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moonlitmeeks · 3 years

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being friends with the marauders whilst dating remus lupin !

type; headcanons

warnings; v brief food mentions

request; hey! how you doing?? i was wondering if you could do some platonic headcanons of the marauders and maybe the love interest is remus, have a good day! love your work<3 - anon

a/n; hi! i’m good thank u - i hope you are too!! id love to omg,, have the best day!! thank u sm that means the world <3 i hope you like these! i'm testing out a new format and i like how much more detailed it makes these?

the marauders were famous for two things

- the insane amounts of chaos that they brought to the corridors of hogwarts

- and the undeniable strength of their friendship

so in becoming their friends, you knew you wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon

- you were part of their little group, a gathering of five whom brought endless excitement and laughter

- it's literally never a dull day in their company

i feel like i really need to talk about the sorting ceremony, as it's kind of the only event you really need to sit within your houses

- if you're in gryffindor? brilliant. spectacular. you'd sit with them every year and try to guess which house each first year is sorted into.

- peter is scarily good at guessing, he claims he can sense people's vibes before he meets them

- if you aren't in gryffindor, it's not a problem. they'd sneak you onto their table, donned in one of their spare robes and tie so you blend in more

- if anyone was to bring it up, they'd just pretend they had no idea what the other person was talking about

- and if minnie just so happened to miss you wedged between remus and peter? well, then it is what it is.

- other times though, like meals or study sessions, you're always seated with each other

classes together goes just as well as you'd expect

- you've since been banned from partnering with sirius in potions, him having caused one too many explosions for slughorn's liking whenever the two of you were together

- getting told off for talking is just a daily occurrence

- but you and remus have mastered the perfect note passing technique. it's totally foolproof, you haven't been caught once.

- (this comes in handy when you later start dating and want to pass cute love letters back and forth)

you're always welcome in their dorm room, either for a minute or the whole night

- james would be the one frantically cleaning away their mess whilst sirius teased him, because "y/n already knows what we're like, prongs, stop trying to impress them"

- anyways. on the occasions that you would spend the night there, there was the problem of where you would sleep

- there was no way they'd let you sleep on the ground but also. they aren't really about to give up their beds any time soon. so the solution? share a bed of course!

- the first time this happened, you were put with remus, who didn't seem too phased by it

- wrong. this boy was sweating buckets at the thought of you being so close to him in such an intimate and domestic setting

- you'd gone to bed with a pillow barrier, backs turned to one another. but, when you'd woken up, you found the pillows tossed onto the floor and an arm wrapped around your middle

- the other three never let you hear the end of it

though, maybe it was for the best as, sure enough, in your fourth year, you and remus start going out!

- sirius does moan on about dating inside of the group, but he doesn't mean any of it. he just likes to be dramatic. secretly he's your number one fan.

- of course, james is ecstatic. we all know what he's like.

- peter is just so happy for you both, bless him

now, let's focus a little more on dating remus for a bit

- god, he's such a sweet boyfriend

- a lot of your nights end with you two curled up on a couch in the common room before the fire, one of you with your head on the other's chest whispering to one another

- this man has an abundance of jumpers. so go ahead and steal a few, he doesn't care. in fact, he loves it. so so much.

- you help him out as much as you can with his lycanthropy; not only on the actual full moon in your animagus form, but whenever he needs it. if his joints are aching, he has particularly bad injuries, migraines, anything. if you can help out, you will.

- he loves pressing kisses to your nose. that's it.

the dynamic of your group never changes though

- you still all sit together at breakfast, the only difference being remus's arm is now slung over your shoulder as you argue with james about stealing your slice of toast

- pranks are still pulled constantly, no change there. remus will just ensure you never get caught as much as he can. he'll hide you from a teacher's sight if he can. though, this did lead to filch asking him to "stop hiding y/n y/l/n, mr lupin"

- and you, remus, peter and sirius still sit in the stands at far too early in the morning to watch james's quidditch practice

the amount of teasing does increase ten fold, but honestly, you had to have expected that

- peter jokes you two are now the parents of their group, even though you're just as, if not more, irresponsible as they are

- sirius will walk in on you two simply cuddling and claim you need to 'get a room!'

- any time james is teased for his crush on lily, he'll always find a way to make a joke about you and remus, and how disgustingly in love you are

- it's never done out of malice though, obviously

dating remus lupin whilst being a part of the marauders is nice. it's chaotic and exciting, but also soft and sweet.

remus lupin my beloved <3 i rly hope you like this - i rly loved writing them!!!

remus lupin taglist; @thesilverskull @mendesxruel @lilgayn00dle @nightofthelivingpoet @apocketfullofstorms @bazpitchs-violin @neilfuckingperrydeservedbetter @transias @pagetpagetpagetpaget @adoreachilles @wlfstxr @cozyballofanxiety @matte-moony @d22malfoys @ms-heartbreak-queen @kirschtei4n @anderperrysupremacy

marauders era masterlist !

#becca's writing <3 #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin headcanons #remus lupin x you #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders headcanons #marauders x y/n

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paperbooart · 2 years

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hiii omg its so nice to see another person who likes togiri!! there is sooo little content of it its honestly devastating lol….id be rly interested to hear if you had any spare thoughts or hcs abt them (or naegirigami) :3 also your art is phenominal, i love your style and the way you portray everyone is soooo ….<333!

HEEHE THANK YOU boy do i have thoughts about probably most things relating to dr1

this is going under a readmore because oh my god

togiri is so interesting to me because like.. of course naegiri was the first ship to grow on me, how can it not, and naegami is also just kind of like. an obvious decision to me. like pairing a normal nice functional cheerful little dude with a cold unfeeling weirdo who he hangs out with a lot just works every time. it’s about the CONTRAST. so when i started liking naegirigami it was definitely mostly because i just liked both makoto ships, but eventually i really started thinking about byakuya and kyoko.

i think the first togiri thing i really thought about was, weirdly, the moment i think they were at their worst, which was when kyoko got makoto executed. like when i rewatch that trial, especially the anime version, the amount of hands byakuya throws because he completely refuses to believe makoto is the murderer meanwhile kyoko has to keep pushing that he is… on the one hand byakuya is half right and if he’s wrong he’ll die. so him defending makoto you can fully read as him doing whatever he thinks he has to in order to survive. but the fact is makoto and kyoko both had large windows of time during which they were unaccounted for, but byakuya suspected kyoko from the beginning.

byakuya in the later chapters is so interesting to me even though his character development is so subtle i sometimes feel insane pointing it out. but it is extremely sad that he makes his big ‘i’m not going to play the game anymore i’m going to work with everyone to get out of here and kill the mastermind’ announcement in chapter 4 after being forced to reevaluate everything, and then immediately he is thrown into a situation where he has to distrust the others once again.

the fact that he is so angry at kyoko for refusing to explain what she’s doing all the time by herself, and seemingly refuse to disclose her talent, is because he wants to trust her. but he can’t. and then him lashing out at kyoko and taking her room key is what ends up allowing her to pass the guilty verdict off to makoto since she can claim she couldn’t get in her room. byakuya what have you wrought.

anyway so i mostly think chapter 5 was a naegami win, but i started thinking about like. the time between makoto falling into the abyss and kyoko following him. i cannot remember if i read a fic like this already but like…i imagine kyoko goes to talk to byakuya before she leaves. she knows if she and makoto both end up dead, byakuya is kind of the group’s leader in their absence, so she might want to let him know.

so here’s the question. does byakuya, still confused and bitter about having to vote for someone he didn’t believe would kill anyone, give a shit that kyoko might be about to die? i think on the outside he has nothing to say to her at this point, but on the inside he’s started to realize he does care about these people and he doesn’t want to lose another one. but the possibility of getting makoto back means he won’t do anything to stop her.

so what i’m saying is. it’s because of makoto’s execution that byakuya hates kyoko the most he ever does, but it’s also because of losing makoto that he realizes he doesn’t want to lose kyoko either, even when he still can’t trust her.

UM on a lighter note togiri is fun because sometimes byakuya is very stupid and kyoko is like how do you still think that you’re as smart as me? what is wrong with your brain you foolish man? and kyoko is wayyy better at hiding her emotions and never outwardly reacting to things than byakuya is. like imagine them doing anything together in a casual setting.

like you know the school mode dialogue where byakuya doesn’t know what the toy vending machine is and demands makoto explain it to him? that’s adorable but imagine the togiri version of that. byakuya (understandably) kind of views makoto like a golden retriever, like he’s not trying to keep his guard up around him because he cannot imagine makoto posing a threat. but he absolutely can imagine kyoko posing a threat, whether to his life or his dignity. so if he’s ever in a situation with kyoko where he has to ask her to explain some commoner thing to him, he’s trying way harder to act calm and collected about it, but she sees RIGHT through him because he’s a dummy who thinks he can have a facade up around a detective.

so i think from byakuya’s side of things togiri is about him learning to trust kyoko and learning that she is kinder than she lets on (even if she will make fun of him, more than makoto would, for not knowing basic shit, she’ll still explain things to him and not embarrass him too much because she doesn’t actually enjoy making people feel dumb) and he can start to let his guard down around her even when her being smarter than him AND having her emotional shit together better is frightening to his weird rich brain.

from kyoko’s side i think byakuya interests her for the same reasons i think he’s interesting as a character. his actions are absolutely batshit sometimes, but in a twisted way they do make sense. he’s a weird rude mystery. but boy does kyoko enjoy a mystery. byakuya’s not going to just tell her his backstory like he does to makoto, again makoto is basically a therapy dog, so kyoko has to start figuring him out. during the killing game figuring out this one weirdo’s motivations is not her highest priority, but i think afterwards when they start working together and she has to have a strong understanding of who’s on her side, she would start questioning him the same way he questioned her during the game. and like before but flipped around, this is happening because she wants to be able to trust him. (if you think i’m implying from this series of events that byakuya starts to fall for kyoko long before she is interested in him at all: you are correct.)

and i think kyoko, once she starts to trust him, does appreciate a lot of byakuya’s qualities, like the fact he is so sure of himself nearly all the time. again, i think byakuya’s not as good at faking anything as kyoko. i think his arrogance is real and most of what he says is exactly how he feels. (MOST of it. obviously he has his funny obvious tsundere ass moments occasionally.) meanwhile kyoko has to fake her confidence constantly. my interpretation of her character is she isn’t very socially outgoing, so combined with her severe amnesia, literally her confidence in her abilities being erased from her mind, that’s why she needs makoto to help carry the trials during the killing game. she is always calm but she is always hiding. she has to fake the confidence that byakuya was born with. so what i’m saying is byakuya is the one to be like ‘excuse me she asked for no pickles’

another potential area i wanna think about re: togiri is just the topic of their families, particularly their fathers, but also their family legacies that they both carry. kyoko is the detective her father didn’t want to be. byakuya is the heir who fought and won his place just like his father. kyoko was abandoned because her father didn’t want to be part of the chain and she resents him for it. byakuya went through a situation that was in his mind comparable to the killing game because he wanted so badly to be the next link in the chain. kyoko came to hope’s peak to see her father again and found him dead, and byakuya came to hope’s peak as his family’s representative and then was told he was the last one living.

so um yeah i’m just gonna stop here i think that’s most of my thoughts currently this was..a lot LOL thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble

#togiri #danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #byakuya togami #kyoko kirigiri #analysis #ask #amaiuh

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff. and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother. if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff. Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt. Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it. Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll. “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence. “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned. Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you. “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well. The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that. Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed. “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard. It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this. She could do better than him anyways! But she didn’t care about that, only money and status. You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh. You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life. You were just numb.

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer. It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his. You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table. He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know. Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway. You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly. Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink. Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe. There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled. “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’. This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity. Almost.

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned. “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!”

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face. It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over. You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room. That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death. So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions. You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either. And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more. You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it. Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot. You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else. You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible. You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything. Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently. The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen. She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though. You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one. At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along. Friday night was different, though. This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning. That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it. It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside. You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow. It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms. He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face. You didn’t let it get this far just to give up. You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey. You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak. “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could. You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this. Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me. I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once. All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response. “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you! You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled. It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed. It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before. He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked. You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits. It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was. You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet. You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly. You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain. But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward. Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused. You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him. He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed. “You are in dire need of a punishment. You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal. “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh? Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers. “This fuckin’ mouth. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? Come on baby, open up. I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip. You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see? You’re so wet for it,” he purred. You tried to speak but words abandoned you.

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed. His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth. He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting. You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy. “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock. Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe. His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough. You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait? I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled. “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring. Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra. Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands.

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside. “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor. A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you. You shook your head again. “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly. “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason. You gonna be good for me now?”

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs. “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind. You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more. Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority. “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart? Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?” He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands. A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers. They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off. You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor. “I can smell how much you want it.” He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue. “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised. You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs. You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come. And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily. It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now. Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment. Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you.

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth. “Beg me. To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed. It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned. He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true. And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother. He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon. Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not. At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you. Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it? Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher. Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer. He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright. He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned. “Feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face. “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed. You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl? Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed. “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop. Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day). He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you. “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out. He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked. It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip. He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt. “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?”

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath. You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction. You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer. “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

#lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #dark fic

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twodimecastle · 3 years

Text

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #my writing #spencer reid fluff

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Yitzhak!

is a character! who Gregadiah What-Is-Math Rucka gave us almost no information about!

I've gone through Tales Through Time #6: The Bear and #1: My Mother's Axe with several magnifying glasses and done a lot of googling and taken my copy of the Tanakh off my shelf for the first time since (well, since the last time I needed to read Torah for TOG reasons, which I think was Booker Passover headcanons) and here's the best I can come up with.

In The Bear we meet someone who goes by the name Isaac Blue:

Read on for a lot of comic panel analysis and historical research and Jewish flailing!

So what do we know about this Isaac Blue person?

He's Lorge, he's got curly hair, he's basically a taller version of Joe as drawn by Leandro Fernández (ie an antisemitic stereotype why the fuck did they approve this character design?? and then why did they double down and copy-paste it to Yitzhak??):

He's got a mezuzah on the doorpost of his house in Alaska!

I screamed about the mezuzah way back in January in this post where I (very reasonably) assumed this character was Joe and spun myself a tale about how Booker is still Joe's brother so the mezuzah stays up even though Booker isn't welcome in that house for a century. Bottom line: the mezuzah is a tradition with origins in the commandment from Deuteronomy 6:9 to "write the words of G-d on the gates and doorposts of your house" and evolved over the course of the Rabbinic period into the modern mezuzah we see here.

I did unnecessary levels of google image search to glean absolutely no useful information about Yitzhak’s origins from this panel:

I've decided the variant cover of TTT 6 is Yitzhak because of a panel in My Mother’s Axe, shown here, and what's likely an unnecessarily deep reading of Exodus, discussed further down:

The person at the right of the bottom panel is wearing the same clothes as in the TTT 6 variant cover and has the same shoulder-length curly hair and hairy forearms.

Left to right, the people in this panel are Lykon (I'll never get used to him being white in the comics), Andy, Noriko (I think? why doesn't Andy mention her by name here?), and Yitzhak. Andy's robe has a stereotypically Greek design on the sleeve cuff, and I had to stop myself 10 minutes into a Wikipedia rabbit hole because Gregorforth doesn't think that deep about this shit. The solid clues as to timeline that we get in this panel are:

Andy's iron axe

the presence of Lykon, who Andy first met in 331 BCE

So all we know is that Yitzhak is an immortal, he was a contemporary of Lykon, and he's Jewish.

Isaac is the most common Anglicization of Yitzhak (which in turn is the most common Anglophone transliteration of יִצְחָק‎), and Greg always uses the (transliterated) Hebrew when he refers to this character. Yitzhak is the long-awaited child of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis, the child who G-d commanded Abraham to sacrifice but spared at the last minute. I see what you did there, Gregory.

Why Isaac Blue? This is where I pulled out my Tanakh. According to the New JPS translation, blue is the first of three colors of yarn listed in Exodus 35:6 among the gifts requested of the Israelites to construct the priestly garments for the Tabernacle and later the Temple. Then in Numbers 15:38 the Israelites are commanded to "make themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout the ages; let them attach a cord of blue to the fringe at each corner."

And now for sandbox timelines party! Gregadiah gave us ALMOST NOTHING to go on, so I'm gonna make my own fun.

I, like many modern Jews, think the stories in the Tanakh are foundational mythology that are valuable because of how they've shaped our people but that contain some fucked-up shit and either way aren't meant to be a record of historical facts. Modern scholarship generally agrees that the community we now call Jews emerged as a distinct group of Canaanites sometime in the late Bronze Age (cw this video's host says the Name of G-d aloud despite being a religious studies scholar who knows that is not a name anyone but the Temple priests are allowed to say). The first non-Biblical written record of the people Israel is from an Egyptian source c. 1200 BCE, and the Biblical kingdom of David and Solomon was probably an exaggeration of whatever really happened during the Bronze Age Collapse. We start getting into historical-fact territory a few centuries into the Iron Age:

588 BCE Solomon's Temple destroyed, Babylonian exile begins

538 BCE Cyrus of Persia allows Jews to return to Jerusalem

515 BCE Second Temple construction complete

332 BCE Alexander the Great At Something I Guess conquered Judea, beginning the Hellenistic period of Jewish history — 331 BCE Andy & Lykon find each other

167 BCE another jerkface Greek king desecrated the Temple and basically outlawed Judaism

164 BCE recapture of Jerusalem and Temple rededication during the Maccabean Revolt

70 CE destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans, beginning of the Rabbinic period of Jewish history that we're still in now

What if... and hear me out... what if immortals come in pairs, and the pairs are:

Andy & Quynh

Joe & Nicky

Booker & Nile

LYKON & YITZHAK

What if Yitzhak was a priest of the Second Temple? What if he and Lykon killed each other just like Joe and Nicky would in the same city around 1300 years later, but instead of enemies-to-lovers speedrun with an absurdly long happily-ever-after, when Lykon died permanently Yitzhak decided to separate from Andy and Noriko and become the hermit we later see in Alaska?

We don't know how old Yitzhak is compared to the others, only that he was a contemporary of Lykon at a time when Andy was using an Iron Age version of her mother's axe. Other plausible origins for him:

a Jew of the early Rabbinic period, maybe a child or grandchild of people who were still alive before the Second Temple was destroyed

a Judean of the Second Temple era under the Romans or Greeks or Persians, maybe a priest, maybe not

an exilee in Babylon, maybe of the generation who got to return, maybe of the generation who was exiled (he doesn't look like he was 50 at his first death but who knows, he could've been mortal for both)

an Israelite of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah, maybe a priest of Solomon's Temple or again maybe not

an Israelite wandering in the desert with Moses

THEE Yitzhak, ben Avraham v'Sarah, our patriarch who was brought up for sacrifice and then spared, and then spared again, and then spared again, and again, and again...

or! he could also be a Canaanite or other Levantine who predates the people Israel, who at some point in his very long life chose to join our mixed multitude, who like Andromache before him (and like Avram and Sarai would in this case do after him) took a new name to reflect the magnitude of influence this people has had on him

Why do I keep saying Yitzhak might have been a priest? It's thanks to the one detail in the artwork I could plausibly connect to solid research without getting a PhD real quick. Take a look at the gorgeous detail on the opening of his robe in the TTT 6 cover. He's dressed in rags, holes and dirt everywhere, rough stitches probably from hasty repair work — except for the neck opening. Compare that to this description from Exodus 39:23 of the construction of the priestly garments for the Tabernacle: "The opening of the robe, in the middle of it, was like the opening of a coat of mail, with a binding around the opening, so that it would not tear."

The next verses describe the intricate designs for the hem of the priestly garment. Yitzhak's ragged garment looks like the hem was torn off entirely.

Am I overthinking this? Yes I am! You're welcome!

My friend and historical research hero @lady-writes is in a Discord server with Gregadiah and asked the man himself some questions about all this. He clearly thinks he's being sneaky?? No shit Yitzhak is Jewish, dude, I want DETAILS!

I will not be giving up my Jewish Booker headcanon, I've put too much thought into it by now, the internalized shame of antisemitism explains Booker's depression too well for me, and it just adds so much richness to Booker/Nile both being children of forced diasporas. Fortunately (for him, not me, bc I'd do it anyway!) Gregothy supports fan headcanons even when they're not in line with his own:

One last thing before I close like 100 research tabs and go back to writing historical fantasy and/or porn! I love that, despite that atrocious caricature of a face design, our canon Jew and our fanon Jew are both Lorge and Soft and Kind, flying the face of the antisemitic stereotype of Ashkenazi Jewish men as small and weak, but also not falling into the New Jew / Muscle Jew stereotype that Zionism created. (I am trying SO HARD not to talk about Israel/Palestine for once ughhhhhhhhhh) Anyway here's a (US-centric but very good) primer on both these stereotypes of Jewish masculinity. Is this why I'm forever projecting my transmasc diasporist feels onto Jewish Booker the service sub? 🤷🏻‍♂️

I’ll reblog a second version of this with full image descriptions so that there’s a version accessible for folks who need IDs as well as a version accessible for folks who get overwhelmed by walls of text.

#TOG POC Love Fest #yitzhak #jewish booker #tales through time spoilers #tales through time #tog meta #tog #jewish things #mine #antisemitism #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

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panickingpansexuality · 3 years

Text

Telling Jumin about some of the abuse getaway information

TW: Abuse

You and Jumin were having dinner with your mom at her house. The night had been going great and your mom seemed to like him. Jumin excused himself to the restroom when your mom took you to the living room.

Your mom had sat you down on the couch and with a worried expression started to ask you questions.

"You have a separate account right?"

"Yes Mama."

"And you still have that nice jewelry I gave you?"

You nodded.

"Everything is ok right?"

"Yes Mother." You press. "Really he isn't like that."

"That's what I thought too." She said grabbing your hand.

"You can sell your ring too." She said. "It has to be the first thing to go MC."

"Mama." You sigh out. "Its ok really. He's never going to hurt me."

Your mother looks at you and nods, she Pat's your hands and looks behind you. Jumin is standing at the doorway and you get up to give him a peck on his cheek. He wraps his arm around your waist and gives it a light squeeze.

When you two leave the car ride is quiet your hand is gripping his to try and let him know everything is alright.

"I love you." You tell him, he's looking out the window and gives you a tight smile.

"How much did you hear?" You ask. "With my mom?"

"When she told you to sell your ring." He says in a tight voice. His eyes are full of tears.

"I'm not leaving you." You tell him softly your own eyes filling with tears. "I swear I'm not."

"Then what was that about?"

"Oh Jumin.." you sigh out. Tears fell from his eyes and you reached up to wipe them.

"There's something passed down." You begin. "From woman to woman, about how to leave a man in case he ever becomes abusive."

"What?!" He says. "Does your mother think that I'm abusing you?!"

"No! No!" You say quickly. "She worries too much, she was abused and of course I've had a share of relationships that didn't go smoothly...."

His hand moves from ours and wraps itself around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"So we have rules in place, rules that help us survive. Some of them are a but outdated but they help us.."

"I see.." he says. "So you cant ever let your guard down.."

"I do around you." You say kissing his cheek. "I have sooo many rules broken because I trust you."

You two arrive at the house and he goes straight to Elizabeth. You can tell he's not sure how to feel about this, you go and sit by him.

"I'm gonna tell you them." You say. "Every last one I was taught so you know I trust you."

Jumin looks at you surprised and nods.

So you start

"Never let him know where your personal documents are, Birth certificate, ID, Social Security number.."

"But I know where all of that is.."

"I know." You tell him with a soft smile.

"Have a separate bank account."

"I have one." You explain "Because I am not going to use your money to pay bills or get myself things."

"Jewlry can be pawned off even for a little. Some places will even give you money for donations."

"Gain his trust so that he suspects nothing, keep your head low until the end. Fight back back only when you know it wont cost your life."

"Let work know so that they cant come to your work."

"Once you leave constantly stay with someone. Sometimes leaving with your purse is all you can do. Leaving for work and then not coming home is one way to get out."

"Have a spare phone under. Flip phone is the cheapest, new SIM card and make sure your partner doesnt know about it."

"Do you..have one?" He asked.

"No." You promise. "Elizabeth would've found it by now even if I did."

It's a joke and you both know it but it feels wrong to try and joke right now. Still, Jumin gives you a faux smile. You took his hand and kissed it. You got up and moved with him to the couch.

"Always know where to go." You say. "A friends house, a shelter, churches, even if you save up for a shittt apartment."

"What about children?" He asks "what if you have children.."

You squeeze his hand tightly and release a breath of air to stop you from crying.

"Call schools to let them know what's happening and get them into a different school once you're away from them."

"Once you're away." You continue. "You change all passwords you have, throw out the phone your abuser is in and use the other phone and redirect your mail."

"Is that all?" He asks.

"All I can remember.." you say.

He's silent, he looks over at you and says nothing. He squeezes your hand so tight it hurts.

"Jumin." You say. "I know you would never hurt me. I trust you more than anyone I've ever dated and I am so happy to be with you. I am so happy that I get to call you my husband.

I know I can trust you with this information and know that I will never have to use it with you."

He pulls you into his chest and hugs you as tight as he can. He knows all of this he knows you trust him and that your mom worries too much. He just hates how you carry this information. How long have you had it?

"I know." He whispers out. "I know love. I know. I love you so much."

He holds you like your his lifeline. He knows that if you two have a daughter that she'll be passed this information and he can do nothing to protect her...but if they had a son...he would make sure that he would never be the reason that their lover had to use that information.

(A/N: This is not a stab at men and abuse that happens towards them this a nod to women who are being abused. This same information can be used for men in abusive situations.)

#tw: abusive relationship #jumin han angst #jumin han x reader fluff #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader #mysme jumin #mystic messenger #information

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all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years

Text

leaves

this started as a hc but turned into a long thing about geralt being a huge softie. enjoy.

___

jaskier collects leaves that he thinks are pretty during the fall and presses them in his song writing notebook so he can look at them during the winter when all the leaves are gone. and, he'd never admit this to anyone, but he knows exactly where each leaf came from, and what he and geralt were doing when he found them, so they help him stay close to geralt in the cold months when he's away at kaer morhen.

geralt doesnt understand the fascination cause “they're just leaves jaskier” and gets kinda grumpy when jaskier walks extra slow during the fall to admire and inspect the leaves. but he secretly enjoys the way that jaskiers face lights up in front of their camp fire at night as he shows geralt each leaf he collected that day and tucks them safely into the pages of his notebook.

jaskier used to show them to roach to inspect but after she ate a particularly beautiful one on accident he does not allow her anywhere near his precious leaves.

one year jaskier and geralt part ways a little earlier than normal, geralt deciding to begin the trek to kaer morhen sooner than he normally would due to a lack of contracts so jaskier goes to oxenfurt earlier as well. the leaves are just beginning to change color as they part ways.

a few nights into the journey geralt is making camp for himself and roach when he sees a bright red leaf sitting on the forest floor, exactly the kind of leaf that jaskier would pick up and admire and wax poetry about before tucking it into his notebook. but jaskier isn't there, and geralt feels a little pang. he glares at the leaf the entire time he's setting up camp.

the camp fire has burned down to the embers by the time geralt is ready to lay out his bed roll, but he can still see the leaf at the corner of his vision. he sighs and gets up, knowing that it will continue to bother him unless he does something about it. he picks up the leaf, brushes off the dirt far more lightly than he would ever care to admit, and goes to tuck it in to his saddle bag in the roll of parchment he keeps on the off chance he has to write a letter.

roach snorts at him. “shut up,” he mutters back. “its just a leaf.” roach nuzzles his arm. “no, i don't miss him. im just...bringing him a souvenir. we had to part early this year.” another snort. “yes, i know you know. but he didn't get to see the leaves this year. i don't want him to be disappointed.” roach headbuts him as if to say, you dumb witcher. geralt ignores this, but gives her some nice pats before retiring to his bedroll.

in the next town geralt buys a random book. he doesnt know what it is, he bought the cheapest one he could find. but he's not going to read it, he just needs something to keep jaskiers leaf in so it doesnt crumble to bits before the spring. he swears roach laughs at him for that.

throughout his trip up to kaer morhen, geralt finds himself progressively walking slower, taking time to admire the leaves as the bard had once done.

he picks up the second leaf a week later after a battle with some drowners. he’s heading back into the town, having come across his first contract in weeks, holding the head and covered in river muck and guts when he sees a perfectly yellow leaf on the ground in front of him. he picks it up gingerly, trying his very best not to get guts on it (and he nearly succeeds). if the alderman thinks its weird, a witcher coming back with a drowner head in one hand and a yellow maple leaf in the other, he doesnt say anything. roach does tho, whinnying the second she sees it in geralts hand. he ignores her, and presses the maple leaf into the book a few pages after the brilliant red one.

after that he adds to the collection more frequently. an reddish oak leaf he finds on the ground outside of a tavern, a brilliant orange leaf he finds at his campsite, a yellowish orange leaf the size of his face that he finds along the road and so on. roach makes fun of him every time he reaches for the book, but geralt ignores her. they're merely souvenirs for jaskier, nothing more.

collecting leaves slows him down considerably, but he cant bring himself to care. he's even disappointed when the last of the leaves disappear and the first snow sets in.

but that doesnt stop him from collecting things to add to his book. he gathers different small pine branches, holly leaves and other things that he knows jasper has never seen before because they grow too far north. he becomes so caught up in his hunt for interesting plants that the snow is already falling thickly by the time he reaches kaer morhe, despite him leaving for the keep so early. eskel and lambert chide him for being late, but he ignores them, happy that he managed to fill most of the book with leaves for jaskier.

that whole winter the book remains in the bottom of geralts pack, wrapped carefully in his spare shirt. he thinks about it often, but doesnt dare bring it out for fear that one of his brothers will catch him and make fun of him for being a sap. he's not a sap, he just found some leaves for his friend.

winter drags on far too long in geralts opinion and leaves as soon as the passes are clear, antsy to get back to his friend and give him the book. but on his way down he discovers yet another beautiful thing that jaskier would love: wildflowers. roach is slightly more appreciative of this because wildflowers are things that she is allowed to eat. geralt often feeds her them to see if she approves. if she spits it out or refuses to eat it, then it doesnt make it into the book.

in the space he has left in the book he fills it with wildflowers, sometimes going out of his way to collect them. there are buttercups, dandelions, little blue ones the color of jaskiers eyes, poppies, apple blossoms, daffodils, and even a few rose petals that he buys from a stall in a market. the book is brimming with nature now. he has to be careful not to lose any of his treasures.

finally, he arrives at his and jaskiers meeting spot. he stables roach who gives him a headbut of encouragement and he grabs the book carefully wrapped in his shirt before he makes his way to the tavern, suddenly very nervous.

jaskiers voice is already wafting out of the tavern as he draws closer, having beat geralt to the meeting spot for once, and geralt hesitantly steps inside, knowing jaskiers eyes will be on him the second he goes in. he’s overcome with thoughts, what if jaskier hates it? what if he thinks it's dumb? what if he laughs at him?

he enters anyway, because he's a witcher for fucks sake and he can handle his friends scrutiny. immediately he sees jaskier, sitting in the corner, working a crowd. as always, jaskiers eyes snap to him the second he steps foot in the tavern and he winks. geralt gives him the smallest nod and heads to his table in the corner after ordering an ale. he tucks the book out of sight on the bench next to him.

minutes later jaskier barrels over, eyes bright with the life of the crowd he had been entertaining.

“geralt!” he exclaims. “finally. i thought you stood me up, you big oaf. i never make it here before you do, i thought you may have been eaten! although im not sure by what exactly, i don't know what species has a taste for witches, dragons maybe? well never mind, youre here now and you better have a good excuse for being so late, even im starting to get bored of this town and you know how i love towns...”

geralt smiles into his ale, he missed this, but he'd never admit it. his eyes flick over to the book sitting on the seat beside him, unsure whether or not he should give it to him.

jaskier, being the observant fucker he is, notices. “geralt what do you have on the seat there? is it a monster head? you know what happened last time you tried to hide a monster head in a tavern, i thought the town would chase us out with pitchforks they were so angry! surely you wouldn't-”

“here.” geralt mutters, cutting him off, unwilling to listen to that horrible story.

jaskier stares at the lump of black fabric on the table. “geralt, why are you giving me your shirt? its not really my style, i’m not one for black really, makes my skin look too pale.”

“open it.” he says into his ale.

jaskier does, and stares at the book dumbfounded. “a history book? geralt you know that i am a master of the seven liberal arts, im a professor at oxenfurt! i have all these boring books in the library, i didn't need you to get me one, although it is very thoughtful of you to- oh”

geralt, tired of hearing jaskiers babbling, flips open the book, revealing the bits of nature he had spent their time apart collecting. jasper is silent, which geralt takes as a bad sign. maybe roach was right, maybe he didn't like it, maybe he'd wasted his time for nothing.

“cause you....you didn't get to see...the leaves this year,” he mutters, looking into the tavern, unable to see the inevitable disappointment on jaskiers face.

“oh, geralt,” jaskier whispers. “you collected all of these for me?”

geralt doesnt say anything, but his silence is enough.

“this is why you were late. you were collecting these, for me.”

“its okay if you don't..like them” geralt bites out.

“oh no no no no, geralt, they're wonderful.”

geralt looks at jaskier and sees him touching the pine branch he took form the trees outside kaer morhen, tears brimming in his eyes. “you don't hate it?”

“no, love.” jaskier smiles softly. “i adore it. and i adore you. and id love it if you tell me about all of them, please.”

for the first time in years geralt feels something like a smile tugging at his lips and he picks up the pine branch from jaskiers hand, telling him how it came from the tree outside his window, the one that he looked at everyday as a kid growing up. the same tree that lambert once dared him to climb and he nearly did before being spotted by vesemir and scolded at. jasper laughs and sniffs the pine carefully before placing the branch back in the book.

they pour over the book for hours at their table in the tavern. geralt cant remember the last time he's talked this much, much less about himself of all things, but jaskier is more than happy to listen.

if you want to be tagged in future works of mine shoot me an ask !!

#witcher #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #geraskier #greaskier fic #witcher fic #idk where this cam from but i vibe #if anyone wants to be tagged in my future rambings #please let me know #i hope you enjoyed this hc fic type thing #geralt is a huge softie and i love him #saph scribbles

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reidetic · 4 years

Text

Whining and Dining (Spencer Reid/F!Reader)

prSummary: Reader teases Spencer by sexting him during a team dinner. Chaos and smut ensues. 2.7k word count.

A/N: Hi! I got to write this for @thisgirl-knm for our discord’s fic swap. This was so much fun to write, and I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I loved writing it.

CW: swearing, daddy kink, unprotected sex, penetrative sex

The dinner was one I had been looking forward to for a while now. We hardly ever got weekends off these days, what with the country seemingly crawling with killers. Rossi had planned a big evening at his house, fine dining a la David Rossi. So, there was pasta and wine to be had, and no shop talk allowed. It sounded like a blissful evening. There was only one problem. Spencer Reid had not touched me in weeks. It was understandable, as the team still didn’t know about us, and being on constant cases meant any time we got to go home we scrambled for our beds and passed out. But I was beginning to get impatient, and tonight I was determined.

“Y/n, are you ready?” Spencer calls from the living room, and I giggle to myself, turning to look in the mirror. I’m wearing his absolute favorite dress on me, paired with one of his blazers rolled to the elbows, the blazer resting just below the hemline of the dress.

“I’m coming! Just needed to grab a jacket.” I toss a longer duster coat over my ensemble and pick up my purse and head towards him, and he smiles, a huge grin.

“You’re wearing that dress.” He smirks a little and pulls me close to him, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Any particular reason?”

I laugh, not wanting him to see through me just yet. “Figured it was as good of an occasion as any. Are we still taking separate cars?” I reach up to grab my keys, and he grimaces but nods. He still hates driving.

“If that’s still okay with you. Less questions that way.” I know he’s right, but the feeling of hiding settles in my stomach like a rock. We both would never live it down, and the HR paperwork seems like a giant headache on top of all the other paperwork we’re drowning in. Not to mention the lectures, the seminars, it’s just a lot.

“It’s fine, just double checking!” I lean up to kiss his cheek, and he opens the door, ushering me out.

The drive is innocuous, an easy half hour with Spencer following me out of the city. We’re the last ones to arrive, but I can easily blame that on traffic. After all, it’s DC. Pulling up, I marvel at the house before me. I swear it gets bigger each and every time I see it. I go in first, letting Spencer follow behind me a few moments later.

“Ah, she’s here! Benvenuta, darling!” I smile as Rossi opens the door and pulls me in for a hug, the smell of Scotch following him.

“Running a little late, aren’t we, y/n?” Morgan follows, his joking tone betraying his words. He reaches out and takes my jacket, hanging it on a coat rack to his left.

“You know how traffic out of the city gets.” I smile invitingly, making my way back towards JJ, Garcia, and Emily, taking a seat on the sofa beside them. “It is so good to see you outside of the bullpen.”

“Ah! No work talk.” Emily exclaims, handing me a glass of red wine. “We’re all here except Spencer. Where is he, anyways?” She muses, and I balk. Just as I’m about to make an excuse, the doorbell rings.

“Speak of the devil!” JJ laughs, and the greeting process begins again, with much less physical affection this time, save Garcia, who of course runs to hug him tightly. He’s learned to tolerate and maybe even enjoy her hugs over the years.

For appearances sake, I call out a short, teasing, “What took you so long, Reid?” He shakes his head at me and just offers a simple excuse about getting caught behind a train out of the city. It works for the team, and we all chit chat for a while, nursing our drinks and pilfering Rossi’s precariously placed appetizers. Eventually, Rossi announces it’s time to move to the backyard for the main course, and small cheers fill the air.

I make a quick excuse and step into the hall bathroom, pulling out my phone as the door clicks behind me. Opening up Spencer’s contact, I type out a small, teasing message.

‘Check your pocket.’

‘Y/n. What is this?’

‘You tell me.’

‘It seems to be your underwear, little girl.’ One seemingly quick second later, he follows it with another text. ‘You’re going to get us caught.’

‘Sounds like you should make sure we don’t, daddy.’ I slide my phone back in my blazer pocket and duck out of the bathroom, hurrying to join the others at the table. The only seat left is of course directly across from Spencer, seated in between Rossi and Emily.

“Nice of you to join us, y/n.” Emily teases, and we all laugh. It’s nice to have a teasing moment between friends sometimes, and I intend to remind Spencer of that fully. After the attention leaves me, and focuses on Emily and JJ’s son, I pull out my phone and text him again.

‘You look distracted.’

‘I wonder why.’

‘Can I fix it, daddy?’

He sucks in a quick breath, choking on the water he’s drinking. He puts his phone back in his lap before glaring up at me briefly.

Morgan claps him on the shoulder. “You alright man?”

Spencer responds with a very obvious, “Yeah. I choked.” The team once again laughs it off and returns to their conversation, paying us no attention.

‘You’re going to pay for that.’

I tune into the conversation then, purposefully ignoring the text, and pretend to not notice when the phone vibrates in my lap. Rossi is talking about his newest book, and I chime in with a quick, “Hey, we said no shop talk!” and Rossi relents, and Morgan brings up a subject change, something about Hank and Savannah.

I check my phone, and there are three messages waiting for me.

‘Are you ignoring me, little girl?’

‘That was a question.’

‘You’re in big trouble now.’ I stifle a giggle at that, and reach one leg across to him, slowly sliding my foot up his leg.

‘Daddy, why? I’m innocent.’

‘Sure you are.’ He catches my foot and wraps one hand around my ankle, effectively stopping my teasing.

‘I am! You’re being mean.’

‘You’re about to see mean.’ He clears his throat and pretends to check the time. “It’s getting late, you guys. I should head out. It’s going to be an early morning for me.” He pushes his chair back and stands up, beginning to make his rounds.

“Got some hot date, Reid?” I pipe up, laughing with Emily and JJ. What they don’t know will make for a funny joke someday.

He simply glares at me, offering Garcia her goodbye hug and makes his way back through the house. About thirty seconds later, my phone buzzes.

‘In 15 minutes, I’m going to call you. You’ll pretend it’s your neighbor, she’s been locked out and needs your help. Then you’ll meet me at my place. Understood?’

‘20 minutes.’

‘I said 15.’

‘Fine, daddy.’ I groan internally, knowing I’ve got a storm waiting for me back at his apartment. Good thing I’ve got tomorrow and Monday off, to heal the bruises he’s likely to leave on my ass.

Fifteen minutes later like clockwork, my phone starts to ring. I pick it up before anyone can see the caller ID.

“Hello?” I ask, as if I don’t know who it is.

“Remember what I said. I’m your neighbor, I got locked out.” I can hear his smirk through the phone, and it takes all I have not to huff.

“Mary? You’ve been locked out? Yeah, of course, I’ll be on my way.” I hang up the phone before he can say anything else and extend a smiling apology to the team.

“My neighbor got locked out. I need to go help her, I’ve got her spare.” The team is of course, smiling and accepting, and Emily comes to help me put on my coat and close the door behind me.

“I thought your neighbor’s name was Beth.” Emily posits. I freeze, and turn to her with a smile.

“That’s what I said! Beth. My neighbor.” Emily smirks and pats me on the shoulder, laughing softly.

“Have fun with Spencer. Don’t worry, I won’t blow your cover.” She strides back towards the backyard and waves you off. All you can do is laugh, right?

…

Emily takes a seat at the table, grins at Rossi and says, “You owe me 50 bucks.”

Rossi groans. “Y/n admitted it? I thought it'd be the kid for sure.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a fifty, slapping it into Emily's outstretched hand while the team laughs.

...

The half hour drive home is nerve wracking and thrilling all at the same time. I wonder just how much trouble I’m in, or maybe he'll make it nice for me. He really won't be nice when he finds out Emily knows.

I pull up to his apartment, nervously stealing the last on street parking in front. Guess his neighbors will have to walk.

I make my way up to his door and shake off the nerves, settling back down into a bratty state. It's what he deserves, not paying me any attention. I bring a hand up to knock on his door, but he opens it before I can rap against the wood.

“Hello, little girl. You took quite a while.” He motions to grab my coat and ushers me in and closes the door. Even when he's angry, he's still a perfect gentleman.

“About that…Emily may have made a comment insinuating she knows that we are together.” The whole sentence comes out more like a squeak and he steps forward, pressing me against the door I just came through.

“And who's fault is that?” His knee comes ip to rest in between my legs, the tiniest bit of attention under my skirt. He leans forward and starts to press kisses into my neck, leaving barely there traces of his tongue.

“I think we were both at fault there.” I snicker, craning my neck to give him better access.

“Oh? And who started the texting tonight?” One of his hands begins to snake down and trail back up my skirt, pulling me down on his thigh. “Because it wasn't me.” I whimper at the contact and he has the audacity to laugh at me.

“You could’ve s-stopped me.” I pull off his blazer, tossing it behind us and start to unbutton his shirt when he stops me.

He catches my chin and forces it up, looking into my eyes. “Did I give you permission?”

“No.” Despite my words, my fingers keep up their work of undoing his shirt.

“Then stop, little girl.” His voice is a warning, low and quiet.

“Make me.” In one swift move he grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head, effectively stopping any motion I might've made. Except for the part where I could grind against his knee.

“Oh, you pitiful thing. So needy for me that you have to rub against my thigh for just a little bit of friction, hm?” He's laughing at me, but he's holding his thigh just where I can get myself off, and I’m refusing to hold back my moans. So be it if his neighbors know what he's into.

“Please, daddy.” Being held up against the door, there's only so much I can do for myself.

“Please what? What do you want?” His words are kind but his tone is mocking, and his smile gives him away. He's having fun with this, torturing me.

“Please, help me, let me ride you, something, daddy, please.” I've never felt more embarrassed that I’m so turned on by being denied like this, but anything this man does turns him into more of a sex god.

He takes the begging, releases me, and sits on the couch in the living room. It occurs to me then that his blinds are open, and I decide then I don't care. If the team knows, the whole city can know. I swing a leg over his lap, straddling his thigh and locking my fingers around his neck.

His hands meet my hips and he pushes me down on his thigh, giving me more of that delicious pleasure. “Go on, little girl. Ride my thigh until you finish. But you better ask permission first.”

I bite my lip and nod at him, uttering a soft and whiny, “Yes, Daddy.” I rock myself back and forth, loving this attention I’m so desperately craving. I feel the pressure build in my stomach and throw my head back, moaning loudly as it builds and builds.

“Let me finish, please? Can I please?” The sentence hardly makes sense but luckily he's feeling nice, at least this time.

“Go on, little girl. Be good for me.” And with his words, it sends me over the edge and he kisses me, threading his tongue through my mouth and silencing my screams of his name.

“Oh, thank you, thank you.” The brat is wiped out of me at this point, too tired to keep of the façade that he doesn't own me.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head ever so slightly at me. “You made a mess, baby.” He pushes me off of his lap and motions for me to get his pants off, which I do, tossing them behind us. He makes quick work of my dress, seeing as how my underwear were already off and in his pocket from earlier. “Stand up.”

“Why?” I whine, slumping my head against the couch cushion.

“Because I fucking said so.” He grabs my arms and pulls me up, all but throwing me over the side of the couch.

He smooths over my ass, humming appreciatively. I feel his erection pressing up against me, and I arch my back and wiggle into him.

“Oh so eager, my little girl.” He chuckles and traces a finger through my wetness, eliciting a louder moan than expected from him. “All this just from my thigh?” With no warning, he thrusts into me all at once.

“Fuck! Daddy, you feel so fucking good.” I moan, the pleasure heightening my senses and making me feel all but drunk. One glass of wine at Rossi’s is nothing compared to Spencer's dick.

He moves faster then, reaching a hand up to thread it through my hair and pull me back on to him with every thrust.

“Little girl, you're so fucking tight. How are you always this tight?” He groans through clenched teeth, fucking me with an unfair but so rhythmic thrusts of his hips. He knew how to build me back up again and it showed.

“Please, just use me, Daddy.” I choke out, every muscle in my body preparing for my impending orgasm.

“Oh, I plan to, sweet little girl. You teased me all fucking night, from the time we left to your silly little texts.” He reaches one hand down and finds my clit, rubbing circles and bringing me to the brink of orgasm for him. “You gonna come for me, baby?” He pants, drawing near to his finish. It had been two months, after all.

Almost as if on cue, my release found its way out of my body and I came around him with a loud cry of his name. He yanks my hair and buries himself into me, filling me with his simple warmth.

He collapses on top of me momentarily, before drawing out of me with a hiss and falling onto the couch.

I giggle and stand up, stretching my tired muscles. “Did you have fun, Daddy?”

“Always do with you.” He smiles, and I lean down to kiss him deeply.

“I love you.” I say, and he pulls me onto his lap. He presses another kiss against my forehead.

“I love you too. I guess Tuesday will be so much fun, huh?” I groan, thinking about the implications of the team knowing.

“Yeah. But you're worth it.” I laugh softly, and wrap my arms around his neck.

“You mean that?” I say brightly, batting my eyelashes at him dramatically.

He chuckles and says, “Always.”

taglist: @dontkissthewriter @imagining-in-the-margins @sunlight-moonrise @httpnxtt @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @fanficlibrary82 @dreatine @andiebeaword @zhuzhubii @prettyricky187 @reidlusts

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #fic swap

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kim-miyeon · 4 years

Text

Hell Above-Chapter Ten

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Series contains mature content. read at your own discretion. Mafia!AU, explicit language, suggestive language, slight sexual scenes, pregnancy family issues, mild abuse, angst, 18+

WORD COUNT: 5K

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I Will Soon Forget The Color Of Your Eyes And You’ll Forget Mine

Time was a funny concept. Who knew that time could feel so slow in moments of fast pace and heightened anxiety. Then in the slower passing moments, when your mind drifts off into a deep end, time clicks slowly.

Like it was for Hyunjin.

He sat there, pen in his hand sketching out images that plastered in his mind. Eyes glued into the white sheet, lost in the daze. Each stroke, darker than the next, until the picture became more clear. That with each passing stroke he sketched a woman. A woman imprinted on his mind. Constantly in his heart, stained there forever.

His mind wandered off to moments of your smile. Heart fluttered as he imagined the days he would see you sparkle under the sun rays, skin glowing… you were so radiant. His lips pulled to the side, half smiled trying to replay the sound of your voice. The way you laughed, smelled, touch. Every bit of you… was now a distant memory. Just a faint image of a woman who was there and now was gone. And Hyunjin ached every day from your absence.

A knock at the door cause Hyunjin to jolt with surprise as he looked up from the sketch and saw the head of Jisung pop through the door as he opened.

“Sorry to bug you but,” Jisung paused as he walked over to Hyunjin’s desk holding a garment bag, “your suit is here.”

Hyunjin watched as Jisung walked further and laid the garment bag down on the side couch as he continued, “ your father said that you should meet Jin-Ae at…”

“Did you find her?”

Jisung stood there looking at Hyunjin as he had been cut off. Hyunjin’s demeanor was serious as he looked back at Jisung, trying to get an answer for his question.

“Hyunjin..” Jisung sighed, “it’s been over a month now. Don’t you think that maybe we should st-“

“Keep looking? Yes.” Hyunjin interjected and set his pen down on the desk.

“What if she doesn’t want to be found?”

Hyunjin heart skipped an uneasy beat to Jisung’s question. You had been gone for so long, with no trace of where you could be, and no update if you’ve been seen. It wasn’t a secret that people knew Hyunjin was suffering, and he craved you. He never thought that he could function in a world where you no longer lingered close by and how he could feel a sense of emptiness within him. All in all, Hyunjin knew that if anyone found out that he was sending Jisung out to try and conjure up information on you, it could mean serious punishment.

But Jisung’s words did have incredible meaning behind them. What if you didn’t want to be found? What if you really left everything behind and what if you really didn’t love Hyunjin? All those feelings, Hyunjin tried to suppress. He didn’t want to believe that you could be that cold hearted to capture his heart the way you did and let him pour his most vulnerable self out just so you can break him. You weren’t heartless, at least that’s what he wanted to believe. You were a kind woman. Gentle. Even behind a gun, Hyunjin imagined you as graceful as an angel. Even after knowing that you also had blood on your hands, he couldn’t spare to think that you were a monster in sheep’s clothing.

But you could have been the devil in disguise.

“Keep looking.” Hyunjin croaked out softly and Jisung exhaled loudly as he nodded and turned on his feet to walk back out of the office.

Hyunjin lifted his hands to his face as he rubbed his skin. He groaned at the feeling of the pressure but also the frustration and emotional burnout. How did it come to this? That’s all he thought about. How did any of this occur? He let his mind drift back to the day you left and the morning after, reflecting on a day living in hell.

******************************************************* Hyunjin’s arm extended out to the side of the bed feeling the smoothness of the sheets against his fingertips. His mind in bliss as he recollected bits of moments from the night before. You were here, you were always here. He smiled and pulled his hand back when he realized, you weren’t. His eyes shot opened, straining against the light of the morning as he realized that you weren’t in bed. Was it a dream? Could he have dreamt of you here? He frantically looked around the room for answers and saw his clothes on the ground, but no sign of you being with him.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin flung the sheets over his body, pulling hims self up as he ran out the room and into the living room.

Empty.

You weren’t sitting on the sofa, cozy up in your favorite blanket watching a random show. You weren’t in the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and no pants, cooking you two breakfast. You weren’t in the dining room, setting the table, asking Hyunjin if he preferred juice of coffee.

You weren’t there.

“Fuck..” Hyunjin ran back into his room and grabbed his phone quickly as he began to dial your number. He stood there hands rummaging his hair and looking around.

“The number you are trying to reach has bee-“

“No no NO. FUCK Y/N answer the phone!!”

He dialed again and thought thoroughly about last night. You held a gun at him. You were in the basement of the Lee Mansion. You came home. You told him you would be honest. He made a promise to you. He wasn’t going to do everything he could to keep you next to him. So why did you leave?

That’s when Hyunjin saw it. When his blood stopped cold and ears grew hot. Stomach frozen and breath hitched. The last thing he thought he’d ever see.

Your wedding ring on the bedside table.

“The number you are trying to reach has been disabled.”

“Y/N..”

Hyunjin felt the sickness in the pit of him and he felt the tears burning against his eyes. He walked over to the ring that had been so beautiful places on your finger for two years, sitting on the wooden table. No note. No anything. Just this. You were gone. Hyunjin choked back his tears as he felt his legs give out from the pain and sat down on the floor holding the ring in his hand as he couldn’t hold his tears anymore.

“DAMMIT.”

His phone buzzed and Hyunjin immediately reacted as he turned to grab it faster than light, only to see Jisung’s caller ID pop up. Disappointment was an understatement.

“Hello?” Hyunjin managed to choke out through the tears.

“Hyunjin you gotta get to the office right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Hyunjin stood up wiping his face.

“Your father’s here.”

******************************************************

Hyunjin walked into the conference room to find his father and mother sitting at the head of the table, Jisung, Chan, and Changbin sitting next to him and Yeji at the front.

Hyunjin looked to his parents and bowed his head in respect. “Hello Father. Hello Mother.”

“Hello my son, care to tell me why your sister called a family meeting?” Hyunjin’s father spoke and Hyunjin confusingly turned to Yeji and she smiled at him.

“I am calling for the removal of Hwang Hyunjin as leader.”

Hyunjin squinted at Yeji who cocked her eyebrow as Hyunjin took a seat next to his fathers. Hyunjin saw Changin’s eyes widened and Chan turned to Hyunjin. Hyunjin’s father laughed.

“Is that so? And what evidence to you have against my son that you feel needs to end with his removal?”

“Your son has been married to the leader of the Lee family for two years and failed to execute her last night during a planned attack that Chan and I put together.

Hyunjin looked at Chan who’s eyes grew and looked back at Hyunjin. Anger stemmed from Hyunjin’s demeanor. A sense of backstabbing came after hearing those words. Jisung looked at Hyunjin in concern as Hyunjin looked down at the table in disbelief of the situation.

“Hyunjin is this true?” Hyunjin’s mother, a gentle woman with a fiery backbone. She cared deeply for her children but learned quickly how to defend herself. Unlike other wives, Hyunjin’s mother was just as untouchable as his father.

“I didn’t know.” Hyunjin looked at his mother, with honest eyes. The saddest he’s ever had and his mother looked back at him in agony of wanting to comfort her son.

“According to the articles of treason within the Hwang family, Hyunjin has committed a crime by allowing a member of the Lee family live. He is also completely overtaken by this woman and I believe has incredible bias towards her. He is unfit to lead.”

“And how, may I ask, did you find this information Yeji?”

“During my absence, I was able to research intensively about the Lee family and traced information to this woman, Lee Y/N. Chan helped me find more information by doing scans. She was kept secret from everytime after the massacre and her one mission was to kill Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin’s expression changed and he looked at Yeji. To kill him?

“After finding out his information, we did our best to let our leader do what he had to. Which he had ultimately failed.”

Hyunjin felt all this new information overwhelmingZ you’re sole mission was to kill him, so why wasn’t he dead? Was it possible that you did love him and you couldn’t do it? Or was everything a lie?

“Hyunjin.. Yeji..” Hyunjin’s father spoke and looked at the children, “come with me.”

Hyunjin’s father stood and walked out the door as Hyunjin pushed back in his chair and stood to follow. Yeji behind Hyunjin came close and whispered in his ear, “I told you so.”

Once Hyunjin was out of the conference room he turned and grabbed Yeji and slammed her against the wall.

“Are you satisfied yet?”

“Not quite.” Yeji smirked at Hyunjin.

“You’re sick and twisted, you know that? What do you get out of all of this?”

“Watching you suffer.” She clicked her tongue and Hyunjin’s grip loosened

“What?” He said analyzing her.

“Did she come home last night? Did she leave you this morning?”

“How do you—“

“Face it Hyunjin, at the end of the day, she’s going to be the one thing you want and you can never have. And to watch you crumble the way I have all these years will be satisfying.” Yeji’s words rolled off her lips and she smiled darkly.

“HYUNJIN. YEJI. NOW.” Hyunjin’s father yelled from the office down the hallway and Yeji pushed Hyunjin off her and walked towards the room leaving Hyunjin dazed.

As he followed her into the office, he closed the door and Hyunjin’s father cleared his throat.

“Did you know?” Hyunjin’s father asked softly and Hyunjin shook his head.

“No sir, I didn’t know.”

“Removal of the Hwang leader would mean that the next in line would take over.”

Yeji’s eyes sparkled and Hyunjin’s father frowned. “But there will be no removal of the leader Yeji.”

“WHAT!? Father, treason is punishable by death. He let a Lee live.”

“And I heard you did the same with that young boy.”

Yeji silenced and Hyunjin’s father continued, “You are also unfit to lead Yeji and as long as I live, Hyunjin will stay as the rightful heir to this business.”

Yeji clenched her jaw and her breathing intensified.

“Now leave.”

Yeji stormed out to the room and left Hyunjin standing there with his father.

“The woman from the ball?”

Hyunjin nodded slowly to the question as he looked up at his father and his father sighed.

“Did you love her?”

Hyunjin felt his heart tightened and tears formed in his eyes. He knew he had to play a part for his father.

“I didn’t know who she was before today. But I promise that going forth I will not make the same mistakes.”

“I know you won’t, because I will be choosing your wife.”

With that, Hyunjin’s father patted Hyunjin’s back and left the room with Hyunjin standing there marinating the words that had been spoken. All the information made him feel overwhelmed. He had so many questions and no answers for anything. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed the small silver band with the diamond and looked at it sadly.

He knew you. He had to have known the real you. If you wanted to kill him you would have. If you really hated him then he would be dead. Even last night when you had your chance to pull the trigger, you could have. But you didn’t. You never did. There had to be a piece of you inside that cared for him. He had to know. So he was going to find you. Anyway he knew how. He would find you and keep his promise he made.

He wasn’t letting you go.

A knock came from the door, and Hyunjin turned to see Chan entering and Hyunjin’s sadness turned to disgust. And Chan knew.

“Hyunjin l-“

“You knew.”

“I didn’t-“

“Spare me your bullshit lies Chan I fucking trusted you.” Hyunjin growled at Chan.

“Hyunjin you didn’t know her.”

“Yes I fucking did! I knew her better than anyone! And you just couldn't let me be happy!” Hyunjn yelled.

“You gave your trust to a woman who you couldn’t be honest to. How did you not see all the missing holes in her scans? How did you not think about everyone else!” Chan tried to reason with Hyunjin but it made no difference.

“I was trying to protect you. I wanted to make sure she could be trusted.” Chan softly said as Hyunjin stood there looking at Chan, as he tried to redeem himself. Hyunjin scoffed

“Did you get what you needed then? You helped my sister and now you feel bad?”

“I didn’t know this was her plan. But fuck Hyunjin, Y/N was going to kill you.” Chan stepped closer to Hyunjin.

“So why didn’t she?! Hmm? ! How come I’m still alive, standing in front of you.”

Chan went silent.

“She had two years to kill me! We lived in the same house, shared the same life! In my most vulnerable moments, she had more than enough chances to take her gun and shoot me!”

Chan stood there thinking. Could you have been truly in love with Hyunjin so much that you couldn’t pull the trigger. But Chan tried to find a viable explanation for why you did what you did, anything that wasn’t love. Because how could two people who shouldn’t be together fall in love. But Chan knew Hyunjin was hurting, and he felt responsible.

“Get out of my face Chan.” Hyunjin stormed out of the room leaving Chan to soak in the atmosphere he had created.

******************************************************* You stood by, far away, as you watched the nurse hold Jeongin’s hand and slowly help him take steps. She smiled at him and he smiled his goofy bright one back. It was so contagious that you could help but smile. It made you happy, to see him slowly recovering. Just the smallest movements that he makes was success in your eyes. You didn’t think Jeongin would make it.

In fact, he almost didn’t.

The doctors said his recovery would take years, and that he may not be able to walk properly and may have other disabilities such as memory loss or muscle spasms. All the negative things that could be a permanent issue never could take away the main concept. Jeongin was alive. That’s all that mattered in the end.

But at what cost? You lost security. You lost your title. You lost Hyunjin. When you let your mind drift off to the night you left, you find yourself in a dark place. One where you can’t breathe, can’t function. It was heart wrenching. You didn’t want to think about how Hyunjin reacted. Then hours after you fled you found out that Yeji had called for his official removal and you knew he found out the truth to who you were. You didn’t know what that meant for you, where Hyunjin’s head was. Did he hate you now?

The month that you have stayed away has brought many hardships and tears. Your grandfather had called for a transition of power to Minho and since then, Minho had been training to take your place. There would have to be a discreet passing of the torch is how you worldly describe the ritual, a ritual that has never been done before in your family's history. You and Minho had to fight. A fight that was written where the victor would be crowned if he spilled blood of his opponent. You wondered if that meant fight to the death, and the thought about killing Minho didn’t tickle your brain or make you feel happy. But knowing him, you wondered if he was ready to kill you. A part of you wondered if he really wanted this too. If any of you did.

You saw the nurse and Jeongin head back into the hospital room and you adjusted your hat as you walked closer to Jeongin’s room. When you turned the corner to see inside, the nurse helped Jeongin lay back down in his bed and she ruffled his hair a bit and smiled. When she began to head out, she looked at you and smiled softly, nodding respectfully before she left and you looked over her shoulder as she walked off. You smiled and walked further and saw the boy look at you brightly.

“Look at you, flirting with the nurse I see.” You teased and he rolled his eyes at you and you laughed.

“Oh shut up, you have to admit she is pretty.” Jeongin slowly sat up and you helped him.

“Prettier than me?” You frowned and Jeongin nudged you.

“Aye, no one is prettier than you.” Jeongin laughed and you smiled as you took a seat next to him.

“You’re recovering really well, faster than anticipated.”

“I have to. Gotta get back on my feet to help you guys.”

“Have you been training for the transition?”

“Well I was in the beginning but um… I sort of had to stop.” You purse your lips as Jeongin looked at you worryingly. You had been waiting to get this weight off your chest for so long.

“Why? You need to train, Minho could get an upper hand on you.” Jeongin began to start his lecture and you reached into your cross body bag as he spoke and pulled on the white long stick.

“Jeongin..” you placed the heavy plastic stick in his hands. The little device showing the word that you still couldn’t believe, but knew had to be true.

Pregnant.

“Y/N..” Jeongin gasped, “ How long-“

“Can’t be very long. The last time I saw Hyunjin was a month ago.” You looked down and tapped your feet together. You couldn’t be surprised. Before all of the Yeji incidents, you stopped taking birth control. You were trying to have a family. Then it was all taken away from you so fast.

“You’re gonna —“

“Keep it? I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You responded still looking down and burying yourself in thought.

“Who else knows?”

“Only you. I can’t tell the others. This could be very bad.” You looked up and Jeongin frowned.

“You have to tell Hyunjin” he said in a serious tone.

“I cannot tell him.” You felt fear Tun through you at the thought of looking into Hyunjin’s eyes after everything.

“Y/N.”

“Jeongin I can’t. I’ve been hiding away and if I come out of nowhere he might kill me.” You began to feel your anxiety increase and Jeongin reached his hand out over yours as he tried to calm you.

“He wouldn’t kill you.” He softly said.

“Jeongin we don’t know him the way we used to, he probably has changed his opinion on me. Last I heard, he was dating someone and plans to marry them-“

“Y/n… Hyunjin loves you.”

Hyunjin loves you. Those words shattered the small wall you were building in your heart to cut out the feeling of losing someone so precious. The pain you experienced when you left him made you avoid the whole thing. But at the end of the day you always wondered if Hyunjin loved you still. How could he after everything you did to him. You began to cry softly, tears falling from your eyes down your cheeks as you let your heart feel things you wouldn’t let it.

“Are you okay? Jeongin asked and it was the first time in a long time if anyone had truly asked you, if you were okay.

Because for months you haven’t been. For years, you never were.

“No. I'm not okay.”

********************************************************

“I had a great time tonight Hyunjin.” Jin-Ae Stood in front of her door, wearing a beautiful emerald dress as she looked at Hyunjin, admiring his dark suit and tie. She adjusted the tie softly and Hyunjin lifted his hands to pull hers down.

“I’m glad, thank you.” He politely said trying to end his night faster than it started.

“Do you want to come inside for a drink?” She offered as she twisted her keys in the lock and Hyunjin shook his hands.

“No, I shouldn’t. It’s late and I have to get home.”

“Oh come on! One drink won’t hurt you.” Jin-Ae grabbed Hyunjin’s hand and led him inside. Closing the door behind her she walked over to her kitchen bar, flipping the lights and smiling.

“What can I get you? Scotch, Bourbon,—“

“Do you have any Cabernet Sauvignon? Red?” Your favorite. Hyunjin hadn’t drank wine in so long. He always shared your favorite of dry red wine over dinner. A taste that he hated at first, but grew to love.

“Interesting choice for a man of your nature. Dry red wine wasn’t something that I would have thought you’d enjoy casually.” Jin-Ae grabbed a wine glass and poured the red liquid in less than half way as she walked over to Hyunjin and handed him the drink.

“It’s a taste I’ve grown well acquainted to.” Jin-Ae had Hyunjin sit on her bar stools as Hyunjin lifted the wine glass to take more than a sip of the alcohol. Burning the back of his throat, all he could think about was you.

“Should we talk more comfortably about.. us?”

Jin-Ae caught Hyunjin off guard with her question. He knew that his father had paired her for Hyunjin and she came from another family of mafia leaders. His father thought that a marriage could stem from this relationship and benefit both families, but Hyunjin wasn’t interested in Jin-Ae romantically. He knew where his heart was.“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean.. these small dinner dates are lovely and I am enjoying them. But if we are going to get married shouldn’t we-

“Marriage isn’t definite Jin-Ae.” Hyunjin looked at her more serious taking another sip of his wine.

“But isn’t that the goal. For us to be married?” She looked at him teasingly and Hyunjin clenched his jaw. She smiled softly.

“Your father mentioned that you were in a relationship prior. He assumed you wouldn’t be very accepting to this new phase.”

Jin-Ae leaned in closer to Hyunjin, resting her small hand on his thigh.

“This is all business to me Jin-Ae.” Hyunjin looked at her as she came closer.

“But it doesn’t have to be you know.” Hyunjin began to pull back slowly, her hand gliding up his thigh nearing his dick as she chuckled.

“Jin-Ae..” he whispered.

“We don’t have to be in love to have fun.” Jin-Ae enclosed the space between Hyunjin lips and hers and Hyunjin let her. She kissed him as he responded by kissing her back and letting her hands roam his legs. It was weak. Selfish. The back of Hyunjin’s mind told him to stop because she wasn’t you. The park he felt when you kissed him wasn’t there with her. The butterflies in his stomach were dead when Jin-Ae touched him. He wasn’t being faithful to you at this moment. His mind didn’t click fully until Jin-Aw began to fumble with his belt.

“Stop. I can’t.” Hyunjin pulled back and pushed her hands away.

“Can’t or won’t” Jin-Ae said a bit annoyed and Hyunjin stood from the chair.

“This is just business. You and I.” Jin-Ae facial expression grew disappointed. Hyunjin felt bad for being honest with her, as he suspect that she may have been developing some illusion in her mind that Hyunjin felt the same as her.

“Sorry I should go.”

Hyunjin headed for the door. He shook his head in frustration and scurried to his car before he sat in the seat. He hit the steering wheel hard and cursed out loud. Everything in his life was so twisted. He just wanted to erase everything and just focus on what truly mattered. Hyunjin started the car and began driving back to the home you two had shared together. The home that Hyunjin was told to not return to, in fear of you coming to finish what you started. But every night, this is where he went. In hopes you’d come back to be with him.

When he got to the house and opened the door, he was broken. Angry at the fact that he allowed another woman to touch him, angry that you weren’t home again. He walked in and placed his keys down on the mantle, and looked at the picture sitting there. A picture of you and Hyunjin laughing. How did we get here? He wondered.

It was a daily battle, trying to stay strong enough in front of everyone but feeling so defeated. It never took Hyunjin long to carry the weight of his own body to the couch and curl his legs in. And he cried. Every night.

He was surrounded with your memories. Because that’s all you became anymore, was a memory. You were a piece of his life that he feels so out of touch from. He missed you every day, every second. All while, his grasp of your being was slipping. The way you smelled, the feeling of your hair, how soft your skin was. Everything was fading. He feared as time went on if he would forget, but he had to hold on. He knew you’d be back on day, you had to. He bit his lip as he sat there in the corner of your shared couch and buried his head into his knees. Another night of hopeless praying to follow

A/N: Hello!!! Another week another dramatic chapter. Hopefully this serves you well!! We are almost to 200 followers 🥺. Thank you guys so much! As always share your thoughts and comments. I love you guys 🥰

Taglist: @hyunfeji @zenzedana @datura-inoxia@minaamhh @ninjaleeknow @beethiin @hyunsxle @hwangful

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Bloody Valentine

Summary: There is nothing more romantic than being stuck in an elevator and arguing about terrible life decisions.

a/n: Blame @littleredwing89 for the existence of this. This is, as of the time I’m posting this, the 4th part (chronologically) to my Dick Grayson/Merc!Reader series. It might be better for you to read part 1 or part 2 before reading this as the angst might hit harder if you do.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury. Dick and Reader are both hypocrites with no self preservation. It also gets a little heated(?) in the end but nothing really bad.

Main Masterlist

Dick Grayson Masterlist

Direct Sequel to this: Sweetness

This was not how you pictured your Valentine’s Day.

Sure, you weren’t exactly picturing a candle-lit dinner under the stars or slow dancing in the pale moonlight like a Hallmark movie. But you’re not exactly thrilled to be standing outside an emergency room waiting area, clutching an unopened pack of cigarettes and a spare superman shirt, as per the police chief’s suggestion. You tap your foot impatiently as an officer persuades the hospital staff to let you in as you stupidly forgot to bring any of your IDs. The pack of cigarettes crinkles loudly earning you a withering look from a tired-looking mother.

You take a breath.

You settle yourself in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs they point you to. There’s a scream in your throat. And you’re so close to crying. From frustration, anxiety, fatigue? You couldn’t distinguish.

You flick your eyes to them. Finally, the staff relents and you brush past them brusquely.

Your thoughts spiral. The bile lingers at the back of your throat. Burning. Acidic. Dick had lost a lot of blood but not fatal, they told you. The sob that left your mouth was inhumane. You’d almost dropped the phone. Static and white noise vibrated through your eardrums. In a trance-like state, you walk towards the room they kept him in, tunnel vision guiding you to his door. That’s what shock does to you.

All you can think of is him.

You hold the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, glaring at Dick through the rearview mirror, more specifically the white hospital issued sling cradling his arm. You watch Dick as he pretends to not notice the look you’re needling him with. “I spy with my little eye something… green,” he says absentmindedly as he stares out into the flow of traffic.

You keep your narrowed eyes straight ahead, not even thinking about dignifying his little distraction. Right now, all you were seeing was red.

To your right, Dick sighs dramatically, running his hand through his black hair. “So you’re just going to ignore me, huh?”

You’re not but you sure are trying.

Dick as far as you knew was used to silence but he thrived in noise. He lived off of interactions, good or bad. You’re usually an endless supply of banter and playful quips but right now you needed the silence. You needed him to stew in it along with you. This isn’t to say you were particularly ill-tempered or impatient with people, being friends with someone like Dick necessitated a certain level of patience in your opinion. And sure, you had a sharp tongue but you didn’t lose your temper often. But as you sit there next to him with your teeth grinding, fingers tapping, and muscles clenched, you could feel anger coiling under your skin.

He lets out another sigh, this time sounding genuinely exasperated. Good. “(y/n), I don’t know why you’re upset by this- I’m a cop. We both know the risks.”

The coil under your skin burns and you break hard, pointedly ignoring the loud cursing from the driver behind you. Dick chokes and hisses as the seatbelt digs into his chest. You offer him no sympathy or apology as you shoot him such a glare that whatever smartass remark he has for you dies on the tip of his tongue. Considering all the villains and heroes he’s had glaring at him over the years, you consider this an accomplishment. Dick flinches at the intensity of the anger wicking off of you.

You click your teeth and turn back to the road, seeing the light turn green again. “You were issued a gun for a reason,” you say flatly, opting for this instead of the litany of other ways to say ‘you’re a moron’. You’re polite like that.

It’s Dick’s turn to level you a look but unlike him, you don’t flinch, too caught up in your own anger. “Well, I assessed the situation-”

“You were wrong.”

“- and thought I could deescalate,” he says scowling at you through the mirror. Hurt flashes behind his eyes. He looks… like a mix between petulant and offended but you can’t bring yourself to care to do more than give him a withering look, especially not when you still have his bloodied uniform burned into your mind. You admired his determination to keep the peace the way you admired how uncompromising his stance was on second chances. You really did but… It was the second time he nearly died that week and it was just Tuesday.

You stop again. You close your eyes. Loving someone who could someday not come home to you was not a possibility you had prepared for. You just- You just weren’t ready to care for someone so… destructible. You weren’t sure how to process all the anxiety that came with that, so you turned to anger. It just seemed so much more productive and tangible than the shapeless fear anxiety brought you. “And you nearly got shot in the heart,” you deadpan, heart twinging. You taper your emotions down into something more manageable, something easier to compartmentalize. You can tell Dick was going through the same process. Which one of you was having a harder time, you couldn’t tell.

“He barely grazed me.”

“Correction, you have a hole in your shoulder.” Asshole. You bite back the insult, trying not to escalate the argument. You click your teeth but try not to clench your jaw or grind your teeth. The first person to lose their temper loses the argument.

Dick huffs, resting his chin against his uninjured hand. His eyes flicker to you then the window. “I’ve had worse,” he mutters and your stomach tumbles to the ground getting crushed by the tire. Your mind careens. Your lungs fill up with the smell of ash and gun smoke. For a moment, your eyes do not work. For a moment, you’re in a crumbling building. Your eyes watching the billowing smoke curl against the sky. A blast of heat so hot it makes the liquid in your eyes boil breezes past you.

You feel the flick of Yasiri’s tail on your skin and suddenly your foot is on a gas pedal instead of a broken cement floor. You blink, a tar-like emotion is swimming under your skin. You breathe. You glare at the traffic in front of you if only to focus your vision. “You’re impossible,” you snarl.

In the corner of your eye, Dick peels away from the window, anger flashing in his easy-going features. He’s brandishing a sneer. You brace yourself. Dick… Dick Grayson was a mean son of a bitch when he wanted to be and he knew too much of your hurts. You swallow, gripping the steering wheel. Yasiri swims on your skin, surfacing just enough to get ready to strike but also just enough to be hidden.

Dick opens his mouth but no sound comes out. Dick closes his mouth then opens it again and instead of something truly scathing, Dic opts for something more teasing probably realizing that pissing off your driver is a really bad idea. “You say that like you’re any easier to talk to.”

“At least, I know how to listen,” you bite out, voice drawing dangerously low. Dick’s eyes flicker to you, his shoulders bunching up a fraction. You click your teeth and take a calming breath.

Dick snorts, the knot in his shoulders disappearing. “Yeah, right.”

You bristle. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel contemplating on whether to deck him. You should deck him. You should definitely deck him. Would that open up his stitches? It probably would. You mutter a curse. It feels nice rolling off your tongue and it seems Dick feels the same when he curses in Romani. You catalog the word for later use. Dick turns away from you, glaring out the window. You can see the way his eyes narrow through the reflection in the window. The look in his eyes is a complicated mix of irritation and hurt and regret.

You silently agree to table the discussion, at least, until you got off the road.

You brush past the elevator door, tossing your bag to the corner and leaning against the cool wall of the elevator. Dick enters and leans on the opposite wall, gingerly rubbing his shoulder. Neither of you look at each other. You watch the buttons light up as the elevator climbs up. Your skin is still buzzing from emotions. You thought the quiet drive would right them but… it didn’t.

To your side, you hear the restless tapping of feet. You glance over to Dick whose body is vibrating and itching from movement. Seems you weren’t the only one jittery. You smother a snort in your hand. It was cruel but you find the fact that he’ll be so bored while recovering is slightly funny.

The elevator shakes. You’re thrown off balance. There’s a metallic clunking above you. You both lookup. Dick strains his ears to listen. You quiet your breathing so as not to distract him. He sighs and curses, the side of his fist pounding against the wall. “It’s just broken.” You look at him, eyes wide and dumbfounded.

“Are you fucking with me?”

He shakes his head. “I wish,” he scoffs. You scrunch your nose and Dick sneers. “We’re just gonna have to wait, I guess.” And you press yourself against your wall. “Wonderful.”

You both stew in silence. “I can’t believe I’m stuck...” you mutter under your breath as you try to pry the elevator doors open. Dick rolls his eyes at you. “You can’t open those doors, (y/n),” he ruffles his hair in frustration, “we just need to wait for the fire department, dumbass.”He says, his head lulling back against the wall.

You hiss, your fingers sore and red. “Has anyone ever told you that you were an ass?” You snarl making Dick scowl at you.

“You’ve said so like 5 times in the emergency room and 2 times in- Do you really wanna start this again?!”

You punch the door, creating a deep divet. “You’re goddamn right I wanna start this again because, Richard, for once in your goddamned life I wish you would stop being such a self-centered dickweed!” You seethe. Your knuckles hurt. They feel cool. They’re probably bleeding.

Dick shoots up from the corner. “How am I self-centered?”

“Risking your life like a fucking moron like that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to save those people.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you throw your arms up in exasperation, “do you know just how bad you are at keeping yourself alive because of that fucking hero complex, huh? You dumb. piece. of. Shit.” You take a deep breath and continue your tirade. “You think you’re invincible just cus you run around in tights all night?”

Dick smirks at you. “You never had a problem with my tights when-”

“Check your ego, Grayson. I’ve dealt with a lot of spandex-clad pretty boys before, you’re nothing special.” You want the words to sting.

“Oh please, you dealt with them by putting them in body bags!”

“Yeah! Fuck you! You’ll end up in one the rate you’re going.” Dick is speechless for a moment. Something in Dick’s eyes flares. You flinch and open your mouth to say something but Dick roars, the sound loud in the confined space. “What? Are you gonna tell me to stop being a hero? Are you gonna tell me that I’m not good enough to be Nightwing like how Bruce told me I couldn’t be Robin? Hah?”

Your heart drops and your chest burns. Your hackles draw up as high as they can. You bare your teeth. “No, you fucking moron That’s not the point!”

“What is it then, (y/n)? What do you want from me?!”

“You always go on this damn crusade to save everyone and everything and you don’t bother to take care of yourself or how it would affect others!”

“Wha-”

“No! You don’t- You don’t ever think!”You shove him against the wall, jabbing your finger into his chest.

Dick glares down at you, grabbing your wrist in an almost painful grip. His finger jabs against your collar bone as he gets in your face, his hot breath fanning against your skin. “Fuck you! You’re just as bad as I am! You always throw yourself in front of others at the first sound of gunfire.”

“Dipshit, I have accelerated healing!” you say, ripping your hand out of his grip.

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE INVINCIBLE.”

“Neither are you!” You sob, it comes out wet and raw. You close your eyes. You can still see the blood on his uniform. You sink to the floor, clutching at his shirt. Your tears sting even as they fall to the floor. “Neither are you.”

“(y/n)...” Dick’s shoulders droop as he watches you proud form crumple, entire body shaking. He lowers himself to the ground slowly, careful not to agitate you.

You press forward and bury your face into his shoulder, fist lightly punching his chest. You don’t want him to see you cry. “Dick… I’m not saying you should quit… that- that’s just who you are.” You hiccup, tears flowing.“I just- I don’t want to bury you. I don’t- I can’t lose you, you fucking moron… You can’t just worm your way into someone’s heart and- and- ”

“(Y/n)...” Dick pulls you into his lap and lays his chin on your head. He hadn’t really thought… He should have known. He should have guessed.

You pull away and look him in the eye, eyes bloodshot from crying. “You can’t just expect me to be ok with the possibility you won’t come back to me,” you say lowly, punching his chest. The next few words come out in a shy whisper, low enough that Dick has to strain his ears to hear you. “Dick… I love you. I want to grow old with you, you waste of oxygen.” You cry into Dick’s shoulder not able to face him. Dick shakes his head. He puts his hand on the back of your neck and presses a kiss to your hair. Dick doesn’t know how many times he has to tell you he doesn’t think less of you for crying on his shoulder but he’ll tell you no matter how many times you need to hear it.

You sit in silence with only your muffled sobs and Dick’s comforting words filling the dead air.

“Timmy is gonna kill you for making me cry,” you sniffle, facing him with a wet tear-stained smile.

Dick gives you a crooked smile in return.“ I still have no idea how you managed to turn my siblings against me,” Dick says, planting another kiss on your face but this time on your eyelid just below your brow.

“You say that like it’s hard.”

Dick pouts at you and you cackle loud and high, somehow still managing to sound musical. “I am a lovable big brother-”

“-And I’m a fucking nun-” Dick pinches your ass through your skirt. “We'll have nun of that,”

You grab Dick’s wrist in a tight grip, managing to narrow your eyes at him. “I am not dropping this conversation just to get fucked in an elevator.”

His eyes shine cheekily at the idea.“Wasn't my plan... but that works.”

“Dick…”

Dick leans down, his nose grazing your pulse, brushing like petals against your skin. “Let me make it up to you,” Dick says, licking a stripe up the column of your neck. Ignoring the swell of his pants against your inner thigh, you pinch his cheek, tugging him away from your neck. Your stomach roils at the loss of his lips on your skin but you suppress a whine to glare at him.

Dick looks up at you, mischief lighting his eyes. He pulls away from your hand. His lips find their way back to your neck then back up your jaw. His lips press kisses along your jawline. “It’ll-”kiss”-be-” kiss “-sooo worth it.”

Your breath hitches.“Dick...” you whine, feeling your skin heat. Your mind is buzzing. He smiles against you. His fingers toy with the strap of your bra, tugging it down slowly, carefully, making sure you feel every bit of his movement. “I hear my name-” he kisses your shoulder “-but you’re not stopping me.”

You roll your hips, panting for him. Dick’s tongue is hot against your skin. “C’mon, sweetheart, you know I can make you scream my name with just one hand,” Dick whispers against the shell of your ear. His hand slides down your arm down to your hip, his hand guiding your ass towards his growing bulge. “C’mon, Sweetheart, think about it-” Lick ”-the words I could make you sing.”

“Dick...” you pant, arching your back, pressing your body against his, giving him more access to your neck. Dick nips at your flesh happily. “Honey, I’m going to-”

You yelp, your skin flying off your bones when you hear the elevator doors open. Dick, unphased, continues kissing you and licking up your skin.

“Heeey guys, it’s Grayson,” the fireman calls out to the other men behind him. He turns back to the two of you with a cheeky grin.“Dickie, if I’d known it was you..” He glances towards you, eyes catching on the red hickeys blooming on your shoulder. You want to evaporate. “You guys need a minute?” Dick grins against your skin, looking up at you through thick lashes. “Thanks, Jerry, but we might need more than that.”

You glare down at Dick who simply smiles at you as he nips at your flesh. “What? Feeling shy?” Dick breathes against your neck and all of a sudden, all of the anger and irritation comes creeping back. You shove Dick lightly, standing up and fixing your shirt. “I think he has a concussion. I suggest you check him out,” you snarl, brushing past Jerry leaving Dick on the floor, horny and stunned.

“I’m totally fine!” Dick says, scrambling to his feet and grabbing your bag.

You glare over your shoulder. “Our argument isn’t over.”

“What? But- I thought- We were about to-” Your scowl deepens as you see Dick flounder. Jerry cackles as he gives Dick’s back an unsympathetic pat.

“Sorry about that, Grayson. I guess you were destined to get blue balled,” Jerry laughs shaking his head. Dick sighs deeply, his shoulders drooping. “Are you really sorry?” Dick asks, side-eyeing Jerry. Jerry grins. “Nah, but it’s the thought that counts,” Jerry says, looking all too pleased with himself.

Dick bumps past Jerry gently with a slightly petulant look on his face which earns him a chuckle from Jerry and a glare from you. “Watch the shoulder,” you crow from the hall.

Jerry shakes his head. “No, hero’s welcome, huh?” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s not exactly happy about the hole in my shoulder,” Dick admits, sheepishly. Jerry shoves Dick forward lightly and the other firemen do the same. “Go get ‘er, Tiger!”

Dick falls into step behind you, his lips brushing the back of your neck. His arm wraps around you as he pulls you close. He places a kiss behind your ear. You gasp and you hear hoots behind you. “Dick… Don’t… You can’t solve this with an orgasm,” you sigh, feeling your resolve crumble as his soft lips brushed the weak point of your neck. “Honey… please.” Dick holds you against his chest. The beating of his heart thaws you. “Honey, I’m sorry...” His breath runs down the side of your neck and it feels like feathers caressing your skin. You take a breath. He just knew how to make you melt.

“... I love you too.”

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine

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