserving.

‘c’mon, i’ll take you home,’ he runs his thumb over your hand before standing from the bed.

you’re stood at his door when he picks up the skirt you’d worn last night. it had been a favourite but now you couldn’t even stand to look at it.

‘burn it,’ you say, disgusted at the sight of the skirt.

it goes unnoticed when steve grits his teeth, seething at how billy’s actions had made you feel so little. a shell of the you he knew.

you hesitate going into the cafeteria. there was still an air of uncertainty around you and steve despite you turning up on his doorstep sunday morning.

you notice the group of students now stood at the window, jeering and gasping at some commotion outside.

before you can decide whether to join them, jessica sprints up to you, 'you need to come, now,' pulling your arm towards the door to the forecourt.

'what? what's going on?' you query, stumbling as she drags you along.

'it's steve..,' she pants, breathless as she'd had to sprint to find you.

your eyes immediately land on the group of high-schoolers, crowded around the bustle you'd noticed from the window.

pushing through the crowd you spot steve squared up to billy, his hand shoving his backwards, billy tumbling back.

'fucking creep,' steve spits, stepping up once again.

'what's the problem? did i touch your little girlfriend? that little slut wanted it,' billy bites back, returning the shove to steve only a little harder.

you bite the inside of your cheek, guilty that you were the reason for the fight. his words sting, memories of the spiteful words he had spat at you in the bathroom flooding back.

steve lunges for the boy, landing a particularly hard punch to his cheek sending billy backwards towards the crowd.

billy clutches his cheek, a smile on his lips at the utter disbelief of steve's actions.

the denim clad boy tackles steve to the ground, pulling his arm back to sock him in the face, repeatedly, each hit harder than the last.

you gasp, elbowing the boys in front of you out of the way and stepping up towards billy, you grab onto his jacket in an attempt to stop him.

'fucking stop it!' you screech, pulling his arm back and away from steve.

billy pushes you backwards, falling to the floor as the crowd let out a collective 'ooh'.

fortunately for steve, ms. kelly gets into the middle of the circle as one of the gym teachers restrains billy.

you rush over to steve, his face now bruised and bloody. you cradle his head in your arms, trying to clean off some of the blood to assess how badly he was hurt.

he looks up at you, eyes squinting at the bright light, 'i'm sorry.. he deserved it though.'

you shake your head, though you can't hide the smile on your face, ‘we could've slashed his tyres or something, now look at you.'

eventually, you alongside one of his teammates take him inside, his arm resting on your shoulder.

you press the ice pack to his face, shuffling in the uncomfortable office chairs while you wait for the principle to finish speaking to billy.

'i think you're a fucking idiot for doing that.. but i wanted to thank you.. for defending me n' that..'

he turns to face you, 'oh that? wasn't for you.. i just really really wanted to get beat up,' he winces at his split lip as he smiles.

'it was kinda hot.. y'know the ten seconds before he beat the shit out of you,' you giggle. it was true, angry steve was hot, just not when he was angry at you.

your head jolts to the open door, as billy saunters out. steve had got a pretty good hit in, with billy's cheek now adorned with a new blue bruise.

he glares at the two of you, his lip snarling as if to say something but he restrains himself.

‘mr. harrington,’ mr. davis calls, gesturing towards his office.

you both stand at the same time, ‘you can stay here miss. (y/l/n),’ the principle nods.

‘no, i’m coming,’ you walk into the office and take a seat before steve.

mr. davis is shocked at your gumption, beginning his spiel about fighting and how it’s unacceptable in the school environment.

‘so unfortunately, i’ve got no choice but to suspend you-,’

‘no,’ you cut him off, ‘that’s not fair, it’s my fault he was even fighting, so you can either suspend both of us or neither of us,’ you cross your arms, staring at your principal.

‘well.. now we can’t do that.. school policy states that we need to punish anyone fighting,’ david states, leaning forward on his desk.

‘so suspend me too.’

steve gawps at you, mouth open at your brave actions, utterly speechless.

‘i don’t think that would be wise miss (y/l/n), it’s a one week suspension,’ he attempts to persuade you to concede.

you shrug, ‘i don’t care.’

‘okay.. well.. then you’re both suspended, i’ll be in contact with both of your parents.. i expect you back, not fighting, next monday,’ your principal sighs.

you stand up and exit the room, stone-faced as you barrel out of the school.

steve jogs to catch up with you, ‘wait.. wait, why the fuck did you do that?’ his fingers curl around your wrist.

‘because it’s my fault you were even fighting.. only fair that i take some of the blame,’ you turn to him only inches away from his swollen face.

a laugh erupts from his throat at the sheer absurdity of it all. it’s contagious as you burst out laughing with him.

‘we look crazy..’ you mutter, noticing the stares from nosy students out of the classroom windows.

‘you are crazy,’ he says, fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

‘i’m not the one throwing punches at someone twice my size,’ you state, grinning at him.

he scoffs, ‘twice? i don’t think so.’

you shake your head, ‘let’s get out of this shit hole, you’ve just bagged me a week off.. i’m not wasting that.’

you walk over to your car, looking back at steve stood gawping at you.

‘i.. i drove so i’ll uh- see ya,’ he begins to walk to his car, fumbling in his pockets for his keys.

‘are you sure you’re alright to drive? your eye’s pretty fucked..’ you were just desperate to not let him walk away once again.

‘yeah.. this is not my first time being beaten up, believe it or not,’ he half jokes, wobbling over to his car.

‘well.. uh, do you wanna do something later? i think i owe you for defending my honour,’ you call after him.

he turns to look at you, ‘okay, dinner is definitely on you though.’

‘i’ll even come and pick you up.. six, so you better be ready,’ you open the car door, sliding into the seat.

you both drive home grinning at your nondate-date.

you’d never been so nervous, stomach doing flips at the thought of seeing him.

you pull up on his drive, giving your outfit a once over before sounding the horn. you’d opted for more casual wear, a difference to the usual short skirts and revealing tops steve normally saw you in.

he appears at the door before limping over to your car. he groans as he attempts to sit in the car, his bruises now visible on his face.

‘are you sure you’re okay to go out?’ you question, wincing at his cut hands.

‘yeah.. i’m fine.. just a bit sore,’ he mumbles.

‘mm, you look it, c‘mon.. we can just order pizza and watch a movie, it’s okay,’ you hop out and walk around the passenger side, helping him out of your car.

he wraps his arm around your waist, supporting himself with your body, ‘you could’ve said this before i dragged myself all the way over here,’ he jokes.

‘steve, i’ll fucking drop you.’

you help him into the house, placing him down on the sofa before looking around at the large house.

you’d never really seen it through sober eyes, suddenly noticing the childhood photos dotted around.

‘are your parents not home?’ you question, the quiet echoed around the house.

‘nah.. they never are,’ he shrugs, there’s a certain sadness to his voice as he settles into the cushions.

‘oh.. at least they don’t know that you’re suspended i guess..’ you try to spin it positively but you can tell just how hurt he is.

‘yeah.. i guess..’

you sit down on the couch next to him, grabbing the phone from the table and passing it to him.

‘c’mon.. it’s my treat so get whatever you want,’ you cross your legs up onto the couch, watching him on the phone. completely enamoured with his every little move.

there’s some action film on the tv, not your first choice obviously.

your knees are tucked into your chest as steve leans against you, head on your shoulder. you honestly weren’t even sure he was still awake.

‘i’m really sorry, steve,’ it comes out in barely a whisper.

you hear him sigh, ‘i know.. it’s okay,’ he lifts his head off of your shoulder, now looking at you.

‘no, steve.. it’s not okay.. i hurt you and that’s not okay..’ you can’t bare to look at him, into his sad, doe eyes, instead playing with the hem on your jeans.

‘it is.. im telling you that it is.. you aren’t my girlfriend and..’ he exhales, ‘it’s okay that you don’t want to be.. i shouldn’t have just expected it from you..’

you’re still picking at the loose thread on your jeans, ‘but i do.. i do want that.. i just- there’s something wrong with me and i just can’t help it, i fuck everything up.. i hurt people..’ you shake your head, quickly wiping away the tear that had slipped out.

being so vulnerable with him made you sick to your stomach. the first person in a long time to tap into this part of you, the side you had buried deep down.

he swallows before putting his hand on your knee, ‘you haven’t.. fucked anything up, i’m still here aren’t i?

you’re brave enough to slowly look up at him through sodden eyelashes, blinking at his words.

‘you know.. i’ve been begging to hear you say that for so long..’ he breathes, inching closer to your face.

‘i don’t wanna hurt you..’ you murmur, his hand cupping your cheek as he wipes your damp cheek.

he leans forward, placing his lips on your yours. the kiss is similar to the one you’d shared in his bed on sunday morning, soft with no ulterior motives. affectionate and gentle, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours as his thumb still tracing your cheek, ‘then don’t.’

you nod, placing your hand on top of his before kissing his lips again. carefully placing your other hand on his bruised cheek, sure to be gentle with him.

‘does this mean you’re my girlfriend?’ he mumbles into the kiss.

you laugh against his lips, ‘if you want me to be..’

he pulls back to look at you, ‘i want nothing more,’ the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.

‘then i’m yours.’

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader

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