#I’m sorry but I had to say it and speak MY truth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ode2rin · 5 months

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1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

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“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is.

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.”

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.”

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

#☁️ my ode to you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #michael kaiser #blue lock fluff #first milestone event!#writing: 004

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stunie · 4 months

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˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

PT 2: WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. yamato endo, chika takiishi, akihiko nirei, taiga tsugeura, & choji tomiyama x f!reader

PART 1: kaji, togame, umemiya, sakura, suo, hiragi, kiryu, & sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 1.7K. ohh i had sm fun w endo’s hehe <3 individual warnings are below, but f!reader: referred to as she / her.

YAMATO ENDO. ‘my girl,’ ‘angel’ & ‘pretty thing’

“Hey,” Endo’s voice cuts through the thick air like a blade, heavy arm coming to rudely rest on one of their shoulders. “What do you think you’re doing scaring her into a corner like that? Tryna get at my girl?”

On a normal day, you’d roll your eyes at the teasing tone he always uses around you— but today, it brings you nothing but relief, fresh tears threatening to spill as you choke out his name.

His presence alone is enough to silence the group of guys who had just been talking over you moments prior, the three men in front stiffening at the sight of him alone. They can hardly believe this.

You really weren’t bluffing when you said Endo would kick their asses— he’s frightening.

They exchange knowing looks when they hear you sniffle, hands coming to wipe at the tears that had begun streaming down your cheeks. They were so fucked.

“N-no! Of course not.” One of them breaks the silence.

“We had no idea she was your girl— ” another one stammers, hands coming up defensively.

“Didn’t know? You serious?”

Endo’s voice comes out sharp, eyes narrowing as he puts more weight onto his arm, grinning at the way the man’s knees start to tremble at the pressure. “My angel here doesn’t usually look at me like that, y’know,” he whispers, jutting a thumb in your direction. “So what’d you do to put that terrified look on her face?”

“Sorry— we’re really sorry.” One of them starts to apologize profusely, but your boyfriend was clearly not in his usual good mood today, and he grabs his face roughly, ignoring the way his cries of pain come out muffled against his palm.

“Asked you a question, didn’t I?”

The veins along his forearm bulge when his grip tightens, and you hear a painful crack, the man’s hands coming to desperately scratch and claw at Endo’s arms. “She likes it when i’m nice, so I’ll give you a second chance to quit spewing some fucking nonsense and answer me, yeah?”

The two men behind him exchange glances before stumbling over their words, desperately coming up with any excuse that came to their minds. One of them accidentally slips out the truth. A “we told her we’d make a mess of that pretty face if she kept turning us down” and the group falls completely silent.

“I-it’s okay!” You stammer, hands come to tug at his the back of your boyfriend’s jacket.

Unfortunately for them, your words fall on deaf ears. He lets go of the one he’s holding by the face, not sparing him a second glance as he drops to the floor with a loud thud.

“Okay, i think i get it now,” Endo says through a genuine laugh, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He’s not facing you, but you think you can picture the expression on his face pretty well. “E-Endo-”

“Fifteen.” He speaks slowly. “I’ll meet you in front of that corner store in fifteen, pretty thing.”

CHIKA TAKIISHI.

Oh— so that’s why you’re late today.

Takiishi watches from a distance as you jut your thumb towards your phone screen, your usual chirpy voice laced with anger now as you repeat yourself with a frustrated huff. “I said have a boyfriend.. see? His contact is right here. Can you leave me alone now?”

“And I said I didn’t give a fuck about your little boyfriend.” The man laughs loudly when your lips wrinkle in disgust. “I prefer the ones with an attitude.”

“What do you think he’s gonna do if he finds out, huh?” He reaches out to get a feel of your hair. “Think he can touch me?”

“Takiishi’s gonna knock your lights out cold,” you spit, slapping his hand away when it comes too close to your face. That seemed to be enough to set him off, his eyebrow twitching in anger as he takes a step towards you, looming over your figure with quick breaths.

“Don’t piss me off— I was nice when I said you’d have a good time if you came with me.”

“I’d rather eat shit-” you seethe, angry expression contorting when he grabs firmly around your wrist— “That hurts!” It makes you wince, your phone hitting the concrete with a thud.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The coldness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ah- Takiishi—”

The man jerks his head around at the name, hand still gripping your wrist as he sizes him up. His first thought is that he’s alright. He notices the muscle definition right away, but he doesn’t look particularly heavy. There is, however, a sudden coldness in the air that he can’t quite grasp, and you look awfully relieved now that he’s here.

“So you’re the boyfriend she’s been talking about?” He says with a laugh. “You gonna let her come with me?”

“Move. Don’t waste our time.”

“Huh? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking t—”

“I said move.”

Your mind can hardly comprehend the speed, mind just barely able to register the second Takiishi’s foot connects with the man's chest, sending him crashing to the ground beside you in an instant.

He’s beside you the next second, fingers coming to fix the stray pieces of hair beside your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no! I’m okay.”

He’s monotone, as usual, but the hint of concern makes your heart flutter anyways. He lets you latch yourself onto his bicep, lets you tighten your grip around his arm as you fume about the audacity that guy had, and most importantly, he makes sure you call him every time you’re about to leave your home alone.

TAIGA TSUGEURA. someone touches around your lower back

“My bench has blown up since i switched to bulldog grip,” Tsugeura rambles, “and my squat too. The ‘tripod foot’ cue really helps with even foot pressure.”

You nod along, always interested when he tells you about things he loves, but your attention shifts when you feel a hand press against your lower back. It’s not Taiga’s touch. It’s too unfamiliar. Too invasive. Your eyes fill with panic when you feel the hand start to roam downwards, and you can barely stammer out Tsugeura’s name, voice trembling too much for him to hear.

“I should also get new knee sleeves eventually.” He continues, and you curse his obliviousness. “The cue helps, but I would get way more bounce if I had a pair of Inzers instead of the flimsy ones I’m using now.”

“I always get stuck at the bottom of my squat, so they would help. But i know pause squats help with that, so I could also implement those—”

Your grip tightens on Tsugeura’s shirt, knuckles turning white as you try your hardest to convey your situation. He pauses mid-sentence, finally picking up on the expression you’re giving him.

“Whoa— you okay?” His voice is filled with concern when he peers down at you.

His gaze trails down, and that’s when he notices it.

You gasp at the speed of it all. In an instant, the man is slammed into the wall behind you, loud thud echoing throughout the entire train. “No way.” His voice is loud, and you hear the bystanders gasping and whispering, their attention shifting to the scene.

“That’s messed up, man.” Tsugeura’s voice comes out low, a serious glare on his face that you’ve never seen on him. The vice grip he has around the man’s wrist tightens, enough to have him yelping in pain and stammer out an apology.

“Turn yourself in at the next stop, yeah?”

CHOJI TOMIYAMA.

“Tell me— who was that?” Choji asks, latching himself around your middle to wrap you in a tight embrace, and you glance at the unconscious man sprawled on the ground beside you.

“You knocked him out cold without knowing anything?” You ask incredulously, arms coming to return his embrace regardless, and your lips curl into a small smile when he melts into your touch.

“Mhm. He was bothering you, right?” His voice comes out cheerful, but there’s a small trace of worry in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

He hates to admit it, but his body had completely moved on his own. It’s a bad habit he’s developed since meeting you, because he finds himself worrying about you— desperately wanting to put his strength to use and protect you from everything he saw as ‘bad.’ It was only after he had jump kicked the man grabbing at your arm that he had considered the slim possibility that maybe he wasn’t bothering you in the first place.

“He was.”

He lets out an exhale he didn’t know he was holding. “Then….it was okay that I kicked him in the face, right?”

He relaxes a bit more when you nod, his usual smile returning to his lips. “Thank you for saving me, Choji.”your voice comes out soft and soothing, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the praise.

AKIHIKO NIREI.

“Ah— where are we going?!” You yelp as you stumble forward, barely able to keep up as Nirei pulls you by the wrist.

The two of you were at the mall, shopping for new summer clothes when he had suddenly called you to him by name— dragging you and your bags along with him in an instant. Before you could even realize what had happened, you’re in an elevator, watching in disbelief as he fumbles to frantically click the ‘close’ button, the doors finally sliding shut after the tenth click.

“You’re safe.” He sighs. “That’s a relief.”

“You scared the shit outta me.” you fold your arms across your chest and give him a glare. “What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Nirei chuckles lightly. “There was a guy who kept looking at you. He’s bad news.”

“How can you tell?”

You feel more at ease when his fingers come to interlace with yours again, and you feel him squeeze. “I guess um…” his other hand scratches the back of his head. “I have this sort of danger sense whenever it comes to you.”

“Something like that.”

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker x you #windbreaker fluff #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #yamato endo x reader #endo x reader #chika takiishi x reader #takiishi x reader #nirei x reader #nirei akihiko x reader #taiga tsugeura x reader #taiga x reader #choji tomiyama x reader #choji x reader #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker headcanons #windbreaker headcanons #eviewrites

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meow-xine · 3 months

Text

hiii, this has been stuck on my head for days so i just had to write it.

word count: 1.7k words

pairing: prohero!iida x afab!reader

cw: sorry this is a lot of just smut.. no real plot

not proofread, sorrryyyy :’)

ProHero!Iida who was never one for intimacy. He was always too busy with work and running his firm, never having time to look into relationships aside from the practicality that they could bring; double incomes, continuing bloodlines. They weren’t his thing.

ProHero!Iida who’s attention was captured by you, the newest hire at the firm. Something about the way you carried yourself was so captivating to the young hero.

ProHero!Iida who found himself sneaking unnoticed glances at you when he could. Making excuses to talk to you when in the office. He figured he would wait for you to take initiative, show some interest. After all, relationships weren’t his thing.

ProHero!Iida who noticed his glances getting returned, met with a smile from your pink glossed lips. Starting more idle conversations, too distracted by the sweet notes of your perfume to speak of anything notable.

ProHero!Iida who slowly works up the courage to ask you to drinks one night, having much more of a fun and special night than he could have ever expected. The mood between the two of you at work had uplifted, being much more light for the two of you.

Drinks now becoming a common meeting place for the both of you after work or on the weekends. Iida, after many pep talks in the mirror, had now begun to muster up the courage to ask you to something more formal, more personal.

“[Name]! Good thing I caught you.” Iida spoke, catching you as you were headed toward the door. “Hm?”

“Apologies, but would you..like to go to dinner with me tonight?” He trembled just a bit.

He cut the silence that followed, thinking he may have gone too far.

“Well, I understand you had a long day actually- I’m sorry for asking so soon, it must be-”

“I would love to!” You interrupted. “That sounds very fun Iida, what time works?”

He smiled, a newfound passion filling him.

ProHero!Iida who couldn’t deny the feelings he had for you anymore, especially after your dinner. Acting like an excited teen boy, letting his desires and thoughts of you consume him deep into the night, later than he would ever think of staying up. Pants and whines filled the hero’s dark room as he palmed his length through his boxers. He felt so..dirty touching himself to his dear colleague. At the same time, he couldn’t help himself. You were the first person he had felt this way about. A heavy sigh left his parted lips as he finished into a nearby towel, still thinking about you.

ProHero!Iida who, now more than ever, wanted to be around you. You had gone on multiple dates with the broad hero, your feelings growing stronger day by day, as were his. One night though, when the two of you were getting ready to leave the restaurant Iida you had just eaten at, he invited you over.

“[Name].. There is something I have been meaning to ask you. If you are comfortable with it, would you accompany me back to my house?” He avoided eye contact and rubbed his arm nervously, expecting rejection.

You were flushed, not knowing what to expect. With how you felt about him, there was no way you could say no. So, you smiled and accepted.

ProHero!Iida who led you into his home, making sure to offer any comfort he could. Drink? Blanket? Was the light too bright? Too dark? You sat down on a couch in the main room, him following next to you.

“[Name], truth be told, I don’t know exactly how to say this.” he started, “I..when I wake up in the morning I think of you. I think of you until I walk into the firm and see you smiling, and the second you’re out of sight I cannot help but let my thoughts continue. You are so dear to me, and I’m not sure I have ever felt like this for anyone. You consume my very being, and I brought you here to tell you that I, I have feelings for you. Feelings that are too strong to hide anymore.”

You couldn’t hide your smile, feeling the same exact way as him. Not to mention how sweet and personal his confession was.

“Tenya,” You paused, searching for the right words to say, “you have no idea what those words mean to me. I would be lying if I said I had no feelings for you, and it makes me so happy to hear that you feel the same.”

ProHero!Iida who couldn’t believe the words that escaped your mouth. His breath hitched, and he found himself scooting closer to you on the couch. The two of you were now painfully close, the room filled with the slow breathing coming from you. Then he asked.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

And all at once he cupped your face and met your lips with his. It started off slow, an innocent deep peck. The kiss deepened and his hands moved from your face, snaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

He pulled away. “[Name].. please,” he spoke, keeping eye contact. “I need you. Let me have you, please.” his voice was now filled with desperation. He made his way to your lips again, then your cheeks, feathering slow kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

“Tenya..” you breathed.

“Do you want me to stop?” He pulled back.

“No, keep going..please.” You whined. You knew how pathetic it sounded, but you couldn’t help the growing heat in your lower belly. You needed to feel relief.

ProHero!Iida who leads the two of you to the bedroom, laying you down. Who takes his time removing each layer of clothing, leaving small kisses in between. The sight of you under him, red and covered by nothing more than a sheer bra and matching panties.

He noticed your attempt to rub your thighs together, trying to relieve the growing pressure.

He smiled, “Let me help you.” He searched for permission in your eyes, only proceeding when you nodded yes.

He wasted no time, dipping his hand into your panties, fingers teasing at your slit. “You’re so wet [Name]..” He rubbed your slick around, finally taking one of his fingers and dipping it inside of you, curling it ever so slightly.

“F-fuck Tenya..” you cursed, embarrassed that all it took to get you hot and bothered was a single finger. He brought his other hand under your bra, prodding at the hardening bud. The combination of pleasure surging through your nerves was almost too much to handle. You already felt yourself nearing your finish. You couldn’t help but whimper under him.

He smiled, knowing he had to be doing something right, and slid another digit in. Watching your face contort as you came undone from just two of his fingers inside you. You grinded your hips down on his hand, needing that final push before you could finish. Your orgasm soon came crashing down on you.

“Oh I’m-!”

“Goooood, that’s good. Ride it out.”

He watched your body intently, noticing how your back curved as your orgasm surged through you.

Your moans were replaced with heavy breathing as he pulled his fingers out and stood up, beginning to undress. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him when he got down to just his boxers, tenting as his erection pressed almost painfully against the fabric.

And he was…big.

You too stood up and made your way over to him, first planting a kiss on his lips. Him leaning down, wrapping his muscular arms around your bare waist. Your hand travelled down, touching his erection through his boxers.

ProHero!Iida who watched your face as you pulled down his boxers, watching his throbbing cock spring up and slap his abdomen. He hissed as air hit his dick.

ProHero!Iida who wasted no time helping you remove your bra and panties, the two of you now completely bare.

You laid down, he followed, now laying next to you. “[Name].. if you don’t mind, could you follow my lead for a moment?” He asked shyly, “Of course. I trust you.”

He rolled you over on your side, his cock now pressing behind you, resting on your back.

“I’m going to enter myself now.. if you need me to stop please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

His arms locked you in place as he wrapped them around your waist tightly. Ever so slowly he put his tip in your warm entrance, moaning at the new sensation.

ProHero!Iida who was now buried deep inside you, relishing in the shape of your walls and and how perfectly they housed him. He dreamt of you, of this very experience, but you far exceeded any expectations.

ProHero!Iida who thrusted inside of you, quickening his pace gradually. Replacing the lewd wet slapping sounds with small words of praise, the position you were in making it easy for him to whisper and nibble on your ear.

ProHero!Iida who wished he could listen to nothing more but your moans and whines, see nothing more than your smaller frame unraveling with his touches.

“You’re doing so good, take it just like that..”

ProHero!Iida who makes sure you finish on his cock before he even thinks about cumming. The sweetest sounds fill his room, his ears, he wants right now to please you more than anything.

As you cum, he continues a steady pace, riding you through it. “Mhm, that’s it.” he grunts, pulling his cock out and pumping it a few times before finishing on your ass.

ProHero!Iida who rushes to draw you a bath and clean you up, preparing you a set of sleeping clothes. He bathes you, apologizing if he went overboard and still showering you with praise.

“You did so good, such a good girl for me.”

ProHero!Iida who lays down next to you, watching you until he’s sure you’re asleep. He feels he can now rest knowing you’re okay. He kisses your forehead once before nuzzling into you and falling asleep too

#mha #mha x reader #mha x reader smut #bnha #bnha x reader smut #bnha x reader #tenya iida #tenya #iida #tenya iida x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #tenya iida x reader smut

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briefinquiries · 2 months

Text

Spencer Reid x Reader: Until You Do

Prompt: You & Reid have unspoken feelings for each other.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood / injury mention

A/N: This is a shameless repost (still trying to repost my fics since they got deleted. Enjoy :)

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer says as he hurries into the briefing room. In one swift motion he slides his bag off his shoulder, laying it gently on the floor beside him, as he takes a seat in the only empty chair around the table.

Emily nods slightly in response, simultaneously telling Spencer that his lateness was excused, while also encouraging Garcia to continue presenting the team’s current case.

“Right, um, two people have been murdered outside of Seattle in their homes all within the last two weeks-”

While Garcia continues to speak, you let your gaze wander towards Spencer. His eyes are intently staring at the picture presented on the screen. He looks okay today, still tired, but not as disheveled as you’ve seen recently. You wonder if maybe he slept in today, and that was why he’d been late to work.

Prentiss starts talking about the victimology of the case when Spencer’s eyes shift and catch yours. Instantly, you’re flooded with the embarrassment of being caught staring. You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly move your gaze into your hands resting in your lap. You feel Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a few moments longer, all the while hoping that he doesn’t notice the shade of pink your cheeks are slowly turning.

Focus, you think to yourself.You have a job to do. You turn your attention to the grisly murder scene displayed on the screen and tune back into Garcia’s voice.

“But hold onto your hats, crime fighters, because that’s not even the worst of this whole thing,” she elaborates. “On top of… all the gory things Emily just said, these poor people were all found missing parts of their liver and pancreas.” Her face contorts into a look of disgust, as if just saying the words out loud brought a bad taste to her mouth. “And check this out,” Garcia clicks a button on her remote and brings up a coroner’s report on the screen.

Reid scans the document faster than anyone else. He’s the first to speak. “They were alive when the Unsub cut out their organs.”

Garcia’s sad inhale can be heard throughout the room. “And that is why I am perfectly happy staying in the safe confinement of my bat cave while you all go out and fight evil.”

After Emily calls for wheels up in twenty, the team disperses out of the briefing room, each heading to their desks to gather their to-go bags and whatever other materials they might need for the ride to Seattle.

“Does Spence look off to you today?” JJ’s voice comes from behind you while you rummage through the top drawer of your desk for your cell phone. She leans against your chair casually and looks towards Reid. He’s standing across the room, clutching his shoulder bag and listening intently to something Matt was saying.

“What?” you sputter, just the sound of Spencer’s name sending you into overdrive. “How should I know?”

You realize only after the words leave your mouth how defensive they sound. You bite your lip and try to backpedal. “I mean, I don’t know. He seems fine to me.”

JJ narrows her eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. She is a profiler after all. But before she can interrogate your strange behavior any further, you stand up, grabbing hold of your duffel bag, and brush past her towards the exit.

The truth is, you’ve had feelings for Spencer for a while now. Longer than you’d like to admit. But you’re barely able to admit that to yourself, let alone anyone else. Especially anyone on the team.

Your love is unrealistic and unrequited. A combination that is destined for disaster. So, despite everything inside of you screaming for you to act on your feelings, you choose to bury them. Because that is what’s best for everyone. Everyone except for you.

…

Spencer tries not to overthink you staring at him. Or the way your cheeks blushed that beautiful shade of pink when he caught you. He can’t keep getting his hopes up when it comes to you, though. He’s already been let down so many times.

He thinks back to the very first week you joined the Bureau. God, he was absolutely starstruck as soon as you walked through the door. And if Luke hadn’t commented on the drool pouring down Spencer’s chin, he’s sure his mouth would’ve dropped all the way to his feet.

He’s even more intrigued the more he gets to know you- or rather, not know you, as time went on. Your incessant need for privacy peaked Spencer’s interest. You are mysterious, and Spencer’s always loved a good mystery.

“Would you want to get dinner with me tonight?” Spencer had asked you, only a month after you’d joined the team.

He still remembers how nervous he was, his clammy hands clutching tightly to the strap of his bag. He had to remind himself to breathe or else he might have passed out.

You barely looked up from the paperwork at your desk before turning him down. “Can’t tonight, I’m playing catch up,” you had said, your voice was void of anything even resembling interest.

“Don’t give up,” Luke had told him, clapping his shoulder roughly in the elevator. “I think she’s into you. Just ask again in a couple days, maybe she really was just busy.”

Now that his confidence was shaken, it took extra convincing in order to gain enough courage to ask you to dinner a second time. His stomach was full of butterflies, which Spencer always thought was a stupid analogy until now. But he swears he can feel their wings fluttering around inside of him as he approaches you, putting your coat on and ready to head home.

“Uh, H-Hi,” he stutters. “Do you want to grab some dinner? With uh, with me?” He can hear the shakiness in his own voice.

“Sure,” you had replied, looking up just as you finished doing up the last button on your jacket. You pushed the hair out of your face and smiled at him before turning around to face your coworkers. “Hey- JJ, Pen, Rossi. Spencer and I are gonna grab dinner, you guys in?”

All the butterflies in Spencer’s stomach instantly stilled.

You had made it painfully obvious to Spencer that you were not interested. And he wasn’t one to push.

Spencer tried getting over you. He tried stifling his feelings, ignoring the way he’d drop anything as soon as he heard your voice, or the way his spirits would instantly be lifted if Emily assigned the two of you the same task during a case. He tried not to notice that your favorite breakfast was toast with avocados or that you always bite your lip whenever you were stressed. And he tried not to pay attention to the fact that you liked your coffee with honey and jiggled your leg whenever you had to sit in one place for too long. Because that’s not the type of thing coworkers noticed about one another.

But you had a way of always pulling him back in. Like that morning you brought Spencer a coffee. You had laughed and said the barista messed up your original order, so you got that one for free, honestly it was no big deal. But Spencer tasted the hint of cinnamon and extra cream, and smiled to himself. He spent the entire morning dwelling on the fact that you also knew exactly how he liked his coffee.

Or, like when he’d catch you gazing at him during the briefing meetings.

He’s almost sure that it was nothing. He did barge in late, afterall. Everyone stared at him, right? So why can’t he stop thinking about it?

…

Seattle lived up to its rainy reputation. From the minute the team lands, the skies were dark with storm clouds.

Currently, you are all held up at the police station. After coordinating with the captain and deputies, you all start setting up in the back conference room. You work with Matt to start tacking up the info you already knew– pictures of the current victims, lists of possible witnesses all within a three mile radius of each crime scene, and any evidence that had been found.

Spencer immediately delves into cracking the geological profile, he has his nose practically pressed into the map of the area an officer had provided, seeing things no one else could. While the rest of the team worked through the Seattle PD’s casefiles, Garcia is on speaker phone, the light tapping of her keys can be heard faintly in the background.

“Garcia, any known connection between the victims?”

“Not that I can immediately see,” her voice rings through the speaker phone. “Katie is a second grade teacher, Ethan is a personal trainer at the local gym.”

“No gender preference,” JJ says while comparing the driver’s license photos of the victims.

“No race preference either,” Luke observes.

“Probably not surrogates,” Rossi drums his fingers together, too many differences.

“We have to be missing something,” Tara’s eyes wander from the photos of the victims.

“I’ll keep digging,” Garcia assures you all. “I just might need to get my bigger shovel.”

That evening, a third victim is found just across town.

“Luke, Matt– I want you to head to the dumpsite, canvas the area.” Emily orders. “Y/N, head to the coroner and check if the MO is the same for this victim as it was for the other two. See if you can find anything out about the missing organs. That has to mean something, we just don’t know what yet. JJ, Rossi, can you check out the victim’s house? Maybe we can start narrowing in how these people are all connected. Tara, the victims' family will be here soon. I’d like you to talk to them.”

Emily turns her back towards Spencer. He’s drawing lines on the map. “I’d like you to stay here, Reid. Maybe that third dumpsite can help you narrow down the geological profile.”

The team all nod in agreement, before beginning to disperse out of the conference room.

Garcia’s soft voice can be heard through the speaker ordering everyone to “Be safe!”

…

Once Reid is able to finish up his geological profile, pinpointing the Unsub’s comfort zone within the city, he really starts to feel like they’re closing in.

“Using the abduction and dumpsites for each victim, I was able to narrow it down to this area,” Reid explains to Emily, drawing the lines on the board. Connected, they formed a small radius. “I think the Unsub lives in one of these three neighborhoods. Matt and Luke are in this area,” he points to one district. “And JJ and Rossi are here,” he points to the second. “If it’s alright, I’d like to head out to the last neighborhood, Medina. I’ll talk to the witnesses there and see what I can find out?”

Emily nods, “Good work, Reid.”

With Spencer gone, Tara and Emily are the only two left at the police station. Emily continues pouring over the evidence while Tara speaks to the victims’ families. About fifteen minutes after Reid leaves the precinct, Emily gets a call on her cell.

“What do you have?”

“Emily, I think I might have found the connection we were missing between the victims.” You say through the phone. You’re at the coroner’s office still, the bodies of the three victims laid out in front of you. “The doctor said each of the victims had the blood type AB-negative.”

“That’s the rarest blood type,” Emily adds.

“Exactly. Which could be a coincidence, but the fact that he’s removing organs makes me wonder– what if he’s trying to do a transplant?”

The pieces missing from the profile slowly start to click together in Emily’s mind. “Good work,” she says quickly. “Can you stay on the line for a minute? I’m going to patch Garcia through.”

“Yeah,” you confirm. You wait a few moments before you hear a dial tone. After only one ring, the line connects. “Garcia, I need you to tell me if any of the names on our lists are suffering from fatal illnesses involving either the pancreas or the liver.”

Emily can hear the clicking of Garcia’s keyboard keys on the other end of the line as she works.

“Zilch,” she says, disappointment evident in her voice.

You sigh, but your gut really told you that this was important, so you pressed on. “What about family members of the names on our lists?”

After a few moments of searching Garcia inhales sharply. “There’s a Philip Gardiner on our list and his father, Joseph Gardiner, is currently suffering from stage 4 pancreatitis cancer.”

There’s a brief pause before Garcia adds, “His medical records show that his father has AB negative blood type.”

“How would he know which victims have the same blood type as his father?” You ask.

There’s a brief pause before Garcia says, “Philip Gardiner is a medical assistant at the family practice in Medina.”

“Let me guess–” Emily’s voice trails off.

“All three victims were patients at that practice.”

That’s all that Emily needs. “What’s his address?”

“Already sent to all your phones.”

“Thanks, Garcia.”

In a haste, Emily dials in the remaining members of the team. One by one, each group answers. Everyone except for Spencer. His phone hits his voicemail, but Emily continues anyway.

“Guys, I think we got him. A guy named Philip Gardiner, he was on our list of witnesses. His father has stage four pancreatitis cancer and we think he’s trying to find a healthy pancreas to give to his father.”

Emily looks up the address on the map Spencer so carefully drew out. She runs her finger along the map before finding the exact address.

Meanwhile, you hear the ping of Garcia’s text ring through your phone. When you check the GPS distance, it says you’re only a mile away. In a haste, you offer the coroner a quick ‘thank you’, before heading out of the medical examiner’s room.

“I’ve got his address here on the map,” Prentiss explains. Her finger trails around the region of the Unsub’s house, her heart stopping when she realizes that was the area that Reid was going to question witnesses… Alone. “Penelope,” she says, her voice higher than usual. “Give me the list of witnesses in the Medina area.”

Garcia begins rattling off a small list of names through the phone. But she inhales sharply after a moment before reading out the name, “Philip Gardiner.”

“Reid went to question the witnesses in the Medina area. He left just over an hour ago,” Prentiss explains.

“What?” Your voice rings loudly on the line, as you hoist yourself into the SUV. Your entire insides fill with dread.

“Can we try his phone again,” Matt suggests.

“I’ve tried three times now, the first time it rang, but now it’s going straight to voicemail,” Garcia says worriedly.

“Who’s closest to Medina?” Luke asks.

“I am,” you say, checking your GPS. You’re only a few minutes away from where Reid was. Instantly, you fumble with your keys before harshly turning them and throwing the vehicle into gear. On impulse, you began speeding down the road in the direction of Spencer, pressing the pedal continuously harder..

“I want you to wait for backup,” Emily declares sternly. “This Unsub is armed and dangerous, I do not want you going there alone.”

“Emily–” you argue. Your knuckles are growing white with how hard you’re gripping the wheel. The sheer thought of Spencer, alone with that monster, makes you cringe. He had no clue that he was walking into the house of the Unsub– therefore he could have been jumped, or blitzed, or worse… You shake the thought out of your mind and focus instead on the road ahead.

“Wait for Alvez and Simmons, they’re only ten minutes behind you,” Emily says over the phone.

You shake your head, even though you know none of them can see you. “No, no, no,” you say, your voice starting to waiver. “No, that’s too long– he doesn’t know–”

“We’re on our way now,” Luke’s voice rings through the line.

“It’s Reid–” you gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “I can’t leave him in there alone.” You can’t stand the thought of Reid being hurt, when there’s the possibility of stopping it. If you go there now, you can save him– but if you wait for backup, like Prentiss suggested, he could die.

“Y/L/N,” Emily states sternly. “I am ordering you to wait for backup, is that understood?”

You continue speeding down the road, the Unsub’s house just up ahead. You can see Reid’s discarded vehicle parked on the side of the street, confirming what you already knew. He’s there. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“It’s Spencer–” your voice is just above a whisper. You have direct orders from your supervisor. Direct orders you know you need to follow, or else there would be serious repercussions. You could be demoted, or transferred, or fired from the Bureau all together. But then you imagine Spencer’s face, and you pictured the crime scene photos from the case. What if Spencer wound up like all those other victims? Cut up and discarded on the side of the road like a piece of garbage? You imagine him in there– alone with the Unsub, wondering if anyone was coming to save him. Yes, you think. You’re coming to save him. “I can’t wait, Emily. I’m sorry.”

You only hear the beginning part of her protest before you end the phone call with a click. You waste no time in launching yourself out of the black SUV, weapon drawn and quickly approaching the front door of the house.

The drizzle that had been steady since that morning has turned into a hard rain fall. It makes seeing anything around you increasingly difficult. But once you approach the Unsub’s porch, you’re able to take a peek through the windows. You’re hoping to see any sign of Spencer, but instead, the curtains are drawn obstructing your view.

With your heart beating wildly underneath your own chest, you burst through the unlocked door of Philip Gardiner’s home.

As soon as your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, you’re shocked by what you see. The first thing you notice is Reid. He’s kneeling on the ground with his hands placed above his head. His gun was laying on the ground five feet away from him, discarded like he’d been ordered to drop it. The second thing you realize is that you’re outnumbered. Because not only is Philip Gardiner pointing a gun at Spencer, but his father, Joseph is as well.

You realize that you just assumed Philip’s father was incapacitated, too sickly and unwell to play any part in these murders. But now you can see that obviously isn’t the case.

All eyes turn towards you upon your sudden entrance. But you only look at Reid. His sunken eyes widening when he sees you.

“Put the gun down,” Philip orders, his voice deep and thick with malice. Joseph steps forward and grabs the back of Reid’s head, hoisting it back. He presses the barrel of his pistol right into Reid’s temple.

“Okay,” you say instantly, trying not to panic. “Okay, okay–” you slowly start to lower your gun. “I’m putting it down.” Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him, your mind raced.

You slide your glock across the floor towards Philip and his father carefully. The younger of the two Unsub’s wastes no time in scooping it up off the floor, before aiming his own gun at you.

“Why’re you here?” he bellows, his voice shaking with emotion. “Why can’t you people just leave us alone!”

You take a deep breath, a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. “Philip, I’m here to help you,” you say calmly.

The confusion on his face urges you to continue. “Actually, I’m here to help your father,” you tell him.

“My father?” he asks, his voice littered with skepticism.

“That’s right, I heard he was sick.”

Philip steps closer to you, the gun never wavering in his hand. “That’s right.”

“I’m here to help. You need a transplant. Pancreas, right?”

Philip’s eyes widen and that’s when you realize you’ve gotten him right where you wanted him. “Your father is AB-negative, right? That’s the rarest blood type, it’s hard to find a match.”

Your eyes dart to Spencer quickly, who’s still kneeling on the floor. He’s looking at you with desperation and fear plastered over his face. You wish he could read your mind, could hear what you were thinking. You are going to get out of here, you’d tell him. I am going to make sure that you get out of here alive.

Even if it means I don’t.

“He can’t help you. He won’t be a match,” you tell them, gesturing towards Spencer. “But I am.”

“Is this a trick?” Philip asks, his hand was starting to shake from how firmly he was holding the gun.

“No,” you say, shaking your head in unison with your words. You’re surprised at how calm you’re starting to feel. “No tricks. Just a trade. Let him go, and you can take me instead. Cut me open, take what you want. Just– just let him go,” you plead.

Philip and his dad both nod slowly.

“Okay,” you say, slowly walking towards the unsubs, your hands raised in the air to show them you aren’t going to play any tricks.

“What’re you doing?” Reid’s voice is high pitched and panicked. He’s looking frantically at you for answers

But you ignore him.

“Let him go,” you urge Gardiner. He nods, and his father uses the fist full of Reid’s hair he still had a hold of to hoist him up on his feet.��

Reid stands, but his eyes remain trained on you. “Y/N, stop– what’re you doing?”

Gardiner grabs a hold of your vest when you’re close enough, tugging you into his embrace. He bars his arm around your neck and plants the gun on your temple. “Go–” he orders Reid.

Spencer’s stumbling towards the door. “No, no, no–” he stutters.

“Go, or I’ll shoot her right here,” Gardiner orders. You feel the hard, cold barrel of the gun press deeper into the tissue of your temple, but you still don’t shake. Spencer is going to be safe, you think. That’s all that mattered.

Reid’s eyes are wide and watery. He’s looking at you wildly, like his genius brain can’t comprehend anything that’s happening.

But you nod towards him reassuringly. “Spencer, it’s okay,” you tell him, surprised, yet again, by how calm you feel. “Go, it’s okay.”

It was an easy choice sacrificing yourself for Spencer. The concept of death was scary, but the idea of losing Spencer? That was just unbearable. Plus, there’s no doubt that he’s infinitely more valuable to the team than you are. You know they’d mourn your loss. But they’d get over it, you were replaceable with any other agent. But Spencer? That would leave a wound no other profiler could fill.

You catch one last glimpse of Spencer before Joseph Gardiner's dad escorts him outside of the house. As the door shuts, ensuring Reid is safe, you’re finally able to exhale the breath of air you’ve been holding in. Spencer is going to be okay.

“Come with me,” Gardiner orders gruffly. He grabs you by your elbow and drags you towards the back of the house. You stumble on your feet, trying to keep up with his pace. Gardiner leads you all the way through the hallway, around a corner, and through the sliding back door. The exit leads to a deck on the back of the house. It looks old, with chipped red paint and clutter scattered all around it.

You make your way across it and down a few stairs. When your feet hit the ground, they squish from impact on the wet grass beneath them. Gardiner leads you just a few feet forward. Attached to the back of his house is a cellar door. He undoes the latch before hoisting it open, revealing a pitch black basement.

“Get in,” he orders, pointing the gun right between your shoulder blades.

You hesitate briefly, which proves to be a costly mistake. Gardiner hoists the pistol back and rams it into the side of your head. Your entire body whips forward and you stumble on your feet. “I said get in!” he screams.

As you feel the blood already trickling down your temple, you nod.

Taking one step forward, you begin descending into Philip Gardiner’s basement.

The first thing you do when you’re fully inside is gasp at the smell. It ensnares all of your senses, completely overwhelming you. The back of your hand pressed against your nose does little to mask it.

Gardiner climbs into the basement after you and turns on a light, illuminating the horror scene in front of you. There are surgical tools and blades on a metal tray wheeled next to a bed with restraints. The bed has dark, crimson blood still on it.

You’ve walked into horror scenes, much like this one, a countless number of times. But now that you knew this scene was set for you, it sent unsettling shivers down your spine. Better you than Spencer, you remind yourself. The thought makes you instantly feel calmer.

Gardiner grabs a pair of zip ties on top of the shelf and throws them towards you. “Put them on,” he orders. You nod, and quickly obey him, your head still throbbing from the last time you hesitated.

Now that you’re restrained, Philip steadily works to set up equipment by placing a wide variety of tools on the metal tray. You realize that he was getting ready to kill you.

Despite the obvious fear running through your veins, your mind slowly begins to wander to Spencer. The look on his face when Joseph hauled him out of the room, away from you, is burned into your mind. The hurt, the fear, and the confusion all on full display. But he is safe now, and that is all that mattered.

You wonder if Spencer would figure out why you took his place tonight. You wonder if he’d realize that it wasn’t even an option for you not to, that you had no other choice. You wonder if he knew you couldn’t live without him, or would ever want to.

Philip Gardiner continues stalking around the room. The knives laid out on display make you nauseous. You combat it by taking slow, deep breaths, all while repeating the mantra in your head; he was safe.

Except suddenly, your mantra is interrupted when the latch to the cellar door bursts open with a bang. Two tall, muscular figures descend down the stairs and into the cellar, their guns drawn.

“Drop it,” Luke orders sternly, he’s moving in towards Gardiner with a look of pure hatred on his face. Philip raises his hand above his head, the scalpel still clutched tightly in his grasp. But Luke is quick to disarm him before grabbing a pair of handcuffs and clicking them around Gardiner’s wrists.

Matt, meanwhile, attends to you. He uses his knife to break through the zip ties that have managed to almost cut all the circulation off from your wrists.

“Let me see,” he says softly, tending to the cut on your forehead. You only now realize that the blood oozing from it had mostly dried, caking itself to the side of your face.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, trying to stand up. Luke drags Gardiner past you and Matt and up the stairs.

“That doesn’t look fine,” Matt says. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, raising your hand to touch the wound. Despite your efforts, you wince at the contact. As you finally make it to your feet, you’re woozier than expected. You waiver slightly in place, your head spinning.

“Easy,” he says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Said ‘m fine,” you grumble again.

Matt nods and adds sarcastically, “Whatever you say.”

He leads you out of the basement, his hand never leaving your shoulder. It’s not until you’re outside, in the cool night air, when you see an entire scene unfolding around you.

All four of the black SUV’s are parked outside the Unsub’s house– yours with the driver’s side door still wide open from when you’d previously left it in a haste. There’s also an abundance of squad cars gathered, their lights flashing blues and reds, reflecting grimly in the dark. There’s two ambulances parked near the road, two medics rushing frantically towards you.

“Where’s Reid?” you ask Matt, your eyes searching the crowd for him.

“Medic’s checking him out right now. He’s okay though.”

You sigh a breath of relief, exhaling tension that you didn’t even realize was still inside of you. That’s all that mattered. You can handle everything else.

At least that’s what you thought. You groan when you see Emily jogging over, her vest still strapped on.

After disobeying her direct orders, you immediately know you were in for it.

“Matt, how is she?” she asks, refusing to actually look at you.

“Banged up, possible concussion– I think she’ll need stitches.”

“I can hear you,” you say, wondering why the two of them were talking about you like you were unconscious, or not even present.

“Get her to the medics,” Emily orders. “We’ll talk later,” she says, her dark eyes piercing yours.

You nod slowly. You’d gone against her wishes and broken her trust. The adrenaline that had previously been rushing through your body prevented you from originally seeing that. But the rush is starting to fade, and in its wake left a tremendous amount of guilt and shame. You never meant to cross Emily. You had only wanted to save Reid. She had to understand that, right?

Either way, you made a choice, and now you’d pay the consequences. But it was an easy choice. One that you would make over and over again. Because you’d always choose Spencer, no matter what.

Matt only lets you go when the medics reach you. They lead you the rest of the way to the ambulance, where you sit on the edge of the back door. The EMT wraps a coarse blanket around your shoulders before starting an exam. He shines lights in your eyes, asks you repetitive questions, and checks your wound. After a while, you zone it all out.

Until you see him.

He’s walking past the second ambulance with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. He has a small bandage placed just above his left eyebrow. You gaze at Spencer, checking him over. He looks okay, other than the bandage, he’s unharmed. You exhale another breath of relief. When he locks eyes with you, you can’t help but smile.

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, but he doesn’t smile back. Instead, his face remains stoic and serious, his eyes glaring with anger, before looking away. He turns on his feet and walks towards one of the black SUV’s, climbing into the front seat and snapping the door shut Your smile quickly melts away.

…

On the plane ride home, you take a seat directly across from Spencer. He’s got his nose already stuffed in a book. He doesn’t even glance up when you sit down.

“Spencer,” you say, trying to get his attention.

But he ignores you.

“Reid,” you huff, quickly growing frustrated by his silence.

Spencer snaps his book shut suddenly and stands up from his seat. Without so much as a single glance he strides across the jet and finds a seat next to Luke and Matt. He crosses one leg over the other and opens his book back up again, going back to his literature like nothing had just happened– like he hadn’t just ripped out your entire heart.

You’re in the process of biting back tears when Emily replaces Reid’s seat directly across from you. You tuck your feet up on the seat and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to take up less space, or better yet, disappear altogether.

For a moment, neither one of you speaks.

After a few seconds, Emily sighs. “How’s your head?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“It’s fine,” you mumble. That’s a plain lie. Your head throbs. But it’s nothing compared to the ache inside your chest.

“You were out of line.” Emily states calmly.

“I know,” you whisper, refusing to meet her gaze.

“I gave you a direct order–”

“I know,” you repeat.

“When I give you an order, I need to be able to trust that you’re going to follow it. If this team doesn’t have trust, this team doesn’t have anything.”

You nod, your cheeks flushing hot. She’s putting you on the spot, and speaking loud enough for the entire jet to hear. You deserve it though, you know you did.

Emily lets out a sigh, her tone suddenly softening and her voice growing quiet. “What were you thinking?”

You bite your lip harshly, fighting to hold back the sob boiling in your chest. You wipe your cheeks feverishly before replying. “I was thinking better me than Spencer,” you whisper. “I’m replaceable. He’s not.”

Emily shakes her head. “You are important to this team.”

You stare down at your lap, unable to truly hear the words Emily was saying.

But she reaches across the gap and gathers your hands in hers. “Listen to me,” she says sternly. You finally gather up enough courage to look up. “You are important to this team.” She repeats the words slower and enunciates them more.

You slowly nod, letting them seep into your skin. You aren’t sure if you believed her, but it’s a start.

“Okay,” you say. Slowly, you pull your hands away.

“Do you want to tell me what else is bothering you?” she asks gently.

You bite your lip harder. You aren’t sure if you can trust yourself to speak without crying.

“I did it for him,” you finally say. “Because I wanted to keep him safe. But now he’s so angry at me.”

Emily scoffs at your statement, making you narrow your eyebrows in confusion at her.

“Yeah, right,” she says, amusement dancing in her words.

“He won’t even look at me,” you say quietly. “I mean– I get why you’re mad at me,” you admit. “I disobeyed your orders, I broke protocol– you could’ve gotten in trouble if anything had happened. But I don’t understand why he is too,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “I was just trying to do the right thing… And now he hates me for it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I may not know much, but what I do know is that Spencer Reid isn’t capable of hating you.”

…

Reid hurries off the jet before you’re able to talk to him, which is what you’d been planning since taking off in Seattle. You groan and wonder if maybe you should just give him space. Clearly that’s what he wants.

But, when you’re back inside the BAU, cleaning out your desk. Just as you’re about to go home, you look up and see him in the briefing room. Through the glass, Spencer’s thin frame can be seen cleaning up some case files that were left on the table. His back is to you and suddenly, the idea of cornering him in there entered your mind. He has to hear you out, he has to understand why you did what you did.

Before you can chicken out or change your mind, you hurry upstairs and hoist open the glass doors to the room. Spencer turns around, your sudden entrance jumping him. His face actually looks angrier when he realizes it’s you entering his space.

“Spencer–” you say, your voice already cracking. You aren’t sure how you’re going to do this.

“What?” he snaps back harshly, the first words he’s spoken to you since the event. His eyes are sunken and tired, his hair disheveled and messy– still you don’t think you’d ever seen someone so beautiful in your entire life.

“What did I do?” you plead.

“Are you kidding me?” he says in disbelief.

“I just– I was trying to do the right thing,” you explain.

But Reid cuts you off. “You completely disobeyed Emily’s orders,” he takes a step closer to you. “You were reckless and selfish and stupid and–”

Your eyes widen. “Selfish?”

“Yes, selfish!” he bellows, his hands raising in frustration. “You broke protocol. And willingly put yourself into the arms of an Unsub, just so that you could play the hero!”

“I was not trying to be a hero!” you start to raise your own voice in defense.

But Spencer shakes his head. “Then why’d you do it?”

By now, you’re biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. The anger and frustration you’re feeling towards Spencer left a bad taste in your mouth. Why can’t he understand, why can’t you make him understand?

Did you have to spell it out?

“I did it because I couldn’t stand the idea of something bad happening to my team,” your voice is low. “Even if that meant something bad had to happen to me.”

Spencer stands still, his gaze never softening. After a few moments you speak again. “It worked, didn’t it? I don’t get why you’re so upset–”

In a rushed tone, he blurts out, “I’m upset because you put yourself in danger! I could have lost you!”

Spencer’s words take you back. And you find yourself speechless. Your face immediately softens as you try to absorb what he said, but you’re exhausted and concussed and honestly, don’t trust your own judgment at the moment.

All you can manage to mutter out is a soft, “Oh.”

Spencer’s anger seems to slowly be melting into just plain sorrow. It hurts to see him looking like he’s in pain.

“Why would you sacrifice yourself like that?” he asks, his voice is gentler now.

“Because,” you whisper. It seems like you do have to spell it out for him. “Because that seemed more bearable than the idea of anything happening to you.” The words spilled out of you uncontrollably. You've kept your feelings a secret from Reid for so long, you’re afraid what would happen if you finally revealed them. “The truth is… I’m kind of in love with you. And I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

At that, Spencer's mouth fell open slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He takes another step forward, and in that moment, for the second time that evening, you wish you could disappear, just dissolve into nothingness, out of sight. You’re feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, you wish you could take the words back– just suck them right back into your mouth and keep them there, a secret forever.

But Spencer speaks softly, interrupting your thoughts. “What?”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me say it again–”

“I love you too.”

You hear it– but you don’t believe it. Because it can’t be true.

“Please,” you whisper, wondering if this was just some cruel joke. There is no way Spencer could love you back. “Don’t mess with me. I can’t take it, not from you.”

Reid shakes his head. “I swear to you, I would never joke about something like this.”

“Don’t–”

He takes another step forward and reaches his hand out, touching your cheek softly. His fingers graze your jaw line. “I am in love with you, and I have been for quite some time. Pretty much since the first day I met you. That’s why I was so angry today– imagine if I’d done that to you– taken your place in that house– forced you to leave me with that monster.”

Just the thought made your blood start to boil. The idea of Spencer actually loving you back was just over the horizon– the thought that maybe it’s true was within reach.

You bite your lip nervously, the feeling of Reid’s thumb gliding across your skin sends shivers down your spine. “I don’t know if I can believe you,” you whisper.

“Then I’ll just keep telling you,” Spencer says softly. “Until you do.”

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid angst

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textmel8r · 4 months

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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( sixth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , mentions of sex

୨୧˚ an; so sorry if anyone asked to be tagged recently and you didn’t get tagged!! tumblr is being screwy again and i can’t see any of my comments😭😭 also apology time from nanami woo hoo!!!

Nanami stole yet another glance at the expensive watch wrapping around his wrist. Your promptness was certainly an issue; how does she show up nearly thirty minutes late to a meeting she called?

And then he scoffs at himself, giving a little shake of the head. Meeting? There he goes again, speaking in corporate tongue.

But finally, you do show up. Bursting through the entrance of the quiet café, making an embarrassing show of noisiness with your heaving breaths and wheezes. Not that it had been much of a disturbance to anyone else—only two other patrons resided in the small establishment; one too engrossed in her book to care, and the other scrolling mindlessly through his cellphone with a pastry in his free hand. Even so, you bashfully clapped two hands together as you peeked around the room. “Sorry!”

The older woman behind the counter nods in appreciation. Nanami can’t help but exhale roughly through his nose in sort of an almost-chuckle. God, you were a mess, weren’t you?

“Sorry, I’m so late!” You approached the table he resumed, one near the front window like you’d asked for. Your heels clopping against the grainy tile, knee-length dress flowing like water around your legs. He stands, walking to the opposite side of the tiny, rectangular table and pulling out the chair for you.

“Impressively late,” Nanami derides, but it’s not full of any malice. Truth be told, he did have the patience of a saint when situations like these were called to question. He didn’t mind waiting, because despite your utter tardiness, he trusted that you'd show up eventually, rather than ditching him altogether and leaving him to sulk in the humiliation of being stood up over a cup of black coffee. You were scatterbrained at times, yes, but dependable? Always.

Nanami returns to his side of the table after pushing your seat in. It wasn't meant to come across as a romantic gesture; Nanami had made it a habit of serving the women in his life nothing but a respectful demeanor. Whether it be lovers, colleagues, friends, and anyone in between. Though admittedly, his behavior towards you these past couple of months has been anything but respectful. It’s too late to start making amends to things, but the least Nanami can do now is try.

You shudder. Flustered, maybe? “Y’didn’t have to do that,” you tell him, placing your phone and clutch bag onto the table.

Nonsense. “My mother would have my head if she knew I let a lady pull out her own seat.” While true—his mother, bless her heart, raised him to be the gentleman his is today—he also just… wanted to do it. It felt right to serve you a seat.

Your elbow slams rudely on the table, finger reaching across to wag in his face. “Sounds like a good woman!” You laugh, and Nanami gingerly swats your hand away. He’s about to say something, but you beat him to the next sentence. “Hey, what gives? I thought this was supposed to be a day of relaxation?”

He worms under the scrutinized glare you wave up and down from his face to neck to chest to abdomen, finally peeking under the table to gawk at his shoes. Nanami curls his toes, a feeble attempt to shrink away from the judgement casted in your eyes. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re dressed in fancy-man clothes.” At that, he takes it upon himself to look down at his wear; an ironed dress shirt clung to his chest, tie resting flat and perfectly centered between his pectorals. His slacks were ashy grey and devoid of any wrinkles, cut and hemmed around his ankles just above those stiff, leather shoes snug on his feet. The matching suit jacket was slung neatly over the backrest of Nanami’s chair, sleeves tucked away into its pockets.

His least expensive suit, sure, but still far too pristine and tidy for a little coffee shop outing. "Is it so bad that I like to remain presentable?" Nanami offers the question while he busies his hands, plucking open the pearlescent buttons at his wrists and rolling back the sleeves off the off-white button down.

"Presentability and discomfort don't always go hand in hand, you know. I mean, look at me," your voice echoes the mocking tone of cockiness, clearly a joke but also not at the same time. With a gesture towards yourself, you beam and shimmy in the simple, breezy dress. It had a floral pattern, Nanami notices. "Cute, stylish, and comfortable."

He isn't jumping to disagree with that. "Sorry, all my sun dresses were in the wash." He surprises himself with the jest, but it has you splitting an unladylike snort, so he doesn't come to regret it.

The toe of a thick, wedged heel jabs into his sock-clad ankle. "You business men are all so sassy." Nanami glowers at the adjective chosen to describe him, but doesn't refute. You sigh. "It's fine, I guess. Nothing we can do about it now. Wear some sweats next time though, would you?"

Next time. There’d be a repeat of this?

“Sure.”

“Great.” Your toothy grin beams over your clutch purse, of which is now wrangled in your grabby hands. Rifling through its unorganized contents, dumping out tubes of chapstick, loose change, and sticks of gum onto the table before fishing out a wallet. “Right, I’m starved. Did you look over the menu any?”

Nanami looked it over five times during the wait, if not for anything other than something to pass time. “Not really. Tell me what you recommend.”

You bite. Rambling about the array of pastries and baked goods that have been worthy enough to be placed in the category of y/n’s favorites. Nanami soaks in your excited, leaning in ever so slightly with open ears a you passionately ramble about cake.

“I take it you come here often?”

The question has you nodding. “Like, all the time man. This is my spot, you should be so grateful that I’m not a gatekeeper.” You look back at the menu once more before verbally deciding: “I want pistachio cheesecake and peppermint tea.”

The man poorly stifles his chuckle, rising from his seat. "Alright then, stay here. I'll go order."

"Oh, okay thanks." You shove your wallet into the wall of Nanami's chest, "take my card with you."

He is bewildered that you would even think he'd let you pay for your own meal. "I've got it," Nanami tells you, gently pushing the leather thing back to you.

"Nanami, stop."

"Stop what?"

"Take my fucking wallet," you gnarr, and he thinks you look much like a soaked kitten in this state of agitation. "Don't make me slap you."

It's an unserious threat, but Nanami plays a long. He raises two thick, blonde eyebrows. "Jesus, okay, you win. Just please keep your hands to yourself.” He revels in your little smirk of satisfaction, snatching your wallet back before making his way to the front counter.

Nanami kindly asked for two slices of pistachio cheese cake and two drinks; for you, peppermint tea, and him a coffee, black. Of course, everything was charged to his card. You didn’t need to know that, though.

You scarfed your portion down with swiftness, slinging spoonfuls of chartreuse custard into your mouth with such savagery that Nanami feared you might choke. He was a much more serene sight, preferring to savor each bite between slow swigs of piping coffee. The dark roast complimented the nutty pistachio flavor stunningly. For such a nameless little eatery, the food was exquisite. He takes another calculated bite of cake.

“You like?” The question was garbled behind a mouthful, cheesecake clinging to your milky teeth as you smiled brightly. A childlike excitement radiated warmly off you, clouding across the table to heat him up, too. It was sweet how wired you were, hopeful that he’d, too, enjoy your choice of confection.

Nanami huffs, amused. “Swallow before you choke.” You make a show of swallowing, a big hearty gulp with your eyes squeezed shut. “And yes, I like it a lot. Your tastes are surprisingly refined.”

“Surprisingly?” You gape, offended.

Nanami wants to crack a quip, something referring to your sub-par taste in men, but this little get together was nice. Yeah, it was really nice, actually. So he refrained from ruining it like the asshole he’d been lately, and drowned the snide remark with another toss of coffee. “Sorry, sorry.”

The remainder of the evening was cushy; you both fell into easy conversation about the randomest of topics. Discussions that never breached corporate subject matter, and he was eternally grateful for that. You spoke in tangents, whistling appreciation for a new movie you caught recently, to describing a long list of bands you enjoy, to lamenting about the headache that your minty iced tea sprang upon you: “Ah, brainfreeze!” Nanami doesn’t add much to the conversation, but he is content to listen and provide little hums of encouragement to urge you to keep talking. His eyes, inquisitive honey-colored things, found your lips and stayed there. Despite the uncouth display in which you carry yourself ( Nanami had been itching to tell you to close your legs, what with the way you sit spread-thighed in your seat donning that dress. So careless and unabashed. If the cafe had been a little more crowded, had a little more men around, and he might’ve slipped his foot over the imaginary boundary line to your side underneath the table and nudged them shut himself ) there was an elegance in the way you spoke about topics of interest. Passion flourished from the little curve of your lips, teeth bared in a great smile because you really were just that happy. Nanami feels envious when he watches you.

“I’m shocked at how well this is going.” You grin cheekily, licking cream from the pad of your thumb. “Kind of makes me sad that we didn’t get off on the right foot, you know? I think we could've been good friends.”

“Is it too late for atonement?” Nanami bites back a frown. “I understand if you can never see me as anything other than an asshole. But I never got to formally apologize for my behavior these past few months, Y/n. And I’d like to, if you’ll let me.” Why was this humiliating? It was a seldom occurrence when Nanami was in the wrong, but he was never one to let his faults drift by unaddressed. You deserve an apology—a proper one, not over measly text messages. Still, he miscalculated how awkward this would be.

You flail. “A formal apology? Nanami please, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ will work. It doesn’t have to be a whole thing, I’m mostly over it anyway.” But that was a lie and an obvious one, at that. You weren’t over it, he could see it in your eyes.

The blonde clears his throat and rubs his hands together mindlessly. “No, please. It’s long overdue, and if we’re going to be working in alliance, then you deserve to feel secure with me.” Though Nanami’s hands wrench restlessly, his gaze never detracts from yours. He bares his sincerity in the intense eye contact, offering a peek into his soul. Vulnerability. “I’ve been nothing but rude and ignorant and vulgar towards you, ever since…”

“That night.” You finish for him. “It really upset you, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it did.”

“Why? Do you have a revulsion to sex or something?”

“What? Wh—I—No, t-that’s not…” Nanami sputtered, his ears growing warm from your accusation. “I don’t… mind sex?”

You play with the dainty straw flouncing around your drink, seemingly oblivious to Nanami’s flummoxed reaction. “You seem to have a strong opinion of whores, though.”

He groans, embarrassed with himself, and drags a palm down his pallor face. “Who you choose to sleep with does not make you a whore. It never did, I was just being petty and grasping at straws for anything that would get a reaction out of you.” Nanami runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth, inwardly wishing that the mug of coffee before him would turn to water so he could cure the dryness that ached in his throat.

“Why go through the trouble?”

Nanami opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens again, “I don’t know.”

A piss poor attempt at playing the fool. Surely there was a reason for his unabashed cruelty towards you, but what the fuck was it? “Well, when you figure it out, let me know?” To his utter surprise, your expression doesn’t hold an ounce of animosity; you’re smiling at him. Finding humor in any situation had to be your special talent. Nanami nods dumbly. “In the meantime, you’ll just have to start making it up to me. You were a dick, big time.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm,” you make a comical show of humming, touching your index to the point of your chin, and now Nanami knows you’re fucking with him. “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm. I guess I can start the forgiving process if…” A pause for dramatic effect? The man raises his brows expectantly. “You and I make this,” you gesture between both bodies at the table, “a weekly thing.”

Nanami was expecting a punishment, but this suggestion was anything but. “I’ll need to take a look at my schedule first.”

“Listen, man, do what you gotta do. But I’m telling you, we are getting together at least once a weekend.” You scrub the corners of your lips with a napkin before crumpling it into a tight ball and discarding it on your empty plate. Nanami looks down at his own to see a healthy portion of his cake left. Wordlessly, he slides his plate across the table, and you accept the offering with open arms. “Oh shit, thanks! Like I was saying, this is fun, what we’re doing here. You’re having a good time, right?”

Sitting in a desolate coffee shop and listening to you prattle on has been the most fun he’s had in a devastatingly long time. “Yes, I am.”

“Good. You look fun-deprived.”

Fuck, I am. “I’m not.”

“Keep lying, I see through them all.” You scoop the last bite of Nanami’s cheesecake into your mouth, sighing with satisfaction and rubbing over your full tummy. “Anyway, I think hanging out would be good for us. Healthy, you know? Besides, I’ve been dying to know what off-duty Nanami looks like.”

He cracks a chuckle. “He’s nothing special.”

Your finger snaps in his face, invading his bubble of personal space, but this time he doesn’t shoo you off. “Another lie!”

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tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni @lololooolleonnaaa @nanamiswife22 @r0ckst4rjk @mizzfizz @saiki-enthusiast @taelattecookie @enchantingkitty @kindadolly @reinam00n @hqtoge @syamamas @numblytemporary @xxravenxstarxx-blog @bloomedintome @guacam011y @jameinfrau @luvvmae @kazisupreme @nowhoremones @https-tank @venjrnjrbhrr19 @ya9amicide @darkstarlight82

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cheesecakethots · 1 year

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geto having a cute little non-sorcerer wife that he swears he hates.

he only marries you for your father’s riches, and so when you arrive on his doorstep he leaves the maids to tell you where you’ll be staying; the room furthest from his own.

you’ve been instructed not to so much as look at him, but he finds that he hardly sees you, anyway. you’re more like a ghost that haunts the manor than his wife.

most of the time he’ll happen to pass you sat alone in the garden, dressed in pretty kimonos that have most definitely been suited to his tastes. he hardly speaks to you, the only time he has was when the two of you had accidentally bumped into each other when turning a corner.

“watch it, monkey,” he had hissed, before continuing on with his day. he later found himself thinking on the nervous expression and faint embarrassed blush that had adorned your face. he had been tempted to smash his head against the wall to rid himself of the memory, as it plagued him the entire evening.

your father starts visiting and he has the basic decency to at least pretend as though he loves you. it results in awkward proximity and unloving kisses to your forehead, at least until your father leaves.

for some time, geto’s not entirely sure as to why you play along. you could go to your father and ask to leave this loveless marriage, could you not? then it dawns on him; your father doesn’t care, and you already know that. geto doesn’t like how a tiny part of his chest aches when he thinks too hard about that fact.

it’s not as though he leaves you locked up in some basement, withering away. you’re allowed to explore most of the manor, most of your needs can be met by asking the maids and very rarely he will permit you to visit the nearby town marketplace with some guards.

he starts seeing you more. he’ll sometimes find himself out in the garden, pretending that he has any business outside other than to keep an eye on you. he’ll never admit it, but it can sometimes calm him down, just watching you go about your day. to him it’s like watching a pet trot about, not realising their owner is watching with keen eyes. you’re still just a useless monkey, of course.

one day he discovers you crying in the garden you love so much. he’s never seen you cry before, hell, he’s hardly seen any emotions on you.

“what happened?” he finds himself asking before he can stop. you jump in your seat, not having expected him to be beside you.

“nothing, really,” you say, your voice still shaky and your hand wiping away at drying tears, “i’m sorry to have bothered you.”

he frowns, his patience quickly wearing thin. “tell me, now. what happened?”

you sigh, and some part of him can’t help but note how pretty your eyes look, despite the redness around them. he pushes the thought out before it can properly settle.

“my father sent me a letter,” you confess. “he’s… not happy with me.”

he steps closer to you. “why?”

you hesitate, your mouth opening and closing, but the expression he wears has you telling the truth.

“he wishes that i was pregnant with your child. i have told him that i am not, and never will be, and he… well, he’s not happy.”

suguru raises an eyebrow. “never will be… ?”

you blush, looking to the floor. “i know that you hate me. it may be easier for you to have a child with another.”

he scoffs.

“i don’t-“ geto pauses himself. “do you really think i’m the type of man to have a bastard with some whore?”

“w-well, no, but-“

“do you wish to stay married to me?”

you gulp. “no. i don’t.”

he pauses for a moment, seemingly considering something.

“if you give me a child, i’ll allow you to leave. you’ll still be married to me in name, but you won’t have to stay here, and you won’t be tethered to your father.”

your jaw drops for a moment, and then you collect yourself. “will i be able to see the child after i give birth?”

“sometimes,” he tells you. in reality, he doubt he’d ever let you near them, but you don’t need to know that.

“… okay.”

he finds it harder to convince himself that he hates everything about you when he has you beneath him, your ankles on his broad shoulders and your hands pressing against his back. he can’t help but fuck you even faster when hearing you whine and mewl. he wants to lick the expression you have off of your face, but refuses to indulge in the idea.

“su-su-suguru!” you cry. he stills inside you for just a moment. it’s the first time he’s ever heard you say his name. he was beginning to think you had forgotten it.

he grabs onto your wrists with one hand, pressing them above your head and manhandling you into another position, one in which he can somehow go even deeper than before.

he chuckles, low and raspy, “stupid fucking monkey…”

he’s starting to wonder if maybe he needs two kids. maybe four? hm. maybe you do have your usefulness. maybe he shouldn’t let you go, after all.

#i know this is ooc but idgaf #forgive me i haven’t watched jjk s2 and i barely remember geto but he’s hot so idc if it’s so ooc #allow me to dream #yandere geto suguru #tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere jjk #yandere getou #yandere suguru geto #yandere getou suguru #geto smut #jjk smut #tw forced marriage #tw smut

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eddiexmunsonlover-archive · 2 months

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Heat Wave ~ E.M.

Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A heat wave coursing through Hawkins sends Eddie seeking out any form of relief. Even the cheap, little inflatable pool in your backyard will do, but he'll have to do something for you first. WC: 2.7k Warnings: MDNI 18+ SMUT. Unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), singular use of the phrase 'good boy', no use of Y/N, outdoor semi-public sex. Inspired from laying in the pool during the heat wave that just hit my area, wanted to get this out before summer's over!

Follow my new blog for future fics @eddiexmunsonlover

In the dead of summer in Hawkins, Indiana, it’s another day in a seemingly endless heatwave cooking the midwest. In the Forest Hills Trailer Park, poor insulation does little to help keep the heat out of the metal sided homes, few in the neighborhood able to afford A/C costs, window units struggling to combat the high temperatures. Rather than sweltering in his room, Eddie finds relief walking under the trees in the park, leaves providing shade from the relentless sun.

He’s beginning to think it’s the only relief he’ll get from the rising temperatures this summer. Until he approaches a trailer, glimpsing through the passing trees into the backyard, yellow plastic catches his eye… and crystal clear water.

A pool.

A cheap, inflatable one only a couple feet wide, but a pool nonetheless. Filled with cool water. He can practically feel it engulfing his warm, sweaty body.

Next to it on a plastic lounge chair lays you, basking in the sun. Back home from college, he assumes.

“Well, well, well. Back to visit us peasants?” his voice booms, startling you out of your trance. He leans against your trailer, arms crossed with a grin plastered on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Munson. Can you be any less subtle?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you rather I have knocked?”

You roll your eyes, readjusting in the chair as you eye the metalhead.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, you know. Just perusing the neighborhood, decided to stop by and say hi to an old friend.” He meanders closer to your position, hiding an ulterior motive clear as day. An arched brow peeks over your sunglasses.

“Uh huh… friend…sure”

“Hey, you never spewed insults at me in the halls at school, I consider that a friend!”

You scoff out an amused chuckle as he throws a cheeky grin your way.

“Okay, sure. So, friend, what exactly is it that you wanted?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’re keeping this sweet slice of heaven back here, all to yourself.”

“Yeah, I bought it all by myself.” You state matter-of-factly.

“Hmm. I guess maybe I just thought, being the generous person you are, you’d be willing to share with a friend. I mean, considering the conditions.” He gestures around him with open arms, putting on all the charm he can muster in those dimples.

Despite his stance on the existence of your friendship, you’d never been more than neighbors and classmates. Your circles at Hawkins High never ran or meshed together, your friends falling into the norm of calling him a ‘freak’. A nickname, insult rather, that you never partook in berating him with. An insult that remained when he failed his senior year, meant to graduate with your class. You’ve heard from friends in passing that he failed this year too. You never thought less of him for it though, unlike everyone else in town.

To be honest, you’ve always had a liking for him despite your minimal interactions. Eyes lingering over him when you’d see him in class or the halls, fighting a smirk from his theatrics at lunch. You’d become an outcast like him if your friends knew, but you’d been hiding a crush on Eddie Munson for years. As you look over him now, it becomes strikingly clear that your crush hasn’t faded in the year away at college.

“You think flattery will work on me, hmm?” you remark with a grin.

“Well I only speak the truth, cross my heart.” His actions follow his words, hand over heart.

“Hmm” Your propped up leg fidgets side to side as you consider him.

“Okay, I’ll let you take a dip. But only if there’s something in it for me.” You decide with a confident smile, reveling in the way it catches him off guard before his theatrics kick back in.

“Why, of course. It’s only fair. What would you have me do?”

You keep him a little on edge, taking your time in deciding as you look amongst the yard until a perfect idea pops into your mind at the bottle next to you.

“Well, it is time for me to reapply. Mind giving me a hand?” You throw your own charm his way, a bottle of sunscreen extended out to him.

He only falters for a split second before nodding like a bobble head.

“Uh y-yeah, sure. Of course.” He answers almost too eagerly. “Skin care is important.”

He worries the forced chuckle gives him away.

When you turn to lay on your stomach, he’s grateful you can’t see the way his entire expression fumbles.

To be fair, he’s always had the hots for you. Given your differing social groupings, he never thought he’d stand a chance. Now, he wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him with your demand. Eying the way your bottoms have bunched up between your cheeks, full figure on display for him, barely covered by the cloth.

A deep sigh rises from your chest at the sensation of his calloused hands spreading the cool lotion along your warm skin. Working from your shoulders and down your arms, you feel the anticipation rising as his hands move down your back.

Lower and lower until.. his hands meet your calves. His tongue peeks from between his lips, watching as his hands move higher, from your calves to your thighs. An irresistible tug pulling his eyes and hands to move to your ass.

“Do you uh- want me to..?” he questions, eyeing your cheeks only half covered by your bottoms.

“If you wouldn’t mind… not trying to deal with sunburn on my ass.” You answer sweetly, ending with a lighthearted laugh.

The sensation shoots right between your legs, only inches away from where his calloused fingers knead the plush flesh of your ass. You have to bite your lip to muffle the moan threatening to rise up your throat.

Eddie almost swears he feels the slightest push of your ass against his hands. He’s mesmerized by it, unable to stop himself from visualizing what’s underneath the slither of cloth. He never thought he’d ever be this close to you, let alone touching you like this. He wants to lose himself in it, in you but stops himself before his lingering touch becomes suspicious.

“A-alright, you’re all good.”

You flip over onto your back with a smile.

“Thanks, Eddie. You wouldn’t mind doing this side too, right?”

His eyebrows shoot up with a bob of his adam’s apple, gulping at the proposition before forcing a chuckle.

“Just trying to get a free massage out of me, aren’t ya?”

“Well you know, college is very stressful and I did say you’d have to make it worth my while”

He licks his lips before sinking his teeth into them, looking down at the sunscreen in his hands.

“Yeah, alright” he agrees with a smirk.

His movements mimic his work on your backside. Shoulders, down your arms, slowing as they glide across your chest, forcing himself not to linger before moving down to your stomach. Working up your calves, to your thighs. Admiring the way his fingers dig into the doughy flesh, your covered pussy right in his face.

You’re enjoying yourself far too much, watching how flustered you’re making him through the shade of your sunglasses. As his fingers glide up your legs, you spread them open ever so slowly. Biting your lip as his hands caress up to the inside of your thighs, eyeing the growing bulge in his shorts.

“Eddie…”

Wide eyes shoot up from your core to meet your eyes, now uncovered with your sunglasses moved atop your hair.

“Do you want a taste?”

He watches as your hand slides down your stomach, inching toward your pussy before they flash back up to meet yours.

“It’s a question, not an order.” You giggle at his silence, giving him an out.

“You’re serious?” He asks in disbelief, mouth agape.

You nod softly, biting your bottom lip as your fingers ghost over your clit.

“Wanted you for a long time” You mutter, breathing becoming heavier at the prospect of finally getting what you’ve wanted for so long.

“Shit…” His gaze falls back down to where your hand is, rubbing your pussy through your bathing suit. “You don’t have to ask me twice, sweetheart.”

His hand replaces yours, gently sliding your bottoms to the side and groaning at the sight of your pussy. You gasp softly as his tongue dives between your folds, licking a long stripe from your already wet hole and up to your clit. Hands sliding up your body, pulling both sides of your top to the side to free your breasts. Rough hands engulfing them, massaging them between his fingers as he shoves his face in your pussy like a starving man. Tongue exploring every crevice, lapping up your juices as his nose nudges against your clit.

“Oh fuck” You moan, head falling back as your fingers tug at his curls.

His fingers pinch and roll your nipple between them as his tongue circles your clit, bringing his other hand down to tease your entrance with his fingers. Slowly sliding two ringed digits in, tongue flicking against your clit before sucking it into his mouth, your eyes rolling back at the overwhelming pleasure, moans freely falling from your lips.

You force your eyes open to watch. The sight of Eddie Munson between your legs, mouth worshiping your pussy, tongue working you in a way no guy ever has before, it’s sending you closer to the edge faster than you ever have before.

You bite your lip at the sight, fingers running through his hair. The metal of his rings digging into the flesh of your ass with each thrust of his fingers into you.

“Mmm, good boy.”

A deep, rumbling moan rises from his chest, sending vibrations through your clit sucked between his lips as the pads of his finger rub against your g-spot.

“Fuck, Eddie. You’re gonna make me cum!”

Your admission only eggs him on more, sucking onto your clit harder, fingers moving faster in and out of your soaking walls that clench around them. His eyes flutter open to meet yours and that’s all it takes, every muscle in your body tightening, thighs trembling around his head as you grip it.

Coming down from your orgasm, he replaces his soaked fingers with his tongue. Licking up every bit of your juice he can.

“Taste s’good, baby” he mumbles, face still buried in your pussy.

You whine at the praise and sensation, grabbing onto his hand and bringing his fingers to your mouth, sucking your cum off them. He pulls his attention back to you with a guttural moan, the action making his cock throb even harder in his shorts. Your other hand reaches out to rub him through the fabric, never breaking eye contact.

“Need to feel you inside me” you beg, rubbing the pads of his fingers along your bottom lip.

“Christ…”

His other hand eagerly reaches for the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down under his balls, throbbing cock springing free. Yanking his shirt off to relieve him from the heat of the sun and your sweating bodies.

He lines his cock up with your entrance, slowly sliding himself into your warm, wet walls until he’s fully sheathed inside you with a moan. His mouth latches onto one of your breasts, sucking and nibbling your nipple as he begins slowly thrusting into you.

“Fuck, yes!” you gasp out in pleasure, one hand in his hair as the other grips onto the lounge chair beneath you.

His mouth moves from your breast to your mouth in a hot, wet kiss as he shoves his cock as deep as he can inside you.

“Feel so good. Always wanted to fuck you, sweetheart. Feel this tight pussy wrapped around me.” he mutters against your lips. Sweat makes his bangs stick to his forehead, lips moving to latch onto your neck.

More moans escape your lips from the power his words, mouth, cock, the power he has over you, giving you more pleasure than you’ve ever felt by any other guy in Hawkins or college.

One of his arms hooks under your knee, giving him deeper access as his hips collide with yours, your hands attempting to grip onto his sweaty back. The sensation, his cock stretching you out with every thrust is overwhelming, consuming every bit of your attention, the fact of being in your backyard long forgotten.

“Eddie!”

Your whines of pleasure are met with a stifled chuckle.

“Better quiet down, sweetheart. Don’t want the whole neighborhood to hear you, do you?” his husky voice and breath fan over your ear, sending chills down your spine amid the relentless heat surrounding you.

His reminder, the reality that anyone passing along the same path he did, looking through just the right break in the trees at just the right time, would see Eddie “the freak” Munson balls deep in your pussy on the lounge chair in your backyard.

It only turns you on more, making your walls clench around him, delighting in the broken moans it pulls from him against your ear before he chuckles again.

“Mmm you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl”

His thrusts pick up in pace, your sweat aiding to the wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours.

“You were so cocky earlier, what’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, out of breath. Sporting a smirk as his face moves into your vision, hovering above you.

You groan in a mix of pleasure and annoyance.

“Just- oh…shut up and fuck me”

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he moves your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing his cock to go even deeper inside you. His hands keep a harsh grip on your hips as he plows into you mercilessly. The new position and rough thrusts making the wet, slapping sounds of his skin on yours, his balls slapping your ass grow even louder along with your moans.

“Oh god oh god, yes!” your desperate whimpers fumble from your lips, a white knuckle grip on the plastic holding your bodies up. You’re sure it’ll buckle beneath you at any moment from the power of his thrusts.

“Mmm. What if your mother came home right now, fuck, to find her precious daughter getting fucked by the town freak, huh?”

Even in his pleasure, the smug teasing still breaks through. Taking even more pleasure in watching you unravel beneath him, because of him, a girl once thought to be completely unattainable, now cockdrunk for him.

“Mmm don’t care, feel too fucking good” you answer breathlessly, feeling yourself quickly barreling toward your climax again.

He can’t decide where to look, watching your face twist in pleasure or watch his cock disappear in and out between your pussy lips. Despite his teasing, he can feel he doesn’t have much longer, and if the way your walls are pulsing around his cock is any sign, he knows you don’t either.

“Gonna cum again for me, baby? Give it to me, wanna feel you soak my cock, pretty girl”

He keeps up his relentless pace as much as he can and you feel like his cock is about to split you in two, making your toes curl in their position next to his head. You can’t stop it even if you tried, waves of pleasure crashing through your whole body as you meet your end.

“Fuck, Eddie!” you squeal in overwhelming pleasure, hands moving to grip onto his arms. Your head thrown back, mouth falling open, back arching off the chair as everything in you clenches.

The tight grip you have on his cock and the scream of his name as you cum is all it takes to drive him into his own climax, removing his cock from the warm confines of your pussy to cum all over your bare stomach with a deep moan of your name.

Your grips loosen, his head falling to rest on your chest as your legs fall to his sides. Heavy breaths and chests heaving as you recoup from your highs.

“Shit. If this is what I have to do to use your pool… I’ll be here all summer.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #neighbor!eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem reader

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httpdwaekki · 2 months

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skinship | s.c

summary: you thought changbin hated you, but that all changed one day when you showed on his doorstep, moments away from an anxiety attack.

wc: 1.8k

warnings: descriptions of an anxiety attack

a/n: happy binnie month! i'm so happy to be doing this not only for one of my favorite boy but with one of my favorite people @straykeedz ! please don't forget to check out bee and her half of binnie month! i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

(p.s. if u get the reference ily <3)

my library | bee's vers. | binnie month

please consider donating to this fundraiser!

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you didn’t think changbin hated you per say, however you did notice his hesitancy towards you, so that definitely didn’t make you think he liked you either.

you noticed he’d keep his distance when you would hang out with the boys and forget about skinship, he avoided you like the plague. you were a very touchy person, similar to felix, you tended to cling to your friends. so you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt your feelings even a little bit, especially because of how he clings to your other friends.

you brushed it off though, you know not everyone was going to like you but it stung a bit coming from changbin. truth be told you had a lil crush on him when you first met him but you had given up a while ago.

this changes one day however, you found yourself outside of the 3racha+hyune dorm, seconds away from an anxiety attack. you don’t remember how you made it to the building but you knock regardless hoping anyone but changbin would open the door.

luck was not on your side as the rapper opens the door, coming face to face with your panicked expression. “h-hi-“ quickly wiping your tears, attempting to plaster a small smile on your face. “sorry- is chan home?” you were fiddling with the hem of your shirt, attempting to calm yourself long enough to get to your best friend.

“no he’s at the studio- are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. “yeah! sorry to bother you, i’ll just go to the studio, sorry again!” you say quickly, turning around to make a quick exit.

“hey wait, are you okay?” he steps out, grabbing your wrist, stopping you.

you pause, attempting to collect yourself, “yeah, i just need to find chan.” you go to leave again, his grip tightens slightly. “please let me go.” you whisper, a lump forming in your throat, as you focus on the concrete below your shoes.

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he starts panicking, never had he seen you so distraught. you were usually a ray of sunshine, kind-hearted and smiley, but this- this sent a shock to his core and he knows he can’t let you leave.

he moves in front of you, going to grab your other arm when your head whips up as his hand makes contact with your skin. your eyes are wide and full of panic, unshed tears line them as the panic took over your body.

your reaction has him dropping your wrists immediately. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry, i just want to help.” his voice soft, as if he were speaking to a scared animal.

“can i help you? please, i don’t want you driving like this, it’s not safe.” he explains gently, holding out his hand, trying not to let his panic show. “no- it’s okay, i’m sorry to bother you.” you plaster a fake smile on your face as you stumble backwards, changbin catching you before you could fall. he wraps his arms around your middle before pulling your back to him.

“i’m sorry, i’m just gonna go.” you attempt to free yourself from his arms, feeling the anxiety building in your chest, weighing down on you with each passing second.

“y/n.” his voice stern as he tightens his hold, keeping you in your place. you freeze, locking eyes with the floor, refusing to look at him.

“please,” he begs softly, “let me help you.”

your facade breaks. your knees weaken as sobs wreck your body, changbin tightens his grip, pulling you closer to him. once you regain your footing, he circles around you pulling you into him once more.

you become inconsolable as your arms wrap tightly around him, shoving your face into his neck. “i’m sorry-” he cuts you off with a gentle shush. “don’t apologize. you’re okay.” he rubs soothing strokes on your back as you calm down.

once your breathing was semi-normal he pulls away, almost missing the pain that flashes in your eyes. almost. “come on, let’s get you inside.” he grabs your hand, carefully pulling you into the home.

he leads you to the couch, “sit.” you didn’t know what came over you but as he pulled away your gripped on his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

your eyes wide, gasping softly, “i’m sorry!” quickly releasing his hand. “oh my god, i’m so sorry, i don’t know why i did that.” you suddenly realize the reality of the situation, it washes over you like a wave of cold water. you get up and make your way to the door. “i-i’m so sorry changbin-” you feel your chest tighten, the grips of your anxiety tighten with each passing second.

all you could focus on was getting out of here as quick as possible. but changbin wasn’t letting that happen.

he panics and all he can think about is calming you down, so he did the one thing he can think of. he grabs your wrist once again, turning you to him placing his lips on yours. you freeze before melting into him, placing your hand on his hip, him placing his free hand to your cheek.

once he felt you relax he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. both of you taking a moment to catch your breath.

“why did you do that?” you whispered, still not moving. “uh, i read somewhere that if you hold your breath, you could stop a panic attack.” he pauses, taking a breath. “so when i kissed you, you held your breath.” you nod, pulling away slightly, still processing the fact that he just kissed you.

“oh, that’s really smart.” he nods with a shy smile. you quickly realize you’re still holding on to him, pulling away quickly, “oh!” you backed away slightly. “sorry-” you clear your throat, “thank you,” you make a circle motion between the two of you, “for that.” you smile shyly.

“uh yeah, anytime.” your cheeks warm as a light pink brushes his. you both stand there for a bit before you speak. “can i ask you something?” you ask suddenly, causing him to look to you.

“yeah anything.” he says, prompting you to continue. you hesitate, “do i make you uncomfortable?” you ask quietly, fiddling with your shirt once more. you glance towards him, catching the confusion on his face.

“no not at all,” he furrows his brows, “why would you think that?” he wants to move towards you but he hesitates.

“i’ve just noticed, you just always seem,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “i guess, closed off? like you’re really open with everyone else but with me you always seem to avoid me a bit.” you can see him processing the information but the lack of response was making you panic a bit.

“well! i guess not avoid but like kinda closed off? which would make sense because you’ve known everyone a lot longer than me but you just always hug everyone and then kinda just avoid me, which is fine! totally okay! i just-” he cuts you off with a kiss.

while your rambling was super cute, he couldn’t watch the panic again. his hands on your cheeks once more, he waits for you to relax into him before he pulls away.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers out of breath, “you’re just so cute when you ramble.” you let out a breath as you smile. you place your hands on his wrists, keeping his hands on your skin, basking in the closeness of each other.

a few moments of silence pass before he moves to kiss your forehead, bringing you into him. he wraps his arms around you before he speaks, “you don’t make me uncomfortable, and i certainly wasn’t avoiding you on purpose.” he pauses as you wrap your arms around him.

“i’m so sorry i made you feel that way, i just didn’t know how to approach you.” you tighten your arms around him as he speaks. “i now see i had nothing to worry about huh?” you giggle, shaking your head before pulling away.

“i don’t know if you could tell but i like you, i have for a while but i thought i made you uncomfortable so i kept my distance.” you say looking into his eyes, his coming up to rest on your soft cheek once more.

“not at all, i’m sorry i made you feel this way.” he says, eyes sorrowful. you give him a shy smile, “it’s okay, i’m glad i know why now.” you place a quick peck to his lips, as if it was a seal of confirmation.

he gives you one in return but that quickly became many more… all over your face. you squeal as he continues his attacks, “bin! okay okay, mercy mercy!” he giggles stopping his targeted attacks before quickly picking you up, pulling a noise of surprise from you.

you quickly wrap your arms around him, “where are you taking me?” you giggle as he walks through the dorm, taking you along for the ride. “i’m taking my girlfriend to my room to cuddle because she was having a rough day.” he states proudly, planting a big kiss to your kiss as he enters his room.

“your girlfriend huh? not even gonna ask me?” you tease as he lays you on his bed. “i figured the two passionate kisses and the other kiss attack was enough to solidify that.” he shrugs, looking down at you.

you take a moment to ‘think’. “yeah that’s pretty fair.” you nod, giving him a cheeky smile. he gives you a big kiss before deciding to lay on top of you. “oof!” you giggle as he settles his weight on you.

you look down to find his boba eyes staring back at you, big grin plastered on his face. “move up more, what are you doing all the way down there?” you give him a teasing smile, as he realizes what you meant.

“yah! you’re not allowed to tease me any more.” he whines as he moves up, closer to you. “oh no?” you wrap your arms around him and he lays down once more. “says who?” he nuzzles his head into your neck before relaxing. “says me.” you can’t see his face but you know he’s pouting regardless.

“okay, i’m sorry bub.” you giggle placing a kiss to his hair. what you don’t see is the light blush that dusts his soft cheeks at the pet name. another moment of silence passes, “i’m glad you answered the door.” you say softly.

he lifts his head to look at you, small smile on his face. “me too.” he places one more kiss to your lips before melting back into you where you both fell asleep, smile gracing both of your lips.

this doesn’t last long before hyunjin and han both wake you up with their surprised screams when they find you two.

#seo changbin #changbin #changbin x reader #changbin fic #changbin oneshot #changbin fluff #changbin imagine #changbin drabble #stray kids #stray kids drabble #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids one shot #ash's archive ‧₊˚✩彡

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sun-snatcher · 1 month

Note

If you're writing for dp3 then Hiraeth from your prompt list would work SO well since they're all stuck in the void! 🤲🏽😭 We need Gambit fics its a DROUGHT HELP

♧ ⎯ LUCK O’ THE DRAW !

summ. You find the Devil himself at the end of the world. Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time you have. It is, however, the first time it hurts. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established relationship. Kinda. Multiverse be funky like 'dat.) w.count. 1.8k a/n. Because Channing deserved that Gambit all those years ago, and I've come to (attempt to) deliver what the the people have asked. Masterlist here.

MOST PEOPLE MEET THE DEVIL at a crossroads, but you meet yours in— quite literally— the back end of fuckin’ nowhere.

It hurt more than it should.

Your heart practically stutters.

“Remy.”

Then he turns, and you wait for the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing comes.

And then. And then.

Realisation— logic. The cold, hard truth: This isn’t your Remy LeBeau. Your Remy had died long before, in a Universe that was pruned and erased into nothingness by the TVA. Your Universe. The joke? That the Gambit before you is merely a variant amongst a million. The punchline? He looks exactly the same as the day you’d lost your own.

“Well, this is awkward. You know off-shoot Hawkeye here?” Wade says, astonished, before his eyes widened. “Ah. Tragic exposition time for the readers, I see.”

Your mind is still reeling. It feels like someone’s just jammed a chisel straight into your gut. “I— Knew a version. Variant, I guess,” you manage to correct yourself, distracted by the skirting trenchcoat and the all too familiar sound of shuffling cards.

Christ, it’s like he’d stepped right out of your memories.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies you. Something in your chest pulls taut, threatening to snap as he speaks. “Apologies, mon ami. But as far as I remember, I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Ouch,” Wade winces, looking between you both. “What a classic trope! This is like, me talking to my past Mom in The Adam Project. Funnily enough, my Mom was you!” He snorts, pointing to Elektra.

You ignore Wade and offer Remy a wan smile. “I figured. It’s okay.”

…It is obviously, in fact, not okay.

You avoid him like a plague shortly after the entire commotion; it’s almost comical. Wade had managed to come up with a plan with the rest of the group, albeit a ramshackle, flimsy one, but you’ve hardly been able to pay attention through the bloodrush of shock rocketing in your head, anyway.

Being around this Remy is stunningly stifling.

The lilt of his accent, the sharpness in his smile; the flourishing of cards and the faint hum-drum of kinetic charge against his fingertips.

You’ve seen it all before, once upon a time. You never thought any of it could ever bring you to this bad of a heel.

It hadn’t taken long before you’d tried drowning yourself at the end of a bottle of brandy Logan had handed you that night. (The whiskey tames his mordance and makes him uncharacteristically civil. He’d said something along the lines of: Y’need this more than I do, bub; look like you’ve just seen a fuckin’ ghost. Shit, I guess you did, huh? )

“Mais la,” comes a huff. “Ain’t that mine?”

A frisson runs through your heart.

“Sorry,” you say, barely glancing up from the barrel fire tucked outside the team’s hideout. You’re not quite sure you can handle meeting his gaze. “I know I should’ve asked.”

A playful hum. Remy settles on the log adjacent to yours. “S’alright. No harm done, chèr.”

It takes everything in you not to flinch at the endearment. If he’d noticed, well— he’s smart enough not to mention it. He’s curious and it stands to reason; afterall, he’s never quite seen someone look at him as weathered as the way you do. It’s as if the effort itself to do so would be unbearable.

“Y’kno’, I been told I’m easy on the eyes. Not for you, tho’, eh?” Remy shoots you an amicable smile. It’s charming, if a little compelling. “Guessin’ I made bad on you where y’from? You done been boudéin’ since y’first got here.”

You let out a laugh. It’s the most brittle sound he’s ever heard come from someone.

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s… You just make me a lil’ homesick, is all.”

Remy bristles with his deck of cards. A Charlier cut; a One-handed shuffle. It’s a mindless tic; your variant used to do the exact same with the exact same ease.

(Such a miracle, you remember thinking once, that there could be symmetries in the Multiverse. Now you learn, perhaps, it’s far more a curse. Either way, you can hear Remy’s doting voice in a distant memory, dimpling coyly at you: “S’just the luck o’ your draw, chèr.” )

You tamp down the memory before it could sink its jowls any deeper in you.

“You’re curious,” you say.

He makes a noise of assent. Revolution cut; One-handed shuffle. Repeat.

“I ain’t gon’ axe if y’ain’t wanna answer.”

It’s kind of him.

You forgot he was like this.

Witty, yet gentlemanly. The way Remy always has been.

Underneath the blanket of the night, the crackle of the flames limn the planes of his face in flickering, hazy saffron. The look in his eyes is sincere as they meet your red-rimmed gaze. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, and in this light no less: tall, cutting, strong.

Lively.

The last you’d seen Remy, he’d been drawn out and battered by the war. Not that he’d ever admit it; he always insisted on keeping up his sunny disposition despite the constant losing battles happening. (Sometimes you think you resent him for doing that; it’d felt like he’d taken the light of the world with him when—)

You thank your lucky stars the variant Remy doesn’t make a comment on how you must be staring so openly. It’s a feeble attempt to committing every detail to memory, you suppose, in case you don’t get the chance again.

“In my Universe, a war was waging against mutants.” Your nails tinker against the empty bottleneck of the flat whiskey you’d nursed, thinking of how to cut a bloodshed of a story short; to get your point across before you falter and lose your footing.

“There was a mission sanctioned, and during it— a decision had to be made at that moment. So… you chose. Easily.” Your brows pinch tight against your will. The molten burn returns to the back of your eyes. “You saved so many lives the day you died.”

Something catches in your throat when you realise your mistake, find yourself amending instantly, “He. He died.”

(It had been swift. A small mercy, all things considered. There wasn’t even a need to check for a pulse when you finally managed to reach for him.)

You’re fidgeting, too, with something in your other hand. Remy catches sight of it only now: a card, sitting pinched between your ringed fingers. Nine of Hearts. Its edges are torn and creased across the face, singed an ashen black.

A proverbial piece of Remy’s heart, carried to the end with you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a cold rush over his body at the sight.

“…I’m sorry, chèr,” he offers quietly, inadequate as it is. He hadn’t expected that.

He can’t imagine how haunting it must be to look at someone you’d shared a lifetime with and be met with a complete stranger instead.

A living, breathing, ghost.

That unbiddable feeling of longing had always seemed to accompany the sight of him; but now it’s different. Now, there’s a blistering, brutal pain to come with; All-encompassing grief, thick as molasses in your lungs, overturning itself like a phantom from wherever you thought you’d buried it a long time ago.

The only way to smother it would be to reach out, to hold him like you had once before, and isn’t that an ironic inconvenience?

“No, no. I’m sorry,” you tell him, sigh coming out as an awkward laugh. A breeze passes and you inhale deep to ground yourself. Press your eyes shut momentarily to will away useless tears. “It must be so weird to hear all of this from me about— well, you, technically.”

“Mais, can’t ‘ave all been a bad memory, tho’, right?”

Right. No. It hadn’t been. There’s something else too. An undercurrent. Beyond the grief, the deep ache in your marrows— you think it’s nostalgia. Hiraeth. More bittersweet than it is painful.

It’s… It’s watching mutant schoolkids teaching him UNO for the first time. It’s the bickering over the beignets for breakfast, or your feet on his lap at the couch in the lounge after dinners with the rest of the X-Men. Lazy banter. Conversations that go everywhere and nowhere.

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something bloom in your chest you thought long lost. “You taught me everything about your home, too. Down South. Told me about the bayou, the cypress trees. Your Cajun, your ways. We used to play Bourré.”

Talk of home has him ducking into a laugh. Remy had been in the Void far longer than the rest (he figures, at least)— he’s very nearly lost most of his fragmented memories to time by now. “Did I? Oughta’ play a game or two wit’ you.”

You buckle at that. “Ah. You were always the better player.”

Then:

He makes the leap before he runs out of steam. “Was we…?”

His finger darts between the space you two share.

“Oh, no,” you override, sheepishly. “No, we, we were good friends and stayed good friends. I was—” Your breath scurries; a reconsideration. “I was glad with that. You had a Southern belle named Anna Marie. A powerful mutant called Rogue. You two were good for each other.”

You must have given yourself away somewhere, though, the way Remy is reading you with a pinned gaze. It’s the same, levelled look you’ve seen before— the kind he gets in a game of cards.

Something discerning eclipses in his eyes.

He’d gotten the measure of you in an instant.

“Gambit musta’ been blind blind not t’see you.”

Ah.

You smile. It’s windswept. Resigned. “Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? My Gambit’s gone. No matter how much I wish I can see him again.”

Remy’s eyes dart to your hands.

“Y’kno’, chèr,” he begins, something spirited in his tone. “In the world of cards, each a’ these and they suits hold a meanin’.”

He flourishes his deck, hypnotisingly smooth with every elegant cut, fan and spring. Every shuffle cascades as smooth as liquid in the sleight of his hands.

“Some of my folks back in New Orleans I remember, they learned me to read ‘em. Now, outta the whole deck? What you got there; the Nine of Hearts is also called the Wish card.”

The small laugh that punches out of you is bell-like. “Really?”

It’s warm. Bright. Musical to his ears. It washes over him, and he can’t help but hang on to the peal. He wanted to hear it again.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Remy clicks his tongue as he shoots you a sunny look. “Would never lie t’you, chèr.”

The cracks in your soul don’t disappear, but they surely lighten as you look gently at him. “Huh. Well, I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?”

He chuckles.

“Mais, I ain’t your Gambit but—”

He leans. Reaches out behind your ear with an empty palm, playfully revealing a gilded card from seemingly thin air with a sharp flick of his wrist:

Another Nine of Hearts. His. He hands it over to you, by way of meaning— I’m here, now.

New beginnings.

You take the card with a smile.

#**Cajun footnotes (if I've educated myself correctly):#'boudé' means '-to pout' | 'mais/mais la' is used like 'well..' | & Bourré is a local Louisiana card game!#Louisiana/Cajun friends please do leave a comment/critique! All my knowledge has been scraped off the internet & Tiktok 😭#Okay but in all honestly writing for Gambit is a TREAT #OBSESSED with the quip of his lingo and had so much fun learning about his culture!#also. Deadpool breaking Tumblr 4th-wall is hilarious to me please don't judge me for that #please do drop your thoughts!#Requests are open folks!#gambit #WELUCKYFEW #gambit imagine #xmen #deadpool & wolverine #xmen imagine #gambit x you #gambit x reader #gambit x y/n #gambit x oc #gambit fic #d&w #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #remy leabeau imagine #remy lebeau x you #remy lebeau x y/n #remy lebeau x oc #deadpool #deadpool 3 #dp3 #🪷 ; wishing well

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angelfic · 7 months

Text

— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you haven’t seen theo since he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.

warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad

author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo

12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.

Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.

“You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”

You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”

“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”

A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.

You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”

Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.

“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.

Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”

“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.

“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”

Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”

“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”

The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.

You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.

“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.

“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”

“Yep.”

Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.

“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.

You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”

“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”

You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.

Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”

You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.

“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”

You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.

Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”

“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.

Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“I should go and deck him in the face.”

Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.

Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.

Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.

“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”

“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.

He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”

“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.

“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”

He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room

You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.

You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“

You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.

As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.

You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.

Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.

“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”

“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.

Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.

“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”

“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.

You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.

You immediately step back.

Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.

Good, you think viciously.

Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.

You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”

“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.

Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.

“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.

Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”

Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.

You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.

“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”

The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.

Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.

“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.

“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”

Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”

“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”

“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.

Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”

You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”

You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.

The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.

Sort of.

He isn’t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.

It’s starting to unnerve you a little.

One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.

Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.

“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.

“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.

Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”

“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.

“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.

You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.

When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.

The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.

“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.

“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.

Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?

The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.

Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”

“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”

“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.

He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.

The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”

Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”

“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”

“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”

Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”

“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”

“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.

You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”

“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”

You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”

“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.

“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”

“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”

You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.

He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”

Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead

“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”

“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”

You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.

“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.

“Uhm, okay. Bye,�� you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”

He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”

“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”

Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.

“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”

You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”

Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.

You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.

After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.

You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.

“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.

“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”

You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”

Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.

As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.

As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.

At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.

But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.

It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.

He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.

“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”

“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”

“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.

“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”

“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”

“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.

“Sorry-”

“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.

His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.

“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”

Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.

The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.

“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.

“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”

You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.

“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”

“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.

“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”

Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”

“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”

You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.

Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”

You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”

“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”

Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”

“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.

“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”

You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.

“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.

“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”

“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”

You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.

You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.

Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.

“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”

You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”

“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”

“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott smut #theodore nott

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ddarker-dreams · 2 months

Text

Understatement.

Wanderer x Reader.

Warnings: None. Word count: 1.2k.

Your bag carries plenty of essentials.

Stationery, lip balm, keys to your apartment; stuff of that nature. Then there’s your personal favorite, a wallet embroidered with dandelions — your hometown’s flower — into the fabric. It’d been sent to you without a return address on your birthday, shrouding the gifter in mystery. All of these items accompany you on a day-to-day basis.

That aside, this list has another unifying factor. Each object is inert. Completely still. Incapable of moving without an outside force. Now, this isn’t a revelation that’ll shift society and be recorded in history books for generations to come. It’s common sense. A concept children grasp before they even know what ‘gravity’ is.

As for why you’re taking a lengthy mental inventory of your belongings…

Well.

Something in there is moving. Rustling about, the vague outline of its body pressing against the aged leather.

Your response is slow. Cautious. You begin by pushing yourself away from your desk, creating distance between you and this potential threat. The Vision fastened along your waistband thrums, ready to act. Numerous theories whir around your mind like a sandstorm. Is this a prank in poor taste? Cyno had mentioned an investigation into scarabs being placed in student’s bags, although nothing serious had come from it. Maybe it’s a gadget or some elemental reaction—

—Your cognition grinds to a halt when a head pokes out, undoing the bag’s clasp in the process.

…

“Oh!” The creature exclaims while freeing itself. “Um… hi!”

The room’s natural lighting gives you a better idea of the creature’s appearance. Its wings keep it suspended midair, each enthusiastic flap scattering your notes. Large, doe-like eyes consider you, gleaming with childlike curiosity. If not for the prominent horns atop its head, you might think it’s a bat, but that classification doesn’t quite fit.

Whatever it is, you sense no hostility.

“Hello,” is your hesitant reply.

It looks around, fixating on the items displaced from your desk.

“Ack, I’m sorry,” it apologizes. It lands carefully on your desk and lowers its head, as if ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I’ve just been excited to meet you.”

“Don’t worry, this is nothing. I’ve been meaning to reorganize my stuff, anyway.”

For some reason, you can’t find it within you to fault this seemingly well-meaning yet clumsy guest. Its naivete is reminiscent of a certain explosion-obsessed girl from back home. In truth, this entire ordeal doesn’t even breach the top five strangest experiences you’ve had in recent times.

… Alright, perhaps it’s a contender for the fourth slot.

Suddenly, your guest straightens up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced myself yet. We can’t be friends if I haven’t introduced myself… you can call me Mini Durin. And I already know your name. You’re [First].”

“Yeah, that’d be me,” you cover a budding smile with your hand, not wanting your giddy guest to mistake it for mockery. “So, Mini Durin… you said you’ve been wanting to meet me? Why’s that?”

Mini Durin ambles his way toward the edge of your desk.

“You’re important to my first friend,” he declares. “At least I think so. He only has the nicest things to say about you, like how you’re not ‘as insufferable as most,’ and that ‘your presence is tolerable.’”

That’s what Mini Durin considers ‘the nicest things’ to say about someone…?!

The conviction with which he speaks affirms his sincerity.

“It sounds like you trust this friend a great deal.”

Mini Durin nods. “I do. That’s how I ended up in your bag… I got separated from him earlier. Luckily, I spotted you. I knew you’d keep me safe. And now we even get to be friends!”

That explains why your bag felt heavier coming home than when you left.

“You got separated from him?” Frowning, you scoot your chair closer. “Where at? We can go looking for him, if you want. He must be worried.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”

Mini Durin mulls over your offer for a few seconds, adding, “What if he’s mad at me? He was working hard on another gift for you, but I went and distracted him.”

“Friends can sort stuff like this out,” you reassure. Then, a pause. “Huh. Did you say ‘another gift?’”

Mini Durin tilts his head. “You didn’t know? The pretty flowers on your—”

A rapid knock on your door cuts him off.

You both turn your attention toward the booming sound. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. It’s late in the evening, who in their right mind would treat your front door like a drum? You shoot your unexpected guest an apologetic look, promising a swift return.

Some choice words sizzle on your tongue as you swing the door open, only to be met by an equally irate figure.

Your eccentric classmate, the Wanderer, stands before you. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks like he’s been physically exerting himself. The telltale sign of Anemo settles down around him, his hat reappearing in the process. He soon mirrors your exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, the other readjusting the brim of his hat.

“I could’ve flown to Inazuma and back in the time it took you to answer,” is the courteous greeting he goes for.

“Hello to you too,” you greet. “Was there something you needed? Or are you just making your debut as a percussionist known to the entire nation?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s something I ‘need’, genius.”

“And what would that be?”

“I’m looking for a small, talking dragon,” the Wanderer deadpans. “Ring any bells?”

You blink. “Are you referring to Mini Durin?”

“Just how many dragons are you acquainted with?”

“I mean, I am from Mondstadt,” you shrug. A realization then creeps up on you. “Hold on. Does that make you this ‘first friend’ I’ve heard so much about?”

The Wanderer freezes. You observe as he processes this information in real-time, along with the implications that come with it. Though his muscles are tense, he keeps his visage impassive. The occasional twitch of his eye is the only detail betraying his panic.

“... On second thought, you can keep him.”

He swivels on his heel to make a hasty retreat.

You lurch forward without thinking, your hand latching around his wrist. He snaps his head around to meet your gaze, almost knocking you over with his hat in the process. A well-timed dodge protects you from the potential headache. In the light of the setting sun, the Wanderer’s porcelain complexion is dyed in crimson hues. Though he’s maintaining eye contact, something tells you it’s a struggle.

“Hey,” you use your free hand to poke his flushed cheeks, to which he grimaces and bats at it like a cat. “Come inside. I’ll make up some of that awful, bitter tasting tea you like.”

He inhales through his teeth, likely weighing various excuses. You bat your eyelashes and offer your brightest smile. As the seconds pass by, you can feel his resolve weakening. With a scoff, he frees himself from your grasp, the ease in which he does so confirming he’d been your willing hostage.

The Wanderer wordlessly strolls past you and into your home.

Humming, you follow close behind him.

Just ‘tolerable’, huh?

#i wove him #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche brainrot #my stuff

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runawrites-blog · 6 months

Text

What A Pretty Necklace (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: A slip-up leads you and Bucky to discover a new kink to share. Another slip-up gives the other Avengers a bit too much insight into your relationship with him. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,346 Warnings: SMUT (Minors do not interact), Explicit Sexual Content, Choking, Fingering, Kink Negotiation, Teasing, Gentle!Dom!Bucky, No Y/N, Petnames (Doll, Sweetheart) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54614755 A/N: From sweet fluff to this, I guess. If you're not of age, do not interact with this or read it, thank you!

---

“What a pretty necklace.”

Bucky stilled at your words, lowering the towel he’d been using to dry his left hand after the two of you had gotten out of the shower, and you felt your face heat up as you realised you’d said your thoughts out loud. But before you could backpaddle he turned to you with a small smirk on his lips that sent shivers down your spine.

“A pretty necklace you say, Doll?” He teased, eyes raking up your towel-clad body and stopping at your neck. “Would you be up to wearing it then?”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” You mumbled, averting his eyes as you felt your cheeks growing hot. “It just slipped out, I swear.”

Bucky just chuckled at that and came closer to you, crowding you against the sink to press a soft kiss to your lips, parting quickly to speak to you. “I may be teasing you, Doll, but I can’t say that I’m not intrigued. Have you thought about this before?”

You nodded slowly, daring to look up at him to find his eyes half-lidded and his lower lip between his teeth as he waited for your answer, and you couldn’t help but confess the truth. “I have. When I see you fight with the arm, when I see you clean it, when I see you do anything with it, I can’t help but imagine how it would feel on my throat.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I kept quiet. I’m sorry if it’s weird and we obviously don’t have to do anything--”

Bucky cut you off with a kiss and you felt your worries melting away as he pulled you close, knowing that if he was kissing you like this it meant he wasn’t upset. Wrapping your arms around him you leaned into the kiss just for him to pull back again.

“I’m not uncomfortable at all.” He said softly, keeping his forehead against yours as his smile turned into a smirk. “And I’d be willing to try.”

“Try?” You asked in surprise, not having expected him to be into this idea at all. “You’d be willing to try breathplay? To choke me? Are you sure?”

“I am. It’s very intriguing, for a lack of better word.” Bucky said, pulling you a little closer to his body, his chest against yours, your bodies only separated by the towels you two were still wearing. “But before we do anything we need to talk about it.”

“Of course.” You nodded quickly, looking up at him before smiling softly. “First, I want you to know that I trust you not to hurt me. The trust is a big part of the reason I’m interested in this.”

Bucky leaned down to kiss your temple gently. “I know that you trust me, Doll. And I am so thankful for your trust. But that is precisely why we need some ground rules if you want me to choke you.”

You willed away the shivers his last words brought on and nodded. “I’ve read up on safe choking before. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to put pressure on the oesophagus or anything like that but rather on the sides of the neck, just below the jaw, to cut off oxygen supply to the brain. And obviously, you’re supposed to be careful because the throat and neck are pretty sensitive places.”

“You’ve really put research into this.” Bucky chuckled lowly before he nodded at you. “But yes, I have looked into it once or twice and I did read that, too.”

“You’ve looked into it, too?”

“As I said, it’s intriguing.” His hand came up to cup your cheek, giving you a serious look. “We also need a verbal and nonverbal safeword.”

“Three taps against your shoulder?” You asked and Bucky nodded in agreement to which you placed your hands on his chest, running your fingers along his exposed skin. “Good, and can’t we use our usual safeword?”

Bucky nodded once more, pressing closer to you. “Need you to say it to me again, Doll.”

“Redwing.”

“Good girl.” He praised and you couldn’t quite keep the shivers from running down your spine anymore. “I will check in on you throughout it to make sure you’re alright and I need you to tell me, based on the traffic light system, how you’re doing. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His praise made your face flush even more but you could tell that he wasn’t finished so you kept listening. “And I need you to tell me if anything feels off, alright?”

“I will.” You said, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek as you pecked his lips. “I trust you.”

“I trust you, too.”

With that, he leaned in to kiss you and you were quick to wrap your arms around his neck, reciprocating. When he picked you up, you squeaked in surprise but didn’t protest as he carried you to the bedroom and simply wrapped your legs around his middle. Once in the bedroom he placed you on your bed and crawled over you, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he watched you panting in anticipation and he was quick to discard your towels to get you two naked. When his fingers slipped down to the heat between your legs he gave a low chuckle.

“Already so wet for me, Doll? Just talking about me choking you gets you this worked up?” Bucky whispered teasingly, the thumb of his metal hand starting to gently rub your clit as he brought his head down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Think you can take my fingers already? I know you don’t just want my metal fingers around your neck. You love them inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, please.” You gasped, grinding your core against the pressure of his thumb, hands coming up to scramble for purchase against his back. “Please, please, Bucky.”

“Anything you want, Doll.”

With that, he plunged his middle and ring finger into you, leaving you gasping at the intrusion, before he began to move them in and out of you. The movements of his fingers and his thumb still against your clit tore gasps and moans from your lips.

“Good girl, taking my fingers so well.”

“Please, Bucky.” You gasped out as he kept up his movements, making arousal coil in your belly. “I need you, I’m so wet for you. Need you so bad. Need your hand on my neck.”

Bucky leaned down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, coming close enough for you to feel his hardened length against your thigh as he kept moving his fingers, thumb circling your clit. Then all of sudden Bucky pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss.

“Just a moment, Doll. I’ll take good care of you.”

His voice was gentle as he lined himself up with your entrance as you panted in anticipation, fingers digging into his back when he finally entered you, moaning deeply at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. Your moans spurred him back into action and he built up a slow rhythm as he brought his left hand up to your throat, the right one next to your head to stabilise himself.

“Still sure about this, Doll?”

“Please, choke me.”

His grip on your neck tightened, thumb and fingers pressing into the sides of your neck, just below your jawline and you gasped at the pressure. Bucky’s eyes scanned you for any signs of discomfort as your own fluttered shut, nails digging into his back and legs crossing behind his body to get him closer to you.

“Doing so good for me, Doll.” He whispered out, keeping the pressure against your neck as he picked up the speed of his thrusts. “You look so pretty like this, with my hand around your neck, like you were made for it.”

You couldn’t speak anymore, too lost in the pleasure of these combined sensations, of his dick moving inside of you, his words of praise and his hand around your throat. It didn’t take long for your head to feel fuzzy from the lack of oxygen and you felt your pleasure peaking, these new sensations sending you hurtling toward your climax quicker than you had anticipated. Bucky’s grip only our neck loosening brought you back to reality and you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Still good, Sweetheart?” Bucky asked softly as he examined your face for any signs of distress. “Can you give me a colour?”

You answered quickly, bringing a hand down from his back to place on his cheek. “Green.”

“Good.”

Before you even had the chance to react, the pressure on your neck was back and his thrusts were picking up again, leaving you a breathless mess beneath him. You had half the mind to realise that he was also nearing orgasm by the way his thrusts faltered every now and then, but you couldn’t think of it for too long as you lost yourself in pleasure.

“Good girl.” He rambled on between his own moans, not really stringing sentences together properly anymore at this point. “So good for me, taking me so well. Looks so good when you’re this breathless for me, moaning like this.”

“I’m close.” You managed to rasp out as his thrusts picked up, making you groan softly. “Please, please.”

You didn’t quite know what you were begging for but Bucky seemed to have a pretty good grasp on what you needed to get over the edge. A slight change in angle brought along more stimulation on your clit and you gasped out in surprise, eyes rolling backwards as he slightly increased the pressure on your neck.

“That’s right, come for me. Be a good girl and come for me, Doll.”

You were tumbling over the edge before you knew it, back arching off the bed and moans spilling from your lips as you clenched around him, waves of pleasure rippling through you, only intensified by the lack of oxygen going to your head. Faintly, you registered Bucky spilling inside of you, your name falling from his lips in a breathless moan.

When you came down from your height his hand was already off your neck and you panted softly as you looked up at the ceiling. Bucky rolled off you and brought a hand up to cup your cheek, gently turning your head toward him. His hair was sticking to his forehead and he was breathing heavily as he checked you for any signs of discomfort.

“You did so good, Sweetheart. Are you feeling alright?” He asked softly, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “How’s your neck? I didn’t choke you too hard, did I?”

“I’m feeling great.” You whispered and turned to throw an arm around his body, seeking out his body and comfort. “I liked it and-- and you didn’t hurt me.”

Bucky simply nodded and pulled you close to his body, allowing you to rest your head against his chest where you listened to his slowing heartbeat as you both came down from your height. But he didn’t stay like this for long because a few minutes later, after giving you a moment to calm down, he reached over to grab the bottle you usually kept on your nightstand, uncapping it and scooting up to hold it out to you.

“You need to drink something, Sweetheart.” He said softly, holding the bottle to your lips and watching as you dutifully took a few deep sips. “Good job. You did so well. I love you.”

You pulled back from the bottle and gave him a small smile. “I love you, too.”

“What do you need right now?”

“You.”

“I can provide that.”

“Would be concerning if you couldn’t.”

He simply chuckled and pulled you close to his body, holding you as you sought out the comfort you needed at the moment. Your eyes grew heavy when he started stroking your hair gently, running his fingers through it and resting his head atop yours. Swallowing, you looked up at him, keeping your head against his shoulder.

“Please, don’t tell anyone I called your hand a pretty necklace.”

Bucky snorted at that and pulled back slightly to get a better look at you. “You mean I can’t use that fact instead of small talk at the SHIELD meeting tomorrow?”

“The team would never let me hear the end of it, especially Sam, Nat or Tony.” You joked softly as you looked back at him. “But it did make for a pretty nice necklace.”

“I have to agree. You looked so good with my hand around your neck.”

“I felt really good, too.” With a smile you cuddled back to him, arms wrapping around his body again. “I think we might need another shower but I don’t want to let go of you.”

“I could draw us a bath, so I can hold you some more.”

“Thank you so much. I love you.”

“It’s just a bath, no need to thank me.” Bucky said in amusement before pressing a gentle kiss to your head. “I love you, too.”

---

As you sat down for the meeting with Fury regarding a new mission the next day, taking the place next to Bucky, you found documents regarding the crime syndicate you’d all been hunting down for the past weeks already on the table. You skimmed through them, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. Steve sat down opposite you and the two of you greeted each other like you always did. You were just turning your head to talk to Bucky when Steve pointed at your neck.

“What a pretty necklace.”

You felt your face heating up as your head snapped to Steve before your eyes flickered to Bucky’s left hand and then back at the man to whom you’d been speaking. “What?”

“Your necklace is pretty. The one with the heart pendant that you’re wearing, I mean.” Steve said slowly, confusion clear on his face. “Why did you get so startled out of sudden?”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak but you were quicker, trying to divert the attention away from the obvious misunderstanding on your part before anyone could figure out what you’d thought Steve had meant. “I didn’t get startled.”

“You did.” Sam piped up, giving you a look of pure interest as he leaned back in his chair. “You got all flustered and embarrassed when Steve talked about your necklace.”

“And you immediately looked at Bucky.” Steve pointed out before his face contorted into a look of slight disgust and he shook his head quickly. “On second thought, I don’t want to know why you got so flustered. Whatever happened with or to that necklace is something I don’t need to know!”

“Nothing happened with it!” You exclaimed, face turning hot as both Sam and Steve stared at you, the former with a teasing smirk and the latter in slight disgust, all the while Tony tried to hold back his laughter. “It was a gift that Bucky got me for my last birthday and the pendant has a picture of him in it. I wear it all the time.”

“And you also do all sorts of weird things with it by the sound of it.” Tony grinned at you as you glared back at him and when Bucky once more tried to speak up he cut him off. “I don’t know where this necklace has been, Freezerburn, but I don’t think I want to know.”

“Freezerburn?” Bucky made a face and shook his head, bringing a finger up to indicate for Tony to be quiet. “First of all, don’t call me that ever again. Second of all, we did nothing nasty with that necklace, so drop it.”

“He’s right. She wasn’t even thinking of the actual necklace she’s wearing.”

You all turned to find Natasha in the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on her face as her eyes fixed on you. Clint was behind her and the confused look he gave her rivalled even the one on Steve’s face who by now seemed completely bewildered. Next to him, Tony had turned to you with an interested look while Sam was still smirking at you before he glanced back at the woman in the door.

“What do you mean, Natasha?”

“She did not look at Bucky. She looked at his left hand.”

Natasha had to dodge the pen you threw at her but that didn’t keep her from snickering while Clint tried to fill Wanda and Vision who had just arrived in on what was going on but was struggling to do so without bursting into laughter himself. Your face was burning by now and when you risked a glance at Bucky you found him also blushing furiously though he was still trying to play it off.

Sam took a few seconds to realise what Natasha had meant but when he did he gave Bucky a grin that made your partner glare back at him. “Your hand is her pretty necklace? Does it look that good around her neck?”

“Guys!” Steve exclaimed as understanding dawned on him before he gave Bucky a weirded-out look though you could clearly see the hint of amusement on his face. “I didn’t know that’s the kind of thing you two are into.”

“I think the arm looks like it was made for breathplay.”

You groaned out in embarrassment as Natasha teased you some more, letting your face fall into your hands. “Wanda, can you make the ground swallow me up, please?”

“Theoretically, yes.” The other woman chuckled softly as she sat down. “But wouldn’t that be a tad dramatic?”

While you shook your head, you felt Bucky place a comforting hand on your back. “Doll, I think Wanda’s right there. That does seem a tad dramatic.”

“Honestly, it’s sort of your fault for misunderstanding Steve so badly.” Tony commented, finally having gathered himself enough to speak again. “I mean, why would you assume he meant Bucky’s hand when he complimented your necklace?”

Vision chimed in on that, his voice even as he looked at Tony. “I assume you already know the answer as to why she misunderstood Steve that way, so why still ask?”

“Thank you, Vision.” You looked up before shaking your head at Tony. “It was an honest mistake, Tony!”

Before Tony could answer, Bucky spoke up, his hand still rubbing your back comfortingly. “I think you’ve teased us enough, Tony. She’s clearly uncomfortable, so could you stop?”

“Alright, I’ll stop.” The man said, holding up his hands in defeat but not before giving you a playful look. “But just for the record, your actual necklace is lovely, too.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled, nodding toward Bucky next to you. “As I said Bucky got it for my birthday and I love it.”

Steve gave you an apologetic smile before once more complimenting the necklace while you reached out to take Bucky’s free hand. He gave yours a gentle squeeze and when you turned you found him giving you a look that seemed somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

“And you worried that I would tell anyone here about you calling my hand a pretty necklace.”

“It was a mistake.” You defended yourself weakly, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you, Doll.” Bucky said and when you looked up at him again he was smiling back at you. “Just maybe for the future, don’t jump to conclusions too quickly.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

While Bucky leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, parting quickly to give you a comforting smile, everyone else settled down in the seats, waiting for Fury to arrive. But the meeting didn’t start without one more teasing comment from Tony which earned him everyone else’s laughter, you flicking him off and Bucky glaring at him.

“Friday, remind me to craft a necklace that looks like Bucky’s hand for her next birthday.”

#fanfiction #textpost #writing #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dom!bucky #smut #my writing

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