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scuttling · 3 years

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Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it’s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

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sadomas0chist · 3 years

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perfect strangers

MINORS DNI // 18+

part one; part two; part three

genre: nsfw

pairings: jean kirschtein x female reader

word count: 2.6k

tags/warnings: penetrative sex, dom jean, fingering, praising kink, slight body worship, dirty talk, sneaky.

synopsis: your recent discovery makes you certain that you won't be able to control yourself around him and neither will he, hence you decide that it was time to make an agreement that was rather spicy.

a.n: hey babies! so i finally decided to turn this into a short series since some of you were intrigued with the idea of having a continuation for the previous part i wrote. i hope you like it, enjoy <3

“How was I supposed to know?!” I yelled as soon as Jean exited our apartment. I had put on a random t-shirt to follow Connie to his room, trying to convince him that I had no idea that I fucked his best friend.

“Y/n he literally told you his name is Jean and he was attending my party. You’re acting as you’ve never seen him before!” he scolded taking off his shirt and throwing it across his room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Connie. The last time I saw Jean I was 16 and he didn’t look like that. He’s so fucking different now how was I supposed to know. And to be fair, he was studying abroad for I don’t know how many years, how was I supposed to know that he metamorphosed like that.” I motioned my arm out, my other hand resting on my hip.

He groaned, rubbing his temples before he looked back at me. “Look,” he spoke softly. “I don’t want to fight with you over this okay? You’re right, I should’ve told you that he was coming back. He graduated a year ago and was considering coming back to his hometown, here. Let’s just forget it all happened okay? It’s a simple misunderstanding.” I nodded, resting my head on his chest as he embraced me into a tight hug.

“Now go take a shower you reek of sex.” he snickered earning a punch on his arm. He winced rubbing his flesh, a proud smile setting on my face.

***

The week went by smoothly. I told Sasha and Hitch what happened and they both had different reactions. Hitch was gushing over the sex and Sasha on the other hand confessed that she forgot to mention that Jean was coming back to stay here. It’s okay though. We all passed it and I was working my ass off to finally graduate.

Connie was spending his days with Jean, which granted me a lot of peace and tranquility. At least, that’s what I thought.

I hadn’t spoken to Jean ever since we hooked up, figured that Connie already explained the whole situation and moved on.

Three knocks on my door broke my focus, a loud frustrated sigh leaving my lips. “What Connie!”

“Actually,” a voice on the other side of the door caught me off guard. “It’s Kirschtein. Can I come in?” A knot formed in my throat.

“Sure.” he turned the knob, slowly coming in. “Connie knows I’m here by the way.” I nodded, adjusting my seat.

“What’s up?” the tension was awkward. The tension shouldn’t even be present in the first place. But how could I not get aroused when he was wearing a black tank top showing off the tattoos on his sleeves with a pair of sweats. He looked effortlessly attractive.

“- and like I said it will never happen again. Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Never happen again. I’m very sorry but I need to finish this assignment.” He chuckled and nodded leaving me alone with my thoughts. Did I just make him talk to himself because I was too busy checking him out?

I shook my head, assuming that whatever he said wasn’t worth my time. Time went by rather quickly and the assignment was done earlier than I expected. It was already ten pm, and I had promised the girls I was going to meet up with them for some drinks.

I picked my outfit and applied some makeup. Simple and effective. We were going to spend the night at Sasha’s so I didn’t make much effort to look hot.

The place was empty when I left and I assumed that Connie was helping Jean to rent an apartment for himself.

Sasha’s place wasn’t very far from mine. As a matter of fact, it only took me ten minutes to get there. Once I got there, the girls were already ordering pizza and picking out some movies to watch.

“Hey whores.” I greeted them, earning cheers from Hitch and Sasha. “Oh my god, Mikasa I missed you!” I rushed to the dark-haired girl who was sitting on the couch and engulfed her into a tight hug. I haven’t seen Mikasa since I moved with Connie. We used to live together, but after she and Eren got together, he wouldn’t leave her alone. So I figured it would be best if I left and lived with my brother.

“I missed you too! I looked for you everywhere at that party where were you?” she asked taking a sip of her soda. Hitch began coughing dramatically as Sasha giggled next to her. “Oh quit it.” I teased rolling my eyes.

I ended up telling her everything, her face displaying a plethora of expressions. “I mean, Jean did change I can’t argue with that. But didn’t he recognize you?”

I shrugged. “I changed too. Puberty hit me like a truck.”

“Cheers to that.” Hitch raised her cup. We laughed and talked for hours. I missed going out with them like that. Fortunately, college will be over soon and I’ll have some time for myself.

Movies were playing in the background but we paid them no mind. We ate our food and cleaned the living room, not wanting to bother Sasha with the cleaning since she was having Niccolo over tomorrow.

I glanced at the clock that was hanging above the door. I gathered my stuff and tucked them in my bag, drawing all of their eyes on me.

“Already? Come on stay longer!” Sasha whined. I smiled softly at her and shook my head.

“I can’t, I’ll see you guys soon.” I waved at them and walked out of the door.

***

“Connie! I’m ho- what are you still doing here?” I froze at the entrance, my keys still hanging from my index finger, my eyes fixated on him as he only stood in basketball shorts.

“What do you mean what am I still doing here. I moved in here remember?”

Silence. Nothing but intense and awkward silence. Moved in? Since when?

“I told you when I came into your room. Weren’t you listening to me?” I stared at him blankly, not able to explain how caught in thought I was when he came into my room. I was too busy checking him out to care about what he was trying to tell me.

“Why didn’t Connie tell me?” I closed the door and locked it slowly, my legs feeling weak, the idea of living with him and seeing him walking around like that making me weak. And extremely horny.

“He said he’d rather if I told you. You know, break the ice.” he shrugged and walked forward, his chest now a few inches apart from mine. “You changed a lot from what I remember.” he lowly said tucking my hair behind my ear.

“So did you,” I replied, staring at his lips. He licked his bottom lip and held my chin between his fingers, forcing me to maintain eye contact.

I was a sweating mess. I still couldn’t believe that this was Jean, the horse face. What kind of water did he drink, and how did he get so big? Look at those muscles-

A sudden feeling on my lips interrupted my chain of thoughts. I soon realized that he held my bottom lip between his brown ones. “Kiss me back y/n, I know you want to,” he whispered, his breath brushing up my face.

It didn’t take me long to pull him to me, crashing my lips on his. He was intoxicating in ways I couldn’t understand nor explain. I needed him close to me at the moment and I didn’t care why.

“Yo, Jean where did you my video game?!” Connie’s voice boomed from the hallway, forcing us apart. Realization slapped my face when I looked at him and saw his cocky smirk. I just kissed him, even though I promised myself I’d never do anything with him ever again.

“I’ll get it!” he yelled back, the same expression resting on his face, his back facing the hallway. “I’d apologize, but you pulled me back. Anyway, I’ll see around beautiful.” he winked and began walking towards Connie’s room, his back muscles flexing at his movements.

What am I doing with myself?

***

The atmosphere felt nice. I couldn’t sleep so instead I lied down on my bed and watched the stars from my window. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened hours ago and how I had to sit with them and pretend as nothing happened.

Jean was certainly not the little boy he was years ago. He got more confident and a lot more handsome. He was fucking with me and I thought, why shouldn’t I fuck with him too?

After all, I know for sure he didn’t tell Connie anything. He’s too protective of me and if he knew, well let’s just say Jean would be moving out by tomorrow. He trusts him blindly and I honestly just think he doesn’t want me to hook up with him again because he’s just like him.

He likes to mess around. Not the type to stay in the morning after. But neither was I. I sighed and dragged my legs out of bed, my body following.

“Shit now I gotta pee,” I whined stomping slightly on the wooden floor. I ruffled my hair with my hand and slipped on my slippers. I was wearing Connie’s t-shirt, so it was long enough to hide my thighs.

I walked to the bathroom when suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into the guest bedroom. My mouth was quick to be silenced by another hand as I was about to squeal.

My back collided with the wall, my hands pinned on each side of my head.

“Jean let me go.” I struggled to get out of his grasp but he kept grinning at me. “Sure.” He let go of his grasp.

I looked around to notice a towel on his bed. “I was going to take a shower but then I heard your footsteps, couldn’t let you get there before I did.” He walked away, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

“Is that all?” I cocked my eyebrow, crossing my arms. He looked me up and down before saying: “You tell me. Need anything else?”

I looked at him briefly, calculating my next move. “An agreement. Connie can’t know.”

“Fuck yeah.” he dropped his towel and stepped closer to me, holding my face with his hands as he crashed his lips on mine. I kissed him back instantly, my fingers finding their way through his hair.

His tongue slipped in, caressing mine. His hands went down my body to squeeze my ass, pulling me even closer to him. My hands traveled across his bare chest, going over his pecs and then gliding one hand down his abs, while the other sat on his shoulder.

We pulled apart, his arms going under my thighs to pull me up and sit me onto the mattress. He walked to the door, locking it before he looked back at me.

Jean crawled over my body, caging me between his arms. “Divine.” he smiled and sat up, his hands tugging at my top. I helped him take it off and threw it on his chair. I was nude underneath him. It wasn’t the first time, yet he still looked mesmerized.

He licked his lips, his fingers tracing my cunt before dipping into my entrance. I arched my back at the sudden intrusion, trying my best to remain quiet.

“I missed your little cunt.” he chuckled massaging my insides slowly. I gasped, my hand immediately covering my mouth.

He rubbed my bud with his thumb, his pace never changing. It was torturing and slow, but I knew we couldn’t make a lot of noise nor make lots of movements that could awake Connie. We had to go nice and easy.

My legs squirmed, the combination of playing my nipples and watching him touch like he does driving me to the edge. My eyes rolled to the back as he added a third finger, my walls clenching tightly around them as I felt myself orgasm around them. “Good girl.” he praised with a chuckle, removing his fingers from my opening.

“Suck your juices off come on.” he tapped my hand, motioning me to remove it and take his fingers in. I stuck my tongue out, his ling digits finding their way down my throat making me slightly gag. “I didn’t know you were such an obedient girl.” he cooed, as I sucked off my arousal.

Jean sat back up, removing his shorts along with his briefs, his erection slapping on my lower stomach. “As much as I’d love you to suck me,” he paused pumping his cock. “I have to say that I miss being inside you.” And with that, he slid all the way in, his mouth silencing my moans.

He stayed still for a while, his eyes staring into mine intensely, almost as if he was trying to tell me something. I nodded my head, his hips moving at my signal. His thrusts were slow and deep, going over every spot. I wrapped my arms around him, my forehead resting against his, as he breathed heavily.

“I want to fuck you dumb, but he’ll hear your moans.” he taunted rolling his hips, his tip almost hitting my cervix. “So good.” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around him, my heels digging into his lower back.

“Jean…” I was close and my legs were a shaking mess. “That’s right baby, say my name.” he breathed in my ear, slightly speeding up his thrusts. I bit onto his shoulder, my orgasm ripping through my body.

I tightened around him, his strokes getting sloppier. It came to my attention that he wasn’t wearing protection, and I wasn’t about to get adventurous like last time. “Jean… pull out…”

“Beg.” was his only reply to which I complied. “Please, anywhere, just not-“ He harshly pulled out, and instead of jerking himself on my stomach, he reached up to straddle my chest and stroked himself. “Open.”

I stuck my tongue out, his hand now replaced with mine as I jerked him off, ropes of cum shooting down my throat. “Such a good girl.” he chuckled, rubbing his hand over his face.

He got off me and pulled his hair back using both hands, his naked body walking around the bed to grab some tissues. He cleaned off my arousal and handed me some to clean the corners of my lips.

“If only you could see how messed up you look,” he smirked and threw me my t-shirt before grabbing his towel and sliding on his shorts.

I put on my top and got off his bed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and internally yelled at myself. I looked like a mess. My hair was tangled and my skin was all sweaty. Guess I have to take a shower too.

I looked over at Jean to see him staring at me with an amused look on his face. “What?” I cocked my eyebrow. He shrugged and smiled at me. “Connie and I are going out to get some lunch tomorrow. What’d you say?” he requested.

“I mean yeah sure. But Jean he can-“

“Can’t know alright.” he rolled his eyes. We stared at each other for a minute before I decided to leave his room.

As I made my way past him, his hand flew to cup my swollen cunt. “This belongs to me.”

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean x reader smut #jean x you #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #jean smut #aot requests #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #aot fandom #aot smut #snk smut #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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demonsandmischief · 3 years

Text

Misunderstanding

Marvel - A Bucky Barnes Imagine

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, 1.1K Words

A misunderstanding causes a rift in your relationship.

----

Six hours.

It had been six hours since you had last seen Bucky Barnes. Considering you had lived together for the past few months, it felt like a long time.

He had walked right out the front door without looking back, and you were not sure he was ever going to come home.

You didn't even know what you did. That was the worst part. Somehow, it was all your fault that he was gone, but you didn't even know why. You had created every imaginable situation in your head, stressed yourself to several breakdowns, and yet, you were still clueless.

The thing about Bucky was he was not a man of many words, so when he came storming through the house, it had shocked you more than anything. To your surprise, he had blamed you for the cause of his reaction.

He never answered his stupid old phone.

The house was eerily quiet. It was like your world had shifted from full color to black and white.

You wiped away the tears with the back of your hand, probably for the millionth time. Was it even worth it to cry over?

Yes, absolutely. You loved Bucky with all your heart. All you wanted was him. You wanted to walk through the front door and explain what happened. If he wanted to break up after that, it would be easier to handle then this. What could you have possibly done to cause such a brash reaction from a relatively collected man?

It had to be close to midnight. You had been drifting in and out of a terrible sleep. It felt like you hadn't slept in days.

Bucky's t-shirt was the only thing that brought you comfort.

The opening of the front door had you jolting awake in a panic. You hated being alone in the house.

You clutched the blanket tightly as you heard the sound of boots on the hard wood. You were still half-asleep, but just as terrified.

When your bedroom door opened, you screamed. The lights flicked on and Bucky stood there looking very annoyed.

"Bucky, you scared the shit out of me," you groaned, clutching your head that throbbed from the harsh light.

"I can tell," he grumbled. He looked awful, but you imagined you looked the same. You were so very relieved to see him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. It was obvious he wasn't there for you.

"I live here," he said, walking to the closet. "I just came to get some stuff."

You could feel your wounded heart shrivel painfully in your chest. Tears blurred your vision.

"Can you please tell me what I did?" you whispered, praying he heard you because you knew you wouldn't have the strength to say it again.

It was quiet except for the sound of clothes getting pulled off hangers and the sound of the dresser drawers opening.

Tears spilled onto your cheeks and you did not bother to brush them away this time.

He emerged finally, a duffle on his shoulder. "I overheard you talking."

"You what?" your voice cracked, and you sniffled.

"On the phone, with your friend."

You furrowed your brows, thinking back.

"Yeah, when he says 'what if I'm a bad guy not a hero' or whatever. So stupid," you giggled, trying to pull the silly movie quotes from your head.

"There's one in the in other movies where Bella says something about hurting Edward. I don't know, but I need Edward quotes," your friend whined on the phone. "Who would have thought a psychology class would make me analyze Twilight?"

"Stand-offish and possessive equals awkward and cringe-y. I have so many words to describe," you said, remembering the way you barely made it through the first movie. "There's the one about the 'I'm designed to kill' you know what I'm talking about?"

"That's a good one. Thanks for the help. We should totally rewatch these movies after this."

"James Buchanan Barnes," you groaned. You didn't even know he had been listening to your conversation. You definitely understood how it sounded like you were talking about him. "Did you really think I would talk about you like that? You should have asked me for an explanation before you stormed off."

Bucky dropped his bag, and moved to the bed.

"I was talking about a movie, Bucky. A stupid movie, that was all. I can't believe-" you shook your head. All of this time. What did that say about his trust in you?

"I'm sorry," Bucky said slowly. "I guess I was looking for a reason for it to be too good to be true."

"I was just - I was doing everything I could to show you how much I loved and cared about you. I can't believe you would think I would talk about you like that. I thought you knew how much I adored you." You rubbed your eyes that burned from crying so much.

"I shouldn't have assumed," he said, finally looking at you. You caught a glimpse of his sad, stormy eyes, full of insecurities and vulnerabilities.

"Mistakes happen," you whispered. "I would never, ever talk badly about you. I love you."

You scooted closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around you. He put his face in your neck, releasing a shaky breath. This had really taken a toll on him.

You threaded your fingers through his hair.

"I understand if you hate me," he said, pulling back, and tugging you between his thighs.

"I could never. I love you," you repeated.

"I love you," he said back finally. "I missed you. I won't leave without talking to you again." He tightened his grip, squishing you to his chest.

"Good," you smiled slightly. You were glad to get this cleared up, but it was still so ridiculous.

"Go ahead and laugh," Bucky huffed, a crooked smile of his own just barely breaking through.

You released the giggle you had been holding in. "I'm going to make you watch the movie so you can see how ridiculous this was."

"I do feel like an idiot. I've wasted the day I could have spent with you," he admitted, running a hand along your face.

"Everybody has insecurities and doubts. These things happen." You nuzzled his hand.

You thought you'd be more hurt, but you were so relieved to have him hear you out, to have him here with you.

"So understanding and sweet," he mumbled, bending his head and brushing his lips with yours. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for your love."

Your heart swelled with his sweet confession. "You're my everything, Bucky. I was so scared of being without you."

He rubbed your back, kissing your forehead with a content sigh, "You'll never be without me. I promise to do better."

----

A/N: I was listening to a sad playlist and then this happened. Soft insecure Bucky 🥺 no but figuring out where you stand in a relationship is hard work and things happened. It was hard to find something that could cause a serious issue and I think this worked out pretty well. Poor Buck doesn't know twilight - but I bet Sam Wilson does 😭

What did you think? I'd love to know.

#bucky barnes #bucky imagine #marvel imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky #james buchanan barnes #twilight #sebastian stan #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws imagine #tfatws #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #fatws bucky #bucky angst #angst #bucky fluff #marvel one shot

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lovesick-panmess · 3 years

Text

Protect Them

Soo I know I'm way overdue with the 3rd part of my Armageddon AU but I've actually been replaying the lessons so I get a proper feel for what I'm writing, so to make up for it and to get this idea out of my head I've been thinking about it for days here is a related fic between the oldest brothers

-------

Levi can count on one hand how many times he's seen Lucifer coming home injured. The Avatar of Pride could easily crush irrelevant demons with his glare and he proved worthy of Diavalo's right-hand man for a reason... But the first time that Levi remembers was on a travel mission with Lord Diavalo within a year after their fall from grace. It was a distant memory, seeing Lucifer stumble up the stairs blooded up and adamantly refusing care from any of them, even Mammon who was following behind his every footstep. He had gotten used to such behavior and just settled for turning up his headphones on his way to the safe haven that was his room, stopping when he noticed the eldest's door cracked open. He watched Mammon gingerly wrap the bandage around his shoulder, blinking back tears in his eyes and shaking his head vehemently as Lucifer spoke. The music was loud and distracting he just settled for reading their lips-

"Mammon I need you to do this for me.."

"I won't! There's no need, ya just paranoid-!"

Watching the tears well up made Levi shift, uncomfortable and jealous, wondering what bond allowed them to be so vulnerable so open. Hadn't they all fought their father together? Rallied behind him so readily behind Lucifer, their Morningstar that only shined a light that only Mammon was allowed to see. He lingered before continuing to walk down the hall, to dwell in his own sunken loneliness but hearing Mammon speak one more time before the door had shut.

"..I'll do it, alright? Just stop ya crying, Luci.."

He had felt the deja vu of that very moment playing out in front of him, though this time he was hiding from Mammon in his secret spot in the living room. They had planned to go to the movies in an hour and Levi knew that Mammon would try to find him to convince him to pay for the tickets yet again so he decided to wait out the time so that scumbag would have to bring his wallet. It was a surprise to see the door open, everyone else is out and Lucifer's return to be scheduled for a few more days, but instead, the eldest had come early with visible wounds and beatings. Levi felt frozen, debating on whether he should slip out to help or stay putt but once again Mammon comes down the stairs like it's his calling. "Lucifer? Let me help you!" Denial was the first given reaction, the eldest's heart too hard and stubborn to ask for help before collapsing into Mammon's arms.

Levi followed with anxiety brewing in his chest, now wanting to just hide away in his room since plans were clearly on hold and he could do nothing to help the pair. Not like they would want his help, a shitty pathetic otaku wasn't much good at bandaging wounds, not like he was able to get much practice like Mammon did. Jealousy seethed, it made his heart race as he hid to the side of the door at the mention of his name.

"We have to tell him, Mams."

"We don't have to tell him shit! It's fine like this...Levi doesn't have to be involved."

It was confusing to be thrown out of the loop, but it hurt to hear Mammon so effortlessly fight to not include him. Maybe the second-born felt that Levi wasn't worth it? Too weak and unable to do..whatever it is they are arguing about, even so, it was odd-looking into Lucifer's room. Mammon unafraid of the eldest's temper and even being so bold as to glare at him while cleaning his cuts, Lucifer had an expression of utter fondness that was intertwined with an unlabeled fear, one that only he seemed to see.

"Mammon, you know it takes a lot out of me to..admit this. I'm almost jealous that you're able to view me so..."

Shit shit shit, he had been so entrapped in their conversation and his own envy he hadn't realized that it was emitting throughout the hall. He stiffens when Lucifer calls his name, slipping out from where he was hiding and now embarrassed. "Levi..come here please." He notes that Mammon refuses to look at him, biting his bottom lip hard as he sits next to his brother, so not used to this soft tone from him. He really must have stepped into a completely different world, one where Lucifer is willing to fight tooth and nail with his own pride in order to tell them the truth. And what a horrid truth it must be.

"Lucifer what's going on? Why is Mammon..." He trails off, feeling Lucifer's hand skim through his hair, and despite his own embarrassment leaned into the comforting touch and suddenly the bottle of Demonus was looking very tempting. "Levi...I would like to involve you in something very important, in order to protect the others." Lucifer's words were slow, each one taking some kind of will to overcome his pride, his wings twitching in what Levi could easily place as anxiety and one he knew way too well. "I'm not allowed to say anything about the threat outside of the Devildom but it puts us at risk and I...There may be a chance I won't come back."

His stomach drops, he doesn't realize that he's shaking until he feels Mammon's arms wrapping around his shoulder, shaking his head in pure denial. Not Lucifer, the most powerful one of them all, their eldest brother not coming back. Such thoughts were unfathomable to even believe, much less considered as a probability to the point that they had to talk about it. Acknowledge it and take action, Lucifer keeps talking and Mammon presses Levi closer to his chest, "I talked this with Mammon since the beginning but now we believe it's time to tell you in case something were ever to happen to the both of us and you would decide when to tell Satan..."

The prospect of such responsibility makes Levi feel like a fish out of water as he gulps for air yet in that same breath go on a rampage of self-deprecation and drowning doubt. How he's not ready, he's a good-for-nothing shitty pathetic otaku, he can't protect his brothers, he's weak, he's nothing, if Lucifer and Mammon are gone then there would be no fucking hope for them. The two oldest look at each other, small bits of regret building up from the pressure and burden they had put on him, Mammon gently rubbing his back and Lucifer cupping his face. "Leviathan please breathe."

His body does it automatically before he can think about it, the air in his lungs felt like boiling water as the panic slowly dissipates in his chest. All that was left was his own soft mutterings, so sure that Lucifer was probably disappointed that he has to trust in Levi of all people to protect them, he leans against Mammon who nudges him affectionately before resting his head on his shoulder. "I...I haven't really done anything good since...I was General...how can you be so sure in me?" He asks but squirms unready for whatever the answer might be, though he's unable to mistake Lucifer's radiating pride that he feels.

"Who's the one who came up with the plan on where to steal the weapons in the Celestial Realm?"

"M-Me but I-"

"And who helped convince the others to lay low while we defended the base?"

"I did but Luci-"

"Who's the one who took an arrow for Mammon while he was trying to protect me?"

"Lucifer-!"

He gets cut off with a flick on his forehead, his lips set in a pout but meeting the Morningstar's expression that made butterflies bloom in his stomach from overwhelming pride had him turn away and looking down at the floor. "Levi, get out of your head for one second and look at how smart and tactical you are. When it matters...when there is no time to panic. You're the third strongest family for a fucking reason, you should start believing it." The unusual confidence makes him flush but it's really Lucifer's words that bring the tears, no longer from fear but slowly coming to the realization that Lucifer and Mammon too had faith in him...they always did.

"Do ya still wanna join the pact? If ya wanna think about it, ya still can Levi." He blinks at the fact that Mammon had really been silent this whole time and just hugging him, the second born now getting up to tighten the remaining bandages. "Did you think about it, Mammon?" Levi knew the answer in his gut, only the blind would question the unwavering devotion that Mammon and Lucifer had for each other, only further cemented as the Avatar of greed simply shakes his head. He feels a small smile form on his face, "Then I don't need to think about it...I want to do this."

By the next few hours, any of the remaining tension and somber feelings had slipped away, replaced by a calm atmosphere that usually would not last long in the House of Lamentation. The melody of the cursed record floated and hung in the air as Levi rested on the floor in his demon form, the pact officially made and learning about the secret doorway by Lucifer's bookcase, definitely locking that information into memory. He sees Mammon grinning above him, curiosity embedded in his features, "So where'd ya decide to put the pact mark?" Levi lifts his sweater, the symbol of the three still glow fresh on the side by his ribs, and Mammon hissing with empathy.

He wanted it to hurt weirdly enough, to serve as a forever reminder that this pain was temporary but the pain of losing his brothers would surely last till the end of time. Mammon shows the mark on his hand, Lucifer clicks his tongue in disapproval as someone might ask about the pact but the second brother waves his concern away. He enjoys looking at the pact, the constant reassurance that they would be okay when the word goes to absolute shit, and Lucifer couldn't find any argument against that. They both look at the eldest who crosses his arms with a sharp, "No-" before puppy eyes come into play and Lucifer's pride can not save him from that.

What they both don't expect is for Lucifer to turn around and spread his wings out as if to show off, but then they see it. The markings trailing up his spine and next to the scars of where his two wings used to be, Levi is the first to reach up and touch it, internally blaming the remnants of Lucifer's pride that is making him so bold. He sees his hand tremble but luckily he is able to hold his voice steady, "Just because we made this pact..doesn't mean you both get to just fuck up. Y-You both should always come home." Lucifer nods, Mammon kisses his cheek and Levi struggles to hide his tears.

When Levithan leaves the room while closing the door behind him, reality, as he knew it just a few hours ago, wasn't all that different and he can hear Asmo drunkenly cheering as Satan carries him through the door. "Hey, Levi! Don't hide in your room- you better come join us." He doesn't give his thoughts a chance, heading down the stairs with a small smile. The world hadn't changed, but Levi would be forever.

----------

AHHH THIS HAS BEEN SITTING THE DRAFTS FOREVER I'M SO GLAD I FINISHED IT. Please please let me know if I should make an explanation post of how the pacts would work (it will most likely be headcanons cause I don't know how they work in canon 😪😪)

either way, I really hope you enjoyed the fic as I did writing it! I'm still working on the next part for the Armageddon AU so bear with me 😭

#obey me #angst #lucifer angst #mammon and lucifer #obey me angst #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date?#obey me leviathan #levi angst #mammon and levi #mammon angst #Lucifer angst #armageddonau

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years

Text

Warm Bodies ~ JJK [Request]

⤜WORD COUNT: 5.3K

⤜PAIRING: Jungkook X Zombie! Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: movie inspired, zombie reader, turning human, Jungkook very protective over them, supernatural themes; zombies; cannibalism, a little fast paced, love heals everything, angst, shooting, mentions guns and blood, use of knife FAST PACED

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2022

⤜A/N: I have never seen this film so I am going off what I know T-T I couldn’t find a single platform to watch it on either so I’m so sorry!

⤜ MASTERLIST

When the virus first hit it was believed to be anything bad. Government officials labelled it as just another common cold, something everyone would eventually get before our bodies seemed to build up an immunity to them. It certainly spread as if it was a virus, going from person to person from a simple touch or breathing in the same air as one another. The symptoms were the usual, sweating and cold sweat, then came the cough. The cough that was near impossible to stop from hurting which was swiftly followed by spitting up blood.

If only back then you knew what you knew now.

This so-called Virus wasn't just a "common cold" it was a zombie virus, something you never would have believed if you hadn't seen it first hand. A virus that turned people into flesh-eating monsters that were all on the hunt to feed on brains. As the virus spread Government and higher-ups all went into hiding, going into underground bunkers and leaving people to deal with the disease on their own.

It was believed that those infected with the virus were doomed from the start. The second the virus was set in their systems they would crave human flesh and would stop at nothing to get them...But that just wasn't true and you knew personally.

It killed you to be craving something you knew that wasn't right, you hated the thought of killing someone just so that you could live and would regularly stop yourself at all times possible. Only killing those who were trying to kill you and your kind, after all...They started it.

"Come," Someone grunted in your left ear, turning you saw the one person you called your best friend. "V"

V had been there for you when you had woken up infected with the virus and even though the two of you could only speak through grunts and one-worded sentences you developed a friendship. Relying on one another in the abandoned town that you resided inside of, going to eat together making sure to protect one another from the outside world. It was hard when everybody wanted you dead but you knew why.

You had been on that side of the battle. Before any of this, you had been the one holding a gun and shooting at those who tried to eat your comrades. Even though you were no longer human you could still remember everything from your human days and the day you turned was the clearest memory that you had. It had started off as one of the best days of your life but quickly changed when you turned.

"Jungkook relax," You giggled as you looked at your very worried boyfriend who was patting down your clothing. Doing his best to make sure every angle of it was covering you and not a single piece of your skin was on display. Both of you were dressed in army gear, wearing all of the protection that the two of you could manage, no risk of being touched by the infected.

The two of you had been together for almost four years, you'd met when you joined the military together and although he had annoyed you for the first year you fell hard for him.

Both of you eventually began to date and develop a life together. Now you were both in charge of different teams all striving toward the same goal.

Killing all of the Zombies. Today was one of the days your team would be going out without Jungkook and he didn't like it. For as long as you can remember knowing Jungkook he was protective, extremely protective and watching over your every single move. But all in a good way. Jungkook felt as though he had to look after you, you were the only person he had in his life he finally opened up to.

"I hate this, why do you have to go alone? We're stronger together," He told you through a sigh as you smiled weakly, raising your hand up to his cheek and smiling weakly. It was an order from someone higher up and nothing either of you could say or do would change that order.

"I'll be back before you even know it, we both know I can kick ass." You smirked as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him closer as you smiled.

There were a lot of moments like this between the pair of you, where you would be alone and for that one brief moment you would just forget the state of the outside world. Just be with one another as you stared into one another's eyes, going back to the times when all you were training for was a war believed to be years away.

"You do but I want to give you something before you go." He whispered, pressing his lips against yours over and over again as you nodded. For months Jungkook had been preparing himself for this and it was finally going to happen.

"Here," He smiled as he dug deep into his chest pocket and pulled out a silver chain and right on the end was a diamond ring. Something you had seen months ago in a storefront window and mentioned how nice you had found it.

"Jungkook?"

"I'm not asking...I'm simply putting the idea forward that when we get out of this I will ask you to marry me," Your eyes stared down at the ring that was spinning around on the chair, your heart rattling against your chest as you couldn't help but smile brightly.

"I want you to keep it around your neck if you agree." The way he said it sounded more of a question but you nodded, tearing up as Jungkook began to lay the necklace around your neck. Leaning down to kiss you once the clasp was done up.

"Mine," He whispered to you before you heard your name being called. The small romantic session between you both shattered right in front of your eyes as you were reminded where you were and why.

Shortly after your name was called out you were drowned by zombies, all of them killing those around you. Attacking and killing everybody that was on your army base. Jungkook and you had been split up by a wave of Zombies rushing over to you, one had bitten in your neck before being shot by a sniper. You could still remember the feeling of the virus spreading throughout your body, the burning sensation as you lay on the floor screaming but no one heard you. All of your screams were muffled by the sound of others dying around you being ripped apart then everything faded to black and you woke up with V far away from the base.

"You...Think....too...much." V grunted as you both continued to slowly stumble toward the airport together, grunting at him as you saw what you were holding in your cold hand. The necklace hadn't left your neck ever and even though you hadn't ever seen Jungkook again you never wanted to take it off. It was still a part of you even if he wasn't here anymore.

"Here," You mumbled pushing open a door to the abandoned airport, it was one of the biggest places Zombies seemed to hide out in. V and you both had a home here, or somewhere you called home.

Neither of you slept since you couldn't but you still stayed somewhere and it was somewhere safe. For you, you stayed in an abandoned plane, surrounded by things you'd found as a Zombie, mostly human things you loved in your old life. Albums were something you always found yourself bringing back with you to stash them in the same place as the others that you had collected.

As you walked through the airport you frowned feeling something wrong. There was a nagging inside of you that made you feel uneasy as you walked. It was far too quiet inside of the abandoned airport, normally there would be a large gathering of Zombies inside but this time it was almost empty. A few looked very scared so you looked around you, trying to assess what was going on when it hit you. It was the 26th of the Month meaning that different army groups were attacking different places in the city. The only reason you had known this was because of your time in the attacks, you had been sent to Airports and hospitals trying to take back places.

"Stop." You grunted loudly reaching for V but he had already opened the door to the main waiting room. The second the door opened you were met with screams from humans followed by the sound of guns firing rapidly doing their best to kill everyone that was inside of the room. Clearly, they were losing since most of their men were down and being attacked by other Zombies around them.

"Down," V grumbled as he yanked you onto the floor beside a dead body, your rule was never to eat those who were alive. You never wanted to be the one to kill somebody so you would only ever eat leftovers or animals if you could ever find any.

"JIN SHOOT!" Someone screamed orders out quickly followed by screams of pain as they were quickly taken down by a team of Zombies. Glancing up you turned to look around the room, ignoring the body in front of you as you tried to make sure those who were trying to kill you were gone but that was when you saw it.

One human staring at you from under the table beside you, his hands clutching his gun while it aimed in your direction. The man had every chance to kill you but it was as if he was paralyzed with fear, you crawled on your hands and knees as you inched closer to him suddenly you stopped.

Inside of you, you could have sworn your felt your heart let out one beat but that was impossible...When you were infected your heart stopped beating and you were legally dead. As you crawled closer your heart did it once again and you stared at the man in front of you.

"Kookie." You managed to say as he looked at you, eyes flicking between your eyes and the necklace that was now on full display for him to see around your neck.

"Y/n?" The second his voice left his throat you could have sworn you felt your heartbeat again but your headshot around to see people closing in. They could smell him even if they couldn't see him just yet so you reached beside him, wiping blood from one of the deceased Zombies beside him onto his face. Grunting a little as you took his hand in yours and slowly crawled out from under the table, V's eyes on your the whole time.

"Go." He grunted at you as you and Jungkook began to slowly make your way out of the room and in the direction of the exit, doing your best to drag Jungkook to make it look like he was one of you. The whole time Jungkook's eyes were on you, staring at you as if he couldn't believe that you were really there beside him. That you were the one thing he hated more in the entire world but he was going with you anyway. Forgetting everything he had been conditioned to believe when he saw you, functioning as if you were still human.

Nothing he believed to know was true, they were trained to believe all of you were monsters who couldn't see anything but your own hunger but you were living proof that was wrong. Jungkook squeezed your hand as he walked with you, not caring if the virus spread to him if he had you by his side he was coming up with ways to save you. To take you back and figure out why you were this way.

Both of you just stared at one another from opposite sides of the plane, your legs brought into your chest as you stared at Jungkook. This whole time you had imagined him to be dead, you figured he would have gotten infected at the same time as you. You thought he had gotten infected and was wandering around just as you were but there he was, completely healthy and yet it wasn't your Jungkook. Your Jungkook usually had bright eyes that would never dull, a giant smile on his face that would hardly ever move.

"C-Cut." You grunted lifting your hand to your eyebrow signally the abrasion that was on the same spot on his face, bleeding a lot. Jungkook mirrored your actions as he touched the same spot on his face, hissing when he felt the small cut just above his head.

"Help," You said as you got down onto the floor, going to the end of the plane rooting around in boxes while Jungkook watched in shock. This whole time he had been conditioned to believe that all of the Zombies were alike, that all they cared about was feeding the hunger that they so desperately craved.

"You can speak?" His voice finally came out but it was strained and shakey, the boy was terrified that the person he knew was gone but there was another part of him that believed you would never hurt him. Turning to look at him you nodded going back to what you were doing.

It was the strangest thing to him, you still looked as you did when you were human only you looked sick. Your skin was sweating and you had cuts all over your face and hands, not to mention the bite mark on your neck that had never healed. For weeks after the attack, he had looked for you, frantic to find any sign that you had somehow made it out of it all alive.

"Are you human?" He questioned as you slowly began to make your way over to him, giving him the small green box that was filled with first aid items. Your eyes slowly lifted to look at him as you tried to think of a way to tell him, it wasn't as if you could speak in full sentences so you reached your hand out. Take his warm hand in yours and put it on your chest. The place where your heart should have been but there was nothing, no beating, no warmth.

"You didn't kill me," He spoke as he cleaned up the wound on his head, his eyes never once leaving your body as you went back to sitting at the other side of the plane. Wanting to give him some kind of space, it must have been scary for him to see you this way and to think he was going to die back there.

"Don't...like to....eat." You managed to get out slowly as you looked out of the window, the deserted airport looked more deserted now that most of the Zombies had been taken out by Jungkook and his team.

"But you're a zombie...You eat humans, you're supposed to kill me." You stared at him confused, Jungkook had every opportunity to go and run away. It wasn't as if you were keeping him trapped here with you he was free to leave at any point that he wanted but without a gun or a safe way out he would die.

"No." You grumbled looking over at the pile of animal bones in the corner, something you tried to eat as often as possible so you wouldn't have to eat humans.

"Are you still Y/n?" Your eyes went back to Jungkook as you slowly took the necklace off from around your neck, holding it in your hand. This time Jungkook moved to get closer to you, sitting on a chair beside you as you looked at the ring.

"Still...Same...Just-" You stopped as you tried to think of a way to describe what it was that you were. You could still think and act like a human but this was completely different, you couldn't speak, you could hardly walk and you didn't have a beating heart.

"No ... heartbeat..." You slowly trailed off as Jungkook nodded his head, putting his hand back where you had placed it before lifting his eyes to look at you.

"You still look the same, you still act the same." He whispered a little shocked that you didn't seem to change from the way he had known you before. You nodded at him and smiled weakly, trying to think of a way to explain all of what was happening inside of you.

"I..I-I'm me...Just different." As you sat across from Jungkook you began to realise how much easier it seemed for you to be able to speak now. Whereas before it was near impossible while you were near him you could form more words together, speak for longer than a grunt.

"We have to get you back to base...Maybe we can study you, we- we could find out if there's some kind of cure!" He said with an excited grin, hopping to his feet as you stared at him with wide eyes. The thought of sitting inside of a laboratory all day being poked and stabbed with needles wasn't what you wanted.

"No. No...No experiments!" You cried out as he stared at you, slowly nodding his head as he realised what that would put you through. Slowly sitting back down he stared at you, his hands carefully raising to your cheek as he sighed, rubbing his thumb along your now rough skin.

"I will help you," He whispered his eyes filled with pity as you stared back at him,

"Me, help you." You mumbled this time, putting your hand on top of his pointing out of the window at the groups of Zombies that were outside.

"I take you back...Safely." It was you that had to be protective over him now, he didn't have a choice but to rely on you to survive if you were going to get him back.

"How?" He chuckled weakly looking at the others outside of the window, V was there and you knew he would have seen you and Jungkook together and was coming to see you about it.

"Drive." You said simply as you got up and walked toward your pile of keys that you had on the plane. Holding up a pair and smiling. Jungkook scoffed a little as he shook his head at you,

"Baby, you couldn't even drive when you were human," The pet name made your stomach flip as you stared at him, smiling as you nodded taking the keys and walking toward him.

"Drive." You told him calmly as you began to walk to the exit of the plane. The plan was simple, get him out of the airport and into the parking lot, the cars were all full and working, it was going to be easy...Once you were away from the Zombies.

"They'll smell me again," He told you as you stared at him, moving your fingers down to an open wound on yourself and wiping your own blood on him.

"Play...Dead," You grumbled as you slowly began to make your way with Jungkook toward the parking lot. Zombies all watching you as you continued to grunt and walk, Jungkook doing his best to mimic the actions that you were doing. Still completely stunned that he was walking with you, walking talking proof that what they were killing were still human...Almost.

"Human." Someone groaned as you and Jungkook reached the car you had a key for.

"Snack," The voices were deeper and more human-like and you knew what it was that the voice belonged to. Bonies you all called them. Zombies but not like you and the rest of your friends, Bonies were just like their name suggested. Nothing but bones that still feated on human flesh. They were the people that had risen from the graves, the ones you believed started the infection in the first place.

"Hide." You grunted at Jungkook who frowned, looking around in the darkness for what it was speaking, but all he could see were two pairs of glowing eyes in the back of the lot.

"What is it?" He questioned as you shielded him between you and the car, staring at the eyes that were quickly making their way in your direction. The second they came into the light Jungkooks tumbled backwards, hitting the car and shuddering as he saw the bones staring back at him. Nothing on them except a set of razor-sharp teeth and glowing eyes.

"Get..In." You moaned giving him the keys as you stared at the two things in front of you. They would rip Jungkook to shreds if they got hold of him, battling between one another over who got to eat what and you didn't want that. You weren't going to let anything get your boyfriend...Not that that was what he was anymore.

"Protecting a human?" One of them laughed deeply as you stared at it, turning to look as Jungkook started up the car and stared at you. Wondering if he was supposed to drive away without you or wait and you launched yourself at one of the bonies, knocking it to the floor as you grunted. There was no way to kill or stun it, you had to hope for the best as you grabbed the second by the leg bone, tripping it down as you headed for the car.

"Drive. Drive!" You yelled, your voice coming out quicker this time and less of a grunt as Jungkook began to speed his way out of the parking lot.

As soon as you were in the clear he pulled over into an empty road and stared at you, your face was starting to look a little healthier and your cut was no longer leaking brown ooze.

"Y/n?" You turned to look at him and your eyes no longer looked sunken in and it was only now that you realised you were breathing...Not just breathing but breathing heavily. You hadn't been able to breathe in months and it felt as though your heart was racing rapidly against your rib cage.

"My...My heart." You whined feeling pain whenever it would beat, it was as if it hadn't beaten in so long it pained you for it to do so.

"Your-" He stopped when you put his hand on your chest, his eyes widening as he felt the same thing that you could. Your heart hits your chest as quickly as possible.

"Drive...We should get you back..." But Jungkook didn't move he just stared at you from across the seat, wondering why you weren't so bothered about this.

"Your heart is racing! You're breathing!" He cried out as you stared at him shaking your head,

"I'm...I'm not human...I ate-" You tried to explain but Jungkook shook his head at you, there had to be an explanation for all of this.

"Your heart is beating and that means you're human...I'm taking you back with me, we'll figure this out." He said while holding your hand, this time he wasn't met with cold skin on his this time it was warm. Your heart was beating and you were warming up, you could feel it and it was as though you could feel everything inside of you being brought back.

"They'll kill me."

"They'll have to kill me first." He whispered leaning down to you, your noses touching as your breath hitched in your throat. Feeling your heart once again as he pressed his lips to yours, bringing you closer to him as your whole body seemed to melt against him.

"Let's go..." You whispered breathlessly, pulling away from him as a smirk grew on his lips. Turning the engine back on as he began to head in the direction of the base.

"They'll kill me..." You whispered as you both stood just outside of the base, staring over at the high walls and highly secured gates. Jungkook had come up with a plan of telling them you had slowly begun to come back to life, that you were somehow no longer a zombie.

"They won't...I-I'll make sure of it." He promised you but it wasn't a full plan, it wasn't even half a plan...It was barely anything. Just expecting to walk into a base and tell everyone you were once a zombie who somehow, magically became human because you saw the love of your life in front of you. It was ludicrous. There were zombies all watching you closely as you and Jungkook stood in front of the base, none of them making an attempt to approach but they all just stared.

"Kookie this is stupid," You whispered shaking your head when a voice came out over the announcement system,

"Jungkook? You're alive?!" Someone screamed and you looked at him, smiling weakly as he began to pull you with him. With Jungkook beside you, you felt as though you could do everything but somehow even this felt near impossible.

"I am sir and I bought Y/n!" The second your name left his move the system shut off and a shot rang out.

"Y/n!" Jungkook screeched jumping in front of you to take the bullet that was coming right for you, he grunted hitting the floor as you screamed. Dropping down on your knees to look at him,

"Jungkook, Jungkook!" You yelled as he looked at you. You were fasting in speaking and you finally looked as though you were healthy once again, you panicked looking at his shoulder as blood began to leak through the bullet wound.

"We threw Y/n away with the rest of them, she is not human!" A female command officer cried out as she stared at you both through binoculars.

"She's human!" Jungkook screamed back in pain as zombies began to make their way over to you, your eyes darting at all of them as you tried to think of a way out of this. A way to get Jungkook inside of that base to get the help that he would need.

"I love you." You whispered to him as he stared at you, frowning as you kissed him deeply. At least this way you would get to say goodbye to one another this time.

"Y/n don't...Don't do anything stupid." He groaned turning pale as he took your hand in his, your eyes lingered on him as you shook your head. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you glanced behind you,

"They'll rip you apart...I-I can...I can distract them," You told him as you looked for a knife in his pockets, grabbing one.

"I can get you safe again...It's my turn to protect you." You whispered kissing him once again and getting up from the floor but you stopped in your tracks. The zombies were staring at you all, mouths open as you looked at each of them, no one moved an inch as they all stared at you and Jungkook.

"They're not attacking..." You whispered as Jungkook got up from the floor, the gates to the base opened with loud noises as the commanding officer began to come over to you. Guns aimed at you as Jungkook begged for them to be lowered.

"Her heart is beating inside of her chest, she is bleeding as if she's human...Can't you see that?!" Jungkook coughed up some blood onto the floor and you clutched him closer to you.

"Kill me if you want but take him...Help him!" You spat at the commander, walking Jungkook toward him when you were grabbed by two soldiers. Each holding you in their arms while another man took your pulse, your eyes on him the whole time.

"It's true...But we saw her before, she was one of them." A man spoke out, you knew him. He had been on your team that day when you were attacked, he must have been the one to throw you out of the base after the attack happened.

"Look at them all," Jungkook spoke as he leaned on someone for help, all of the Zombies that had been watching all standing up straight instead of their usual slouching position.

"Seokjin?" A female officer called out as she noticed someone she knew in the crowd, slowly making his way toward her.

"June?!" He cried out as he began to sprint toward her, the colour in his face beginning to return as they embraced one another.

"His heart is beating..." She cried out, holding him and checking him over and over again.

"How is it possible?" The commander questioned as he stared at you, your eyes on Jungkook as he was slowly taken inside of the base to be cleaned up.

"When I first saw Jungkook again...M-My heart started to beat...Just once and then as we spent more time together it got to normal...I was breathing again, I was...I was tired from running and walking..." You explained as the man slowly began to walk with you, taking you to Jungkook but his eyes never left you.

"You're telling me love makes everyone return to normal? This isn't a fairytale Y/n." He grumbled angrily as he stared at some of the other Zombies who all seemed to be returning to normal.

"No...But if they're experiencing human emotions again...Maybe that is what helps..." The commander stared at you, not believing for even a second it was possible for any of this to be true.

"We'll have to do tests...Blood work and lord knows what else before we think this is real." You nodded, willing to do anything if it meant other people would be able to return to normal. Your eyes going to look out of the base at all of the people beginning to return to loved ones or even just friends.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and every day you were doing tests. Once a week you had blood but every day you would have a routine check-up with how you were feeling if anything seemed to be returning but nothing was. For most of the population, everything seemed to be returning to normal, the only things that weren't were the bonies. All of them still roaming around the world killing what they could in sight but there was a way to stop them. Locking them back up in a box and burying them in the ground topped with cermet. The only thing that seemed to keep them at bay and never to be seen again.

Though it would take many years to ake the world back after everything it had gone through, everyone was determined. Things were slowly returning to how they were, officials, coming out of hiding and electing themselves back into control.

"You ready?" A voice questioned making you turn around and smile at V who you knew now as Taehyung. The second you knew it was clear for you to travel you had hunted high and low for your best friend, bringing him back to safety.

"As I'll ever be," You giggled taking his hand in yours as you both began to make your way down to the bottom of the army base. It was where a lot of people were holding up for a while until they found their homes or until their homes were ready for them.

Jungkook was waiting for you, dressed in a suit with a giant grin on his face. Watching in complete awe as Taehyung began to walk you down the makeshift aisle toward him, both of you ready to start the rest of your lives together with one another.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix @kookiekuu @lolalee24 @lenorelove @yubinism @hopeworldd-2 If you want to be added or removed please let me know

MASTERLIST

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagine #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines

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paterson-blue · 3 years

Text

Summary: Sackler's working on his impulse control. No, really--he is, he swears. It's just a lot harder when it comes to you.

Word Count: 8,432

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, angst with a happy ending, fluff, sexual tension, friends to lovers (but moves into established relationship), domestic shit, the regularly scheduled Sackler chaos, Sackler is soft, an anxious boy; a nervous boy, excessive gatorade drinking (it's his brand), classic Sackler banter, hair braiding, teasing, handjobs, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), slight nose action, unprotected PIV sex (no chance of pregnancy), cock warming, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint) — let me know if I need to add anything else!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

You’d entered his life slowly, inch by inch, sneaking into his consciousness until suddenly you were all he thought about. When he’d decided to wave at you across the aisle of the bodega all those months ago he’d had no idea of what the future would hold. All he knew was that he’d been seeing you there every day like clockwork; same time, same aisle.

He always grabbed a red Gatorade and you always grabbed some sort of sugary drink of your own. Occasionally the two of you seemed to move in sync, opening the fridge, reaching up, grabbing your item, and slamming the door all in one motion together. Adam thought it was kinda funny, two strangers' lives lining up in such a way, being part of each other’s daily routine. So one day he waves, a goofy grin on his face as he points to his signature bottle of red goodness.

You blink at him in surprise before almost shyly smiling back, your eyes bright, and oh—Adam’s stomach does a dangerous little flip-flop.

He waves at you for two weeks straight until it’s not enough anymore. He comes into the bodega one day determined to talk to you but with no concrete plan of how to do it. He’s a little early in his excitement, and he finds himself having to aimlessly browse the little store like a fuckin’ idiot before the familiar bell dings and he sees you come through the door. He half-trips over to the drink aisle, trying not to come across like he’s following you around, even though he definitely is.

You’re studying the various beverages in the fridge, mouth scrunched up as you consider them. He only allows himself a moment to admire you, not wanting you to catch him staring. He steps closer, boots thudding on the floor, making you look up at him. Now’s your chance, Sackler, a voice echoes in his head.

“What’s today’s flavor?” he hears himself say, and he feels relief wash over him when you give him that pretty smile.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You sigh, settling your hands on your hips. “Maybe just water.”

“What?! Bullshit! You never get water!” Oh, so he’s just gonna double down on being a creep, huh? Saying he knows exactly what you get every day? Adam wants to smack the palm of his hand against his forehead.

But then you’re letting out a laugh, shaking your head at him. “Well maybe sometimes I like to change things up. We can’t all stick to red gatorade every damn day.”

Your comeback makes Adam feel half-giddy, both from the easy banter and from the acknowledgement that you’ve been paying just as much attention to him as he has to you.

“Well, I’ll have you know that red flavored Gatorade has special health benefits that others just don’t.” He states, leaning against the cool glass of the fridge. You’ve gone back to browsing, but you keep shooting him amused little looks; his ego crows at your attention.

“Is that so?” you ask, humoring him as you indeed select a bottle of water from the bottom shelf.

He’s nodding when you straighten back up, and points accusingly at the bottle of water. “Can’t believe you’re going for the boring shit.”

“Well,” you shrug, holding the bottle to your chest, “I’m feeling pretty boring today. But I dunno, tomorrow might be different. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She doesn’t mean anything, Adam tries to tell himself. The two of you had been there together every day for the past two months. It’s not abnormal for you to assume he’ll show up again the next day. But still, your words, the between-the-lines invitation for him to see you again, makes his heart leap.

“I guess I will,” he responds firmly before grabbing his regular gatorade from the shelf. This time the two of you walk up to the register together, and before Adam can stop himself he’s digging into his jeans pocket, tugging out a couple crumpled bills. “Hey kid, lemme pay for that.”

You hesitate, but nod, chirping out a “thank you” in that sweet voice of yours. Adam slaps down the money, throwing in a pack of sunflower seeds along with the drinks. If it’s just to make the transaction last two seconds longer—to make him standing there with you two seconds longer—then he’ll keep it to himself. Soon, you’ve got your water and you're waving a goodbye as you step out of the store and onto the busy sidewalk.

Adam follows at a distance; watches you walk away, your purse slung over your shoulder, water already open and pressed to your lips. He watches until you disappear into the crowd, and then he’s sighing, looking down at his feet. It’s not until he’s trudging back home that he realizes he never even got your fuckin’ name.

_______________________________________

It’s another day before he gets your name. A week before the two of you leave together, leaning against the wall outside and sipping your respective drinks; two before he’s asking for your number. For some reason, you actually give it to him.

He’s nervous to text you first, which is unlike him. Sure, in the past he would get a little anxious, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself, but he still went through with it. But it takes him an entire day to shoot you a message, asking if you wanted to go sit in the nearby park after the bodega stop. Your answer is an immediate yes, and suddenly Adam is eying the hole in the collar of his green t-shirt, wondering if he should change.

It’s not a date. The bodega isn’t a date, the park isn’t a date—the walks and lunches, coffee shops and movie nights in the weeks following aren’t dates either. So what if he cleaned the absolute shit out of his apartment before you came over for dinner? So what if he wore his nice jeans and black dress shirt, sleeves all rolled up to show off his forearms? So fuckin’ what?

It’s not a date.

It’s not a date until, a month into all your not-date’s, you’re standing at the sink with him as the two of you tag-team-clean the dishes. He’s washing, you’re drying, and there’s an easy rhythm flowing until a soapy plate slips from your grasp as he hands it to you. The dish smacks into the water-filled sink, creating a splash that soaks the both of you. You inhale a loud gasp, laughter already in your voice.

He seems to get the brunt of it, the front of his green plaid shirt darkening as warm, sudsy water bathes the fabric. His shoulders hunch up in surprise, and you’re giggling, covering your mouth with your hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, that was an accident I swear.”

“Oh I call bullshit,” he growls, a grin spreading over his face. He yanks his arms up high, wriggling his fingers over your head so that water and suds drip onto you. “Pay back!” He crows, stalking towards you. You can easily duck under his arm to sideswipe him, to escape his grasp, but you don’t.

Instead, you swat at him with the dish towel in your hands, laughing as you shuffle backwards. “You better fuckin’ not, Sackler! I’ll scream!” You make idle threats at him but he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, forward, forward, hands dripping water all over your hair and shoulders as you shriek.

“I’mmmmm gonna getcha!” he sing-songs, jumping towards you, the wood floor creaking under his big feet. He’s got you cornered now, your back against the wall—ha! His arms swoop down in an attempt to engulf you, aiming to press his wet hands and shirtfront against you, but your hands fly out to grasp his wrists to halt him.

“I just bought this shirt!”

“It’s soapy water, it’s just gonna get more clean!”

“Adam!” You laugh, your voice betraying a tone of fond exasperation. And oh, you’re all smiley and breathless, eyes shining up at him—you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, lighting up his kitchen and his heart and his whole fuckin’ life with the brightest, warmest sunshine he’s ever felt. He stares at you, admiring you freely, not able to help it. You don’t seem to mind; you’re looking straight back at him, thumbs rubbing little circles on his wrists where water was trickling down to his forearms.

Adam’s never really been one for impulse control. That shit’s just never appealed to him. What was the point? If you’re gonna do something, just fuckin’ do it—get it out there in the open and see what happens. Yeah, sometimes things don’t go well, or—okay, they go really fuckin’ bad—but sometimes things turn out for the better! And the sweet feeling of elation whenever his bet, whenever trusting his gut, pays off? It was worth the risk.

So he lunges down, capturing your face in his wet palms as he presses his lips to yours. And shit, by some strange miraculous twist of fate you’re actually kissing him back. It makes him press forward, shoulders scrunched up and back curved towards you, angling himself for you to take. He thinks he could die happy, finally having your mouth against his, finally holding you the way he’s needed since the first fuckin’ day he saw you.

You sigh into his mouth and he gobbles it up greedily, sucking at your bottom lip, full on moaning when your tongue swipes against his cupid’s bow. When you insist on pulling away to get some air he stays close to share your breath, brushing his nose against yours. You hum out a pleased little noise and he wants to melt into the floor. He thinks about doing it—about sinking to his knees and pressing his face into your stomach, holding you tight, tight, tight.

He thinks he might have, if you hadn’t reached up to card your fingers through his hair, fingertips massaging deliciously at his scalp. He presses a needy little kiss to the corner of your mouth; your lips quirk upwards at his touch. When you break the silence it’s in a hushed tone, your hands sliding over his biceps. “That was nice.”

Adam grins, rubbing the tip of his nose over your cheekbone just because he can. “I can do better,” he promises cheekily, “Just gotta let me show you.”

You laugh, saying oh really? in a way that has him preening.

“Hell yeah. I’m a very well rounded individual.” He finally straightens back up, watching you with hopeful eyes, painfully shoving back the urge to ask you if you wanted to kiss him again.

“… I’ve got work tomorrow,” you finally say, and Adam nods, because he knows you do. You took your shit seriously. But oh, you’re reaching for his hand, and the relief he feels when you touch him is immediate. “But I'm free tomorrow night,” you tell him, your own eyes bright, waiting for him to take your offering—and there’s no way in hell he’s going to pass it up.

“Well good, because we’re having dinner. That back alley Thai place. And then I’ll take you out to that gross ice cream shop down the street you like so fuckin’ much.”

You nod, bouncing on your toes a little, and it’s so goddamn cute that Adam almost dips down to kiss you again. The most he lets himself do is rub the back of your hand with his thumb, watching you intently. “And I’m fuckin’ paying, don’t even think about bringing any money.”

You offer him a grin. “Alright. It’s a date.”

Adam nods, so fast he thinks he probably looks unhinged, but hey—that’s nothing new. “You bet your ass it’s a date, kid.”

An actual date. With you. It only took three months.

_______________________________________

So yeah. Impulse control.

Never been Adam’s thing.

It’s not that he doesn’t think about his actions. Okay, well, sure, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just goes with his gut and throws caution to the wind, like when he’d kissed you. He’d just known it was what he should do, and so he did it. He likes to think most of his impulsive decisions are perfectly logical and sound, even the ones that don’t work out. It’s not his fault if other people don’t always agree with what he does. This is how he’s lived his life all these years, and it’s worked out more often than not. Why change something that isn’t broken, or whatever the saying is.

Except. He meets you. And fuck, suddenly he’s overthinking every little urge, every little snap judgement—tight-rope walking the thread of fate. He’s on edge for the best of reasons; you’re the most wonderful thing he thinks has ever fuckin’ happened to him and there’s no goddamn way he’s going to jeopardize what the two of you have. He has to do this right, has to do things properly. He’s going to date the absolute shit outta you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He likes it, really—hopping each little stepping stone that leads to more of you. Taking things slower than he has in ages, maybe ever. He knows, in the back of his mind, that if he flew into you at his usual gale force chaos, you’d accept him all the same. Because you’re good. You’re soft and sweet, and have turned his life into something golden and warm.

But you deserve more than his chaos. You were so gentle and vulnerable with him, and Adam—he wants to be the same way with you. For you. So he grapples with his impulses, shoving them down when they rear their ugly heads. He’s not gonna fuck this up, no matter how much his brain tries. And oh, does it try.

_______________________________________

For example, he almost tells you he loves you not two weeks into the course of dating you.

It’s not his fault, honest—or that’s what he tells himself. His feelings just like to…. overwhelm him. Endlessly.

See, he’d had a show—a play; one he’d been working on since before he’d waved at you in the bodega those months ago. You knew about it, sure. He’d talked about it (ranted about it) plenty of times. You always listened even if you had no clue what he was going on about, always gave him whatever he needed—whether that was being alone, or extra rehearsal time, or allowing him to flop into your couch and scream into the pillows.

Still, he hadn’t invited you to the opening night. Or any nights, actually. He was too nervous, as much as he hated to admit it—mostly about fucking things up if you were there. Honestly, the thought of you sitting, watching him, made his insides all… wriggly. And even if it was the good kind of wriggly, he’d be too hyper-aware of it, too distracted by it.

He feels guilty even if you don’t seem upset. You have brunch with him—yeah, he was doing fuckin’ brunch now. That shit was good—and then give him a goodbye kiss, telling him to “break a leg.” It makes him smile, and he insists on a couple more kisses, just for luck. And then he’s off to the final rehearsal before opening.

It goes off without a hitch, and Adam’s beyond elated—and relieved, and proud. As he scrubs off his sweat and makeup backstage, he can’t help but wish he had someone there to share his pride with. But he doesn’t have time to get into his head; there’s stupid fuckin’ rich people to schmooze outside, and the director had told him under no uncertain terms would he be in attendance.

Adam yanks on his tie as he makes his way through the theater’s halls towards the ballroom, not looking forward to the boring conversation and unnecessarily tiny food he had ahead of him. He tries to sneak his way through the crowded lobby area but it’s kind of difficult to be discreet with his sheer size—something that shouldn’t surprise him by now and yet does every single time. He forces out gentle smiles and humble “thank you’s” at the praise his performance receives, attempting to make his long legs work double time.

But then he spots something in his periphery. He’s not even sure what it is at first, really--just that it means something to him. It’s important. A flash of fabric as someone exits the large revolving doors, and there it is, that nagging in his head, that impulse. He veers off course without even thinking about it; fuck the schmoozing. Following that flutter of fabric, he shoves his way through the door and people, stumbling out onto the sidewalk. His dark eyes scan the busy street before landing on what his subconscious had been so attracted to.

You.

It stuns him at first, shocks him to silence--and not much can do that, if he’s being honest. You were here. Had you been here the whole time? Did you watch the whole thing? Were you just gonna leave? Adam thinks all these things at once, his mind a cacophony of noise, and suddenly he’s bellowing your name over the bustle of the crowd. He watches you jump, acknowledges the head turns he’s getting--he doesn’t give a fuck. You’re turning to look at him and he’s all but bounding over, zeroed in on you. You looked so goddamn gorgeous, the lights of the city casting multicolored glows over your skin.

“You’re here.” He says when he gets close enough, gaze bouncing all over you, not able to keep to one spot.

You give him a sheepish look, extending him just half a smile. “I… Yeah, I’m sorry. I wanted to come. I know you didn’t ask me to, but this show is so important to you and I--” You let out a small laugh, “--I wanted to support you, even if it was a secret?”

Adam’s chest fills with warmth, and his voice is noticeably quieter when he speaks again. “And you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye? What the fuck, kid?”

You shrug, but in a bashful way, not in a way where you’re blowing off his question. “Well, it wasn’t about me, you know? I wanted to be here for you, but until you were ready for me to be here, be here… I wasn’t wanting to, I don’t know--force your hand, or anything.”

And shit, if that doesn’t give Adam pause. He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone do something like this for him--support him without wanting something in return, without wanting recognition for their ‘good deed.’ You were giving him yourself even when he wasn’t around to acknowledge it or thank you for it. The words almost slip out of his mouth right then and there. I love you. It would be so simple.

They’re on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out in the open area between the two of you at a moment’s notice; he does the only thing he can think of to stop it from happening. He lunges forward, half yanking you to him as he slams his mouth down onto yours. It's… not as gentle as he intends, but he’s desperate, because the words are already leaving his lips in a muffled jumble. He’s kissing you on the crowded sidewalk like he’s fuckin’ starving for it, like he can’t breathe without it. Maybe he can’t. He sure isn’t stopping to find out.

“Adam--” you murmur into his mouth, and he grunts at you in response, which earns him a laugh. Your hands slip over his dress shirt, underneath his suit jacket, and he leans into your touch. You pull away from his lips, but press lingering kisses to his jaw, and Adam thinks maybe it’s an okay compromise. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close; says the only (other) thing he can think of--that he knows he has to get off his chest.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ date anyone else. Don’t wanna kiss anyone else. Just you.” He makes sure to look at you when he says it, not caring how intense he comes across. If he can’t say that he loves you outright, he’ll do it in every other little way he can. “I wanna do boyfriend shit for you. Like—like make you canned soup when you’re sick and—and text you whenever I see a fuckin’ tree that reminds me of you.”

You smile up at him in that way that makes him feel ridiculously small and a million feet tall all at once. “Boyfriend shit, huh? Does that mean I need to start thinking of girlfriend shit to do?”

Adam nods briskly, but then pauses, his hands sliding up and down your back. “Only if you want to.” He tries to school his tone into something soft and neutral, trying to protect himself in case you say no.

But then you’re relaxing into his chest, resting your head over his thrumming heart. “I want to.”

He’s glad you can’t see his grin, and he holds you tighter to him, hoping you wont notice the way he’s literally fuckin’ vibrating with happiness. He wants to shout, wants to yell out at everyone passing by on the street. Hear that, everyone?! She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend now! Mine!! Ha!

“Do you wanna come back inside with me?” He asks instead, trailing his fingertips up and down your arm. “I have to go suck up to a bunch’a idiots so they’ll give the director some money. They might be willing to give more if I bring along some hot eye candy.”

You snort, pulling away from him; his gaze flits over your face, taking in your pleased smile and sparkling eyes. You were happy. He made you happy. It’s all he ever wants, really. You agree to coming with him, and he gives you his arm to hold onto as he escorts you back into the building, head held high with pride.

_______________________________________

Of course, it just makes things harder.

He’s swallowing down “I love you’s” left and fuckin’ right: when you pick him up from an audition and hand him a red gatorade. When you remember his lunch order from the café down the street. When you laugh at something dumb he’s said—a joke he knows isn’t that funny.

When, alternatively, you say Sackler in that exasperated-yet-fond tone whenever he’s said something annoying. When the two of you sit quietly in the living room together, each doing work, comfortable in the silence. When you pass behind him while he’s cooking and brush a gentle hand against his back, casual as can be.

He swallows the words down the first time he stays over at your place. It’d been an accident; he’d fallen asleep on the couch after getting back from an out-of-state visit to see his niece. He’d woken up in the morning to the smell of coffee, finding himself tucked under blankets. You’d come over when you saw that he was awake; brushed his hair out of his bleary eyes, said- “Good morning, sleepy head.”

He starts staying over a lot more after that, in your bed instead of the couch. Each time he wakes up next to you, wrapped around you, one of you half on top of the other—his chest fuckin’ aches. And still, his brain tells him to keep his thoughts to himself, to hold his feelings in his chest until the right moment. What’s the right moment? He asks himself. He never receives an answer.

It’s a torture he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know what to fuckin’ do with himself. The first time you climb into his lap, tugging his jeans open, wrapping your perfect hands around his cock--all he can do is stare up at you, plush mouth hanging open, barely daring to breathe much less let the usual filth fall from his lips.

Because holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, so perfect for him, and he’s pretty sure if he tries to say a single thing he’s going to let it slip. So he just yanks you close, biting at your lips, letting you swallow down his grunts and groans. He touches you everywhere--tries to let his hands do the talking for him.

He thinks he should probably tone down just how fervently he’s staring at you as he presses his thick fingers deep inside your pussy, but he has to see, has to know he’s making you feel good. “Tell me.” He manages to say, voice hoarse as he glances down to see your sticky wetness on his fingers before he pushes them back in, thumbing at your clit as he does so. “Tell me how it feels.”

You’re quiet but from your whimpers and whines, and Adam almost adds on a desperate please before you’re suddenly speaking, your words more of a babble as he works you. “F-Feels good, Adam, baby, feels so full. Can--can you--a little faster?”

A little faster? He can do that. He speeds up the motion on your clit, curling his fingers against that special spongy area inside as he pounds them in and out of you, brown eyes nearing black as he stares you down. “Like this?” he growls out, and instead of answering with words you let out a squeal, your hips jerking against him as your eyes roll back in your head.

Adam grins, breathless and feral. “Yeah. Like that, huh? Pretty girl.” The feeling of you cumming on three of his big fingers is enough to drag a long moan out of his chest; you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. “That’s it, doll, ride my fingers—good girl, so fuckin’ needy for me.”

You’re all clingy afterwards, clutching at him; he clutches right back, pressing his face into your shoulder, listening to you breathe. I love you, he thinks. I fuckin’ love you.

When you finally let him press his face between your legs one night, the words echo endlessly in his head. He’s lost in you, in the pressure of your thighs against his ears, your hands clutching at his shaggy hair, the way you clench so sweetly against his tongue. He rubs his face back and forth, smearing your slick all over himself greedily, sliding his nose up and down your clit. You let out an uninhibited, shuddering noise and he smirks, eagerly sucking at your folds.

He lets his eyes flick up to look at you, taking in the softness of your stomach, your heaving tits, the arch of your neck as you toss your head back against the pillows. He can’t see your face like this but he doesn’t fuckin’ care, not when he has the vision of you before him, your soft skin under his palms, the tangy sweetness of you in his mouth.

You cry out his name when you orgasm, your hips bucking against his face and Adam just goes along for the ride, using his hands to ease your frenetic movements. He spells it out with his tongue against your clit as you slowly come back down, blood rushing in his ears.

I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U.

It’s a warm, early fall night when he fucks you for the first time, slow and deep, the bedroom windows cracked and letting in the nightly noise of the city. He doesn’t hear any of it--hears nothing but you and the sounds your bodies make together. There’s no rushing, no dirty words falling from his lips--there’ll be more than enough time for that later. Right now was about the slick slide of his cock in you, his eyes trained on yours, all wide like he’s surprised by this--shocked that any of its happening. In a way, he is.

Adam reaches out to settle a giant palm on your cheek, holding you, rubbing his nose against yours as he rolls his hips, muscles flexing under his skin as his back arches. He wants closer to you--closer, closer, and closer still--so he shuffles up the bed. It's a little awkward, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he can get deeper. You’ve got your knees hugging his hips, hands grabbing at his shoulder blades, making the prettiest noises in his ear. Adam, you say, and somehow his name has a thousand meanings in this moment. Adam, Adam, Adam.

Hearing it makes his toes curl up, makes him choke out a moan into your neck. “Fuck, I’m--I--” He fumbles for your face, breathing hot and heavy as he mouths over your skin to find your lips, kissing you sloppy to shut himself up. You’re clenching tight around his cock, a hand snuck down to rub quick little circles on your clit as you get close.

He doesn’t watch you as you cum this time, not when you’re pulling his own orgasm out of him, milking him for all he’s worth. He’s drenched in sweat, trembling as he sucks in shaky breaths. No thoughts fill his mind, head completely fuckin’ empty but for the pleasure humming through his veins.

You laugh afterwards, the two of you curled up together, Adam having collapsed to the side in an attempt not to crush you. He gives you a crooked grin of his own, sliding one big palm over your tummy, rubbing it as he slings a massive thigh over your legs. “Good?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he starts to finger your belly button. You bat his hands away, calling him a fucking weirdo even as you lean in to capture his lips with yours. He nips at your bottom lip happily, smoothing his hand over your side, grabbing whatever part of you he can.

“Yeah,” he concedes, “-but I’m the fuckin’ weirdo you have custody of.” You smirk, and then you’re tugging on his shoulders, trying to haul him closer to you. You both need to shower--to clean up, probably drink some water, more than likely change the sheets. But maybe, he thinks to himself as he curls up half on top of you, nuzzling into your cheek--maybe it can wait for just a little longer.

____________________________________

“Fuckin’—ow!”

“Adam, stop moving around—“

“Well stop pulling my fuckin’ hair!”

You sigh at him, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a hard look in the mirror. Adam pouts, slumping on the stool he was sitting on; he knew he was being whiny but his scalp was fuckin’ sensitive!

“You’re the one who asked me to braid your hair, remember?” You point out, grabbing another elastic from the countertop. “You practically begged me.”

“I didn’t beg.” He huffs, making a face at you. You don’t move, and he chances a look at his watch—fuck, he was gonna be late if this took too much longer. “… Fine, I’m sorry, I’ll sit still. Promise.” He chews on his bottom lip, giving you his best puppy dog eyes; he’s heard they were pretty effective. He’s pleased when you finally step forward, reaching up to comb through his hair again, pulling it out of his face and plaiting it across the top of his head.

He’s landed an actual honest-to-fuck movie role. A little indie film, sure, but it was still another stepping stone in his career. He was beyond excited, was putting his all into it—and, apparently, since his character was a boxer, that meant doing early morning training followed by choreography.

It was fine, really. He was enjoying it, and he liked learning a new sport, liked feeling the burn in different muscles of his body. It wasn’t that he was out of shape, it was just fuckin’ intense. Some days absolutely kicked his ass but he was always eager to come back for more. His trainer, Beth, said she liked that about him. It gave Adam a sense of pride about what he was doing.

It’s just that his damn hair kept getting in the way. It would get all sweaty, sticking all over his skin, flying into his eyes at the most inopportune moments. He’d tried to put it up into a ponytail but that hadn’t lasted long at all. Finally last night, after days of his complaining, you’d told him he just needed to braid it. I don’t know how to do that shit, he’d said, and you’d snorted, and here the two of you were.

“M’gonna be late.” He warns, leg bouncing up and down, jittery. He’d been on time—early, even—to every single session so far, and he didn’t want to break that streak.

“You won’t be late,” you murmur, twisting the tiny elastic around the end of the braid, making him wince just a little—he shuts his eyes against the sting. They have to be tight or they won’t hold, you’d said. Your hands sweep his remaining loose hair behind his ears, combing your fingers through it as you give your work a once over.

“I think they’re okay. They shouldn’t fall apart, at least. No more hair getting in your eyes.” You scratch your nails lightly at the back of his neck, a silent apology for the strain on his scalp, before moving to rub the shells of his ears between your thumbs and forefingers. Adam makes a small, pleased noise at the sensations, leaning back into your chest. He wants to stay here like this, with you, but he knows he can’t.

“How do I look?” He questions, eyes still closed. Your hands slide down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders, squeezing gently. He feels when you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“Cute.” You tell him, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Very pretty.”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, wrinkling up his nose. “Cute?” You nod, and he shakes his head. “I can’t look fuckin’ cute while I’m boxing!” You just shrug, as if to say ‘well, what am I supposed to do about it?’, and then start putting up your supplies. Adam wants to keep on teasing you, but instead he hauls himself to standing, heading into the living room to grab his boots.

You trail in after him as he’s shoving them on his feet and perch on the edge of the couch to watch him. He speaks as he ties the laces, hyper-aware of the time even though the subway was only a couple minute walk from your apartment. “I shouldn’t be home late. Probably be back before you, even.”

Home. It only half registers that he says it, that he refers to your place as his. He doesn’t have time to worry about it now; besides, you only nod at him, like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. He hops up, heavy feet stomping across the floor as goes to grab his trusty backpack. When he passes you on the way to the front door he drops a gentle kiss to your mouth.

“Thanks for my hair.” He says as he slips his arms through the straps of the bag and proceeds to pat his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed.

“Wait!” You’re crying out suddenly, making him freeze in place, looking at you with wide eyes. He watches you rush over to the fridge, digging in it for a moment or two; he gives his watch another nervous glance.

“Kid, what the hell…?” Adam scratches at the back of his neck, bouncing on his toes, ready to get out the door. When you shut the fridge, you’ve got two tupperware containers and a red gatorade in your hands; you hurry over to him, a small smile on your face.

“Here.” You tug him around with surprising strength, maneuvering him until you can unzip his backpack and put the plastic boxes and drink into the large pocket. “I made you lunch and some snacks. Don’t worry, it’s all protein. I know you always pack water but I wanted you to have more than that.”

Adam whips back around the second he’s allowed, his chest feeling warm and fluttery. He steals another kiss, one large hand on your jaw, nudging his nose against your cheek. Knowing he has to keep it short he pulls away, brushing his thumb over your chin as he does so. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t really know how to express what your actions mean to him. When had you even packed that? Last night, while he was asleep?

You give him a gentle smile, nuzzling your face into his palm. “You better get going. You’ll be late.”

Adam exhales. You always gave him an escape route, and he always fuckin’ took it. “Right, yeah. Okay.” He steps back, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. “Have a good day.” He yanks open the front door; when you speak again, your words are rushed, clearly not wanting to keep him.

“You too! Oh, can you pick up some bread on your way home?

“What? Oh, bread—yeah, sure—“ He’s stepping through the door, mind already focused on the day ahead. His hand finds the doorknob by muscle memory— “Sounds good, I can do that, love you!”—and the door slams shut behind him. He takes the stairs two at a time, his long strides getting him to the subway station sooner than he thought.

It’s not until he’s two stops down, staring blankly out the window as he stands in the crowded subway car, that he realizes what he’s done. Dread settles in his gut, heavy like lead, and his stomach twists. Fuck. Fuck! How could he have done something so stupid?

He wipes his palms on his gym shorts, feeling like they’re all clammy. He’d said ‘I love you’, tossed it to you like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing! Fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he’d ruined everything—pressured you somehow? Jesus Christ, well, guess it was time for him to leave the country. Or at least, move across town. New York was big enough to hide in, right?

He makes his way to the gym in a daze, his chest feeling all tight with anxiety. Getting into his routine is a struggle, and it frustrates him even more. Beth finally tells him to just have at one of the punching bags for a little bit, which does help loosen him up. Adam thinks it’s a tad ironic that imagining punching himself makes him feel better.

It’s not until he’s lumbering to the bodega to grab the bread you asked for, body aching and sticky with sweat, that he remembers you aren’t supposed to be home yet. He could sneak in undetected, plan an escape, or at least formulate some sort of explanation for his morning mistake. Though, he’s pretty sure saying “it was an accident, like when you were a kid and called your teacher ‘mom’” to his girlfriend wouldn’t bode well.

He knows he’s probably overreacting, but he’s never fuckin’ felt like this about someone before! He thought he’d known what love was; he thought he’d been in love in his past relationships. But he’s always said the words too fast, threw himself head first into the deep end. And yeah, he had loved them, in a way—cared about them, wanted them to care for him, too. But this? The all-encompassing affection and support you gave him? Your acceptance of him? He’s never had this before.

He’s never had someone want him fully as he is. And he wanted you the same way, loved every fuckin’ inch of you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of you; wants you by his side, forever. He feels so much that it scares him. And the thought of you not feeling the same, of you not wanting what he did—of his confession of love being something one-sided.

Adam was fucking terrified.

But he can’t run away. He knows he can’t. He always did, and always came back when it was far too late—when people were done with him. He won’t do that with you.

So he takes the steps up to your apartment one by one, trudging slowly, the loaf of bread held to his chest as if it would protect him somehow. He fumbles with the key in the lock, finally pushing through the door and kicking it closed behind him. Looking up, he freezes, heart leaping into his throat. There you were, sat on the couch.

“… I thought you’d be at work,” he says after a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He forces his body into movement, numbly going to put the bread on the countertop before setting down his backpack and removing the empty containers from his lunch. He can feel your eyes on him even if he isn’t looking at you; it makes him hunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“I had a meeting get canceled,” you inform him, voice holding on to a certain edge even while your tone is light. There’s silence, Adam trying to pretend like he’s busy in the kitchen even though it’s pretty obvious he isn’t. “Sackler.” There’s that stern-yet-fond tone he loves hearing so much, and it’s impossible for him to ignore you. He chances turning around, giving you what he hopes is a blank look.

“Will you please come here?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him at this point, and his brain is telling him that you’re definitely up to something. But then, you’re standing up, and he registers you’re wearing his favorite tiny tank top—and nothing else—and he finds his feet tripping over to you before he can help it.

“Fuck, kid, look at you.” He breathes, hands reaching out greedily to grab at your tits, the softness of your hips, your bare ass. You laugh, pushing him down onto the couch, pressing your hand between his legs as you lean in to kiss him. He groans, bucking his hips up, already impatient. Shit, it would be so easy to just slip down the waistband of his shorts, yank you down onto his cock—

“Thank you for getting the bread,” you murmur against his lips, leaning over him, one knee on the couch. Adam lets out a strangled sort of laugh.

“This is because I got bread?” he asks, incredulous. You nod, and he still doesn’t believe you, but fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re pulling his hand between your thighs and his fingers are delving on instinct. You’re wet. Wetter than you normally are starting out like this. He swallows hard as he finds your entrance, as three of his thick fingers slip in easily.

“Fuuuuuhhck,” he groans, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze, “-you dirty fuckin’ girl. Did you get yourself all ready for me? Too eager for my big cock to wait?” He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as you whine, your hands tugging insistently at his shorts. He’s quick to help you pull them down along with his briefs, the both of you scrambling to be connected.

The second you slide down onto his cock he’s throwing his head back, thighs straining as he tries not to thrust into you with abandon. “Always so fuckin’ good,” he bites out, jaw clenched and voice all gravelly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he prepares to guide you at a punishing pace.

But then one of your hands is finding his face, angling him to look at you while your other hand balls itself in his shirt—and fuck, he hadn’t even had time to get his shirt off yet.

“Adam,” you say, all breathless, clenching around his cock in a way that has him grunting in response, almost fuckin’ shaking with need. You say his name again as you tug on his shirt, pulling the fabric up his chest. He reluctantly lets go of your hips in order to help get the offending garment off his torso, but then he’s right back to you, hands squeezing your ass.

“C’mon, baby, need you to move. Need to feel this tight fuckin’ pussy riding me.” His voice is little more than a growl, and he pulls you in to crash his lips to yours before you can respond. He’s overwhelmed, needy, previous anxiety forgotten—he forgot most things when you were so tight and warm and wet around him.

He plants his boot covered feet on the ground and thrusts upwards, a broken moan leaving his chest as you gasp into his mouth. You plant your hands on his shoulders and he thinks finally, you’re going to give him what he so badly needs. But then you’re pulling away from him, settling into his lap like you had all the time in the world, a little smirk on your face.

“We need to talk, Adam.”

He stares at you, gobsmacked; his cock does a little twitch inside of you, like it’s as confused as he is. “Talk? Now?” You nod, resolute, and Adam let’s out a long, hot breath through his nose. “What,” he bites out, palms kneading your ass; he thinks maybe his eye twitches, “—do we need to talk about?”

“Did you mean it this morning?” Your voice is all quiet as you run your fingertips over his french braids, then down to curl his loose hair behind his ears. “When you said you loved me?”

Adam’s mind—so singularly focused on fucking you—grinds to a complete halt. He gapes at you, unable to come up with any sort of excuse, any sort of witty counter to your question. It’s then that he realizes what you’ve done, you little fuckin’ minx—you’ve weaponized sex against him!

You fuckin’ knew he wouldn’t be able to think like this. Maybe he should be mad, but he knows--he knows this is exactly what he needs. So he closes his mouth, swallowing hard and sliding his hands from your ass to the small of your back, holding you close.

“Yes.” It’s shaky, falling from his lips. He tries to make his voice more firm. “I love you.” And then, just to double down on it: “I’m so in love with you it scares the shit outta me. I love fuckin’—everything about you. I never wanna love anyone else ever again, not if it's not you.”

His heart is beating wild in his chest, and the pervy little part of his brain wonders if you can feel it through his dick. You lean in and kiss him all slow, squeezing your perfect fuckin’ pussy around him, and his hands move further up your back to pull you into him. He feels unsteady, like he’s jumped off a precipice into the unknown. He’s dizzy with the relief of his confession, with the worry of your reaction even as you kiss him, with the feeling of such a tight, slick, heat around his cock.

“I love you, too.”

He almost misses it with the way you murmur it into the corner of his mouth and with his head spinning from overstimulation. He blinks at you, giving you those big brown eyes and his jaw works as his mind catches up to speed. You smile, dropping more kisses over his strong features, then laugh when he finally yanks his head back to stare at you, his breath catching in his chest.

“You love me.” It’s not a question, but more of a confirmation; him reassuring himself that what he’d heard was real. You nod, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders, down his biceps. His eyes search yours as his hips shift underneath you, making you sigh happily. Something in him snaps.

He re-positions his feet on the floor, one of his hands gripping your hip and the other wrapped around the back of your neck. Your eyes widen, and you have a split second to balance yourself against his chest before he’s snapping his hips up, fucking into you at a frantic pace. The gasp you make is music to his fuckin’ ears.

“Say it again.” He growls at you, gaze drifting over your body, watching the way your tits bounce with his thrusts. “Say it.”

“I love you.”

Your words make him moan, and he doesn’t care how ridiculous he sounds. “Again,” he demands, voice ragged, and you obey—you say it over and over again until his mind is filled with it, the words a soothing balm for all his insecurities. You cry out, trembling in his lap, his cock deep inside you, and Adam is overcome.

He holds you there, the hand on your neck moving between your legs to rub quick circles on your clit. “I fuckin’ love you too, goddamn, this tight little pussy. You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my big fuckin’ cock?” He’s panting, staring you down, not letting you look away. “Fuckin’—say it when you cum. Please—please.”

You nod quickly, mouth hanging open, squirming so deliciously on his cock as your cunt gets tighter and tighter around him. He isn’t sure he’s even breathing, fingers moving desperately as you sob out his name, hips jerking in his lap. Your hands clutch at him, fingers raking at his chest as you chant I love you, I love you, the words all broken by your cries and whines. It’s fuckin’ beautiful.

“Fuuuuhhhhck.” Adam groans between gritted teeth, eyes rolling back in his head as your pussy squeezes his cock like it’s trying to milk him, like it’s begging for all his fuckin’ cum. He lets out loud, feral, shuddering breaths, trying to hold back—he isn’t done with you yet. “Oh, you feel so fuckin’ good, jeeeezus.” His words sound all strangled, and he has just the smallest bit of sense to wrap his arms around you when you slump into his chest.

Your breaths are short little pants against his neck, and he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of them—of you in general, the weight of you on top of him, your sticky skin against his, your body heat. “I love you.” He croaks out, saying it again just because he can. You hum in response, nuzzling your face closer; it makes him smile.

He trails the pads of his fingers down your spine and then back up, feeling the texture of your skin. You were his. His to touch, to kiss, to hold, to love.

He was yours.

It’s a heady, hopeful thought that tastes like the future.

______________________________________________________________

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#adam sackler x female reader #adam sackler x afab!reader #adam sackler x fem!reader #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler #adam sackler fic #adam sacklet smut #adcu fic #adcu fic exchange #tori writes #feedback always welcome & appreciated!

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duvetsandpillows · 3 years

Text

Sebastian Vettel Fluffy A-Z

Gif Credit: @chasingpegasus

A = Attractive: what do they find attractive about the other?

Your kindness. You are always looking for the best in everyone and you always put others before yourself. He calls you his little angel because he thinks you’re too good to be of this earth.

B = Baby: do they want a family? why/why not?

Seb knew he wanted to have kids with you after he saw you with one for the first time. Your friend had a baby and you’d offered to babysit for a night so she could go out. Seb got back from work to see you dancing around the living room with the baby girl in your arms, the two of you listening to Queen.

“Liebling what have we said about stealing babies?” You turned around and rolled your eyes.

“I know, I’ll give her back tomorrow.” He chuckled and gave you a kiss before cooing to the baby.

Once you’d put her down for the night you turned around from her cot to see Seb standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids.” You shrugged and gently ushered him out the room, pulling the door to.

“I dunno, used to look after my cousins when I was growing up.” He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Do you ever think about having your own one day?” he asked wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I think I’d like having a pair of feet pattering around the house.”

A year later you found out you were expecting two sets of feet to cause mayhem and Sebastian couldn’t have been happier when he found out.

C = Cuddle: how do they cuddle?

Sebastian loves to wrap his arms around your shoulders from behind. He loves being able to hold you close and press kisses to the top of your head. In bed he loves to be big spoon, having you curled into his chest, your leg hooked between his. He will kiss the side of your head and whisper sweet nothings in German to you as you fall asleep.

D = Dates: what are dates with them like?

The two of you don’t always get time for dates as he travels so much so you always cook dinner for when he gets back from a race. It’s guaranteed time for the two of you to have some alone time together. You don’t need extravagant dates, being together is enough.

E = Everything: "you are my ____" (e.g my life, my world...)

You are my forever and always.

F = Feelings: when did they know they were falling in love?

He knew he had feelings for you pretty quickly. Whenever he was home from work you would be his first thought and he realised that he loved you and no one could ever compare to you.

G = Gentle: are they gentle? If so, how?

Seb is always gentle with you, sure you two muck around and play fight but he would never intentionally hurt you.

H = Hand/Hold: how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

When out and about you can guarantee his fingers will be laced with yours. He likes keeping you close, knowing how you can get overwhelmed in big crowds so will always squeeze to give you reassurance that you’re not some and that you’re going to be okay.

I = Impression: first impression/s

You were an old family friend but you two hadn’t seen each other since the two of you were kids. Sebs mother had invited your family over for a barbecue since Seb was home for a while. When he came down stairs he saw you chatting with his auntie, and he couldn’t believe it was really you. You’d gone from being an adorable little girl to a stunning young woman.

You glanced away from his aunt and caught him staring at you so you flashed a smile and a small wave. Seb immediately had an unexplainable wave of anxiety wash over him. He walked over and his auntie excused herself to let the two of you catch up.

“Long time no see,” you said offering him a beer, which he accepted.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“It’s a lucky day for both of us then.”

The two of you were inseparable for the rest of the day, causing both your mother’s and his auntie to have plenty to gossip about.

The two of you ended up staying up all night chatting around the fire pit, cuddled up in a blanket together.

“Can’t risk you getting a cold or something,” he whispered wrapping his arm around you.

J = Joker: are they into pulling pranks?

You two would be silly and make each other laugh with shitty dad jokes and puns but you two weren’t prank sort of people.

K = Kisses: how do they kiss?

Sebastian is quite reserved in public so usually kisses your head or cheek but in private he will kiss you anywhere he can, he finds it hard to keep his hands and lips off you.

L = Love: who says I love you first?

He did. You two had been dating for a couple of months and he just knew it was love but he was worried that it was too soon to say it to you. I hat was until you two had gone out for drinks with some friends and you two ended up getting a taxi home and leaving the car at the bar.

Sebastian poured the two of you a whisky while you kicked off your shoes and lit the fire. Seb sat down next to you and passed your drink before wrapping an arm around you.

“Did you know…” you slurred turning your head to look at him, “you are my favourite person,” you pressed a kiss to his jaw before pressing kisses to his neck, leaving a small mark.

“Did you know that I love you,” he slurred back. You looked up at him in shock, just as much as he was; realising what he’d just said.

“Really? You love me?”

“How could I not, you’re perfect.”

M = Memory: their favourite moment together

You hadn’t been able to go to a race weekend and even though he didn’t show it he was bummed. You felt just as sad so you wanted to make it up to him. He got back to see candles lit everywhere and music playing softly in the background. The table was laid and dinner waiting. You were in the dress you’d worn on your first proper date together, which was coincidentally Sebastians favourite.

You spent the whole night pampering him after he’d worked so hard and by the end of the night the two of you were cuddled with up under a blanket by the fire.

N = Nickel: do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

Sebastian likes to occasionally spoiled you with jewellery or clothes. You don’t like him spending so much money on you but he would always respond with “nonsense my angel deserves the best.”

O = Orange: what colour reminds them of their other half?

Light green. You wore a necklace that you’d had since you were a kid and it had a small light green emerald inside it. He was so used to seeing you wear it he automatically associated the colour with you.

P = Pet names: what pet names do they use?

Engelchen, Schatz, my everything.

Q = Quaint: what is their favourite non-modern thing?

Cuddling up by the fire and chatting. You would sit there for hours discussing anything that came to mind. You just enjoyed being in each others company.

R = Rainy Day: what do they like to do on a rainy day?

Usually you would start the day by trying to do jobs around the house but Seb gets bored and insists that you two take a break that never seems to end. Then you usually watch a movie or cuddling up in bed.

S = Sad: how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Sebastian goes quiet and finds ways to occupy himself. You always notice fairly quickly and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight.

“I love you so much,” you will say giving him a squeeze, causing him to hold you as tight as he can and let everything out that’s on his mind. As long as you were in his arms he felt safe.

T = Talking: what do they love to talk about?

Anything. You two could talk about paint drying and find a way to make it interesting. He spends half his day texting you random things because he misses you.

U = Unencumbered: What helps them relax?

Taking baths together. He brought a purposefully large bath so that you two could both fit in it. He loves holding you close, with your back against his chest and pressing kisses to the side of your head or neck while whispering how much he loves you.

V = Vaunt: what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Seb only shows off on track. His personal life is kept private.

W = Wedding: when, how, where do they propose?

Seb proposed to you on your three year anniversary. You were four months pregnant and didn’t really want to dress up all fancy and have to go out so Seb set up a beautiful dinner in the back garden. After you had finished pudding Seb took your hand in his and told you how much you mean to him before getting down on one knee and asked you the questions. You said yes and pressed your lips to him before he slid the ring on your finger. You had the wedding a few months after you gave birth so you could have the kids in the photos.

X = Xylophone: What's their song?

Thunderstruck - AC/DC

Y = You're the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

You're the lightning to my thunder.

Z = Zebra: if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

You both had dogs but when you got pregnant you got a puppy so your kids could grow up with their own dog.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #formula 1 one shot #f1 x reader #formula one fanfic #formula one imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic #f1 fluffy a z #fluffy a z

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Hot Chocolate.

Pairing: Chris Evans X F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: Nope

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Summary: Chris Evans has seen this woman a couple of times before. Turns out, she's a good friend of Scott's, and the two brothers are supposed to meet at the park that day.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! A lot happens in this fic and I hope it makes sense... Enjoy!

---

Chris paused in his tracks when he saw her. He had seen her around a handful of times. She was standing between two groups of men, scolding both the groups as the men hung their heads low in shame. "Now can we all apologize to each other and play nicely?" she huffed, placing a hand on her hips. "Yes Y/N," they drawled, the groups united and they began playing their game again— dodgeball.

A smile bloomed on Chris' face. She was the mother of the group. Every friend circle had a mother hen, and that was… Y/N, they said? She was the only girl in the group of 7, but just as badass as all the boys. "Chris, Chris!" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to see his brother, Scott, running towards him. "Hey man." The two men hugged and Scott glanced around.

His eyes lit up when he saw Y/N. "Y/N/N!" At the loud yell, Chris' eyes went wide as Y/N looked over at them, her lips forming a smile so beautiful that Chris was rendered speechless. "Scott!" she exclaimed happily, running towards them. Unfortunately, she happened to trip over a small rock and stumbled forward, landing on her front with an 'oof' and a groan.

Scott simply laughed as Chris ran forward, terrified. He helped her up, offering her his arm. She clutched it when her head started spinning. "Still as clumsy as ever," Chris' brother snorted and Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. "Still as immature as ever. Be more like your brother, dude, he helps." The tip of Chris' ears turned pink as Scott rolled his eyes.

"Mind introducing me to your friend?" Chris spoke as Y/N dusted the front of her t-shirt. "Right, this is Y/N Y/L/N, a very good friend of mine. Y/N—" She cut him off by waving her arm in dismissal. "Who doesn't know Chris Evans? It's very nice to meet you, sir." Chris grinned at her. "Chris will do just fine, darling." Scott huffed at the nickname.

"That's my best friend, douche."

"And what about it?" Chris countered, turning to Y/N with a worried look when she groaned. "What happened?" he asked. "I skinned my knee and ruined my pants." The three of them turned to look at Y/N's legs; her pants were torn on the left knee and blood was seeping into the pants through the wound. "That's not a skinned knee, that's a whole wound!" Scott yelled.

"Well, now I know why it hurts so much," she laughed in defeat, leaning on Chris. "My house is nearby, why don't we go there? Get you cleaned up," Chris offered. "Boys!" Her group of friends turned to them. "I'm going with Scott!" They shouted their goodbyes to Y/N and hellos to Scott, getting back to their game. "You know the guys, too?" Chris asked his brother.

"Yeah, man, as if I'm going to let her hang out with just any group of men. Let's go to your place, can't wait to see Dodger again," Scott grinned. The three of them left the park, Y/N doing her best not to fully lean against the handsome man who was almost carrying her at this point. She had had a crush on Chris Evans ever since she became friends with Scott; that was almost 10 years ago.

Imagine holding onto a crush for that long.

How did Chris not know her if she was such good friends with Scott? That will forever remain a mystery, he thought.

"So, Y/N, what do you do?" Chris asked her to take her mind off the wound that was now starting to throb badly. "Last year PhD student," she answered, hissing. "Nice, nice. Which subject are you getting your PhD in?" he smiled. "Law. I love A Starting Point, I never miss an episode." She looked up at him, giving him a small grin. "That means a lot, thanks."

"If this is your version of flirting, change it. It's very boring."

Scott snickered as Chris and Y/N both gave him glares. Soon, they reached Chris' house and Chris opened the door. Dodger was asleep in the sitting room and Scott immediately ran over to the dog, petting him. Chris, meanwhile, took Y/N to the bathroom. "Take a bath, you have mud all over you. I'll keep clean clothes outside." She let go of Chris' arm and he immediately wished she hadn't done that.

"Oh, but uh… your clothes…" she stammered, blushing furiously. Chris rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging. "Don't worry, I'll find something that fits. I'll also keep a towel outside." She nodded and closed the door when he left. Chris went to the stairs only to see Scott standing at the bottom of the stairs, his hands on his hips. "What do you want?" Chris sighed.

"Ask her out, please!" the younger man groaned as Chris went to the guest bedroom, taking out the towel kept in the cupboard in the room. "It's not that easy," Chris muttered, walking to his room. Scott followed him. "Why not? You were blushing so much when I introduced you to her," Scott pouted. "She is gorgeous, I agree but— but what makes you think she'll wanna go out with me?" Chris startled when Scott burst out laughing.

"That woman has had the biggest crush on you ever since the first Captain America movie came out, okay? There's no way she is going to say no to you. I have to warn you, though, if you ever break up, I'm breaking your kneecaps." Chris gave his brother a shove, but a smile bloomed on his face when he went downstairs, a towel, a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts in his hands.

"Y/N?" he called out, knocking on the door. "Just leave the clothes outside, I'll get them!" She called out from inside. "Do you want anything to drink? Hot chocolate, maybe, tea?" he offered out of the blue, leaning against the door. "Hot chocolate sounds nice, thank you!" He nodded and went to the kitchen. Y/N, when she heard his footsteps echo away, shuddered in pleasure.

Oh my God, was she really going to sit there and have hot chocolate with her crush and his brother, who happened to be her good friend? She quickly got out of the tub, wincing when her knee jolted with pain. Y/N grabbed the towel and dried herself off, careful about avoiding the wound which had not stopped bleeding.

She put on her bra and panties, flushing when she realized that the t-shirt Chris gave her was slightly see-through. She put it on anyway, also wearing the shorts. "Um, Scott?" she called out upon walking out of the bathroom. "Yes, babe?" he yelled from the sitting room and she walked outside, sitting next to him. "Did you not clean your wound?" Scott sighed when he saw her knee.

"It won't stop bleeding, I think I have to bandage it," she groaned, leaning back on the couch. "Should I help with that?" Both Scott and Y/N turned to see Chris standing there, holding three mugs of hot chocolate. Y/N's breath hitched, he wanted to clean her wound? "That would be amazing!" Scott agreed with a proud smirk. Chris rolled his eyes at his brother and kept his mug down.

"I'll bring the first aid kit."

"Scott," Y/N hissed as Scott hurriedly finished his hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table. "I just got an urgent text message, I need to go," he smirked at her. "Shut up," she growled when he got up, ruffling her hair. "Enjoy your date," he crooned, leaving the house before Chris could return with the first aid kit. Y/N simply sat there and clutched her mug, imagining it was Scott's neck instead.

"Where did Scott go?"

Chris blinked when he walked back into the sitting room. "He got an urgent text, he had to go." Chris saw right through the lie. "That bastard," he grunted under his breath but Y/N heard and giggled. "Language," she chided jokingly and he grinned at her, sitting on the floor in front of her. "Why did it not stop bleeding?" he asked as he carefully cleaned the wound.

Y/N moaned in pain when the ball of cotton dipped in antiseptic came in contact with her knee. "I don't know," she muttered, a tear leaking out of her left eye as he continued wiping the blood away. "Aw hey, don't cry, it'll be fine," he whispered softly, leaning up to flick the tears away when he heard a sniffle. "Yeah I know, sorry…" He shook his head as he tied a bandage to her knee.

"Don't apologize, I know it hurts. You gotta be brave, though." She nodded when he stood up, keeping the first aid kit away. He washed his hands and came back to examine his work. A spot of blood was visible on the bandage. "Feeling better?" he smiled at her, sitting next to her with his own mug of hot chocolate. He took a sip; it had gotten a bit cold but he could manage.

"A lot. Thank you so much, Chris, you're awesome."

"All my pleasure, darling. Wanna watch a movie?"

She shrugged and he switched the TV on. Y/N kept her empty mug on the table as he flipped through the channels, stopping when he saw that Mr and Mrs Smith was playing on one of them. "How about this one?" Y/N nodded and leaned back against the couch, smiling to herself when Chris rested his hand against the backrest, almost dropping his arm around her shoulders.

---

Y/N's eyes started drooping with sleep half an hour into the movie, the bath, the hot chocolate and the 2 hours of exercise in the park finally catching up to her. "Sleepy?" Chris chuckled softly when she yawned, rubbing her eyes. "I should probably get going or I'll fall asleep right here," she laughed, turning to get up but Chris grabbed her hand. "Sleep here, I'll wake you up in a few hours," he insisted.

Y/N bit her lip in apprehension. "You shouldn't walk, not when your knee is like that," Chris tried again, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth when he saw Y/N's expression. "Okay, fine." Chris smiled hugely when she relaxed against the couch. She yelped when he brought her closer to him, making her rest her head on his chest while he put an arm around her shoulders.

"I got you, sleep." Y/N snuggled further into his comfortable arms, not believing this was happening but not wanting to ruin the moment. Chris switched off the television, taking his phone out as he rubbed her back with his left hand, lulling her to sleep. When she finally fell asleep his hand rested against her hip, holding her to him. He opened the messaging app, rolling his eyes when he saw messages from Scott.

Did you two kiss??????

Chris smirked to himself, took a quick selfie of him holding Y/N in his arms, and sent it to Scott. The man replied within seconds.

OMG

I'm warning you again

If you break her heart

I'm breaking your kneecaps

You're breaking my kneecaps

Yeah I know that

Don't worry I'm not going to break her heart I promise

Good

Gtg fr this time bye

Bye

Chris kept his phone away for a moment as he adjusted himself; getting comfortable while also making sure Y/N was comfortable. Then he picked up his phone again, opening Instagram as his arms went around Y/N's waist.

---

"Mm!"

Y/N stretched her arms above her head as she opened her eyes, blinking when she realized Chris was not next to her. "Chris?" she called out, sitting up. No response. She couldn't even hear Dodger's bark. Where was he? She stood up and waddled all over the place, yelling Chris' name. Finally sure he wasn't at home, she groaned and plopped down on the couch.

She was alone at Chris Evans' house.

"Damn it," she muttered, suddenly spotting the three mugs that were still on the table. Well, Chris had shown her such wonderful hospitality, she should only return the favor, right? Smiling, she got up and grabbed the mugs, taking them to the kitchen. She laughed when she saw a mountain of dishes still in the sink; she was lazy when it came to doing dishes, too.

Taking out her phone and playing songs, she kept her phone on the kitchen counter and started washing the dishes. It was the least she could do for him after he let her stay at his place for— she checked the time; almost 5 hours. She had been here for almost 5 hours now.

"Dodge, come on bud, time to go home!" Chris shouted and Dodger came running over, leaping into Chris' arms. The man laughed and they walked back to his house. When they entered, though, Chris was a bit surprised; he could hear songs playing in the kitchen and the unmistakable sound of water running. Quietly tiptoeing into the sitting room, he peeked into the kitchen and saw Y/N.

He gulped; the sight of her wearing his clothes, standing in his kitchen doing the dishes for him was something else. She was singing along to the songs, not at all aware of his presence. "Y/N." She yelped and almost dropped the plate she was holding, turning to look at Chris. "You scared me!" she laughed, giving him a huge smile.

Unable to help himself, he strode forward, took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

Y/N kissed him back, wide-eyed. "What was that for?" she whispered when he pulled away, panting. "You didn't have to," he spoke instead, running his thumb across her bottom lip. "It's the least I could do," she chuckled when he took the sponge out of her hand, keeping it to the side. He easily picked her up and set her down on the counter, reconnecting their lips.

"God, you're so awesome. Please stay for dinner," he pleaded after their 15 minute make out session got over. "Okay, I will," Y/N giggled, putting her arms around his shoulders. He carried her out of the kitchen and they sat down on the couch, Chris holding her on his lap. "Where were you? You took Dodger for a walk?" Y/N asked him as Dodger sat near the table, closing his eyes.

"I did, yeah. I also filmed another episode of ASP, you were out cold for a long time," he laughed. "I know, I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, this must've been the breaking point. Thanks for not waking me up." He gave her a kiss on the forehead, smiling. "Of course, darling."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #captain america #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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j-j-ehlby-writes · 3 years

Text

Almost (c.e.)

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: You and Chris were set up on a blind date by your mutual friends. Sparks flew, but you never heard from him again. Two years later, you come face-to-face with him once more for their friends wedding.

Warnings: Some angst, swearing, not much else

A/N: This is a mixture of the movie “Life as We Know It” (mmm Daddy Josh Duhamel 🤤), a dating experience I had, and one scene from One Tree Hill. Enjoy.

My Masterlist

Two years ago…

My heart is pounding all the way to my ears. My hands are shaking under the table. My knee bounces uncontrollably as I wait.

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let her convince me to do this?

“You haven’t had a boyfriend for as long as I’ve known you.” My best friend so pointedly mentioned when we were out to lunch last week.

“What’s wrong with that?” I counter.

“I’ve known you for three and a half years.” She deadpans. Even without looking at her, I know she has her eyebrow raised at me and her lips are pursed.

“Your point?” I know she thinks my serious lack of companionship these past few years is wearing on me, but it’s been quite the opposite. Not being attached is freeing. I can do what I want when I want; I don’t have anyone to answer to. If I want to sleep until 3 on a Saturday, I’m going to do it. If I don’t want to socialize with anyone, I won’t. If I want to take a spontaneous road trip, I’m going to do it. My life is my own and that’s how I like it.

“I want my best friend to have someone to experience life with.”

My shoulders dropped, sighing in defeat. There was no way I was getting out of this conversation.

“I want you to be as happy as I am.” I see the love in her eyes as her mind goes to her boyfriend and their new relationship. They’ve only been together for a few months, but I know that this is it for her. She’s a smitten kitten and he is equally as infatuated with her. They’re sickeningly cute. “Which is why I think you need to meet one of his friends-”

“Lemme stop you right there,” I interrupt her, “I hate blind dates.”

“You’ve never been on one.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” She rolled her eyes at me. “They’re cliché, they’re awkward for both parties, and they never amount to anything, thus being a total waste of time.”

She sighed, “Ever the skeptic.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Regardless,” she continues, “I think you’ll really like this guy. He’s already expressed interest in you.”

Like that makes everything better. “Great so now I have to live up to his impossible expectations of me when I know absolutely nothing about him.” As if the idea of a blind date wasn’t bad enough, now it’s only a semi-blind date. There’s no doubt in my mind that she has hyped me up impossibly high, that’s what a best friend is for. However, when your confidence level is next to none and already skeptical of the pending meeting, there’s no way he’ll like who I am in reality.

“I can tell you anything you want to know about him.” She is bargaining with me. She really wants me to meet this guy. She wouldn’t be trying this hard if she didn’t believe we would hit it off.

“Well is he nice?” This was the only real question I had. If he isn’t kind then there’s really no future.

“Incredibly!” She continues to tell me of the many things he has done for a charity he started a few years ago and slowly but surely she was starting to convince me. If he was that generous then he has to have a good heart and therefore is a good man.

How bad could it be?

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Great, he’s late. That can’t be a good start.

Numerous reasons why popped into my head.

Reason one: he saw me and bolted.

Reason two: he got into an accident on the way here and he could be in the hospital.

Reason three: he changed his mind and decided to stand me up.

More and more played through my head as I sipped my drink.

By the time I was on my second drink, I was convinced he wasn’t showing up. I knew this was a ridiculous idea. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. I never should have listened to her.

I chugged the rest of my drink followed by some water before standing up to leave some cash. I was slightly humiliated for actually thinking this would be any different than all of my expectations.

My shoulder rammed into another as I turned to leave.

“Oh my, God, I’m so sorry!” A hand steadied me, gently grabbing the shoulder he ran into. “Are you okay?”

“My already small ego is a little bruised, but I think I’ll live.” I looked up to meet my assaulter’s eyes and immediately I froze.

Holy shit, it’s Chris Evans.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at me, his concern was directed towards me. In all of his charming, ray of sunshine, bearded glory, he was here.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. Traffic was insane over the bridge. I would have called but I don’t have your number.” He half-smirked but not in a cocky way. I’d seen him do it in interviews before. He could have come up with a lame excuse, but somehow I knew he was telling the truth.

“No, it’s okay. I understand completely.”

He sighed in relief, his gorgeous and perfect smile taking over his features. He looked down at the table and it disappeared. “Were you leaving?”

“Uh,” I stammered, “I was because I thought I was being stood up.”

“I feel awful. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s sit down, have a nice dinner, and get to know each other.”

I hesitate, now even more nervous than I was before.

As if sensing my hesitation, he decided to sweeten the pot a bit to persuade me, “We can even get dessert.”

I chuckle at his attempt. That’ll do it though. I sit back down with him following suit, finally starting our date.

We talked about everything. Anything and everything. No topic was off limits. Hours went by but it felt like minutes. We didn’t even know how long we’d been there until our waiter came to tell us that the restaurant was closed. We left and walked around the city until the night sky was giving way to the morning. He accompanied me back to my car, gave me the best hug I’ve ever received and a kiss on the cheek, promising we’ll get together again soon, and opening and closing my car door for me. I drove away with the biggest smile on my face and literal butterflies in my stomach. That was the best date I’d ever been on.

When I made it back to my apartment with the early morning rays peeking through my shades, I had a text message waiting for me from him. Just a simple good night, he had had an amazing time, and he couldn’t wait to see me again.

I fell asleep, hopeful. Hopeful that I would see him again, that this could maybe go somewhere. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it was hard not to. I hadn’t felt this way in an exceptionally long time. I haven’t been on this good of a date in equally as long. I can’t wait to see him again…

Present day...

I finally pull into the parking lot after an hour stuck in traffic. My 12-hour day at work today has taken a lot out of me. I’m exhausted, mentally and physically. Thankfully though, my 2-week-long vacation starts tomorrow. After that, I have fourteen days of no working, no getting up at the ass crack of dawn to be able to drive in miserable traffic, no dealing with difficult or boring co-workers. Just fourteen days of rest and relaxation, after the wedding of course.

My best friend and her fiancé are getting married on Saturday. I’ve watched them go through all of their highs and lows throughout the last few years and when he came to me telling me he planned on proposing, I couldn’t have been happier for them. He even asked me to secretly photograph the moment for her. She was more than surprised about everything.

Now their wedding is here and everyone couldn’t be more excited to celebrate them.

Tomorrow is their rehearsal dinner. The wedding party and their plus ones are all invited.

I walk into my apartment, immediately relieving myself from the confines of my shoes. A heavenly scent registers to me and I’m carried all the way to the kitchen. I see my sexy boyfriend standing at the stove with his back towards me.

“Hey babe,” he calls without turning around.

I hum, happily making my way towards him. I wrap my arms around his waist, placing a kiss on his back. “What is that unbelievable smell?”

He chuckles, vibrating through his chest. “Your favorite, of course.”

I hum again, “You spoil me, baby.”

He chuckles again, turning in my arms. His handsome face finally came into view. His gorgeous brown eyes look into mine as I get lost in his. For the past year, I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a while. Since the day I met him, it was like everything fell into place. He’s sweet, ambitious, funny, kindhearted, passionate, and just overall the best man I had ever met. He makes me so happy…

Oh who am I kidding? He’s perfect. He is everything I ever wanted. If I made a list of all of the qualities I wanted in a husband, he would check off every single box.

But the feelings I have had for him over the last year are nothing compared to what I had in one night for him. I find myself wishing his eyes were bright blue instead of dark brown. I wish his arms were around me instead of the ones around me right now. The butterflies from that night have stayed dormant ever since.

I don’t know what happened after that night. I honestly thought we had a good time that night. Conversations flowed seamlessly. We made each other laugh so hard we had tears running down our faces. The physical connection was there- at first he had his arm around my shoulders as we walked around town, but as time went on he slowly moved lower around my waist, eventually intertwining our hands together until we arrived back at our cars. He even said that he wanted to see me again.

But I never heard from him again after that one text message. No call, no text, not even a message from my friend’s boyfriend. Nothing. I was disappointed beyond belief. I didn’t think he was that guy: the type to ditch someone without any explanation or goodbye. I thought I understood him to be a gentleman. Everything I had read about him pointed to him being one of the purest humans in the world. This was the opposite of all of that.

From that day on, I’ve loathed him. He gave me the perfect evening and then cut me off cold turkey from anything further. I have a three strike rule. His first: he was late. His second: he tricked me into liking him. His third: he lied to me. Three strikes and he’s out.

I have tried not to look back since. It’s not without its difficulties though since he’s literally everywhere. On magazine covers, in commercials, movie trailers, streaming services- he’s there. Why did he have to be such a successful actor? If he weren’t, it would make for forgetting him that much easier.

No closure. No answers. Nothing.

The rehearsal dinner went smoothly the next night which hopefully was foreshadowing for the big day itself.

A majority of us were standing around about to start when the doors loudly being opened drew everyone’s attention away from our milling about. A man stood in the middle of the doorway then strode in like he owned the place. The closer he got, the more the details of his face came into focus.

No. Freaking. Way.

I look toward my best friend. She looked like she wasn’t shocked he was late, but she knew he was coming. I creep up behind her and clear my throat. Instantly she cringed.

“Did you forget to tell me something?” I whisper to her.

She sends me an apologetic smile, “Well, I actually put off telling you ‘cause I didn’t know how you would react and then I meant to tell you last night but with the whole ‘I’m getting married in two days’ buzz took over and now the rehearsal is here-”

“Just please tell me I’m not walking in with him.” I beg.

She chuckles nervously before she escaped to go greet him with her fiancé.

I turn to her sister who is also one of my closest friends. “Did you know he was going to be a groomsman?”

The guilt written in her face tells me everything I need to know. “She made me promise not to tell you.”

I groan, “The loyalty level around here is staggeringly low.”

I head over to where my boyfriend is standing and take comfort in his arms before I have to deal with the man who broke my heart.

“Are you okay?” He asks a little confused by my actions.

I nod, “Just tired from last night.” He chuckles at the mention of the night before, squeezing me into his chest.

“Alright everyone! Time to get started.” The wedding coordinator beckons us all to the back entrance of the barn standing next to our corresponding wedding party member. I stand right in front of the Maid of Honor and Best Man. I kept my eyes forward focusing on anything but the guy who took his place next to me.

“It’s good to see you,” He murmurs to me over the instructions of the coordinator.

I scoff and roll my eyes. He has the nerve to say that to me after two years of silence. I imagined a million times what it would be like to see him again. I’d imagined a lot of screaming with possible hitting. Or I thought about the ever-effective, old fashioned silent treatment. He doesn’t deserve to know that our one night out together effected me so much and I’ve carried a rather large torch for him ever since. At the very moment, it will be the latter, but there’s no telling what tonight and tomorrow will bring.

“Now ladies, rest- don’t grab- your hand near the crook of his arm. Men, keep your arm at that angle with an open hand resting on your stomach- no fist. And don’t forget to smile- this is a happy day!” As quickly as he showed up, the coordinator was on to the bride and her father before either of us could register he was there.

I begrudgingly did as I was instructed, “resting” my hand on his bare forearm, holding a stand-in bouquet for the occasion in my other hand.

“Are you not going to talk to me?” He speaks again but I ignore him once more.

Thankfully that was when it was our turn to walk down the aisle. For the rest of the rehearsal, he didn’t get a chance to say anything else. As soon as we were done, I go straight for my boyfriend. I figured there’s no way he would approach me if I were with another man.

We all head to the restaurant afterwards to celebrate the last night before our friends begin their lives together as husband and wife. I keep my distance from Chris, always sticking close with my boyfriend.

The one moment I was alone was when I went to the bathroom. I thought for the few minutes I wouldn’t be in danger.

However I was wrong.

As soon as I step out an arm shot out in front of me. A very pale muscular arm.

“Are you seriously going to ignore me for the next two days?”

I duck under his arm fully planning on continuing what I set out to do.

“Y/N,” he grabs my arm, “will you please talk to me? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”

I whip around hopefully sending daggers his way. “Are you serious right now?”

“She finally speaks!” He exclaims.

“Because I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Like, I don’t think I heard you right.” All of the feelings I’ve been burying for two years were making their way up to the surface and I don’t think I can stop them. “We had a fantastic night. It was literally the best night of my life, it was the most comfortable with a guy that I had ever been. You made me laugh, you gave me butterflies, you helped me feel for the first time in years.” I try to swallow down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You told me you wanted to see me again. You made me excited for the future for once in my life… and then you took it away.”

With every second that passed, his expression got closer and closer to utter defeat: his shoulders slumped, his grip on my arm loosened, his jaw slowly unclenched, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You were late,” I hold up one finger, “You tricked me,” two fingers,” “You lied to me.” Three fingers were up and in front of his face for emphasis. “Three strikes and you’re out.”

I back away from him, having nothing more I wanted to say. As soon as I turned the corner, I felt liberated… for about five seconds. When that passed, devastation hit. For the last two years, I’ve held out hope- I tried not to- but I did, that maybe someday something could happen between us. That maybe, just maybe, we could pick up where we left off that night.

Now that the moment of confrontation has come and gone, I feel all the hope fade away. All of those possibilities I pictured have left the building. Being with him is no longer an option. I have my boyfriend who makes me happy, who gives me everything I could possibly want.

The rest of the night went on without another incident. Chris kept his distance. However, I could feel his eyes on me for every second that passed as we sat at the table. It was a relief when we finally left and could retreat back to our hotel rooms for the night. The bride and I got to stay in a suite that we’ll all be getting ready in in the morning. They wanted to uphold the “not seeing each other the night before the wedding,” even though they’ve lived with each other for a year and a half now.

On the wedding day, everything went according to plan. Everyone was on time to hair and make-up, pictures went flawlessly, the weather cooperated with everything, Chris didn’t attempt to talk to me at all- it was a perfect day to watch two people who love each other commit to the other for the rest of their lives.

But then came the reception. That’s when I knew apparently all bets would be off. The ceremony was over. Niceties would wear off as more and more alcohol is consumed. I was not looking forward to it.

We make our ridiculous entrances and take our seats at the head table. We eat then speeches were made. Lots of laughs were had as the Best Man dished on stories he had with the groom growing up, a few tears were shed at her sister’s after recounting the moment the bride knew he was the man of her dreams- overall I’d say they were a success.

Again, I felt his eyes on me, burning holes in the side of my head from the other side of the groom for the entire dining portion of the evening. I kept myself from glancing in his direction, instead focusing on the conversations with the bride’s sister next to me and my boyfriend who is across the way- anything not to meet his eyes.

Finally the DJ announces it was time for all to convene on the dancefloor after the specialty dances. I immediately see my boyfriend start to stand, knowing he’d been ready for this all night. I’d been looking forward to dancing with him all night as well, I even removed my shoes in anticipation. As I stand up, a hand is held out in front of me. I knew whose hand it was. I remember staring at it as he would rub his lips on our date. The strength of it as it intertwined with mine as we walked down the streets of our town, the safeness I felt as he squeezed it if he detected I was getting anxious around a group of people and I needed the reassurance. I knew that hand well, unfortunately.

“Dance with me?” He nearly whispers in my ear. I didn’t realize he was that close until I could feel said whisper on my neck. I contain the shiver that runs down my spine at how husky his voice is. God I’ve missed that…

No! I will not be enchanted by him again. He does not deserve me.

I exhale the breath I was holding, it comes out a lot harsher than I expected. “No, thank you.” I turn away from him, but his hand gently grabs my arm stopping me from going any further.

He whispers again, “He’s not good enough for you,” before walking away.

I’m frozen in place. I glare at his retreating back as he makes his way over to the bar. My mouth hangs open in disbelief. How dare he… How fucking dare he assume anything about me or my relationship. He doesn’t know anything about what our relationship is like. My boyfriend treats me so well, spoils me even though I know I don’t deserve it. He listens to me, he cares about me, and he makes me laugh until I cry- he’s everything I’ve wanted in a man. Chris is the one who had his chance and subsequently blew it. He has no right to judge or even comment on my relationship when he knows absolutely nothing about it.

I hurriedly make my way to my awaiting boyfriend and pull him onto the crowded dancefloor. “You okay?” He asks me, “Did he say something to upset you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” All I wanted to do was forget about him and his irrelevant feelings towards my relationship…

…Except I couldn’t. His words rattled me. Does he see something I don’t? He told me on our date that he’s an excellent judge of character so he wouldn’t say something like that unless he got a bad feeling, right? Either that or he said it just to get under my skin and force me to talk to him. No matter the reason I hate him for it because my pride won’t let it stand.

I spot him leaning against the bar, staring directly at the two of us over the rim of his glass. His perfect eyebrow quirks up at the eye contact, that sets my blood to boiling. He thinks he’s so smug. I wish I could just slap that stupid hidden smirk right off his perfect face…

Following a few dances, I mutter something about him going to dance with the bride to my boyfriend before exiting the dancefloor. I rush out of the barn, away from the crowd needing some air from his suffocating gaze. I find a little lit area that’s perfect for pictures. There are rectangular hay bales set together as a makeshift U-shaped bench with some low watt bulbs strung up above between two poles. It would be serene if I weren’t already on edge.

After taking a few deep breaths, I finally feel like I can speak without yelling. “You had no right.”

I didn’t have to turn around to know he followed me out here. It’s exactly what I wanted him to do, just like it was his intention to get under my skin. As much as I wished to avoid this conversation it seems that we can’t go on without it. We may tear each other apart in the process, but this is my chance for closure. This is my only opportunity to get the answers I’ve been needing to move on for the past two years. Two years of wondering what went wrong after the most perfect date I’ve ever been on with an equally perfect man has been eating at my heart and mind. I hated always wondering “what if” or “what would I be doing right now if I were with him” especially when I started dating my boyfriend. I had no answers as to why those questions could not be. I thought with time I’d stop asking them, thinking I’d never see the man again. He’s a big movie star, why would he wonder about a woman he went on one date with?

As I expected, his deep baritone voice comes behind me, but his words do little to ease my nerves. In fact they set them off even more so than before. “I’m sorry.”

I scoff at his half-hearted apology, knowing he doesn’t mean it at all. “Oh bite me, Christopher.” I turn around to face him. God he looks even better out here. The subtle gold glow from the lights are complimenting his skin tone, they make his baby blues shine which just frustrates me more.

“Please, Y/N,-” He takes a step closer to me, but I won’t have that.

“No,” I take a step back keeping the needed distance between us for fear I may strangle him. “I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses. You had no right to pass judgment on a relationship that you know absolutely nothing about.”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “Oh, I’ve seen enough.”

“Really?” I jut my hip out, resting my hand on it. “In the two days you’ve been here, you think you’ve got us all figured out?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction.

My shaking hands clench into fists, trying my damnedest not to lose control. I entangle them into my hair as best as I can without ruining the work the hairstylist did this morning before running them down my face. He has some nerve.

“We had one night. One night! One nearly perfect night together and suddenly that makes you an expert on what is good for me?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘an expert’-”

“I wouldn’t say anything!” I interrupt, “I never heard from you again. Now after two years, you come in here acting like you know anything about me or my relationship? Who do you think you are?”

“A man who made a mistake!” He snaps.

There was a long pause. I never expected to hear that from him. All these years I wanted to think the worst of him for leaving me hanging like that. He got my hopes up, thinking we may have a future together only for them to come crashing back down to Earth when he never contacted me again. I wondered and wondered if maybe I read the signals wrong. Maybe I took his flirting as more than it was. Maybe the small gestures like his arm around my shoulders, on the small of my back, or the hand holding were only him being friendly. I wracked my brain going over every single detail of the night to try and pinpoint a reason for him not to have called me afterwards. I found nothing, which was equally as frustrating.

“Alright, I made a mistake.” He moves to sit on one of the hay bales. He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his head in his hands, letting out a huge sigh. “God I wanted everything with you.”

Once again, I’m frozen by his words. He what? But that doesn’t make sense. His words and his actions don’t line up- how could that be?

He removes his hands from his face, staring at the grass. “After that night, I wanted it all. I wanted to settle down, get the house with a white picket fence in the suburbs, carry you through the threshold after our wedding day, bring our children home from the hospital, watch them grow until we’re old and gray. I wanted everything.”

My heart aches. All of that was exactly what I wanted, especially with him. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes, my heart breaking mourning the loss of what we could have had by now if he had only said something.

I also find my anger growing as well. If he felt all of that, why did he not contact me again? Why did he give me hope that our night out together could have been the start of something good and then taken it away just as quickly?

“But?” There had to be a “but” coming after his statement. Clearly something stopped him from pursuing the possibility of “us,” destroying any future we could have had.

He sighs, “but…” he finally looks up at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was expecting. There was contemplation, confusion, honesty, agony…

I look away. In an instant I knew what he was about to say. It makes complete sense. He was at the height of his career, shooting movie after movie all around the world for a majority of the year. How would he have had time to have a relationship mixed in with that? He couldn’t.

“Your career was more important,” I interject, “I get it. I do.” I couldn’t fault him for choosing work over someone he just met, no matter how much he claims to have liked me right off the bat. He was going to be busy. We probably wouldn’t have had a lot of time to see each other. It’s not like I could give up my career to follow him. Besides even if I could have, he wouldn’t want that. He said so himself. He wanted someone who was independent; who could do their own thing and not be enveloped in his crazy life.

He stands up and steps closer to me, “no, that wasn’t it. I promise you that wasn’t it.”

There’s that word. Promise. He promised we’d see each other again soon after our night together. But he broke that.

“Then what was it?” My voice cracks at the end. I can feel my reserves slipping the more he speaks. I didn’t realize how much I missed his voice until now. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s been in the last few years. I have him and his hashtag blocked on all social media platforms so I don’t see anything of his on any of my timelines. My other friends think I don’t like him (only my best friend and her now husband know about our date). To hear it again brings back all of the good memories we made together in that short night and all of the emotions I’ve been holding back since. “I have been wracking my brain for years wondering what went wrong after that.”

“I got scared,” he finally admits the truth. “I got scared of how much I liked you and how much I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me,” he casts his gaze down at his hands as he fidgets with them, “and my life. I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos that is my life. I know what my fans would do to you if we were in a relationship, I was trying to protect you from all of the ugly that being with me comes with.”

So that’s what he was afraid of? He was afraid our relationship would inevitably end exactly like his last one? His “fans” were horrible to her. They sent death threats to her and her family members, always commenting negatively on her social media pages all because she was dating him. I remember reading about it right after it happened. I knew that side of his fandom was toxic. But did I care? No. Did I think I couldn’t handle it? I honestly don’t know, but would I have been willing to deal with it for him? Yes. I would have given up anything to be with him. That’s precisely why he did what he did. He didn’t want me giving anything up for him because he knows I’d be giving up any semblance of privacy I had if I were in a public relationship with him.

If I had known these were the reasons why he ghosted me, I would have been broken hearted but I would have understood. Hell, I probably would have fallen more in love with him if I knew that, not fallen in loathe.

He continues, “I thought that if I never contacted you again, you could move on”- he clears his throat-“and find someone better than me who could give you the normal life you deserve. Which as much as I wish I couldn’t, I see that you have…” he pauses as if deciding whether he should keep speaking. When I don’t stop him, he does, “But I can’t help feeling like that could have been me.”

My slightly shaky hands cover his fidgeting ones. His hand moves until he’s intertwining our fingers together, palms touching. They fit perfectly together as if they were each other’s missing puzzle piece. His thumbs stroke mine sending warmth down my arms all the way down to my toes. The sparks I felt back then return with full force. He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. My heart is beating out of my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t feel it in some way.

I feel my heart break in my chest. My lip quivers and the tears threaten to make themselves known. My only saving grace is the fact that he can’t see my face. I may lose it completely if he did.

His breath is coming out equally as shaky between us, he squeezes my hands as if he doesn’t want me to let go. Believe me, I don’t want to. I bring one of our interlocked hands up to my lips. I kiss the back of his hand because I can’t kiss him where I want to. I pull back just enough to see his beautiful baby blues that could have any woman in the world swoon. They were terribly bloodshot right now but that only made them more tragically breathtaking. I tear one of my hands out of his and bring it to his cheek. He leans into it, a tear drops into the crevices between the contact.

The barely above whisper that came out was all I could muster without having a total breakdown because he’s right. It could have been him. We could have been something great. We could have built a life together. We could have had it all. And it broke my heart into a million pieces knowing all of this could have been avoided if life had handed both of us different lives.

“It almost was.”

~*~

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @princess-evans-addict

#almost #Chris Evans #christopher robert evans #christopher evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans drabble #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #jj ehlby writes

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

Please Say That You're Joking (Pt.1) - Chuck Shurley Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Please Say You're Joking (Pt. 1) [You can read part 2 by clicking here!]

Pairing: Chuck Shurley X Winchester!Reader

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): mentions of sex, threats of violence

Summary: (Season 4; Season 11) (Y/n) had a single one-night stand while coping with loss in a not healthy way... if only they had a clue about the weight of their actions.

Author's Note: I was recently going back through some of the "lighter" episodes of Supernatural because I wanted to watch something I could chuckle at. That's where this came from.

This might be the most crackheaded thing I've written in a while.

Also, the amount of things I had to bullshit my way through this is actually ridiculous.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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Sam, Dean, and I walked into the motel room. We were all confused and slightly scared.

We had gone to a comic book shop to do some work on a case. However, we were then called fans.

Fans of what?

Well, fans of a series of books about our lives.

I was the middle Winchester child. Two years younger than Dean, two years older than Sam. I was beyond confused when I saw some weird, romanticized version of me on the cover of a book.

"This is so weird," I mumbled, plopping onto one of the beds in the room.

Sam jumped onto his laptop and started researching. Dean was holding one of the books, reading through it. I didn't even want to touch it.

"I don't like how he describes (Y/n)," Dean commented. "It's weird. It's like he's in love. Listen to this..."

Dean dramatically clears his throat and starts to read in an even more dramatic voice, "'Even after a hard hunt, (Y/n) could easily be seen as the most beautiful of the siblings. They mimicked the beauty of their mother more than their brothers. There's no bruise or cut that could take the loveliness away from the natural curves of (Y/n)'s face. If only they could see how everyone else would stare-"

"Okay, ew," I muttered, walking to the table. "What'd you find?"

"Well, it seems like Carver Edlund is a pen name," Sam shrugged. "And the fans are intense."

"As in," Dean asked, closing the book and joining the two of us at the table.

"Well," Sam handed me the laptop so Dean and I could look at it, "there's fanfiction. About all of us."

"What's this, 'Sam/Dean'," I asked.

"It's... me and Dean... together."

"They just don't care that we're related," Dean asked. Sam nodded.

"God, this is so weird."

"So, how do we find this guy," I asked.

--time skip--

We managed to find the publisher of the novels and found her house.

"So, you published the 'Supernatural' books," I asked as we walked in.

"Yep," she nodded. "Yeah, gosh. These books... they never really got the attention that they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap."

"Could not agree with you more," I said. "We're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series."

"Yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we can start publishing again," she replied excitedly.

"No, no, no," Dean immediately shut her down. "I mean, why... why would you want to do that? It's such a complete series with Dean going to hell and all."

"Oh my god, that was one of my favorite ones," she rambled. "Dean was so strong and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean... the best ones are when they cry... like in 'Heart' when Sam had to kill Madison; the first woman since Jessica he'd really loved. When Dean had to call John in 'Home' and ask him for help. Or when (Y/n) went back to the motel room after getting kidnapped and just had to sit in their own head and had to truly process not only the death of their mother but now their father. The mixed feelings were amazing."

"You're a really big fan," I noted. She nodded.

"Gosh, if only real men were that open about their emotions."

"Real men," Dean asked.

"I mean, no offense," she replied. "How often do you cry like that?"

"Well, right now I'm crying on the inside," he muttered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Lady, this whole thing is funny."

"How am I supposed to know this is legit?"

"Oh, trust me," Dean mumbled. "We're legit."

"Well, I don't want some smart-ass article making fun of my boys," she snapped as she sat in her chair.

"Oh, never," I replied quickly. "We actually are big fans."

"You read the books?"

"Cover to cover," I promised.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean smiled proudly.

"What's May 2nd?"

"That's my- uh... Sam's birthday," Sam replied.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?"

"Umm... 174," Sam said nervously.

"(Y/n)'s first hunt?"

"Vampire in Washington," I answered. "Dean was at the motel sick and (Y/n) almost chopped John's head off when he scared them."

"(Y/n)'s favorite memory that's not related to hunting?"

I smiled, "Helping Sam get ready for a date when he was a teenager because Sam didn't trust what Dean had told him."

"Dean's favorite song?"

"It's a tie," Dean replied. "Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues.'"

She finally laughed and smiled again, "Okay, okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name," Sam asked.

"Oh, no. I can't," she shook her head.

"We just wanna talk to him," Sam continued. "You know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private," she shrugged. "Like Salinger."

"Please," Sam tried again. "Like I said, we're um... big fans."

Sam unbuttoned his shirt enough to show his anti-possession tattoo. Dean pulled his shirt to the side to do the same. I rolled my eyes and yanked the arm of my jacket down and pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt. I don't wear as many layers as them and I had opted to put the tattoo on my upper arm because I thought it looked nicer.

"Awesome," the lady mumbled before standing up. "Y'know what?"

I looked away as she pulled her pants down.

"I got one too."

"Wow, you are a fan," I slapped Dean's arm. The lady fixed her clothing before grabbing a pen and paper.

"Okay," she said. "His name's Chuck Shurley-"

And I stopped listening after that. I knew that name... why did I know that name... oh... oh no. I'm gonna kill him. We're going to meet this man and I am going to end up killing him.

I followed Sam and Dean as they started walking out of the woman's house.

"Excuse me," she called as we reached the door. We looked back at her. "I'm sorry, but you look exactly like how I picture (Y/n) when I read the books."

I chuckled, "Thanks."

"He describes (Y/n) with so much detail," she smiled. "You could play them in a movie."

"Thank you," I waved as we walked out.

"'You could play them in a movie,'" Dean teased.

"I know who Chuck is," I said, ignoring him.

"What," he asked. I nodded. "How?"

I pointed to get into the car. I got in the back seat and Sam and Dean sat upfront. Dean started driving to the address the lady gave us before I started speaking.

"Okay, when you went to hell, Sam's not the only one who ran off," I explained. "I wasn't gone for four months... just two weeks. In those two weeks, I got involved in a single one-night stand. The name he gave me was Chuck Shurley."

"You screwed the man who wrote books about us," Dean asked, sounding angry.

"Do you think I knew he was writing books based on our lives?"

"He had to have known who you are," Sam added. "This isn't an accident. He has to get visions or something."

"Yeah, I know," I nodded. "He made money off of my name and then screwed me."

"Damn," Dean mumbled. "I missed a hell of a lot."

I rolled my eyes.

--time skip--

I knocked on the door loudly. Sam grabbed my arm, shaking his head at me. The door was opened and I smiled obnoxiously as Chuck. He was in a robe, his boxers, and an old white shirt. He looked tired and like he hadn't had a goodnight's sleep in days.

"Chuck Shurley," Dean asked.

"Chuck Shurley that wrote the Supernatural books," Sam added.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "This is Sam... Dean... and I'm (Y/n)... the ones you've written books about."

Chuck sighed and went to shut the door. I stepped in, stopping it with my foot.

"Listen, I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do and I remember you," he motioned at me, awkwardly grinning before seeming to shake the memories out of his head. I almost slapped him right then. "But please... go get a life."

"You see," Dean followed me, helping to force our way inside. Sam made sure the door shut behind us. "We have a life... and you're selling books about it."

"Okay, this isn't funny," Chuck mumbled.

"You're right," I said. "We just wanna know how you're doing it?"

"I'm just a writer, I'm not doing anything."

"Then why do you know so much about demons and tulpas and changelings?"

"Is this some kind of 'Misery' thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"No, it's not," I shook my head. "Believe me, we're not fans."

"What do you want then," he asked.

"I'm Sam... and that's Dean and (Y/n)," Sam tried again.

"Those are fictional characters," Chuck yelled. "They aren't real!"

Dean grabbed him and pulled him outside.

"Wait, wait-"

"We aren't kidnapping you, calm down," I rolled my eyes. Dean opened the hidden compartment in the impala's trunk.

"Are those real guns?"

"Yes," I nodded. "And real rock salt, real fake IDs."

Chuck let out a laugh at it, "Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number-one fans. That... That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some poster in the house."

"Chuck, stop," I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm as he went to walk away.

"Please don't hurt me," he begged.

"How much do you know," Sam asked. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Have you not been listening," I asked. "The real question is how do you?"

"Because I wrote it," he explained.

"You kept writing?"

"The books never came out because the publisher went bankrupt," he furrowed his eyebrows.

I stepped back, letting go of his arms.

"Okay, wait a minute," Chuck crossed his arms. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did Phil put you up to this?"

"Oh my god," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I grabbed his robe. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n) Winchester, these are my brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. You wrote and published books about us, probably knew who I was, and then you still slept with me."

He stared at me in shock.

"What," I asked.

"The last names were never in the books," he mumbled. "I never told anyone about that. I never even wrote that down."

"Then I guess we have a lot to talk about," I let go of his robe.

The three of us followed him inside.

--time skip--

"I got a visit from Cas," Dean explained as he walked in. "I've some important information."

After talking to Chuck and getting a draft of what was supposed to happen, we were all panicking. Dean told us to wait here. Lilith was going to come for Sam and we both thought it'd be harder if there was more than one of us here at all times.

Now, Dean was coming back from seeing Chuck.

"And that important information is...," Sam trailed off.

"He's a prophet of the lord," Dean said, smirking at me.

I shut my eyes, letting my head fall forward.

"Please say you're joking," I mumbled.

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam looked over at me. He only started chuckling after his brother broke.

Dean was laughing his head off within seconds, "You screwed a prophet!"

"Shut up," I groaned. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Archangel will kill you."

"I'll happily pay that price," I muttered. "I slept with a prophet."

"At least that means he didn't write himself to sleep with you," Sam tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, God just decided I was supposed to sleep with the guy publishing books about my life," I replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Come on, it could be worst-"

"Sam, love you, but don't finish that sentence if you even kind of value your life," I muttered.

I was desperate for this conversation to just end.

--time skip--

After all was said and done, and Chuck accidentally helped us chase Lilith away for a while, we gave Chuck a lift back to his place.

I followed him up to his door, offering to look around and make sure that he's safe. He shook his head.

"I have an archangel protecting me," he reminded me. "Can't get any safer than that."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "About us. I didn't recognize you until after... it all... and I didn't say anything because I didn't really know how to explain it. The whole event makes me feel all scummy."

"It's alright," I replied with a chuckle. "It's fine, I promise."

He offered me a nervous smile, "Y'know, in all of my visions, you're the most vivid thing."

With a grin, I leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. I stepped back and headed back toward the impala. I made sure to take note of his nervous and flustered face.

"See you around, Chuck!"

"You... You too," he called after me. I got in the backseat and got comfortable.

"So... screwing the prophet wasn't that bad," Dean asked.

I just rolled my eyes, waving through the window at Chuck as Dean pulled away from the curb. Leave it to a Winchester to end up in a situation like that.

--time skip (season 11)--

Sam and I followed Dean with our guns ready. Dean was following the amulet that he had owned for a long time without even knowing it could show us where God was.

Everyone had been infected by Amara only minutes ago but now it was okay and Dean's amulet was glowing.

"Holy shit," I mumbled, seeing who was walking over to us.

Chuck.

He was supposed to be dead. That's why Kevin's prophet powers had been activated.

"No way," Dean said.

"Hey," Chuck... or God said. "We need to talk."

Despite our understandable hesitation, Chuck reached forward, teleporting all of us back to the bunker. I stepped away from him, slightly overwhelmed.

"(Y/n)," Chuck walked over and tried to grab my arm. I instinctually slapped him. I was nothing but confusion and anger. "I deserved that. Just, please?"

I stepped away again.

From behind Chuck stepped Kevin's ghost. My breath caught in my throat. The poor boy had been through so much shit because of us.

Kevin told us about how we looked stressed and that we should listen to Chuck.

Then, Chuck waved his hand. Kevin turned into a ball of white and blue light before ascending beyond the bunker.

"Where'd he go," I asked.

"Heaven, where he deserves," Chuck promised. I nodded.

I listened to the rant about how Chuck had abandoned us all and how awful things were. Then, the conversation turned to the plan to stop Amara. The boys talked about needing Lucifer and Chuck got incredibly upset. In a fit, he went to leave. I stepped in front of him.

"No," I said bluntly. "Even if you want to avoid the subject of your estranged son, you can't just leave."

"(Y/n)-"

"Sam, Dean," I looked at them. "Give us a minute?"

They both nodded, glaring at Chuck on their way out. I tried to ignore the instincts that were telling me that Chuck was just selfish.

"(Y/n)," Chuck mumbled.

"Just answer my questions," I said. "Then we can discuss what to do with Amara without you storming away recklessly. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Have you been God the whole time," I asked.

He nodded.

"You wrote all of our stories?"

Another nod.

"Did you write that I was going to sleep with you?"

I felt manipulated and angry. I was desperate for an answer. I knew that this could've made me feel like dirt, but I needed to know.

"No," Chuck said. I clenched my jaw, ready to call him a liar. "I told you. I had been pretty much hands-off for a long time. Did I know who were? Absolutely. I'm sorry I lied to you about that. But I didn't plan anything between us. We weren't some divine plan."

I nodded, looking down.

"You know how Dean and Amara are connected," he asked. I nodded, looking back at him. "We're like them."

"And that's not a divine plan-"

"I'm not doing a good job explaining this," Chuck shook his head. "It feels like we're like them. Like there's this bond that just happened as soon as we met."

"You lied to me, for years," I said. "Saying we have some bond isn't gonna fix that."

"I know."

We both fell silent. Slowly, I started laughing. Chuck furrowed his eyebrows, "My only one-night stand... and it was God."

Chuck started laughing with me while I really processed what I had done.

I slowly stopped laughing.

I didn't notice until it was too late that Chuck had slowly gotten closer to me. As soon as his lips brushed mine, I pushed him back. Not hard, but enough to get him to step away.

"No," I mumbled. "Not that, no."

Chuck nodded, "Got it."

"Now," I sighed, "we need to actually plan to stop Amara, and if we need Luci-"

"We don't," he said bluntly. "We can do something else. We don't need him. Okay?"

I nodded. In my gut, I trusted him. Maybe that was me being an idiot but I did trust him. For now at least.

-------------------------------------

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159 notes · View notes

chubbytummy · 3 years

Text

(first official post!!! pls enjoy and support!!! sorry in advance for any typos! T^T)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡✰ 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✰♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

synopsis:

(bts taehyung-seokjin centric)

taehyung has never had the best eating habits, indulging in junk food to his heart's content. what happens when it finally catches up with him, and his roommate/crush happens to notice?

tw: weight gain, mild feederism, eructo, mentions of past abusive relationships, mentions of insecurity, language, slight nsfw (barely)

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡

☆

♡

it was no secret to anyone around him that taehyung, as sweet as he was, gave absolutely no fucks about his eating habits. that was one thing he would tell you straight off the bat, and he was completely shameless about them too. if it was yummy, it was yummy. and if it was yummy, he was going to eat it. life was short, and wasn't the point of life to enjoy yourself and be happy?

that's what taehyung believed, anyway.

taehyung wasn't shy by nature; a social butterfly, if you will. he loved making new friends, chatting, and bringing people out of their shell. he was naturally charismatic and funny, and with the added-luxury of movie star looks, a deep and sultry voice, and a great physique, he always had a group of buddies around him. that's just how he was. he loved making people smile and laugh, enjoying the warmth and love that radiated off of those close to him. so, as it seemed, taehyung's life was a blissful stream of joy. he didn't have a care in the world, especially about his food.

that was until he graduated highschool and went off to college. you see, taehyung was quite athletic in highschool. participating in track and field and being in dance with his best friend, jimin, gave him plenty of, if not excessive exercise to burn off all those calories he consumed throughout the day. perhaps he was able to get away with his atrocious eating habits back then. however, there was a teeny problem. now, taehyung wasn't pursuing athletics or dance in college-- he was majoring in fine arts. that meant he wasn't getting the amount of exercise his body was used to. turns out, he didn't have as fast of a metabolism like he'd falsely believed, he just did a lot of cardio. so, factoring together the absence of any exercise (minus walks to classes and to the fridge), no changes in his diet, and the constant late-night junk food binges, things quickly started to add up.

literally.

it started with his cheeks. taehyung had been thin, bordering underweight, most of his life, so of course the little bit of newfound plumpness to his face would be noticable. yet, despite his soulmate's comments over 2 am facetimes saying "jesus, taetae, you look so young! drop the skin care routine, bestie," taehyung didn't see the changes. his cheeks poofed out and softened like freshly baked bread, and they always seemed to be puffy, like he'd just woken up. well, he had been taking a lot of naps lately, maybe that's why? he didn't really care, anyways.

the next noticable change was his hips, thighs, and ass. not only was taehyung blessed with a face sculpted by the gods, he also had a body to die for. if there's any higher power, they CLEARLY pick favourites. with a slim, trim waist and a naturally curvy figure, the weight gain only accentuated his hourglass shape. his hips widened generously, thighs thickened like heavy cream, and ass plumped out lusciously, filling up any seat he sat on to the brim and earning him more whistles and lustful stares then he was already receiving. yet, despite the constant catcalling from other students on campus, and the snugness of his pants, taehyung remained oblivious to his altered form.

the final shift in taehyung's appearance settled itself softly on his midsection. although he'd never had chiseled, drool-worthy abs like his new friend jungkook, who practically lived at the campus fitness center, his stomach had always been completely flat. now, it had softened entirely; he had a bit of a tummy. it wasn't very noticeable, at first, due to his knack for wearing baggy clothes, but it began to show over time. it was chubby and pudgy, and spilled over the waistband of his pants when he sat down. his belly was fluffy like the stuffing of a teddy bear, the surface doughy, as if you could sink your hand into it and leave behind a handprint. it was even more noticeable after he'd eaten. taehyung always bloated terribly. whether he'd had a bellyache, gas, or had just eaten something rather filling, his tummy always swelled up and pushed over his pantline and into his shirt. as well, love handles began to form, curling around his middle and warmly hugging his sides.

he was by no means overweight, but he wasn't exactly skinny anymore. he was softer, warmer around the edges. it suited him.

strangely enough, taehyung hadn't really noticed. besides a passing comment from a loved one, or a short-lived "hmm, that's new," in front of the bathroom mirror before dashing off to an already-late-to lecture, taehyung was pretty ignorant.

but how long can you ignore such a growing issue?

♡

☆

♡

leaning back and gazing up at the tile ceiling, taehyung sighed. he was currently in his friend jungkook's tiny dorm, sitting on his bed and waiting for his roommate, hoseok, to return with pizza. he really hoped he'd hurry up already. his belly was growling like it was angry with him. it was getting kinda scary.

"i really don't know, jungkook-ah, he's just... ugh." he mopplingly prompted his chubby cheeks in his hands and huffed.

"what do you mean you don't know, hyung?" jungkook asked crossing his beefy arms and shooting his friend a skeptical look. "you're like... the hottest and most outgoing guy i know. how haven't you scored a date with him yet?"

the "him" in question was taehyung's new roommate, seokjin. well, he wasn't exactly new. he'd been his roommate for over 5 months now, since his last roommate dropped out. yet, honestly, taehyung didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing that worldwide-handsome face in the same vicinity as him everyday. that would always be a shocker, no matter how many times they saw one another.

having a crush was new for taehyung. to put it bluntly, he knew he was good-looking. he definitely wasn't conceited or snobbish about his natural attractiveness, he honestly didn't care about looks. however, he was used to having a secret admirer or two, and unfortunately had to let many people down with his unrequited feelings. he never had any romantic attraction for anyone, even if he knew he was bisexual. in fact, romance really didn't play a role in his life. taehyung liked to paint, watch cartoons, eat snacks and play videogames. he chose friends and food over chasing after boys and girls. he hadn't even watched porn before, that's how uninterested in sex and relationships he was. call him immature or weird, but romance just didn't do much for him. it seemed boring. why would people waste there time on a silly boyfriend or girlfriend when they could be having fun? it just didn't make sense to him.

that was until he met his roommate. now, that was all he could think about. well, besides school and food, that is.

"that's rich coming from you, mr. i have muscles and a six-pack and tattoos and a fucking eyebrow piercing but i'm still too shy to even talk to jisoo." taehyung shot back with a smirk.

at that, jungkook flushed completely. it was true, despite being a 5 course meal plus desert, jungkook was the shyest person taehyung had ever met. he didn't have many friends besides taehyung, his roommate, hoseok, and hoseok's boyfriend. and the latter was just a friend of circumstances. the younger man also couldn't even look a girl in the eyes without blushing profusely and damn near pissing himself from nervousness. jungkook had a slight lisp and an occasional stutter as well, but taehyung found it quite endearing and sweet.

"t-that's not the point, hyung, and you know it!" jungkook replied hastily, still blushing. "why don't you just tell him how you feel? you've been pining after this dude for months!"

taehyung sighed heavily, the sigh morphing into a deep groan.

"because i literally don't know how! jin-hyung isn't going to take my confession seriously if i just say it! he's already rejected half the campus! he needs a gesture! some bold statement," taehyung explained in an exasperated manner, not caring if he was kinda rambling. "he deserves more than some half-hearted bullshit. i have to find a way to catch his attention, something to show him i'm different than the others. that i'm not just another idiot underclassmen trying to win him over! i just don't know what-!"

taehyung took a deep breath, ending his rant. he was beginning to feel upset, having a tendency to work himself up easily. he took a moment to collect himself, or at least try, and looked at the younger expectantly.

"don't look at me like that, hyung." he said after a moment, watching warily as taehyung took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "you know what you gotta do, so do it." he shrugged, still observing his friend. "leth' talk about something else, okay?" jungkook suggested, not wanting his hyung to get anymore upset.

before taehyung could protest, there was a knock at the door.

"that must be hobi-hyung." jungkook spoke, getting up to let his dormmate in. taehyung stayed seated.

as the elder entered the room, the heavenly aroma of pizza followed, wafting around the dorm and into taehyung's nose. his mouth watered. pizza was the perfect comfort food. it always made him feel sated and happy. he could never get tired of it.

"hey tae-ah, i didn't know you would be here!" hoseok beamed, as he brought the pizza boxes over and placed them on the table. "how are you?"

"stressed and hungry."

hobi laughed loudly, his sunshine-like smile lighting up the room. taehyung always liked him. he was sweet, funny, and very handsome. he had a slim build, was a hip-hop dancer, and taehyung had seen his abs before. he'd be jealous if he cared about looks.

"aren't we all?" he joked, before he turned around and looked back at the still open door. "aish, yoongi-hyung, get your ass in here already!"

a low, "i'm coming, fuck off," emitted from beyond the threshold, before hoseok's boyfriend entered the room with a goofy grin and cases of beer and soda in his arms.

looking up at him, taehyung was taken aback.

the last time he'd seen yoongi, at least long enough to get a decent look at him, he'd been skinny. not just skinny, but nearly malnourished looking. his face had been gaunt and he was tiny in comparison to a healthy body. a good wind could have knocked him over. that was months ago. the yoongi he saw now looked quite different. he was filled out, his cheeks plumped and colored as apposed to pale and lifeless like before. his midsection as well, was that a belly? small, yes, but it was there. he looked so much... different. he wondered why.

taehyung had heard about relationship weight many times, and had seen it first-hand as well. when someone gets into a safe and loving relationship, they naturally gain weight. hoseok had opened up to jungkook and taehyung a few times, admitting that yoongi had been in an abusive relationship in the past. however, he was in a healthy one with hoseok now. honestly, it warmed taehyung's heart to see the once frail and sad-looking boy happy and healthy-looking.

it made him wonder if he would ever find a relationship like that. would he put on weight as well? probably not. his metabolism was way too fast, anyways.

"i brought some beer, jungkook don't drink it all this time." yoongi grunted, setting the packs by the desk and plopping down next to his boyfriend on his bed. "oh, taehyung's here. good thing we bought too much pizza."

the others chuckled. taehyung cocked a brow and frowned slightly. what was that supposed to mean?

"i'm starving." jungkook stated to no one in particular, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and a can of beer. taehyung wouldn't be having any alcohol, though, because it always made his cholinergic urticaria act up, and he wasn't in the mood for an itchy rash. besides, he liked soda much more.

"i thought you were on a diet, kookie-ah!" hoseok fake scolded. jungkook scoffed playfully.

"it's called bulking, hyung." he joked. everyone knew he rarely let himself eat like this. he was extremely disciplined. taehyung might've been jealous. "and what about you? thought you were on a diet!"

"i am." the elder replied. "this is all i'm eating. i've still got that dance competition next week- yah! yoongi, don't get sauce on my sheets, you pig!"

he swatted weakly at the mint-haired boy, who nudged him in return and rolled his eyes. it made taehyung smile.

"you can have some too, taehyung-ah." hoseok spoke after a bit. it was then taehyung realized he hadn't gotten any yet. "i know how much you like pizza."

once again, another comment.

"i mean, i don't like it that much." he mumbled, grabbing a slice and and taking a bite. he knew he was bluffing. pizza was the best.

jungkook snorted.

"bullshit tae, you almost always eat an entire pizza whenever we hang out!"

it was true. on an empty stomach, he could scarf down a whole pizza. more if he was especially hungry.

he decided not to reply, finishing his first slide and heading for a second. sinking his teeth into the slice, he all but moaned. it was supreme pizza, his favorite.

"honestly, i have no idea where he puts it all." the redhead commented, finishing up his slice. that was all he'd probably eat, seeing as he's on a diet and all.

"i-i do!" jungkook teased, stuttering slightly from the excitement. "he puth' it all right here."

suddenly, taehyung felt a finger poke his belly. he froze. he looked down to see jungkook's tattooed pointer finger sunk into his plush middle.

"wow, taehyung-hyung." the younger softly exclaimed. "i didn't know your tummy was this squishy."

taehyung felt himself blushing. not out of embarrassment, but something else. jungkook was still touching his belly.

"no way, let me feel!" hoseok reached over, but all too late. taehyung swatted them away and curled into himself, arms wrapped firmly around his middle.

"don't! i'm ticklish!" he lied. yes, he was ticklish, but that's not why he didn't want them to feel his stomach.

it was a strange sensation, really...

♡

☆

♡

a pizza and a 2L of soda later, taehyung felt warm and fuzzy and full.

hoseok and yoongi had left for yoongi's dorm. taehyung was assuming they wanted some alone time, and he knew yoongi had his own private dorm. he didn't want to think about what they'd do, though. ew, just... ew.

taehyung leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling sated. he gently patted his taut tummy and let out a deep burp, sighing afterwards. that was another thing he was shameless about. if he had to burp, he always just let it out. leaving the trapped gas in his belly only made it hurt, so he didn't hold back. besides, it felt good and it was only natural. he usually didn't even say "excuse me." he didn't understand why he had to. everyone burped; why excuse yourself for something completely normal? unlike jungkook, who'd probably die from humiliation, taehyung wasn't shy about it. the only person he'd be even remotely embarrassed in front of was seokjin, but that's a different story.

"mmm, that was yummy, kookie. i'm stuffed."

jungkook was drinking another beer, beyond drunk by now. he mumbled something incoherent, followed by a hiccup and a groan.

"aw kookie, are you drunk?" taehyung teased, ruffling the maknae's soft, black hair. the younger grumbled again. "tired, little guy? let's get you to sleep, bun."

gently, taehyung guided the nearly-passed-out jungkook's head to the pillow of his bed.

"sleep well, bun." he whispered sweetly, leaving a feather-light kiss on the younger's forehead. he'd probably have to stop by tomorrow morning to take care of him when he woke up with a hangover. he was bound to have a killer one with all the beer he guzzled down, and taehyung knew hoseok didn't do well with vomit. he didn't mind, however. taehyung loved to take care of his friends, anyways.

before he left, taehyung cleaned up, ate the last couple pieces the boys left, and did some of the dishes for them. he also really needed to pee, so he made a quick trip to the bathroom.

once he'd gone and washed his hands, he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror.

i looked really good today, taehyung thought, peering into the mirror and adjusting his gold-framed glasses. despite being quite handsome, he still felt insecure sometimes, especially as of lately. with some of the comments his friends had been making, he wasn't sure what to think. it was almost as if there was some kind of big joke, and he was the only one who wasn't in on it. he really didn't know.

before taehyung could turn away and exit the small bathroom, his eyes caught something in the corner, by the shower.

a scale.

he had forgotten that jungkook did weight training. it was probably his to keep track of that. or maybe it was hoseok's, since he was on a diet and all. it didn't matter. it shouldn't matter.

however, for some reason, he wanted to try it. knowing your weight couldn't hurt, right? it's just a number, anyways. besides, he was curious.

taehyung pulled the digital scale out and stepped on it, waiting patiently for the box to calculate his weight. it couldn't be too much. he was thin, after all.

looking down, his eyes widened.

78.1kg.

he blinked.

huh. so that's how much he weighed.

the last time taehyung had been properly weighed was his physical exam before freshman year. that was nearly a year ago. he was so thin, weighing in at 60.3 kg. since then, he'd gained roughly 17.8 kg.

wait a minute, that couldn't be right, could it? but he had a fast metabolism! not to mention, he's fairly active. well... sometimes. but he does do a lot of walking! something had to be wrong.

taehyung stepped off the scale, allowing it to level back to a clear screen. he then stepped back on.

78.1kg.

this didn't seem possible. maybe it's because of his clothes. maybe he needed to strip down to his underwear like when he had a checkup at the doctor's. quickly, taehyung peeled off his corduroy pants and baggy sweater, leaving him in his undies and tata-themed socks.

what? they were cute!

standing back on the digital scale, taehyung peered down at the number expectantly.

it was the same, the clothes only weighing a little.

maybe it was all the food he just ate, or maybe he had to use the toilet? but that doesn't explain all those kilos...

he placed himself back on the ground, dumbfounded. how did he manage to put on that much? that was like the freshman 15 (lbs) tripled!

taehyung sighed lowly, before turning to face the mirror.

in just his undies, and for the first time since freshman year, taehyung noticed his body.

his thighs were thick, clinging together like chunky glue. gentle stretch marks adorned the insides, which weren't new, seeing as he's always been a bit thicker than his peers growing up. however, they were more prominent. spinning around, he viewed his ass, which giggled almost lewdly with the slight movement. the plump, golden globes looked even plumper than they had. he had always had an ass, but now? he could probably play a pixar mom in a live-action film.

last, but certainly not least, his eyes settled on the most obvious change: his stomach. his tummy hung over the waistband of his underwear, extremely bloated and round from his big dinner and all the soda he drank. yet, despite being stuffed with pizza, it had softness to it. taehyung ran his hands over his belly, pinching the excess pudge. it wasn't too big, but it was noticable. more than noticable.

taehyung wasn't skinny anymore. he had gotten a bit chubby.

and, strangely enough, he didn't care. infact, he liked it.

taehyung knew he ate a lot of unhealthy foods, that was just who he was. why would he deny himself all the yummy things he liked to eat, just to maintain an "attractive" body? so what he wasn't slim like hoseok or muscular and shredded like jungkook? his body was perfectly fine. it did it's job, and that was the important thing.

above all things, taehyung was shameless. having gained weight didn't mean a thing to him. he was an artist, after all, not a model. his figure really didn't matter in the long run. he was still the same handsome guy, just with a little extra chub. and, honestly, he wondered what he'd look like with just a little bit more. just another layer of cream on his body. he's sure he'd like it, especially with how he reacted to having his tummy poked earlier by jungkook.

so, with the new information tucked in the back of his mind, taehyung dressed and left the small bathroom, making his way out of his sleeping friend's dorm. after double checking on jungkook and leaving the wastebasket beside his bed, just in case he woke up sick, the fluffy-haired boy exited the dorm and began his walk down the hallway, back to his own dorm.

after eating, taehyung usually felt sleepy, so it was no surprise to him that he found himself growing sluggish and drowsy as he strode back to his room. it was a pleasant feeling, really. he'd probably take a nice nap when he got back. maybe make some hot chocolate and catch up on some dramas. yeah, that sounded nice.

as he opened the door to his dorm, he was met with a flush of warmth and soft light. faint music played in the background, and a scent immediately met his nose as he stepped in. it smelled delightful. that could only mean one thing.

taehyung hadn't expected seokjin to be home so early. he wished he'd known; he'd like to have put more time into his appearance. welp, baggy sweater and messy-haired taehyung would have to do.

"ah, tae! you're home!" he heard seokjin call from the stove as he shucked off his loafers. he suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right as seokjin walked up to him, all broad-shouldered and stupidly handsome. "how was your day?"

taehyung smiled as seokjin went in for a gentle hug, sinking into his warm embrace and inhaling his calming scent. seokjin was a real hugger, which taehyung appreciated because he, himself, was an absolute cuddle monster and jumped for any physical affection. it didn't help the butterflies in his stomach, however. he'd hope to just digest them already and move on from this silly crush.

"my day was a happy one, thank you," taehyung replied, nearly pouting as seokjin pulled away from the embrace. "how was your's, hyung?"

"better now that you're here." the elder smiled warmly, and taehyung felt his face heat up. seokjin always knew the right things to say to get his heart racing like mad. "come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while i cook?"

the younger nodded timidly, feeling pleasantly small next to his hyung. he followed him like a puppy to the dorm kitchenette, taking a seat at the small bar table.

"so," seokjin began, as he stirred a pot of glass noodles, keeping an eye on the vegetables and pork strips in the frying pan. he was making japchae, one of taehyung's favorite dishes. "have you eaten dinner yet?"

"oh, i ate pizza at jungkook and hoseok-hyung's place," he answered, hand going instinctively to his still-bloated tum, giving it a fond pat. "truth be told, i probably overate." he let out an uneasy chuckle in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth growing in his lower belly. what was happening to him?

seokjin waved him off.

"there's no such thing as overeating if it tastes good," he countered, and before taehyung could understand what was going on, a steaming plate of japchae was placed in front of him. it was a heaping serving, the small plate only making it look bigger. "here, have some of this."

taehyung flushed, gingerly sliding the plate away.

"um, i-i shouldn't, hyung," he stammered, hand still on his middle, almost defensively, as if he were guarding it. "thank you, but i'm still pretty stuffed."

seokjin chuckled deeply, full lips curled into a smirk. he pushed the dish back in front of him. taehyung gulped.

"taehyung-ah, i've seen you demolish three times this and more in one sitting. i'm not exactly convinced that 'stuffed' is in your vocabulary."

there it was. another comment about his eating habits. however, this time, instead of irritation, he felt something... else.

"jin-hyung, i-"

"you wouldn't let all my hard work go to waste, would you?" seokjin questioned, pouting. taehyung felt his heart jump. "i made this all just for you."

"well... alright. i'll have a bite or... two." taehyung finally spoke, unable to look his hyung in the eye. picking up the pair of chopsticks, he hesitantly began to eat.

it was delicious. of course it would be.

in all his time, taehyung had never met as good a cook as seokjin. not even his own mother --who could whip up a mean bibimbap like nobody's business-- could compare to his skills. the younger male couldn't even count on two hands how many times he's had his belly nearly bursting out of his pants from seokjin's cooking. whatever it was he was making, taehyung was sure to gorge himself to new heights every time; now was only proof of that. seokjin didn't seem to mind. infact, he encouraged it.

"taste good?" the elder quizzed, taking a seat in front of the eating boy and gazing at him fondly, if not a bit intently.

taehyung took a moment to finish chewing his mouthful and swallow. he grinned.

"amazing," he answered, licking his lips. "your cooking always is the best, hyung. it's, like, ethereal."

seokjin let out his iconic windshield wiper laugh, which only made his dongsaeng giggle.

"well, if it's good enough to pull out the 50 cent words for," be mused, leaning a tad closer. "then it's good enough to finish, yeah?"

taehyung's smile faded, as he peered up at the taller man wordlessly.

"you know i don't like leftovers, taehyung-ah. scrape your plate. clean."

he didn't have to tell taehyung twice. something about the subtle command in his tone --the sprinkle of dominance within the seemingly innocent words-- sparked a flame that licked into taehyung's belly.

he continued to eat, and before he could really process anything, his chopsticks clinked against an empty plate. instantly, a crimson heat spread over his face. it was as if he were a different person for a moment.

"all done?" seokjin questioned, taking the plate from the boy as he nodded sheepishly. "good job, tae-ah! you did so well!"

taehyung felt his pants become tighter at his elder's words of encouragement.

"feeling full?"

taehyung's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"i-" a burp interrupted him. he stayed quiet for a moment, hand covering his mouth, before he spoke up again. "excuse me, sorry."

he was blushing like mad. shameless taehyung who?

seokjin snorted. "guess that answers my question."

the slight teasing only increased the tightness of his pants, though he remained oblivious.

to say taehyung was full was a gross understatement. he'd passed the limitations for being full. he felt like if he moved even an inch he'd explode, literally. he looked 7 months pregnant.

"jin-hyung," he began with a taut hiccup, a slight whine to his voice. "i think... i think i ate too much."

and there it was, the rarer side of shameless taehyung. the one who needed affection after overdoing it, and wasn't afraid to beg for it.

"aw, you poor thing," his hyung cooed, helping the younger stand. his belly felt heavy and stuffed to the brim. "let's get you to the couch yeah? how's some hot chocolate sound? sound nice?"

taehyung nodded and hummed, blissed out from the tight fullness. he'd never felt this way from just eating before.

he took a seat on the couch as seokjin scurried off to make hot chocolate, and he used the opportunity to unbutton his pants. although he wasn't exactly too keen on being so unkempt in front of his love interest, his pants were digging into his bloated stomach something fierce. slowly, he undid the buttons and pulled down the zipper, freeing and allowing his tummy to rest atop. he sighed in relief, though it was short-lived when he noticed the slight bulge in his pants. well, that's new?

wait a minute--

oh fuck.

he frantically attempted to pull his sweater down to cover his lower region, but it was too snug around his plush middle to budge much. thankfully, it wasn't entirely noticable.

"here you go, taebear," seokjin said as he walked back into the small living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hand. one of them had tata all over it: you can guess whose it is. "careful, it's hot. let it cool before you drink it."

taehyung nodded bashfully in reply as the older of the two turned the tv on, switching the channel to some random drama taehyung had seen bits of but couldn't remember the name of. when jin sat down next to him, he immediately snuggled up to his side, head on his broad shoulder.

this. this was heaven right here.

seokjin smiled sweetly, arm wrapping around the younger. his fingers carded through taehyung's fluffy brown hair, earning a quiet sigh and pleased noises from the latter. taehyung's eyes fluttered shut as his scalp was scratched lightly.

soon enough, after finishing his hot chocolate, he felt himself grow drowsy. his belly felt warm and heavy, rising with every deep breath he took.

just as he had nearly dosed off, he felt something warm slip under his sweater and dance against his stomach. it felt like a hand.

he sighed. he must have been dreaming.

slowly, the palm of the hand traced over his swollen tummy, fingers ghosting over his navel. he all but purred at the feeling.

it began to rub circular motions onto the bloated skin with a gentle pressure, releasing a few soft burps from taehyung, who mewled at the lovely sensation. he began to fall deeper into slumber, the warm feeling being the last thing he could remember before he completely fell sound asleep.

when taehyung awoke, he was in his own room, in his own bed. he was under the blankets, glasses neatly placed on the bedside table. yawning, he looked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

had he been dreaming this whole time?

placing a hand on his middle, he was shocked to feel how bloated and round it was.

nope. it was all real.

and it felt completely, utterly, shamelessly good.

♡

☆

♡

"hey hobi-hyung, what's up?" taehyung spoke into the receiver of his phone after answering hoseok's call. he was currently working on an oil painting while munching on the oreos he'd bought at the campus snack venue on his way home.

"hey tae," he heard a strained voice answer. someone was in the background coughing. "could-" hoseok was cut off by what sounded like a particularly loud heave "ugh. could you do me a solid, tae. i'll pay you back, i promise."

and just like that, taehyung was on his way over to jungkook and hoseok's dorm. he'd debated bringing his painting with him, but eventually decided against the idea. he didn't want to make sick jungkook even sicker, nor did he want hoseok to complain about him stinking up the dorm with his paint.

the second he opened the door, hoseok rushed out.

"thanks a million, taehyung," he spoke frantically, clearly frazzled but trying to stay calm, though it was evident he was hanging on by a thread. "i hate to do this to you but you know how i am."

taehyung gave him a reassuring smile.

"hobi-hyung don't worry, it's alright! i don't mind!" he explained, placing a hand on his hyung's shoulder. "how's he doing?"

hoseok closed his eyes.

"ugh, he's just... ugh."

taehyung laughed and shook his head.

"aish, i told that dummy not to drink so much," he playfully face-palmed, giggling. "alright hyungie, head over to yoongi-hyung's. i'll take it from here."

hoseok sighed a breath of relief.

"you're a little saint, you know that, taetae?"

he pinched taehyung's full cheeks, kissing his forehead before rushing off. taehyung blushed and giggled to himself softly.

hoseok was really something else.

upon entering his friend's shared dorm and turning on the light, his eyes instantly landed on jungkook, who looked like he'd seen better days.

"taehyung?" he heard the younger croak from his bed, eyes squinted nearly shut. "shit, kill the lights will you, please?"

taehyung quickly flicked the switch off.

"oh, sorry kookie-ah," taehyung apologized, making his way in the dim room to the bed, where he sat.

"it's alright hyung, my head is just absolutely murdering me right now."

"feeling pretty bad, aren't we, bun?" taehyung murmured softly, rubbing the younger's back tenderly.

"god, 'm never fucking drinking again."

taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. he knew that was a lie; he'd probably be in the same position next weekend taking care of the hungover boy.

"okay, bun," he replied, fondly. "can i get you anything? painkillers, perhaps?"

jungkook shook his head, instantly wincing at the movement.

"no i already took some before you came." he answered. "could you just hold me for a bit, please?" his doe eyes found taehyung's gaze in the dark.

the elder boy swallowed back an 'awwww' as he laid down on the bed, taking the sick boy into his arms. he ran his fingers through the younger's silky, black hair. jungkook sighed.

"thanks, hyungie." jungkook mumbled into taehyung's warm chest. "you're the best."

a soft smile melted onto taehyung's lips. the two boys sat in a quiet trance for a while, the only sound being breathing and the hum of the ac. after some time had passed, jungkook broke the silence.

"um, hyungie?"

"what is it, bun?" taehyung replied, looking down at the boy.

"i-i um..." he began, stuttering from what taehyung assumed was nervousness. his stutter always worsened when he was nervous, the elder noticed. "i'm s-s-sorry about what i said yesterday."

taehyung haulted his movements, cocking a brow in confusion.

"what are you talking about, jungkook?"

"yes'therday," he paused to grimace at his lisp, before going on, "with hobi-hyung and yoongi-hyung." jungkook responded anxiously. "i-i shouldn't have c-commented on your body or how much you eat like that. if someone had made a comment about m-m-my stutter or lisp, i'd have been sad. it wasn't cool of me to point out an insecurity like that. i'm- i'm sorry." his voice broke a tad at the last part, though taehyung nearly didn't catch it.

taehyung blinked, taking a moment to process his dongsaeng's confession.

"okay, kookie, three things," taehyung replied after some thought, returning to stroking the boy's hair. "one: it's alright, don't worry about it. i'm definitely not upset with you, honey. two: your stutter and lisp are perfectly fine. they make you unique, make you you, so don't be embarrassed about how you talk, and don't take shit from absolutely anyone about it. got it?"

jungkook nodded, eyes still glassy.

taehyung smiled and continued.

"and three: what makes you think i'm insecure about my body?"

jungkook froze for a moment, clearly trying to conjure up an answer that wouldn't hurt his hyung's feelings.

"um..."

"is it because i'm chubby?"

jungkook didn't say anything, causing taehyung to sigh audibly.

"i have no reason to be insecure about my body, you know, jungkook?" taehyung calmly retorted, not in a mean or scolding manner, but in a blunt one. "i love my body. my tummy's job is to digest the food i eat and convert it to energy. that's it, and he's doing a pretty good job at it. so, therefore, i have no real reason to be insecure, and i'm not. a little tummy fat never hurt anyone."

jungkook looked up to gaze at his hyung.

"so, it didn't hurt your feelings when i t-touched your belly, then?" he asked, voice still slightly broken. taehyung wiped the stray tears from his dongsaeng's cheeks.

"of course not, kookie-ah," the older boy reassured, lips spreading into a grin. "in fact... i liked it."

jungkook went stiff.

"u-um... i-i'm flattered, hyung, i really am... b-but i like girls..."

taehyung let out a deep, rumbly laugh.

"don't be silly, bun!" he teased, still chuckling. "i wasn't talking about you! i wouldn't date your lame ass anyways, even if you did like guys!"

this earned him a playful slap.

"but you did... like it?" jungkook questioned after a comfortable silence.

taehyung nodded a bit stiffly.

"yeah, i... i guess i did." he admitted. "to be honest... i wouldn't mind if seokjin touched m- woah! sorry about the tmi! literally forget i said that, please. like, erase it from your memory."

taehyung flushed in embarrassment as jungkook burst out laughing.

"yah, don't make fun of me! i'll kick your ass you little shit!"

despite the teasing, taehyung definitely wouldn't mind if seokjin touched his belly. infact, he'd fucking love it.

and, well... this all was... new. he'd like to explore this more in the future.

however, little did taehyung know, he wasn't the only one with a bit of experimentation in mind.

♡

☆

♡

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

hi!! hope you enjoyed this!! maybe a part 2?? please let me know what you think!! love you!!

~ jelly ૮ᴖﻌᴖა

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

#bts feederism #feeder kink #eructo #bts emeto #fantasy feeder #feedist #bts sickfic #feeder series #feederisn

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hypnomicimagines · 3 years

Text

Alone Time [Werewolf!Yamada Ichiro]

(You guys can also have this as a treat... a nice 2am treat. afab reader but no pronouns used)

Ichiro’s tail swished nervously behind him as he fumbled around with the dishes, his mind on anything but doing the rest of his household chores. Part of it was caused by both Jiro and Saburo being away, he had made Saburo promise to call him once his class reached their destination, but the other part of it was because he had been bold enough to ask you to stay over. He had even made it known his brothers wouldn’t be present which you had giggled about but said nothing more on the topic, agreeing that it would be nice to have a night in together.

“Hi!” You’re happy to be greeted by the excited werewolf who quickly lifted you up into his arms, squeezing tightly as it had been quite some time since you’d seen each other. His hand lingered on your lower back for longer than normal, as though he didn’t want to pull away at all if he could help it, but the sensible side of him won out as he pointed to the kitchen.

“I’m cooking but you can relax if you want.” You noted that the living room was cleaner than it normally was, no soccer balls around though there was a vacuum positioned in the corner filled to the brim with wolf fur. Did their tails shed that much? Poor Ichiro, it must be an endless cycle having three wolves living under one roof.

“I’ll sit with you in the kitchen if you don’t mind. I like watching you be all domestic, it’s cute. Should we get a hairnet for your tail?”

“I’ve never had any issues with-” Ichiro noted the way you were smiling at him, “Oh, you’re just messing with me, huh? I’ll remember that.”

Dinner was served shortly after and you weren’t lying about liking domestic Ichiro, thinking it was quite sweet to see him making you a plate and putting it down in front of you before sitting across the table. He even took the dishes to clean them before you could offer to help, saying he had invited you over to take a break and that he didn’t expect you to lift a finger. Your insistence was a little stronger than his stubborn need to do it all so you ended up drying and putting the dishes away as he scrubbed, pleased when everything was said and done so you could both relax together.

You managed to make it through exactly one movie before you began to feel sleepy.

You stretched, yawned, and his response came quickly.

“Should we go lie down?” You knew his request didn’t have ulterior motives, at least not in the moment, because as soon as he realized what he said his mouth hung open like he didn’t believe he’d just said that. You gave him a knowing smirk but didn’t tease him out loud, knowing he was probably beating himself up over it now.

“Sure. Lead the way, casanova.”

Ichiro hopped up off the couch and nearly forgot his manners with how quickly he was trying to leave the situation, turning before you get up to offer his hand. You thank him and take his hand, noting it’s a little sweatier than it was when you were holding it before. His anxiety is palpable and your own nerves are starting to build, knowing there’s nothing technically stopping you from having your way with each other. You had thought about it, God knows you had thought about it, and though you can’t speak on Ichiro’s own naughty daydreams you were sure there was something running through his mind with how stiff he had been acting tonight.

“Let me borrow one of your shirts, won’t you?” His eyes widened at that and you heard a shocked noise that you weren’t quite sure came from Ichiro. He stared at you a moment longer with his flustered expression before he fully processed your request, heading over to the dresser and fumbling through until he found a long, comfortable shirt suitable for bedtime. You made sure to brush your hand over his as you took it from him, shooting him a coy smile and thanking him. You admit that you’re starting to feel eager yourself as you remove your clothing, slipping into the t-shirt—And only the t-shirt.

Ichiro’s distracted as you walk out of the bathroom, mid-changing as he hadn’t expected you to be so quick. You’re disappointed that he’s wearing pants but you’d never seen him shirtless before, eyes scanning his back and soaking in all the scars that were left there. There were big and small, healed to the best of their ability; werewolves had a supernatural healing element to them so the wounds that caused scars to grow were ones either gained in adolescence, when the healing factor was much slower, or the wounds were near fatal in nature thus taking longer to heal. Your footsteps are quiet but Ichiro’s ears twitch in your direction, whipping around to face you. His eyes are on your face for only a moment before dropping to your bare legs, noting that his shirt was a little long on you but still left plenty for him to admire.

“I didn’t mean to leave you shirtless! How will you keep warm now?” You grabbed the shirt out of his hand, tossing it in the direction of the dresser as he certainly wouldn’t need it tonight.

“But wolves don’t get cold- Oh…” Ichiro was so intelligent normally but it seemed his mind was elsewhere, all your come-ons causing him confusion until you gave him a look that said ‘think about that a bit more’. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, slowly leaving a trail of kisses anywhere he could reach, helped by you tilting your head to the side to give him more access to you.

You tried to muffle your groan as Ichiro’s sharp teeth grazed against your neck, him purposely repeating the action to see if it was just a fluke. When you give him the same type of response you feel him press closer to you, his tail beginning to sway again to show how he happy he was (though it was obvious he was trying to control it as well). You gently touched his chest after you pulled away from him, fingers grazing the scarred Chuuoku brand on his skin, something that made him look away. You’re worried that you’ve agitated him at first but he grabbed your wrist as you went to pull away, pressing your hand to his chest and looking into your eyes.

He was giving you permission.

Your finger traced over the brand on his chest again, feeling guilty that you were looking at it when there was the rest of his beautiful body to admire. It was hard not to think about the burning pain that had been inflicted on him, that each and every scar must hold a sad story behind how he’d received them. You knew he had been a bit of a punk when he was younger but that seemed to be the type of lives werewolves lived, especially the ones with no parents to guide or protect them. He hadn’t talked about his father much but there was a bitterness there, a betrayal that had wedged itself deeply into Ichiro’s heart and had been the reason behind him breaking up their pack to begin with.

It wasn’t time to worry about that now.

If anything, you wanted Ichiro to forget his worries, at least for now.

You crawled into the bed first, flashing him the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear as though he needed another reason to snuggle in beside you as soon as possible. You teasingly turn to face the wall but are pleased when Ichiro pulled you flush against him, his dick hot and hard on your ass. He’s trying not to rut his hips but it’s hard, just like him, and he’s restraining himself in fear of his strength accidentally hurting you. The plan had been to allow you to set the pace, to take control so that it’d be less likely an accident like that would happen, but it seemed useless now.

His attraction, his burning desire, it was too much for him to handle.

“I guess being tempting is just in your nature,” He whispered against your neck, hands running up your leg until they caught the end of his shirt; he lifted it up, slowly, slowly, until it was at your waist, leaving it there and going down to squeeze your hip. He’s started to move his hips in a steady rhythm that was turning him on more, thinking about how soft you felt against him. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh, is that right? You’ve met a fairy, right?”

“They have nothing on you.”

“Ooh, I’d be careful with that.” You turned your head to look at him, eyes taking a second to make out his face in the darkened room. “The fae don’t take kindly to being outdone. You might have put us both in danger.”

“I’d do anything to keep you safe.” Not normal bedroom talk but you’d be lying if that didn’t make your chest tingle, or perhaps that was just because his hands were now sliding up your stomach, cupping your chest but making no other moves just yet.

“Oh, my hero…!” Your teasing gets you everywhere, his hand rearranging itself so his fingers could gently pinch your nipple. You moaned quietly to show him that you appreciated what he was doing, arching back against him to temporarily stop his hips from moving. He’s breathing a little heavier now, which is why his next request isn’t a surprise.

“Turn around.”

His lips crashed against yours the second you did so, his hand on the back of your head as his tongue forced its way past your lips. He’s still a little clumsy when it comes to navigating such a passionate kiss but you can tell he’s putting his all into it, allowing you to explore his mouth as well; you couldn’t stop yourself from running your tongue over his canines, squeaking as it feels like you sliced your tongue though there’s no coppery taste to accompany the slight pain. He pulled away quick, a panicked look on his face as he opened his mouth to apologize.

“Shh…” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You don’t have to say sorry, baby. There’s something I want to do…but be careful of those fangs, alright?”

The only sound in the room is the shuffling of blankets as you pushed him onto his back, moving the blankets out of your way and stripping yourself of his shirt. He gets only a glance of your chest but you can tell he’s licking his lips at the thought of sucking on them, thinking he could have his way with them later when you were done with your request. You carefully positioned yourself over his, lowering cautiously as you didn’t want to totally smother him (at least not yet). Ichiro’s impatience is finally shining through and he throws caution out, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you down on his face.

Werewolves had been stereotyped as being voracious eaters and Ichiro wasn’t proving them wrong, the way his tongue was working you over being more than enough proof that he was one. You’re trying to keep yourself quiet despite knowing you don’t have to but that’s not good enough for Ichiro, no, he has to hear your voice full volume or he doesn’t believe he’s doing a good enough job. He teased your clit with his tongue, sucking, licking, going back and forth between the two as you grinded down on his face. He felt a certain thrill at how rough you were being now that you were close to the edge, being far less careful than you had before as you rode his face, desperate to come yet not really wanting the moment to end.

He would be sure to request this later, seeing how irresistible you acted when he ate you out.

You nearly pulled away from him before you came but he felt the muscles in your legs beginning to move, holding you down before you could take this delicacy away from him. You cried out his name as you came on his face, whimpering at the delicate licks he continued to give your clit as you came down from your orgasm. He could probably spend the entire night down there if you allowed him but there was another part of him you were hungry for, something that couldn’t be put off any longer.

You spend a second teasing his cock, licking up and down the vein on the underside of it as it seemed to drive him craziest. There was another stereotype about werewolves that was proven correct but you couldn’t think about it for too long, straddling his waist this time and sitting down on his length (but not allowing it to enter you). You’re slick as you moved back and forth, the head of his dick hitting your clit every time you moved forward, and you took pleasure in seeing the internal debate on Ichiro’s face. What would he do? Would he sit there and take it like a good boy, or would he let out that inner carnivore and show you who’s boss?

You’re pleased it’s the latter, legs spreading as the positions are reversed and you’re now underneath him. He lets out a growl that makes you bite your lip, his eyes on your chest once more before drifting up to your face. He leaned down to kiss you as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing himself inside of you and waiting an extra second before going deeper. He’s thick and burning hot but it feels too damn good for you to complain about it, your body growing used to the feeling of his thick cock inside you. You’re distracted by his mouth on your chest again, tongue expertly playing with your nipple; his one hand cupped the breast he was playing with while the other held onto your hip, helping him bring your hips to meet his as he thrusted.

The pace he set was rougher than you thought he was capable of yet it still felt good, you could feel his desperation for your touch leaking through. Your hand ran through his hair, tugging as you ordered him to slow it down as you would come to quick if he kept the pace up; he didn’t listen at first which meant finding another weak spot, your hand reaching down in the dark to squeeze his ass, rising up to touch the base of his tail. He let out a whimper at this but finally obeyed, showing he still had a little good boy left in him. You wanted to memorize the way it felt to have him inside you, to have him planting kisses all over your neck and chest, to hear his begging as he didn’t know how much longer he’d last going at this pace.

“Try not to break me in half,” You grinned at him but he didn’t process it, knowing he was given permission to pick the pace up once again.

You’re pressed into the bed as Ichiro fucked you hard and fast, desperate to snap that thread, to finally come after all the hard work he had done to make this a nice night. He deserved this, you think, he deserved to feel good and you were happy that you were the one to do it. If it wasn’t you he wouldn’t be satisfied, Ichiro knew that without the love he felt for you this would just be empty pleasure but his heart felt so full as his lips pressed against yours and he came with one last thrust.

“I love you…” He gasped out, face buried in your neck as he dropped some of his weight on top of you, just enough to create a pleasantly snug sensation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I love you too, Ichi, don’t get so worked up.” You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his ears in appreciation and trying not to laugh at the feeling of his tail wagging. “I love you so much it’s unbearable.”

“You think you have it bad, I’ve been thinking about sending my brothers out on a fake job just so we could be alone…” Ichiro sighed as he rolled off of you, knowing that the clean-up would be next but not quite finding the energy to move yet. “That would be bad, right?”

“…I mean, if they’re gonna follow in your footsteps you could at least call it training. Then it won’t feel like you’re lying.”

“…You’re right, that’s a way better idea.”

“That’s what I’m here for!”

“…Thank you for coming over tonight,” Ichiro’s voice is back to being a whisper, “We should get cleaned up.”

“Carry me to the bathroom, won’t you? I can’t guarantee my legs work right now.”

Ichiro laughed.

“Anything for you.”

#Yamada Ichiro #Ichiro Yamada #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Yamada Ichiro x Reader #Smut #Scenario #Supernatural AU

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angsty-omi · 3 years

Text

was she just a friend?

hajime iwaizumi x Reader

tw: very slight domestic abuse, insecurity, no happy ending, swearing, suggestive themes, and no editing prior.

when you first started dating hajime, you had accepted the fact that he had a really close girl friend. how could you not? before you guys made it official he made sure his concerns were met with. this should’ve been the first red flag, however, you were blinded by love.

at first, it was subtle. she’d tag along with you guys on your walk home, which you didn’t mind at all. most of the trips, she’d make fun of iwaizumi and reminisce when they were kids. which, in turn, made you laugh. a lot. and usually after she got home, you and iwaizumi could spend the sunset together. his large calloused hand would wrap around yours, and he’d bring your hand up to peck it. your heart grew bigger by the minute.

then, one day after she left, both of his hands gripped your jaw, and soft lips were pressed against yours. you smiled into the kiss and added more pressure. as he pulled away, you instinctively moved forward for more. that made him chuckle, and grabbed your chin once more. however, this kiss was more passionate. you could never forget that night. it was purely blissful.

for the next six months, life felt like paradise. there was a consistency of “i love you-s,” cuddles, and even sex. but, as they say, happiness is only temporary. on your sixth month anniversary, you and hajime had planned a fancy dinner date on the bay. you showed up early, with excitement written on your face. you were currently wearing a satin maroon dress with a black trench coat on top. as you sat at your table, you pulled out a box out of your pocket. it was a promise ring. you rubbed the circumference of it, trying to ease your nerves. was this moving too fast? you were certain that you couldn’t love another the way you love hajime.

as the hour strikes, he still hadn’t showed up. you repeatedly checked your watch, and even asked other people’s in case your time was wrong. you texted hajime multiple times with no response. anxiety started bubbling in your stomach. what if hajime’s hurt? what if he got into a car accident? what if a UFO came down and kidnapped him? you prayed to yourself that none of those things were true.

before you even realized it, another hour went by. and at this point the waiters were passively suggesting you to leave, due to their full house. at first, you were weary, what if hajime shows up? you thought. although, you complied with the waiters and left. you called him so many times with no pick up. before jumping to conclusions, you decided to text her.

y/n: hey, have you talked to hajime recently?

her: nope! but i can text him if you’d like!

y/n: sure

you rolled your eyes at her message, she acted like he’d answer her and not you. you were his girlfriend for god sakes. obviously if he could text someone it’d be you... atleast that’s what you thought before you got a notification.

her: oh he just said he’s at home, was there something you needed?

that text broke your heart. he’s at home? worst of all he texted her back and not you? you just left her on read and headed home.

as you slammed your phone on the bed, you got ready to sleep. slipping into one of hajime’s shirts and a pair of underwear you tuck yourself in. while drifting, you inhaled his shirt and it smelled like him. his cologne had a wood musk scent to it which you adored. and before you realized it, you were crying. crying yourself to sleep.

the next morning during school, you did everything in your power to ignore hajime. you skipped the lockers, lunch, and even prevented going to bathroom in case he was there. who could blame you? you were still upset after being stood up.

“miss y/n, could you grab these papers and send it to the office please?” your teacher asked.

you picked up the hefty amount of sheets and went on your merry way. with your guard down roaming the hallways, you failed to notice her and hajime at the end of it. as you both looked up from a long distance with eye contact, you simply turned around and took a detour. you could hear sneakers quickly catching up to you. it was hajime.

“hey baby i haven’t seen you all day,” he wrapped his arm around you.

you ignored him and continued looking straight ahead.

“hey are you okay?”

silence.

“y/n if you’re going to act like this and not tell me what’s going on, i’m going to go.” hajime said with a stern voice. you bit your lip, trying to hold tears back. you nudged yourself off of him and replied “fine.”

how could he be mad at you? and why’s he acting like nothing happened?

at the end of the school day, hajime was waiting at the gates for you. you caught sight of him and sighed. you couldn’t hold it off any longer. as you approached him, you saw her peeking out next to him. of course. with annoyance, you started walking home, with them behind you. the walk home was silent, excluding the loud footsteps trailing behind you. as soon as she turned for her house and a couple more steps, hajime grabbed your wrists and gently pinned you on the wall.

“tell me what’s wrong.”

immediately, tears start falling down your face.

“how could you forget about our sixth months?”

at this point, iwaizumi’s face turned pale. paler than a sheet of printer paper. he quickly kissed your tears, and rambled apologies.

“i can explain, that day hachi had some major family issues. her dad had just left the house to get drunk, and her mom was out of town. she needed me to come over, so i rushed.”

“so then, why didn’t you text me back?”

“what?”

“you heard me”

“i gave my phone to hachi because her dad broke hers.”

you gave a confused look. her phone wasn’t broken, she literally texted you and to think about it you never said her name aloud or in your thoughts.

“what? i literally texted her the night of and she said you texted her back saying you were home”

“hachi wouldn’t do that.”

did he just assume that you would lie? what reason would you even have to lie? you pulled up your phone and showed him the messages.

“this was probably a misunderstanding, are you sure your connection was good? some of them probably didn’t send so it looks bad” he casually said.

you were just in so much shock when he said that. how could he? why did he? your head started to feel stressed so you just walked away. not wanting to hear his idiotic excuses anymore. he trailed behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

“please don’t leave us on bad terms, i’m sorry i won’t do it again” you felt tears on the back of your school uniform.

“i guess it wouldn’t hurt to forget this one instance” you thought to yourself. so what did you do? you forgave him.

poor little naive girl.

after you guys made up, he decided to have a make up anniversary. you guys cuddled up on your bed and watched many sappy romance movies while ordering your favorite place. this was way better than an expensive dinner. you were just glad he was in your arms again and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

you got up from the bed with his arms dragging behind to go into your dresser, where you hid the box. as you were about to turn around and suprise him, his phone rang. who could be calling at this hour? you know who. hachi.

“don’t pick it up” you frowned.

“please babe just give me one second?” he pouted.

you nod in a agony. as he answered it, you could hear dramatic tears on the other end with a concerned hajime on the line.

“are you okay?! he did what?! i’m coming right now”

as he ended the call, he buckled his pants back on.

“you’re kidding right?”

you hid the tiny box behind your back.

“what are you talking about y/n?” he frustrated, clearly stressed out.

“this is our anniversary and you’re going over to see another girl?”

“y/n, she’s my best friend and you know that. plus she’s home alone and her dad just broke a window.”

“then can i come with you?”

he shook his head, “i don’t think she wants anyone to see her in that state right now”

“except for you, hm makes sense okay”

“can you please not be insecure for like one day?” his fingers ran through his hair.

your eyes widened, “are you fucking serious? you’re the one that made me insecure! first i dropped the whole dinner phone text thing even though there was obvious evidence hachi was trying to sabotage us, why can’t you see it?!”

“y/n, at the beginning of our relationship you acknowledged that i had a close girl friend. and with that, the dinner thing was just a misunderstanding. stop bringing that up or else.” he aggressed.

“are you seriously threatening me right now?”

“if you leave right now.. t-then we’re over!” the words just slipped out of your mouth. both of you guys were in shock. you were just so relentlessly depleted from this argument that you decided this was your solution.

he furiously opened the door, “hajime wai-” you were cut off by the door slamming shut. tears were flowing like a waterfall at this point. you gave yourself some time to breathe and reevaluate. you couldn’t lose hajime, he was your person. your light. your yellow. you put on your sneakers and ran to hachi’s house, knowing he’d be there. you grabbed the promise ring alongside so you could beg for forgiveness.

your breath was ragged, damn were you out of shape. but at the end, you got to your destination. as you analyzed the house, there seem to be no windows broken, but the front door was opened slightly. you knew she was lying from the start about her dad smashing things. you slowly walked in as quiet as possible and could hear sobs in the other room. as you pressed your ear to the door, it was hajime’s sobs. your heart felt so much guilt, sayings like “i love her so much” and “how could she just say that?” were the only phrases you could comprehend. then there was silence. as you opened the door, prepared to make up, you couldn’t believe your eyes. hachi and hajime’s face were about a half an inch away from each other. they both looked up at you.

“nice intact windows, take this stupid fucking ring, you’re dead to me iwaizumi” you chucked the box at him. as he looked at the box, it had been embroidered ‘promise’ on it and he knew what that meant. you quickly made your exit through the door with hajime closely behind you.

you stopped in your tracks, “please just leave me alone” your voice now dainty.

“y/n, plea-”

“please what? please forget about what i saw? i knew it i fucking knew it. you know what, this whole time you made me like the bad guy when it was YOU. you made me like this, and the worst part is I STILL LOVE YOU.” you punched jabs into his chest. obviously it didn’t hurt him physically, but emotionally it felt like a million swords were stabbing him repeatedly.

“please stop this, is there anyway you can forgive me? please?” he sobbed.

“i’ll do anything”

“would you leave hachi for me?” you asked sharply.

his hesitation was all you needed. in his head he answered yes, but it was like his vocal chords stopped working. deep in his heart, he knew you deserved better. so he stayed quiet.

“go to hell, go fuck hachi or something see if i care.” but you did care. you just wished that he fought just a little bit for you. but he never did and you had to accept it like a champ.

before this all happened, you had dreamed about iwaizumi hajime and yours’s future. but now it’s all ruined.

you’re left heartbroken and lost $350 on a ring that had no meaning.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizume x reader #haikyuu fluff

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softomi · 3 years

Text

crossing the threshold

prompt: our love is spread across years, even if for the majority was not spent together; I’ll make up for it forever

pairing: atsumu x reader

word count: 5.3k

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsume @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen

When Atsumu was sixteen, he met you. A little ten-year-old with cute chubby cheeks, it was during a time when he envied Suna for having a little sister. You had mistaken him for Osamu from behind and while thoroughly offended, he couldn’t dare to raise his voice to a young girl. Atsumu merely patted your head, he bent to your eye level and introduced himself sweetly.

“But you can call me Tsumu. Just remember.” Atsumu stood straight, striking a pose, “I’m the better looking twin okay?”

Innocently, you nodded, “Okay.”

You were absolutely starstruck by him from that point on. If you had to pick your first love, Miya Atsumu is the face that comes to your mind. Contrary to the childish antics that he may give off to his friends and onlookers, he was absolutely sweet to you.

He’d buy you ice cream, random trinkets, and even picked you up from school once when Rintarou got detention for sleeping in class. Atsumu was like a second older brother you wished Rintarou would be sometimes. Granted, you love your brother, but sometimes he lacked the certain caring aspect that Atsumu seemed to always give you.

“Do you like me better or your brother better?” Atsumu watched your childlike eyes light up.

The popsicle in your hand was melting and your legs swayed on the seat, the ringing of the convenience store’s door echoed into the air. You grinned, “Tsumu!” Your head falls forward into your popsicle, the hand that’s smacked the back of your head connected to your brother, “Rin! You’re so mean!”

“What did I tell you.” Rintarou looks down on you, “Don’t associate yourself with Atsumu. He’s a bad man.”

Atsumu grumbles, standing to his feet to point his popsicle at your brother, “Don’t brain wash her like that! Everyone knows I’m the better twin!” He screams into the night and you laugh.

At twelve years old, you’ve made a mental note in your head that one day you were going to marry Miya Atsumu. It was fate, you two were just meant to end up together; but at twelve years old, you experienced your first heart break. Miya Atsumu was eighteen and had a beautiful girl attached to his arm.

Unknowingly, you followed him when you saw him randomly on the street. When you entered the cafe, your heart broke upon seeing him embrace the pretty girl. He hadn’t even noticed you until he properly sat down next to her. His arm draped around her shoulder as he used his other hand to wave to you. As a heartbroken twelve-year-old, you ran out of the café shop.

“Do you know her?”

Atsumu’s arm falls slowly, “Yeah, she’s my friend’s sister. Not sure why she ran out like that. She absolutely adores me.”

All the way home, you ran, not even noticing that you had sprinted past your brother and Osamu. For the weekend you locked yourself in your room trying to quell the sadness of your heart. Atsumu was no longer the man you knew, he was no longer sweet or nice, he was a monster.

You stuck your tongue out at him, “Osamu is the better-looking twin. I want to take a picture with Osamu only!”

Osamu laughs, your hands wrapped around Osamu’s arm as you pull him to take a picture. Graduation day called for families to flood the school and once the ceremony ended, pictures were being taken by everyone. Your parents made you take over fifty pictures with your brother before the twins joined. Atsumu suggested a picture with his favorite little girl and you barked at him.

“You’ll take a picture with me right Samu?” You were practically hugging his arm, Atsumu glaring from behind the parents with cameras.

“Okay! My turn!” Atsumu squeezed through.

“No!” You clung to the grey-haired twin.

After much ruckus, it was concluded that you’d take a picture with all of the boys. Osamu to your right, Atsumu to your left and your brother standing tall behind you. While you leaned closer towards Osamu, your face was bright red, oddly aware of Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder as he poses with a smile.

Your mother hung the picture in the hallway. It stared at you for four years, you hadn’t seen him since he graduated.

Atsumu ran into you at his brother’s restaurant. His brother chatted with a young woman, the familiarity of the figure making him curious when he entered. In fact, when you finally turned to look at him, he almost choked on his own tongue.

“Look at you!” His hand falls on your head, “You’re so big now.”

You swat his hand away, “Don’t touch me, you’re going to ruin my hair.”

Atsumu laughs, pulling into the seat next to you, “How old are you now? Fourteen?”

“Sixteen!” You grit your teeth, “I see you still have the uglier hair.”

Atsumu leans his head back, “You’re still so mean!” He feigns a tear shed, “I remember when you used to adore me so much.”

“That was when you brain washed me.” You stuck your tongue out to him.

Atsumu stares, the amazed grin was glued to his face. It makes your cheeks tint and your heart picks up in pace, “So what are you doing here? Are you visiting me?!” Atsumu wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into an awkward hug, “Did you miss me?!”

Atsumu retracts his hands when someone smacks him from behind. You pull away with a deep hue on your cheeks, brushing your hand through your hair to refix the position. Rintarou stands behind Atsumu, effectively continuing to smack the man another time just for the fun of it.

“Bye Samu!” You’re waving to the male, turning to look at Atsumu briefly with a scowl, “Bye loser.”

Atsumu found you still adorable, attempting to pinch your cheeks and pulling away quickly when you try to bite him. Compared to when he had first met you, small and tiny in the kitchen of your home, now you were taller, hair grown out, and the school uniform fitted on you nicely. Even as you were leaving, Atsumu couldn’t help but turn and stare.

“Ow.” Atsumu rubs the back of his head, Osamu glaring down at him, “What.”

“She’s sixteen, you pervert.”

Atsumu groans, “I wasn’t thinking anything, you’re the pervert for even about thinking it.”

Another four years pass like that, at twenty for you, Atsumu is twenty-six. He finds it hard to believe that you were indeed you. The occasional social media post he saw of you from your brother’s feed definitely didn’t do you justice.

“Are you still as snarky?” Atsumu sits across from you.

The feel of the restaurant was one that he found oddly romantic, chandelier lights in a private room, he had specifically chosen a private area to not draw attention from fans. A table separated the two of you, the waitress hadn’t returned since bringing out the food, and there was the faint sound of classical music playing from the speakers above.

“I don’t know.” You slowly twirl the wine glass, not offering a glance to him, “Do you still have the ugly blonde hair.” You lift your eyes from the wine, a small grin on your lips, “Oh yeah, looks like you do. At least you learned what toner is.”

“Hey, be nice. I’m the one graciously paying for this meal.”

“You’re the one who begged me to come here and I was so close to getting treated to a meal by Kiyoomi.”

It hadn’t been long since you moved to the same city; ever since you visited his practice once with your brother, you had been contacting him non-stop to be invited to his practices and while your eyes were set on his teammate, he practically cock-blocked any chance he could get.

“You know he’s a clean freak.” Atsumu pokes at his food, “Omi doesn’t even accept gifts from his fans.”

Your eyes sparkled, a cheery grin on your lips, “That’s why he’s so perfect, so caring about his own health.” Atsumu frowned. You pulled out your phone, a giggle on your lips as you showcase your lock screen, “The last time I visited, he took a picture with me! Isn’t he so cute!”

Atsumu snatched your cell phone, causing a distressed sound to emit from your mouth, “Why would you put that as your background! What about the picture we took together?”

You grip your phone back, a sharp glare at him, “I like Omi!”

“My stats are better than his.” He randomly throws out into the air, but the way you stare at your phone has him irked, “You listening to me?”

You hum, “So what if your stats are better. Omi definitely has the better looks; do you think you could give me his number?”

Atsumu groans loudly, the knife in his hand nearly cracking the plate. His fork stabs the steak, before your mouth can spew any more about Kiyoomi, he’s shoving food into your mouth.

“Can you just eat now.” He grumbles.

Your hand covers your lips, slowly chewing the meat with a grin, “Sorry.”

Atsumu and you met more often than you had ever intended. There were many nights where he picked you up from work, many conversations over text, many times he would come over to your apartment to just hang out. He’d take over your couch, body sprawled out as he flipped through the television. You’d force him to stop at a volleyball match, opting to watch your brother play over any television series Atsumu could find.

It was quiet, the commentary from the game being the only sound of your apartment. You sat on the ground, back pressed against your couch, a bowl of popcorn sitting in your lap which you ate as though you were watching an action-packed movie. Atsumu laid on his side, an arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

His arm suddenly shifted and with a swift second, he withdrew. The sudden action caused you to jolt, looking over your shoulder at him questioningly. His face suddenly hit with a blush.

“What?”

Atsumu coughs, “it’s nothing.” Your eyes turn back to the screen but his mind races. Recalling the moment in which his hand accidentally brushed against your chest, while the fabric of your t-shirt concealed what was underneath, he knew well what it felt like when a woman lacked an undergarment.

He stared at his hand, his face growing redder the more he thought about the incident and he can only assume you were too engrossed into the game to notice. Atsumu feels as though he’s crossed a very awkward line.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” He excuses himself, locking himself into the room, hands aggressively trying to brush away the flush of his cheeks.

As he’s in the bathroom, he takes his time in trying to cool down. He’s trying to find some lotion, hands rummaging through the drawers until as he opens one, he spots the familiar brand of condoms, it’s ones that he’s used before. He blinks three times, an image of you tucked between bedsheets flashes in his mind, before harshly slamming the drawer. Hands flying to his face, and he couldn’t help but think how his luck had run out so fast.

“Tsumu?” You call from the living room, “Everything good in there?”

“Yep!” He answers, “Just looking for some lotion.”

“It’s in the last drawer.”

As he exits the bathroom, he watches you; everything suddenly was different. No longer were you the cute, innocent girl that was his friend’s sister. Perhaps there was another side of you that he just lost track of. Atsumu finds himself seated on the other end of you, legs tucked close to him while continuously eyeing you from the corner of his eyes. A blush creeps onto his face when you look back at him with a smile.

“Congratulations on your win!” You scream into your cell, completely unfazed at the way people in the convenience store looked at you, “See! I told you that you’d win! Tsumu you were so cool with your last serve.”

Atsumu chuckles, a sudden boastful feeling in his throat, “Even better than Omi right?!”

Your voice falls silent, “Your serve was alright.”

“You’re supposed to be supporting me!” Atsumu whines, “Where are you right now?”

“Right now?” You exit the convenience store, staring up at the neon sign, “I’m leaving the store right now.”

“The one by the post office or the one by the chicken restaurant?”

You continue to walk, “The chicken restaurant. Why?”

Arms wrap around your waist, a shriek comes from your mouth as your lifted into the air, spun around excitedly as you hear his laugh. When he sets you down, you turn, hand slapping against his chest. The dim streetlight focusing on you both.

“You should be celebrating with your team.” You look up at him, the excitement in his expression has him practically wanting to jump all over the place.

The grin plastered on him is the brightest you had ever seen. He wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you along the pathway to your home, “I already did, now we need to celebrate!”

He presses a harsh kiss on your cheek, your hand automatically wipes the sloppy kiss, “Disgusting. I’m letting you get away with that because you won your game today.”

Foolishness on his lips, he takes the bag from your hands, carrying it the rest of the way to your place where he promptly raids your kitchen of food and drinks.

In the middle of the night he remains the only one awake, your head fallen on his shoulder as you drifted to slumber. Atsumu feels a lump in his throat, the alcohol in his system tells him to hold you close. He takes in the scent of your hair, his fingers lifted to push aside the strands from your face, he quickly pulls back when you stir. He’s wide awake that night, staring at the ceiling while you slept soundly in your bedroom and he on your couch. Atsumu raises a hand to peer at his fingertips, the warmth of your hair still hot against his skin.

There was a fine line with how Atsumu was feeling and it felt uncomfortable for him to be staring at the line. If he moved passed that line, it could jeopardize his friendship with you, his friendship with your brother, and it was absolutley agonizing. But it was just as terrible being on the safe side pining over you.

“Seriously?” Osamu quirks a brow to him, he laughs, “No way.”

Atsumu groans, forehead pressed against the counter of his brother’s restaurant, “I’m serious. Is it wrong?”

Osamu nods, “Very.”

Atsumu frowns, a defeat on his face when he looks at Osamu, “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

Osamu perks, “Oh I’m sorry. Please, I’m sure Rintarou would love you to date his sister who’s six years younger than us and who we practically watched grow.”

Atsumu slumps back to his position face down on the counter, “I’m a terrible person.” Atsumu moans, “She’s so pretty, and funny, and she gets me.” Atsumu sits straight up, “Like yesterday, she came by my practice and brought me lunch!”

Osamu crosses his arms, “Didn’t she bring that for her precious Omi. I saw her instagram post.”

“But she gave me mine first!” Atsumu pulls his fingers into a fist, “So because I’m first, she likes me more!” Atsumu’s lips fall to a scowl, “Right?”

Atsumu declared that his main problem; all other problems aside, such as your brother. How could he know if you liked him if all you ever looked at was Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It wasn’t easy but he managed to get you a priority pass into the venue of his game. It wasn’t your first time in the arena but it would be the first you actually watched him play in person and not behind a screen. You were quick to find Osamu setting up his onigiri stand, a chuckle on his lips when he saw you.

“Weren’t you invited by Atsumu?”

You tug your hat, a blank expression in your eyes, “Yeah, why?”

Osamu whips out his phone, you strike a quick pose at the shutter of his camera. The pictures were sent in a quick text to his brother. And just to clickbait him, Osamu sends a sweet and short text to make sure his brother would open the images.

She looks so adorable in the MSBY Black Jackals merch.

Atsumu never opened a text so quick, and he’s never felt betrayal so fast before. The jersey you wore while identical to his from the front, the back displayed Sakusa’s name and jersey number. The hat you adorned was knitted with Sakusa’s number and the side of the hat you’ve written his name in white marker against the black cap, hearts drawn cutely before and after his name. To add salt to the wound, there was a clear picture of your phone case, you’ve switched it out from the cute peach phone case he got you to a Sakusa Kiyoomi phone case.

“I hate you so much.” Atsumu holds his phone with a harsh grip, staring at his teammate.

“What?” Sakusa answers.

The game ended in a roar, Atsumu’s heated head channeled into the ball caused quite a few victory points. At one point, he was thinking about accidentally serving a ball to the back of Sakusa’s head but that would only result in you caring for the man more. He could imagine you pushing him aside to tend to your precious Omi.

Many fans lingered once the game was over, Atsumu found himself surrounded by reporters but the corner of his eyes caught your figure walking past security and onto the main ground. His words drawing out as you skipped your way to Sakusa; the hat on your head pulled off as you asked him for an autograph on your hat.

“Hey!” Atsumu jogs to the two of you, his arm finding themselves on your shoulders.

“You did absolutely amazing Omi!” You brush Atsumu’s arm off and he frowns.

Sakusa puts a mask on, “Thank you.”

When he walks away, you’re still starstruck, the hat in your hand held tightly. Atsumu glares daggers into the back of his teammate’s head. The moment you turn to him, Atsumu is smiling.

“Look!” You’re shoving the hat into his face, “He signed my hat!”

Atsumu pretends to be excited, “Next thing you know, he’ll sign your shirt!”

You gasp, “Do you think he would? Wait.” You turn, attempting to run away from him, “I must go find him again.” You giggle when Atsumu catches your arm, pulling you back to him, “I guess the Miya Atsumu would do.”

He takes in your playful eyes, mischievousness on your lips, and the way your cheeks grow when you look at him. If he wasn’t so hopelessly in love, maybe he would have already kissed your lips.

“Want to take a picture?” Atsumu slips his hand to take your phone from your back pocket, a gesture making you smack his arm.

A small pout on his lips when he notices that your wallpaper is still one with Sakusa; but he recruits one of his other teammates to take a picture. Atsumu’s hands dance on your waist, pulling you into him, pressing his cheek against yours, practically trying to crush you into him, you’re laughing. He finds it adorable.

“I’ll wait for you.” You tell him as he leaves to the locker rooms.

You’re scrolling through your cell phone, the pictures on your phone grinning back at you. A slow smile emerges on your lips, Atsumu’s hands on your waist trying to hold you still even though you know he’s trying to tickle you. Your finger holds onto the photo, what follows is a short video of yours and his smile growing larger. Out of impulse, you set the image as your lock screen.

“Gotcha!”

You jump, head whipping back to find your brother staring down at you, “Gosh!” You hit him, “You’re so annoying. Go away!” You attempt to smack his leg but he retracts quickly.

Rintarou pokes the hat on your head, “Did your boyfriend sign the hat for you, is that why you’re so happy?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You speak up, “he’s the best player on the Black Jackals!” You stick your tongue out to him, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at practice or something.”

He points behind him, “Samu and I are going out to eat, thought I’d watch the end of the game. What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting for Tsumu. We were going to go out to eat too.”

“Great.” He narrows his eyes, “Let’s all go together then.”

For some reason, it was painfully awkward for Atsumu. Osamu found it painfully amusing and the Suna siblings shared one brain cell, focusing their attention on the food. The moment all four of you walked into the restaurant, Atsumu almost instinctively chose the seat next to you; the sudden awareness of your brother in the room had him switching seats rapidly.

“So.” Osamu began, “How come you don’t have a boyfriend yet?”

Atsumu begins to cough, a sheepish grin on your lips, Rintarou doesn’t pay attention to the question.

“I guess no guy has piqued my interest yet.” Your hand covers your mouth, attempting to chew and talk at the same time, “I’ve dated here and there but nothing serious yet.”

Osamu nods, “You’re still young, how old are you now?”

You swallow, “Twenty-one.”

Osamu puts a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, “Did you hear that Tsumu, twenty-one.” Atsumu tries drinking water to cease his coughing, “That means that we’re six years apart, right?”

Rintarou finally looks up, “Why are you so suddenly interested in our age difference?”

Atsumu coughs once more, “It’s not like age differences matter.”

Your brother’s actions stop, “Why would the age difference matter in this situation?”

Atsumu and Osamu cough, their food going down the wrong pipe at the same time. In that moment, you steal food from your brother’s plate, the action diverting his attention from the twins. Like siblings, you bicker with your brother as he steals from your plate this time.

The ride home was just as painful. You sat in the back seat, Osamu driving, Atsumu in the passenger side, and your brother with you in the back. The only sound coming from the radio and you kept yourself occupied with your cell phone; not a care in the world that there was some tension in the car.

“I’ll see you guys. Rin, make sure you remember next month is mom’s birthday. Let’s spit a gift.” You wave to the three boys before running off into your apartment building.

The air in the car suddenly thick. Rintarou sits up, hands placed on the shoulders of Atsumu’s seat, “The age difference joke.” Atsumu feels his soul leaving his body, “I’d prefer it if you lay off.” Rintarou slumps back into his seat, “But I don’t care, do as you see fit.” Atsumu looks at him through the passenger side mirror, “I don’t control your lives.”

Atsumu wonders if that was his friend’s way of giving his blessing.

“You still like me better than your brother, right?” Atsumu pokes at you from the seat on your couch.

You roll your eyes, “Will you be quiet if I say yes?” Atsumu nods, “Then yes mister clingy, I like you so much more than my brother.”

Atsumu grins, “How about Omi?”

You shoot him a glare, “You’re stretching it pretty far there.”

There’s a moment of silence before he lets out a deep sigh, one that you’ve suddenly grown accustomed to understanding that he wanted attention.

“You know what we never do?” Atsumu shuffles in his seat.

You look at him, “Is it be quiet?”

Atsumu pokes your cheek, “Nope.” He pulls away when you try to bite his finger, “We never talk about our past. We literally grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same school, knew the same people.”

“First off.” You’ve turned to fully look at him now, “We went to the same school but never attended at the same time and second, we know the same people because you’re friends with my brother.” Your shoulders shrugged, “You gotta admit, we didn’t get close until almost two years ago when you inserted yourself into my life.”

Atsumu grins happily, “Now you’re blessed with me.”

“More like cursed.” You swat his hand away when he tries to touch your nose.

“What about your first crush or love?” Atsumu tilts his head to you, “Mine was this girl I was dating when I was eighteen. Boy, I thought she was the cutest girl ever until she got extra clingy and jealous. I thought she was going to claw my eyes out.” Atsumu laughs, when he notices that you lack laughter, he pokes your sides, “You?”

“Mine?” Your eyes can’t meet his gaze, “It was you.” Atsumu freezes, perhaps his ears played a joke on him. Suddenly when you look into his eyes, your lips smile, “Yeah, I had the biggest crush on you when I was ten. Isn’t that funny?”

But he doesn’t laugh, his hands cover his face to hide the blush, “That’s so cute.” Atsumu pinches your cheek, “Little you had a crush on me?” You smother a pillow into his face, but it doesn’t drown out his sounds, “It’s absolutely precious!”

“Shut up!” You screech.

He pulls the pillow away, he’s laid out on the couch now, your legs positioned on either side of his hips and with the removal of the pillow in his face, his hands grasp your wrists, the sudden realization that you were straddling him had heat coming out of his ears.

“Sorry.” You pull away. Atsumu shrinks to the opposite side of the couch, face hot as you get up, “I’m gonna order us some food.” Your arm covers your face, trying to hide the heat that’s rushed to your cheeks.

“That’s different.” Osamu notices your phone case, “Wasn’t it a Sakusa one before?”

You lift your phone, “Yeah, my other phone case got dirty and I saw an Atsumu one. The Sakusa ones were sold out so I just thought why not.”

“Interesting.” When he states that you shrug, moving along to find your seat in the arena. Osamu peers over the side of his cart, staring at the overabundance of Sakusa Kiyoomi phone cases in the stall next to him. Osamu merely laughs, “They’re so stupid.”

Atsumu finds himself once again surrounded by reporters, his hands wave signaling that they could talk to anyone else but him, even pushing his other teammate to the reporters.

“Excuse me, can I have your autograph?”

Atsumu tries to smile politely, “Sorry, maybe next time.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll just go find Omi.” Atsumu does a doubletake, his lips spread into a fine grin.

His arms pulling you into a hug, you repress trying to let out a sound of disgust when you realize he’s all sweaty, “What are you doing here?” Atsumu’s fingers run through a strand of your hair, “I thought you were working?”

“I was and then suddenly.” You folded your hands into a fist, coughing into it slowly with a mischievous smile, “I got sick.”

Atsumu uses a finger to push your head back, “You shouldn’t be lying at work.”

Your eyes quickly dart to behind him, “Quick! There’s Omi!” You grab Atsumu’s arm, “Can you take a picture of me and him please!”

It took a little convincing and some rules, but Sakusa complied to the photo. Atsumu grips your phone, an eerie grin on him as he sees that Sakusa places a hand onto the small of your back. But as Atsumu turns on your phone, the happy picture of the two of you washes over him. As he tries to swipe to go to the camera, the picture plays into a short video and for a second, he feels love wash over him.

“Tsumu!” Your voice wakes him from his thought. He’s quick to take pictures and you skip to him after thanking Sakusa for the pictures. Your lips fall into a scowl, “Tsumu! They’re all blurry!”

Atsumu is walking away from you, he shrugs his shoulders as he heads to the locker rooms, “I guess I don’t have a steady hand.” He’s laughing as you yell at him.

Atsumu finds himself slowly walking, he sees you leaning against a pillar, cell phone in your hand, just waiting for him. He finds himself wanting to admire you for a little bit longer, he wants to run his fingers through your hair and most importantly, he wants to feel what it would be like to kiss you.

“Were you slow motion walking here or something?” You laugh.

But Atsumu doesn’t feel like laughing right now, he feels like he wants you; more than anything he’s ever wanted before. The look in his eyes change as he’s suddenly rubbing a thumb over your cheek.

“If I’m crossing a line.” Atsumu’s eyes dart to your lips, “Just tell me to stop.”

He’s leaning down, your back pressed against the pillar. One of his hands rests on your hip the other still a caressing your cheek. He lets himself pause before your lips; eyes deeply lost in yours before he takes the dive. He’s absolutely immersed in you, your arms bring him deeper in and he’s euphoric. He dips in, pushing your head back to bump against the pillar. You let out a groan, pushing his arms away as your hand flies to the back of your head.

You chuckle, “A little too eager there.”

“Sorry.” Atsumu bites his lower lip, the seconds ago just barely registering in his head, “Was that alright?”

“Do you want some kind of grade?” You purse your lips, “Maybe a B+.” You tease but Atsumu pouts. Your fingers tug on his jacket, palms against his cheeks to pull him down, pressing a quick peck to his lips, “Does that answer your question?”

Your footsteps begin to walk away from him. You look at him from over your shoulder; he still seemed stunned, but the way you moved drew him in.

“If you’re going to just stand there, I might just go ahead and find Omi.”

Like a puppy, he runs to you; hands reaching out to you as you begin to scamper through the hall. A delighted squeal leaves your mouth when he catches up, arms encasing you in a hug; he’s pressing a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“So, we’re just supposed to get used to this now?” Osamu watches Atsumu throw an arm around your shoulders, his brother sticking his tongue out childishly, “What are you so smug about, you spent practically two years pining over her.”

Rintarou sighs, suddenly feeling uneasy about the situation, “I thought you knew better. I told you to not associate yourself with Atsumu.”

Your fingers interlock with Atsumu’s, the siblings in front of the two of you continue to yammer but their voices are drowned out with Atsumu pressing his lips against your hair. He feels the need to draw his seat closer to you, and your brother scowls.

Atsumu lets go of you with a shriek, the hot soup spilled onto his pants.

“Rin!” You shout.

“He crossed the line.”

Your brother hogs the napkins, Osamu laughs loudly, and you watch your boyfriend scream in agony. You roll your eyes at your brother, after all, you were still his little sister and he can’t just have anyone trying to make a move on you.

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #atsumu #atsumu miya

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