#this is the beginning of part four so it's near the end...
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In which Izuku is left quirkless, so they find a new reason
Katsuki stayed crouched above Izuku, pinning one arm with his foot and clasping the other, pressed to the floor of the training mat. Almost in an exact replica of their fight at ground beta all those months ago, minus one arm and a slight change in hand placement. They both stay like that, breathing heavily, staring into eachothers eyes with the mutual feeling of impending doom sat heavily between them.
Because Izuku was getting weaker.
Katsuki had noticed, though he tried his best to ignore it. They both did, afraid to speak it into reality. Afraid for their dynamic to change. But as Katsuki had an easier and easier time pinning Izuku, as the embers slowly died out, they both found it hard to ignore that this…whatever it was they had, was coming to an end. Katsuki felt frantic, empty. Watching as something dear died before him, completely out of his reach.
Izuku had resolved to accept his fate, his eventuality. He didn’t mind being quirkless again. The loss held between them came from a different place, and they both knew it.
“…Kacchan?” Sad. So sad.
Katsuki released his hold and stood up, before offering Izuku his hand to help the boy up, too. They stood in silence, Izuku still breathing heavily and looking embarrassed about it, unable to find the words to express what they both clearly wanted to say to eachother.
“I’ll make katsudon tonight.” A common condolence when Izuku suffered yet another decline in power. It seemed now that one for all was gone for good, the embers inside izuku were dying at an increased rate than what All Might had gone through. The embers seemed to die at a steady rate regardless if Izuku used OFA or not. The night they’d realized, they fought eachother deep into the night, openly crying at eachother and throwing punches. A silent agreement they’d do this as often as they could, until they couldn’t anymore.
This.. felt like a goodbye. Katsuki stared into Izuku’s eyes and felt like he was at a funeral.
“…okay. Thank you, Kacchan.”
With one last look into Izuku’s eyes, Katsuki turned and walked out, Izuku staying behind to put distance between them. To give eachother space. Katsuki managed to stifle the sob caught in his throat till he made it onto the elevator.
.
.
.
Katsuki poked the pork frying in the pan on autopilot. In his head, he thumbed through the same stack of thoughts sitting heavily in his mind like clockwork. He felt lost, weak, trapped. Condemned to a fate he had no control over. They wouldn’t be able to keep fighting, now. Izuku had stopped being able to keep up with catch-a-kacchan months ago now. They had been staying ground-level for a while now but they both knew even that was too much for him now. The embers were barely even there anymore.
Katsuki hadn’t seen Izuku since he’d left him at the gym. They hadn’t texted eachother, either. What would they even say? There weren’t words. Katsuki didn’t have the words.
At this, Izuku makes his first appearance in hours, to slink into the kitchen and stand beside Katsuki. He’s silent for a moment.
“…Can i help?”
Katsuki is relieved those were the words that came out of Izuku’s mouth, instead of..well.
He lets out a little breath of relief.
“Sure. Grab the egg, mirin and soy sauce for me.” Mix it together, equal parts, four eggs, and chop some of those green onions while you’re at it.”
“Got it.” Izuku flits around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and settling again beside Katsuki, beginning his task.
They don’t know how to bring it up, but the silence is somehow comfortable, each settling in to their tasks, accomplishing the same goal of katsudon together. Katsuki can’t bring it up, but he’s thankful to have a reason to be near Izuku like this. Even if it is just making a meal together. They don’t say much else, afraid to break whatever fragile comfort they’d created.
They ate in silence. And then stared into space together, in silence. And then Katsuki said he’d wash their dishes, and then Izuku left, in silence; and Katsuki wished he’d asked him for help instead.
.
.
.
10:24pm.
Katsuki stared into the dark, in silence. Thought about texting Izuku. Couldn’t find the words.
.
.
.
It’s Saturday. Katsuki came down to make breakfast. Hoped to see Izuku, but he didn’t show. Thought about taking the food to him, put it in the fridge instead.
.
.
.
4:24pm. He’d stayed in the common room the whole day, but Izuku never showed, and Katsuki couldn’t find the words to give him a reason to seek the boy out. What could he even say? “You haven’t eaten all day.” ? As if. How stupid for Katsuki to care about that when…when he couldn’t even..
Fuck it. A reasons a reason, Katsuki supposes.
Katsuki sped through the curry prep, in a hurry to get it to Izuku’s door and tell him he hasn’t eaten all day. With two steaming bowls held on a dish platter, because he didn’t want Izuku’s to get cold while he ate alone, he marched his way up to Izuku’s room and knocked firm, once, twice, and waited.
Izuku opened the door quickly, and Katsuki saw he was in a similar shape to himself, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t slept either.
“You haven’t eaten.” An observation, a request, a plea.
Izuku looked at the bowls, took one. Stood in the doorway, awkward.
At the same time Katsuki makes to turn away, Izuku speaks up. “Do you want to come in? You just, you have two bowls. You don’t have to…but. Um. I’d like you to.”
His response was immediate. “Yeah.” A breath, a small relief. A break from the pain.
They both settle down on Izuku’s bed to eat, backs against the wall. Close, even if neither one of them acknowledged it. They didn’t speak. Until,
“Um. So, theres a show I started a couple days ago. Do..you wanna watch it with me?” Izuku digs around for the remote. Kacchan grunts for him to go ahead, so Izuku turns it on from the beginning and they settle back in to eating, watching together.
.
.
.
9:52pm.
They’re on episode five now, bowl’s of curry empty and forgotten on the floor beside the bed. They’ve pulled Izuku’s blanket up over their legs and are zoned into the show, a merciful relief. A reason. Katsuki hides his yawns as subtly as he can, and Izuku pretends not to notice.
They both pretend not to notice when Katsuki subtly shifts further into the bed, afraid to break the spell. They’re both tired enough to not think about it.
.
.
.
8:46am.
Katsuki blinks his eyes open and finds the clock on the wall that doesn’t belong to him, and then feels legs that also don’t belong to him entangled with his own. He can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it. Izuku is sleeping peacefully, soft snores and breaths coming out in little puffs, one hand resting peacefully on his chest and the other holding Kacchans forearm, which was sat snuggly against the curve of Izukus side, being held in place in the air. Katsuki didn’t dare move. The TV sat dark and paused on the wall, long forgotten. He’d have to check with Izuku to see when they both fell asleep so they knew how far back to go, he thought idly. A problem for later, though.
He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
.
.
.
When he woke back up Izuku was silencing his phone, his ringtone for Uraraka being cut short and detangling his legs from Katsuki’s in order to stand up from the bed.
“You..we fell asleep last night.”
“Yeah.” A yawn.
“The show’s good. Whats the last part you remember? We’re probably gonna have to find where we left off.”
“Oh uh, i think..the new guy, the blonde one had just fought with that guy in the boat restaurant. I think he was gonna leave.”
“Huh? The last thing I remember is whats her name and whats his face playing some drinking game.”
A chuckle. “I’ll go back and find our spot tonig-when we-um. Anyway. I’m..I’m glad you liked it, Kacchan.”
“I’ll come back tonight. And we can watch more.” Small reliefs. Small reliefs, small reliefs.
A smile, small, shared. “I’d like that.”
Silence.
“So. Um. It’s..it’s Sunday.”
Sundays they typically spent the whole day in the gym, sparring, being in each others company. Katsuki didn’t get much physically from their sparring sessions these days, they both knew it. They seemed to be at an understanding though, of what they got from their Sundays together.
Suddenly, Katsuki had a thought. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, eager to run from the conversation he so badly feared having.
“Lets go play some fucking baseball, Zuku.”
Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks funny like that, Katsuki thinks. It makes his stomach do a weird little flip that he usually only felt in the heat of the moment during their fights and sparring sessions, back when Izuku was at full strength. The feeling puts a surprised little crease between his own brows.
“…hah..what?” Izuku’s smiling, confused.
Katsuki keeps going, fueled by the quick return of the feeling he hasn’t felt in months, replacing the impending doom.
“C’mon, nerd, let’s go to the batting cages back home and play some fucking baseball. Maybe we can stop at your moms and say hi or something while we’re out.”
Silence. But..different this time. Better. Expectant.
Izuku huffs out a little laugh, relief of some sort.
“Yeah, Kacchan, that sounds good.”
It does sound good, Katsuki thinks.
.
.
.
“Hold your fucking arms higher, nerd!”
“Shuddup! I know how to hit a ball, Kacchan!”
“Getting cocky, huh, Zuku? Since when do you talk back to me you little shit?” Katsuki hasn’t felt this much like himself in months.
“You make it easy being such a know-it-all, Kacchan.”
“I’m a know-it-all, because i know it all, you little asshole. Don’t you patronize me.”
They’re both laughing, and Izuku is trying his best to hit the baseballs flying towards him in between snorts of laughter and playful banter. It’s so easy like this. Katsuki had imagined the day Izuku’s ember’s went out a million times, he imagined it like death, but this didn’t feel like death at all. This felt like..the birth of something new.
Then, suddenly,
“Lemme show you how it’s done, nerd.”
Izuku backs up and turns to hand Katsuki the bat but Izuku misinterpreted what he meant, because Katsuki turns him back around and comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders.
“Pick your arm up dummy, higher, angle it like this, you want to meet the ball at the same angle its coming at you.” Katsuki takes Izukus arm and imitates hitting the ball the way he wants him to, and then pushes Izuku forward again. Izuku is weirdly quiet, now.
“Try it like that. And don’t be pissed when it’s better than your way.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Kacchan.”
*CRACK*
“…Fine. Don’t be rude about it, though. You’re still a know-it-all.”
Katsuki can’t contain his shit eating grin, and that feeling in his gut is back with a vengeance.
“There’s a reason for that, Zuku.”
.
.
.
Inko was delighted at the unexpected visit, flitting around to whip something up for the two and offering apologies for not having more ready for them both. In the end, they’d eaten curry for the second day in a row, but neither of them commented on it, happy to be in Inko’s company, happy to see Izuku happy. In the end they’d thanked Inko and ushered themselves off into Izuku’s bedroom for a while before they went back to UA.
Izuku was pulling All Might merch and knick knacks out of every corner of the room, handing them to Katsuki along with stories and “do you remembers” and Katsuki felt overwhelmed. The feeling in his stomach only grew the longer the day went on and he found it harder and harder to keep the stupid, easy grin off his face. He felt so happy it almost felt wrong.
“Ah! kacchan! Do you remember when we drew these!”
They were two sheets of paper, one, in big letters, labeled “KACCHAN”, punctuated by tiny explosions in between each letter, and the other, “IZUKU” written neatly, simply across the top of the page. Underneath each name was a drawing to match, the both of them drawn in crayon as heroes, in gear that hadn’t quite matched up with what they’d grown accustomed to.
Katsuki took the papers from Izuku and stared, and stared, and stared, and only snapped out of it when a single tear drop hit the page.
And then it happened again. He spoke without meaning to.
“I don’t want to go back to not being around you, Izuku. I-i don’t even care that we can’t spar anymore. I don’t care about that. I just-i just want to keep hanging out with you. I don’t care what what we do. I just-“ he was shaking, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d feared this conversation, so.. why did this feel like relief, too?
Katsuki just lets himself cry, tiny sniffs and sobs crawling their way into their atmosphere.
He looked up through wet lashes just in time to see Izuku launching himself into his arms, throwing him back into the bed burying his face into Katsuki’s neck, sobbing with all the intensity Katsuki felt in his soul.
“I want-i want to be with you too, Kachhan, for-forever. I just want-to-to be around you.”
Katsuki wraps his arms around Izuku and lets the relief wash over him. Katsuki doesn’t know what compelled him to say it.
“I love you.”
Silence.
Izuku pulls back just enough to look into Katsuki’s eyes. His heart is hammering in his chest, stunned speechless, and as Izuku searches Katsuki’s face he feels the boys breathing become panicked, coming out in short puffs verging on hyperventilation. Katsuki barely opens his mouth to take it back, to unscare Izuku when Izuku seemingly realizes this and smashes their lips together in an effort to stop him.
It’s sudden, scared, mutual. Blissful.
It takes Katsuki all of two seconds to come back online and fit his hand into Izuku’s hair in an effort to keep him there, and returns the kiss in full. Izuku grunts out a little sound that seems pained but somehow matches that feeling in his own gut, swirling and verging on the side of too much too much too much
They break the kiss at the same time, leaping away from eachother and doubling over themselves, anxiously giggling against their will and breathing heavily. Izuku leaps to his feet and starts pacing, muttering all the while, energy buzzing within him with the same intensity as one-for-all and Katsku feels it seep into everything, feels his limbs buzz, heart racing, mind running a mile a minute and somehow not at all.
“Ahhaah, AHHH, Kacch-i love you, FUCK I love you, holy-sh-shit, holy shit, oh my god. kachhhANNNN OH MY GOD.”
Izuku’s yelling and Katsuki finally yanks himself out of his shock to speak up just in time for Izuku to run out of the room screaming.
“Hey-what the FUCK, IZUK-get back here!” And then he’s off the bed too and running out the door behind him, leaving a stunned and less confused than you’d think Inko sat on the couch.
.
.
.
Katsuki catches up to him already at the bus station, pacing circles around the bench, laughing and crying hysterically. He catches a glimpse of Katsuki right as he stalks up to him and grabs Izuku’s arm.
“Caught you.” He grins triumphantly, and so, so happy, and doesn’t even give Izuku the chance to respond before he captures the boys lips again. Relief.
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I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:
AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?
I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.
For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.
None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.
The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.
He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.
I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."
I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.
Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?
What are these acronyms?
Original post
The update
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HEART TO HEART : GOJO SATORU
what is heart to heart? a show in which we bring two people who have history together to ask them a couple of interesting, heartbreaking questions.
today's episode: 27 year old Gojo Satoru broke up with his girlfriend 4 years ago, yet he cannot move on. does she feel the same? and does a person really not move on even after four years?
note: i started this…without a second thought. i dont know where its going or if its gonna do well. but i enjoyed it very much
a cold room, a white set, two chairs and a table—satoru gojo knew that the point of this very simple and minimalistic set was to make him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, but a tiny vase would’ve been appreciated.
“why did you two break up?”
the ivory haired man leans back in his chair with a dry chuckle, fingers drumming along the surface of the wooden table.
“I was insecure,” he admits rather bitterly. “I just had a lot of things to work on, and letting go of her seemed like the right thing to do.”
“do you miss her?”
“oh, absolutely,” there’s a smile on his face when he says that, and sits up straight with his hands clasped together (an indicator that he was most likely anxious to be asked such vulnerable question). he goes on to squeeze his hands a bit and his lips are sealed shut for a bit before opening them again. “I thought to myself that I wouldn’t find love for a while after her—but it’s been four years, and I cannot get myself to move on.”
“has she moved on?”
“maybe? I’m not sure,” he lets out a nervous laugh and looks away from the camera before holding his head in his hands, there was a mental battle going on inside his head—before he finally decides to speak again. “I actually stalked her instagram account last week through a mutual friend and… I didn’t see a man on any of the pictures. she could just be super private.”
“was she private about being with you?”
“she would post pictures here and there, we didn’t like to keep our relationship a secret.”
gojo is handed a blindfold and he neatly wraps it around his eyes and waits, heart thumping loudly in his chest.
when you were asked by a friend if you would do this interview, a part of you was a bit hesitant just because you weren’t sure if you wanted to air out your love life like this and have to deal with the consequences of a potential future lover being upset about it—but when you were told that it was gojo satoru, your ex-boyfriend whom you dated for 3 years and were planning on building a future with—that is until it abruptly ended with no warnings whatsoever. perhaps you ignored the tornado warnings? were there even any to begin with? you will never know because you blocked him everywhere on social media. from instagram to his phone number. you couldn’t deal with the fact that he existed around you, near you yet you couldn’t have him.
four long years of not having seen him took a toll on your heart, as it sure gets excited the moment you spot white strands on top of a head that is laid out on the table. his sense of style is still so casual and laid back, but not in a cocky way. satoru has always been about feeling comfortable in your clothes but you notice his tense shoulders and his foot tapping and can immediately tell that he is anxious.
you silently pull the chair back facing him and he lifts his head off of the table. your hands rest on top of the surface and the producer finally asks gojo to take off the blindfold.
when he does and you two lock eyes, you both start smiling big but you can’t help the little tremble to your lips before you look away from the camera to wipe a few emotional tears.
“sorry,” you whisper but your mic was able to pick it up. almost on instinct, satoru reaches towards you and squeezes your arm reassuringly.
“when was the last time you spoke to one another?”
“four years ago.” you are the one to answer the questions now and you keep avoiding satoru’s big blue eyes.
“was it hard having to walk away from a long term relationship?”
“It’s always hard when you thought there was a connection,” your emphasis on the word “thought” makes gojo look down at his lap almost in shame. he had no time to explain himself or what he did, yet he couldn’t help but feel that this interview was going to be like a second chance to explain himself and perhaps give a proper apology.
“you had no closure?”
“nope.” you both answer at the same time and it feels as though feelings of resentment are starting to resurface as your demeanor grows cold around him and you pull your hands away from the table.
“why do you think you broke up?”
“you said you couldn’t really see us together anymore,” you were now speaking to satoru directly and he gladly took the heat of your words. “you said…that us being together was just a waste of time and that one of us has to walk away,” you were clearly hurt by his words, even four years later. the breakup took a toll on you both physically and emotionally. you were incapable of going on dates for a painfully long period of time that your friends had to drag you outside to meet some potential new partners—but none of them felt like satoru. you resented him for crawling into your heart and finding a safe space there, for settling down and building a warm house inside only to tear it down and leave as quickly as he came.
“I wasn’t… sure what I wanted to do at the time, I was confused about my future,” satoru admits for the first time ever. “I thought it was so unfair to drag you down that hole with me when it was so clear to you that you had a plan in mind—a secure one so I just-“
“left.” you finish the sentence for him and he lets out a pained laugh.
“yeah, I left. and when I realized that you had blocked me, I knew that there was no going back and that I actually did it. yknow, like, it wasn’t this bad dream where I would wake up and you were still beside me—you were actually gone, I made you leave.”
there was a long silence after this and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not after that confession.
“did you miss me?” gojo takes the initiative to ask this question instead of the producer but they don’t complain, watching carefully as you look back at your ex partner.
“I did,” you say again in a whisper, almost scared that you coming to terms with this horrible realization was going to hurt you further.
“do you think that…we could’ve worked out had I been honest at the time?”
“satoru, I would’ve never left you as easily as you did,” you knew that it wasn’t easy for him, but you want him to know that your love for him was bigger than he ever thought.
“would you like to try again?”
you two stare at each other for a bit and you sneak your hand towards his huge palm, resting your index finger there and tracing soft circles.
“yeah… I want to. do you?” you look up at him through your eyelashes and gojo’s heart feels as though it is about to burst.
“I would love to.”
2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
—💭 if you like this, leave me a tip!
#moon's works#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo
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Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered
I'm so excited to finally share this bind of one of my all time favorite fics! Thanks to lettered's generous binding policy, I decided to go all out.
This bind has a foiled cover and spine, hand sewn silk endbands, and thirteen custom chapter headers. It was also my first time rounding and backing.
You can find more pictures and information about my process under the cut.
For the cover and spine, I recreated the design of Beasts of the Field (1902) by William J. Long.
I wanted something that captured both the whimsy and maturity of the story, and this cover fit my vision perfectly. It also gave me the opportunity to recreate another antique cover from the public domain.
Unfortunately, the design was a bit complicated for my Cameo 4, so I was unable to fill the lines in. You can also tell that the foil did not adhere properly near the bottom, so the flowers are lighter than I would like them to be.
Because of the trouble I was having with my Cameo, I decided to foil the spine by hand. I deeply regretted this decision two hours later, and it took me four hours to finish foiling. My wrist still hurts!
Sewing the headbands was my absolute favorite part. I was encouraged to try them by a lovely binder on Instagram, and I ended up completely addicted. I splurged on some fancy silk thread so I could give this fic the royal treatment it deserves! I think they look like beautiful little caterpillars.
As for the rounding and backing... I'm not going to talk about it. Nightmare. Lots of nervous sweating. Emotional agony. Next topic!
I worked on the typeset back at the beginning of January when I had some time off, and it took me a solid week of obsessive editing to complete. My sister suggested that I use Harry and Draco's patronuses for the chapter art, but there unfortunately aren't many public domain illustrations of deer and foxes playing together.
It was at that point that I also decided that I wanted the animals to match the respective ages of Harry and Draco and the tone of each chapter. For the 13 chapters I ended up editing 25 different illustrations together. The bulk of these are taken from vintage versions of Bambi and Reynard the Fox. It's possible that a few stock images from 1980s nature books snuck in there, but I did my best to keep them all pre 1925.
I'm not a skilled editor, and some of these are worse than others, but I'm quite proud of what I was able to cobble together. On the final page I put a young fox and deer running off together. I wanted it to seem like Harry and Draco's inner children had been freed.
I'm a bit embarrassed to say that this bind took me about 4-5 months to complete! I started in early January, and went wildly off track learning how to round, back, and sew headbands. And then I was hit by some killer creative block that only lifted last week!
There are still many things I could improve on, but I'm so proud of everything that I learned and accomplished with this bind! A big thank you to lettered for inspiring me with such a wonderful story. <3
#book binding#fic binding#fanbinding#fanfic binding#drarry#away childish things#harry x draco#my binds
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3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes
When Spencer doesn’t call at midnight on your birthday like he usually does, you believe he truly wants nothing to do with you because of your fight a few days prior. Until there are two FBI agents knocking on your door, neither of which are your apparently missing boyfriend.
Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader
DISCLAIMER
This story is SFW but mentions strong themes. It is intended for mature audiences only.
You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.
WARNING:
Mentions of kidnapping, injuries & vague description of panic attack. Proceed at your own risk.
Word count: 8.6K
See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.
11:57 PM
Eyes trained on the long red hand, you watch as the minutes spin around the clock hanging on the otherwise-empty wall. A century could’ve passed between the last minute and now. It sure as hell feels like it.
11:58 PM
The movie meant to keep your mind from replaying the events from a few days ago failed its purpose before you even turned on the T.V. If the time between every minute was a century, then the last time you heard from him must have been an eternity ago. When was the last time you heard from him anyway?
“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”
In all your time together, Spencer had never once raised his voice at you. The fact remained even during your worst fight yet. God, how you wished he had yelled at you. Maybe then he would’ve needed less time away from you.
“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”
He was unfair. So were you. Surely neither of you truly meant what was said. You wanted to be near him so, so badly. Did he really not want to see you anymore? He must not, or Spencer would have returned at least one of the twenty four calls he ignored.
11:59 PM
It was well-intentioned on your part. The migraines were most likely psychosomatic. Otherwise the MRI scans would’ve picked up on the issue.
“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”
“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”
“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”
“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head!”
12:00 AM
Perhaps he did mean what he said. He’d still call though, right? If not to return one of your voicemails then to wish you a happy birthday? After everything the two of you shared together he should at least call today.
“Leave. Please.”
“Spencer..”
“Stop. Please. Leave.”
“Wait Spence-”
Unsure of how much longer you could hold out, you uncurl from your fetal position on the sofa and reach over for your phone. Vision peeling from the wall-clock and redirecting to the photo on your lockscreen. How beautiful he looked adorned on your screen. Then again, he always looked beautiful.
12:31 AM
‘Twelve thirty one’ read the time on your screen. The first thirty one minutes of your birthday were spent replaying exactly what you wanted to avoid. He must’ve fallen asleep. He would never intentionally miss his tradition of wishing you a happy birthday, 12AM, on the dot. “That was before you ruined everything”, your mind began. “You ruined everything”, it repeats over and over in a mantra.
“He hates me. He would’ve called if he didn’t.” a whisper only for yourself to hear. Minutes passing you by once more as you begin your spiral into doubt and self-hatred. Tears completely stain your skin, clothes, the blanket hugging your legs. Your vision is too blurred to notice it. What you do notice is that you can not breathe. Shit. You can not breathe.
“Five things” You can almost hear his voice whisper into your mind. “Five things”, you repeat aloud.
“Five things you can see.” As his voice begins to guide, your eyes frantically wander. “The blanket on my lap. My hands curled on top of it. The coffee table in front of me. The T.V playing across from me. The wall-clock hanging just above on the wall behind.”
“Four things you can touch” Not waiting a second before answering to the thought of his voice: “The cushion next to me. The couch beneath me. The sweatshirt I’m wearing. The rings on my fingers.”
“Three things you can hear” Tuning your focus on the sounds around you continue, “The T.V playing. The cars passing by outside. That stupid wall-clock ticking.”
“Two things you can smell” This one was always your least favourite because you had to think the hardest. You could hardly breathe a minute ago and your nose is clogged. How can you smell anything? “I can’t smell anything. I can never smell anything.”
“That’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me one thing you can taste” . His voice was engraved in your brain. You probably couldn’t forget it if you tried. “Salt.”
Shoulders slumping into your body, you wipe the tears clouding your line of sight and dare to look up at the clock once again. If it could speak it would probably taunt you for your pathetic state.
12:56 AM
You barely make out the time as your eyes begin to cloud again. At least you can breathe normally now. Except your head is throbbing, your eyes are sore and you’re so tired. Sinking back into your previous fetal position, you feel your body give out. As you drift off, you make one final plea for your sanity: “He probably just fell asleep. He’ll call when he wakes up.”
The pounding headache was bad enough, but the rapid pounding against your door made you want to shout violently. As if your body was now on auto-pilot, you attempt to jump up from your position on the sofa - only to not so gracefully trip over your blanket and almost face plant into the coffee table. “Fuck-AH-bitch”, you grumble just as you manage to catch yourself. “I’m coming in just a minute!” Yelling for the very impatient recipient at the other side of your door. You quickly give the clock a glance before making your way to the hallway mirror.
2:07 PM
You aren’t vain, you’re just a decent enough human to save the person outside your apartment a jumpscare from your post-ugly-crying state. When you stood in front of the mirror and actually saw yourself for the first time today, you didn’t believe there was anything you could do to save that person. That person could be Spencer. So you gave it an attempt, regardless, quickly brushing your hair out with your fingers and wiping the dried tears from your face. Finally shuffling to the door, you take a deep breath as you unlock it. He probably just showed up instead of calling. At least that’s what you wanted to believe.
“Oh. Derek? JJ?”, instead you find two of his friends and FBI profilers, who definitely caught the disappointment in your voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey Pretty Girl. Any chance Pretty Boy is somewhere behind you?” Morgan asks, slightly concerned by your poorly concealed state.
“Hi, sorry, no, he’s not here.” You blurt out as you make eye contact with your nosy neighbour passing by. You consider inviting the agents inside for privacy, but remember that your living room shares the same messy look as you and abort that thought.
“Can we come inside?” JJ asks for you, also noticing the unwanted eavesdropper.
“Um, sure”, you hesitate, clearly embarrassed. “Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.” The agents share a look that you miss and follow behind as you quickly begin to tidy up a little.
“Hey, are you okay?” JJ follows up.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you looking for Spencer here?” You were deflecting. She definitely knew that you were deflecting, but didn’t push further and for that you were grateful.
“He’s not at work and he’s not picking up his cell. So we thought he might be with you.” Morgan answers you, taking a quick glance around.
“When did you last talk to him?” JJ cuts in.
“Uh, two days ago I think?” Your breath hitches at your first reminder of the fight you had.
“Two days?” JJ’s brows furrow in a questioning manner towards Morgan, who looks just as confused. “Are you sure?” He chimes in, not waiting for your reply before he dials a number on his phone and rushes off towards your kitchen.
“Yes, I’m sure…” your eyes follow him as he disappears and quickly snap your attention back towards the blonde woman in front of you. “JJ what’s going on?”
“Exactly what time did you last see him?” She ignores your question. The slight panic in her voice is contagious and begins to shift into you. “Well I don’t know the exact time, but I’d guess some time just before midnight? When did you last see him?”
Before she can answer, Morgan calls your name as he walks back in. “Get dressed. You’re gonna need to come back to The Bureau with us.”
“The Bureau? Okay, seriously guys, what’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. JJ and I are gonna wait here while you get dressed okay?” His tone was assertive.
“No, you’re going to explain right now actually, what the fuck is going on?” But you were too worried to care about his tone.
He took a deep breath, clearly frustrated. “Spencer’s been missing for two days. ” Realisation spreads across JJ’s face as she puts the pieces together, “ And I think you might’ve been the last person to see him.”
3:42 PM.
You were currently sitting alone in one of the interview rooms at the FBI Headquarters, phone in hand, repeatedly checking the time. Morgan and JJ gave you time to clean up and get dressed before leaving your apartment. None of you uttered a single word on your way here and JJ led you into this room, telling you to get comfortable and to let her know if you needed anything.
Somebody was supposed to come in and interview you, but you had been waiting for at least twenty minutes now. The room itself was mostly empty, except for two muted couches in the middle facing each other, separated by a small table. An old rug laid under the setting and a couple of stock pictures were hung on the walls. You had taken JJ’s invitation and claimed a spot in the corner seat of one of the couches, facing the door, but sitting as far away from it as you could.
The air conditioner was set at room temperature but everything felt cold. Spencer was missing and you were definitely the last person to see him. You felt like the worst person in the world right now. The man that you loved more than anything in the world was missing and the last thing you ever said to him was that you didn’t want to be around him.
What did missing even mean in this situation? Did he just decide to up and disappear? That would be believable if he was anybody else, but this was Spencer. He would still say goodbye to his friends before leaving. Friends who were also his coworkers. Coworkers at his extremely dangerous job. If Spencer was missing then it wasn’t because he chose to be. Which means that there’s a strong possibility that he’s really hurt, or dead.
Your mind was filled with so many concerns and had you not heard the door handle click, you probably would’ve driven yourself into another panic attack. A raven-haired woman walks into the room and takes a seat opposite to you on the couch across yours.
“Emily!”
“Hey, how are you holding up?”
“Have you found Spencer? Is he okay-” The questions begin piling out of you.
“Woah, take a deep breath okay.” She cuts off your worrisome ramble before it begins.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You cry out in frustration before catching your tone. You take a short, deep breath and continue, “I’m sorry. I’m just really worried okay. I’ve been here for god knows how long and nobody will tell me anything and I just really need to know if Spencer’s okay.”
Emily slightly tilts her head as she looks at you, slightly narrowing her eyes in sympathy. “It’s okay, I understand. You feel really isolated right now because you don’t know what’s going on,” she leans in a little “but the truth is, we don’t entirely know what’s going on either. All we know is that Spencer hasn’t been to work in two days and you were the last person to see him.”
You stare back at her with an apologetic look and the two of you share a brief silence of understanding. As worried as you were right now, you had to remember that Emily and everybody else in the BAU were also extremely worried. You nodded, not saying anything.
“I need you to tell me about the last time you saw him." She’s the first to break the silence.
Instead of simply responding, you stare at her blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. It was like you physically couldn’t respond. You couldn’t even let yourself think about the last time you saw him. The guilt was overbearing, it was pushing tears to well in your eyes. Sighing, you take a gulp and try to get yourself together. Eyes wandering everywhere except towards Emily.
“You okay?” She questions for the second time, giving you the same narrow-eyed look as before, but this time there’s concern behind her eyes.
You try to respond but all you can do is bite the inside of your cheek. Emily’s presence was a welcome distraction from the current situation, until it wasn’t a distraction anymore. She’d unknowingly pushed you back into the headspace you desperately needed to stay out of to keep composed. It wasn’t her fault, you knew she was just doing her job. However, right now you desperately needed her to go away or you were going to completely break down.
Then for the first time in days the universe took pity on you. It leaned into the room in the form of one colourful Penelope Garica, giving you a rushed greeting and ushering Emily out of the room.
“Hey Em, sorry to interrupt, but we need you in the conference room. By that I mean like yesterday.” Garcia turned towards you and squeaked a sad “Good to see you again, I wish it was under different circumstances.” before disappearing. Emily drops a quick “Excuse me” as she gets up and disappears after her.
You knew she would be back. For now, you had time to calm down and you were extremely grateful for that. Taking deep breaths, you check your phone again. There on your screen was Spencer, smiling back at you brightly. You glance at the time again.
4:03 PM
Your eyes instantly land back on his face. They must have stayed staring for a while; before you knew it Emily had re-entered the room. “What’re you doing there?” The sudden interruption from her voice pulled you out of your trance. “Huh? Oh-Sorry, I was just checking the time.” A half-lie. “It’s 4:17.”
No verbal response. Her only response was a look you couldn’t entirely make out as she took a seat in her previous place. “Emily, is everything okay? Did something happen?”
“I need to tell you something and you need to listen to the full thing, okay? Spencer’s been kidnapped.” She nervously bit her lip as she broke the news to you. “Garcia pulled a recording from a surveillance camera on the street outside your apartment building.”
“What..” You interrupted, unintentionally. “What do you mean kidnapped? Outside my apartment?”
“Look. I won’t lie to you, this is bad. You were the last person to see Spencer and then he’s taken from outside your apartment-”
“Wait a minute, are you telling me that I’m a suspect?” The second time you cut her off, she leans forward and takes your hand in hers. “Listen to me. The whole thing okay? No interruptions.” Her patient tone gives you some comfort. You nod, giving her the go ahead to continue.
“Now, in normal cases, those closest to the victim would be looked at as initial suspects. But this is not a normal case. You aren’t a suspect but you might be the key in finding him. I’m going to play the recording for you in just a minute and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything. Before I play anything though, we’re going to have to run a cognitive interview and recall your last day with Spencer. I understand that it may be hard, but if you want to help find Spencer, you’re going to have to.”
As your mind processes her words, your hand attempts to close into a fist and squeezes hers. “Emily, I can’t” are the only words you can bring yourself to say.
“Why?” She’s quick to ask in surprise.
“Because it’s horrible, Emily. The last thing we did was fight. The last thing I told him was that I didn’t want to be around him.” You spit out before you can stop yourself.
The woman sighs as she mumbles your name, “You can’t possibly blame yourself for this. All couples fight. You couldn’t have known this would happen. I promise you, no matter how bad you think it is, it really cannot be worse than not finding Spencer.”
Her words are blunt, but her voice is empathetic. It’s just what you needed to hear to break out of your ego. “Okay, what do you need?”
“I need you to close your eyes okay. Just listen to the sound of my voice as I guide you.” The brunette instructs. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. “Think back to that day. What were you doing when you first saw Spencer?”
“We met at our favourite café after he got home from work. He had missed our date the night before and wanted to make it up to me. I was checking the time when I heard him call out my name from behind me.” You begin to recall.
“Okay, you turn around to see him. What’s happening around you? Is it busy?”
“No, it’s actually really quiet compared to usual. There’s maybe four or five other people here besides us.”
“What was Spencer like? His behaviour, was he acting like he normally does when you’re together?”
“He was pretty normal at first. He just looked tired, more than he usually does. But it wasn’t until we started talking that I noticed that something was off.”
“What was off?”
“He just wasn’t present like he usually was. I could tell that he wasn’t feeling great, so I insisted we go back to his place. It was closer than mine.”
You continued recalling the events of the night. When you turned on the light as you entered his apartment, he hissed slightly. That’s when you realised what was going on. He admitted that his migraines were back after some pushing. You asked him if he’d gone to the doctors and he told you how they’d found nothing again. You sat him down on the couch, got him some painkillers and brewed some tea for him. He began ranting about how there had to be something wrong. That’s when you suggested that the migraines could be stress induced. The two of you began arguing not long after that.
“Spence, have you, maybe, considered that the migraines are psychosomatic? Probably from all the stress you face at work?”
“What does my job have to do with this? What are you saying?”
“I’m just saying that you have a stressful job. It can take a pretty heavy toll. Stress is a common factor for migraines.”
“No, not like this. I just need to find another doctor. One that can actually help.”
“How many doctors will you see before you finally understand that it’s in your head?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry, I should have worded that better.”
“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”
“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”
“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”
“What? No. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking”
“No, it’s what you’re thinking, Spencer.”
“Don’t hold back now, just come out and say it.”
“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head! … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Leave. Please.”
“Spencer..”
“Stop. Please. Leave.”
“Wait Spence-”
“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”
“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”
Emily’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your head, “Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.” And so you do, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Once she’s sure you're calm, she leans back in her seat and continues, “You’re doing great. I need you to go back to the café. Was there anything or any one out of place?”
You think back. You and Spencer were sitting just by the entrance. There was another couple ordering at the counter. You could smell flowers. Not the nice, light, floral kind of scent. It was the loud, head-ache inducing, overpowering roses kind. It was coming from your left, where there were two old ladies sitting not too far from your table, lost in their own conversation. Behind them, in the far left corner, there was a man sat glaring at Spencer. You couldn’t really see the man that well but, nothing felt out of place.
“No.” You mumble in disappointment, unable to remember anything out of the ordinary. Wait. The man in the corner. “Yes, yes there’s some guy. He’s barely in my vision, but he was glaring at Spencer. I made eye contact with him once as I entered but I didn’t think anything of it.”
“I need you to really think hard,” Emily urges, “What can you remember about this man? Any distinct details?”
“Um, he was dressed in dark clothing and wearing a beanie. There isn’t really anything that stands out. I’m sorry Emily.”
“No, it’s okay you did great. You can open your eyes now.” You do so, greeted by the sight of Emily across from you fidgeting with the tablet in her lap. “I’m going to show you the recording and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything from it.”
She passes the tablet over and you click play. It’s a little blurry but you can see Spencer walking on the street outside your apartment building. It looks like he’s making his way over to your place. A man shows up out of, seemingly, nowhere and bumps into him. Spencer appears to become drowsy, unable to coordinate his movement at all. Thirty seconds later, a black van pulls up and that same man from before yanks your boyfriend into the van before it drives off.
Your stomach drops. “Fuck, Emily! He was right there. He was right outside my apartment. They took him…I should’ve…oh my god..” If you thought you were gonna have a panic attack before, you were in for a heart attack now.
Emily tries to call your attention using your name as she grabs hold of your hands, “You need to take some more deep breaths okay, panicking now is not going to help.” She’s right. Spencer has already been kidnapped, panicking isn’t going to bring him back. The video replays in your head, you recognise something.
“Wait Emily..the man - that man from the café. That’s the same man. The one who bumped into Spencer. He’s wearing the same clothes and everything. Oh my god, was he following us the whole time?” The realisation seeps through your body and shivers run down your spine. Spencer was being watched the entire time you were together. “Why did they wait? Why didn’t they just take me out and then kidnap Spencer?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but you’ve helped a lot. Now I’m going to go and tell the rest of the team what you’ve told me, okay? But you need to stay here.”
“Why? I can’t just wait here forever, how is that gonna help?” you question. You couldn’t just sit here alone with your thoughts, you needed to get out.
“Those men that took Spencer, they clearly know about you. This puts you in danger and we don’t know what their plan is. Here is the safest place for you to be. I’m going to send an agent to sit outside that door,” She points at the brown door that serves as the only entry and exit to the room you’re currently in, “His name is Agent Anderson. You tell him if you need anything at all, but you need to stay here. Please.”
You watch her stand up hurriedly and head for the door. You know she’s right. They can’t search for Spencer if they also have to worry about your safety. Getting Spencer back was the most important thing. “Okay.” You agree. “But Emily,” she turns back to look at you from the doorway, “Please bring him back, okay?”
“We will.” She Promises. It may be an empty promise. There’s no guarantee that he’s even alive, but it's enough to keep you hoping for now. Spencer has to be okay.
Spencer’s POV
It’s not very often a person finds themselves escaping death’s grasp. The chances of the same person escaping death twice is even less likely. Yet here I am, in the back of an ambulance, on my way to the hospital, having escaped death for the second time in my life. Hopefully, it won't cost me an addiction this time. “Rossi this is ridiculous, I’m fine!” I insisted to the older man next to me, looking over me like a watchdog. I was already aware that my injuries were serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, but I hoped that the EMT’s would ignore that regardless. I need to get back to her, I just want to hold her as soon as possible. “Sir, you need to lie back down” I hear a voice instruct from my right. Then I hear Dave from my left.
“Kid, you are not fine. The sooner we get you to the hospital the sooner you can leave. Now lie back down and let the medics do their job.” How am I supposed to stress the seriousness of the situation in my drugged up state? My girlfriend is in danger! “No Rossi, I need to see that she’s alright, you don’t understand. They got me from right outside her apartment, they know about her!” Why doesn’t he understand? “Reid, relax. She’s been at headquarters since yesterday afternoon. She’s fine. She’ll meet you there, Anderson’s driving her there as we speak.” I have to count on this reassurance for the time being, because I was clearly not getting my way anytime soon.
Wait yesterday? “No Rossi, that's not right. What day is it? What time?” Guilt surged my veins, did I really miss the most important day of the year? “It’s Friday. Wait no, Saturday now, about uhhh,” he paused “1:43 AM.” No, no, no. “Saturday? She spent her birthday at headquarters? That wasn’t the plan!” I desperately needed to explain something to Rossi, but I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t even fully remember what I needed to explain. “Okay, Sir, I’m going to have to inject you with a light dose of tranquillisers if you don’t calm you down.” I hear the voice on my right say.
“No, don’t touch me! Get away from me! Rossi-” My objections are interrupted by Rossi on the left again “Kid, you’re heavily drugged right now and you’re not making sense. You need to calm down. Just do as the nice lady says.” I’m entirely perplexed. What lady? And where am I right now? I try to make sense of my situation but my senses are suddenly taken over by a strong sense of drowsiness. I feel at peace, but something has to be wrong because I can hear rapid beeping behind me. “Sir, you need to keep your eyes open, do not fall asleep!”
Your POV
Somebody’s hand hesitantly shaking your shoulder wakes you up. You slowly open your eyes to see Agent Anderson crouching in front of you. Before he can get a word in edgewise, you start throwing out questions at the poor man and rush to sit up-right. “Agent? What happened? Did they find him? Is he okay?” The rapid fire of questions knocks your own breath out of your lungs and forces you to pause for a deep breath, allowing Anderson to cut in. “They found him! I’m not entirely sure of his condition, but he’s on his way to the hospital and so is the team. I can drive you so you can meet them there.” He stands up and walks towards the door, holding it open for you.
“Yes! Please! Let’s go!” You don’t even hesitate as you respond, jumping up from your seat and practically running towards the door. The journey from the building, to the car, then to the hospital is another blur. Spencer fills your mind, as usual, while your eyes are fixated on the time displayed on the dashboard. You watch the minutes pass the whole ride. ‘2:13 AM, 2:14 AM, 2:15 AM, 2:16 AM’ and finally as you arrive at the hospital:
2:17 AM
“You head on in, I’m going to park and follow behind you.” Anderson breaks the streak of silence. The car barely comes to a stop before you jump out and make a bee-line for the doors. You probably look like a maniac running up to the reception desk. “Hi Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist asks unfazed, probably used to seeing maniacs like you. “Spencer Reid. That’s the patient's name. Where is Spencer Reid?” You pester urgently. “Just a moment please.” The receptionist smiles as she begins to type on her keyboard. She turns back to you after a few seconds, instructing you on where to go. “Thank you!” You don’t even blink after she’s done speaking and immediately head towards where you're guided.
As you enter the waiting room, you’re greeted with the faces of his team from the BAU. “Hi! There you are!” Garcia is the first to notice you, coming in for a hug. “Hey, how is he?” you ask hugging back, no time for proper pleasantries. The rest of the team start making their way up to you one by one for a quick greeting too. “We don’t know yet, the doctor should be out soon to let us know.” Derek, the last one to hug you hello, answers. That’s never good to hear, nervousness covering your face. “Don’t lose hope, he’s going to be just fine!” Rossi interjects your train of thought before it can even begin. Damn profilers. Anderson, true to his word, shows up too.
Feeling slightly ashamed for your rushed behaviour you apologise and thank him for his patience. He assures you that there’s no need and he understands, before Hotch sends Anderson home for the weekend. It seems like everybody in that room takes turns sitting and pacing around. Everyone except you. Your eyes are glued to the clock at the entrance, occasionally making small talk with the others. It’s officially been three excruciating days since you’ve last seen Spencer and even now, as he’s just a few metres away, you’re unable to see him. “Happy belated birthday.” Rossi whispers, taking a seat next to you. You turn to face him, slightly stunned. “Sorry?”
“I said happy belated birthday.” He repeats. You can only return a puzzled look, unable to muster the common ‘thank you’. “Spencer. He told me, in the ambulance.” He answers your unasked question. A single tear manages to escape your eye before you sniffle and re-adjust to compose yourself.
“How bad is it?” Your boyfriend's condition is your immediate concern.
“You know it’s funny,” the old man ignores your question, knowing it’s better to not worry you further, “the whole ride here the kid would not stop going on about needing to be there for you. It’s like he was unable to comprehend anything in regards to himself. And now here I am, talking to you, and it’s like you’re unable to comprehend anything that doesn’t concern him.” He takes an almost dramatic pause so he can look you in the eyes, like he’s trying to pass on an unspoken message. Whatever that message was, you didn’t understand it.
He knew you didn’t, because he continued, “even in extreme situations like this one, you think about each other before you think of yourselves. You truly love each other. So, whatever happened before this, let it go. Feeling guilty about it won’t help.” With that he got up from his seat and headed towards the vending machine. Damn profilers. You don’t have a chance to linger on his advice for too long before the doctor shows up. “Spencer Reid?”
Everybody gathers almost immediately around the doctor, waiting to be updated. “He’s got a broken rib, minor concussion, a few deep bruises, specifically around the abdomen, and other minor cuts and bruises. Other than that he’s been heavily sedated, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll be knocked out for a couple of hours, but he’ll be just fine. You’re welcome to see him now, but only two at a time please.” Almost immediately as the doctor leaves, the group turns to look at you and JJ pipes up first. “Would you like to go in first?”
You couldn’t wait to see him before, but now the nerves were getting to you. “No. You guys go in first.”
“Are you sure?” Emily asks.
“We’re allowed two at a time, you know.” Derek reminds you.
“Yeah! The rest of us can take turns while you sit with him!” Garcia pipes up, softly.
“No, come on guys. He’s just as important to you as he is me. Besides I’ll be here for a while, the rest of you need to get home. I can see him after.” You reason.
“Okay. If you insist. But if you change your mind, let us know.” Emily nods, as she begins to head towards Spencer’s room.
You were sitting in the waiting room once more, while the team had taken turns going in and out of Spencer’s room. Eyes trained on the clock, again.
4:31 AM
Most of the team had headed home by now. You were honestly surprised they stayed as long as they did, knowing how late it was and how exhausted most of them were. The only people left besides you were Derek and Hotch. Jack was away at a sleepover so Hotch decided to stay longer, feeling responsible for Spencer. “What’s going on in that mind, Pretty Girl?” Derek now sat across from you.
“Derek!” you jumped slightly, not expecting him. “Nothings going on. Why? Is Spencer okay?”
“You know you keep doing that. Deflecting.” He doesn’t let you get away with it this time.
“I’m not.” You persist.
“You are. Look, Spencer’s one of my closest friends and by extension you’re also my friend. I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just know that I am here to listen.” He persists harder.
“Derek, I just…I don’t know what to say. Not just to you, but to him. The last time I saw him, we fought. He said he didn’t want to see me anymore. I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about if he meant it. What if he truly doesn’t want to see me?”
“Woah, woah! Pretty Girl, c’mon. He’s crazy about you, you know that. You’re practically all he ever talks about. I can promise you that no matter how bad you think that fight was, he won’t let it ruin what you have.” The reaffirmations from Emily, Rossi and now Derek were honestly unnecessary. You were a rational person, you already knew everything they’d said to you. The emotions just overpower your rationality at times but hearing those closest to Spencer confirm was how you knew for sure that it’s true. “Thank you, Derek” You responded with a small, but confident smile.
“He’s awake.” Hotch alerts the two of you. FBI training must be heavy on sneak attacks because these fucking profilers had unbelievably light steps. You turn to face the usually monotone man and instead, catch him sporting a relieved smile. He meets your eyes directly as he speaks, “He’s asking for you.” A hopeful huff leaves you as you stand up. “Go get 'em beautiful!” Derek encourages. You thank both him and Hotch, making your way to Spencer's room. You take a deep breath as you approach the door, but before you enter, you make a final note of the time.
4:55 AM
“Hi Angel.” Spencer’s voice weakly acknowledges your arrival in an instant. Your heart feels a mix of hurt and relief at the sight in front of you. His figure’s confined to the gurney and linked with tubes to an IV drip. With every step bringing you closer to him you’re able to make out more of his injuries. Bruises on almost every part of his visible skin, an especially large one covering the surface around his cheekbone, eye and temple. Cuts on his nose, lips, arms - you bite your lip trying to hold back the tears welling you eyes again. “Please say something.” He begs, matching the same pained look as you.
Rossi’s words were starting to make sense. While you looked at your lover in guilt over his marred state, he looked back at you with guilt for worrying you. “You look like hell.” Maybe not the most sensible thing to say right now, but you didn’t want to cry and worry Spencer further. The poor attempt to lighten the mood showed some success because you earned a light chuckle from your boyfriend. The atmosphere didn’t stay light for long though, the two of you almost instantly falling silent as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The words fall out from both of you simultaneously. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel. You were right and I was being unfair.” Spencer intertwines his fingers with yours, immediately rejecting your apology. “You were,” you agree “but I was also unfair. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” He tries to sit up, wincing from the unanticipated sharp sting. This earns him a soft reprimand from you, reminding him of his broken rib and you instead use the remote to shift the gurney into a position comfortable for him to lean against. “You need to be more careful!” You whine.
“I know, I know. I just, I want to hold you.” He whines back, staring at you with his dangerously powerful puppy eyes. Those eyes were actually dangerous, you had to internally fight yourself to not give in. You opted to meet him half-way and lightly wrapped your arms around his head for a quick hug. “Don’t look at me like that. There will be no holding unless the doctor clears it.” You whispered against his hair before pulling away, not wanting to accidentally hurt him more. “Technically I’m a doctor-” He tries to protest, but you beat him to it. “A medical doctor, Spencer.”
You pull the chair from behind so you can sit as close to him as possible and take his free hand into yours, holding it tightly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” You look at him in disbelief as the words leave his mouth. “Spencer, forget the stupid birthday please! Actually, can we just stop with the apologies? I’m just glad that you’re okay- sort of.” Your eyes scan over his injuries again as you say the last sentence. “Stop. Don’t do that. I’m okay, I promise.” It’s more of a request than anything else. He doesn’t like being ‘babied’ or pitied. “Angel look here.” his fingers guide your face to meet his eyes.
“I’m okay. These will heal, but please don’t give me that look. I know you want to talk about it and we will, later. Right now I just want to talk to you about anything else.”
“I know you do, it’s just hard Spencer. There’s so much to say and I was so worried. I spent three days thinking you hated me. Well, technically, I actually spent two days thinking you hated me and the third losing my mind about-”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he cups your face gently to cut off your ramble and keeps his same soft, whispery tone, “I know. I too spent the last 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes regretting the last thing I might have ever said to you was something I never should have said because I was being an ass.”
“Don’t say that!” You immediately interject, unable to even think about the meaning behind his words. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “Shhhh, just listen.”
“There’s just so much more I have to say. So much more we need to talk about. And right now I just want to talk to you about anything else, even the little things that don’t matter. Especially the things that don’t matter. So please, just tell me about all the pointless things.” His voice cracks slightly at his plea, his gaze connecting so deeply with yours, tears glazing his lashes.
Stupid puppy eyes. There was no fighting against them this time, you gave in. The two of you talked until the medication knocked him out. It was easy like that with Spencer, you never ran out of topics. Nurses went in and out of the room, hours passed by, but you stayed right there next to him. The next few days were spent in the hospital, you only left to get refreshed if somebody from the team was there with Spencer while you were gone. Spencer was asleep most of the time due to the medication. Everybody from the BAU took turns visiting, Garcia always bringing fresh food with her.
Before Spencer was discharged, the two of you agreed that it would be best for you to stay with him while he recovered. You wanted to be there for him in case he needed anything and he’d take any excuse to have you near him. It was a smart decision overall, because the broken rib rendered Spencer unable to do almost anything on his own. Which is why you were currently watching him bathe, perched on the edge of his bathroom counter, making sure your boyfriend didn’t accidentally hurt himself further.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll be fine.” Spencer insists. “He says, after almost breaking another bone trying to undress by himself earlier.” You snark.
“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.” Amusement surfaces in his voice and it causes you to blush.
“Careful, handsome, you’re going to work yourself up and end up disappointed.” You successfully fluster him back. The doctor deemed Spencer unfit for any physical activity, much to his dismay.
“Ughhh,” he groans, dramatically, rolling his head back. “This is so unfai-Ah!” His complaint is cut off by his own shriek while trying to reach the loofah around his back.
“Shit Spencer!” You panic, hopping off the counter and rushing to his side, grabbing the loofah out of his grasp. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just can’t reach my back, I guess.”
“That’s literally what I’m here for, dummy. Let me get it.” You shuffle behind him from outside the tub and gently push him forward so you can access his back.
“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to do this.” There’s a slight hint of embarrassment in his voice.
“Spencer, love, stop. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus, I like taking care of you.” It was true. Doing small things to make his life convenient made you happy.
“It’s not just because it’s embarrassing. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way for me like this, you have better things to spend your time on.” The insecurity in his words makes your heart ache. Reaching your hand around his jaw, you turn his head back towards you as you lean in to meet his eyes.
“How can I get it through your thick, beautiful, skull that I want to be here? I want to do this. I want to spend my time with you.” You state matter of factly. He searches your face for any hint of insincerity. Unable to find any, he whispers, “Thank you” and leans in to give you a gentle kiss.
“And plus, you did promise we’d make up for the lost 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes when you got discharged.” You jokingly remind him of his words to you in a conversation you shared at the hospital. He chuckled and kissed you once more.
“I will.” A re-affirmation of his promise. “But this doesn’t count.”
“How so?” You question. “We’re here together aren’t we?”
“Yes, but you deserve more than this.” He declared. “I’m going to make it up to you.”
“Spencer, you don’t have to make anything up to me. We have to make up for lost time.”
“Let me make it up to you anyway?” He flashes those damn eyes at you again.
“Just get better first okay, then we’ll talk. Plus you owe me a conversation before anything else.” Normally Spencer was the one who’d have to remind you of things, but today it was the other way around.
“I guess I do.” He sighs in defeat, “Before we do that I have to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Rossi offered to throw you a party for your birthday and I kind of, maybe, said yes? It was less of an offer and more of a statement if I’m honest, but I thought you’d like it because you’re a huge fan of his books and always wanted to see his mansion. There’s tons of space for your family and friends too and-”
You cut off his speech with a kiss. “That’s wonderful Spencer, thank you. Tell Rossi I said thank you as well.”
“You’re not disappointed? I know you prefer smaller celebrations and originally I had something else planned but given my current state it’s a bit hard to go through with those plans.”
“Of course I’m not disappointed. I’d be happy with anything as long as you’re there.” You flash him a grateful, genuine smile. He kisses you briefly. Then again. And again.
“As much as I love kissing you, we need to get you to bed. Come on.” The two of you share kisses, giggles and loving looks, as you help him out of the tub, dry him off and get him dressed. Making your way over to the bed, you first help him settle in before getting into your side. It’s clear that Spencer doesn’t know where to start.
“Let’s start with that night.” You take the lead. He takes a deep breath as he begins to recount the events.
“I felt terrible after you left. I never meant any of it and I just, I am so sorry.”
“I know. I am too.” You reassured your lover, not wanting him to bear guilt over it any longer.
“I was on your way to your apartment to apologise when I bumped into the unsub. The next thing I knew I couldn’t feel my legs and was being thrown into the back of the van.” He couldn’t offer you more than the basic details, due to the classified nature of his job. The unsub wanted revenge because Spencer was the reason they were caught in the first place. “I’m sorry” is how Spencer finished his re-telling.
“Sorry? Why are you sorry, that’s not your fault.” A light, confused chuckle escapes your throat as you speak.
“Because, I put you in danger. Because this job puts me in danger, which always puts you in danger by extension. You deserv-”
“Stop. Spencer, stop.” You cut him off, afraid of what he was insinuating. “Stop telling me what I deserve. I knew what your job was when I entered this relationship. Don’t.” Tears threatening to spill from you, your fingers digging into your own flesh to try and stop them. Spencer noticed, gently coaxing your fingers away from your palm as he massaged your hand lightly.
“Angel look at me.” He almost commands. You begrudgingly meet his eyes, holding your breath as you mentally prepare for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me speech’ you’d heard before from others. “What’s wrong?” He questions, not entirely sure as to why you were crying. For a genius he could be really unaware of his wording sometimes.
“Why do you keep saying that?” You’re unable to hold your tears.
“Because I want you to know that I’m going to do better from now. To give you the ‘better’ you deserve.” He wipes your tears, still holding on to your hand.
“Then why does it sound like you’re trying to break up with me right now?” You sniffle, squeezing his hand slightly.
“I must really suck at communicating, because that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do.” He uses his hand to gently coax your head towards him so he can kiss you. “I want to move in together. With you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. If there��s anything I’ve realised over the past few days, it’s that I really hate being away from you. I hate not being able to see you, hear your voice, feel your touch.” He gives you another kiss. “I am not going anywhere. And I really hope you don’t either. Move in with me?”
You give him a peck. “Yes.” Another peck. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll move in with you.” A deep, longing kiss. You share a few more kisses and then nestle against him. Both of you laughing.
The next few hours pass with both of you just enjoying being in each other's arms. Gently stroking the others hair, small kisses here and there, ‘I love you’s’ bouncing off from one another. The 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes spent worrying you won’t see each other again seem so silly now that you’ve got everyday to look forward to.
“Angel?” Spencer’s voice lulls you out from your semi-conscious state. “Hm?”
“Thank you.” On the surface it was just a simple sentence, but his intention was deeper than that. It was a show of gratitude for you choosing him. For staying with him through the hard times.
“Always.” Your promise that you’d do it again.
“Spencer?” You say after a second.
“Yes my love?” Spencer replies.
“Thank you too.”
“Always.”
Both of you fall asleep cuddling not long after. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but one thing was for sure, you were going to wake up next to the love of your life the next morning and then every morning after that. You’d truly found your forever person in each other.
Spoilers: Hurt, Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship.
AN - First fic I’ve ever written. It’s been in my drafts for so long, I’ve edited it so many times. I hope you didn’t feel too edged because 80% of this is without Spencer scenes (I did and I wrote it).
Feel free to drop helpful criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)
Thank you for reading!
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x fem!reader#criminal minds fandom#ssa spencer reid#fem!reader#bau team#spencer reid fic
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You have somehow managed to make me fall in love with this little universe you created with grumpy and Alessia in such a short amount of time!
Would you be able to write something about when the England squad first found about Alessia having a child and how they handled that on camp and stuff? I feel like there would be quite a lot of protectiveness, especially considering how she's part of the younger group, particulalry from some of the older age groups, like Lucy, Leah, Ellen, Jill, Jordan, Millie ect.
MINI ME — alessia russo x child!reader
*oh my god i love writing this little universe!*
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alessia had never imagined that she'd be a mother at such a young age. she had always dreamt of having a baby at the end of her footballing career while being in a stable relationship, living in a comfortable environment with little to no stress allowing her to enjoy motherhood. the total fairytale fantasy.
however that fairytale fantasy never became a reality as alessia fell pregnant at 20 while in university, after one too many drinks and night with a boy she did trust enough but clearly trusted too much as after she took a test and the two lines displayed on the test telling her she was going to be a mother — he left? he didn't want that type of responsibility at such a young age.
when alessia moved back to england and signed for manchester united she kept you hidden from her teammates worried about what they may say or think, ella being the only one who knew about you. after all she would sometimes look after you when mummy had important adult things to do or pick you up from nursery when mummy couldn’t.
"y/n? where've you gone?" she whisper yelled, looking around the foyer. you were in that toddler stage of hiding at any chance you got, putting your mum on the verge of a heart attack everytime you went out places.
"this isn't the time to play hide a seek lovie!" alessia said, a slight sterner tone in her voice as she looked around for you.
"boo!" you giggled, coming out from your hiding spot from behind the large indoor plants, looking up at your mum a devilish smile on your small face. a pointed look on your mums face as she kneeled down, grabbing your two small hands in hers.
"lovie, what have i told you about hiding, especially when we are in a new place. what if i had of walked away? you would have lost me" alessia reminded you softly as you nodded, your smile that was previously on your face replaced with a pout.
engulfing your mum in a hug, "sorry mummy" you mumbled into her chest as she kissed your forehead.
"i didn't know you had a little sister?" a voice was heard from a distant as alessia handed her passports over to the staff members, getting her room key. the blonde looking around to see who it was before her eyes landed on mille bright, lucy and leah.
alessia could feel her cheeks going redder by the second, as she stood up picking you up with her and placing you on her hip. the blonde beginning to stutter out a a response however you beat her to it with your innocent smile covering you face.
"that my mummy! i no have a sister!" you smiled at the three girls, their eyes almost popping out their head as you spoke. shock consuming them as their jaws hung to the floor.
"oh my god" lucy whispered as she was the first to break the awkward silence. alessia setting you back down on the floor as you were wriggling to be down.
"this is y/n, my daughter" alessia sighed, there being a slight silence as the information was being processed by the three girls head as you walked a little closer to the three girls, leah being the first to react by crouching down to your height. "hi y/n! i'm leah" you smiled nodding at her name looking to the other two girls standing in front of you.
“i’m lucy”
“and i’m millie”
you said a small hi to them as you moved back a little so that you were standing near to your mum, an arm wrapped around her leg. “and how old are you?” leah asked as you hummed thinking as you held up four fingers, “three!”
the girls giggling a little at your confidence, your mummy putting your extra finger down and correcting you, “lovie that’s three”
“ah”
“you play football with my mummy?” you asked, looking at leah but directing your question at all three of the girls. as they nodded all in sync.
“we do and there’s a few more of us too” millie said as you looked back to alessia wondering if she was telling the truth as your mum nodded her head as a little gasp came from you.
“where they?”
“through that long corridor, getting ready for a training session later on” lucy commented pointing to the way before you turned to your mum begging her to let you to go and see everyone else.
your mummy nodding as you grabbed her hand, swinging it a little as you followed the three girls you had just met just moments ago.
“auntie ella!” you yelled as you brushed past lucy and leah as they stood in the doorway, running to get to ella as she looked up from her phone, a smile cracking on her face as her arms opened up for you to run into. faces stopping and watching the interaction with both adoration and confusion.
“hey tiny, you alright!” ella asked as you hugged the girl tight, you hadn’t seen her since the last manchester united game a week ago. your mummy having being busy with getting ready for camp and you being at nursery up until yesterday.
“yep, i met lucy, leah and mille” you proudly said pointing to each girl as they had sat down at a table beginning to talk most likely about boring adult things.
“oh that’s exciting, what about everyone else though?” ella said as you began to shake your head stopping moments later as the midfielder began to twirl the two of you around, giggles escaping from you as she did so. stopping when she got back to her original place.
you looking around the room, a few familiar faces that you had recognised from your mum playing with them in manchester seeing them when you went to games with your grandparents — mary, keets and lotte who you only ever saw if you were down in london. the rest were new people, new people to talk to and share you infectious personality with.
ella took you around each person introducing you to each person with the permission from your mum first of course. the news spreading quickly throughout the camp that you were here and whose daughter you actually were much to many’s surprise.
the day going a lot smoother than alessia could have ever imagined, she had spent the past week thinking over and over about how it was going to go. replaying over and over in her head about how her teammates would react to her having a child.
alessia spent a good part of the afternoon after the introductions were over in the garden of st george’s park explaining her story in depth to those who were most interested; leah, keira, beth, lucy, mille, rachel and ella.
“that must have been so scary, you were so young.” beth whsipers still loud enough for everyone to hear, the girls all so intrigued but also immensely proud of alessia for her whole journey since you had arrived in her life.
as alessia told her story from the start, how she found out she was pregnant to how she came back to football.
“it was, but she’s my reason now. everything i do is for her future” alessia said simply a couple of the girls humming.
“if you ever need anything and i mean anything even if it’s just for someone to talk to, don’t be scared to ask any of us. we’ll always be here for you less” leah said softly but you could hear the protectiveness in her voice, alessia nodding taking in the support of her teammates which had grown to be her family as her eyes trailed over to where you were, the other girls following where the blondes eyes were looking.
“she’s literally a mini you” beth commented the rest of the girls agreeing as they began to list the similarities between you and your mum. as alessia smiled looking at you kicking a football with jordan and georgia
“i know, my mum says all the times that’s she’s a copy and paste of me from when i was little - only difference is she’s a bit more chatty than i was” alessia pointed out, hearing you talk away to jordan about the flowers growing in the ground, as the midfielder picked the ball from around them.
“but i think she gets that from her auntie ella!” alessia grinned looking towards her best friend who threw her hands up in shock.
“hey!”
“mummy! mummy!” you yelled out, the blondes head turning from her conversation towards you as jordan passed the ball to you. “watch this!” you added as toy had the ball at your feet and began to juggle with it from foot to foot.
alessia watched on grinning, as jordan counted the amount you got as georgia cheered you on. a small buzz of excitement coming from you as the ball dropped from your control as you ran over to your mum.
“lovie, that was awesome!” mummy cheered, as she held her hand up for you high five. the other girls saying there well dones. alessia watching as you smile got bigger and bigger with each seconds.
the way you had bonded with the team in hours warmed alessia’s heart to no end. knowing that these girls were going to now be apart of your life forever. her two worlds had joined and she couldn’t even to describe how much she loved it.
“any chance we can borrow her when we play on tuesday!” jordan joked as she and georgia came over slotting in on the seats with the other girls as they laughed but agreeing. as they all fell into a deep conversation.
you climbing up onto your mummy’s lap, as her arms wrapped around your front. a yawn escaping from your lips as you slumped back into your mummy’s chest playing with the rings on her fingers.
liked by keirawalsh and 612,540 others
alessia new day, new faces🩷
comments -
bethmead dibs on being best auntie!
1h 140 likes reply
-> leahwilliamson no i am
-> georgiastanway no it’s me
-> lucybronze come on guys i obviously win!
-> ellatoone it’s quite clearly me!
-> millebright you all wrong it’s me.
-> maryearps it’s me
-> keirawalsh no me
-> racheldaly its obviously me!
#alessia russo x y/n#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo#woso community#woso#woso blurbs#woso imagine#woso x reader#arsenal women#awfc#arsenal wfc#awfc imagine#awfc x reader#england wnt#england women#england#leah williamson#lucy bronze#keira walsh#ella toone#beth mead#rachel daly#millie bright#enwoso
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The Sleepover
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Words: 1,740
Summary: Bucky and Y/N have been dating for a while but he is yet to spend the night at her place. After breaking down barriers and allowing himself to drop his guard, Bucky soon decides it’s finally time to take the next step.
Warnings: Mentions of Bucky’s PTSD/recovery
A/N: This was inspired by the scene in TFATWS that shows Bucky waking up on his apartment floor. It’s such a visceral moment that sheds light on just how much trauma he carries with him, and I wanted to bring some lightness to that in the form of Y/N. Long story short, I just wanted our favourite super soldier to receive the comfort he so desperately needs and deserves.
--
Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the unmistakable roar of Bucky’s motorcycle pulling up outside, and you launched yourself off the couch to greet him. The two of you had been dating for a little over four months now but tonight was the first time he was staying over and you were practically vibrating with excitement.
You had met a year ago when you’d been paired together on a scouting mission in Bucharest, spending an intensive four weeks trailing a suspected arms dealer. After spending the better half of a month shacked up together in a dingy apartment, it was inevitable you'd open up to one another eventually. After months of skirting around your feelings and your friends encouraging you both to speak up, the two of you had eventually plucked up the courage to confess your feelings and the rest, as the saying goes, was history.
Bucky had been a true gentleman from the very beginning and had confessed early on that he'd wanted to take things slow - it had been a long time since he'd courted a woman and thanks to his coloured past he'd all but given up on the prospect of love, so the concept of a relationship was one he still sometimes struggled to get his head around.
You understood completely and had made every effort not to overwhelm him. You were fully aware of his trauma and the suffering he'd endured and endeavoured to provide him with a calm, safe space that allowed him to let his guard down in a way he was comfortable with.
Over the last few months he'd gotten much better with touch and now it was at a point where he practically craved it. Whether he was holding your hand, laying his head in your lap while you watched TV or wrapping his arms around you from behind while you were cooking dinner, Bucky loved touch and would always find an excuse to be near you or touching you in some way. You were more than happy to indulge his needs and fussed over him at every opportunity, joking that he was like an overgrown puppy when it came to affection.
You could have cried with how sweet he’d been when he’d kissed you for the first time - he was so careful as he’d tenderly pressed his lips to yours, as though expecting to break you, and in that moment it had dawned on you that he probably wasn’t used to being so gentle towards another human being.
It was so fulfilling witnessing this once broken man rebuilding and flourishing in his new life, and you felt truly honoured that he wanted you to be a part of it.
At the sound of a knock at the door your excitement grew to an almost immeasurable amount, and you took a moment to gather yourself before answering.
You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d gone to bed alone after spending an evening with Bucky, aching for him to be beside you, and although you understood and respected his reasons for not staying you couldn’t help the sting of loneliness that crawled in whenever he left at the end of an evening.
The sight of him standing in your doorway with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder was one you’d never dared to believe you’d witness, yet here he was, casually leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to answer the door.
“Hey Buck,” you grinned, stepping forward to greet him with a kiss which he eagerly welcomed. Wrapping his arms around you, he guided you backwards into your apartment, dropping his bag and kicking the door to a close behind him. You were breathless when he pulled away, staring up at him in awe.
“Wow, that was…just, wow,” you marvelled, completely lost for words.
“I could hear your heartbeat so I thought I’d ease some of your nerves,” he smirked, and your cheeks reddened at his confession.
“Dammit Barnes, I told you not to use your super hearing on me. What if I was in the bathroom!?”
“You think I haven’t heard you pee before?” His laughter - one of your favourite sounds - echoed around the room as you shot him a horrified glare, and he quickly pulled you into his embrace to ease your embarrassment.
“I’m reconsidering this sleepover already,” you grumbled into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in his leathery scent. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head.
“Come on doll, why don't you show me where I’ll be sleeping.”
You immediately perked up at his words - which you suspected was his plan - and with a grin you grabbed his bag and led him to the bedroom to unpack.
–
The evening passed like any other - you cooked dinner, played some board games, and ended the night cuddled up on the couch with a movie - but instead of falling asleep in Bucky's arms like you usually did, you felt wide awake.
Bucky switched off the TV as you began to tidy away your empty glasses and snacks, and an awkward silence hovered over the room as you both pondered how to navigate the rest of the evening.
"So, sweetheart…what do you usually do at this point?" Bucky broke the silence as he came to lean against the counter beside you.
"Well, usually, once you've left I go to bed," you replied, realising that the suggestion of going to bed may be misinterpreted and quickly adding, "but we don't have to do that yet if you're not tired."
Bucky's hand came to rest on your arm and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly.
"It's okay, doll. I'm happy to go to bed," he murmured, trailing his hand down to entwine his fingers with yours and leading you to your room.
You were already in your pyjamas so you slipped straight under the covers while Bucky walked round to the other side of the bed and began undressing down to his boxers. You couldn't resist a sneaky peek while his back was turned, and as soon as you gave in to your temptation you regretted it immediately - Bucky's chiselled body was truly a sight to behold and one you were sad to have to tear your eyes away from.
"Would you like me to strike a pose?" Your boyfriend's playful voice broke your train of thought and you snapped your eyes to his, finding him smirking at you with his hands on his hips.
You'd been caught red handed, and red faced! Your cheeks were blazing and you pulled the covers up to hide your face as Bucky crawled in next to you. The embarrassment quickly dissolved once he was laying next to you, your mind suddenly too preoccupied to care, and you turned to face him with a grin.
"You're here," you said gleefully, melting into his open arms.
"I'm here," he echoed, his smile mirroring yours.
With a tender kiss he pulled you closer, tucking you under his chin in a firm but gentle embrace, and soon you found the tendrils of slumber pulling you into the sleepy abyss.
–
A few hours later you were awoken by a cold breeze at your back, and you reached your hand out in the darkness, heart sinking when an empty bed greeted you.
Had Bucky left? Had he changed his mind about spending the night? Had you imagined the whole thing?
Your thoughts teetered on a downward spiral as you sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, but your insecurity quickly turned to confusion when you looked to your side and found that not only was Bucky missing from your bed, but his pillow was too.
Eyebrows knitting together, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up to try and solve the mystery, but you didn't get very far before your foot bumped into something solid.
Bucky.
The super soldier sat bolt upright at your touch, wide eyes staring straight ahead, and for a moment you feared he'd forgotten where he was altogether. He soon came to his senses, however, shaking off any remnants of sleep and looking up at you with a sheepish expression.
"I, uh…sometimes find it hard to sleep," he offered, fidgeting with the blanket he must have grabbed from the couch. "Sorry, I'm still kinda getting used to the idea of a comfortable bed."
He chuckled dryly and your chest tightened at his doleful expression - here was this brave, strong man who had been through hell, and he was apologising!?
That just would not do.
"Oh, Buck," you cooed, sinking to your knees in front of him and holding his face in your hands. "You don't need to apologise for anything."
His eyes met yours and you hoped he could see the love and sincerity in them. The guards he worked so hard to keep up slipped just a tiny bit, and he gave you a tearful smile as he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. Kissing the top of his head, you turned and reached up to grab your pillow off the bed, setting it on the floor beside his before reaching back again for the covers.
"You don't have to do this, doll. You won't be comfortable," he protested once he realised you were intending to join him, but you simply waved a hand to quiet him.
"We're in this together now baby," you softly reassured, adjusting the blanket so it covered the both of you. "I'm right here with you every step of the way."
You kissed him deeply and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down with him as he laid back on the hardwood floor. By no means was it comfortable and you knew in the morning your back would be aching, but none of that mattered while you were at Bucky's side.
He'd been fighting his demons for so long, and he'd likely be fighting them for a long time to come, but there was no way you were going to let him continue fighting them alone.
Tucked tightly into Bucky's side, your head on his chest and the sound of his heart beating in your ears, you fell back to sleep with surprising ease, and neither you, nor Bucky, woke again until morning.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky fluff#bucky imagine#james buchanan barnes#bucky x reader#james bucky barnes#marvel cinematic universe#mcu#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws#winter soldier#avengers#sebastian stan#ptsd#trauma
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Fictober23 Prompt: 4 - "Do you even know what this means?"
Fandom: DPxDC
Rating: G
Warnings: -
Tim stared at his family with pure exhaustion before letting out a sigh while covering his face with his hands because of the worried looks they were sending him after his long rant.
It had all started with a stupid school project. It was just supposed to be a stupidly simple school project. Did he think of the whole thing as the greatest nonsense project his school has ever come up with? Yes. Did he still do it? Yes. He needed the extra credits, because of some stupid meetings he had missed other projects which was the entire reason he took part in this one.
Maybe he should have tried buying his grade out of it like all the other snobbish rich kids but then he would feel guilty and the moment Alfred found out, he would have to life with the disappointed™ look. Something he really didn't want to deal with. So instead he took part in this stupid ancestry project his school had organized.
But when he had allowed the school to send in his DNA he certainly did not expect the result he got back. Because when he opened the email, he noted that it was addressed to someone named Danny Fenton not Tim Drake, he didn't even read the rest really. That should have been his first warning.
His second warning was when he had hacked into the that DNA testing facility to actually get his results back and then found a note on his data file about a near 100% DNA match to one Danny Fenton which caused them to assumed that Tim was Danny and just had sent in his DNA a second time after, he peaked through his finger onto the screen, 5 years. That should have been his second warning.
But no, Tim had actively ignored all the warnings and decided to dig into who this Danny Fenton was. Because there were so many possibilities of how they could match but only so little to explain the time difference between them sending in the DNA samples. For dear good Tim hoped to all things that there wasn't someone else to have attempted to clone him before Ra, no worse even, he hoped HE wasn't the clone in this situation.
Really he didn't want to add existential crisis to all the problems and cases he already had to deal with.
So what does one do best when they learn there was someone with nearly the same DNA you have? He looked that someone up. So that was what Tim did next. He had spent nights looking up anything he could find, summarizing all the information he found, branching off when he found other concerning stuff and then stewed in some frustration of the incompetence of some people when discovering other facts.
In the end Tim compiled all the data he had found into a 30 slides long power point. That he had presented to his family and was awaiting their reaction. Bruce had grunted earlier and the demon brat had huffed out something in between slight 25 and 26 earlier. Jason had muttered something right at the beginning and Dick had stayed quiet the entire time, so did Cass. Steph hadn't said a thing either and Duke looked just puzzled.
"Do you even know what that means?" Demon brat finally broke the silence, causing Tim's eye to twitch before aggressively pointing to his last slide still on the presenter.
"Yes, I do know what this means. I have listed all possibilities right here if you haven't noticed. And i explained possibility three, four and six on slide-"
"Replacement. I don't think that's what the brat means." Jason cut in and Tim glared at him.
"Timmy, when was the last time you slept?" Dick carefully asked and Tim directed his glare at him.
"I believe Master Timothy hasn't slept for about 72 hours now." Alfred added in with that disapproving stare of him and time looked away stubbornly. How was the amount of sleep he got relevant right now? There was a possibility of him being a clone or someone having cloned maybe even years before he started to follow B around as a kid with a camera.
Bruce let out a sigh and Steph appeared to try to hide a chuckle leaning on Cass shoulder. "He must be lacking sleep if he doesn't see the most obvious possibility considering the time line he presented on slide 18."
"Oh so, I am not the only one thinking he is missing another obvious possibility?" Duke asked and once more Tims eye twitched. Getting fed up with his family, Tim huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at them all.
"And what is it that I am obviously missing?"
"The screenshot of the mail you put in slide 3 stated that it's not a 100% match but 89%. In addition it stated in the last line a suspected possibility of a familiar relation. I am disappointed, Drake. That you would miss something this obvious."
"What?" Tim whirled around going to the slide to reread the mail.
"Considering that I am pretty sure, we don't have any sort of cloning case here Tim." Dick started his voice now slightly laced with Humor and Tim narrowed his eyes at his older brother over his shoulder. "You just discovered that you had a twin, that we probably still go to rescue."
Tim's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He did not know what to say and before he could even catch up with what his brothers had said Alfred was already behind him pushing him towards the elevator.
"It is time for you to get some sleep Master Timothy. I am sure Master Bruce and the others will be perfectly able to handle the rest of the situation with the information you compiled. You can join them after you have rested."
#fictober23#danny fenton#danny phantom#dp x dc#dpxdc#crossover#tim drake#damian wayne#jason todd#dick grayson#bruce wayne#Tim is sleep deprived#He did not see the most obvious possibility#Tim and Danny are twins#Tim was convinced that either him or Danny was a clone#he thought there had been someone else besides Ra who did that#Boy would he have fun with that theory if he learned about Vlad cloning Danny#Danny has no idea of what was happening at all#he just did that DNA thing in middle school#before the while ghost DNA situation#Now he probably got the entire Batfam ready to come help him#does he need rescueing?#Tim certainly things so#dcxdp#unedited#no beta we die like danny
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Edible
Word count: 16.0k
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader
Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Drugs. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (if you squint), Cum Play. Major Fluff.
A/N: The very last part of our four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Jake's story to wrap things up! Thank you so much for reading these one shots over the last few weeks, maybe we will do it again soon! ❤️
Usually, Valentine’s day wasn’t a holiday that bothered you. As a single person in your mid 20’s, it’s almost expected that you dread the 14th of February. The years before and between relationships never bothered you, but as you slip into your pajamas at 7:50pm on a Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s day, the realization that you’re alone hits a little harder.
You shuffle down the stairs in your slippers and matching PJ set, your destination being the bottle of red wine in the fridge. As you stand in front of the door and look at the dry erase calendar on your freezer, you avoid acknowledging the little heart you drew around the number 14 when you were clearly in better spirits. You also happen to see the little sticker that lives permanently above the column of Fridays. Trash day.
Letting your head fall back, you groan at the ceiling before turning on your heel towards the trash can. Lifting the half-full bag out and tying it off, you consider whether or not you really need to take the bin out to the curb… It’s so, so cold, and you’ve had a tough day already.
Shaking your head, you pull yourself out of your thoughts and decide to grow up. You get moving and elbow the door open, wincing as the cold air hits your skin. The short sleeve shirt and matching shorts combination are really not on your side at this moment as you jog down the four stairs towards the spot where your trash bins live.
It’s a minute of wrestling before you get the bag in and flip the top closed, grabbing the handle and beginning to wheel it towards the end of your driveway. The rattling of the plastic wheels is so damn loud you feel like you’re waking up half your neighborhood. Oh, wait. They’re probably all out for Valentine’s day. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you kick the bin upright and position it on the patch of grass near the curb.
As you’re about to turn and head inside, you hear rumbling coming from across the street. When you raise your head and try to focus despite the limited light from the streetlamps and the clouded moon, you see your neighbor from across the street. For a moment you feel a little vulnerable in your pajama set, legs bare and no bra, but then you see he’s shirtless, a thin bathrobe over his shoulders and down his back, but it’s hanging open, giving way to show you his tanned chest and stomach. His sweatpants are hanging sinfully low on his hips, and even though you’re all the way across the street, you can see there’s just a tiny bit of hair peeking out from above his waistband.
He has his head down as he does almost the same exact thing you did- he shimmies the bin into position on the curb and makes sure it’s closed tight, left with some defense against the wind. His hair is in a low, messy bun, some stray strands of hair framing his face.
As you stare at him from the shadows across the street, realizing you’re probably giving off way weirder vibes than intended, you think back on when you’ve seen him and try to remember his face. As you think, there’s a silhouette of a cat in his front window, a warm glow behind it. And then the memory comes to you.
There was one afternoon when you had first moved in, the summer, seven or eight months ago. He came and knocked on your door, a pair of sunglasses on, his shirt unbuttoned and paired with some breezy linen pants. You answered the door in confusion, but were friendly regardless.
“Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Jake. I’m your neighbor. I live across the street?” He said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.
“Right, right. Hey. I’m Y/N.” You answered with a slightly concerned smile. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, um,” he started, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger as he gathered his thoughts. You watched as he crossed his arms over his chest in almost a nervous habit.
“Do you wanna come in?” You offered, but he shook his head no, waving you off casually.
“No, no. I actually just have a weird and maybe cumbersome favor to ask of you.” He said, his confidence building as the conversation went on. You raised your eyebrows, a little confused, but wordlessly encouraging him to go on.
“There’s this cat that lives in my house and I usually leave him with my brother’s girl when I travel, but she’s actually tagging along, so I’m kind of in a pinch and need someone to feed the thing.” He said. You gave him a look of playful confusion.
“That’s a weird way to say you have a cat.” You quipped, laughing.
“I’m not keeping it! I just don’t want it to get hungry or get hit by a car or something.” He said, laughing through his words. Before you can poke any more fun at him, he keeps talking.
“He’s a grazer, so he really just needs his big ass bowl refilled once a day and he’ll be fine,” he said, flashing you a little smile. “And water.”
You considered it for a moment, but he had such a way about him that there was no way you would be able to say no.
“Okay. Yeah, sure. For how long?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. He fished out a key from his pocket, handing it over as he spoke. It was brass and there was a little soccer ball keychain attached.
“Just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.” He said with a little excitement in his voice. Holding his spare key in your hand, you nodded and gave him a polite smile.
“I can do that. For sure.” You reassured him as he leaned from foot to foot, almost like he had somewhere to be.
“I fed him just now and I’m about to head out, but when you go in, the kitchen is on the left and his bowl is there. The food is in the bin with… with the food. It’s clear so… you can see it.” He said, taking a few steps backwards. “He also bites, but he’ll probably hide from you anyway, so don’t sweat it!” He added, jogging down the two stairs to the sidewalk.
“O-okay!” You answered, perplexed but charmed. He shouted across the road to thank you before he hopped into his car and backed out of his driveway.
When you eventually went over to his house the next day, you opened the door cautiously, not wanting to sneak up on the cat who you were warned would bite you. After a moment of wondering why you agreed to this, you shrugged and pushed the door open gently. As if the cat was waiting for Jake himself but then realized it was you, he went flying by so quickly you only heard the thump of his paws and the jingle of his collar. Your eyes almost immediately found the big bowl in the kitchen, sitting in the middle of a little placemat. ‘DAVY’ was etched into the porcelain, so you figured it had to be his. Like Jake mentioned, there was the bin of food about a foot away.
You didn’t see the cat a single time that weekend. Sunday morning, after you fed him the last time, you left the key on the hook near Jake’s front door and locked it from the inside. You didn’t hear from him, but one day when you got home from work, there was a bottle of wine on your welcome mat with a card underneath, wax sealed with care. Inside, you found a card with a short note of thanks and his name signed in indigo ink.
You’re pulled back to the present as a car flies down your street, headlights flashing in your peripherals. The light pulls his attention too, and it’s seconds before he notices you across the street. He raises one open hand, giving you a casual wave. You smile and wave your hand back and forth, a polite, neighborly greeting.
“Look at you, all dressed up. Big plans tonight?” He says, projecting his voice all the way across the street. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, realizing he’s absolutely calling you out for being outside in your pajamas.
“Oh! Ha. Yeah.” you say, the laugh incredibly forced, your nerves turning you into an awkward, stiff mess. Freezing cold, nervous, and a little embarrassed, you give him another quick wave and scurry inside your house, disappearing. You close the door and snatch the bottle of wine from your fridge, taking the bottle and glass with you into the living room.
You practically dive under the blanket on your sofa and wrap it around you in a hurry. As you reach for the bottle of wine and pour yourself a little glass, you hear your phone buzz from somewhere in the couch cushions. Fishing it out from under your thigh and some layers of blanket, you squint and turn the brightness down immediately.
You have a few notifications from instagram and other apps, and one text from an unsaved number.
???
8:08pm: Sorry for being weird, lol
It has to be Jake. You hop up from the couch and shuffle to the bulletin board and dry-erase calendar on your freezer to see the torn piece of paper pinned to it. Comparing the two numbers, you confirm it’s the same. That leaves you frozen as you try to figure out how to respond.
You
8:10pm: Oh no worries, you were right. I’m clearly staying in tonight 🍷
When you get back to the couch, nuzzling yourself back under your blankets, you look over your shoulder and out the window at his house. There are a few lights on and the cat’s silhouette has disappeared from the window.
You decide to save his number quickly before finally taking a few sips of your wine.
Jake - Neighbor
8:13pm: Likewise. I’m about to take an edible and spend the rest of my romantic evening falling down a youtube wormhole.
Laughing, you think of something clever to send back. It takes a while because everything you come up with seems to be toeing the line of flirty and friendly.
You
8:17pm: Sounds fun... If you open your curtains a little more I could probably watch along. 🙂
Jake - Neighbor
8:20pm: Or you could accompany me down said wormhole, meaning we both won’t have to lie about being alone on Valentine’s day tomorrow?
You’re immediately conflicted. This guy is your neighbor, and although he seems friendly, this feels like the beginning of a terrible Hallmark movie or even worse, one that went straight to Netflix. You think about the invitation as you stare at your glass of wine on the coffee table next to your kindle. It couldn’t hurt to just go hang out for a little while… right? It would be good to get to know him. Maybe you could convince him to mow your lawn over the summer or something.
Not to mention he’s cute. Your mind flashes back to the way he looked glowing under the streetlights, his messy bun and the tan line on his hips that you need to stop thinking about before your mouth begins to water.
You
8:21pm: Lol are you serious? I don’t want to intrude
You bite at your lip nervously, waiting for him to reply. The little bubbles that indicate he’s typing make your stomach churn as you look over your shoulder and out the window once more. There’s a little bit of a glow coming from the other side of his house now and you see his shadow move across the window.
Jake - Neighbor
8:22pm: It’s not intruding if I’m inviting you.
It doesn’t take much convincing on his end, if any. You down the last of your wine for courage and ditch the blanket on the couch. Heading up the stairs, you grab the cardigan you left hanging over the banister and pick out something to wear. The matching jammies clearly aren’t appropriate, but you don’t want to dress like you’re trying too hard.
You
8:25pm: Should I bring anything?
Standing in your closet for a few minutes, you ultimately land on a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt, a soft baby blue Rush tee with the band’s name spelled out in big, rainbow bubble letters. It was once your dad’s, but lives in your wardrobe as a slightly cropped version now.
Jake - Neighbor
8:26pm: Nope. Just yourself. Need the address? 😉
Pulling on the cardigan, you tug the back of it down a little to assure you’re not showing up with your ass on display from the get-go. You stand at the door with nothing but your phone and keys, bracing yourself for however this Valentine’s night is about to go.
You
8:28pm: I think I remember how to get there. I’m on my way 🙂
—
You pull your sleeves down over your hands as you climb the steps to his porch, the freezing cold wind whipping through your cardigan as if it wasn’t even there. You rap your knuckles against the wooden door, a small wave of nerves rushing through your body as you wait for him to answer. You hear his footfall against the wooden floors as he makes his way to the door, and as he opens it you feel a rush of warmth as the heat from inside blows past you.
His eyes subconsciously look you over and as he realizes he pulls his eyes away, letting them dart around for a few seconds before landing on your face. He offers a shy grin and swallows down his nerve. “Any trouble finding the place?” he jokes, giving you a small glimpse of his real smile.
“Oh yeah, traffic was awful...” you quip back, watching his full smile bloom across his face.
“Come in, come in. I know it’s cold out there.” he says, ushering you inside. The house is very different from the last time you’d seen it. More art on the walls, a new rug or two, and most importantly there were lights on. A fire is going in the fireplace, the logs crackling drawing you into his home further.
“Your home is beautiful. I’m suddenly insanely jealous that I don't have a fireplace.” you smile, gesturing towards the beautiful brick hearth.
“Thanks, I try to do what I can here and there. What’s a home if you can’t enjoy the time you spend in it…” he ponders, suddenly flicking his attention back to you. “I could…show you around if you want, it’s kind of a mess at the moment…” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips as his eyes scan the room. You can tell he is feeling put on the spot and your chest warms at his underlying hospitality.
“That’s okay, I know you were totally not planning on having a guest.” you laugh, hoping to ease his anxiety.
“Yeah, I’m not here too often, and when I am, things kind of get strewn around and forgotten. It’s actually a fluke that I’m here now. Which brings me back to the part about enjoying the house while I’m here.” he says, trying to unnecessarily justify his lived in space.
Your mind wanders as you recall his empty driveway the past few weeks, and you try to piece together if you ever remember him mentioning what he does for work, or why he’s gone so often. You hardly ever see him coming and going, just the glow from his windows on rare occasions.
He pulls you from your thoughts and you refocus on him, realizing that he too, has changed into different clothes. He’s added a slightly wrinkled black button down shirt to a pair of equally as wrinkled khaki pants, rolled at the ankle. To anyone else this would seem like a strange choice to hang out on the couch, but on him it seemed fitting, almost like these were his relaxing clothes.
“Can I get you anything to drink, or?” he asks, gesturing towards the kitchen, a tiny little sliver of his stomach peeking from beneath the frayed hem, showcasing an unseasonably dark tan.
“Sure, um I will take some water?” you squeak out, trying to pretend you weren’t just staring at his waist.
“Okay, you can just… sit wherever. I'll be right back.” he says nodding towards the couch. He walks off into the kitchen as you venture into his living room, the fireplace providing the perfect ambience for such a cold night. His couch isn’t huge, but it does seem comfortable. A few throw pillows are tossed to one side, giving you the hint that he was previously occupying the other side. You move a few of the pillows towards the center and position yourself at the opposite side on the chaise lounge, as you let your eyes glance around the room. The walls are dark and covered with art, and bookshelves line most of the walls. A large TV sits just to the left of the fireplace, the video he was previously watching paused and awaiting his return.
You relax into the couch cushions, closing your eyes and listening to the perfect crackling sound of the fireplace. The glass of wine from earlier is seeping into your bones and you’re suddenly feeling just a little bit more relaxed. Jake returns a few seconds later, offering you a glass filled to the brim with ice water.
“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not, so I just made it how I like it.” he says, falling back into his place on the couch. He tosses a few of the throw pillows between you, down onto the ground so that there is less of a barrier, before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.
“Where’s your little kitty cat?” you ask, turning to face him. “Or did you find him a home after all…”
“Who? Ol’ Davy Jones?” he asks, an air of underlying affection in his tone. “Ahh, that little vagrant is around here somewhere. Truthfully, I just haven’t even had time to think about finding him a home.”
You smile because you can tell he is lying. “That’s funny, because it’s been what? Almost a year now?”
“Has it… Hmmm.” he says, staring off into space. “I’m sure he’ll be around, he’s a curious little thing.”
“You know they say that you shouldn’t name pets that you don’t plan to keep…” you press, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“Well…” he pauses. You can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece together an excuse. “He wasn’t responding to ‘hey you feline’, so I was practically forced into giving him a name. You know how these things go. I really am going to find him a good home one of these days when I have the time.”
You nod your head with a smile, as he shakes his own head, stifling back a guilty grin.
“So that is why he has a food bowl with his name on it, right?”
“Aye, aye, what’s with the twenty questions, hm?” he barks, tossing a throw pillow towards you. You catch it and hug it to your chest, resettling into your place.
“Oh, no reason. Just trying to get to know my neighbor and his cat, that’s all.” you say with a cheeky smile.
“He’s not my cat. He just lives in my house.” he says finally, feigning arrogance. “Anyways, tell me about you…”
“Not a whole lot to know, I just moved here, well almost a year ago now, for work. I go to work, come home, watch trashy TV and cook, and sometimes on the weekends I catch some friends at the bar. I also occasionally feed my neighbor's cat. Oh, and spend most holidays alone, which is how I ended up here.” you laugh, not wanting to give too much away.
“Well, I’m glad that you did, I’m rather enjoying having company for once. Listen, I was serious about the edible if you…” he trails off, nervously licking over his lips.
“Oh, yeah of course. Let’s do it.”
He stands from the couch, walking across the room and rummaging around in a backpack on the floor. The first thing he pulls out is an eyeglass case, tucking it under his arm. Then he reaches back in, searching for a moment more, before he pulls out a small black bag and returns to the couch, opening it up as he sits. He places the black glasses case on the table, then picks it up again, making sure there are actually glasses inside before closing it and putting it aside for later.
“Oh Jesus, Josh…” he mutters under his breath. He licks his lips and turns to look at you. “Okay, so, apparently they are peach ring gummies. My brother gave them to me, but didn’t specify the variety.”
“That’s actually fine, I love peach rings.” you blush.
“Really? Okay, good. I thought–” he stops himself with a smile. “Okay, ladies first, how much do you want?
“Um, how much are you gonna have?” you ask, letting your eyes flick up to his.
“Dunno…” he says, inspecting the bag for the details. “Okay, probably half. You think you can do half, or do you want a quarter?”
“I think it should be an even playing field, I’ll do half if you do half.” you answer.
“Whatever you say…” he says with a smile, trying to pull apart the sticky yellow and orange gummy. It stretches beyond belief and he stops. “Okay, so. I think you’re going to have to bite it.”
“Are you sure?” you ask hesitantly.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal, you just take half and I’ll take the rest.” he says, leaning over to place it in your hand. You bring it to your lips, biting half of the gummy with your eyes locked on him. He doesn’t dare blink as he watches your mouth, the sugar crystals collecting on your lips. You see him swallow as you pull it from your lips and hand the remainder back to him. He quickly pops it into his mouth and starts to chew.
Both of you look at each other as you swallow it down, sour looks on both of your faces as the flavor of the strain shines through.
“That was… not my favorite gummy I’ve ever had.” he winces, clearing his mouth of the flavor.
“I think it was okay…I’ve definitely had worse.” you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water.
“I can’t believe I traded my good blunts for that.” he says, thinking back with a shake of his head. “So, what do you think we should watch? A movie? A TV show? Youtube?” he rattles off.
“What would you watch if I wasn’t sitting here right now?” you ask, leaning your body into the arm rest.
His demeanor quickly changes, his cheeks blushing and his tone growing a bit bashful. “If you weren’t here? Um, probably just youtube videos.” he answers, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.
“Okay, but what kind of youtube videos? What fascinates you…”
He fidgets with the buttons on the remote, trying to decide if he should lie or be honest. His eyes flick up to the TV, then over to you. “Mostly history stuff, like old shipwrecks and stuff. Or maybe sailing videos or guitar videos, I don’t know.”
You can tell he chose to be honest, his fingers still scratching at the buttons on the remote as he waits to see what you’re going to say.
“Okay so do it. Show me your favorite shipwreck. Enlighten me a little…”
“Really?” he asks, a look of shock painted across his face.
“Yeah, why not? I like that kind of stuff too. It’s interesting.”
“Yeah, yeah it is really interesting. Okay, hold on.” he grins, clicking the remote to life and returning to youtube. He scrolls to his favorites and makes his way through what has to be a hundred videos, until he finds what he’s looking for.
“Alright, I know this is a little bit boring at the beginning, but I swear it gets better. I actually learned about this first hand at this little museum in the UK last year, and I really fixated on it, and had to immediately consume every piece of media I could find about it. If you hate it we can turn it off, it’s just… really cool if you can make it through it.” he explains, and you smile watching his eyes light up talking about it.
You smile and nod as he clicks on the video titled, ‘Ghosts of the Mary Rose’. He settles back into the couch, balancing the remote on his knee, and slinging his arm across the back of the couch. You can’t help but notice the proximity of his fingertips as they rest just inches away from your shoulder. The fireplace is still roaring, and the edible is starting to kick in, and you come to terms with the fact there is no place you’d rather be than sitting here learning about this old boat.
Oddly enough, Jake wasn’t wrong. This was one of the cooler shipwrecks you’d learned about, and the fact that he saw it in person made it even better. He proceeded to talk through most of the video, further extrapolating on the points they were making, but explaining them better, in a way that was so purely Jake.
It was clear history was a passion of his, his eyes simply glowing with pride as he spoke about what he knew about this wreck and others similar. You could tell that he was dying for someone, just anyone, to ask him a single question about it, and tonight, you gave him that and more.
You wondered if he had people in his life that indulged him on this regularly, or if he kept it bottled up inside. The way he spoke about it so quickly, stumbling over his words just to get them out, had you thinking that maybe it was the latter, and you suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of him ever feeling lonely.
After what had to be an hour or so, the gummy had met its full potential in your bloodstream. The two of you sat almost mute, staring at the TV screen as he selected videos for you to dive into, but little did he know that it wasn’t the TV you were fixated on. It was the glaring image of his hands as they reflected into the mirror hanging over his fireplace. You watched as they moved, the way his fingers wielded the remote, and the way his fingers would twitch every so often, quickly stifled back by the folding of his hands. You stopped yourself from turning your head to look at them, knowing that if you did you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away.
They seemed large. Slightly larger than the average man’s hands, but they also seemed well manicured. Perfectly manicured actually, as if they were his top priority in his grooming habits. His nails were perfectly trimmed, no nicks or cuts, just perfectly tanned hands that tapped away against his thighs. You pulled your eyes away from the mirror to reach for your water, the dry mouth starting to take effect.
You drank down half of the glass, and you could almost feel his eyes on you as you did so. You placed the glass back down, and allowed yourself one look at him, finding that you were correct in the feeling of his eyes fixed on you. His entire mood had shifted, you could tell he was feeling completely relaxed as he lounged on his couch. His eyes were a little red, slightly droopier than usual, and his cheeks flushed pink. His legs were crossed on the coffee table, and his bare foot bobbed along to the sound of the video playing in the background.
You’re not sure if it's the fireplace, the edible, or the man sitting next to you devouring you with his eyes, but you start to feel warm and need to remove your sweater before you burst into flames. You pull the knitted fabric over your arms, and toss it to the floor, leaving you in just your cut off tee, and you swear you see his eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of your torso.
In the silence, you hear a faint jingling. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, and your eyes shoot to the entryway. His cat trots into the room, probably only expecting Jake, but as soon as he lays eyes on you, he puffs up and hops straight up into the air, then bolts back the way he came, his paws skittering across the floor in a flurry.
The sound makes Jake’s head turn, pulling his eyes from your body and over towards the source of the noise.
“Oh my god, he’s real…” You say in amazement, a smile creeping onto your lips. Jake rolls his eyes at the cat’s dramatics, leaning back to see if he can catch where he went.
“Daaaavvvyyyy…” he calls out in a faux-cockney accent, his voice low and gravelly, rumbling through the house. You would be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.
“He’s not a fan of me, I don’t think.” You comment, looking in the direction the tiny black cat ran.
“Don’t think he likes anyone but me, honestly. Bites and scratches the absolute hell out of my brother’s girlfriend whenever she watches him for me.” He says with a chuckle, craning his neck to try and see the cat. He makes a quiet pspspsps sound, but Davy is nowhere to be seen or heard.
“When I found ‘em, he was under a dumpster behind a… a bar.” He says, sitting back up to look at you. “He was practically shouting at me as I walked by, like he was calling for help. So I walked over thinking it was like, a fuckin’ baby or something. I don’t know.”
You grin as he tells the story, which you’re finding quite endearing.
“He called you over? Oh, he’s bold.”
“Sure is. So I wrapped him up in my shirt and put him in the passenger seat… he seemed too little to eat the crunchy little cat food, so I went to the store and got some milk… I didn’t fuckin’ know what to do.” He chuckles and itches his nose, his eyes flicking to yours as he realizes you’re invested in the story and listening with bated breath.
“We got home and he drank some… had a little milk mustache and everything. He seemed to feel better when I got him into the heat, so I made him a deal. He could sleep in the bathroom for the night if he hit the road and left town the next morning.”
“I see that worked out.” You quip, giving him a knowing smile.
“Yeah, the five-pound rapscallion didn’t hold up his end. Owes me a thousand souls now.”
You hum with raised brows as you nod, letting him go on.
“I actually…” he starts, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket he taps and scrolls as he talks. “I actually woke up the next morning and caught the poor thing asleep in a pair of me old dirty trousers.” He says, a little bit of that accent slipping in again. He turns his phone around and shows you a photo of Davy curled into a tiny ball inside a pair of patchwork denim pants, a few different shades of blue.
“Oh my god…” you mumble, popping out your bottom lip.
“Lookit his tail over his nose. How was I supposed to show ‘em the door?” He says, flashing you a grin.
“But you’re still gonna rehome him, huh?” You shoot in his direction, your tone accusatory.
“Should we watch something else? Got any requests?” he asks, gesturing toward the TV with the remote.
“Mmm, you said you liked guitar videos, right? What’s your favorite guitar video of all time?” you ask, crossing your ankles as you stretch out on the chaise.
“That is quite the loaded question, lass.” he quips, tapping the remote to his lips. His full, pink, totally kissable lips. Wait, he’s your neighbor. You have to stop.
“Can you narrow it down to a genre?” he asks, flicking his eyes over to you. He takes a deep breath and bites his lips together waiting for your answer.
“How about…I don’t know, rock? Rock n’ Roll, specifically.” you smirk.
“I know a thing or two.” he chuckles, scrolling through his favorites.
“Ahh, okay this one. This one right here. This man was instrumental in my–” he stops, clearing his throat. “He is one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever witnessed.” he finishes.
“Oh, who is it?” you ask, watching him select the video.
“Pete Townshend.” he answers, starting the video. “He is an incredible guitarist, but that isn’t what makes him great in my opinion. He has this special ability to write insanely powerful rock songs where the guitar isn’t the main focus, or even the main instrument. His work with The Who is just… He isn’t flashy just for the show of it, because he didn’t have to be. His skill speaks for itself and that in itself is an accomplishment.”
“Wow, you know a lot about him. Would you say he is your favorite, then?” you ask.
“Ahh, I don’t know. I have a lot of favorites. A lot of influences I suppose. Lots of people who shaped me.” he answers, and slowly but surely you start to realize he is letting you know him more and more with each passing second, and you’re hanging on his every word.
“Shaped you?” you ask, trying to squeeze yourself through the tiny crack in his armor.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You need anything while I’m up?” he says, standing up slowly and effectively shutting you out. His half smile is a little guilty, which tells you he’s well aware of what he just did.
“I’m okay.” You answer, giving him a knowing smile as he shuffles out of the room, the sound of his bare feet on the hardwood the only sound under the music playing quietly from the tv.
It’s a minute or two before he gets back and this time when he comes to sit on the couch, he lays across the cushions on his stomach, grabbing the pillow to your left and tucking it between his arm and his head. He’s so, so close to you now, the smell of his shampoo making its way over to you when he nuzzles his head against the pillow. Once he’s completely comfortable, he takes a deep breath and then speaks softly.
“I’m a musician. So. When I said ‘shaped me,’ I meant it almost literally.” His voice sounds a little different when his cheek is smushed into the throw pillow.
“So I’m guessing you play guitar?” you say, blinking up at the TV as the man on the screen’s fingers crawl across the frets.
“I do.” He says it simply, but not in a way that’s short. You look down at his right hand, bent at the elbow and holding on to the pillow. At this distance, you can see there’s a little indent around his middle finger, like he wears a ring of some sort.
“I don’t really have any… creative talents. So I think that’s really impressive.” Your words are quiet and you’re trying to coax him back out of his shell. He lifts his head from the pillow, and when he’s looking up at you from below, his glassy brown eyes are enough to make your heart melt. You have to blink a few times through the brain fog to really focus on them, and when you do, your pulse quickens.
“I’m sure that’s not true. What do you do?” He asks softly, and luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re staring at him.
“It’s very true. I’m an accountant.” You answer, laugh bubbling out of you at the absurdity of it all. “Literally the opposite of creative.”
He breaks into a grin, laughing with you for a second or two, and you think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.
“...Alright. You got me there. We can watch something else…” He says, looking for the remote, and you mourn the loss of eye contact.
“No, no! I wanted you to pick something you’d watch even if I wasn’t here, and you did. Plus, I kinda like your commentary. This stuff is all new to me.” You say, and he chuckles softly. He rests his head on the pillow again, his arm grazing yours unintentionally. He pays it no mind.
“If you say so.”
After another two videos accompanied by Jake’s narration, you find yourself so hungry, you think you might be withering away. When there’s a lull in his commentary, you whisper into the dim room from behind him.
“Is it normal to feel like I need a snack so urgently I might pass away?”
He stretches a little, rolling over to look at you again. You give him a slow smile, your eyes squinting as your cheeks push them closed.
“I can go see what I have… It’s been a minute since I’ve been home but there’s probably–”
“No!” You interject, sitting up a little more. He jumps at the motion, a little startled. “I have this tray of chocolate covered strawberries in my fridge! My coworker called in today, and her boyfriend sent her like two dozen of them, so obviously I brought them home.”
“Oh hell yeah.” He answers, smiling back at you.
“I’ll be right back!” You say excitedly, hopping off the couch and swiping your keys off the table. You quickly slip on your shoes and head for the front door, darting out into the cold night.
It’s not long before you’re kicking the refrigerator door shut and sneaking back out into the windy February air. As you cross the street you see his door open, and once you’re close enough, you duck inside. He takes the box from you right away as he shuts the door.
After putting it down on the table near his front door, he reaches for your bare arms, rubbing them to warm you up. He laughs softly as you smile up at him.
“You didn’t bring your sweater, you absolute maniac…” he chides playfully, and you laugh in response, a chill running up your spine. His hands are so warm and his presence so comforting that you find yourself resisting the urge to wrap yourself up in him.
“I didn’t think it would be that cold.” you mumble, trying to keep your teeth from chattering.
“Oh, you thought the cold snap had just let up suddenly?” he asks with a sarcastic inflection, and you roll your eyes with a smile as he lets go of your arms. “Figured it was probably a cozy 27 degrees instead of 22?”
You pick the strawberries back up and walk past him, back toward the living room to take your seat again. Before you can offer him a snarky retort, he’s quickly heading up the stairs of his old house, taking them two at a time as they creak and crack. Footsteps sound from above you, moving in one direction and then the other, before he’s coming back down slower than he had ascended. When he appears in the entryway of the living room, he’s holding the biggest, plushest navy blue down comforter you’ve ever seen in both of his arms. He’s peeking over and around it as he navigates behind the coffee table, careful not to trip or bump into something.
“What’s all this?” You ask, laughing at the sight before you as you sit criss-crossed on the chaise, the container of strawberries still sitting in your lap, uneaten.
“The comforter from my bed, obviously.” He answers, snatching the berries from you once more and putting them on the coffee table. You groan, but it’s short lived, as he drops the entire giant comforter overtop of you. He arranges it to wrap you inside of it, letting your head peek out. He tucks it under your thighs and tugs it closed across your chest.
“Thank you,” you mumble through a tight-lipped smile, finding him a little ridiculous, but also thoughtful and sweet. He plops down next to you, sitting similarly to you with his legs crossed, the box of strawberries between you. He opens them and offers you one by the stem, which you graciously accept.
You take a bite, quickly moving your hand under your chin to catch any of the chocolate cracking and falling. You moan a little at the taste, smiling at him when his eyes cut to yours.
He takes a bite of his own, his approach for avoiding a mess a little different than yours. His bite is so big that it takes him a while to chew through it, eventually speaking with some still in his mouth.
“I don’t know who the fuck decided these are supposed to be a romantic food.” He has a little bit of chocolate in his mustache and you can’t help but giggle, his tongue quickly darting out to lick it. “I’ve never had a more difficult time eating anything in my goddamn life.” He says, a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.
You’re so far under the influence and feeling so content from finally getting your hands on the sweets you were craving, all you can do is giggle in response. It’s the kind of giggle that lingers, when the joke is probably forgotten. He’s watching you with one raised brow as you cover your mouth and try to stop it.
He eventually joins you, unable to resist the contagious, almost delusional snickering coming from you under the giant blanket across from him. It’s a sweet, silly moment, and it feels effortless. You spend the next few minutes chewing and laughing and stealing glances at him in secret. The edible has you at a point where you’re not sure if you’re speaking out loud or thinking the words in your head. So then, the question you’re considering asking him just slips out.
“Why are you so tan in February?” You laugh, realizing it was a little forward of you to just ask out of nowhere. Luckily, you’re met with a stoned giggle of his own before he swallows and answers.
“I… went to a music festival in South America last week.” He says, eyes flicking up to yours, almost like he’s trying to see if you believe him.
“See anyone good?” You pry, your cheeks a little flushed the more you stare at him and catalog his mannerisms.
“Nobody you’d know.” He says, and you take him at his word. He smiles reassuringly, even though you don’t believe him, and it makes you giggle some more.
Eventually, it settles down and it’s just occasional quiet laughs cutting through the quiet of the room. He reaches for another strawberry and you realize it’s a little too quiet. You turn your head towards the tv, the last video having ended, and the countdown to the next one descending from 15. You squint your eyes a little to see what’s about to play next.
Rig Rundown: Greta Van Fleet [2021] is the title. But what really throws you is the thumbnail. The image is an older guy with coiffed silver hair, smiling and pointing at… Jake? He’s got a smug smile on his face, an arm on this other guy’s shoulder, and his hair down, which you think you’ve seen only once. He’s in a navy blue blazer with a hand on his hip, a guitar hanging across the front of his body.
“...Is that you?”
10…9…8…
“Huh?” Jake says as he looks up at you from the box of strawberries, his mouth full, a stem pinched between his two fingers. He sees where you’re looking and follows your gaze towards the TV as it counts down.
7…6…5…
“Oh, fuck–”
You quickly grab the remote control from the end of the coffee table, trying to find the OK button so it will start playing sooner. Jake panics, tossing the carton of berries onto the table with reckless abandon. He lunges towards you, so you hide the remote inside the comforter along with as much of yourself as you can.
“No!” He shouts playfully, grabbing at the blanket and trying to unravel you. He kneels on the edge of the chaise, knocking you over and trying to get to your hands and arms under the layers and layers of soft, fluffy blankets.
“You have… to let… me watch it!” You argue with a laugh, avoiding his grasp. You finally decide to raise the remote all the way over your head, almost over the edge of the couch. He leans forward over top of you, his weight balanced on his palm next to your head.
“Hand it over.” He says, attempting to be stern, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. A little jingle begins to play, and you can’t see the screen, but you’re positive the video is starting. You adjust the remote in your hand and crank the volume as he stares down at you. His eyes linger on your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. His stare is only broken when he realizes it’s getting louder. A riff starts to fill the room, a song you can’t say you’ve ever heard before, and he huffs, reaching for the remote again.
You’re a little distracted watching him on the screen over his shoulder, his long hair and unbuttoned shirt and the way his hands look wrapped around the neck of the guitar. He snatches the remote from you with an extra stretch of his arm and you giggle softly. “Oh my god…”
“Hey, hey! I’m John from Premier Guitar, and I’m here with Jake Kiszka from–”
Jake pauses the video, falling back into his seat on the couch. His head lolls to the side and he looks at you with a playful, annoyed glare.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why the hell are you doing guitar interviews?”
“I told you I’m a musician.” He says, a little short, lifting the remote to exit the video.
“No, no, wait!” You plead, reaching for his forearm to lower it. “Just let me watch, like, a minute.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “If you don't, I'll just go home and watch it anyway.”
He groans, mumbling a barely there “fine,” begrudgingly before pressing play and letting the guy continue.
“Greta Van Fleet! Jake, congratulations! Since I last saw you, you won a grammy! Or two grammys?”
“Yeah, one…”
“You have a fucking GRAMMY?” You exclaim as the video continues to play. You turn and look at him, but his eyes are on the screen, squinting with what you can tell is embarrassment.
“Are you gonna talk through your allotted one minute of watching or what?” He says, giving you a little warning look. You grin, turning your attention back to the screen. As the guy goes on and on, you realize this isn’t the part you want to watch.
“Can we skip past this guy? He talks a lot. This is not how I want to use my minute.” You bargain, and he just offers you the remote silently with a smirk.
You fast forward a little until you see he’s about to play. It’s a few seconds of him playing something else you’ve never heard, and then he speaks.
“It’s hotter, it’s a bit hotter…”
You smirk with wide eyes, looking at him in your peripherals.
“Shut up.” He says, closing his eyes like he simply can’t watch any more. You laugh at his dramatics, and when he hears it he can’t help but crack a smile. His cheeks are rosy and you look back at the screen, eyes trying to decide on what part of him to land on.
“This guy…” You start, shaking your head a little.
“He’s a bit much.” Jake says, looking over at you with a half smile.
“He’s so sweaty!” You add, laughing through your words.
He lets you watch for more than a minute. He makes a few comments, scoffing at himself, even running his hand over his face a few times. You can tell it’s a little painful for him, but you’re in your glory. You reach for another strawberry as you look over at his embarrassed face.
“So this is why you’re never here…” you say, turning the volume down a little. “And the music festival…”
“Yep. That would be the reason.” He says softly, sniffing a little as he watches. You turn to look at him and his eyes flick up to yours, his gaze traveling straight to your lips. There's a flicker in his eyes, and you hardly comprehend that his hand is moving towards your face. You feel his thumb swipe softly against your bottom lip, a tiny smear of chocolate on the tip of his digit. Your tongue immediately licks over the place his thumb was, tasting the sugary sweetness of the chocolate that was once there. He places his thumb between his lips, licking the chocolate from his own finger, while his eyes stay locked on yours.
“Somehow, it’s even sweeter.” he breathes letting his hand drop from his lips. He settles back into the couch cushions resting his head on his hand as he looks at you. You can hardly pull your eyes away from his as your heart races in your chest, the video in the background long forgotten.
“Tell me why you’re alone on Valentine’s day…” he murmurs, his pink lips barely parting to let the words escape.
“You tell me why you are…” you counter, blinking slowly as you stare at him.
He bites his lips together as he tosses around the words in his head. He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he starts to speak. “Well, to be honest… I’ve had trouble finding someone that can live with the burden of my lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask of someone. ”
“Burden?” you ask.
“Yeah, that’s the word that always gets thrown around when things go south. And they’re not wrong I suppose. I know that I’m gone more than I’m home. Even you know that.” He says with a humorless chuckle. “Half the time I don’t know the next time that I’ll be home and get to sleep in my own bed. So naturally that sort of…uncertainty doesn’t lend well to relationships. Of any kind really…” he pauses, letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to find, let alone keep, any type of meaningful connection… Especially when I’m halfway around the world. But I swear it’s not for lack of trying on my end. It’s just one of those things that comes with the job whether you want it or not.”
You nod your head slowly, feeling your heart breaking for him. If you weren’t sure before, you are positive now that he is just a little more lonely than he is willing to let on.
“I wasn’t even supposed to be here now. We’re supposed to be traveling to New York right now. Though, everything happens for a reason I guess.” he says, offering you a little smirk as he brushes his hand over top of yours. “Now, your turn. Tell me why such an intriguing woman is all alone on the most romantic day of the year…”
You pull the fluffy blanket up a little further onto your lap, toying with the hem as you look up at him. “I haven’t really dated anyone since I moved here. I thought I would but, I just…haven’t. I thought that once I was settled into a good routine at work I could spend a little more time meeting people, but every time I go out I’m suddenly surrounded by twenty other girls who are by modern standards perfect, and I just don’t even stand a chance against them, you know?” you pause, letting your fingers roll over the stitching on the edge of the duvet. “I don’t look like them, and I never will. So I just work a lot, hang out with my friends when I can, and have zero expectations of ever being the person that is going to stand out in a crowd like that.”
You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, suddenly feeling stupid for telling this stranger your secrets.
“You couldn't be more wrong.” he breathes, letting his arm fall against the back of the couch. There’s an air of demand in his voice as he speaks. His hand swipes the hair away from your face, letting his fingers brush your jawline. “You’re prettier than all of them. And smarter, and funnier. They have nothing on you. I’d pick you…In a crowd.”
“You don’t have to just say that to try and make me feel better. It’s okay, really.” you say dismissively.
“I’m not just saying that, Y/N. I mean it. You’re so pretty, and you’re so quick witted, and you listen to me talk about stuff no one else cares about...Shit, I can’t think of one person I know that would have sat through even the first video, let alone let me talk through the entire thing. I’m having one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, with you.” he urges, settling his hand loosely on the curve of your neck. His skin is warm against yours, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he likely sprayed on his wrist this morning as it wafts towards your nose.
You laugh softly, suddenly feeling shy as he compliments you. You lean into him without even noticing, your eyes closing as you breathe him in. The cushion dips as he leans towards you, meeting you where you were and pressing his lips to yours almost tentatively. His fingers grip into your neck as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip. If the gummy didn’t already have you feeling floaty, you were sure you’d be feeling it now. He pulls away from you and a small whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of his warmth. His hand slides down your neck and over your shoulder, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. With his other hand, he picks up the remote and hits pause, not wanting the video to carry on in the background of what you think is about to be another kiss.
“C’mere…” he growls, holding a hand out to you. You tuck your feet underneath yourself in an attempt to push up onto your knees, feeling slightly off-kilter. You grip his hand a little tighter as you reach for his shoulder, moving slowly until you’re straddling his lap. He positions your legs on either side of him, making sure you’re comfortable, and taking the opportunity to run his hands over your thighs. You rest your hands on his chest for some stability, your head in the clouds. His hands immediately find their way back to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in and kisses you again,though this time there is a little more urgency behind it. You slide your hands up and over his shoulders, letting your fingers weave into his hair, grabbing a handful of the chestnut locks and gripping it in your fists. He tilts his head back slightly in response.
“Oh, fuck.” he groans. He looks at you with his head tilted back, his lids heavy, a barely-there crooked smile on his face. He’s such a sight with his dark eyes and pink lips, you think you might burst on the spot. You know you need to kiss him again, but you also want to hear him moan and curse again, and his exposed throat is calling to you.
Leaning down, you place a kiss to his jaw, the skin soft and warm. You feel like you’re in the passenger seat as someone else, a bolder and less inhibited version of yourself, calls the shots. One minute, you’re thinking about how the textured skin of his throat feels against your cheek, then then the next, you’re kissing and licking at it without a second thought. You feel his skin buzz under your lips as he whines, the taste of his skin and cologne mixed together so good you’re certain you’ll never be able to forget it.
You feel yourself melting into him, your tongue pulling the delicate skin over his clavicle into your mouth as you suck and bite softly without any consideration for the fact that he probably shouldn’t be covered in love bites. When you lift your head, he’s got his own resting on the back of the couch, his eyes closed, his brows knitted together as you shower him in searing kisses.
Sitting up, you lean over him again for another kiss, this time taking it upon yourself to deepen it, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip as you lace your hands in his hair again, taking a bit of control. You feel him shudder beneath you, his hips bucking up in response. His tongue slides into your mouth and you can taste the lingering flavor of the tequila he was no doubt drinking prior to your arrival mixed with a hint of chocolate. His hands travel down your body, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt. He stops as his hands wrap around your waist, his thumbs swiping over your skin. You lean into his grip, feeling him pull you down onto his groin as his teeth nip at your lips now.
You know that both of you are still feeling the effects of the gummy and there isn’t a shred of inhibition between the two of you. You release your grip on his hair and let your hands trail down the open buttons of his shirt, feeling the chest you’ve stared at all night beneath your fingertips. You slide them further down, letting your fingers toy with the remaining buttons, waiting to see if he will stop you, but when he doesn’t, you finish the job and push his shirt open completely. A silver necklace rests between his pecs, and you smile recognizing the coin as one of the artifacts you saw in one of the videos from earlier in the night.
His mouth is like velvet on yours and you can’t help but to want more of him. You roll your hips against him, feeling him growing beneath you and spurring you on even more. Another groan leaves his mouth, his lips vibrating on yours. His hands move up a little further, his thumbs just dusting the underside of your bralette. You can tell he’s doing his best to be respectful, but you simply cannot wait another second to feel his hands on your body.
You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it to the side. He swallows thickly as his eyes roam over you, his lips parting as he looks you over. His mind is struggling to keep up with the pace things are moving. He hums in approval as he runs a calloused fingertip over your navel, which pulls a lazy smile from you. Jake chuckles in response, now moving his hands to rest at your shoulders before pulling you down closer to him so he can press a wet kiss to your collarbone. His lips trail down your skin until they reach the fullness of your chest, and with his eyes now locked on yours, he sucks a hot, audible kiss into the rounded skin.
Your eyes flutter closed as his tongue swipes against your skin, simultaneously feeling his fingers pull the bralette straps down over your shoulders. With the extra support gone the cups fall slightly, revealing a little more of your chest to him. You grab his hands and pull them to your chest, giving him the green light to take things a little further.
“God, you’re stunning.” he mumbles breathlessly, gripping into your tits as you roll your hips against him. You lean forward to press your lips to his again, licking into his mouth as his hands move to circle around your back, resting just at the base of your back. He presses you closer as you roll into him again, this time feeling his fully hard cock pressed against your core. He hooks a finger into one side of your bralette, freeing your nipple. He leans forward and takes into his mouth, sucking softly. You groan at the feeling, a breath of air leaving his mouth as you drag across the length of him. He pulls you closer, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud as mewls fall from your lips. You usually aren’t as affected by something so routine in foreplay, but all of your senses are heightened and you think you could probably cum from the feeling of his mouth spoiling you with kisses and bites combined with how hard he is between your thighs.
He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still glassy and blown out. “I promise this isn’t what I intended when I invited you over...” he breathes, his thumbs swiping against your back as he licks his lips, his blinks slow and lazy.
“I know…” you answer with a bashful smile and lidded eyes, staring into his brown irises. “But it feels too good to stop.”
“Yeah,” he says, more of a breath than a word. “I want you so fucking bad right now.” he adds, a smirk pulling across his lips as he makes the move to roll you to your back on the chaise of the couch. You're giggling as he’s now hovering over you, similarly to how he was earlier, only this time you know he’s going to kiss you and you don’t have to wish for it. He makes quick work of his shirt, pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it to the other side of the room. Your head is positively spinning, the room around you seems like a blur and the only thing in focus is him.
He runs a finger over your chest, hooking into the fabric of your bralette. “Take this off for me, sweetheart. Show me.” he mumbles, his lazy eyes slowly raking over every inch of you, needing more.
You practically burst into flames, rushing to pull the fabric over your head. Now completely exposed to him, his eyes flick down to your chest as he bites his lips together. He pulls back again, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down for some relief. He swallows harshly, letting his eyes meet yours again. You reach your hand up and hook it around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You press your lips to his and he lowers himself down to his elbows, deepening the kiss as his body lays on top of yours.
You let your free hand circle around his back, your fingers following the contours of his waist, dipping down to his spine as you run the length of his back. He groans at the feeling of your nails against his skin, and you find yourself wondering if he’s usually this vocal or if the high he’s experiencing has lowered his guard.
He shoots up, turning his head around to look at the TV, muttering something under his breath as he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch. He exits the video and you giggle, realizing it was paused on a still of his brother, you assume, in the middle of talking with his hands, sitting behind a keyboard. He tosses the remote to the coffee table, leaning back down over you with a smirk. “Sorry. I just think three’s a crowd.” he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.
He pulls away from your lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, and over your sternum, stopping just shy of the top of your yoga pants. His eyes flick up to yours, and you offer him a shy nod, silently thanking yourself for that “everything” shower this morning.
He kisses your stomach one more time before curling his fingers beneath the hem, sliding them slowly over your hips and down your legs before letting them fall softly to the floor. You lay there in just your panties, and you think he may notice that you’re feeling exposed as he quickly stands to kick off his pants. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the heavy outline of his dick, visible and straining against the black fabric of his boxers.
His eyes flick to yours but you can’t seem to take your eyes off of the tan line just above the elastic of his boxers, wanting more than anything to peel the black fabric from his hips. He kneels onto the chaise, settling himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. A few strands of his hair hang around his face, and his dark brown eyes are growing darker by the second. You bring your hand up to his stomach, letting your fingers sneak beneath the elastic of his boxers, sliding across the front of his waist causing him to clench up his stomach with a smile.
“You ticklish?” you murmur, continuing to slide your fingers across his waistband.
He drops his head to look at your hand in his boxers before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Not ticklish, just…sensitive…” he growls. You can tell that the gummy has made him a little more responsive to touch than he normally is.
His hips jolt forward on their own accord and you feel the brush of his dick against your fingers. He sucks in a harsh breath at the contact, his eyes connecting with yours. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you push your hand further inside, wrapping softly around his hardened length. A hiss leaves his mouth and he starts to breathe a little heavier as you squeeze around him. You slide your hand up and around the tip, rounding off at the end before sliding back down, watching his eyes flutter closed for the slightest second.
“Fuck, wait…” he breathes, pulling back and taking a second to compose himself. He sits up a little more, hooking his fingers into your thong and pulling it swiftly down your legs. His eyes flick up towards the couch then back down the length of the chaise, “Move down a little for me, baby. Rest your feet on the floor. ”
You quickly push yourself further down on the couch, letting your knees hang over the edge of the chaise until your feet meet the rug on the floor. He drops to his knees at the end of the chaise, running his warm hands up the length of your thighs. He kisses the inside of your thigh, humming in appreciation for the position he’d found himself in.
He rests both of his hands on your hips, and as you look down at him, you see a faint silver scar up the length of his left arm. You wrap your hand around his forearm, feeling his veins pulsing against your palm.
His eyes meet yours as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds, hot and slow as you throw your head back into the couch cushion. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin pulling you closer as his lips suction over your clit. His tongue swipes against you again, flatter and with more pressure as you writhe beneath him.
“Fuck…” he curses, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. “Had I known what I was missing…” he pauses to lick at you again. “I would have pulled you across the street months ago. You taste like heaven.”
You feel as if you’re floating on a cloud as you melt into his comforter, the warmth from the fireplace radiating across the room. A soft gasp falls from your lips as he laps at you, no urgency or strategy behind his method. He seems to just be enjoying himself, his eyes lifting to look at you, a little lazy, a little glassy. You shift underneath him slightly, but he’s not deterred. His mouth doesn’t leave you for even a moment, like you’re his only source of vitality in this very moment.
You whine when you feel his tongue press to your entrance, and you feel the smile that pulls across his lips. Your hips buck up towards him, his nose brushing over your clit, sending you quickly towards a place you’re not quite ready to be yet. His tongue finds you again, pressing forward this time and entering just for a second before pulling back out. His lips suction over you again, and he shakes his head side to side, taking you to that place whether you’re ready or not.
“Jake…” you whine, sliding your hands into his hair.
“Mmm?” he hums into you, his eyes slowly opening to find yours, heavy with lust.
“More…” you beg, shuddering the slightest bit as you see how dark his eyes have become.
He gives you one more slow, long lap of his tongue, like he’s savoring it and committing the taste of you to memory. He stands from where he was kneeling and taps your thigh gently, wordlessly telling you to shift back up on the chaise. You scoot backwards and he follows, nestling himself between your legs, propped up on his palm. With the hand he isn’t using for balance, he frees himself from his briefs. He strokes himself once, but then lets himself go and you feel him against you, his cock heavy and hard, landing on the inside of your thigh with the softest sound. He pulls back slightly and when he pushes his hips forward again, he’s sliding through your folds, slick and lewd. It makes your cheeks hot.
“You’re so fucking wet…” he grunts, his voice strained like he’s in pain. “Just wanna feel you for a second…”
He lowers himself to bury his face in your hair, his breath hot as he pants, gently rutting his hips against you, his thrusts a little uncoordinated and desperate.
“Everything’s just so fucking sensitive.” he says, his now boyish voice cracking as it’s muffled by the pillow behind your head. He wraps his arms tightly around you and under you, like he’s worried you’re about to float away. “Feels so good.”
With a deep breath he releases you, sliding his hand down to fist his base. As he presses the tip to your entrance his eyes lock on yours, wordlessly asking if you’re ready, and when you nod he starts to press forward. His eyes flick down to your center, watching as he slides into you. The stretch is noticeable, but you welcome it. You want it. His eyes flutter closed for just a second and you feel him stop his movement, not pressing into you fully.
“Fuck, give me a second.” he pants, his chest heaving.
You feel him try to slide in a little more, but again he’s holding back.
“I think– I think you’re gonna have to take the reins here.” he admits.
“What do you mean…”
“If I move a single inch more I won’t–” he pauses, shaking his head as he blows out a breath. “I just need you to be on top.”
His eyes are pleading, searching yours, and you can’t possibly fathom the idea of ever denying him.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” he offers, and you can’t help but give him a little smirk, nodding. He withdraws and gives you a little space to get up, ditching his underwear before taking your place. You gingerly climb over him, taking a moment to brush one of the strands of hair that frames his face out of the way. He gives you a soft, lazy smile, his eyes barely open as he welcomes your gentle touch.
His hand reaches between the two of you as he lines himself up, and you waste no time lowering yourself onto him, savoring how full he makes you feel. Intending to fly right out of the gates you lift your hips again, but he slowly settles you down, a soft hum rumbling through him.
“That’s it. Yeah… Lean back for me?” he coaches, and you do as he asks without a second thought. His warm hand brushes down your abdomen until his thumb makes contact with your clit to rub gentle circles while his lidded eyes are open just a sliver to stare intently at where your bodies are meeting. His pink lips are parted slightly, his breathing shallow. You can’t help the wanton moan that escapes your throat at the sight paired with his careful touch.
“Rest your hands on my knees. I won’t let you fall.” he instructs, letting his free hand slide up your thigh. You do as he says, leaning back onto his knees, allowing you to take him a little deeper. “Just like that, baby. Fuck…”
You roll your hips in figure eights, feeling him brush against that sensitive place inside you, eliciting a whine from your chest.
“Yeah? Right there?” he asks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You stay just like that. Let me take over.”
He brings his foot up to rest on the cushion, giving himself a little more leverage. His hand firmly grips into your hip as he forcefully flicks his hips and fucks up into you. You gasp as he hits that spot, like he knew where it was the whole time. His thumb never relenting in its work on your clit.
“Yeah, damn. That’s it isn’t it, sweetheart? You feel so good like this... You just keep squeezin’ me, just like that.”
The force of his thrusts cause his silver chain to work its way up his body and into the crook of his neck. Your attention is quickly drawn to the metal coins rattling together with each thrust.
“M’gonna cum…” you warn him so he can decide whether or not to back off, but he just groans and keeps his motions steady. You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way you fall forward, gasping for breath. Steadying yourself with weak arms, you grasp at the plush comforter underneath him.
“Fuck me that’s tight,” he groans. “Fuck.” He grabs your wrists on either side of his head for leverage, thrusting up into you so hard you see stars. It’s like your vision goes white as your chest heaves and you meet your end, crying out a desperate wail of his name.
“Slow down for me now, baby.” he coos as you tremble and try to catch your breath. You nod, taking all of him slowly with each roll of your hips. Looking down at him, you can tell he’s struggling to keep it together. Something about the way he’s dewy with sweat, his chest rising and falling, his hair sticking to his face… It makes your head spin. You watch his stoned eyes rolling back each time you take him so deeply the head of his cock brushes against the deepest part of you and it’s almost too much to bear.
He grips your hips suddenly, inhaling sharply. You freeze, knowing what he’s getting at, and you feel him twitch inside you. His brow is knitted up in concentration and a whine leaves his perfect, heart-shaped lips.
“Goddamn… you feel too good. I can’t– I can’t hold it, fuck…” he babbles, his voice pitched higher than you’ve heard it all night. Before you can say a word, he continues on.
“Can I do it inside? Please, baby, can I? Pl– oh, god, please? Wanna cum inside you so bad, so fucking bad… Can I? Baby–”
“Do it.” you urge, desperate to give him anything he wants in this very moment.
“Yeah?” he gasps.
“Yeah, do it. Please. I need it…” you whine, squeezing him with everything you have one last time.
“Oh fuck…” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you down and holds you in place as he pumps into you. “God damn, fuck me…” he cries out, grunting with each pulse inside you. His brows are furrowed and his eyes screwed shut before finally letting out a deep breath and slowing his hips.
His chest is heaving and a sheen of sweat covers his tanned skin. His hand moves from your hips, swiping the sweaty hair from his forehead. You lift to your knees, knowing exactly why his eyes are still trained on the place the two of you meet. He wants to see his work.
As you lift up, you feel his release start to stream out of you and back down onto his cock. A huff of pride leaves his chest, his tongue swiping out over his bottom lip before biting it between his teeth.
“Should we clean up?” he asks, watching the hot white streams drip down to his base.
“I’m working on it...” you say softly, lifting off of him completely and dropping to your knees. You plant your hands on either side of his hips, arching your back and pressing your ass into the air as you lower your mouth over his cum covered cock.
“Fuck…” he groans, watching your lips slide down his length.
Closing your lips over his base, you take him as far into your throat as you can, sucking his release from his skin as you work your way up, dragging your tongue over his every inch. You can feel him growing hard again as you reach the tip, lapping and circling your tongue around the sensitive skin. You drop down to his base again, but this time you feel his hand grip into your hair, holding you there as his hips jerk forward, propelling him further down your throat.
“Look at me.” he demands, and you flick your watery eyes up to meet his.
You gag around him and he releases your hair, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “Mmm…Yeah, fuck. We’re gonna revisit this...” he says, eyes fixed on you as you pull off of him with a pop. “Just needed to see how pretty you look with my cock down your throat.”
You can’t stop the tiny gasp that escapes you as you shoot him a playfully shocked grin. You blink once, raising your brows.
“We have a lot to revisit. Where did that come from?” You ask through a laugh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He chuckles, handing you your shirt.
“Sorry, sorry. The edible’s wearing off.” He says with a smirk, attempting to get himself off the couch. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Jake shows you to the bathroom, then disappears into his bedroom while you freshen up. When you emerge, re-dressed and significantly less sticky, he hears your footsteps and comes out to meet you in the hallway. The two of you smile at each other, feeling the THC and endorphins and feelings starting to settle like you’re standing in a snowglobe.
“I'm glad you came over. Sorry I Jake’d you for a few hours.” He says softly, and there’s some jingling coming from his bedroom, which is probably Davy annoyed that you’re still lingering in his house. Jake hears it, reaching behind him to close his bedroom door without looking away from you.
“Jake’d me? Please don’t tell me that’s what you call–”
“NO, no, no. Oh, no. Getting ‘Jake’d’ is what my family calls it when I corner one of them into talking to me for an extended period of time about something they don’t really care about in excruciating detail.” He explains like he’s reading the definition from a textbook, a charming smile on his face. He seems a little embarrassed but at the same time, he sees the humor in it.
“Well I had a really great time.” you answer genuinely, pushing your hair behind your ear. “You can Jake me whenever you want.” You joke, a laugh bubbling out of you. You wiggle your eyebrows at him playfully and it coaxes a short, loud laugh out of him as well.
“I just might take you up on that.” He says, and there’s a rosy tint to his cheeks even in the dim lighting of the hallway.
“You know where to find me...”
As if he can tell you’re about to try and take your leave, he starts to walk past you and down the stairs.
“...Have you ever watched those videos where they clean out old barns?”
–
The two of you ended up curled together on the chaise, tucked under his big comfy blanket. The exhaustion hits you all at once, and about 10 minutes in, you slip into a deep sleep, your head tucked into his shoulder, his arm around you, his hand gently scratching your scalp.
Hours later, you wake up unsure where you are for a moment. As you shift a little, you feel there’s a heavy weight against you, which you soon realize is Jake’s leg. You’re no longer tucked underneath the giant duvet, a little sweaty, as Jake is asleep on his back. His hand is tucked into his sweatpants resting on his upper thigh, and you have to peel your eyes away once you spot the first sign of him half hard and half asleep. You can see his bold tan line and the slightest bit of hair through the gap he’s created. Sitting up, you try to search for a clock somewhere in the room or even your phone. Feeling around the chaise under you, you don’t find it. You look over on the other side of Jake hoping it’s there, but the only thing you find there is little Davy, curled into a ball and pressed against Jake’s back.
Jake seems to feel you moving around and it wakes him, eliciting a raspy hum from his chest. He pulls you back in towards him, your back to his chest, and you feel him shaking his head against your shoulder.
“Morning,” you say through a breathy laugh, but at the sound of your voice, you hear the jingle of Davy’s collar and the tippy-taps of his feet as he runs as far away from you as humanly possible.
“Too early.” He grumbles, reaching blindly over his head to feel around for the curtains. When he doesn’t find them, he groans and gets up, tugging them closed tight. “Fuck. Slept with my contacts in.” He says, standing over you and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretches his arms over his head, his tanline peeking out again, and you squeeze your eyes closed trying to keep your head on straight. He sighs deeply before sliding back onto the couch with you, pulling you tight to him. The two of you fall back asleep soon after, the only sound you hear is the clinking of Davy’s collar tag against his bowl and some quiet crunching.
–
When you wake again it’s from the feeling of Jake’s fingers moving against your hip. You stretch your legs out along the chaise, feeling the brush of his sweatpants against your legs. You roll your body towards him letting out a yawn. His eyes open, a little red from the dryness of sleeping with his contacts in, but as they fully open you’re once again pulled in by the dark brown irises.
“Still too early?” you whisper, your morning voice thick with sleep.
“Mmm, a bit, but I should probably get up. I’m sure my phone is just completely blown up by this point.” he groans, stretching his own legs out. “You sleep okay? We should’ve just moved to the bed earlier.”
“Actually this couch is pretty comfy, no complaints from me.” you smile, watching a grin spread across his own face.
“Speaking of complaints, your snoring…” he trails off.
“I don’t snore!” you admonish, playfully pushing off of his warm chest.
“No, you don’t. I’m just kidding. You are warm though, but that’s not a complaint.” he growls, tossing the comforter off of both of you. He pushes himself up off of the couch, his sweatpants dangerously low on his hips. “Coffee? You drink coffee?” he asks, searching for his phone on the coffee table. “Or I can order something to the house, though there’s really only one good place that deliv–”
You send him a knowing look and he stops himself.
“But you know that already because you live across the street.” he sighs. “So, coffee?”
“Coffee’s good.” you answer, looking for your own phone.
“How do you like it? Sugar? Milk? I don’t know what I have but–”
“Just sugar is fine…” you smirk.
He leans over the coffee table to grab his phone, stealing a kiss on his descent.
“Hey!” you laugh.
“You said just sugar…” he grins, swiping his phone and disappearing into his kitchen.
You stifle back the smile on your lips, and a morning you thought might be slightly awkward, feels like you’ve done it a million times. You pull on your cardigan, and run your fingers through your hair, straightening up the couch cushions, and repositioning the pillows. You’re finishing folding up his comforter as he walks into the room.
“Ahh, you didn’t have to do that.” he says, placing your mug on the coffee table.
“No trouble, just cleaning up our mess.” you smile, tossing the folded comforter down onto the couch.
“You seem to be rather good at that...” he smirks into his coffee mug.
Your cheeks grow hot as you recall what he is referring to. You grab your mug from the table and take a few sips, finding that somehow it’s made exactly how you like it.
You spot your keys under the coffee table, bending to grab them. “There they are. Always getting away from me.”
He chuckles as he takes his normal seat on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. You stare at him, just enjoying his coffee on his couch and you want to ask him if you can see him again, but you don’t. You think back to what he told you last night, and decide against it.
You place your empty mug on the table, and bite your lips together before looking at him. “Thank you– for the coffee, and everything. It was nice.”
“Yeah, it was nice, wasn’t it? Same time next year?” he jokes, offering you a wink.
“Oh yeah, I thought that was a given…” you say through a laugh, “I mean, if you’re home of course.”
You grab your phone and keys from the coffee table and stand, ready to make your way towards the front door. He joins you in standing, the mug still clasped in his hand.
“Yeah, you just never know, ya know? I mean, maybe we don’t even have to wait that long…” he laughs, taking another sip of his coffee with a shrug.
“Yeah, I mean, you have my number…” You smile, twisting the front door knob.
“That I do. I definitely do.” he pauses, as you pull the door open. “Hey wait, let me walk you home.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, it’s just right there…” you say nervously.
“No, really. I want to. Just give me a sec.” he says, setting his mug on the entry table and rushing to grab a hoodie from his coat rack. He slides on a pair of dirty white Vans that have definitely seen better days, and opens the door further. “Alright, you ready?”
The two of you make your way through his front yard, giggling back and forth all the way to your front door as he quizzes you about the videos you watched last night. As you step up to your front porch mat you pull your keys from your cardigan pocket and start to unlock the door.
“Thanks for walking me home. You’re such a gentleman…” you say, feigning romance. As you peek over his shoulder you see Davy sitting in the window, keeping a close eye on Jake.
“Well of course, I couldn’t miss out on my kiss…” he smiles, a little dimple forming in his cheek.
“What kiss…” you press, all the while secretly hoping for just one more.
He grabs your waist and pulls you close to him, pressing his cold lips to yours. You can taste the remnants of coffee on his tongue, and as he pulls away his lips linger just a second longer.
A hum leaves his lips as he steps back. “That kiss.” He says, stepping backwards off of your porch, taking a few steps before turning to head back to his house. As you step inside your front door you look over your shoulder at the same time as he does, throwing his hand up from inside his hoodie pocket to offer you a two finger wave.
Your heart is beating out of your chest as you close the door behind you, and you feel like positively melting into the ground over the night you just shared with Jake. As you peek out the window you see Davy gone from his patrol post, and you smile knowing he’s definitely happy to have Jake all to himself again.
—
As you scrub away the remnants of the night before, you can’t help but to remember the way his hands felt as they moved across your body. So warm and so intentional, even in his intoxicated state. You wonder if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and if he’s thinking about it just as much as you are. You think back to every other Valentine’s day you’ve ever had, and not a single one holding a candle to the night you just spent across the street with your neighbor.
You hear your phone buzz on the bathroom counter as you turn the shower off, wrapping yourself in a towel as you pick it up from the countertop. Your heart leaps in your chest as you see his name flash across your screen.
Jake - Neighbor
12:04pm: Probably should have watched the first one before the sequel. 😉
12:04pm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWDf_CEkpoU&t=1382s
You quickly hit the link, watching as it directs you to youtube, pulling up yet another Rig Rundown video. This one is much older than the one you saw last night, and as you lean against the bathroom counter the intro music starts to play. You’re met with a much younger looking version of Jake, in a sweater and a bucket hat, looking bright and eager to talk about his craft.
You quickly head towards your kitchen, pulling your own stash of gummies from your pantry. You pluck one of the small black bags from the basket and snap a photo as you pull up your texts and attach it to a message with a giggle.
You
12:10pm: Should I take one of these before I watch it?
12:10pm: By the way, love the bucket hat… 😉
You make your way back to your bedroom, dressing yourself in lounge clothes, knowing you’ll probably spend the rest of the day relaxing and catching up on your shows. Satisfied with your outfit you grab your phone to check for his response, only to be met with an empty screen. You sigh and make your way to the living room, flopping down onto your couch with your leftover take out from the night before, pressing play on the TV.
You try not to think about the man across the street and what he’s probably doing. You know he must be into something since he has yet to respond to your message. That or he has no intention of ever speaking to you again.
Feeling frustrated that it’s probably the latter, you toss your phone to the other side of the couch, catching a glance out your window. Your eyes snap to his driveway, seeing another car taking up the space next to his. Who the hell is at his house?
You stand up and make your way over to the window, taking a closer look at the white Jeep parked next to his car. You’ve never noticed it before…Or have you? You start to wrack your brain for the times you’ve even seen another car at his house, but you come up short. Never really caring before today.
You sit back down on the couch and start the next episode of your show, feeling the soreness from the prior night's activities starting to settle into your muscles. You grab a throw blanket and your favorite pillow and snuggle down into the couch cushions, ready to nap away your troubles, and hoping to wake up to a new message in your inbox.
A knock on the door startles you awake. You grab your phone and see that you’ve slept quite a few hours, and it’s now nearly 6:00pm.
You stand up and run your hands through your hair to combat the bedhead, clearing your throat as you reach for the door knob. Standing on the other side of your door is Jake, looking like he is fresh from the shower, as his damp hair lays long over his shoulders. You can smell his body wash wafting off of him and you practically melt into the door frame.
“Did I wake you up? Did you actually take that gummy?” he laughs, pulling his hands from his pockets.
“Oh, no. I didn’t. I just… I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” you blush, trying to play it cool, and not like you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left this morning.
“Sorry I forgot to respond. My brother came over and I couldn’t get him to leave.” he laughs.
His brother.
“Oh, it’s no problem. I was in and out of sleep all day anyways.” you lie.
“So…” he pauses, taking a breath as he reaches into his pocket. “I may have acquired something a bit better than what we had last night.” he says holding a small black bag in his palm.
“I don’t know, I kind of liked what we had last night.” you quip, a little smirk on your lips.
“Mhmm, I know you did.” he smiles, sliding his hands back into his trouser pockets.
“I don’t know if you had plans tonight or anything…” he trails off, kicking his foot against your doormat. “But I was thinking about watching this video I saw about how to make a barbecue smoker out of a filing cabinet. Really riveting stuff…”
His big brown eyes flash up to yours in question and you feel that flame in your chest reignite. You’re already eager at the thought of spending another night like last night. You knew right then that it wouldn’t matter if it was a filing cabinet smoker or a centuries old shipwreck, there was suddenly nothing more important than watching whatever it may be, with him. So with a shy smile, and the tap of your fingers against your chin you meet his gaze.
“You know, I really have been meaning to look into that…”
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Helloooo your recs give me life. You’ve probably done this before, but any recommendations for fics that include a brutally pining Derek and oblivious Stiles? Ideally canon-verse but aus are also loved. Thanks in advance!!
I'm sure I have, but I love pining in all fics. So I'm happy to make a million lists of it.
Fun by Halevetica
(1/1 I 3,889 I Teen)
Stiles convinces Derek to go to the annual Beacon Hills bonfire with him, with the promise of fun. What he gets instead are a lot of assumptions that he and Stiles are dating, and Stiles' too-eager dismissals, which are decidedly NOT fun for Derek.
Game On by stilinskisparkles
(1/1 I 6,391 I Teen)
Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.
Written in the Stars by Quixoticity
(6/6 I 26,586 I Mature)
Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He's got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.
He's also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.
He likes his life, but he's waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren't great but hey, Derek's a lucky guy. He has faith.
He can't believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There's just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.
Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell
(5/5 I 35,458 I Mature)
Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.
too busy being yours to fall for somebody new by whiry
(12/12 I 64,278 I Teen)
Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.
All the Weird Kids (Know How to Take it Slow) by Ionaonie
(26/26 I 112,477 I General)
Stiles never thought being part of a werewolf Pack would end up being so normal. Even being around Derek had a degree of normality about it. Even if he was still an overbearing jerk most of the time.
When it all comes crumbling down by Littleredridinghunter
(18/18 I 216,191 I Not Rated)
Stiles is recovering from the Nogitsune. Erica is the only one that is really there for him, Scott's too busy rekindling his relationship with Allison and Stiles feels like he's falling apart.
When a near-miss with a kelpie results in an encounter that he could never have predicted, Stiles begins to think his life might be getting back on track.
He's wrong.
Stiles' life is so messed up he can't even begin to explain it, maybe it's time for him to finally do something for himself and get out of Beacon Hills. But where will that path lead?
With Stiles involved, no doubt danger and death won't be far behind.
AND
@the-diggler and @adventures-in-mangaland suggested this one!
Safety in Silence by Survivah
(5/5 I 66,901 I Mature)
It's perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn't want to be Derek's soulmate.
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Debriefing *part 1* (Knight Anakin x PadawanFemReader)
Summary: After a successful undercover mission, you want to properly thank General Skywalker…too bad he’s in a debriefing with your master. Oh, well, better keep quiet.
Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Blowjob and Ani’s big dick. Padawan reader is of age.
Notes: Hope you also enjoy part 2 and part 3!
“Hello, Anakin. I take it since I’m hearing from you that the undercover mission was a success?”
“You would be correct, master. We were able to…”
You had the thought earlier today. It was exciting and thrilling…naughty and oh so very wrong. The type you really shouldn’t act on, but the desire burns so brightly that it can’t be ignored. So, when you heard the voices coming from the next room, you knew the perfect opportunity had finally arisen.
With your mind set and your wits about you, you discreetly slipped inside…making sure to stay out of holo Obi-Wan’s view.
The moment Anakin locked eyes with you he knew something was up. The mischievous expression you wore practically said it all.
“And how was my padawan? I hope she wasn’t too much trouble for you,”, your master asked jokingly.
“Actually, she…” Anakin began to say, but trailed off as he saw you shake your head and press a finger to your lips.
‘I’m not even here.’ You sent through your newly formed bond.
Ani shot you a leery look, but decided to play along. “Was no trouble at all, perfect, little angel,” he replied with a small smirk.
“Excellent. Now about the…”
Tuning out the remainder of the conversation, you eased yourself down onto all fours…crawling underneath the console he was seated at.
It was now or never. Burying your face into his crotch, you breathed in his heavenly scent. A mix of cinnamon and musk, that made your skin grow hot and excitement build between your legs.
Instantly you could feel Anakin stiffen up, and in more ways than one. ‘Angel, what do you think you’re-’
You gave him a small nip. ‘Showing my appreciation for a job well done. Enjoy and, remember, I’m not even here.’
Thinking he would be furious; you were surprised when Ani pulled down his pants. Just enough to free his thick, hard cock. ‘Fine, but you better not make a sound…or else you’ll get it later.’
You tried your best to stifle a moan at the sight of it. ‘Yes, general.’
Happily, you dove in. Running your tongue up and down his thighs, you gave the sensitive skin a gentle bite here and there. A low hiss could be heard in the back of your mind.
Slowly and torturously, you kissed your way up from the base of his shaft. Giving his red, hot tip a few teasing licks when you reached the top. The sounds of his groans flooding the bond.
Smiling, you lazily sucked on his head. Before taking into your mouth as much of his impressive length as you possibly could. Trying your very best not to gag, you bobbed your head up and down. Loving the noises that filled your head.
You felt his organic hand come to rest on the back of your neck, fingers lacing through your hair. ‘Come on, little one; I know you can do better than that.’ And pushed himself the rest of the way in.
This time you gagged slightly as he thrust in and out. The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.
‘Feel so good, sweetheart. So perfect.’
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You forced yourself to remain still for him as he picked up speed. How you loved the delicious burn.
‘That’s it. That’s, my good girl.’
When you thought he was nearing his end, Ani abruptly pulled out. Leaving you breathless and disappointed.
You heard the sound of Obi-Wan still talking above you. “Well, when she awakes; please, give her my regards. May the force be with you both.”
The transmission must have ended after that because a heavy silence now filled the air. You broke it with a small whimper of protest. He answered by sliding his hand from your neck to your aching cunt.
Cupping it firmly, you half expected Anakin to push your panties to the side and begin running his long fingers between your folds. Instead, with a quick jerk of his arm and the scrapping of his chair, he dragged you out by it alone.
Whimpering, you gazed up at him with wide eyes. Had you done something bad? Had you made some kind of noise without knowing? All you wanted was his cum. All you needed was his dick. Didn’t matter where, just give it to you.
“You’re not in trouble, hatari,” he cooed lovingly, while tightening his grip. “If I’m going to cum, then it’s going to be in that sweet little pussy of yours. Understand?”
You nodded weakly, pathetically grinding against his palm.
Ani flashed you a dazzling smile. “Now be a good padawan and go wait in my quarters. I have something I need to finish. I promise to be quick.”
Pulling you effortlessly to your feet, he growled low into your ear. “Just don’t have too much fun without me.” He then gave your now soaking cunt one last hard squeeze and sent you on your way.
He waited a moment, making sure you were out of sight, before turning his attention back to the extremely stunned looking Obi-Wan.
“And may the force be with you too, master,” Anakin said smugly. “Skywalker out.”
#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker#anakin#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin x reader#star wars anakin#sw anakin#anakin smut#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker fanfiction#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars prequels#star wars smut#smut#smutty fanfiction#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen fanfiction#hayden christensen smut
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Skin and bones | Lewis x Reader
Summary: Family vacation was over, and it was time for all of you to go back home. Your mom and Lewis’ dad would go around the world, travelling some more. Lewis would go back to his glamorous, fast life and you’d go back to your quiet life in Paris. So whatever had been going on between you and Lewis this whole time, it all ends. Right?
Themes: stepbrother!lewis, smut, possessive!lewis, fluff
a/n: read part 1, part 2, and part 3 here ;)
“What do you think you’re doing?”
You came back from gathering wood for the bonfire expecting to find everyone setting up tents – since Lewis had the brilliant idea of going camping in the middle of nowhere in this dense forest – but you found no one. Except a devilishly handsome ‘stepbrother’ setting up one single tent.
“Lewis,” You spoke again, dropping all the wood near where you were supposed to have the bonfire. “Where’s my mom? And your dad?”
“They went back to the cabin.” He answered like it was nothing at all as he finished setting up the tent, shaking it to check if it was sturdy enough. It was.
You frowned. “What? But we planned to camp out here, all of us. This was your idea.”
“Relax babygirl,” Lewis stood up and walked over to pick up the wood you’d dropped. “They probably wanted some alone time before we leave tomorrow morning.” He winked at you before walking away again.
You winced not wanting to think about it for more than a second, “Okay, gross.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. It was beginning to get cold, the sun had just set and the forest was getting dark really fast. “So it’s just you and I out here? They just left me here with you and decided to walk back to the cabin for no reason?” Something didn’t add up.
Lewis was kneeling on the ground, setting up the wood to make a decent sized fire. Then he looked up, smirking at you, “They trust big brother to keep you safe, little sis.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. That whole bondage episode happened just two nights ago. Lewis had been less of an ass since. But you could tell some plotting was happening in that head of his. So this morning at breakfast he announced that you all should probably camp in the forest tonight since it would be your last night here at the cabin. The parents agreed of course.
So the four of you hiked up here in the afternoon and began setting up. After a quick dinner, you realised you would all need a bonfire to keep warm through the night, so you volunteered to go find wood for it. When you got back just now, the parents were gone and Lewis was being a smartass again.
“You convinced them to go back, didn’t you?”
You figured that’s the only way they would’ve left you here with him. Lewis had a way of… persuading people easily. All he had to do was stare at you with those soft, warm brown eyes and give you that innocent smile and there’s nothing one wouldn’t do for him. You knew because you’d been a victim of those pretty eyes yourself.
He finally lit the fire, and it caught perfectly, gradually growing. Lewis smiled at you again, a mischievous spark in those eyes of his. “I just told your mom that maybe this cold, humid weather would be bad for her occasional joint pains. And dad decided they should probably head back and be warm in the cabin.” He added, “They didn’t want to take the risk, you see?”
“Right.” So the game you two had been playing was still on. You shook your head at him. “Okay, what do you want?”
“To talk.” He replied quickly, standing up.
Gods… he really was one of the most beautiful human beings huh? His braids were not tied into a ponytail today, they were loose and nearly reached his shoulders. And he looked so warm with all the layers he was wearing. Part of you wanted nothing more than to just snuggle up to him and let him wrap those big arms around you to keep you warm.
“Talk about what, Lewis?” You forced yourself to look away from him as he approached you, the fire growing behind him. You looked down at your muddy shoes instead. “There’s nothing left to talk about. Tomorrow morning we’re all leaving. You’re going back to… I don’t know where. And I’m going back to Paris, and we won’t see each other all year–,”
He stopped you by grabbing you by the chin and tilted your face up so you looked at him. “Really?” He questioned, staring deep into your eyes. He leaned closer, but not close enough. “That night a couple of days ago can’t be the last time I touched you. I want more.” He confessed, and almost kissed you again.
But you pulled away, crossing your arms over your chest like that would act as a barrier between the two of you. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“Why not?” He leaned closer again, pulling you into him by the waist. When you avoided his eyes, he grabbed you by the chin again, “Look at me.” He demanded. When you did, he said, “Are you sure you wanna be done with me?”
No.
You placed your hands flat on his chest. His warmth made you sigh in bliss. Then with a shaky voice you asked, “What’s the endgame here, Lewis? Whatever we do, it’s gonna hurt our parents.”
He scoffed in that arrogant way of his which you loved despite everything. “We’re grown ups. We can do whatever we–,”
You cut him off, “Yes we are grown ups and it’s still taboo and wrong to fuck your mom’s boyfriend’s son!” You whisper-yelled.
He argued still, “It’s different for us! We didn’t grow up together or anything. Hell, I met you only a couple of years ago. Our parents aren’t married, it’s different.”
You had nothing to argue back with so you shut up and pulled away from his warm embrace. “Lewis… I don’t know what to say to you. Maybe we should just go back to our lives and–,”
He cut you off again, this time pushing you against the nearby tree. His strong arms grabbed you by the hips, his chest pressing against yours. You felt hot. And it wasn’t because of the layers that you were wearing.
He got really close to your face, his soft lips just inches away from yours and said in a terribly bitter tone which sent shivers down your back, “Go back to our lives, huh? So you mean to tell me that these past few weeks mean nothing to you?” He questioned in an accusatory tone. “You mean you’re gonna go back and forget about all this? You’re gonna go back and let other people fuck you and pretend you’re not gonna be thinking about me each time they fail to make you come like I do?”
His words shouldn’t affect you but just imagining having sex with anyone else seemed… wrong. You stared into his pretty eyes and your emotions were all over the place. You were sad, angry, you hated him, you craved him, you wanted him gone, you didn’t want to let him go.
“So what?” You asked, sarcastically. “What do you think is gonna happen here? We’re gonna do a risky, long distance thing? We’re gonna keep meeting behind our parents’ backs? We’ll lie to everyone? I’ll fly out to come see you race whenever I can and you’re gonna fly home to me during your breaks? And we’ll be happy together until we grow sick of sneaking around and come clean and tell everyone to just deal with it!?”
Lewis opened his mouth to argue, but then he closed it again. You did the same thing. Twice. You two just stared at each other because whatever you just spit out in a fit… it didn’t sound so bad, did it? Well, except for lying to the parents part.
He didn’t know what to say so he just said, “Get inside.” He pointed at the only tent that was set up.
You didn’t argue even though you saw what was coming. It physically hurt to walk away from him and to even think about all the miles that would be between you two come tomorrow.
You began overthinking everything as you took your muddy shoes off and got in the tent. It was more spacious than you thought inside. You saw the double sleeping bag and a familiar shiver danced down your spine.
You peeled off some layers and immediately got into the sleeping bag. And your mind began racing again as you forced your eyes shut. Say you and Lewis keep this madness up, what would happen when your parents would find out? Family dinners would get real awkward, that’s for sure.
But then, given who Lewis was, what would happen when the world finds out about you? Your parents’ relationship was well hidden from the media. But Lewis always had eyes on him. Now that you thought about it, maybe that’s why he wanted to come here in the middle of nowhere and not vacation in a tourist-y place. There were no cameras here.
–
You opened your eyes and found that you were snuggling next to something warm. You saw tattooed arms wrapped around you and you tried to hide the smile that formed on your face.
“How long was I asleep for?” You asked, placing a hand on his chest. You felt his strong heartbeats beneath your palm and smiled again, sadly this time. Fuck, you were gonna miss him.
“Just an hour or two. I guess you worried yourself to sleep.” He teased. “It’s okay though, it’s only around midnight right now so we have time to talk about everything.”
You sighed, pulling away to get a better look at him. He turned on his side, arms pulling you closer. You shoved your face into the crook of his warm neck and groaned loudly, “I hate you.”
He chuckled softly. “Oh do you?”
His hands slipped under your thin sweater and t-shirt, stroking your skin. He drew lazy circles at your lower back and side. You couldn’t think about anything. His warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin was the only thing that made sense. It was beginning to drizzle outside, you could hear the random droplets hit the tent.
Then you blurted out, “I don’t want to fight with you. But I don’t see how we can be together.”
Lewis was quiet for a while. You let your head rest against his shoulder, your fingers tracing the visible tattoos all over his hands. Then Lewis asked, “Do you truly want me out of your life?”
“No.” You answered with a sleepy voice.
“Then stop fighting this.” He stated, his hands wandering a little more, now sliding up to cup you through your thin bra. “Stop fighting me.”
You sighed, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. If this was the last time, you wanted to cherish each moment. “I don’t want to. But–,”
He cut you off with a kiss. Soft, sweet, his lips brushing against yours slowly. Like he was tasting you for the first time. “That little head of yours thinks too much,” He murmured, moving so he now hovered above you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as you looked up at him. “Let me worry about everything. Just, stop fighting this.” He said before leaning down for another heated kiss.
You moaned and whimpered into the kiss. You needed him badly. “Okay,” You whispered against his soft mouth.
His hand touched you wherever he could, lingering at your breasts and taking his sweet time, caressing and kissing your skin. His other hand slipped past your leggings and cupped you between your legs firmly. You moaned and gasped into the kiss as his fingers teased your clit.
“Lewis, please,” You begged, desperately grinding against his hand. “I need you, please.” You whispered against his mouth.
Lewis chuckled. “Still wanna go back and pretend we never happened?” He teased. “Hmm? Think you’ll ever be able to look in the mirror and not think about how I kiss you?” He kissed down your neck, “How good my fingers feel inside you?” He slid two fingers inside you then, stroking you perfectly, just how you liked it and he had you whining and squirming under him in no time. “Answer me, little sis?”
“Fuck,” You whimpered, “You know I could never forget you.”
He smirked through the kiss, happy with what you said. Then he quickly lowered your leggings while you helped him by lowering his sweatpants, and he easily slid inside you without breaking the kiss.
You wrapped your legs around his waist as best you could. Your clothes and the sleeping bag got in the way but the two of you were too needy to care or stop.
Lewis moved in and out of you, slowly at first, then sped up once he found the right pace and angle. Your back arched off the surface each time filled you up completely, mercilessly thrusting into you hard and fast.
At some point he grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down above your head. He finally pulled away from the messy kiss and stared into your eyes, lips parted and breathing heavily as he fucked you. He rolled his hips against you so well that you began tearing up.
You were gasping for breath, struggling to keep up and not come too quickly because you didn’t want this to stop. You never wanted him to stop.
“You can’t get rid of me, babygirl,” He mumbled breathlessly as he pushed deeper into you. “You can’t forget me,” He fucked you harder, as if proving his point. “You’ll always feel me,” He kissed your open mouth, shoved his tongue past your lips while he rammed in and out of you, “All over your skin, and in your fucking bones,” He growled, and your legs trembled around his waist, but he still thrust deeper into you, fucking you like there was no tomorrow.
You cried out in pleasure, your back arching as you felt a familiar warmth washing over you. Lewis growled and bit down on your shoulder while he fucked you relentlessly. You were sure that his bite left a mark but you didn’t care.
“Lewis,” You gasped, “I need to come, please… please,” You begged.
“Not yet, babygirl,” He whispered, kissing your cheek softly as if it made up for the way he pounded into you like you were a doll. “Don��t you dare fucking come yet.” His hand found its way to your front and he pressed his palm against your lower abdomen. “You feel me in here?” He asked, feeling his cock thrust deep inside you. “You think you’ll forget this anytime soon? Hmm?” His hand travelled all the way to your neck and he gently squeezed the side of your throat. He squeezed hard enough to make you lose your mind while he kept pounding into you incessantly.
“No…” You whispered against his lips. With a few more strokes, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling the burning hot need to come. “Lewis, please I can’t–”
You came with a loud cry, unable to hold back.
Lewis came right after you, buried deep within you – growling under his breath. He remained on top of you, lowering some of his body weight onto you. You welcomed it, it felt nice. He was warm and you were a whimpering mess.
“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay,” He whispered, kissing your face as he slowly pulled out and collapsed next to you in the sleeping bag. You were shaking just a little as he tucked your head under his chin and ran his soothing hand down your back. You placed your head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeats again.
After a while of cuddling as you both caught your breaths, you said, “We have to leave in a few hours. We should get back to the cabin soon.”
He wrapped his arms around you, as if he’d never let go. He kissed the top of your head and said, “Stop thinking for a moment. Just be here with me, baby. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.” He spoke so confidently, like he always did. “I’ve got you.”
You smiled and kissed the compass tattoo on his chest before placing your head on it. You didn’t want to worry anymore. Whatever happened, you two would deal with it.
#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton au#lewis hamilton smut#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#stepbrother!lewis
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- 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎 :: c.bc x reader (MDNI)
synopsis: channie finds his lovers little toy whilst trying to entertain himself in a rare moment he’s left himself home alone.
a/n: repost ik ik whatever, im stilling moving blogs technically but one day it'll be something new <3 part two will probably drop in the next week or so ! fem reader in that part but this one is more solo chan than anything else !
wc: 1,256.
Warnings: housewife chan he is a domestic queen and he’s lonely:(, mentions of living repetitive days, solo male masturbation with toys oop, vibrator over clothes, mentions of a hand job(not described), he busts quick sorry chan<3, cumming in his pants, petnames(baby twice i think), whiny booooy ! next part will be filthier <3
Chan feels very uneasy in his own home at the moment- so used to being the one jetting around the world that he can't quite settle at it being your turn instead.
It's only a fleeting trip to visit relatives, but it’s enough to have him picking his phone up every couple of seconds- blinking notifications having hope settling in his chest that maybe, just maybe, you require his attention.
Alas, your love is needed elsewhere, your partner left to his own devices- bandmates caught up in their own commitments back home too, their leader struggling in what should be a relaxing time. A period of down low. Chan prefers to be busy, to have a task weighing heaving on his shoulders and engaging his mind.
Hence his current situation, rooms gutted one by one as he works his wonders with whatever cleaning supplies he can get his hands on- the kitchen his first target. Spices long forgotten in the depths of storage pulled to the light, discarding as necessary as he uses his new found hobby to hone in on his organisation skills.
He even dabbles in some cooking, various ingredients already creeping up to their best before thanks to only feeding one mouth- if nothing else he has a couple hearty meals prepped in your absence.
The next chore see’s him tackling the living room. All he really needs to is straighten up some blankets and pillows, hoover a little, maybe a candle or something to make it feel homey while you're still away- more of his time spent in the four walls making up the bedroom.
Days begin merging into one as far as Chan’s concerned, each one starting with cleaning and ending with, well, cleaning.
By the time the next day rolls round he's more than half way through scrubbing the entire house- the plans today were to face your shared bathroom, but when he bypasses through the bedroom and is greeted by the chaos he's currently living in, he feels guilty that you're usually the one keeping on top of it.
Clothes tossed all over the room, shoes kicked off and forgotten about in favour of launching himself straight into plush sheets instead- and he can already hear your nagging at how his dirty clothes are on the floor near the laundry basket, not in it- something he now realises is completely justified.
Room cleaning is never straight forward though, and now he’s sat himself infront of the lower drawers attached to the wardrobe, legs criss-crossed as he folds, cramming in even more clothes he's managed to pull out of every crevice in the room.
Reaching forward to scoot some of your belongings around, he makes contact with a metallic object.
It’s cold when he takes it between the pads of his fingertips, believing it to be something else he would need to find a rightful home for on his mad cleaning spree- spending a couple moments rolling it back and forth before spinning it far enough to see a small power symbol near the base of the foreign object, gasping at his own discovery.
He's holding his breath as he presses the power button once. Nothing. He holds it in for a couple seconds this time. Nothing again. He let's out a sigh- no idea if it’s relief or defeat.
But curiousity has already gotten the better of him, inquisitive hands rummaging in the same drawer once more to see if you have a charger for this thing. And low behold you do.
Chan wastes no time plugging it in, busying himself with more tidying- bed stripped and remade with fresh sheets, all the while repeadeatly looking back towards the bedside table.
He manages to forget about it long enough to go take a shower, skin grimey from the accumulation of sweat and dirt but he's back to square one when he lays down to rest for the night. Scrutinising your little friend as it lays by his side- staring at it like it's going to do something spectacular before his very eyes.
Eventually, bravery takes over- thoughts of you quick to flood his mind when it’s in his palm once more. Do you use it when he's away? Do you use it when he's home and busy in the janky makeshift studio in the spare room? He always has headphones on he'd probably never hear you anyway.
He doesn't even realised he's pressing the button, mind running through a million scenarios, a soft "oh" slipping his lips as it begins to frantically buzz between his thumb and index finger.
Chan’s pleasantly surprised by the power it packs and he can only imagine how good it feels for you when you put it to use- excitement building as he considers his next action, a shake of his head stopping the train before it gets on the tracks fully and returning it to it's charger before rolling over to be welcomed by a restless night.
He goes about the next day much like he did the previous, starting to feel like he was stuck in a groundhog kind of situation.
Welcomed by the duvet, he makes himself comfortable on your side of the bed- eyes locked on to his new found enemy that has his brain turning to mush in his head.
But when he picks it up this time he has much different intentions.
Instinct alone guiding him to place it directly on his tip, hips violently rising of the bed with a heavy "oh fuck" when the bullet springs to life.
He's completely underestimated the capabilities of such a compact toy- chest immediately feeling like it's caving in from stimulation.
The brief contact ensuring him that one, this is going to be the quickest release since his first and two, it's going to become addicting- not daring place it on his bare skin.
Slowly running it up and down his length, his eyelids pull shut against his will, never having felt anything like it, doubting he ever will- back arching so far off the bed he's almost resting on his crown.
Ragged puffs of air escape his nose, nostrils flared wide- chest heaving as he begs to keep up with his own self inflicted torture.
Chan's completely taken by surprise by his own orgasm- quick and powerful when it hits him, announcing to an empty room that he's going to come.
"oh god, oh fuck- im cumming, ahhhhh im gonna bust baby, just like that", pent up energy being realesed in the form of repeatedly slapping at the blankets as he does.
With his head feeling like it’s full of cotton wool he can't help but groan at the tacky feeling of his boxers clinging to him, mouth dry and uncomfortable from hanging open so long.
In his state of bliss, Chan barely makes out the sound of his phone ringing- scrambling to pick it up when he eyes focus enough to register your name, news you're finally on your way back to him.
"Chan! I'm in the taxi now I'll be home soon!", your voice comes through the speaker in a sing song tone but he's struggling to make sense of what you're saying.
"Chan? Can your hear me? Hellooo?".
He let's out something akin to a whine, completely beyond his control and using what little breath he can catch to huff out a dazed response,
"baby, you gotta hurry I need help"
You ask the driver to pick up the pace and rush you home, quick.
🏷️: @rose-tinted-kalopsia
𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 !
#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan x reader smut#chan x reader#chan x reader smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#skz x reader smut#skz smut#skz x reader
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Back doors With Sana
Male Reader X Sana
Genre: Smut; don’t think I need to mention what “back door” in smut means.
A/N: To all the men out there, I salute you as we near the end of November. 🫡
4.8K Words
You thought you knew everything about your girlfriend Sana—her hobbies, favorite foods, and what she enjoyed in bed.
However, one night revealed that there might be something you didn’t know about Sana. As she was on all fours and you thrust in and out of her, you absentmindedly placed your thumb on the outer rim of her asshole. This spontaneous action elicited a raspy moan from Sana, surprising both of you.
The subject of engaging in that kind of “act” never really resurfaced, and both of you remained somewhat shy about broaching the topic, which was surprising given Sana’s usual openness about her preferences.
But on a night when she was coming over to visit, everything changed. She walked in wearing a long sleeved shirt and shorts, a mischievous glint in her eyes. With a playful smile, she told you to sit down as she turned around, revealing her intention for the evening.
She playfully pulls her shorts down, revealing her bare ass adorned with a pink panty nestled snugly between her cheeks. Your gaze is fixed on her rounded backside, its pale color forming a stark contrast to the red hue that typically graces her cheeks whenever you fuck her.
Her slender back boasts a creamy-white complexion, unblemished and radiant. The slim structure is complemented by a subtle toning in the upper back, a testament to her dedication to intense dancing and exercise. While her hips aren’t significantly wide, a natural breadth seamlessly blends into the contours of her perfectly formed ass.
Sana turns her head so you can see her side profile, her lip turned upward in a smirk like she’s really got something to show you.
As she gracefully bends down, her enticing curves on display, she delicately spreads her cheeks with her hands, revealing an unexpected detail. Amidst the allure, you catch a glimpse of something pink, mostly concealed by her panties but with a distinctive shape protruding from her asshole. The realization hits you—it’s a heart-shaped butt plug. Your breath catches, and a moment of unexpected intrigue unfolds.
"I thought I'd try to take it out on my own, but you can do it for me, if you want."
Her smirk persists as her panties come off, using her hands to part her cheeks, the heart-shaped handle of the toy becoming more pronounced. Drawing yourself nearer, you’re mere inches away, your warm breath brushing against her exposed skin. The sensation tickles Sana, causing a subtle shiver to ripple through her legs.
Sana takes a deep breath, anticipation evident, as you slowly begin to pull the plug out. The unexpected dryness of the toy suggests it has occupied her intimately for quite some time. Each incremental withdrawal brings forth a unique sensation – a delicate, almost raspy friction against the tightness of her tiniest hole. As you continue, observing Sana’s body shuddering in response, the girthy silver object emerges, each inch marking its journey. Finally, a satisfying pop resonates, her asshole instinctively clenching around the void.
Sana lets out a whimper as the toy now sits in your hand, warm to the touch from being in her hole. You look to her asshole to see it clenching, larger in diameter than it would be otherwise.
As you hold the butt plug in your hand, its warmth resonates, and a glossy shine hints at the lingering traces of the lube she used during the initial insertion.
Your eyes drift to the bed and in a wordless exchange Sana lifts herself up and sits atop the mattress. You two continue where you had just left off, you moving closer to Sana who has repositioned herself on all fours, her rear in a provocative display. You take the butt plug and delicately tap it against her lips.
“Open wide, Sana,” you whisper, and she complies, her tiny mouth welcoming the object. Turning it in circular motions, you grant her a taste of herself. She moans, slobbering on it as her saliva leaves its mark on the bed.
Sana’s enthusiastic response to tasting herself, even in this realm of kinkiness, surprises you, adding an unexpected layer to the kinky behavior of Sana in the bedroom.
She pops the plug out of her mouth, turning to face you. Without missing a beat, she crashes her lips onto yours, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. Your senses become engulfed as her tongue navigates the terrain, leaving behind the unmistakable taste of her ass—slightly bitter, slightly salty, and a strange taste that can only be compared to the metallic flavor of copper. When Sana engages in a makeout session, she goes all in, ensuring your tongue bears the marks of the passionate encounter long after.
She pulls back, a dripping mess of saliva on both of your mouths as she gives you a mischievous grin.
“How’d I taste?”
“Like a… penny?” You furrow your eyebrows as you attempt to come up with a good analogy but can’t think of one to describe the bitter, salty, slightly copper taste from her rear.
“We’ll definitely need to brush our teeth once we’re done here,” she says with a laugh, setting herself on all fours with her cheeks spread, a smile on her face as she looks at you across her shoulder.
“Well? It’s not going to pleasure itself.”
Her pretty pink asshole stares at you, tiny in composition. A compelling desire to taste her overwhelms you, prompting a lean-in to give her pucker a swift lick. Instantly, a robust bodily musk aroma envelops your face—a mellow yet slightly harsh scent that unfurls. Unsurprisingly, the lingering musk carries traces of the day’s activities, the result of a butt plug nestled within for several hours, accumulating the essence of Sana’s movements and sweat.
Sana squeaks as your tongue smoothly enters her puckered hole, whirling her insides with ferocity, gradually tasting every inch of her ass that your tongue can afford, the deviant yet pleasing pressure of your vibrating tongue causing her entire body to stiffen.
The taste is stronger than the smell, with bitterness and a hint of salt overtaking your taste buds. However it doesn't deter you from continuing your oral assault. You lap your tongue in her hole, making sure to go all around the edges, occasionally flicking your tongue over the tip of her sphincter, before dipping it back into her ass.
“Fuck baby, I knew this would be good,” Sana lets out in a low growl as she reaches back with her hand and pushes your face further into her ass, wanting you to push your tongue deep inside her hole.
You comply, seizing both of her cheeks and parting them wider, granting you better access to her ass. Her hips press back, urging more of your tongue into her hole. Simultaneously, she grinds against your mouth, your nose buried deep in her crack, saturated with her most primal scent. The sweaty skin adheres to your face, a tangible connection amid the passionate exploration.
The overwhelming musk continues to permeate, serving as an aphrodisiac, inspiring you to eat her asshole with greater fervor, the sticky moisture of saliva dripping from Sana's ass and collecting onto the bed, while stray fluids fall to your chin.
The outer ring of her ass is completely drenched in your spit, the tiny pink hole clenching just inches from your face serving as Sana’s instinctive response that her hole wants you.
“Baby, how’re you so good at this?” Sana inquires in a breathy moan, her hand returning to her dripping cunt, slick with her slimy arousal. Part of it dangles on her inner thigh as she begins to rub herself.
A sudden urge tempts you to shift attention to her eager cunt, but the memory of how badly Sana has desired this keeps you focused on the pleasure you’re bestowing upon her asshole.
As Sana moans in appreciation, her hand working fervently between her thighs, you remain devoted to the task at hand. Your tongue continues its rhythmic exploration, tracing the contours of her puckered hole with deliberate intent. The taste, a potent mix of bitterness and salt from the sweat, fuels your determination to unravel every nuance of pleasure hidden within.
The texture inside her ass is like that of a sponge, clinging and sticking to your tongue as you explore its contours. The taste inside her ass is salty, the sweat dripping into your mouth, while the musky scent fills the air, a heady combination of sweat and an aroma similar to that of the damp earth after heavy rain.
As Your tongue plunges deeper into her puckered hole, you add a finger, Sana’s body shuddering as the tightness gives way. Another finger joins in, and her moans amplify, the rhythmic dance making her arch and grip the sheets.
“Baby, my ass feels so full,” she moans, her ass clenching around your two fingers. The tightness bears down, the inner walls of her hole becoming intimately noticeable. You pump her gently, easing her into the sensation. She hisses in response, pleasure overpowering the initial sting.
After a few more well-timed pumps, you skillfully retract your fingers from Sana’s rear, eyes focused on the scene unfolding. Her hole, notably wider than at the start, momentarily clenches before gracefully easing back into an alluring openness. It’s like an erotic ballet, a visually enticing dance that vividly signals her preparedness for something more large, more big in size.
“I can’t hold back any longer, Sana,” escapes your lips in a guttural groan. Swiftly, you yank down your pants, revealing a throbbing member slick with the glistening promise of precum. Sana, catching the raw desire in the air, turns her body around with an audible lick of her lips, her eyes locked on the pulsating anticipation.
“You’re getting this hard from my ass?” She smirks, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Leaning down, she plants a teasing peck on the slit of your throbbing cock. Pulling back, your precum clings to her lips, and with a skillful hand, she gathers it up before sensually placing it into her eager mouth.
A low, raspy groan escapes you as you take the fingers that were just immersed in Sana, guiding them to her waiting mouth, where the mingling of the taste of her ass and the warmth of her mouth creates an intimate fusion. The bitter yet salty essence from her most intimate depths adds an irresistible layer to the exploration.
She licks it up, slobbering your fingers with her saliva. She pulls back, her facial expression undergoes a lewd metamorphosis; her eyes, dark pools of desire, lock onto yours with intensity. A mischievous smile tugs at her lips, adorned with a glistening trail of your precum. It’s a mix of lust and satisfaction, the taste of your liquid mixed with the bitter taste of her most secret hole causing her to instinctively guide her hand to her cunt and begin rubbing it in circular motions viciously.
Her arousal pools on the bed, the sticky substance dripping slowly, akin to a raindrop descending on glass. Sensually she spits out a generous amount of saliva over your cock.
As she spits, Sana wears a mischievous grin, the playful curve of her lips matching the audacious act. The corners of her mouth twitch slightly, a sign of confidence. The saliva leaves her lips in a controlled spray, guided by her deliberate movements. With a skilled hand, she lathers it across your length in a provocative display.
“Fuck baby you’re so hot,” she declares bringing her face closer to yours as he her expression changes. The mischievous grin gives way to a more intense gaze, her eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that transcends words. There’s a hint of vulnerability in the slight furrow of her brows, revealing the depth of desire that fuels the moment.
Her heated breath grazes your face as her mouth finds your neck, delivering a delicate bite while her hand moves with a deliberate pace, stroking your member. Breasts pressed against yours, both of you relying on your knees for support on top of the bed. A moan escapes your lips, harmonizing with the sensations coursing through you as she continues to suck on your neck. Your hand ventures, caressing her abdomen near her navel, a silent acknowledgment of restraint, holding back from the temptation of pushing your fingers into her cunt, mindful that your fingers have already explored the depths of her ass.
She withdraws, a lingering ache marking the spot where her bite left its mark, reminiscent of a vampire savoring the aftermath. Her lips meet yours in a swift kiss, and as she pulls away, you’re greeted by the sight of her flushed cheeks, plump lips, and glossy eyes. A wide smile spreads across her face, evolving into a soft laugh. Returning for another round, she leans in, this time planting a tender peck on your nose.
“I love you so much, Y/N. Thank you so much for doing this with me.”
You reciprocate with a smile, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. The lingering sexual tension in the air takes a brief respite as you both share this intimate moment—a gesture of affection from Sana, a token of gratitude for embracing a kink she’s harbored and eagerly wanted to explore with you.
“So, should we get started?” She says with a smile as she lets herself out of your embrace, ass jiggling with each small step as she heads to the the coffee table next to the bed, pulling out a bottle which you can clearly see as lube, but it’s half empty.
“I’ve been practicing for a while now,” she smirks, settling back on the bed. On all fours, her ass spreads in your direction as she hands you the lube. The subtle anticipation in the air intensifies, your hands twisting the bottle open to reveal the clear liquid, clear of any smell as you let it drip over your hand.
You bring it to the inside of her cheeks and spread it around the outer ring of her asshole, finding enjoyment in Sana’s swaying of her ass at the cool sensation.
Sana is on all fours, head turned to the side on a pillow, her hands gripping the bedsheets. You reach forward and grab her ass cheeks with both hands, squeezing the firm flesh. You spread them apart, revealing her puckered hole. It gapes slightly from the attention, and you can see inside slightly, to the glistening of her ass awaiting your touch.
You let the lube cascade over your fingers, slick and giving your digits a shine. With deliberate precision, you insert two fingers into Sana’s pretty pink asshole, the lube seamlessly merging with the moisture from your spit from prior. Sana’s groans echo in response as you pump her several times, ensuring the lube thoroughly coats the inner recesses of her ass.
“I love the way you pump me, babe.”
She lets out a soft whimper, arching her back as you continue to work your fingers in and out of her. Her hole eagerly accepts the presence, gradually relaxing as it acclimates to the attention. You slowly withdraw, leaving a subtle shine behind.
You now insert a third finger, pumping in and out with more vigor. You press down on her ass with your other hand, feeling the firm muscle underneath the supple skin. Sana lets out a long, low groan of pleasure, her hips bucking with each thrust.
Expanding your fingers, you widen her hole, and the tight ring of muscle alternates between clenching and relaxing around your digits, drawing them in deeper. Delving further, you navigate the warm, slick walls, your fingers effortlessly gliding in and out. Sana’s moans now form a continuous melody, her breaths growing heavy and ragged.
Retracting your fingers, you reach for the lube bottle once more. Directly pouring it into her asshole, you observe the clear fluid trickle down the curve of her ass, eventually making its way onto the sheets beneath. Sana gasps, shivering as the cool liquid encounters her sensitive skin. Employing both hands, you spread the lube generously across her entire crack. Your fingers deftly dance over her asshole, teasing the edges, and skillfully dipping in and out.
You withdraw, taking a moment to appreciate your handiwork. Her asshole glimmers, catching the dim light and radiating a subtle shine. Leaning in, you lavish it with your tongue, relishing the sweet tang of her skin entwined with the musky, earthy notes of the lube. Your face nestles into her ass, and you breathe deeply, immersing yourself in the intoxicating aroma. It permeates your senses, a heady fusion of sweat, sex, and unbridled lust.
Craving more, you extend your tongue once again, adopting a slower pace to savor the sensations. Your tongue glides over her puckered hole, tracing circles, exploring every contour. She shudders beneath your touch, releasing a low, sensuous moan. Continuing to lap at her ass, you alternate between sucking and licking, indulging in the feast before you. You continue to push your tongue inside her, feeling the warm, moist walls contract around it.
You want to keep going, to keep pleasuring her, to make her cum. But you also want to fuck her. You can feel your cock throbbing, aching with need. You can't wait any longer. You need to be inside her.
You take the lube bottle and pour what little remains onto your cock. You spread the slick fluid along the length of your shaft, stroking it slowly, coating it thoroughly. Sana is still on all fours, her ass presented to you, her hole gaping and ready.
Sana positions herself, spreading her cheeks with both hands. A seductive glance over her shoulder meets your gaze, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “What are you waiting for?” she asks, her entire body an enticing canvas—from her cute feet to her long, slender legs, and finally, to the focal point of your desire, her cute, round ass.
“Breathe for me honey, I promise I’ll take it slow,” you respond as you gauge Sana’s reaction, looking at you over her shoulder with a smile on her face, nodding her head. You take a deep breath, aligning your cock with the center of her contracted hole, awaiting in anticipation for the upcoming penetration.
You ease your length in ever so slightly, encountering immediate resistance from her tightness despite the generous coating of lube. Sana responds with a groan, a mix of pleasure and pain echoing in the room. Your face scrunches and you grip her ass tightly, resisting the urge to halt for Sana’s sake, well aware of how much she desires this moment.
The sensation differs entirely from her pussy. While her cunt envelops you in warmth and tightness, her ass resists, preventing any escape and cocooning you in its warm embrace. It feels like there’s no place to go, the unique tension creating an intimate connection.
You persist in pushing, watching as Sana buries her face into the pillow. She harshly grips the bedsheets, each gasp escaping her lips marking the inches you advance further into her.
Finally, your hips meet her ass, your cock completely buried in her hole. Sana takes a deep breath, and you witness her asshole twitch, making attempts to accommodate your length. As you give her the necessary time to adjust, you notice her hands clenching the sheets, knuckles turning white. Leaning forward, you stroke her hair with one hand, while the other gently rests on her hips.
“It’s okay. Just breathe, honey,” you say softly.
“You’re so big,” she whispers with a whimper as you imagine the look on her face as her head remains rested on the pillow. A smile graces your face. Continuing to stroke her hair, you wait patiently as her body acclimates to the intimate intrusion.
The sensation is almost beyond comprehension, and as Sana shifts slightly, her ass constricts around your cock, eliciting a moan from deep within. The rhythmic stabilization of her breathing signals that it’s time to continue with the intimate dance.
You initiate a slow withdrawal, the friction from the walls of Sana’s ass intense, as if her body is reluctant to release its hold on your cock. As just the tip remains, you glance down, discovering her hole gaping ever so slightly. A wave of pleasure courses through your entire body at the visual confirmation of her stretched ass.
You lean back down and kiss the top of her spine as you start to push back in. You can tell she is bracing herself for the fullness again, and when your hips finally reach her ass, she lets out a quiet groan, a mixture of pain and pleasure.
“So good, Sana.”
“Mhmm~”
With her wordless hum you continue with your thrusts, increasing in intensity slightly as you gauge the way Sana’s body reacts, sweat glistening her back and ass jiggling with each pump. From her groans you can tell she’s in a mixture of pain and pleasure, but this lovely girlfriend would never tell you the truth of just how much it hurts, wanting to instead prioritize your pleasure.
Despite the initial application of lube, each thrust seems to draw more dryness, prompting you to moisten your member with sporadic spurts of saliva. The once-abundant bottle of lube now sits empty, a testament to the fervor of your shared passion.
“Baby, my ass, my ass is so hot~”
You’re not sure how to take that, whether that be a pleasurable hot or not but from the moans that escape her lips in between you assume it’s somewhere in between.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as with each stroke your balls collide with her cunt. She arches her back, pushing her ass into you, meeting your every thrust. The two of you are in perfect rhythm, moving together as if you are one.
The profound pleasure from her tightest hole engulfs you. Grasping her waist firmly, the paleness of her skin transforms into a warm rosy hue. The duet of your moans crescendos, with your own growing louder, fueling Sana’s arousal evident in the glistening desire escaping from her eager cunt.
You lean forward and wrap your arms around her, pulling her body up to yours as her back touches your abdomen. She turns her head, and you kiss her, your tongues dancing together as you continue to fuck her. Sweat sits on your entwined forms, and the unmistakable scent of sex hangs in the air.
“Sana, I’m about to cum,” you groan, pulling back to speak with your warm breath tickling her face, your pace increasing as Sana hums in response, your grip on her waist tightening.
With every intensified breath, her entire body tenses in response to your deepening thrusts. As you approach your limit, the tightening of your balls is palpable.
A rhythmic throb courses through your cock as you release your load inside her, warm seed coating the inner walls, the swelling of your cock in the tightness of her ass feels as though your erection is caught in a warm embrace that won’t let go.
Sana’s breaths slows down to a more relaxed pace, her body unwinding beneath your lingering caress. In the aftermath, you revel in the intimacy, your softened member still connected, sitting snugly in her warm ass.
A tender kiss on the nape of Sana’s neck seals the moment, your warm breath melding with the sweat-kissed skin.
“That was amazing,” you murmur, observing Sana glance back, her hair tousled and lips tinted, a contented smile playing on her face.
You slowly begin to pull your cock out, watching how the girth of your cock had stretched her asshole so, the hole barely contracting to its normal size, the wrinkles around her pink hole expanding as you pull out. Your cum begins to slowly trickle out, and your heart skips a beat as you watch the white substance slowly roll down her taint and down her pussy lips, staining her already wet thighs.
Following your withdrawal, Sana gracefully collapses onto the bed, her stomach pressed against the sheets. You join her, lying on your back, and catch her smirking gaze.
A laugh escapes her lips, admitting with a playful tone, “Sitting’s not going to be easy for a while,” as her hands gently trace the warmth on her reddened bosom.
Confusion clouds her expression as she pouts with knitted brows, your murmur of “Sana, I’m sorry,” being responsible for the expression on her face.
Her eyes meet yours, a mix of curiosity and concern as you continue, “You didn’t… finish, did you?”
She understands now, coming closer so her head rests on your chest, the sweat of her hands mixing with the perspiration on your body.
“Babe, I knew cumming from my first time doing this wouldn’t be easy. It’s okay.”
She looks up at you with those almond eyes of hers, the corners of her mouth turned up on her blushed skin.
Her eyes meet yours, curiosity shining, “It was still really fun. But how was it for you, babe?”
A chuckle escapes as you respond, “I mean I definitely had a good time in a hole that tight. Glad we did this. My cock is very thankful.”
She laughs, inquiring further, “which of the two do you prefer?”
The question catches you off guard as you ponder the correct answer before Sana breaks your train of thought.
“How about we answer at the same time?”
“Huh?”
“Silly, what I’m saying is at the count of 3 we’ll both say which one of the, well, “holes” we prefer.”
“Uh… ok?”
“Alright, one, two… three!”
“Pussy!”
“Vagina!”
Laughter ensues between you two, your choice being more straightforward while Sana opts for a more formal term.
She gazes up at you, one eyebrow lifted in a silent encouragement for you to keep going.
“I mean, it was good, a whole different kind of tightness. But when it comes down to it, I still prefer your pussy. The tightness, the wetness, the way it grips. Plus, the whole preparation and hygiene aspects are incomparable.”
As your words unfold, your cock lightly twitches, the memory of Sana’s cunt, the warmth and wetness vividly replaying in your mind. Disappointment settles in, realizing her dripping cunt’s heat was only felt by her today.
“How about you?” you inquire, a hint of curiosity in your voice.
She pouts in thought, taking time to gather her words before continuing.
“It was enjoyable… but in a weird way? It felt different than usual. I think the situation made it hotter. Like having sex in that area made it kinda hot but it felt different than the usual.”
“That’s because there aren’t as many nerve endings in your ass,” you casually mention. Her eyes light up, using her elbows to prop herself up, a big smile on her face.
“Nerve endings?”
“I’m not giving you an anatomy lesson,” you joke, the playful banter echoing in the intimate aftermath.
“How was the buttplug? Couldn’t have been too comfortable having that in all day,” you ask, changing the subject to one that had essentially started all this in the first place.
“Hmm, it wasn’t comfortable but just having it in kinda turned me on. Like the situation of knowing it was digging into me with every step I took.”
As she speaks she sits up, spreading her legs to reveal her cunt drenched in her pristine wetness, the inner lips glistening under their clearness.
“Look, I wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t enjoyable.”
You internally groan as she spreads herself with her fingers, you wanting nothing more than to take her right now but knowing you can’t as your hands, mouth, and cock have been in her ass and for hygenic reasons it would be best not to.
“Sana, I think it’s time for a shower,” you mention, rising from the bed. As you choose new clothes from the closet, your back faces Sana, who discreetly observes the glistening sweat off your back and the toned physique which includes the firmness of your ass, providing a striking contrast to the more voluptuous curves of hers. You can’t blame her, she is a girl after all.
You turn back to Sana, a fresh pair of clothes in hand, and suggest, “Join me in the shower?” She attempts to rise but immediately collapses with a yelp, the lingering sensation in her ass making movement difficult.
Concern etches your face as you rush to her side. “Sana, are you alright?” you ask, your brow furrowed and lips slightly parted in worry. She reassures you, explaining that the aftermath is intense but temporary.
“This is going to be harder than I thought.” She whines, looking up at you with a pout and adorable puppy eyes as you can’t help but let out a chuckle.
Carrying her in your arms, princess-style, elicits a surprised squeal from Sana. You navigate towards the bath, her body pressed close to yours.
“I guess I’ll stick to your cunt for now. But… I wouldn’t mind doing this again someday.”
#twice smut#twice x reader#twice sana smut#sana smut#male reader#male reader smut#female idol smut#gg smut#girl group smut
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Oracle!Reader Part 21
Masterlist - Part 1, Part 20, Part 22
Warning! This series is SAGAU and Imposter AU so expect gore. Although this chapter focus more on mental distress rather then physical.
There's a soft light that shines in front of you, lulling you to open your eyes. Pure white greets you as you slowly come to your senses.
There's no feeling in your body, but it doesn't worry you. The boundless white space you exist in is comforting. The sky whirls around you as new colors burst into being.
The once blank canvas is now painted a dark sky on your left with stars sparkling like jewels. On your right is the morning sky, bright blue with clouds adorning it delicately.
It's silent but peaceful. Your relaxed conscious is stirred from its slumber by a voice echoing around you.
“Why have you returned?”
It’s commanding, yet graceful. A cold compassion or a warm hostility?
“The deal has been finalized, and your return was never meant to be. No, that's incorrect.” A pensive hum is heard before the voice continues.
“You were meant to return at some point, but… not now, not yet. Teyvat seems to have sped up the process. While that doesn’t break the deal, I certainly won’t tolerate it amicably.”
A darker tone is used at the end of their words, before the gorgeous sky is overcome by dark red blocks. The serenity you feel is replaced by panic. You’re helpless to stop it from taking over everything.
Your vision begins to swarm with the blood-colored familiar blocks. As crimson takes over, the voice finishes their words.
“I won’t let you back so easily.” The last bits of your vision is covered and your lungs wheeze from the pain of the panic-
“Gasp-”
You sit up in the bed as sweat dots your skin, your lungs burn, and your fingers tremble from the grip you have on the covers. Eyes darting around the small room you’re in, your brain is unable to process everything as it spins.
The dream lingers in your mind. The red blocks poke at the edge of your eyes, the voice continues to echo through your mind. Leaning back, you rest your head on the headboard, the cool wood is a relief on your sweaty skin.
Releasing your bruising grip on the blankets, you rest your palms on your chest. You do your best to pay no mind to how your hands shake. Closing your eyes, a breath is inhaled and kept in.
One… That painting like sky, where else could you see something similar?
Two… The voice that spoke about Teyvat and you so casually, as if knowing everything.
Three… A status similar to an Archon, or mage? No, maybe even higher.
Four… Those red blocks have only been seen once before.
Five… You know who it is now.
The breath is exhaled, and your eyes flutter open at your revelation. Not like she was meaning to hide it. In fact, you could be certain that she wanted you to know that she was Celestia.
Sunlight begins to stream past the edges of the curtain, the wooden floor is cold against your bare feet as you get off the bed. Yanking the curtains and opening the window, you’re greeted with the sun barely peeking out and dew still present on the greenery.
The thought of how early you’ve been forced awake already sours your mood further.
It’s not anytime near 9 am, you would be lucky if it was half past 7 am. Sighing, you flop back onto the bed and reach for that connection between you and Teyvat.
‘Did you see that dream?’ You ask as you stare out the window from your spot. Silence envelops the room as you wait patiently. The soft beating of wings comes from the window, a Geo Crystalfly glides into the room before resting on the bedding next to you.
‘I’ll take that as a yes. What deal did Celestia make that involves me? What part did you play in speeding up my migration to this world?’ Staring firmly at the Crystalfly you remain in your spot.
The amber wings pause and the rocky outline stick together, keeping the wings closed. The crystal exterior body offers no answer to your expectant eyes.
‘Why won’t you respond now? You’re not Zhongli who is obligated to abide by a contract. Am I not your god?’ A bubble of frustration rises at the continued silence. The Crystalfly lowers itself further against the sheets, as if bowing to you.
But you didn’t want a useless bow. You wanted answers.
‘This situation fundamentally involves me. You, or Celestia, or whoever else is in this mess brought me here. And now I’m stuck acting out this stupid Oracle role and I can’t even get a single answer as to why?’
More Geo Crystalflies enter the room, all of them perch on the bed and mimic the bowing gesture. As if that useless, passive action could subdue your ire.
‘I’ve spent every day in this damn world fighting for my life! I just barely recovered from the brink of death! And yet when I ask about this strange situation and suspicious behavior, I get no response? NOT EVEN AN INDIRECT ONE?!’
Maybe it was all the stress you’ve been under, or the pain that still lingers in your body. Some would even say it was all the emotional hurt you’ve felt at having all the characters you treasured dearly treat you like this. But you couldn’t stop yourself from raising your hand in anger, rapidly coming down on the quivering Crystalflies that just refused to move-
Clink!
Your hand is abruptly stopped by the sound of metal hitting the table. You tore your eyes away from the Crystalflies to land on a weasel sitting on the table, a single mora lays at it’s feet.
Recognizing it vaguely as the weasel thief or mora weasels that treasure hoarders train, you stare at it unimpressed. It comes closer to you as the Crystalflies gently flap away to form a path. Beady eyes stare up at you pleadingly as the backpack on it jingles with all the mora inside.
Fingers unbuckling the straps, you remove the backpack and peer into the bag. The brown bag must only hold about 500 Mora, but mora is still mora, and you empty it into your bag. Once finished, you turn back to the Crystalflies ready to intimidate and interrogate more. You only refrain when the scurrying of multiple feet catches your attention.
What has to be at least 10 weasel thieves climbing through the open window, all carrying bags stuffed to the brim. Some hold 750 Mora, while others hold 1,000. Each time you unclip the bag and pour the mora into your bag. And each time you turn towards the Crystalflies, more weasels come through.
“Alright, alright, I get it.” You groan aloud as you ignore the assortment of weasels in the room, choosing to instead sit on the bed. The Crystalflies return to the bowing position as you gaze down at them with an unreadable expression.
Carefully, you scoop up the first Crystalfly that arrived into your hands, guilt of what you had almost done wraps around your heart like a vice.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. Although this whole gatekeeping vital information is annoying, you’ve been nothing but helpful to me. Besides, you may be keeping quiet due to a threat of some sort that the divulging of information could pose.’
You could hear the sounds of the weasels returning with more and more gifts. No doubt a way for Teyvat to show its gratitude to your ‘mercy’. With pursed lips, you ignore the actions and speak to Teyvat gently.
‘I’m afraid, Teyvat. Afraid that Celestia will take drastic measures to keep me from ‘returning’ or whatever. I’m 99% that Celestia is the one who disabled my teleporting feature and why I was only able to telepathically teleport those few times. For all I know, it could be a permanent disability. I don’t want to be limited more than I already am. If it goes too far, then I may even lose those things that proved me as an Oracle. And if that happens…’
Trailing off, you close your eyes and let out a bitter sigh. Setting the Geo Crystalfly back down, its amber wings fluttering in response, you turn to the weasels. Bags of mora, jewelry, wild fruit and small gemstones are beginning to fill up the table.
Opening the flap of your bag, you point at it and then at the table. “I want you guys to put all of that into my bag. If you have bags for me to open for you, bring them to me.”
A resounding trill is heard from them before the horde of Crystalflies flew out of the window. Deciding to leave the window open, you grab the letters and gifts from your previous visitors and bring them onto the bed.
The pitter-patter of the weasels feet and occasional flap of the Geo Crystalflies wing is heard in the background as you prepare for the day. Exiting the room and crossing the silent halls, you get to what has to be the bathroom and finish your morning routine.
The shower you take was the perfect opportunity to examine how your body is after all the healing. The bandages are removed and disposed of as you look into the foggy mirror.
Small scars in the shape of slits are seen on your body, Yelan’s arrows were no joke. The ice from Shenhe’s attacks left lighter toned patches on your calves too. Minor bruises and cuts were still healing up, but the small sting from the water didn’t bother you. If anything, it was the jagged and uneven scars along your spine that brought your mood down.
You were lucky that your broken spine didn’t cut into your spinal cord and paralyze you…
Changing into clean clothes and wrapping some new bandages, you do it all with a sense of apathy. Wouldn’t the thought of nearly being paralyzed have more of an effect? Yet when you thought of it, you could only imagine a sense of relief…
Looking back at the now clear mirror, you reach up for your mask. The battered mask is slipped off and placed on the counter. Familiar eyes stare back, and a grimace plays on your lips.
A purple bruise makes itself known on your temple, and poorly cared for skin muddles your features. The bridge of your nose, the eyes that crinkle at your attempt of a smile, even the way your full face comes together is so-
Foreign.
It’s not yours, not anymore.
It’s the Creators. The God that everyone worships as the one and only bearer of gold blood and highest form of authority.
Y/N does not have a face.
You have a title and a mask to be known by. A manner of speaking that leaves all to be swindled and led by without a true clue as to what goes on.
Licking your cracked lips, you adorn the mask once more and return to the room. Both the weasels and Crystalflies have already left, leaving it bare of activity. Closing the bag absentmindedly, you grab the medication bottles left on your bedside table.
Following the instructions Baizhu told you last night, you drink the medication as prescribed and gag at the taste. Setting all the medication aside, you sit down on the bed again and stare at the pile on the bed.
The letters and gifts from everyone that tried to visit are quickly sorted into two piles. You dig into the designated gift pile first.
A small box is opened to reveal a pair of armored fingerless gloves. It’s not super hard to guess your size, but they fit perfectly. The second and cuter box is opened with a delicious scent imprinting its first impression.
No one else could make food that smells this good except for Xiangling. Taking advantage of the early hours AKA no Baizhu, you wolf down the meal without properly admiring it. The spicy dish won’t do your still sensitive stomach any favors, but at least you enjoyed it.
A folded up paper is the next gift. Unraveling it shows a crude drawing of a brown haired girl with a pink flower, a tall man with glasses, a boy with a color palette you barely remember and a masked figure that had to be you.
Yiran, the little girl that you saved, had to be the one who drew this. That’s who must have spread the word and why Baizhu asked you to be lenient. Only her father, Kuan, could afford to bring her here.
The uneven letters spelling ‘My Heroes!’ at the bottom of the drawing made you smile a little. It was good that she was not only healed enough, but also happy enough to draw this for you.
The boy next to her in the drawing brought a sadder feeling. You didn’t remember him, but you did remember his mother. Her gaunt face and pale complexion came to mind as you pocketed the drawing. You weren’t sure if you could handle facing her.
The next gift evoked a stronger sense of despair as a patchy pouch was opened to show various knick-knacks. Pretty rocks, a tin with a string, shiny coins and worn out dice. You were familiar with the nature of these objects.
Most would see it as trash, but you knew it to be toys that were just as much, if not more fun, than the toys found in shops. Bored kids with nothing to do and nothing to use will find ways to entertain themselves, and being impoverished only fuels their creativity.
Trying to push away those nostalgic melancholic feelings, you open the last gift. A simple string necklace with a dark blue stone hanging from it laid in the box. The icy blue engraved symbol on it reminded you of Chongyun.
After disposing the trash, you put the drawing and the pouch into your bag. You reached for the letters next and opened the first one that you touched.
It was from Kuan, not unexpected, but you were interested in seeing what he had to say. What part he played in your identity getting spread around.
Most of it was profuse thanks for your completion of the commission and that the Adventurers Guild had the payment. Then it was how once Yiran had woken up, she had sneaked into the room when Baizhu was working and saw you.
Apparently she hadn’t been able to heal properly and was stuck on bed rest due to her grief. The kidnapping, death of her friend and finding out that you were going to be punished by the Adepti from the other kids created a mental block preventing her from healing.
But after seeing you and that you were still alive, her pain was eased enough that she was able to finally recover. You felt bad that she was sick all this time while you were being chased down, but she’s better now. And that’s all that mattered.
The next letter was actually from Kazuha. It detailed the sights that he had seen during his exploration of the Lisha area. It quickly turned into how panicked he felt when the wind pushed him to return to Liyue Harbor. The agonizing pain he felt over the rumors of a masked person being rushed into Bubu’s Pharmacy.
As no visitors were allowed, he went to Beidou and relayed the news. She had already finished her business and was preparing to leave. So he left you this letter and the armored gloves from Beidou.
Folding up the letter with the red and orange patterned leaf, you put it back into your bag. A knock on the door caught your attention before it opened slightly to show Qiqi.
“Oh, you’re awake.” She stands at the door frame until you nod, allowing her inside. She ambles inside with a cart of food and medicine. “Please take your medicine with the tea and eat the breakfast.”
She leaves just as quick as she came. As you weren’t starving after Xianglings meal, you took your time with breakfast. The medicine even with the tea tasted pretty bad.
Grabbing the next letter, a faint scent of food lingers on it, letting you know who sent it. Xiangling’s letter was small enough to be confused for a note, but it still easily conveyed her wreck of emotions. It ended with her mourning the fact that she couldn’t visit after dropping off the letter due to a rematch with a Monstadter that she scheduled long in advance.
A letter with a fancy wax seal was next. Opening it, you found the most horrendous handwriting you’ve ever seen. No matter how many times you rubbed your fingers on it, hoping that Tevyat could translate the mess of a letter, it just wouldn’t get any better.
The most you could make out was that Xingqui and Chongyun tried to visit but were denied. That the amulet was a gift from Chongyun that had a spell to protect you from evil spirits. And finally, that they're going to visit sometime today.
Didn’t Xingqui have some connection with Albedo? That would be an easy way to be innocently introduced into Mondstadt.
The next one thankfully did have eligible handwriting, it was a mix of bold letters and graceful strokes. Yun Jin and Xinyan both came to visit, but only Yun Jin would have time to come today.
The thought of having to entertain all these guests with Baizhu still waiting on the explanation of your Oracle status was not improving your desire to just vanish from Liyue. You forgot how tiring it was to constantly string up webs of lies that make up a cohesive story. It was like being constantly at work with the threat of danger on a brand-new level.
That letter is quickly dismissed and you grab the final letter. The paper is stained, and the edges are worn, opening it a strange set of words are found inside it.
“Hello, do you remember me?”
Frowning, you continue to read it as you search through your memories. The words make little sense until you come across a line that summons a wave of needless guilt.
“Those children enjoyed choosing those gifts for you. They remind me of my son.”
You don’t really want to finish this letter anymore.
Despite your internal feelings, you continue to skim through the letter. It touches on how they’re all adjusting to life back on the streets.
How the kids work together more but wail even louder in the night. The people that curse them out for coming back, the few items they had left swept away by the government as ‘trash’. The empty and hollow feeling she carries now that her son is gone.
She wished that she had given him up at birth like she was advised. That maybe at least then he would still be alive.
She mentions her son at least once every line into the letter.
It’s only when you see the curves of the ink spelling out his name that you scrunch up the paper. The paper crinkles as your teeth grit together, the sounds perfectly in tune with each other.
The anger is confusing. You don’t know the kid, so why should you feel guilty? Why should you feel guilty that she chose to share her anguish with you? Why does the thought of being even more aware of that boy make your heart race?
Slowly, you open the now wrinkled and slightly torn paper and skip straight to the bottom.
“I know you probably don’t care. You never promised me that you could save him or deliver him alive to me. But it’s easier to share these feelings with someone separated from this situation than the people who are already suffering with me.”
“I should take these feelings to the Creator and beg for some relief from my pain, yet I can’t even muster the strength to care for the tongue I ripped out in my mourning. How could I possibly keep this pain to me and the Creator alone? Don’t fret about helping me. I leave that all up to our God.”
That end soothes your racing heart and warped feelings, it’s clear to you now.
You’re beginning to feel the guilt from being their God but unable to actually help with anything. Celestia somehow limited you, none of your acolytes would ever believe you to be the Creator, and the powers you do have access to now are useless.
Was it your fault? Could you have been faster and given that boy some food to have saved him? Can you speak to some form of authority and have them help those victims?
Mindlessly, you begin to tear up the letter. It’s therapeutic to watch the scraps fall onto the tray. Each ink stained paper is ripped with shaking fingers, almost like you’re ripping apart the physical manifestation of your guilt.
It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.
You’re not their God, you’re just the Oracle.
The truth doesn’t matter now. If this world can’t accept you wholeheartedly as the human you are, then why should you work to be seen as the God they cherish so much?
As if on cue, ruby droplets fall onto the worn shredded paper on the tray from the paper cuts you gained from your actions. The new gloves you got from Beidou are threatened to be stained as the red begins to trail down, but you quickly swipe it away.
Cursing yourself internally over the mess you made, you fumble with the drawer next to you for some bandages, not even hearing the repeated knocking on the door. It’s only when it’s opened and the pitter-patter of steps nearing you make you look toward it.
Cold, small fingers wrap around your own as magenta eyes stare up at you past the talisman hanging down from her hat.
“What happened?” Qiqi drawls, her signature zombie-like tone makes shame bubble up within you. Hanging your head, you don’t respond as you avoid her eyes.
You don’t feel normal.
-------------------------
The pharmacy is noisy as people frequently pass by the door to your room. Humming a catchy tune, you drum your fingers on the window sill as you watch outside the window. You imagine the wood of the sill must be cool, but you can’t tell under the bandages wrapped around your fingers.
Baizhu had visited you not too long ago to check on your leftover wounds and apply the topical medication. The cool moisture of the herbal medicine cooled down your body and prevented your apparent fever from worsening.
The room is clean aside from the bag you have left sitting on the bed with your belongings safely tucked away.
A small bag lies inside with the bloodied paper remains sitting inside it. You still aren’t sure if you were better off keeping it or throwing away. The series of knocks on your door bring your attention away from the scenery outside the window.
Staring for a second to be sure if you heard correctly, softer rapping follows up.
“Come in.” You call out before moving closer to the middle of the room. It swings open to show a girl with a shiny pink flower hairpin and a tall man wearing glasses. The smile on Kuan’s face is such a stark difference to the dark circles and sullen expression he wore when you first met him.
Yiran has bright eyes and a smile that could rival match the sun. Propufse thanks leave them both as Yiran keeps her fingers wrapped tight around her father’s. She’s still pale and clings to her father's hand when he moves to give you a handshake, but you gracefully ignore it.
“-Oh, and I’m so sorry that you’re being talked about by so many people. I really didn’t expect it to spread so far when I let her tell those other children that you saved that you were alive and recovering.” He looks kindly down at Yiran before gently urging her. “You too, Yiran, you have to apologize.”
Her eyes droop a little, but she still bows her head slightly as she apologizes. “I’m sorry, I just wanted my friends to know you were okay.”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Thank you for the drawing.” You smile at them with ease and maintain small talk with them both a while longer before they leave. The door swings close, and your expression flattens at the same time.
Turning back to the window, you sit again and stare outside. The fluffy white clouds roll past in the blue sky as you allow your mind to go quiet. You just want a brief reprise from the stress you’ve been under all this time.
Time to just exist without having to worry about proving why you deserve to live in this world or your old one. Especially with Ningguang and your travel to the next region so close.
Maybe you took a nap or just dozed off, but the strum of a guitar brought your hazy mind back to awareness. Lifting your head from your arms crossed on the windowsill you see Xinyan taking steps two at a time as she runs from Millelith soldiers.
She quickly jumps off the top step onto the concrete so far below as she continues to play her guitar. It’s impressive, but you can’t help but be irked that soldiers had enough time to chase Xinyan but not help find kidnapped children.
That spiral of thoughts is interrupted as Yun Jin walks up the same set of stairs to Bubu Pharmacy as the soldiers disappear deeper into the city. Outwardly, she’s perfectly maintained, but the slight fidget of her fingers are like a warning sign.
The first and last time you spoke to her was the day of her ‘Lonely Chameleon’ performance that you vaguely recall had her promising to clear up the misunderstanding with Keqing.
What a bunch of good that did.
Yun Jin leaves your sight as she enters the building, and you move away from the window to crack the door open. Sitting on the foot of the bed, you patiently wait for Yun Jin to arrive. The biggest thing you relied on her about was her conversation with Keqing. So at least the situation with the Liyue Qixing can’t get any worse.
A polite knock sounds on the door before you call her in. Yun Jin steps in and closes the door behind her with a graceful smile that you return pleasantly.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you Y/N. I’m unsure if you read the letter but Xinyan and I were incredibly worried. Are you feeling any better?”
It’s not small talk, she’s genuinely concerned, but you have to force the undeserved annoyance down. “I’m feeling way better, and I’m basically almost back to normal. I’ll be discharged today, so don’t worry. Thank you for your concern.” God, you haven’t felt this fake in a while.
Yun Jin walks closer before stopping in front of you, polite as she is, she's not going to ask for a seat so you pat the spot on the bed next to you. Small talk is needlessly exchanged for a few more minutes, but you’re beginning to feel antsy from being stuck in your worry over how Keqing reacted.
“What performance did you do the day after we met? I remember you mentioning how you would speak to Keqing on my behalf after that play.” There it goes again, her fingers twitch before she tightly clasp them together on her lap.
“The performance went well. Thankfully nothing like the Geovishap hatchling accident happened so it wasn’t as stressful. I-I did get to talk to the Yuheng, but I’m afraid she didn’t put much trust into my words.” Just as you thought.
Her eyes squint slightly as she stares down at her lap, the little tremble of her lips and crack in her manners surprises you. You didn’t think she would feel this guilty over it.
“The questions she asked me about how or even just proof of your oracle status were troublesome to say the least. I genuinely didn’t have an answer for most of them and the ones I did weren’t very in-depth. I apologize Y/N.”
Placing your hand on her shoulder, your head shakes softly to deny her words. “Don’t worry about it, Yun Jin. I have a chance to personally refute some of the suspicions on me today. Thank you for at least trying, I just have one question.”
A part of you feels bad that you’re unintentionally displaying your frustrations on Yun Jin but not enough to stop you from asking your question. Her shoulders tense under your hand, and her face freezes when she hears your question.
“Did all those questions make you question whether I’m actually the Creator’s oracle?”
You can only force your lips into a smile that threatens to dissolve into a scowl with every fiber of your self-control at her body's reaction.
----------------------
It’s disappointing, you think to yourself, as Yun Jin basically flees the room. The excuses she gave you and topic changes she tried to pull were pathetic, but you weren’t surprised considering how you went straight for the throat.
Yun Jin was a beast when it came to stage affairs and directing in arts, but there’s little to nothing she has to counter your precise attack. In a way, it’s smart for her to run rather then stand her ground and try to answer.
Standing up, you stretch your body, enjoying the absence of pain. The sly grin you wear is so much more comfortable than the bitter frown you’ve worn these past few days. Yun Jin was simply a good warm up, a nice way to get back into the ‘Oracle’ headspace you’ve developed.
It didn’t matter if you were their God or the Oracle.
Money, shelter, food, and a sense of security were all you needed in life. That is what you’ve focused on to survive all these years, and Teyvat will be no different. If playing along to the cult’s belief of the Creator being the Almighty guarantees your survival, then you’ll happily do so and benefit from their obsession.
Smiling with renewed vigor, you relax on the bed as the sound of footsteps came closer. The hissing of a snake and the muffled words of a man could be heard steadily arriving.
If Yun Jin was a warm-up then Baizhu was your practice. Tonight you had to face Ningguang and that required all your skills to be in top shape lest you end up being killed by her hands.
The door swings open without warning as yellow snake eyes and fushia eyes meet your own eyes hidden beneath your mask. Smiling without a care, you call out to the contracted partners.
“Nice to see you again so soon Dr. Baizhu and it’s nice to meet you Changsheng. You’re here for the scar tissue sample and to ask some questions about my background, right? Come in! Just be sure to close the door behind you…”
Still alive, surprisingly… It's hard to believe that my last update on this story was Nov 14. If you want to hear my excuses as to why it takes long, it basically boils down to school, sick, holiday, and family lol. Plus money but when is it done a problem?
But I came back and was working on it very slowly throughout all this time! The next update will take long too as finals are till the 22nd. And then the next semester on the 17(?) of Jan so yeah, little to no break.
Thanks to my editor who got it done quite fast which is why the chapter is up now, Sunday night or rather early Monday. I hope it gives you all a good start to the week.
To actually talk about about the story, I gotta say that it's longer then I thought. There's still a few leftover tasks to complete before Y/N can truly leave. As well as a hint to the overarching threat now that we got this Celestia hint. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and the series!
If your name is in italics that means I couldn't tag you for whatever reason. If you are missing from the taglist and I didn't respond to your comment or ask to be added to the taglist, leave a comment here so I can check it.
Taglist: Open as always!
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#whisp's amateur work#genshin sagau#genshin impact#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#yandere sagau#yandere x reader#geshin impact#sagau cult au#sagau oracle au#genshin cult au#yandere#yandere baizhu#yandere qiqi#yandere yun jin#genshin impact sagau#sagau#I'm tired so few things might need to be changed later but whatever#it's almost 4 am#why can't I live off 4 hours of sleep?#or better yet#no sleep!
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pairing: hoshi x reader
word count: 3k
warnings: kissing, reader is a bad dancer?
Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.
dance with me by sarah kang ft. cody dear
'cause boy when i'm alone with you
you make me wanna sway, wanna move
dance with me
나랑 춤출래?
i don't care about where or when
pick a song that never ends
You and Soonyoung have been stuck in some weird, uncharted territory for months now.
He’s your friend, but he’s also so much more than that. You know it, and you’re pretty sure he knows it, too.
You’d do anything for him, really. So when he asks you to meet him at the studio before you head home so that he can show you something new he’s working on, you don’t hesitate. Even though it’s midnight, and you’re exhausted from hours spent studying in the library – because Soonyoung is calling.
You can hear music as you approach the practice room, recognizing it as the song for the dance he’s been rehearsing for his final exam, so you’re surprised when you don’t see him through the windows at all. You turn the handle on the door to the room tentatively, opening it just enough to peek inside. And you smile.
Soonyoung is lying flat on his back near the wall closest to you, his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling. You watch as he marks the movements in small gestures from his spot on the floor, bobbing his head to the beat, as if he’s taking only half a break. You’ve been friends for quite some time now, and you know him well enough to know that his mind won’t settle until he’s perfected what he’s practicing. He’ll rest his body if he has to, if it makes him, but even then, you know he’s always going over choreo in his head. Like right now.
You wait until the song is finished, until there’s quiet, and then you speak. “I was invited here to see some dancing, but it looks like I’m in the wrong place.”
Soonyoung’s head falls back onto the floor as he looks over, a grin spreading across his lips when he meets your eyes. He’s looking at you upside down, and it makes you laugh. Then you’re suddenly not laughing anymore, because within seconds he’s pushed to his feet and is bounding over to wrap you in a warm, sweaty hug. Now, your heart is racing.
“Hi!” He beams, moving back to squeeze you by the biceps.
“Hey, Soonyoung,” you manage.
“I was just taking a break,” he explains, and you nod. “Don’t worry, that’s the first one I’ve taken all evening–”
You narrow your eyes at him. “I wasn’t worried before, but now I am, if you're telling me that’s the only break you’ve taken from dancing in the last four hours.”
He just laughs, letting go of you, and you roll your eyes. “Go sit over there, I’ll run it again. I don’t need you to help with much… There’s just this one part in the chorus where it feels a little stiff. Just tell me if anything feels,” he gestures into the air vaguely, “off.”
You nod, mock saluting him as you take your place on one of the chairs scattered along the wall on the other side of the room.
You watch as he sets up the song again, your cheeks warming when he begins shrugging off his hoodie. He’s turned away, his back and shoulders now on full display for you in the tank he’s wearing, and you can’t help but stare. You abruptly look down at your feet when he turns back towards you, the first beats of the song beginning to play. You look at him again as he zones in, squaring his shoulders and getting into position as he watches himself in the mirror.
You don’t have a single rhythmic bone in your body. Watching anyone dance is mind blowing to you, but especially Soonyoung. He’s incredible. Why he wants your advice on his dancing is beyond you, but he always insists, and you’ve never been good at denying him anything.
And why would you even want to deny this? This — a front row seat to one of the most beautiful works of art you’ve ever seen. Soonyoung takes your breath away all the time, but especially like this.
You’re so caught up in his movements that you don’t even recognize when the chorus hits, when it gets to the part you’re supposed to pay extra attention to. You’re in a trance, only snapping out of it when he makes one final turn, and the song ends. You blink, watching as Soonyoung returns to himself, the performer in him calming with every breath he takes. He lets his shoulders drop, lets his body relax, and then he lets out a loud sigh of relief. He crosses the room and joins you, falling into the chair next to yours, and drops his head onto your shoulder.
You remind yourself to breathe.
“So?” He’s still breathless. You suddenly remember why you’re there, why he asked you to come and what he asked you to do, and you flush when you realize that you were too dazed to really notice if anything was amiss.
“This is your best one yet,” you tell him honestly. Which is the truth, because despite your ogling, you would have noticed if anything was glaringly wrong.
“Really?”
You nod. “You’re amazing, Soonyoung.”
The words come out much softer than you intended, much more honest, and you can only hope he doesn’t read into any of it. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you’re running out of reasons not to panic when he says, “Dance with me?”
Your eyes widen as he lifts his head and turns to you with a smile.
“What?”
He lifts his head from your shoulder and stands up, holding out a hand for you to take. “Come on,” he grins, wiggling his outstretched fingers when you don't move. “I’ll teach you some of the easier moves.”
You let him pull you up, even as you continue to protest. “Soonyoung, you know—“
“Come on,” he insists, “you can do it!”
You groan. “I really can’t, you know this! I can’t dance, Soonyoung, I—”
“You can’t dance well,” he corrects, and you level him with a glare. He just grins wider as he adds, “but I know you like to! I’ve seen you on our nights out.”
You willfully ignore how his last comment makes you feel, trying desperately not to flush crimson red at his observation. At the fact that he’s noticed these things. “Yeah, so you already know I look like an idiot.”
“You look,” Soonyoung counters, “like you’re having a lot of fun. I’ve seen the way you smile when you’re dancing with your friends.”
You try once more. “No one is judging me there.”
“No one is judging you here, either.”
You open your mouth but nothing comes out, because you can’t argue with that. You know he would never judge you – for anything. You huff, narrowing your brows as you give him a mock glare, but your shoulders fall in defeat. Soonyoung giggles – your favourite sound – and leads you into the middle of the room.
He doesn’t waste any time as he begins to guide you through what he claims is one of the easier steps to master, and to your surprise, you actually kind of get the hang of it. He’s a good teacher, you note, because of course he is, and you feel a bit less anxious with every “good job!” and cheer he sends your way.
You continue to practice the same small sequence for a bit. When Soonyoung places both arms on your shoulders and stares you directly in the eyes, you stop breathing for a second.
“Okay,” he says, “this is the last move of this part, but it’s a bit hard.” He draws his lip between his teeth, and you watch it happen, because what else are you supposed to do? You think he notices, because his mouth quirks up at the side, but he doesn’t say anything except for, “You up for it?”
You don’t think you say yes, but he begins to teach you, anyway. And he’s right – this last move is hard. He continues to encourage you, and you continue to try and try and try, and –
You let out an ungodly squeal when you finally land in the right spot, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes! I nailed that!”
You try one more time, two more times, and it’s not perfect — but you do it.
You don’t even notice the way Soonyoung is looking at you until after you do the move for the third time. When you do, your heart leaps into your throat. He’s got his arms crossed as he smiles over at you, soft, and you think there’s a pink flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. You try and tell yourself it’s from the dancing, even though you know it’s you that’s been exerting yourself for the last half hour, not him. He looks so fond, and happy, and there’s something else you can’t quite put a finger on. All you know is that it’s making your entire body warm.
“What?” You ask as steadily as you can manage.
He just shakes his head. Then he abruptly looks down as if shaking himself out of a stupor, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck, and you’re frozen in place. What was that all about?
“High five,” he offers, cutting of your train of thought, and it takes you a second to register what he’s asking for.
And when your hand lifts to meet his, he doesn’t let go.
It all happens at once. His fingers intertwine with yours, his other hand finds your waist, and suddenly he’s so close to you that you forget how to think. You know there’s no mistaking the shakiness in the exhale that leaves you.
“Is this part of the choreo?” You finally manage, voice barely a whisper, and Soonyoung lets out a soft breath.
“No,” he admits, his voice low.
His hand slides around to your lower back, testing the waters further. His other hand falls from yours, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort before he pulls you in even closer, like he can’t stop himself.
“What about this?” Your voice is so, so quiet.
“No.”
His voice is soft in the emptiness of the practice room around you. Your bodies are flush now, chest to chest, and you think that if he wasn’t holding you up, your knees would buckle. His eyes still haven’t left yours, waiting, though you don’t know for what. His gaze only breaks from yours to wander across your face; your eyes, your nose, your mouth. You can’t help the soft exhale that leaves you when his eyes find your lips, and you know he notices because you can feel his fingers tighten their grip on the back of your shirt.
Moments pass like that, and when you still don’t move away, Soonyoung lets out a soft breath of air that you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His next movements are slow and calculated, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut. Your hand lifts to his chest, and you’re surprised when you feel just how fast his heart is beating.
“Soonyoung?” You question softly after a moment, impressed that your voice even makes it out at all. He responds with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, his eyes still closed.
“I just… Just give me a second,” he murmurs, and your heart is racing so fast you’re sure he can hear it in the quiet of the practice room.
“Okay.”
You have no idea what’s going on. All you know is that you trust Soonyoung with your life, and if he needs a minute — you’ll give him ten. You think that maybe you’re the one who needs a minute, though, because you’re not sure how you’re still breathing, let alone standing upright with him this close.
So close that your breaths are mingling together in the small space that’s left between you, so close that you can count every single one of those beautiful eyelashes as they flutter against his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your eyebrows furrow.
“For what?” Your hand moves of its own accord, moving from his chest to find his bicep and squeezing gently to remind him that he’s okay. He lets out a hum, but he still doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re almost worried now.
“I’m sorry if this is weird. If I’m being weird,” he elaborates. “It’s just that — well, honestly, ah,” he seems to attempt to squeeze his eyes shut even more, if that were possible. “I’ve really been wanting to kiss you lately — like, more than usual, which is already a lot — fuck, sorry.” He inhales sharply. “You just looked so cute watching me before, and dancing with me now, so I thought that I… and then you didn’t move away, so I thought that maybe you…” He trails off again, and you’re sure your ears are playing tricks on you.
You move your forehead away from his, and his eyes finally open at the loss of contact. When your gaze meets his, your breath is nearly stolen away from you. He looks terrified as he searches your face, his eyebrows furrowed, and you know him so well that you swear you can hear him overthinking everything. His grip loosens on the back of your shirt but he doesn’t let go, and you can tell he wants to speak again based on the way his mouth opens and closes, but he doesn’t. You haven’t moved, and he doesn’t either, and you know he’s letting you decide how to respond. He would give you all the space in the world if you asked for it, you know that.
You don’t want space, though.
“It’s not weird,” you finally say, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you speak. “I’ve been feeling like that, too.”
Soonyoung’s eyes widen, and he blinks slowly. He takes a moment, processing, and then he starts, “You—”
“I swear all I think about these days is kissing you,” you blurt out, and you’re not sure who’s blushing harder now, you or him.
Before you even know what’s happening, Soonyoung is surging forward to close the whisper of distance that remains between the two of you. Then his lips are pressed to yours, hot and slow and lingering, his hand lifting to your jaw to angle your face so that he can kiss you even deeper. You let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper at the intensity of the kiss, at how warm and soft and good his mouth feels against yours, and he hums in return.
When he pulls away, it takes a second for your own eyes to flutter back open. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes have turned into crescent moons.
“Holy fuck, Soonyoung.” You’re breathless, and you can tell he’s pleased with your comment as his thumb caresses the side of your jaw.
“So much better than I could have ever imagined,” he returns, and you flush. “And trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot.”
You move to bury your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, not caring at all that he’s sweaty and warm. His arms pull you in, holding you close to his chest, and you hum as he gently sways the two of you.
“Now neither of us has to wonder what it’s like anymore,” you say softly.
“You’re right,” he agrees, pulling you back so he can look down at you again. His hands clasp together at the small of your back as he leans forward to teasingly brush his nose against yours. “Now that I know what it feels like to kiss you, though, I’m definitely going to be thinking about it even more than I already was.”
Your arms wind your way around his neck. “Me, too.”
“I mean…” Soonyoung is grinning, smile so bright it could outshine the sun, as he says, “We could just… keep doing it.”
You pull him into you so abruptly that it makes you stumble, falling in a tangle of limbs down to the practice room floor. You wince as you land on Soonyoung, but he’s laughing as you roll off and onto your back beside him. You throw a hand over your eyes, and you can feel it as Soonyoung lifts onto his side next to you. A hand moves to trace patterns on your arm, and you can’t help the shiver that courses through you.
“You didn’t hurt me,” he murmurs, and you can still hear the smile in his voice.
“I know. I’m just… Embarrassed.”
Soonyoung’s fingers halt their motions as he finds your hand and brings your arm away from your face, entwining his fingers with yours. He continues to play with your fingers, his body firm against your side as he leans against you. “Why are you embarrassed?”
“I was trying to be sexy and I literally tripped us, Soonyoung. This is why you’re the dancer and I’m not.”
Soonyoung’s mouth moves slowly, almost painstakingly slow, as a smile takes over his face.
He doesn’t say anything, and you’re about to let out a whine because you’re even more embarrassed with him looking at you like that. But he sits up, bringing you with him. The soft smile on his mouth grows, and grows, and grows, until his grin has widened so much that it’s taken over his entire face.
“You like me,” he whispers, and you can’t help the giggle that tumbles past your lips. You flush, giddy over how giddy he is, and you nod.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I really, really do.”
A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Sorry a new fic took so long, there's been a lot going on in my life that I did not foresee lol. Thanks for waiting xx
Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.
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#hoshi fluff#hoshi angst#soonyoung fluff#soonyoung angst#seventeen imagines#seventeen imagine#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#hoshi x you#hoshi x reader#ksy x reader#soonyoung x reader#thirteenvalentines#my writing#ksyfic
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