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dawnwriterimagines · 2 months

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The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

#simon riley angst x reader #cod angst #tw torture #tw angst #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost angst #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty

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meiieiri · 7 months

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𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

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pellucid-constellations · 2 months

Text

Trial and Error (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Illness, Azriel's pov 👀

a/n: Someone sedate me at this point. Also I'm posting this earlier than planned because I am susceptible to peer pressure

Read part one | part two | part three | part five

Main Masterlist ♡

Azriel sat at the table for breakfast, his attention occupied by the window to his right. A plate of eggs, bacon, and toasted bread sat forgotten and untouched before him. To be honest, Azriel was unsure of how it even came to be in front of him.

Cassian was saying something, the rest of the table humoring him with sleepy mumbles and raised brows. He was always so lively in the mornings, a sentiment not shared by the rest of the inner circle.

Azriel was typically one of the more responsive people, but his shadow was late today. It had been a few weeks of sending one out to check on you every night, and this one was late. The rest of them swarmed around his feet in anticipation.

“Az?” Mor’s voice had him breaking his stare from the window. “What are you looking at? You’ve been checked out all breakfast.”

Azriel cleared his throat and readjusted in his seat. “Nothing. Just distracted.”

She snorted. “That’s an understatement. You’re been distracted for weeks now. What’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Azriel repeated. He picked up his fork despite his stomach protesting, the nerves twisting it to the point of unease.

“Hate to concur, Az, but you have been rather absent. I think this is the first time you’ve had a meal with us this week,” Rhysand chimed in.

From beside him, Feyre shot her mate a look.

Azriel, feeling eyes on him, glanced to his left to find Cassian leering at him with narrowed eyes. His brother leaned his head back and hooked his arm over the back of his chair, analyzing Azriel amidst his lax posture.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “What?”

With his tongue pressed into his cheek, Cassian let out a disbelieving huff. “You’re seeing someone,” he concluded. “Who is she? Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I’m not seeing anyone. Why would you come to that conclusion?”

“You answered that way too quickly to be believable.”

“Azriel, are you seeing someone? There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that,” came Mor’s soft tone—trying to play the opposite side of the coin.

“No, I—“

“He is. I know he is.” Cassian, with his assured pestering. “And don’t think I don’t notice how Rhys is being silent here. And Feyre. The only two people in the room that can read minds.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Feyre defended.

“Yeah!” Nyx yelled, quick to defend his mother. “Nothing!”

But Nyx’s interference only made Cassian turn his attention to the small child and knock his head to the side.

“Nyx—“ Cassian began. In response, Nyx shoved a fork full of eggs into his mouth. “Azriel’s been taking you to school an awful lot, hasn’t he?”

“Mmhmm,” Nyx nodded.

“And he’s been going to all of your school events?”

Nyx nodded again, this time with a mouthful of juice.

“Does Azriel talk to anyone when he’s at your school?”

“He talks to Ms. Fern.”

Cassian let out a barking laugh and turned back to Azriel with a wide grin. “Ms. Fern? Okay, Az, if that’s what does it for you. You should bring her to the house.”

Although he felt an immense pride for Nyx keeping his secret (because Nyx had seen him talking to you countless times) a strange, hot anger licked at the bond hanging loose in his chest.

He wasn’t seeing Ms. Fern. The reasonable part of his mind told him that it was better this way, you would feel safer, but the unreasonable side wanted to knock Cassian across the room.

You were so much better than Ms. Fern. The teacher didn’t “do it for him” and never would. It was insulting to you.

Azriel ground his teeth. He knew this reaction was more borne from the fact his shadow hadn’t returned and the worry he was feeling was paralyzing, but reasoning with himself did nothing.

“I will not be—“

Sick, sad, help.

A whisper at his ear made Azriel rein in his words.

Alone, alone, alone.

Azriel snapped his head to the side to find his missing shadow whisking down to join the rest, the hoard of them now rising to leave. To get to you, he realized. He had to—

“What is it?” Rhysand asked.

Azriel could feel his talons scratch along the barrier of his mind, but there was no time to let Rhysand hear what he’d heard. In one fluid motion, Azriel was up from the table and out of the house, his wings spread wide behind him as he flew to the outskirts of Velaris where you resided.

One of the first things he would suggest after he got you to trust him was for you to move.

He’d already reinforced your locks and checked your neighbors, but you were still so far and that side of Velaris wasn’t the best.

He’d ask you to move into the House of Wind, but he knew that’d be pushing it. Obviously.

His back ached as he pressed his wings further, desperate to make it to you. He flung his body one way and then the other to dodge buildings as he went, flying low to save time. Luckily, the streets were barren this early.

But it wasn’t early enough for your shop to be closed, an all too alarming fact when faced with the “closed” sign on the front door. He yanked on the knob anyways, but the door wouldn’t budge.

He cursed himself for ensuring their stability.

He started knocking next—soft at first and then with a blistering urgency. He knocked and knocked and was moments away from flying up to your window and possibly scaring you off for good when the door wrenched open.

You looked beyond disheveled, bone-tired, and frankly gaunt as you stared up at him with an incredulous gaze. Your gaze softened a fraction when you saw it was Azriel beating down your door, but a tinge of irritation remained hazing your eyes.

“Azriel, we’re closed for—”

“Are you okay?” he rushed out.

Since the open house, Azriel had been more open with his vies to take care of you. If he were being honest, the intrinsic need to protect you and Melanie was overwhelming and he was barely scratching the surface of all he wanted to do, but you became guarded any time he got too intense. So, he walked you home and asked you about your family and he didn’t care if he got a stonewall in response.

But right now, you did not look well.

Right now, there was no Melanie peaking behind your legs as you stood at the apothecary door.

So, right now, Azriel didn’t have a mind to be subtle.

“Where is Melanie? Are you hurt?” he asked before you could formulate a response.

He watched your knuckles pale as you gripped the door. You breathed in deeply. “Mel has been sick all night. I’m not sure what it is and I’ve been trying everything. I’m about two seconds away from calling a healer but…”

Azriel knew that tell—the way your eyes shifted and your expression pinched.

More people.

Anytime you were confronted with introducing more people into Melanie’s life, you crumbled.

“Let me come see her,” Azriel requested, the tension leaking from his voice into a softer tone. Now that he knew the two of you weren’t dying, there was some relief. Some.

You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you deflated. “I don’t want to get you sick. I think I'm already a lost cause, but you—you have important things to do.”

If only you knew how important you were to him.

Azriel felt his fists clench at the defeated look in your eye. “If you’re sick, you can’t take care of her. Just let me come in. Let me help, y/n.”

“Azriel…”

“Please. Let me take care of you.”

He wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, afraid of you drawing back in fear, but they were already lingering in the space between you. Azriel decided you must have been truly exhausted because your only reply was a pained sigh followed by your door swinging open to let him in.

You didn’t even send him a sidelong glance.

Azirel’s hand twitched as he followed you up the stairs to your apartment, the urge to press his fingers along your back stifling.

One step at a time, Azriel—you were only just letting him into your house.

Any examination of your apartment abruptly halted as soon as his feet met the threshold of the sitting room. Melanie was lying on the couch looking worse for wear with a cloth along her forehead and a flush to her cheeks that did not sit well with the Shadowsinger. His chest caved in at the sight, a feeling that intensified when her small voice filled the space.

“Mr. Azriel?” she croaked, attempting to lift her head. You rushed over to press her back down, running your fingers through her hair. “He’s always at my house,” Melanie said, turning to look at you. “Always.”

You let out a breathy laugh as Melanie shut her eyes and began to softly snore against the arm of the loveseat. Azriel’s shadows rushed to the girl and brushed against her forehead and arms, offering the cool wind they provided.

In a few steps, Azriel took a knee beside you. He looked at you first—at the way you hovered over your daughter with furrowed brows—and then let his gaze wash over Melanie. Against his better judgment, he wrapped his scarred fingers around her tiny hands.

No poison, his shadows reported, although he didn’t expect it to be. She was feverish, hadn’t eaten since last night, couldn’t keep anything down; it was rare for fae to get so sick, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t concerning.

Even more worrisome was the fever emanating from you. Azriel could feel the heat on his shoulder and he could tell you hadn’t stopped to rest.

“I know a healer that can help. She wouldn’t say anything to anyone,” Azriel said after a beat of silence.

You paused your fingers in Melanie’s hair. “Do you promise?”

The sickness had worn you down, taking the fight and fear right out of you.

“I promise on everything. I wouldn’t bring someone here that wasn’t safe.”

Azriel called Majda.

Majda arrived in a few minutes, much to your surprise. Azriel had gotten the door upon her knock, his eyes catching the way your knees shook as you went to stand.

Majda kneeled in front of the couch where you and Azriel once were, her healing magic lighting up the room. Behind her, Azriel stood with you and he watched.

He watched your worried brow and the way you picked at your fingers. He watched the flush on your face get worse and worse as your daughter’s illness gradually got you sicker. He watched the way you tracked each of Majda’s movements, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.

He watched your body shake as it held you up.

He watched his mate and saw how alone you were.

Azriel reached up and tucked a hair behind your pointed ear, using the ploy to feel for the temperature on your cheek. You turned to look up at him and he felt the way his expression strained.

“You should let her look at you too,” he said, voice low and calm.

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

You turned back to your daughter, looking on.

Azriel no longer cared for the farce he’d been putting on. He stepped closer and let his palm rest on the small of your back if only to support you from collapsing. He saw you glance at him from the corner of your eye, but you made no move to step away.

It took Majda 13 minutes to come to a conclusion. Azriel knew that because he had been counting.

“Well, first of all, she will be okay. As will you, as I see you may have the same illness,” the older healer spoke, rising from the ground with a grunt. “It is most unusual—what ails you. Do you have Autumn's blood?”

The fingers you had pressed to your mouth were abruptly dropped. You looked up to Azriel with panic in your eyes, a question clear in your expression.

He hadn’t known where you were from, but he had guessed, and you were looking at him as if he knew—as if he knew and you wanted to know if it was safe for the healer to know as well.

Azriel nodded his head and ignored the bittersweet feeling in his chest.

He had wanted you to tell him when you were ready.

“Yes,” you uttered, shaking your head much faster than you spoke. “We both are. Is that—does that have something to do with it?”

Majda offered you a thin smile. “You have Autumn fever. Something to do with the fire that lingers in your blood. Sometimes it does not align with the other courts and your body revolts. It will pass in a few days as most. Uncomfortable bugger to be sure, but nothing that cannot be managed.”

You sagged against Azriel in relief, the shadowsinger catching your weight as your knees buckled. He pulled you closer to his front but didn’t feel complete until he guided you back to the couch and leaned over Melanie as she slept.

“She’ll be okay?” you asked.

Azriel thought the question was for Majda, but when he looked to his side you were staring directly at him, fear and fever in your gaze.

He lost his breath and captured your face in his hands. “She’ll be okay,” he assured. You were so hot against his skin. “You will too. I’ll fix it.”

Something righted in your expression—something softened. For the first time since he entered your house, you let out a full breath and allowed your eyelids to drop. It was barely thirty seconds before your head fell as well, your forehead landing on Azriel’s collarbone. He trailed his hand up to rest against your hair and placed his other on Melanie’s knee as he stayed beside the couch.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Shadowsinger,” Majda crooned. “That’s a whole lot of responsibility. A lot of secrets.”

Azriel tightened his hold on you. “Do you have herbs that would help? To lessen fever or pain?”

Majda hummed. “I will leave a few.” A pause. The floorboards creaked as Majda went to make her exit. “Heed my words, Azriel.”

“I know what I’m doing—what I’m getting myself into.” He dropped his nose to your temple, listening to your breath as you slept. His shadows continued their mission of cooling Melanie’s feverish skin.

“Do you?”

Azriel considered the question, and no, he didn’t know.

But he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

part five

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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confessedlyfannish · 1 year

Text

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

#Danny I AM RETIRED FROM MURDER Fenton #the informants are ghosts #the thing about deductive reasoning is sometimes you deduct incorrectly #particularly when you don't know about the ghosts #danyal al ghul #damian wayne #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #bruce wayne #this is an au where damian doesn't get blown up and lose most of his vital organs #like bruce still isn't a super responsible parent but no nine year olds blow up so that's something #danny: he only blew up once so he can stay with you #batman: he did get speared straight through but we fixed it #danny: he wHAT #i wrote this instead of eating dinner #because drafts are for the mentally healthy #tbh i don't think his name would be danyal al ghul in this one #he's trying really hard to stay under the radar I don't think he would choose essentially a homonym

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waitimcomingtoo · 10 months

Text

A Film By Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter gets back into making little videos once the two of you start hanging out

warning: extreme 2017 homecoming era nostalgia

Masterlist

Of course he went for Liz.

Liz was the ingénue. She was perfect in every possible way. Perfect grades, perfect face, and the perfect boy pining after her. You’d been crushing on Peter since the third grade but with Liz around, he never noticed you.

But Liz was gone now. She had moved to Oregon following her dad’s arrest and taken Peter’s feelings for her with her. Now that she was gone, you decided it was time to stop pining after Peter from afar and start pining from up close. And so, when you walked into the cafeteria that day, you didn’t sit at the end of the table like you usually did.

“Oh, hey.” Peter smiled in surprise when you sat down next to him. Smiling was good. Smiling meant he wasn’t creeped out by you sitting so close. You gulped before giving him best smile back.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, making Peter give him a look. You immediately regretted your decision and wished you’d just stayed in your usual spot.

“What do you mean? She always sits with us.” Peter pointed out.

“No, she always sits down there. She’s never actually sat with us before.” Ned replied and gestured to the end of the lunch table.

“Yes, but I’m sitting here today because I needed Peters help with the chemistry homework.” You said and put your chemistry notebook on the table. You knew you couldn’t just randomly sit with them without a reason, so you came prepared.

“Oh, for Mr. Eddie’s class? It’s easy. I’ll show you my notes.” Peter’s offered with a smile. You returned the smile as he pulled out his own notebook. It was a win/win for you since you actually needed help with the homework and it would start a conversation with Peter. While he was explaining the problem to you, you never once looked down at the notebook. You were too focused on the curve of Peter’s suspiciously long eyelashes, the longest you’d ever seen on a boy. Ned noticed the way you were staring his his best friend and frowned a little.

“Does that make sense?” Peter’s asked when he was done explaining.

“Yeah, it does. Wow, thanks Peter. It sounds so easy the way you explain it. I wish this stuff came as naturally to me as it does for you. You’re so smart.” You said as if you had listened to a single word he had said.

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m really not that smart. I just like chemistry.” He replied as he blushed from the compliment.

“Oh, come on. You’re the smartest guy I know. You’re the only one that answers questions in that class. And you always get them right. When Mr. Eddie asks if anyone has any questions, I don’t raise my hand because I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.”

“That’s I feel in English. I can barely make it through the first line in a poem and you’re already going back and forth with Ms. Teague about Pindaric odes or whatever they’re called.”

“You listen to when I talk in English?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Of course I do.” Peter shrugged. “I always find the reading boring until you raise your hand and talk about how you interpreted it. You make it interesting.”

“I liked that book we read when the kids ate the other kids.” Ned said and interrupted the moment. Your smile dropped as you and Peter looked at him with disgust.

“The one with the flies-“

“We know.” Peter cut him off.

“Anyways, thank you for helping me with the homework. I’ve been stuck on it all week.” You said to Peter.

“Ugh. That’s been me with my paper for Mrs. Teagues class. And it’s due tomorrow.” Peter groaned.

“Oh, the analysis essay? I could help you with that.” You offered.

“Really? You’d help me?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. I already wrote mine. It would be no problem.”

Ned was watching this back and forth conversation for a while until it clicked it in head. He gasped and slapped the table, making you and Peter look at him.

“Oh my God.” Ned said. “That’s why you’re sitting here. You have a-“

“Can I talk to you for a second, Ned?” You quickly cut him off when you realized where that sentence was going. Before Ned could even answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him outside the cafeteria to talk in private.

“You like Peter!” Ned whispered harshly. You clamped your hand over his mouth and pushed him up against the wall.

“You need to keep your mouth shut.” You hissed. “Yes, I like Peter, okay? I’ve had a crush on Peter since middle school. He never noticed me when Liz was around but now that she’s in Oregon, I might finally have my chance. I don’t want to scare him off so just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this.”

You took your hand off Ned’s mouth and he started to gasp for air.

“Oh, please. Your nose wasn’t covered. You could breathe just fine.” You said with a roll of your eyes. Ned stopped pretended and straightened up.

“So you actually like Peter? For his personality?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Ned admitted.

“I like everything about him. And I’m gonna tell him that. Just please, don’t say anything before I do. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“Are you going to cast a love spell on him using a lock of his hair?” Ned whispered to you.

“What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because you’re a witch.” Ned said like it was obvious.

“I’m not a witch.” You groaned. “I just accidentally cackled that one time but it was only because I had phlegm in my throat.”

“Then about that time on the bus?”

“We’ve been over this. It was just a coincidence that that biker fell off his bike after I gestured with my hand. I didn’t move him with my mind.”

“And that one time in physics?” Ned narrowed his eyes.

“I still don’t know how that guys shirt caught on fire.” You shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me.”

“It caught on fire after he made fun of you for being a witch.” Ned pointed out.

“Maybe he was just standing too close to the flame.” You shrugged.

“He was standing in the doorway. There was no flame.” Ned reminded you.

“The magic of science.” You shrugged again.

“But what about that time-“

“Don’t bring up the nosebleed.” You whined.

“I am gonna bring up the nosebleed.” Ned hissed. “In sixth grade, our Spanish teacher got a nosebleed right after he told you to stop staring out the window and made everyone laugh at you. How do you explain that?”

“You’ve made your point, okay? Now are you gonna tell Peter or not?”

“Look, I’m not gonna expose your gross secret feelings, as gross and secret as they may be.” Ned sighed. “But Peter is still my best friend so I have to look out for him. I don’t want any spells cast on him.”

“That’s fine. There will not be any spells.” You held your your hands in defense. Just then, Flash walked by and laughed when he saw the two of you talking.

“Woah. What is this, the friendless loser convention?” Flash snorted.

“Shut up.” You snapped. Flash immediately tripped over his feet and fell to the ground, making Ned look at you with wide eyes.

“Witch!” He whispered harshly as he pointed a finger at you.

“Shut up. Let’s go back inside.” You rolled your eyes and pulled Ned back into the cafeteria.

Later that day, you met up with Peter in the library to go over your assignments. You started with his English essay and finished that within an hour before moving on to your chemistry homework.

“You can plug the numbers into your formula now using the method I taught you. And then you just solve for x.” Peter explained as you worked out a problem together.

“Hm. You make it sound so simple.” You sighed and leaned on your hand. Peter saw the way you were staring at him in his peripheral vision and felt his face heat up.

“It’s, uh, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I never liked the way Mr. Eddie taught it. I figured this out myself and it’s worked much better for me.”

“Thanks for helping me. You’re a good teacher.” You said and put your hand on his arm. Peter laughed shyly at the contact and cleared his throat.

“Thanks. And so are you. That was the best essay I’ve ever produced. I honestly worry she won’t believe I wrote it.”

“Well if she says anything, I can vouch for you. You put in good work on this essay. You deserve the credit.” You assured him, making Peter blush all over again. It occurred to Peter that he never realized how pretty you were. You’d been classmates since 3rd grade so he always looked at you as just another girl in his class. Now that you had his full attention, he didn’t feel like looking away.

“Thanks. I appreciate you helping me write it. I know it can be frustrating to work with me because of my dyslexia.”

“It’s no problem. And it wasn’t frustrating at all.” You shrugged. Peter smiled at felt better about how long it took him to write the essay.

“Thanks.” He said. You had successfully gotten him to spend time with you one on one but now you needed to commence the next phase in your plan which was to hang out in a non school related setting.

“Would you ever want to hang out socially?” You blurted.

“Like, and not do homework?” He asked. You nodded your head and he smiled before nodding as well.

“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”

“Cool. Me too.” You smiled. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but it worked nonetheless.

“Does this weekend work?” He asked you.

“Yeah. What do you want to do?”

Hard cut to that weekend. You were on the subway with Peter and he had his phone out to record himself.

“Firts social hang out with a girl. A film by Peter Parker.” He said in a low voice before flipping the camera to face you.

“Staring me.” You smiled and waved to the camera.

“Are you sure you’re cool with me filming this?” Peter asked as he flipped the camera back to himself.

“Yeah, of course. The other ones you showed me were so cute. But why did it seem like there were so many missing parts? You were always talking about something cool that I didn’t get to see.”

“Uhhh, no reason.” Peter said and looked to the side. He had skillfully edited out any incriminating superhero activity that you were not ready to see yet.

“Well I like it. I feel like I’m on Modern Family.” You said and posed for the camera.

“Which family member would you be?” Peter laughed and zoomed in on you. With his phone blocking his face, he could shamelessly admire your face on his screen.

“Duh. Lily.”

“I can so see that.” He chuckled. The subway lurched suddenly and you both grabbed onto the pole, coincidentally putting your hands in top of each others.

“Oh, sorry. Our hands touched.” You laughed shyly.

“Oh my God. So romantic.” Peter joked, making you blush and look into his camera.

“Stop it.” You laughed and covered his phone with your hand. He laughed as well and put his phone away.

After learn you had never been, Peter decided to the Lego Store. He’d been hyping it up to you all week over text and now that it was finally happening, he hoped it impressed you. You walked in together and Peter heard you gasp.

“Big Lego Aladdin.” You gasped and ran to stand under the giant magic carpet and Aladdin made of Legos.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that string of words come out of someone’s mouth.” Peter laughed and went to stand under it with you. You looked over at him and were surprised to see he was already looking at you.

“This is even better than you described it. You need to show me everything.” You said and excitedly shook his arm.

“I can do that.” He blushed and nodded his head towards some of the sets.

Peter took out his phone to film you as you looked at everything in the store. The way you were looking around like a little kid brought a smile to Peter’s face. He zoomed in on you and caught himself staring at you fondly through the camera.

“Come on. I haven’t even showed you the coolest part yet.” Peter said and brought you over to the build your figure own station. He laughed when you gasped again and started to excitedly rummage through all the pieces. Peter didn’t bring his phone out again until you had built each other.

“Show me what you made.” He laughed from the other side of the phone.

“Looks! It’s a little Peter. He has a backpack and a beaker.” You said as you proudly showed the camera the little Peter figure you had made.

“This is Y/n. I can’t believe I found the shoes you always wear.” He said as he filmed the figure he had made of you.

“You notice my shoes?” You asked with a smile. Peter didn’t catch it because he was too busy fitting the hands of your Lego figures together.

“Look. They’re holding hands.” Peter gasped.

“Aw.” You laughed. “Us on the subway.”

“We should give them some privacy. They might not want us to hard launch their relationship.” Peter said and put his phone away.

“You’re so cute.” You laughed without thinking about it. Peter looked up at you with rosy cheeks and you gulped when you realized what you said.

“I mean-“

“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He cut you off before you could explain. He brought you to Delmar’s and ordered his usual for you to split. You sat together inside and you tried your best to remain calm. You always wondered what Peter got up to when he wasn’t at school and now you were in one of his favorite places and eating with him.

“Okay, this is Y/n’s first time eating at Delmars since he reopened. Let’s get her reaction.” Peter said as he filmed you unwrapping the sandwich.

“Wait, why is it so flat?” You laughed and held the sandwich up.

“Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to warn you that he always squishes it for me. But you’ll like it. Trust me. It’s much better when it’s squished down real flat.”

“Well I’m glad I now know you like your sandwiches to be squished. I would not have expected that about you.” You said and took a bite of your half before giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked hopefully.

“I do. Your squishy sandwich was surprisingly good.” You admitted.

“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that.” Peter smiled and phone away. “So to make it even, you have to show me one of your favorite places next time we hang out.”

“Oh.” You smiled coyly. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time.”

“There better be. I had a lot of fun with you today. How come we’ve never hung out before?”

“I don’t know. I always wanted to but you were busy running around with Ned or staring at…” You trailed off and chose not to mention Liz in case he was still hung up on her.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re friends now.” You said instead.

“Me too. I’ve never had a girl friend.”

“What was that?” You said and started choking on your saliva.

“All my friends in my life were guys. It’ll be nice to have a female influence in my life.”

“Oh. Girl friend.” You smiled tightly.

You hung out another hour before taking the subway back to your respective apartments. Peter walked to you the front doors of you building and you had an awkward moment where you didn’t know if you should hug or not.

“We uh, we should probably get an ending for your film.” You said with a timid smile.

“Oh, right. Thats a great idea.” Peter smiled and pulled out his phone. He pressed record and you waved to the camera with both hands.

“So, can you give our first time hanging out a rating?” He asked you.

“9/10.” You grinned and held up two thumbs.

“What? Why’d I only get a 9?” Peter scoffed and pretended to be offended.

“I had a 10/10 time but I have to deduct a point because we saw that guy cutting his hair on the subway and I was scared he was gonna throw the scissors at us.”

“Well I would’ve just protected you with my lightning fast reflexes.” Peter said simply. You smiled at him through the phone and he smiled back. He put the camera down and looked at you with a content smile on his face.

“Seriously, though. When’s the next time we’re hanging out?”

It ended up being just a few days later. And then again a few days after that.

“Peter’s first time!” You cheered as you filmed him during one of your hang outs.

“Trying boba.” He clarified. “I don’t understand this drink. Do I eat the balls?”

“Yes. Sip it slowly so they don’t all go down your throat.” You instructed. Peter took a big sip and immediately started choking.

“Peter! I said slowly!” You said as you slapped his back until he stopped choking. You quickly put the camera down to help him recover.

Your hangouts started getting more and more frequent and Peter soon considered you a best friend. Your weekends became each others and school days were often spent together in the library or at one of your apartments. You were quickly moving up the ranks in Peter’s life, just as you hoped. And the closer you got, the more Peter could not believe he had never noticed you before.

Little did you know, Peter often found himself watching the footage he had taken of you during your hang outs with a big smile on his face. He’d rewatch the videos he had taken and realize that they were slowly becoming less of a documentary and more of a highlight reel for you. He never imagined a girl as cool as you would for him so when he realized he was starting to fall for you, he quickly repressed his feelings. Little did he know, the feelings were mutual.

“Did you always make these little videos?” You asked Peter one day as he filmed you trying to balance on the curb of the sidewalk.

“I used too make them all the time but I hadn’t for awhile. I only started them again when we started hanging out.”

“Really? Why?” You wondered and stumbled off the curb.

“I don’t know. You remind me of the time before my life got crazy. It made me want to do these again.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help but smile at that information and turned around to look at him.

“So I could be the star?” You asked and posed for the camera.

“Exactly. You’re my muse.” He played along, making you laughed shyly. When he watched the video back later that night, he knew he had meant every word of that.

Peter sat in his bedroom one day and filmed himself wearing your glasses while you did homework at his desk. He looked over you every now and then just to admire the back of your head.

“Don’t break those.” You called without looking up. All you needed to hear was the sound of your glasses case opening to know what he was doing.

“I’m not even wearing your glasses.” He lied and admired himself in the camera.

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not. But yes, I am.”

“Knew it.” You snorted.

“Hey, how come girls always smell so good?” Peter wondered. “Your hair hit me in the face when you turned too fast before it smelled like a baby in a damn meadow.”

“It’s just my womanly essence. Now can you stop looking at yourself long enough to help me with my chemistry homework?”

“It’ll be hard but I can try.” Peter dramatically sighed and set his phone down. You got yo from the desk and went over to the bed with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Incoming.” You announced and patted your elbow twice like a wrestler.

“No, don’t.” He pleaded. You ignored his pleas and jumped on top of him. He groaned and pushed you off, leaving you laying in the bed beside him.

“Ow. My ribs.”

“You’ll heal.” You rolled your eyes. “Now can you help me with number 7?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Can you check this email before I send it?” He asked and handed over his laptop. You handed him your worksheet before reading over his email draft.

“Oh, honey.” You grimaced just a few words into the email.

“Is it bad?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Howard. I hope this email finds you well. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I was just wondering if I could possibly have an extension on my midterm paper? No worries at all if an extension is not possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this email may have caused. Thank you for reading, Peter Parker.” You read out loud.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“After your name, you included the name of the class, the time you have it, and a description of yourself. She knows who you are!” You laughed and turned the laptop around to show him his mistakes.

“She may have forgotten.” He pointed out. “I can’t take any chances.”

“Peter, this email is way too submissive. You sound like such a bottom.”

“Well excuse me, genius.” He said sarcastically. “How would you write it?”

“Here.” You said and handed the laptop back after retyping his email.

“Oh, wow. That’s actually really good.” He said once he read your updated version.

“This is why we are such good friends. You have all the math and science knowledge in this little, beautiful head of yours-“

“Little?” He interrupted.

“You’re right. Sorry, I was just being nice. What I meant to say is that your head is huge.” You corrected. “Anyways, you have the math brain and I have the literary brain. It’s like you’re Einstein and I’m Victor Hugo.”

“Who the hell is that?” He laughed as he peaked at your mirror to see if his head was actually huge.

“The guy who wrote Les Mis.” You said like it was obvious.

“Never heard of it.”

“What? You’ve never seen Les Misérables?” You asked in a thick French accent.

“Huh?”

“We have to watch it. It’s so good.” You said and snatched his laptop back. You pulled up the movie and handed it back to him.

“Oh my God. It’s two hours and 38 minutes long? And a musical? Hell no.” Peter shook his head and pushed the laptop away.

“But it’s so good.” You urged. “We can just leave it on in the background while we work. It’s super light and easy to watch.”

“Really? What’s it about?”

“Oh, you know. Just war torn France.” You mumbled.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But you’ll like it! There’s prostitution and con men and um…oh! And orphans! You can watch it and feel represented.” You said and shook his arm.

“I hate you.” He laughed but nearly gave in to your request just to see you happy.

“Fine.” You huffed. “I finished editing your midterm paper, by the way. You don’t actually have to send that email.”

“And here is your completed chemistry homework.” Peter smiled and handed your worksheet back.

“Aw.” You gushed. “Look at us. I love cheating with you.”

“So do I. We make a great pairing.” He chuckled as he looked over at you. You looked back at him and gulped. You hadn’t realized how close you were with your arms and legs pressed against each other as you sat together in your bed. Peter knew his sheets would smell like your perfume that night and smiled at the thought.

“Now that we’re all done with our work, you know what we should do?” He asked as he moved in closer.

“W-what should we do?” You stuttered now that he was right there.

“You know what I’ve been dying to do with you for a long, long time?” He asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. What?” You laughed nervously. Peter moved in even closer and right when you thought he was gonna kiss you, he reached over and grabbed his laptop back.

“I wanted to show you a real musical. Not this French miserable bull crap. Have you ever seen a little movie called Hair-“

“No. I’m not watching Hairspray with you again. You scream-sang every lyric last time and I couldn’t even hear it.” You cut him off and reached over home to take the laptop back. He pulled it away at the last second and you ended up on top of him. You looked into each others eyes and both froze in the positions you were in. Your faces were almost touching but neither of you tried to pull away. Your eyes were going back and forth between his lips and eyes and he was doing the same. Like magnets, you two started to lean towards each other but before your lips could connect, May opened the door.

“What did you guys want- oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize I would be interrupting something. My bad.” May smiled sheepishly and pretended to cover her eyes. Peter burned bright red as you quickly climbed off of him.

“May.” He said warningly.

“Sorry. But maybe lock the door next time. And use protection.”She whispered the last part before shutting the door.

“May!” He groaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a long, awkward silence before you were even able to look at each other. When you finally did, you smiled awkwardly and kept your distance.

“That was so weird. What did she think we were doing?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.

“Psh. I know.” Peter scoffed. “She said she was interrupting but we weren’t even doing anything.”

“Yeah. What did she think? That we were gonna kiss or something?” You asked and laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever suggest.

“Us? Kissing? How silly. Imagine that.” Peter forced a laugh as well and looked to the side. The awkward silence returned and you struggled to look at each other.

“Do you think she made dinner?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“Let’s check.” You said and quickly got off the bed.

You didn’t discuss the almost kiss and went home shortly after. You couldn’t sleep that night because you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your mind. No matter how much you wanted him to like you back, if Peter reciprocated your feelings, he would have kissed you.

Your pity party didn’t last long because on the subway the next day, you felt Peter put his earbud in your ear. You heard the Les Mis soundtrack playing in your ear and looked up in surprise. Peter was already filming you with a huge smile on his face.

“This guy 24601 should stop stealing bread and stick to singing. He has serious pipes.” Peter said.

“You listened to it?” You melted into a smile and held your hand over your heart.

“Yep. I stayed up all night watching lyric videos because I couldn’t understand what they were saying with their accents. It’s actually really good. I love Eponine. I just wish Marious wasn’t such an idiot. How does he not see that his best friend is clearly in love with him?” Peter asked with exasperation. You looked directly at the camera and hoped it picked up the irony before looking at Peter again.

“He’s not an idiot. He’s a romantic.” You sighed. “He doesn’t notice Eponine because he’s in love with Cosette. And course he is. She’s prettier and richer and has perfect hair. He doesn’t even see Eponine.”

“Good hair isn’t everything. Eponine is way better than Cosette.” Peter scoffed. “I’m team Eponine all the way.”

“Are you really?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, for sure. I see why you like this stuff. These songs are awesome.” Peter said and put the other earbud in his ear. He then flipped the camera around to film the two of you sharing earbuds. As Heart Full Of Love played in your ears, you couldn’t help but longingly staring at Peter. The fact that he had stayed up late just to listen to something you suggested made you overcome with fondness for him. If he had done something like that, maybe he actually did feel the same.

“I forgot how good this album is. I haven’t listened in a while. I used to listen to it all the time back when you…” You stopped short when you realized you were about to say too much.

“When I what?” Peter wondered. You looked him in the eyes and decided that it was time to be honest. The song ended and a new, much louder one began to play in your ears.

“Back when you liked Liz. She was Cosette. I was Eponine. I was the one pining after a guy who never noticed me because he was in love with another girl. You were never mine to lose.” You admitted. Peter stared at you for a minute before pulling his earbud out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said. Master of the House is such a banger. What did you say?” He asked you.

“Never mind.” You smiled. “It wasn’t important.”

He smiled back before getting a text on his phone. You looked at his phone when you heard it buzz and realized he was still recording. In other words, he had just recorded you saying you liked him. Your eyes went wide but you only had a second to panic when you read the text he had gotten.

“Did Liz just text you?” You asked in a quiet voice. You felt like you were about to throw up. Years of crushing on a boy who liked another girl turned into months of pinning for your best friend and now turned into a rock in your stomach. Peter stopped recording the two of you to answer her text, which felt a little like a slap in the face.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been talking lately.” He absentmindedly replied to you as he laughed at whatever she had written.

“You have?” You asked with a dry mouth.

“Yeah. She says Oregon is pretty cool. But she wants to come back and visit this summer to see everyone.” He told you.

“And see you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It would be nice to see her.”

“Yeah. Totally.” You said weakly. “So how long have you guys been talking?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks? She texted me a little while ago and we’ve been catching up.”

“That’s awesome.” You lied.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again after she moved.”

“Neither did I.” You said through a forced smile. You needed to get off the subway and away from Peter before you started crying. So as soon as the subway doors opened, you bolted out.

“I gotta go. See you later.” You called to him before running through the subway station. You wiped tears as you went up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until you were in a bathroom stall at school. You gave yourself five minutes to be upset before drying your face and leaving the bathroom. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Now, Peter never had to know how you felt about it.

Peter was beyond confused by your exit on the subway but he wasn’t about to get any answers from you. You dodged his texts throughout the day and didn’t dare go into the lunchroom where you knew he and Ned would be.

“Y/n isn’t here yet?” Peter’s huffed as he sat down at your usual lunch table.

“Not yet. Actually, I haven’t seen your girlfriend all day.” Ned realized.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter blushed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me. She’s been so weird ever since this morning. Everything was fine on the subway until we got to school.”

“Well did anything happen on the subway that would weird her out? Oh no. Did you graze her boob with your hand again?”

“No. That was one time. And it was her boobs fault, not mine.” Peter whispered harshly. “We were just listening to music together and I was filming her like normal. But she could not get away from me faster once the doors opened. It was so weird.”

“Did you say anything weird to her? Girls don’t like it when you say weird things to them.”

“I know that. I didn’t say anything weird.” Peter replied as he pulled out his phone. He watched the video he had taken on the subway with no sound to see where he had gone wrong. All he saw was you looking at him with heart eyes which made his face heat up. But still, no evidence of where he messed up.

“I knew it. We were having a normal conversation about Les Mis and then I got a text from and then she ran. It makes no sense.”

“What was the text? Was it May saying something weird?”

“No. And stop saying weird. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore.” Peter ordered. “And the text was just from Liz.”

“Oh shit.” Ned said when he heard this.

“What?” Peter wondered.

“Oh, Peter.” Ned sighed. “Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“What?” He asked again, annoyed now.

“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or just keep saying my name?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy. And I don’t want Y/n to put a hex on my family.” Ned said and held up his hands.

“Y/n swore you to secrecy? About what?”

“Can’t say.” Ned shrugged and zipped his lips.

“Does she not like Liz? And doesn’t want me to know?”

“Dude. Dude, dude, dude, dude. You are so close but so far.”

“So she does like Liz? Oh my God. Does she a crush on Liz? And she’s jealous that Liz texted me and not her?” Peter whispered with wide eyes.

“You’re getting colder.” Ned waved his hand. “I don’t even know how you got there.”

“That was all my guesses. Just tell me.” Peter whined.

“Hell no. I don’t want Y/n to curse my crops and make not grow for all of eternity.”

“You don’t have crops.” Peter pointed out.

“I could develop some.” Ned snapped.

“I just don’t understand what she would tell you something but not tell me. We’re best friends. She usually tells me everything.” Peter said right as his thumb accidentally hit the volume button on the video. Your confession to Peter on the subway was heard loud and clear by the two boys. Both of their jaws dropped as the video ended with you asked if Liz had just texted Peter.

“Well I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush like that if I knew you had video evidence of her saying she liked you right in your hands.” Ned sighed dramatically.

“I need to find her.” Peter said and ran out of the lunchroom. He looked around the school until he found you under the bleachers in the gym. You were sitting with your back against the wall and your knees drawn to your chest with your earbuds in your ears. When you saw Peter coming up to you, you quickly pulled them out.

“Hey.” He said and waved cautiously.

“Hey.” You smiled sadly as he sat beside you. You sat in silence for a minute as neither of you knew what to say.

“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you all day.” He started off. You looked at your hands to avoid making eye contact and sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Liz?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t hiding it. I just didn’t think it would interest you.”

“Well you have no idea how interesting I found it.” You laughed dryly. “What do you guys talk about anyway?”

“Well, she originally texted me to ask me to confirm I had an internship at Stark Industries because her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she knew a guy who worked there. Apparently he’s been trying to get an internship there for years and he wanted to know how I landed mine. Then we just started catching up. I only talk to her here and there, though. And it’s only ever about school or work.”

“Oh. I thought you guys were talking talking.” You couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard the word “boyfriend.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just regular talking. When you saw her text on my phone, she was telling me about her cat getting spaded. And I didn’t know what that meant so she had to tell me. I should’ve just googled it.”

You laughed softly at that and he did too. The tension was let out of the conversation and you could finally breathe again. When you stopped laughing, you finally looked in his eyes.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” You asked quietly.

“For her? No.” He laughed. “Those are long gone. I have feelings for someone else now.”

“Oh God. Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter looked at you for a minute until an idea came to him.

“Actually, uh, I came looking for you because I was just making another video. Wanna be in it?” Peter asked and took out his phone. You looked at him like he was crazy and could not believe he had just asked that during that moment.

“I’m not really in the mood right now, P.”

“Come on. I can’t make it without my muse.” He said and nudged you slightly. You couldn’t help but to smile at that and reluctantly nodded. He propped up his phone against the bleachers and pressed record.

“In a world where two best friends have no idea how to communicate despite spending way too much time together.” Peter said in a fake deep, gravely voice.

“Okay. Shade. That’s fine.”

“What will it take for them to admit they have feelings for each other?” He kept the voice as he looked at you.

“Wait, what?” You asked and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Peter smiled softly at you and shrugged a little.

“What’s it gonna take?” He asked again in his normal voice.

“I don’t understand.” You laughed nervously.

“I watched the video from before. From the subway. I heard what you said.” He admitted.

“Oh shit. You watched it?” You grimaced.

“Uh huh. So if you’re Eponine, I guess that makes me the idiot who didn’t realize his best friend was in love with him?”

“I guess so.” You said with a tight smile and still didn’t understand why he wanted to film this incredibly awkward conversation.

“You know, if I didn’t have a video of it, I never would have believed that you liked me.” Peter told you.

“You wouldn’t? Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t seem possible that the coolest girl I’ve ever met liked me.” He replied.

“You think I’m cool?” You asked skeptically.

“I think you’re the coolest. And you know, I watch the videos I take of you all the time. And half of them are just clips of you existing. So I do notice you. It just took me a second to catch up.” He told you. A smile tugged at your lips as you stared into his big brown eyes.

“You’re my best friend.” You told him. “I’m sorry I want more.”

“I’m not sorry.” He shrugged.

“You’re not?”

“I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up and find that what I’ve been looking for has been here the whole time.” He said as he hooked his pinky under your chin and brought your face close to his.

“Wait, why does that sound so familiar?” You wondered.

“Don’t think about it too hard.” Peter whispered right before your lips touched. You kissed for the first time under the bleachers but it could have been in a palace for all you knew. The world disappeared around you as Peter slipped a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and laughed nervously together. It was a good nervous, a happy feeling of anticipation.

“Was that Taylor Swift?” You realized when you finally placed where you knew that like from.

“Shh. No.” He shook his head. “But yes, it was. You’re not the only one with good music taste.”

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pathologicalreid · 3 months

Note

hi! i was wondering if i could request a spencer x fem kindergarten teacher! reader who has to be interviewed by the team when something happens to one of her students (they find him) and spencer sees her and is just like in love immediately. thank you so so much!

kindergarten crush | S.R.

when one of your students goes missing, the BAU sends the A-team to ask you some questions

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to child abuse/endangerment but nothing detailed, kindergarten teacher!reader, spencer is smitten, emily is such an older sister, average cm case stuff word count: 1.86k a/n: ugh if you know how much i love teachers then you know how much i loved writing this!!!! tysm for requesting!

“Don’t teachers leave school when it ends?” Emily asked, following the secretary through the elementary school hallways.

The secretary glanced behind her to make sure Spencer was still following, “Contract hours end at four in the afternoon, which is about twenty minutes after the last bell,” she responded. “Some teachers are in charge of after-school clubs or they’ll stay to grade or plan for the next day, but the rest head home at the end of the day,” she continued.

Emily nodded in understanding, “And when does Ms. Y/L/N usually leave for the day?”

For a moment, the secretary’s resigned expression faltered to one of concern, “Once all of her students leave for the day.”

“Is that usually at a different time every day?” Spencer asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as they turned another corner, the walls were coated in colorful flowers with the names of what he could only assume were the kindergarteners scrawled on them.

There was nothing but a sigh from the secretary as she considered her answers, “That might just be a better question for you to ask her.” She continued leading the way until she stopped in front of a door that was being held open by a doorstop, knocking on the door, she peeked her head in, “Y/N?”

From where he was standing, Spencer could see your head peek out from beneath a desk, but once you recognized that you had unexpected guests, you stood up straight, “Oh, hi,” you greeted, hastily walking around the clusters of tables as you made your way to the door.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Emily asked, pulling her credentials out when you confirmed your name, Spencer followed suit, “We’re Agent Prentiss and Dr. Reid with the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit, do you have the time to answer a few questions about a case we’re working on?”

The bright smile that had initially been on your face quickly fell as you eyed the FBI credentials in front of you, “Oh, Cody,” you murmured. Stepping to the side, you gave the two federal agents space to enter your classroom.

Prentiss thanked the secretary before stepping into your space, “Oh, it’s colorful in here,” she said.

“It’s a kindergarten classroom,” Spencer responded quickly, “Studies show that there’s a link between bright colors and brain development, so these colors are probably conducive to a productive learning environment.”

He went over to the side of your classroom, watching you as you nervously wrapped your arms around yourself, “Thank you?” You said quizzically, not sure if you should take what he was saying as a compliment, “You are here about Cody, right? Cody Jenkins?”

Spencer nodded, “We are, you knew immediately, though.”

You moved your hand to cover your heart as if it was racing, “I was worried when he wasn’t here yesterday, but I knew when I didn’t see him today that something was wrong.” Your eyes flickered between Emily and himself, waiting for either one of them to say something, “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Why were you so worried when Cody didn’t come to school for two days?” Emily asked, tilting her head to the side, raven black hair catching in the fluorescent school lighting.

Sitting down at your desk, you sighed, “Cody loves school. He’d never miss a day unless it was absolutely necessary – I’m the one who brought the first concern to the administration that there might be problems at home, but…”

Raising her dark eyebrows in curiosity, Emily shared a look with Spencer, “But what?”

Watching you, Spencer noticed the way you nervously fiddled with a beaded bracelet on your wrist, although he couldn’t quite make out what the lettered beads spelled, he was able to deduce that the bracelet was important to you. “What’s on your bracelet?” He asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, he craned his head to try and read it on his own.

“Oh,” you said, looking down at the bracelet as if you needed reassurance that it was still there, “A student made it for me a long time ago. When I was still a student teacher,” you looked at the beaded creation fondly, “The mascot was the dolphins, so it just says ‘dolphin’. Spelled with an F, of course, because she was four.”

Once he knew what the bracelet said, he was able to make out the words, even noting the dolphin charm at the end of the word, “You care a lot about your students,” he said, stating the obvious, but the words seemed to put you at ease. “What do you know about Cody’s home life?”

Your eyes widened as you looked back up at Spencer and he tried to make himself seem as friendly as possible. “I know his parents have had some trouble – his dad has a bad history, as I’m sure you know, but his mom is a good person,” you said, reaching your hand up and scratching the back of your neck.

“But she never left Cody’s father,” Emily said questioningly, seeking confirmation more than anything else.

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you shrugged, “I’ve never been in that situation before, I don’t get to speak on the difficulty of leaving, but I can tell you that she’s a good person – she loves her son.”

“You care a lot about your students,” Spencer noted aloud, he looked around at the clusters of tables – each table was stocked with the same supplies. You even had a snack station at the back of your classroom.

Quickly, you nodded, “I don’t believe in kids getting a lesser education just because they don’t have the money or the support system at home. I do what I can,” you admitted. “Do you… do you think Cody’s dad did something to him?”

Sadly, Emily affirmed your question, “He’s a person of interest in the case.”

Pressing your lips in a thin, white line, you slouched back into your office chair, “Sometimes I wonder if there’s more to do. The state requires me to teach these kids about stranger danger, but last year a majority of AMBER Alerts that went out were for family abduction.”

“I’m sorry that you know that, Ms. Y/L/N,” Spencer told you.

You brushed off his apology, “For eight hours a day, five days a week, it’s my job to keep these kids safe – even if that means knowing things that I don’t like.”

Both Spencer and Emily accepted this, and they continued to ask you a few questions about what you knew about Cody. From your point of view, he was just a kid trapped in a bad situation, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it ever hurt you to send him home at the end of the day.

As the two of them left the elementary school, he shook his head in disbelief, “She made three reports on the father, and none of them were taken seriously by the school.”

“I know, Reid,” Emily commiserated, “So, the teacher?”

Her question came when the two of them piled into the SUV, giving her a bewildered look, Spencer furrowed his brows, “What about her?”

Emily scoffed, “’You care so much about your students,’” She said in a mocking voice, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on her chest, “’Oh, I’m so sorry that you have to know that information’. What was that about the colors in her classroom?”

Rolling his eyes, Spencer sat back in the passenger seat, “Okay, first of all, I do not sound like that. Second of all, I was building rapport – you should try it sometime.”

She chuckled from the driver’s seat, tossing a piece of paper in his general direction before placing her hands near the bottom of the steering wheel, “Here, this is for you.”

“What is it?” He asked as he took the paper and unfolded it.

Humming, Emily didn’t even look as she responded, “I wrote down her room number for you, so you can go ask her out once this case is over.”

Your door was closed when he got there and he wasn’t quite sure if he should knock or just give up. It wasn’t a far drive to get to your school from Quantico, and if he could ever work up the courage to make the drive again, he could always try then.

Lifting his hand to knock, he hesitated again, opening his palm and letting his hand drop to his side. “This is ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself, taking the sticky note that Emily had ‘gifted’ him and triple-checking the room number as if his memory and your name on the door weren’t enough confirmation.

Giving up, he turned around, stuffing the paper in his pocket as he did so, and almost running into you in the process, “Oh!” You said, stumbling back and taking a moment to reorient yourself before meeting his eyes. “Oh,” you repeated, softer this time, “Dr. Reid, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Spencer,” he corrected and immediately cringed. “I mean, I’m not here in any professional capacity, so… you can just call me Spencer.”

Flashing him a bright smile, you grinned in response, “It’s nice to see you again, Spencer.” You proceeded to tell him he could call you by your first name before inviting him into your classroom.

Looking around the room, the colors of the space once again made him feel welcome, “You’re here late,” he observed, looking up at the clock and noticing that it had passed your contract hours while he stood outside your door.

You nodded, “It’s the first of the month tomorrow, so I need to switch over my calendars and everything.” You went to pick up a dry-erase marker from the whiteboard, “Um, have you… did you find Cody?”

“Yes,” he responded immediately, remembering the excuse he had given the team when he told them he was going back to visit you. Morgan and Emily weren’t likely to let him forget. “He’s safe, and it looks like he’ll be able to stay with his mom,” he informed you, relishing the way his words put you at ease.

Any remaining stiffness in your stature faded, and the weight of your missing student was officially off of your shoulders. “Thank you – and thank you for coming back to let me know,” you said, putting your hands behind your back, the two of you seemingly at an impasse.

Taking a deep breath Spencer braced himself, “I actually didn’t come back for that. No, I mean, I did. I wanted to let you know that Cody was safe because you were worried and he’s a kid so obviously that was something that I thought you deserved to know since-“

“Spencer?” You said quizzically, smiling at him as he rambled on about your previously missing student, “What else was there?”

His eyes widened as you smiled at him, “Would you want to go out? With me?”

Your smile dropped from your face, and he began to emotionally prepare himself to lay face down on his couch tonight, but what you said next surprised him, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #margot's requests #written by margot #kindergarten teacher!reader

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sturncrazy · 8 months

Text

SECRET KINK

Chris Sturniolo x y/n (fem!)

(anyone else = green)

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT!!NSFW 18+

this is from a request for a breeding kink soooo!! hope u enjoyyyy🫶🫶

(breeding kink…obvi, no protection, pet names, praise, lang, and light mentions of drinking at beginning)

authors note: GUYS!!! sorry it’s been a fucking MINUTE!!! schools been whopping my ass but i’m back babyyyyyy!! and to the baddie that sent in a request lemme say girl don’t apologize for being into the breeding kink stuff cause i think it’s hot too🫶💋

word count: 3,112

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“here❤️” you texted chris,

pulling your car into the driveway.

“doors open❤️ the boys are still here, dw they’ll head out in a bit”

“nw! i wanna say hi” you checked your makeup in your mirror. you and chris had been dating for almost a year and you spent a chunk of the week sleeping at each others houses. chris had been having a “boys night” with his brothers and their friend, and you could hear their voices shouting over video games as you walked in the door.

“hi boys!” you said entering the living room. you were received with a serises of enthusiastic grins, but none of them seemed able to budge from their game. you walked up to chris and gave him a kiss on top of his head.

“hi beautiful” he grinned at you briefly

“hi hon—ooh! can i have one?” you asked, glancing at the table full of beer cans.

“yeah of course! help yourself” chris said, returning his focus back to the game.

“oh man fuck you” said nate, throwing down his controller in defeat. you chuckled and snagged yourself a can out of the fridge. nate fussed around the coffee table, already bored.

“what’s this” he said, holding up a card game box.

“some shit we got as PR, but it’s a drinking game i think? don’t know, we can’t exactly post about it” chris said, momentarily glancing up from his video game. nate unwrapped it and flipped through the deck.

“damn these are crazy” he said, his eyes going wide.

“really?” matt said, clearly uninterested.

“yeah like, just straight up asks your body count or take a shot”

“ooooo how improper” you mocked. nate gave you the finger, kiddingly.

“read me one. i’ll be the judge of how fun the game actually is” the video game was becoming increasingly boring to watch

“okay, tough guy” nate said, skimming for a better card. his eyebrows raised, apparently landing on one

“what’s the craziest kink you have? drink half your drink if you don’t answer” you sucked in your lips, and raised your can to your mouth.

“oooooo” nick chimed in

“bet chris already knows that one” nate said, slapping chris on the shoulder. chris laughed, his tongue folding over the front of his top teeth forming a cocky expression.

“nuh uh, you couldn’t waterboard that shit out of me” you snorted. chris shot you a curious look.

“weird game, probably meant for horny high schoolers” you quickly tried to end the conversation and settled down on the couch next to chris, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and your fingers into his hair. he smiled up at you and gave you a kiss on the cheek, which resulted in him getting killed off in the game.

“aw shit” he muttered

“sorry babe” you chuckled

“YES! FUCK YEAH! I WIN!” nick yelled moments later, while matt chucked his remote half across the room.

“who’s playing me again?” nick asked, eager for another victory.

“not me man, i gotta get home and get some sleep” nate stretched.

“i can give you a ride” matt said, reaching for his car keys

“sweet. alright, bye brotha” nate said, pulling chris in for a half hug

“bye, y/n” he continued, tussling the top of your hair in a familial way.

“night, nate!” you laughed out as he and matt headed for the door.

“wanna get to bed soon? i’m pretty wiped out” you said turning to chris

“yeah sure thing. i just need to shower” he smiled up at you.

“let’s head downstairs” he patted your leg, urging you to stand up and took your hand, leading you to his room in the basement.

“night nick!” you shouted out

“uh huh” he half answered, clearly engulfed in another game. you followed chris and padded down the steps to the lower level. chris had claimed this floor his and had done a nice job with it, particularly since you helped. it was cozy and felt secluded. plus, the privacy of being two floors from where his brothers slept was an added bonus. you flopped onto chris’s bed and reached for the tv remote.

“cool if i take a shower now?” he asked, you nodded

“okay…better not be asleep when i get out” while chris was in the shower you snagged one of his old t shirts and tossed it on as a nightshirt. your eyelids were just growing heavy, when you heard his bathroom door pop open. chris walked out in plaid pj pants, shirtless, rubbing a towel against his damp hair. he looked effortlessly hot—enough to wake you back up. he gave you a smile

“i love seeing you in my clothes” you continued to stare dumbly at his body, you’d never get over the sight of him.

“you fallin asleep?”

“well now i’m up” you said dramatically giving him a once over, eyes wide.

“little freak” he mumbled, bending over you to give you a kiss.

“dick” you teased, shoving him playfully. he crashed down on the bed next to you. you moved your head to his bare chest. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you close, before speaking against the top of your hair

“hey speaking of you being a freak”

“oh?” you laughed shooting him a look.

“was nate right that i’d know your answer in that game?”

“well…” you struggled for words a moment too long, chris caught on and pulled back to look you in the eyes. his mouth ajar in a shocked smile

“WHAT?! WHAT IS IT?! cmon y/n you have to tell me”

“what?? no way! nope!” you shook your head vigorously

“what? that’s so not fair. why not?”

“cause…i dunno it’s embarrassing. nuh uh” you felt your face begin to flush.

“we’ve had sex like a million times. and you’re telling me THIS is embarrassing?!”

“okay well that stuff is different”

“what stuff”

“like…fantasy…y’know?”

“oh so you’ve had FANTASIES you’re hiding from me” nothing you were saying was deteriorating chris’s curiosity.

“well no not fantasies but like stuff i’d never ACTUALLY do”

“you’re killing me here please TELL ME”

“NO!” you dragged the word out and rolled into a ball away from him, laughing. chris clamored on top of you and rolled you onto your back, pinning your arms down on either side of your head forcing you to look at him

“tell me right now i swear to god” he said smiling down at you, his still wet hair brushing against his eyes. you hated to admit the way he was holding you down was already turning you on.

“you’re gonna think i’m weirddd” you whined

“no i WONT! i promise” he let go of one wrist and offered you his pinky. you locked yours with him and widened your eyes

“you SWEAR you won’t judge me”

“cross my heart hope to die”

“you’re an idiot”

“just TELL ME”

“OKAY OKAY” you pushed him off you and sat up, facing him.

“but just to be clear, i’m not saying we’d ever like do it. i’m totally happy never doing this it’s just like a weird thing—“

“ehhhh whatever enough spit it out” chris said cutting you off. you rolled your eyes at his childish behavior and took a deep breath in.

“okay fine. i guess i’ve always kinda had a breeding kink?” you winced at your own confession. chris raised an eyebrow

“i mean i’ve never done anything to act on it, but like the idea of it is just hot to me…i know it’s weird”

“so is it just the idea of like not pulling out?” his tone was impossible to read and you felt your palms begin a nervous sweat, what if this freaked him out?

“no-well i mean— that’s a part of it yeah—but not just that, y’know?” chris nodded, taking in what you’re saying.

“but you’re on birth control right? like nothing would actually…?” he raised his hand, in gesture to what he meant.

“oh no, i guess it’s sorta more a role play thing? it’s not that i actually’d wanna get pregnant, just more the idea of pretending like that—i—it’s weird i know—sorry—“

“i don’t think so” he cut you off, shaking his head. you froze slightly

“you don’t?” he gave you a small smirk

“no, i get” you felt your heart beat heavily against your chest. he studied your face for a moment, the silence in the room drowned out by the obvious tension, before he suddenly broke out of it.

“so, what are we watching?” he asked lightly, lying back with his an arm behind his head and facing the tv. you felt a small wave of disappointment at the sudden shift, but went with it.

“oh i dunno, nothing looks great” you sighed, lying back down onto chris’s chest. he mumbled a response into the top of your head, his free hand softly brushing up and down your arm. you picked back up the remote and continued to flip through the screen. you landed on an old comfort show and before you knew it the conversation seemed like ancient history. chris eventually moved his arm from yours to around your waist. you raised a leg over his. your eyes flitted down to his fingertips where he was playing with the hem of his shirt you were wearing. he mustve noticed because he began to pull the fabric up higher, exposing even more of your barely covered lower half. you looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“what?” he chuckled

“whatcha doing there christopher”

“nothing” he mused, watching his own hands fumble with the shirt, the occasional bump of his cold fingertips against your skin sending little jolts through your body

“y’just look so sexy like this” he mumbled

“oh yeah?” his hands now lightly grazing your bare hip bone, the angle of your body being the only thing keeping you from behind entirely exposed.

“mhm. gets me all worked up”

“how worked up” you said in a innocent tone, looking up at him with doe eyes before sliding the hand your had from his stomach to his crotch. his eyes screwed shut and he let out a small hiss as your palm reached his already stiff clothed length. you scoffed lightly.

“hard for me already, huh?” you began to rub your hand against him, adding some pressure. chris squirmed under your touch, a faint groan escaping him. he nodded.

“aww poor thing. want me to help you out?” you said in a sweetly, palming his dick harder. he nodded his head, again, vigorously. you removed your hand to spit on it and he watched you wide eyed. you bit your lip in a smile, loving getting to see his face contort in desperation as you moved your hand down the waistband of his pjs. you wrapped your grip around his hard cock, it twitched against your touch and he let out an unsteady breath. you kept your eyes on him as you began to pump your hand up and down his length, watching him let out small moans and grasp at the sheets nearby.

“oh—fuck—“ chris sighed out. throwing his head back, his eyes rolling back into the sockets. his obvious enjoyment only made you want to hear more. you began to leave wet open mouthed kisses on his chest and moved down, slowly. his stomach flexed against each kiss and he whined against your teasing. you reached his waistband and looked up at him. he lifted his hips, allowing you to discard the pjs. his throbbing cock, still slick with your spit, slapped against his stomach. you returned your hand to wrap around the base of it and brought your lips to leave a sloppy kiss on its flushed tip. he shuddered before you began to lower down, sinking his dick into your mouth. you bobbed your head up and down, a trail of spit leaving your mouth. chris’s groans and curses filled the room in harmony with your occasional gags against his length. you felt one of his large hands reach for the back of your head. you tried to prepare yourself for him to push you further down, fucking your throat as he often liked to, but we’re surprised when he yanked your hair back, pulling you off of him. you looked up at him in confusion. he smirked and reached for your waist to bring you closer to him

“can’t cum yet baby” he lifted you onto his lap, his lips brushing yours

“don’t wanna waste any of it” he rasped against your mouth

“wha—“ you tried to question, as he wrapped an arm around your waist and tossed you onto your back. he pinned you, wrists by your head, and leaned down

“you heard me” he said cockily, before beginning to kiss you. you almost managed to fight for more answers, but chris began to grind his exposed rock hard dick up against your pussy and your mind went blank.

“oh—god—“ you moaned dumbly, raising your hips higher to meet his motion. his cock began to run up and down against your slick bare folds, brushing your clit repeatedly.

“such a good girl—so wet for me” he breathed out, the tip of his dick just barely adding pressure against your throbbing entrance. you heaved and thrashed underneath him. he kept your arms pinned and savored watching you become even more desperate.

“chris—please—“

he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours, and slide his hands to lock into yours.

“you ready baby?” he rasped out, letting go of your hands. you nodded and moaned against him.

“good” he said with a kiss before beginning to slide himself deep into your core. you let out a whimper as the tip of his dick pressed up against your most sensitive spot. a groan tumbled from chris’s lips and his eyes rolled back at the feeling of your walls fully tightening around him.

“god you feel so good, baby” he mumbled, before pulling back out of you almost fully

“please—fuck me, chris—“ you almost cried out, your pussy aching for more.

“—i need it so bad”

“yeah? you need my dick, honey?” he said sweetly, smirking down at you. you whined again and nodded as he thrusted deep into you again.

“oh god—yes—“ your fingernails reached to latch themselves deep into the flesh of his shoulders as he began to find a steady slow rhythm in and out and in and out of your squelching wet core. Chris’s eyes scanned your face and body lying beneath him as he fucked into you. they landed on your stomach and he licked his lips at the sight.

“fuck—look—can see me inside you—“

sure enough, his hard length created a bulge against your stomach with each thrust deep into you. Chris lowered a hand to press against it. you bit your lip and sighed out, too overwhelmed with pleasure to speak. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, groaning against your skin and bit your earlobe lightly.

“can’t wait to fuck a baby into you” he hoarsely whispered

“what—“ you half moan out, still too consumed with pleasure to think straight

“you heard me, sweetheart—gonna fill you up and stuff your little pussy—you’ll look so pretty all full of my cum”

your stomach twisted and your heart raced. you couldn’t help but let out an almost pornographic moan at chris’s words.

“you want me to give you a baby? huh, princess?”

“fuck yes—-please—“ you said, desperately. chris continues to slam into you, perfectly hitting where you needed him most. he gave you a passionate kiss before saying against your lips

“you gonna take every drop of my load, right?“

“yes chris—i promise—“

“such a good girl”

“don’t fucking stop—fuck—“

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give your pussy all the cum it deserves” he started to pick up the pace of his even plunges into you and the sound of your skin slapping against his began to echo in the room.

“gonna get you all big and fat and pregnant. well make the prettiest baby in the world”

“oh god—feels so fucking good—“ you whimper

“you ready, baby? want my cum in you now?” chris groaned, breathlessly. you felt your walls tighten around him as the familiar knot in your stomach started to form.

“yes—-please—fuck chris fill me with your cum—“ his dick twitched inside you at your words

“you’re gonna make such a perfect mommy—you’re doing so good for me gorgeous—just keep taking me just like that—”

the knot in your stomach begins to reach its last moments

“Chris—fuck—I’m gonna cum—“ you cry out

“good girl—cum all over my cock, sweetheart—“ Chris huffed out, coaxing you to release. your hearing begins to buzz as you feel yourself come undone. Chris continues to fuck you through your high as his motions begin to get more sloppy, the clenching of your walls bringing him closer to cumming.

“Ohhh—oh shit baby—“ he began to whine

“mmm that’s it—cum in me, chris—put your baby in me” you sigh out, wrapping your arms around his neck as you start to regain your senses

“ohh—nggh—i’m cumming—fuck, baby—-here it comes—“ chris pants as he roughly thrusts into you, his thighs and upper arms shaking slightly.

“OHHHH—“ his brow furrows as his release takes over. he lets out a loud moan as he haults, his cock buried all the way inside you. he shoots hot, thick, strands of his cum deep inside your walls, and then collapses against your body. the two of you try to regain your breath. chris lifts himself back up to look down at you and gives you a kiss, still buried inside you. you smile against his lips.

“how was that” he breathed out

“fucking perfect” you giggled

“yeah? i think so too” he chuckled, giving you a peck before lifting himself higher off you to pull out of you. he removed himself, gently trying to be aware of your sensitivity. you whined at the loss a little. he sits back and stares between your legs where your entrances still pulsates slightly, his cum leaking out. his jaw went slack

“what?” you giggled again, feeling a little embarrassed

“i could get used to seeing that” he said, not pulling his eyes away

“chrissss” you whine, attempting to shut your legs. he stops you with his arms

“nuh uh” he says before taking two of his fingers up to collect his cum and shoving them back inside you. you let out a sharp moan at the sudden feeling. he leans back over you with a smirk

“can’t waste any” he said, giving you yet another kiss

—————————————————————————

HEHE

hope u guys like this one

ITS GOOD TO BE BACK!!!!

💋

3K notes · View notes

paschimchhatnai · 8 months

Text

#tech #azad #technical #technical azad #ms word #microsoft word #technicalazad #youtube #ms word table

0 notes

pickingupmymercedes · 5 months

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It's Mrs. Hamilton - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

request: "I don't know if you saw that video of Barbara Palvin where they yell at her on a red carpet "Ms. Palvin, one more" and she yells "it's Mrs. Sprouse now" too iconic. Could you write something like that? But let Lewis see the video online and get excited and when he gets home he marks her as his wife..." - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Also, wrap it before you tap it

wordcount: +1K

a/n: This smut sort of has a plot, so thanks anon. Also, I cut your request because of how descriptive it was and I try to keep the explicit part under the cut, but everything you asked is down there.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

You returned to your apartment late in the evening, the soft hum of the city outside providing a gentle backdrop to your thoughts. The golden glow from the streetlights filtered through the windows, casting a warm, inviting atmosphere within. You had spent the day planning how to surprise your husband by coming home a few days earlier, eager to see his reaction. However, as you stepped into the entrance hall, your plans momentarily vanished from your mind.

Sneakers lay abandoned by the door, a wallet and bag casually discarded on the side table, and a hoodie carelessly thrown over the sofa. The apartment felt alive, yet Lewis was nowhere in sight.

“Lew, you home already?” Your voice echoed through the apartment; the silence broken only by the soft whimpers that floated from the last door on the right. Curiosity piqued, you approached, the soft carpet cushioning your footsteps.

He was truly a vision as you walked into the main bedroom, pillows stacked up on the headboard, the room dimly lit by a bedside lamp casting a warm glow, his torso adorned with a white tank, the fabric clinging to his sculpted form, arms glistening with a light layer of sweat. His legs were thrown open in the bed and his hands took the place your mouth used to go, fingers coated with precum, slowly moving up and down his rock-hard dick.

The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of his cologne, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly laundered sheets. Leaning against a pillar beside the bed, you became an unseen observer, captivated by the sight before you. His legs twitched occasionally, his eyes tightly shut, mouth opening to release deep, distinctive grunts. A video played on his phone caught your attention. At first glance, you thought it was pornography, but upon listening more closely, you recognized your own voice saying, “It’s Mrs. Hamilton now, actually.”

A mischievous grin tugged at your lips as you watched him and couldn’t help the smug reaction you had to realizing that the video, he had sent you just hours ago, had him pumping like shit for a while. Your voice saying the last name you now shared, those words that had such a hold on him, enough to get him hard and panting like he was.

His breaths were heavy, his body tense with anticipation, every muscle poised for release. It was a sight that made your heart race. You leaned down on his side, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering, “Caught you” His eyes flew open, a mix of shock and pleasure flashing in them as he realized you were there, watching him.

“Babe” he gasped, a flush spreading across his cheeks, but there was no shame in his voice, only a deeper urgency. His arms reached out, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours in a desperate kiss, tasting of need and longing.

You felt his body shudder beneath you, his hands roaming over your back, pulling you onto the bed beside him. “I thought you weren’t coming today. I would’ve waited for you” he murmured in your lips as his hands wasted no time in getting you out of your pants and panties.

You sunk down on him, no foreplay needed after the couple of minutes you’d spent hearing him. His hands roaming under your shirt and bra while you rocked in his dick for a few moments, letting him come down from the frenzy for a bit.

When you finally adjusted your knees around him and started up and down movements his eyes circled to the back of his skull. His hands went to your waist and his hips thrusted back up each time you went down on him, his grunts getting heavier by the second. When you gave the slightest sign of slowing down, he got up and flipped on the bed, not leaving you empty for a second, starting to pump into you just as your back had hit the pillows.

“Mark me, show me who I belong to” you shakily managed to get out, knowing he was getting close to his orgasm as his thrusts got deeper and his breathing heavier. Your words acting as his cue to let go and get his release, adjust his body so he held his weight in his arms as he locked you in his embrace, his stare holding yours like the very moment held all his universe.

When his body collapsed in yours and the only strength he had was just about enough for a single last thrust, you made sure to hold his shoulders in your embrace. The after shivers he’d get made his still semi hard dick brush your walls, and you couldn’t help the moan that left your lips, his eyes darkening all over again as he looked back at your pleasure contorted features.

He carefully slid out of you, watching as his seed dripped out of you, mixed with your own. His middle and ring fingers softly went over your cunt, collecting some of your juices before putting them in your mouth. The choice of fingers not lost on you as his wedding band hit your teeth.

“You’re mine, y/n” his eyes following your movements as your hips buckled when his fingers touched your clit, swirling around the inflamed button as he drowned in your cries and whimpers. His lips and tongue finding their way down to your pussy not long after, on a mission to drawn as many orgasms as he could from you that night.

As the high of your whatever orgasm calmed down, you felt Lewis coming back up and wrapping you in his arms. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your skin, soothing and tender. “You okay, love?” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, a contented smile gracing your lips. “More than okay.” you replied, nestling closer to him, enjoying the comforting weight of his arms around you. Lewis chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with affection and a playful glint as he quipped “So, about that 'Mrs. Hamilton' video.” he began, his tone light but curious.

Feeling mischievous, you looked up at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Oh, Lew” you began, drawing out his nickname for added effect, “It was just a little teaser. I didn’t expect you to be so... demonstrative in your appreciation.” You giggled, playfully tracing a pattern on his chest.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. “Come on now, y/n. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes at him. “Who, me? I was merely sending you a friendly video. I had no idea it would have you in such a state.” His laughter filled the room once more, the tension from earlier completely dissipated. “Friendly, you say? Well, your definition of friendly certainly has a new meaning now.”

You grinned, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I guess it does. But you have to admit, it was fun watching you get all worked up over a simple name change.”

Lewis chuckled, pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you. “It’s not just the name. It’s the woman that’s carrying that name.” Your heart fluttered at his words, a warm feeling spreading through you. “Well, Sir Hamilton, you’re not so bad yourself.” You teased as you watched his features darken again, a smirk already plastered on your lips as you heard the groan at the back of his throat.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #ella asks

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fayes-fics · 2 months

Text

Wisteria

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Even wallflowers bloom, and Benedict sees it.

Warnings: none... this is just fluff

Word Count: 0.7k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon HERE, who wanted Benedict and a young, wallflower reader. Just a short little scene. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy this. <3

You sigh as you once again find yourself wishing to be swallowed up by the wall behind you. And this is only your third-ever ball. The room is somehow both too hot and too cold all at once—a clamminess that has the applique of your dress itching and uncomfortable. You idly wonder if you took a wallpaper pattern to Ms Delacroix if she might be able to fashion a dress so similar you would not be visible at all…

It's not that you hate the idea of finding a match. Having a husband is most appealing. What is not so is the Ton’s preferred method—the awful parade and, indeed, inspection that comes with being a young lady taking part in the Season. You would much prefer to find someone with whom you could bond, away from all of this pageantry and artifice.

“Miss y/l/n…”

The rumbed, polite greeting instantly has butterflies twitching behind your ribs, your head swivelling with almost comedic speed as a tall gentleman pulls up next to you.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Quite the most handsome, eligible bachelor there is. Especially now that his brother, the Viscount, is so happily matched.

“Oh… Mr Bridgerton…!” You cringe at the squeak in your voice as you return his greeting, certain your cheeks are heating. “H-how is your evening?” Your query is polite, but you steadfastly keep your eyes averted, instead observing the swirl of dresses brushing the polished wood in front of you, the dancefloor filled with your fellow debutantes.

“It is better now…”

“How so?” You can't help your bubble of curiosity, looking up at him. Well, a spot on his lapel—you feel unable to look properly upon him, knowing it may make you far too tongue-tied.

“Present company,” he breezes, taking a sip of his champagne.

You turn left and right but quickly realise you are the only person nearby. Perhaps unsurprising given this spot is not optimal for anyone seeking attention, tucked as you are between a fireplace and a drinks table.

“Yes, you, Miss y/l/n,” he chuckles, his brow knitting bemusedly at your reaction.

Your cheeks are definitely aflame now. Why he would seek out your company, you have no idea. Yes, he has been a friend to your older brother for many years now, but you honestly did not believe he held you in any regard.

“After all,” he continues, “how could I not enjoy the company of a y/l/n?”

“But… I am so very different to my brother,” you frown slightly, thinking of how effortlessly your brother moves through the echelons of society, so at ease in any room, in any crowd. Not one to cling to a wall in any circumstance.

Benedict laughs, his face crinkling most attractively as he does so. “Indeed you are. But that is a good thing,” he remarks, “for I do not wish to court him.”

At first you are sure you misheard, but as you finally meet his gaze, you feel a burst of something warm and soft in your chest. His mein is warm and hope-filled but burning with a quiet intensity that steals your breath.

“Me?” you sound almost stupified. “But… I am a wallflower…” you blurt, wincing as you realise you have spoken aloud the word your parents have gently chastised you for being.

“Have you not spied the walls of Bridgerton House?” His tone is light and cheerful, a hint of amiable tease there that is so very him, a beguiling twinkle in those hazy eyes.

“Yes, of course….” you hesitate, not following his seeming change in topic, but unable to look away.

“Then surely you have seen how resplendent they are with wisteria?” He pauses as you nod, your attention wholly absorbed in him now, something so magnetic pulling you inexorably into him, almost alchemy. “Sometimes the most enchanting of flowers spend their lives clinging to a wall. Even when they finally blossom… And yet, their location does not diminish their beauty. Or their ability to attract admirers.” A crooked grin tugs charmingly at the corner of his mouth as he leans in a fraction closer. “So yes, you may indeed be a wallflower, Miss y/l/n, but you should know, I happen to think wisteria quite the most wonderful flower of all….”

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dovveri · 4 months

Text

ordinarily

synopsis: you’re having a few issues with your sex life so you decide to start seeing a sex therapist with your boyfriend

warnings: reader receiving, cheating, lots of sex talk bcs this entire fic is literally set around sex, fingering, clitoral stimulus, vibrators, dildos + strap on, sana watches reader masturbate

w/c: 7.8k

a/n: if u didn't know im a psych student and this idea came to me at 3am while cramming sexual dysfunctions for my finals and i ltr wrote this in a few hours bcs i was OBSESSED - that being said this is all still fictional bcs... let's be honest i js wanted to have sex with dr sana but some of the facts are still real! the treatment however... not so real LMAO

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“ms. l/n?”

“yes!” you scramble upwards at the sound of your name, pulling your boyfriend up with you and walking briskly towards the woman who’s called you. she offers a kind smile, gesturing for you to follow her.

“is it alright if i bring my boyfriend along?”

she nods, “yes that’s fine. it’s actually customary that both partners are here for appointments like these.”

she leads you towards her office, a clean, organised room with a small couch next to the doctor’s table and chair, and what looks like an upgraded version of a classic examination table.

she seats you both and rolls her chair forward so she’s facing the both of you when she talks. “so how can i help you today ms. l/n?” her eyes are kind, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“u-um just y/n is fine dr. …” you glance to her badge, “minatozaki.”

“alright y/n. sana is fine for me too then.” she smiles.

“r-right sana. so we’ve just been having some trouble with our- um- sex life recently and i think it’s mainly my fault.”

she frowns a little, picking up a notepad on her table to jot down some things, “why would you think that?”

“um well- i- i haven’t um- i’ve never had a penis in me before. my previous male partners would only ever use their hands or mouth but because we were getting a little more serious than that, i wanted to let ben-“ you glance at your boyfriend who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat a little, “be the first and we’ve tried for a while now but it’s always just too painful? and i know everyone says the pain passes and whatever but it never seems to pass for me…” you blush, getting progressively embarrassed as you go on.

"i see. do you mind if i ask you a few questions about your sex life?"

you nod, feeling intimidated by the things she's jotting down into her notepad.

"how long has this been going on?"

"umm- i'd say we've tried to have penetrative sex for about 2 months now?"

"have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"no."

"do you have any history of previous mental health problems?"

"not really, no."

"when you attempt to have sex, do you engage in foreplay?"

"u-um... yes."

"and are you able to secrete natural lubricant from that?"

ben lets out an undignifed snort. you elbow him, face burning red when sana looks up from her notepad, narrowing her eyes at ben who shrinks in his seat, covering his mouth.

"u-um yes i think so."

"ben? is this true?" sana's eyes are locked on ben.

"sorry doc are you asking me if my girlfriend gets wet?"

"for lack of better words yes."

"well yes she gets plenty wet. i always make sure she's turned on before i go in. if you’re asking about if i'm good at sex then yes. i am. plenty of girls in the past have cum because of me."

"i didn't ask that but thank you for your contribution." sana says a little sarcastically, looking back towards you and then down to her notepad. you elbow ben again in response who glances at you slightly annoyed, the tips of his ears red.

"what sorts of foreplay activity do you engage in, does it arouse you, and on average how long would you say your foreplay would go on for?"

"i- um- i-"

"this is a safe space. everything i'm asking is purely for diagnosis reasons, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, i deal with lots of clients everyday who come in and have talked about much more bizarre things and none of them are nearly as attractive as you are which makes it a lot worse when someone comes in here claiming they have sexual proclivities towards aliens or otherworldly beings."

you blush, the throwaway compliment in there didn't fly past you. "do people really ask about that?"

sana chuckles a little, "oh you'd be surprised the things people come in here about."

you laugh a little in response as well, feeling more comfortable around the doctor, "um well i guess we do all the normal stuff. kissing, whatever, um it usually lasts about... 10 minutes?" you turn to ben who shakes his head a little so you correct yourself, "20 minutes maybe. and um yeah i guess it does arouse me."

sana hums, making a few more notes, "are your nipples sensitive? your breasts? does he play with them? what about your clitoris?"

"i- um- yes... to all of those."

"have you ever orgasmed before?"

"i- yes."

she senses the hesitation in your voice, looking up curiously, "have you orgasmed during sexual relations with ben?"

you shuffle in your seat a little uncomfortably. ben looks at you expectedly, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"yes. yes she has." ben replies for you instead when he realises you're not responding.

sana's eyes cut to his with a scowl forming on her face, "did you know only 64.4% of women are able to reach their orgasm during sex? and that number is even lower when the sex is just penetrative? in comparison, 91.3% of men reach their orgasm, in fact, sexual dysfunction in men is actually more common when men orgasm too fast."

ben raises an eyebrow defiantly, "your point doc?"

"that it's normal for women not to reach orgasm. and normal for them to fake it when their boyfriends are pretentious assholes that think they have the best game in the world but in reality, have inflated egos that would easily be shattered if he found out he wasn't as good as he thought he was. most of these women care too much about hurting their partner's feelings than to tell the truth."

ben leans forward aggressively, ignoring your protests for him to sit back down, "i don't know what kinda whack patients you got in here doc but i'm not one of them. i don't need anyone to worry about my feelings like you women do."

sana rolls her eyes, not backing down from his intimidation, "do you have any problems with sexual activity? come too fast? not able to get it up? not able to come?"

ben sputters, "w-what?! who do you think i am?!"

"it's a yes or no question."

"no! i don't have any of those problems! i told you i'm not one of your weird patients!"

"alright that's all we'll be needing from you today. i think this session will be much more productive for y/n if you leave the room. so if you'd please-" she stands up and opens the door, indicating for him to leave.

"what? you can't just kick me out! this is my girlfriend! i'm just as involved in this as she is!"

"actually, since you haven't admitted to having any problems with sex, and you've both said that foreplay and arousal is adequate, there's nothing more that involves you. so yes, i can kick you out."

ben looks back at you, his face red, but you push him forward, "just go ben don't make a scene. i'll see you outside." he frowns, sending a final glare to sana before stomping out the room.

sana closes the door softly after him, settling back down with a sigh.

"i'm so sorry about him i didn't know he would react like that i-"

"it's okay y/n. this is actually quite common. sexual dysfunction is often severely underreported in men, because of the masculine standards they put themselves up to, lots of them won't seek treatment. that's why most of the clients we get are women who come in here with their boyfriends, and a lot of the time these boyfriends don't think they have anything to do with the women's sexual dysfunction, and a lot of them can't accept that they do."

"but you just said-"

"i know what i said. and it's true that if your foreplay is indeed enough and arousing for you, and that this isn't because of any sexual dysfunction he may have, then it no longer directly regards him. however, just because it doesn't directly involve him, doesn't mean it's got absolutely nothing to do with him. i do think i have an idea of what you're going through, but to confirm i'd like to ask a couple more questions if that's okay with you? and hopefully you can be fully honest with me now that ben isn't here."

you shuffle in your seat a little. "yeah of course."

she smiles, going back to her notepad, "so backtracking a bit, i'm assuming ben hasn't been able to make you orgasm?"

you blush, shaking your head.

"how about with previous partners? is there anything they've done that's helped you reach that orgasm or are there any similarities you can think about between them?"

"mm well for one, i've only ever been able to come when i'm with women."

"oh?" sana looks up again over her specs, a twinkle in her eye.

"u-um yeah and with them it's mostly um, using their hands or oral, and even then i normally need at least some clitoral stimulation to come. i have tried using dildos before but i also find it a little too painful, but i'm at least able to bear it when it's with a woman, with ben i kinda just push him off because it's all too much."

"i see. that's quite normal. most women do require clitoral stimulation to be able to orgasm. a very small proportion of women are actually able to come from penetration alone. do you masturbate?"

you blush again, fiddling with your fingers, but her friendly smile reassures you, "yes. well- less since i've been with ben because he doesn't really like it when he finds out i've touched myself. he gets a little offended and always says i don't need to masturbate when i have him. he takes offense because he thinks i'm doing it since he's not doing a good enough job or something."

"hmm." she hums, jotting something else down, "is he doing a good enough job? i know you said foreplay was fine but i just wanted to check in on that again."

"he's alright i guess. like most men i've been with in the past he does kinda rush things a little, and he does do foreplay it's just a little rougher than i like sometimes. i also think um-" you blush, eyes flickering around the room.

"mm?" sana smiles gently again, encouraging you.

"i think he has trouble finding my clit? or i don't know he always kinda fumbles around when he fingers me so his hands always brush against my clit a little too rough and then he presses down on parts where he thinks it is and asks me if it feels good."

sana hums again, writing down some more notes before the next question. "so back to masturbation, before ben, how often would you say you masturbated?"

"oh u-um, maybe like once a month?"

"and you're able to make yourself come?"

"sometimes. sometimes it just gets too tiring and i end up just falling asleep."

"i see." sana writes a few finishing notes and then places her notepad on the table. "so from what you've told me today, it would seem like you have something called genito-pelvic pain or penetration disorder. normally this sort of behaviour has to go on for at least 6 months before it is diagnosable, but even though it’s only been two months for you, we can still work on ways to improve your symptoms. so there's nothing physically wrong with you or your body, this is more of a cognitive response to a fear of pain from penetration. what happens is because of this fear, you're vaginal muscles tighten when you're about to have sex, they're trying to protect you from this invasive thing that's going to enter your body and that it thinks will cause you a lot of pain. this is why it's so much more painful when someone does penetrate you, because you're muscles are already working actively to try and push it out, they only get tighter and tighter making sex more painful for you. this kinda creates this cycle of fear because it does hurt when you have sex, so the next time it happens, your muscles learn to anticipate this pain and try to close you off from this external invasion. does that kinda make sense?"

you nod a little hazily, the words floating around in your head.

"it's a good thing that you're still able to take penetration though. in some extreme cases women's vaginas have been sealed so tight penis penetration is impossible. now there aren't any medications for this unfortunately, but the main treatment is to unlearn this fear that's maintaining the disorder, and eventually you'll be able to engage in sex that is enjoyable for you again."

"how would i unlearn that?"

"well first of all, masturbation helps. a lot. you say you were only really doing it once a month in the past but actually, masturbating weekly or even twice a week is perfectly normal. and i know you said your boyfriend doesn't really like it but... well it's your body right? if he can't make you feel good then you need to start learning how to make yourself feel good. you need to start turning sex into a positive experience again. later down the line, that also means a lot more foreplay than what you're currently doing. i'm talking like an hour at least. using lube as well will be extremely useful, even if you are wet, it always helps to be fully prepared for that first penetration. i know this all sounds like a lot right now so we'll start slow. would you mind getting up on the examination table and taking off your pants and underwear. i'd like to examine your pelvic muscles a little more closely."

you nod, shuffling onto your feet and beginning to strip out of your clothes. sana pays you no mind, grabbing a new pair of gloves and slipping them on. you figure sana has done this plenty of times in the past, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. well... aside from the fact that sana was really pretty and her really pretty hands were about to be touching you and-

she's turning back around when you lay on the examination table, hands crossed on your stomach, fiddling with your fingers. you avoid her gaze but catch the way her eyes linger a little on your legs. she moves closer towards you, you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, feeling the tips of your ears go red at the attention.

she giggles a little and you're confused, "y/n you have to open your legs for me to be able to see anything."

"oh right i- um-" you shyly spread your legs apart, revealing your cleanly shaven lips.

sana squeezes something into her hand, "this is just lube. to see your pelvic muscles in action means i'll have to part your walls so i'm just lubricating them to make it a little more comfortable for you." she looks up at you, waiting for your consent, and when you nod, she gets straight to work.

you gasp at the cold feeling of the lubricant running down your folds, wiggling a little. then, sana's hands come in and start massaging the lube along your folds, spreading it so it covers the entire surface area of your core, fingers gentle as she spreads the liquid. your breath catches a little when she bypasses your clit, squeezing your hands together, and trying your best to not make any inappropriate sounds while in your doctor's office.

you sneak a glance down at her, watching the way she has her lip caught between her teeth while she focuses, eyes glued to your folds. she spreads your lips and starts applying the lube on your inner folds as well, meticulous with her work, making sure no slice of skin was missed.

"i'm going to start prodding around your entrance now alright?"

you can only choke out a hum in response, not trusting your voice to give away the fact that this was turning you on very much.

one of her fingers glides down to your entrance, her other hand still holding your lips open, and she starts to poke gently at your entrance, you can feel when a short fingernail dips in just slightly, wiggling around a little to try and loosen you up. at this point you're kinda glad sana went with the lube because it meant she couldn't tell she was actually getting you spectacularly wet on her own, your own slick mixing with the lube she's spread all over.

she starts pushing a finger in very slowly, but you cringe a little and shuffle your hips when she's about a knuckle in. she pulls out gently, "hurts?"

you nod, "a little."

she starts pressing gently against your folds again, "i'm just going to try massage your folds from the outside, hopefully it'll get your muscles to relax a little with some stimulation."

it is relaxing, the way she's gently pressing into you, it’s certainly never like anything you’ve felt before, it turns you on, but also eases you, it’s a combination you’ve never experienced.

when she gently runs a finger over the hood of your clit your hips jerk and you gasp.

“sorry! too much?” sana backs away quickly, hands raised so you can see she’s no longer touching you.

you inhale, forcing yourself to look at her, your gaze a little blurry, eyes lidded, “n-no. that was- g-good actually.” your voice is a lot scratchier than it was, you can’t believe how turned on you are from just minutes of being with her. “a-actually would it- um- are you allowed to take your gloves off? like if you want to! you don’t have to if you think it’s gross or anything i just think it could help a little so you can feel exactly where your skin and nails touch me.”

sana raises an eyebrow, seeming to consider you, and you want to crawl back into your pants, run away and never see be seen in public again the longer she takes to regard you.

but then wordlessly, she takes her gloves off, flicking them into the bin and reaching for the bottle of lube.

“oh um- you don’t have to. i’m wet enough i think.”

sana smirks then, squeezing some into her palm, “oh sweetie i know. remember what i said about lubing up anyway though? there can never be too much lube.”

you blush at the pet name, gritting your teeth when you feel the cool liquid and the soft touch of her fingers again. except this time it’s so much more real, you can feel every single brush, every stroke, every movement of her fingers against you. when she brushes against your clit again, you can’t help the faint moan you let out. your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you feel her still her movements against you. “s-sorry i-“

“it’s okay. you can make as many sounds as you want. just relax. stop thinking sweetie.” she brushes over your clit again, with a little more purpose this time, and you let out another whimper, trying to stop your hips from grinding against her hand.

the next few minutes are torturous. you're biting back moans every 2 seconds, focusing on keeping your hips solidly on the examination table, hands clenched tight together, you’re so wet you can hear the way she's sliding through your folds much more easily now, able to insert the entire length of her fingernail in with each stroke downwards. your breathing has gotten observably heavier, each inhale and exhale is strained, and you certainly couldn’t look at sana anymore, eyes glazed, just trying to focus on not giving yourself away.

"i’m gonna try go in again now okay?"

you nod, a little desperately, closing your eyes to block out the sight of her between your legs.

she gently prods at your entrance, now able to slide a knuckle in fairly easily, you feel like jelly around her, unable to control your own movements when you jolt downwards, sucking in more of her finger and moaning at the feeling.

“alright?”

“mhm just- just do it.”

“do what sweetie?”

“just- you know-“

“hmm?” she slips a little further in, and you clench around her, your muscles trying to trap her inside of you.

“f-fuck- i- yeah- fuck-“

she giggles a little and you flush, you realise again that she’s very attractive and very good with her hands and those hands are now inching even deeper into you, and before you know it, she’s got her entire finger buried inside of you.

you’re breathless at the feeling.

“painful at all?”

“n-no. not at all. feels- um- g-good.”

you can hear the smirk in her voice when she teases, “you feel good.”

you clench around her at the praise, unaware that sana’s trying her very best to stay as professional as possible, despite wanting so badly to rid you of all your clothes and fuck you until you were moulded to only be able to take her.

“relax baby. i’m going to slide back out now okay?”

you whine when you feel her retreating slowly, your walls gripping her finger, urging her to stay inside. but she comes out until just the tip of her finger is in you, and then pushes in again, filling you up deliciously.

you exhale deeply, back arching at the feeling.

“good?”

“fuck- so fucking good oh god-“

she’s pulling out and pushing in again, slow and careful, watching your body for any signs of pain and fixed on the way your face contorts in pleasure at the feeling of being sexually satisfied for the first time in months.

“think you can take another?” you peek open your eyes to find that sana looks slightly more dishevelled than before, her breathing also a little irregular now, her voice low with lust. you gulp at the sight.

“y-yeah.”

now that you've caught a glimpse of her, you can't look away, your eyes tracing the way her gaze is a little clouded, her tongue peaking out to wet her lips. then she's pushing in again with a second finger, rubbing your clit lightly with her other hand and pressing down onto the external parts of your folds to get you to loosen up.

you suck her in easily, whimpering a little when she stops and looks up at you in concern.

"k-keep going p-please- i can take it- fuck-"

so she continues her journey, pressing in deeper, and deeper, until she's able to fit two fingers snugly inside of you. you moan when she fills you up, pulsing around her, muttering curses and hands moving to hold onto the sides of the examination table.

but then, sana's pulling out again, and this time she doesn't come back. she clears her throat, moving towards the sink in her office to wash herself up.

you clamber onto your elbows hazily, completely soaked and watch in confusion as she dries her hands, her cheeks flushed.

"i think that's enough for today y/n. you can use the sink and this towel here to clean yourself up and get dressed. i'll wait for you outside." she doesn't spare you another glance and slips outside the room, closing it behind her to give you some privacy.

you take a second to recover because what the fuck just happened? you can only follow her instructions dumbly, picking up the towel she's left for you and cleaning yourself up, still incredibly sensitive when you twitch with each swipe along your folds. you put your clothes back on and rearrange your hair so that it doesn't look like you were just about to come mere minutes ago.

once you're tidied up and you've cleared your mind, or at least pushed all the lustful thoughts about being fucked into the table aside, you step outside the office, looking around to find that sana's with ben at the front desk, talking to the receptionist.

you clear your throat to announce your presence when you walk up to them. ben seems to have calmed down and he kisses your cheek sweetly when you sidle up next to him. you take note of the way sana eyes the action, her grip on the pen getting just a little tighter.

"alright y/n. i talked with ben to get an idea of your availability so i hope it's okay that i've booked you in for another session in about 2 weeks."

"yes that's fine!" your voice comes out unintentionally higher than you meant it to. the nerves and confusion hitting you at once.

"and i'll also set you a little homework. like we talked about, masturbation is key to getting better. so here's a self-care kit, it's got a clitoral vibrator and a few different dildo sizes as well as a couple of bottles of lube. i want you to try using the vibrator first, get used to the feeling of orgasming, and then start to bring in the smallest dildo. ben can watch if you want him to or help, but just remember what i said about making sex a positive experience. that's the main purpose of all of this, just relearning that sex is good and that it’s meant to be fun and enjoyable. i'll check with you in 2 weeks how the progress is going and we'll go from there. any questions?"

the entire time she talks to you, she barely looks into your eyes, it's clear she's already discussed all of this with ben who looks more than happy to be a bystander to your sexual pleasure if it meant he would be able to have sex with you later on. you find yourself a little disappointed that she won't acknowledge you. you shake your head no, and she slides you a few forms and the self-care package she mentioned, discreetly wrapped and in a cute little takeaway bag.

"great i'll see you in two weeks y/n. if you'll excuse me now." she sidesteps you and walks briskly back into her office, your eyes trail after her, but you shake the feelings from your head, refocusing on the present and the way ben has his arm wrapped around you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it's a fortnight later and you're sitting in a familiar waiting room, this time without ben because you convinced him to stay behind after his retaliatory actions the last time he was here. maybe you also just wanted to see sana alone but you weren't going to tell him that.

if you were being honest, sana hasn't left your mind once since you left the clinic two weeks ago. even when you were completing her assigned homework tasks, it wasn't broad muscles and rugged facial hair that you were thinking of, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always drifted back to the way sana had handled you so carefully, the way her fingers felt inside you, how she paid attention to every single reaction you made, every small sound, twitch, how attentive she was. and sometimes your thoughts drifted into territory that was a little more imaginative. those usually consisted of sana using the various toys she'd given you to bring you to heights you weren't able to bring yourself to.

"y/n?"

your head snaps up at the voice. you beam seeing her, she has her hair up today, pretty earrings and perfect features accentuated. she smiles in response at you, gesturing you to follow her to her office.

you settle into the familiar office again, much more relaxed and excited than the last time you were here.

"i see you're looking a lot more chipper than 2 weeks ago." sana comments with a smile, grabbing her notepad that you recognise from last week.

"just happy to see you again."

her smile fades a little at that, but you don't let that discourage you.

"right... so tell me how your fortnight has been. have you attempted to have sex with your boyfriend again? uh... bryson was it? or brendan?"

"ben. and no we haven't had sex again. i also took your advice and let masturbation be just a personal experience. he asked to watch and help but i told him it would be better if he didn't."

"that's good to hear. how has the masturbation been?"

"great! you were right! i've forgotten what having sex just for the sake of doing it for myself felt like. i've spent so long thinking i enjoyed it when i was really just an item for my partner's satisfaction. in a sense that brought me joy as well, being able to provide a source of happiness for them, but i realised that that's not a healthy thing to keep doing."

sana smiles genuinely, "very good y/n. i'm glad that masturbation has helped you realised that. how about your vaginal muscles? did you try using the dildos in the self care package?"

"um- yes i did but- i was actually hoping- uh-"

"hmm? what is it?"

"well i still haven't really been able to cum from using the dildos, only from the vibrator. it's not as painful anymore to put them in, and i'm still working up the sizes, but it still doesn't really feel good? like it just feels like there's something in me, it doesn't really derive pleasure or anything like that."

sana hums, thinking a little, writing down a few notes before closing her notepad. "would you show me?"

"i- um- sorry what?"

"how you've been masturbating. it may be something with the technique, but if it's something else more serious, i'd need to know about it."

"oh! yeah of course." you stumble upwards, repeating your movements from 2 weeks ago, stripping of your clothes, except this time, you take your top off as well.

sana yelps and turns around at your abrupt show of skin.

"something wrong sana?"

"oh- um- no nothing i just thought- um- i didn't think there was reason for your top to be off as well-"

"you wanted to see how i touched myself right? i generally try and stimulate my tits as well since my nipples are quite sensitive."

"right... yes of course." she turns around again, avoiding your gaze and looking to the floor, waiting for you to get on the examination table.

your lips quirk a little at how shy she's being, "is something the matter sana? you see naked bodies all the time in this line of work don't you? and you pretty much saw me naked last time as well..."

sana blushes even brighter, "um- well- yes but- most of my patients tend to be middle aged and they certainly aren't as attractive as you are."

"you think i'm attractive?" you're laid on the examination table now, head turned to the side so you can watch as the doctor fumbles where she's seated, still not looking at you.

"i- um- well- forgive me- i'm trying really hard to be professional right now and-"

"is that why you left in such a hurry during our last session?" you start trailing your hands over yourself, finding yourself easily aroused in the presence of the other woman.

"oh- um- well- yes i- i didn't want to make you uncomfortable-"

you moan gently when a practiced hand glides up to squeeze softly at a tit, the other sliding down slowly towards your centre. "you could never make me uncomfortable sana. well actually... i was only really uncomfortable when you left me so empty last time. i couldn't wait to go home and try out the toys you gave me, i haven't felt so turned on in so long and i needed to get that out of my system as soon as i could." you're trying to get a rise out of her, but everything you're saying is the truth anyway.

sana's eyes are on you now, wide and a little shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, and you revel in the way that meant her eyes now travelled your body. you try and angle yourself so she can see the way you squeeze at your breast, brushing over a nipple lightly with your palm and watching it pebble in reaction, your other hand dipping down to trace along your folds, finding that you're already dripping, the fact that the object of your sexual desires for the last 2 weeks is now only inches away from you, watching you touch yourself, driving you further off the edge of sanity.

"y/n..." sana's voice comes out almost 2 octaves lower than her usual register. you catch the way she wets her lips and crosses her legs.

"i'm so wet already i don't even need lube. and i know you kept saying to use it no matter what and trust me i did when i got myself off at home, but right now, just look-" you bring your hand up from between your legs, making an obscene display of licking your fingers and sucking on them, making sure she could see the arousal that coated your fingers.

sana's jaw tightens at the sight, she shuffles a little in her seat, unconsciously moving closer towards you.

"you don't have to worry about being unprofessional sana. i promise i want this just as much as you do right now." you slide your hand back down yourself, finding your clit easily after the practice you've gotten over the last fortnight, and rubbing circles around it.

"bold of you to assume i want this. this is my job after all." you leak at the register in her voice, it's something you've only been able to imagine in your fantasies.

"you don't want me?" you pout a little, turning onto your side so your entire body is facing her, your arm pushing your breasts together while a finger tugs gently on a nipple, your other hand still rubbing fast little circles into your clit.

sana chuckles darkly, her eyes closing, she seems to be trying to force herself to keep still.

"because just to be clear... i've thought about how you touched me every single time i came these past two weeks." your breath hitches when you recall the way you'd vigorously rub one out to her, sometimes multiple times a day ever since you started masturbating again. "i- oh fuck- no one has gotten me that turned on in such a short amount of time ever- nng- and i'd think about the way you felt inside me, and how careful and gentle you were- fuck- and then i'd think about how rough you could get as well- oh- and how i'd try and be so good for you- can you- can you pass me the dildo? i think i can slide the smallest one in now-"

she gets up from her seat wordlessly, exuding a dark aura that makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. she moves towards your bag, digging for the package and pulling it out, taking the smallest dildo and then moving back towards you. her pupils are blown, hungrily drinking you in, your fingers speed up just a little at the attention.

you reach out a hand mid-moan, asking for her to pass you the toy.

but she clicks her tongue, pushing your hand away gently and lubing up the toy herself.

you gulp, turning so you're laid flat on your back again, spreading your legs so she can see just how wet you were.

her eyes meet yours briefly, and you adore the way she checks in and makes sure you're okay with this, and you nod, giving her permission before she's sliding the dildo into you.

"oh shit-"

sana hums, pushing the little gold dildo in further, transfixed on the way your fingers move just a little rougher around your clit with every centimetre.

when she's completely inside you moan, clenching around the dildo, it was a comfortable size inside you.

"any pain?" her voice is rough, laced with barely concealed lust.

you whine, "n-no- you can move."

she starts pulling out, and it is almost painful the threat of being empty leaving you desperate, grinding down to try and keep her inside you, but she pushes back in, just a second faster this time and you moan unabashedly.

"f-fuck-" she starts up a rhythm, pulling out of you, then pushing back in, each time a second faster than the last.

you rub your clit, faster, harder, pulling on your nipple, switching to the other one to make sure both were attended to, you've never been built up this quickly. even when you were masturbating you had taken her advice and teased yourself for at least an hour before you got anywhere close to cumming.

you crave her, eyes lidded watching the way the veins in her arms become a little more visible when she thrusts in a little harder. you can hear the examination table shaking under you, you can't keep still at all, trying to meet her on each thrust, the tools and materials clattering about loudly. the possibility that someone could hear you outside flies across your mind but you can barely give it a second thought, in fact, it turns you on even more knowing that you were getting fucked by the most gorgeous doctor that you've been obsessed with the last fortnight, and on the other side of the door everyone was just going about their regular days, having no idea the heights of pleasure she was bringing you to.

"o-oh s-sana oh my god- holy fuck-"

"hmm? good?"

"yes yes so good- oh my god you feel so good inside me i'm gonna- oh fuck-"

"do you mind if i..."

you look down at her, vision a little blurry but you can tell she's asking to do something, "yes yes oh god- whatever- you can do whatever you want to me- oh fuck-"

you feel a soft hand come to rest on your stomach, sliding down to just a little below your belly button, and then it presses down just gently, "oh fuck!" your hips jolt upwards, pleasure running up your spine.

sana stops the pressure but keeps her hand on your lower stomach, "was that okay?"

"god yes- oh sana you're gonna make me cum please-"

so she presses down again, a little harder this time, and you feel the coil in you snap, white enroaching your vision, your thighs shaking, head tilted back, a high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth, feeling completely breathless.

sana waits for you to come down patiently, helping you through your orgasm, continuing her thrusts into your cunt but slower and much gentler.

eventually, you feel your back and hips meet the surface of the examination table under you again, breathing heavily and opening your eyes slowly.

sana's moved next to you, brushing strands of hair out of your face, you preen into her touch. but the next thing she does has you clenching tightly around the dildo that's still inside you. she brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in and making a show of wrapping her tongue around them. "exquisite."

you blush, clenching your thighs together at the sight.

she gives you a slow once-over again, before exhaling shakily and turning away, moving to the sink to clean up a little. you struggle a little to sit up, still recovering from your mind-shaking orgasm, and you're about to pull the dildo out of you when she speaks up again, still with her back turned to you.

"keep it inside you. that'll be your homework task for the next fortnight until our next session." she turns around, seeming to have collected herself a little better, her eyes fixed only on your face, purposely avoiding the rest of your body.

you sluggishly start to clean yourself up, wincing a little each time you accidentally move the dildo inside you.

"so you are able to come from penetration, you don't have to worry about that. and it's normal that you need some clitoral or other stimulation to be able to orgasm, often just penetration isn't enough. for the next fortnight i want you to continue masturbating, but i want you to practice leaving a dildo inside yourself afterwards, so your vaginal muscles get used to the feeling of something being inside. you can slowly work your way up the sizes, just don't push yourself and make sure you stop if it starts becoming too painful."

you nod, trying to bring your breathing back to a normal pace while you slip your clothes back on.

"alright. were there any other concerns you wanted to talk about?"

you shake your head, coming to a stand.

"okay. you can make the next appointment with the receptionist out front. i'll see you in 2 weeks y/n."

you nod, again, walking out the door when she opens it for you, but turning back before she can close it catching her a little by surprise, "thank you sana. i look forward to seeing you again soon." your voice is still a little scratchy but sana blushes, pursing her lips and nodding, closing the door after you.

you sigh a little dreamily, feeling more blissed out than you've been in a long time.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this continues between the two of you for a few months.

you loved teasing sana and getting her out of her professional state. once you had worn lingerie under your coat to see her. you laugh remembering the way her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as soon as you took off your coat when you were in the privacy of her office. you'd let her fuck you however she wanted, and then you'd use each new experience to get you off during the fortnight that she'd give you new exercises, all increasing in intensity to help build you up to being able to take an average sized penis.

your favourite one to think about was that week that ben started complaining about how you'd been seeing sana for so long that surely you'd be able to take him by now. he insisted on coming to your next appointment but he was forced to sit outside and wait for you. little did he know you were on the other side of the door, a hand clamped over your mouth, the other holding you up against the door with your breasts pressed against it while sana railed into you from behind. of course she kept harnesses in her office. she had said they were mainly there for educational purposes, to show people how to put one on properly so it was safe and wasn't hurting anyone, it was just an added benefit that she also used them to pound into you with increasing dildo sizes each fortnight.

you lean onto your elbows while you watch her wash off the dildo she had just used on you. it was the biggest one yet and you're still fluttering a little remembering the way it filled you up while you rode her.

"what?" she turns around, drying off the dildo and slipping it back into your bag, pulling her shirt back on.

"just think you're nice to look at."

she rolls her eyes playfully, "shut up y/n."

you wiggle your eyebrows, "make me."

she glances at you, narrowing her eyes a little but making no effort to move closer, "as if you could go another round. you came so hard just then."

you giggle and sigh in satisfaction, resting your cheek on a hand, "i did. you're so good at what you do."

sana hums, finishing getting dressed and looking semi-presentable, settling back into her seat, but her expression changes a little while she studies you.

"what's up?"

"... have you tried having sex again with your boyfriend?"

"i told you i haven't."

she hums again, mind drifting elsewhere and you shrug, sitting up and starting to clean yourself up. "you can try now y'know? you were able to take that dildo and that's pretty much the average size of a penis already. unless he's bigger than that...?"

you scoff, shuffling into your pants, "no. he's actually smaller than the one you just used on me."

"then you should try having sex again."

you pull your shirt over your head, thinking over what she's saying. instead of sitting down in your own seat you climb into her lap, her arms wrapping around you automatically, hands gripping your waist while you make yourself comfortable. "doesn't that mean i won't be able to see you anymore?"

sana chuckles a little emptily, "i'm your sex therapist y/n. you knew this was going to end eventually."

"yeah but you don't fuck your other clients do you?"

sana laughs then, you feast in the sound. "no, no i don't."

"good. i was actually thinking..."

"hm?" she brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing slightly.

"would you... i don't know... like... i think about you when i get off yeah but i also think about you like... all the time..."

"mhm."

"so i was wondering if... i don't know if you felt the same if you wanted to like hang out outside of here? and like i don't mean to have sex i mean like go on a date maybe...?" you're shy, bringing this question up, blushing and avoiding her eyes.

"you have a boyfriend y/n." she deadpans.

"well yeah but i was thinking of breaking up with him anyway. now that you're bringing up having sex with him again i don't want that, and i don't want to stop seeing you. i guess just- just the threat that this all might be over soon- well i don't want it to be over. i like you sana." you say a little more firmly this time, meeting her eyes with decisiveness.

sana smiles then, all eyes, leaning in to peck you gently, "come back in a fortnight and we'll see. if you're no longer with him then... maaaybe i'll let you take me out."

your eyes brighten at her response, jumping out of her lap with excitement, "really?! oh my god i'll call him right now and do it-" you're reaching for your phone in your bag when she laughs, pulling you back into her

"don't do it over the phone silly. not even he deserves that."

you pout a little but it’s quickly wiped away when sana kisses you, lips slotting perfectly against yours with practiced ease. you sigh into her, addicted to the feeling, the taste, the smell of her. it was probably the easiest decision of your life, choosing your sex therapist over your boyfriend.

#sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana smut #twice smut #sana imagines #twice imagines #twice sana x reader #twice sana smut #dovveri

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ecg0 · 2 years

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jeonsweetpea · 3 months

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The Moon Knows Our Secrets (1)

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 9.1k

warnings: blood, blood-drinking, one injury, flirting, TXT is mentioned and they’re horny brats but protective!JK swoops in, ANGST, mentions of compulsion, past deaths, JK smokes for like, one second, fire, resentment, but trust me, they will fall for each other all over again, two-shot 💖

smut warnings: OC goes into HEAT at the worst time, kissing, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, (more intense smut to come in part 2)

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). I love this couple and they deserve their (steamy) happy ending. They both embody the “right person, wrong place.”

Part 1 | Part 2 |

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me. I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely. If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me. When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me. You’ll remember then. I love you, Jungkook.��

You first saw him again at a wedding.

When you arrive at the venue, your eyes scan the sea of strangers for him like an automated response. You clutch onto the chain of your purse, the tight squeeze in your chest never seeming to disappear. Once you’re sure of his absence, the tension in your shoulders fades.

Round tables are arranged around a central dance floor, so you sit at the closest one, joining in the crowd’s applause despite not knowing what’s happening. The happy couple is swaying to romantic jazz music played by the live band, their adoring smiles perfectly matched.

“What did I miss?”

Your old classmate chuckles when she notices your presence, using her fingers to count as she lists off her answers. “The ring bearer, flower girl, the da-da-da-da piano introduction, the vows, the kiss, the first dance—so pretty much everything. Surprised to see you here.”

So are you. It took you hours of hyping yourself up before deciding to attend. You never RSVP-ed properly, allocating all your time to getting ready instead. Not that you had anyone to impress, but it’s a wedding. Sweatpants weren’t going to cut it.

“Can everyone please have a seat? We’re going to hear the best man give his speech!” That authoritative voice belonged to Kim Namjoon, the headmaster of BTSU (Be The Supernatural University). His dimple smile emerges when he notices you and he waves excitedly, dropping the microphone in the process.

You giggle. “See? I didn’t miss everything, Lia.”

She hands you a glass of champagne, then clinks the glass against your own. “Okay, Ms. Fashionably Late. At least you look hot.”

The guests take their seats while the couple sits at the head table near the dance floor. There’s a small stage next to them and on it is a microphone stand under a beautifully decorated archway. A blanket of silence washes over the crowd as anticipation rises, but the best man is nowhere to be found. Murmurs spread quickly as heads turn in confusion.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

You don’t have to look to know who that voice belonged to. The glass in your hand trembles, on the brink of shattering under your tightening grip. Your mouth parts open in shock, your heart rate beating so loudly that it rings in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd’s applause as the so-called best man gets on stage.

Jeon Jungkook — your ex-boyfriend.

Could you even call him your ex? Your history was, in a word, complicated. Boyfriend and girlfriend weren’t labels you two were fortunate enough to share. Bound by trauma, forced into despair, crippled with pain — the “relationship” in question was toxic.

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me…”

A hybrid had many advantages — compulsion included. With one look, you ordered him to forget having loved you and then left. Traveling the world healed you and the thought of returning to your college campus never once crossed your mind until a year later.

Your old professor sent you a text — a wedding invitation to be specific. Though the gesture was sweet, you preferred staying blissfully ignorant. You almost deleted it. However, F.O.M.O was a crippling feeling, so you ultimately gave in.

You were aware the chances of running into Jungkook were high, but that’s why you arrived late on purpose. You had let your guard down too easily, assuming he might’ve left early or not bother showing up at all. What a fool.

The fairy lights strung across the venue illuminate him with a gorgeous golden glow as he steps onto the stage. You hold your breath as the world seems to slow down, taking in his features.

His hair used to be longer and shaggier; you teased him for having a mop-head back then (lovingly). Now it’s half long, with shaved sides and a slight mullet. He wore a simple white shirt, layered with a classic black blazer and matching dress pants. Several square box chains surrounded his neck, complimenting his silver hoop earrings and lip ring (when did he get that?). His accessories sparkle under the lights, almost blinding, as if he were a living filter.

Damn. He’s only gotten more gorgeous.

Jungkook quickly adjusts the microphone stand to his height, then presents a bunny-tooth grin. “Hello everyone! Sorry, I’m late. I had forgotten my script.” He shakes the index cards in his hands gently, causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. “It’s an honor being both Hoseok and Yoongi’s best man.”

Jung Hoseok was your old classmate, who used to be the alpha of the werewolf pack senior year. But then along came Jungkook, who stole the title from beneath him after challenging him to a duel. Funny how he is now his best man.

Min Yoongi was the one who invited you, a research assistant at your university. If you had to describe him in a phrase, it’d be: “Actions speak louder than words.” You knew his intentions when he sent the invitation, so you had to come and support him the same way he’s done for you.

Jungkook peers down at his script before placing a hand on the microphone.

“I’ve known Yoongi and Hoseok for years now and their love is truly special. They’re often private with their affection, but we know how they would go out of their way for each other. My favorite part is whenever Hoseok compliments Yoongi, he’d—”

“AaarrghhH!!!” The obnoxious scream is from Yoongi himself, who had stood up and faced away from the crowd. People crack up at his hilarity, including Hoseok who is clapping his hands like a seal.

“Yes. That. Exactly that,” Jungkook says, followed by a soft chuckle. “The two play off each other well. Hoseok brings joy to everyone and it’s infectious. I’ve never seen Yoongi happier than when he’s with Hoseok.”

Yoongi rubs the nape of his neck, a shy smile gracing his features as he sits back down. Hoseok places his head on his partner’s shoulders, sighing in content. Jungkook flips to the next index card and clears his throat.

“Yoongi and Hoseok are people I like from the bottom of my heart. They’re like family, and I’m so glad to be a part of their story. We were able to come to where we are right now because everybody was all together.” His lips tremble slightly as he holds the corners of the card with both hands, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. His head hangs low for a moment but then he looks up, forcing a smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m getting emotional.”

You almost shout it’s okay! but nothing comes out. Fortunately, a couple of folks blurt out comforting words that make him laugh as he quickly wipes his tears away. He rolls his shoulders back and blows a small raspberry with his lips to reset.

“These two have both helped me through so much. When I almost lost my life. When I lost my friends. When I wanted to give up on myself,” His eyes scanned across the venue as if simulating eye contact with each guest. “And especially when I experienced the biggest absence of my life with…”

His words are cut short at the same time your breath hitches. It’s a split second, but you’re sure. You’re sure his gaze fell on you, his expression stiffening slightly while you let out a silent gasp. The world seems to be at a standstill until he crumples the cards in his hand and tosses them aside. He lets out a half-hearted laugh, gesturing to the large projector screen he prepared earlier.

“Enough about me!” he exclaims. “I made a compilation of the couple’s best moments. Enjoy!”

You don’t pay attention to the video playing despite the roaring laughter from the crowd. Someone shouts something about the couple wearing colorful animal sheet masks, but your eyes are glued to Jungkook. He exits the stage, heading back to his group of friends at the table furthest from yours. They give him a pat on the back and he’s back to smiling as if nothing happened.

Was it your imagination? Maybe he wasn’t looking at you. You finish your champagne in one gulp, slamming the glass down without meaning to. The sharp sting in your palm makes you realize your actions as you groan, the deep cut across your hand oozing blood.

“[Y/N], are you okay? Oh my gosh, here.” Lia is quick to grab the cloth napkin, wrapping it around your hand and tying a knot.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll heal anyway.”

“Still, how did this even happen? What’s got you so tense?”

You say nothing, but she follows your line of sight and purses her lips. “Are you looking at the wolves? Is it Jungkook?”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m gonna go to the restroom and wash the blood off.”

Before she can interrogate you further, you make a break for it. It was difficult walking in your nude heels, each step feeling like you were sinking deeper into the grass. The fairy lights help you see in the dark as you pass by the greenery of the garden, the flowers being your favorite part. You’d stop to smell them but didn’t want the blood to stain their lovely petals. Your feet finally reach a cobblestone path and you see the restroom building up ahead.

There’s a handwashing sink outside. Once you turn on the faucet, you unwrap the cloth around your hand and wash the excess blood away. The cut had partially healed already — another perk of hybrid blood — but it still felt nice.

You find yourself lost in thought as the cool water flows onto your hands. You tell yourself there’s no way Jungkook was looking at you. He doesn’t even know you. At least, not in the way he used to.

“I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely.”

Ah. Right. You’ve been reduced to a mere stranger now. The depressing reality makes you sigh as you turn off the water.

That’s when you hear it. Footsteps. Heavy ones that grow louder from behind you. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn around.

Jungkook is approaching you, his stride long and confident. Your brain must have been rewired to put him in slow motion because he’s like a model walking down a runway. You can’t believe your eyes and are torn between running away or staying put. He’s closer now. Your heart skips a beat, the anticipation crushing you. Stay put it is.

“If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me.”

Yet here he is. Approaching you. Had the compulsion not worked on him? Did he remember you all this time? Well, your answer comes when he walks right by you without sparing a glance as he enters the men’s restroom. You blink a few times, stunned by what took place.

Well, that proves it; the compulsion was still effective. You look at the bloody napkin in your hand, clutching it tightly.

“What, is he blind? He didn’t even ask if I was okay. This is a huge red flag, literally!” You wave the fabric around like a crazed woman, having half a mind to chuck it across the building. After sulking for a minute, you compose yourself and prepare to head back.

That’s when an unpleasant smell creeps its way into your nose. It’s harsh, like the smell of acetone and burnt wood, and you cough uncontrollably. The acrid fumes are suffocating as you wander around the restrooms for the smell.

“It’s coming from the men’s side…” you mumble to yourself.

“When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.”

Ignore it. It’s not your business. Yet your feet are already stomping inside, where your ex jolts in alarm at your sudden presence.

“Hey, just because you’re a hybrid doesn’t mean smoking is okay!” The cigarette dangles from his mouth when his lips part in a small “o” shape, seconds from falling. You swipe it from him, drop it on the ground, and crush it under your heel. His doe eyes are larger than before, but your actions render him speechless. “It’s a gross habit and causes bad breath. So… yeah. Don’t smoke. Even if you’re practically immortal it’s not good for you.”

You spin around and close your eyes, cringing at your meddlesome behavior. You should leave before things escalate.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes flutter open. He must think you’re deranged! “Your hand… is that blood?”

You look down, noticing the cloth in your hand was no longer white, but a deep crimson that seemed to permeate nonstop.

“Oh, this is nothing. It’ll heal soon.”

He circles and gets in front of you, holding out his hand. “May I take a look?”

Whatever compels you to give your hand to him is a mystery, but you do it. He removes the cloth first, then inspects your palm, concern etched in his features. Blood continues to ooze out of the gash, but all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand enveloping your cold one. It reminds you of holding a hot cup of coffee in the morning except in this case, your cortisol levels are spiking.

“It’s not good for you, you know,” he says with a soft smile. He directs his gaze from his hand to your own. “Getting cuts on such pretty hands. Who did this to you?”

If you had a brain, you didn’t anymore. You feel it short-circuiting, the hints of protectiveness in his voice setting sirens off in your mind. “No one… I accidentally broke a glass.”

It comes out as a whisper, but he acknowledges your response with a gentle “hmm.”

“This won’t do. It’s not healing fast enough,” His eyes shift up to meet your own. “You’re practically dripping in my hand.”

How can he say such things to you with such a straight face? The double entendre is blatant, but calling him out for it would only expose your impure thoughts.

“Shall I clean you up?” You don’t miss how he says “you” and not “it.” His irises glow a ruby red, matching his blood-shot sclera. Protruding veins appear under his eyes as he opens his mouth wide enough to exhibit his sharp fangs. It’s a hauntingly beautiful sight.

“That’s okay, you don’t—you don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to. Besides… I was smoking to curb my cravings. You took that away, so I need something else to satisfy me.”

You gulp. “And you think my blood will do that?”

He flashes you a smirk. “I’d like to find out. If you’ll let me.”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember. Right?

You agree with a soft “okay” and Jungkook doesn’t hold back. He sticks his tongue out, licking up the blood that overflowed onto his thumb first before following the stream up to your palm. He presses his lips onto the gash and sucks, earning a small gasp from you. This catches his attention, and he stares at you. His pupils are dilated, the primal look in his gaze so enrapturing.

The pit of your stomach is on fire as he continues feeding from the palm of your hand. His tongue comes out to play, swiping back and forth, leaving no spot untouched. It tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle.

Then he moans. It’s low at first, but then he closes his eyes and does it again. This time it’s more guttural, and he presses harder against you like he was starved.

“Ow,” you say, wincing when his fangs pierce your skin. It coaxes more blood to come out, and he visibly shudders.

“Sorry, I—Fuck,” His breath is uneven as he pants, drunk on your taste. He furrowed his eyebrows like he was mad, fighting against his primal urges to devour you whole. “I’ll be more careful. Please let me finish, please.”

Oh my god. He’s begging you. It’s too adorable to resist. He opens his eyes when you don’t reply, and you quickly give him your consent. His technique, if you can even call it that, grows sloppy as he rushes to clean up the mess he made. It’s like he was embarrassed, which makes your heart grow fonder.

Once he finishes, his lips come together and make a loud smooching sound. He kisses the spot once again, lovingly, and then pulls away. You’re shocked to see the cut is no longer there.

“Delicious. Sweet, with a hint of spice.”

You’re flattered by the handsome blood sommelier but retract your hand, hiding it behind your back while clearing your throat.

“Um… Thank you.” That sounded more lame out loud than in your head, but nothing else seemed appropriate.

Jungkook rubs the excess blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb. “It was my pleasure.” He sucks it and then releases his thumb with a loud pop.

Discomfort washes over you with how quiet the restroom gets, but you don’t break the silence. Instead, you turn around and head for the exit.

“You’re [Y/N], right?” Three steps. That’s how far you got. “We were in the same year together.”

You grab onto the chain of your purse again. “Yeah. We were.”

And you leave it at that.

You walk around to ease the buried feelings threatening to bubble up to the surface. Aside from the reception in the garden, the rest of the campus is quiet. Not a single light is on from the buildings you pass, your heels following the moonlight instead.

You pass the library, the gym, and the fine arts hall, but your steps halt at the girls’ dormitory. Memories flood your mind one by one: decorating your room, staying up late studying for exams, and the time when Jungkook slept over and—no. Shit. Don’t think about a love that’s lost.

A weighted sigh comes as you sit on the steps, giving your feet a much-deserved break. You hug your knees, tuck your head down, and rest it in your folded arms as if you wanted to hide from the world. Why the hell did you think coming here would be easy?

His touch lingers in your mind as you replay the moment. The way he held your hand, the way he was concerned for your well-being, and the way he fed off your blood was far more intimate than you expected. Then he said your name.

It ignited a yearning you thought you had suppressed.

“I should leave…” you say out loud to no one in particular.

“And miss the group picture?”

You lift your head slowly like you were caught red-handed committing a heinous crime. You’re greeted by pointed black dress shoes, black dress pants, a white shirt and black blazer, silver necklaces, and soft doe eyes that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Jungkook…”

His eyes light up, a tinge of rouge dancing across his cheeks as he slips his hands into his pockets. “So you do remember me.”

How could I ever forget? “Well yeah… we were in the same year together.”

He scrunches his nose, amused at your usage of his past words. “That’s it? We were sparring partners, we went on missions together, and I’m pretty sure you saved my life by turning me into a hybrid,” Your jaw falls to the ground while his lips curve into a playful grin. “Ring a bell?”

The logistics of your compulsion weren’t specific as to how much Jungkook would remember. Then again, you didn’t erase his memory of your existence, so it’s natural he would remember some basic things.

“Wow, you have a good memory. Um… yeah, I guess that covers the extent of our relationship.”

He quirks his eyebrow, sounding far too happy for your liking as he says, “We… have a relationship?”

You put your hands out in a stop motion and shake them in a panic. “No! Not at all. I–I meant that’s all we are to each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Just old classmates.”

“I see. What a shame though. I feel like we would have… should have gotten to know each other more back then.”

His voice has a trace of longing, but you dismiss it for friendly conversation. “Really? I was too focused on my studies anyway. You wouldn’t have liked me.”

He nods. “Considering how you stomped out my cigarette? Yeah, probably not.”

You scoff, a playful glint in your eyes. “Excuse me for looking out for you.”

“Never asked you to, but I’ll admit, I enjoy the attention.” You both laugh and then he extends his hand out to you. “Come on. Let’s go take the group picture together.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m not fond of pictures. Yoongi and Hobi don’t even know I’m here, so it’s not like they’ll notice.”

“I’ll notice,” You stare at him, watching his smile fade and how serious his demeanor becomes. “Your absence is significant, especially to those who care about you. They’ll remember it for the rest of their lives.”

You are about to speak when he adds, “Besides, the formation is off and we need one more person to fill in the gap.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his hand away and stand. “Alright, I get it. Let’s go.”

He smiles, puts his hands back in his pockets, and leads the way back. You follow him to the garden where guests are lined up in neat, staggered rows. Most of them have their arms crossed, some tapping their feet anxiously, while the rest have their hands on their hips. Even the main couple in the front row are mouthing words you can’t hear, but the way Yoongi slaps a hand to his forehead makes you aware of his distress.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts with a jump, pointing his finger in your direction. “They’re here!”

Everyone expresses their relief with a “thank goodness” or “about time” as you and Jungkook make your way over.

“You found her!” Namjoon says, holding up his hand for a high-five. Jungkook walks by too fast to notice, so you high-five him to ease his embarrassment.

“Wow, is that [Y/N]? You look incredible.” The man next to Namjoon gives you two thumbs up and you smile at the compliment.

“Jin…” You can’t help but hug him tight and he reciprocates. Kim Seokjin aka Jin was the head witch on campus and counselor. You’ve confided in him for years and seeing him again almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Yoongi pats Jin’s back, a signal to release his hold on you. You laugh and then embrace him next, earning an obnoxious groan, but the fond smile on his face shows his true emotions. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me.”

You stop hugging him to see Hoseok with his arms out already, his heart-shaped grin wide.

“Come here~,” You let out an “oof” sound from how tight he squeezes you. “We had no idea you were here! Jungkook convinced the cameraman to wait until he found you.”

You let him go and look over to Jungkook, who clears his throat as he looks off to the side. The apples of his cheeks are rosy, which you find endearing.

“Here, stand in the front row next to me,” Hoseok says, gesturing to the spot between him and Jungkook. Jungkook takes a large step to the right, allowing enough space for you to squeeze in.

“Alright, now that we finally have everyone here…” the cameraman says out loud, throwing a harsh glare in your direction. You give him a sheepish grin in return. “Everyone needs to scoot over to my left please.”

The crowd obeys, but the cameraman’s displeased frown remains. “Now everyone needs to squeeze closer together.”

There’s some shuffling and you bump into Hoseok after Jungkook’s shoulder bumps into yours.

“Sorry,” he whispers. You tell him it’s okay.

The cameraman crosses his arms. “Come on, you guys. Act like you like each other! Closer!”

Everyone scooches in again, but Jungkook’s hand brushes against yours. The touch is electrifying, and you forget how to breathe. You can’t process your emotions as the cameraman orders the guests on your side to turn their bodies inwards at an angle. Jungkook exhales and his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You feel your palms start to sweat.

“Three, two, one, smile!” You put on your most picture-perfect smile, the flash nearly blinding you. “One more! This time do a silly pose!”

You observe what others choose for their pose. Bunny ears are common, heart poses are also popular whether using arms or hands. Some stick their tongues out while others fake a dramatic gasp. You shift in your position when your heels betray you and you stumble backward.

As if on cue, a pair of arms catch you and you’re dipped like you’re in a dance class with Jungkook’s face peering down at you. His sweet cologne wafts into your nostrils, a nice blend of amber and rose. These moments only happen in movies — or so you think — yet he’s a fantasy that somehow becomes your reality.

The camera shutters and captures your deer-in-the-headlights expression and Jungkook’s, who mirrors after you. It makes the cameraman let out a hearty laugh, and he’s not sure who the real married couple is.

“Are you okay?”

You nod and he helps you regain stability. Your hand touches your face, feeling the heat radiating off your cheek. The cameraman dismisses everyone and your friends jump at the opportunity to hound you with questions.

Hoseok’s eager to go first. “Whatcha been up to, [Y/N]? It’s been so long since we’ve all been together.”

“Just traveling, not much,” you reply, forcing the muscles in your mouth to cooperate into a believable smile.

“Hey, that’s her business. Don’t be nosy,” Namjoon interjects. Yoongi and Jin give each other a knowing look.

“You’re just saying that because she communicates with you the most,” Jin teases.

“I mean, I was her mentor… can’t help it if I’m her favorite.” He pats his puffed-out chest twice, proud as he winks at you. You giggle and Yoongi joins in the conversation.

“Okay, if anyone’s her favorite, it’s actually me. But anyway,” he tilts his head towards the bar, “help yourself to a drink.”

“Ooh, I will. Do you have any recommendations?” you ask.

“Do you want something strong? Fruity?”

“Get her what Jungkook got,” Namjoon says. Jungkook stands off to the side, his jaw clenches at his name being mentioned. “You like peach-flavored things, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Because he told me…” He notices the group shooting glares at him like daggers. It reminds you of when an idol spoils their next comeback by accident. “... Told me it was delicious and that anyone would like it. It goes down smoothly. Very yummy. Hah. Hahaha! Is that a saxophone?”

He leaves the group in a hurry with Jin chasing after him yelling, “No! Leave the sax alone! I’m not paying for damages!”

Awkward glances are exchanged between Hoseok and Yoongi, a silent two-player game of telepathy you weren’t a part of. You can’t compel Hoseok, but Yoongi’s human. One look and you’d know what he was thinking, but that’d be highly inappropriate to do that to the groom at his wedding.

“I’ll order my own,” you tell the couple and they wave goodbye. Jungkook’s already retreated to his friends, much to your relief.

Once you’re at the outdoor bar, your mood lifts upon seeing the bartender. She puts down the glass she was drying and rests her hands on the countertop.

“Well if it isn’t the original hybrid queen herself.”

The bartender is young, her oval face and sharp jawline giving her a cute, handsome aura. Her hair is short, about shoulder-length, and straight. Her eyes are large, emphasized by her dramatic makeup to draw you in until you’re lost in them.

“Hi, Ryujin. Wow, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She had a white shirt underneath her black vest; you think it suits her tom-boyish charms well.

“Since vampire ability class, I know. What can I get you, beautiful?”

The smirk she sends you has your nerves sparking, and the palms of your hands sweaty. It was different when a girl complimented you. It felt more believable, flattering even.

You shrug in response to maintain a calm demeanor. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe something fruity? Citrusy?”

She nods, grabbing a shaker and a bottle of liquor under the counter straight away. You watch as she juggles the two items in the air, covering your mouth at the thought of gravity ruining her trick. However, she caught them both with ease, moving at such a fast speed as she concocted your beverage. It’s an elegant performance, her movements fluid like it’s an art. She finishes by topping off your glass with an orange slice.

“Here you go,” She slides the glittery pink drink over, and you take a sip, allowing the fruity taste to coat your tongue. “Matches your dress.”

You smile at the thoughtful gesture. “It’s good. Tastes like peaches and grapefruit. What’s it called?”

“It’s something I came up with. I wouldn’t mind sharing the recipe with you after the event’s over.”

You don’t miss the flirty tone in her words and can only laugh. She was so refreshing and has always stuck up for you in the past when others called you stuck-up for being a hybrid. Who knew she would end up flirting with you at a wedding years later?

“So? What do you say?” she asks, her eyes brimming with hope. You take another drink and finish the whole thing despite your shaky hands. She gives you a fond smile. “If I’m being too forward, tell me.”

“No, I’m just nervous,” you blurt out, setting the glass down. “You’re really pretty.”

“Is that so?”

You’re about to respond when you feel your temperature rise. You clasp a hand to your forehead, which goes from warm to scalding in seconds. Sweat beads form around your temples as your breathing becomes harsher. You rest your elbow on the counter to keep yourself balanced, but your legs are burning too. It was like someone lit a torch from beneath you, cooking your flesh inside out.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Ryujin asks. You shake your head and your vision blurs, the lights behind her looking like a bokeh image. She hands a bottle of water to you, and you gulp it down, yet the fever persists and you feel worse.

Ryujin sees your eyes widen in alarm as you peer down at your dress. She inspects it too, but doesn’t see anything abnormal. You rub your thighs together.

“Fuck… I think I’m in heat,” you tell her. Your hand rummages through your purse and then you curse again, frustrated. “I’m out of suppressants!”

Ryujin snaps her fingers when a lightbulb goes off in her head. “Ask Lia.”

“Good idea.”

You blink to wet your eyes, regaining clarity of your surroundings before heading to Lia on the dance floor. She was all smiles with a guy until you bumped into her, your darn heels being the bane of your existence.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” you quickly say, “I need your help.”

She takes one look, excuses herself, and brings you to a quieter space. Her hand reaches into her clutch and pulls out a lace handkerchief, dabbing the sweat off your forehead. Her touch is gentle and she asks quietly, “Are you in heat?”

Lia and Ryujin were best friends. Your sole encounters with her were because of Ryujin by extension, but even back then, you knew she was sweet. Wolves often looked down upon her because of her doll-like, docile appearance. However, she had enough balls to find friends in other cliques and was, what people say, a girl’s girl.

“Yes, I feel like I’m dying. Ryujin told me to ask if you have suppressants.”

“I don’t. Do you not track your cycle?”

“I’m a hybrid! It’s random for me!”

She grimaces, the pity in her eyes inevitable. “I’m sorry, I forgot. But you need to get out of here. Do you know how many horny young wolves are here with zero self-restraint?”

You shift your weight and a pool of discharge releases in your panties, the sticky sensation making you cringe. Lia brings out a travel-sized perfume spray and spritzes your entire body. A wheeze is forced out of you from the potent floral scent, but at least it will cover your pheromones long enough for a distraction.

“Hey everyone! The fireworks are starting soon, let’s go to the front of the school and watch!” Hoseok has his hands cupped around his mouth to carry his voice through the venue, catching the attention of all guests. Lia holds both your hands, looking you dead in the eye with a straight face.

“There. Use this time to find suppressants or get out of here. The perfume won’t last very long.”

“Thanks, Lia, I will.”

While the crowd heads towards the front, you rush back to the restroom building. You’re a panting mess once inside, but you go into a stall, shut it, and pull down your undergarment. The fabric is soaked in slick and has a hefty weight—you have no choice but to discard it.

Grabbing toilet paper, you clean yourself up as best as you can. Then you step out, wash your hands, and exit the building.

“Hey there.” You almost topple backward from the sudden intrusion. Three guys are in front of you, all wearing the same, smug grin. They’re young, probably younger than you, but one thing’s for sure—they’re werewolves.

There’s a particular scent that emits from wolves. It’s earthy, like a pine tree, and you’d usually find it comforting but now? Fear crawls up your spine like a spider has latched onto you, its legs creeping up your back in a spot you can’t smack away.

The one in the middle had greeted you first. He has a youthful face, and sculpted cheekbones, which are easy on the eyes. Speaking of, that was his most striking feature. They are almost cat-like (ironically) with how wide and long they are.

“Are you lost? Everyone’s watching the fireworks,” he says, his thumb hiked over his shoulder. You don’t respond. “Ah, I’m Yeonjun. This is Beomgyu and that’s Soobin.”

Soobin is the tallest. He shows off his dimple smile upon being introduced, which seems pure, but the way his irises shifted to goldenrod says otherwise. Beomgyu, on the other hand, had the most innocent baby face you’ve ever seen. However, you don’t miss the way he licks his lips while giving you a once-over.

“I’m [Y/N]...” You don’t know why you give them your name, but it slips out. Maybe you hoped playing along would lead them to spare you.

“Oh!” Soobin says, his index finger pointing up at the discovery. “You’re the original hybrid the professors rave about!”

“Half-vampire, half-werewolf, right?” Beomgyu asks. Your double moon necklace glows as you form your fingers into a claw shape behind your back. A small flame ignites and you hold it there, waiting for the right opportunity.

“Yeah. I guess,” you say. “Why don’t you boys go watch the fireworks? I’ll catch up.”

“Nonsense! As gentlemen, we should escort you. Unless… you’d rather do something else. Here. Now.” Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, but you scowl in response.

“No thanks.”

Soobin takes a step forward. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

Beomgyu takes two. “I’m sure the three of us can be of use to you.”

It’s not until Yeonjun approaches you that you cower, stepping backward until you’re stopped by the water fountains. “No need to be shy. No one’s around.”

Your blood is boiling, though you’re not sure if it’s from your heat or rage. What’s worse is you’re not mad at them; you’re mad at yourself. Their words spurred you on as arousal drips down your thighs, a sign of your body’s betrayal. You fear if this escalates, they’ll figure out you’re not wearing anything underneath.

“Get. Back.” You reveal the burning flame in your palm, the heat emanating off of it close enough to Yeonjun’s face. He jumps back and places a hand on his chest.

“Whoa! She’s feisty. Or should I say… fiery.”

“Maybe we should head back. She can do magic. I thought hybrids don’t know magic,” Soobin whispers. Yeonjun laughs at the ridiculous suggestion, shoving his friend for his cowardice as Beomgyu inspects him for injuries.

“Doesn’t matter. Look at her state now.” He points in your direction, seeing how you’re barely able to stand. Your breaths are quick, shallow and your heart is thumping around like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage. The fire in your hand diminishes to a mere flicker, and then it’s out. You try to bring it back with the flick of a wrist, but all that emits are tiny sparks. Shit. I haven’t been practicing long enough.

Your womanhood is craving something, anything to alleviate the agony. It’s screaming for release, and you hold your abdomen as a sudden cramp pains you horribly. Human females experience this type of thing monthly and you have to hand it to them. This type of pain requires endurance and fucking sucks.

You fall onto all fours, clutching your heart which is seconds away from bursting. It’s beating so loud, you can’t even hear the vulgar things the youngins are saying as they rush over. Soobin grabs your right arm; Yeonjun has the other.

You thrash in their clutches, but they only mock you with their boisterous laughter as they force you to your feet.

“Hey, hey! We’re just trying to help,” Soobin says.

“Unless you’d rather be on all fours,” Yeonjun teases. Beomgyu bends down to your eye level, a crooked smile on his dainty face, the true embodiment of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“You’re pure temptation, you know that?” He leans close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Give up. Don’t put up a fight.”

“I don’t consent,” you say, a harsh bite in your words.

Soobin squeezes your arm, almost crushing it in his large hands. “Why? Is it because we’re young?”

“It’s clear you’re horny… we are too. Come on,” Beomgyu pleads. “We’ll take good care of you. Teach us what you like.”

“Yeah. And we’ll do the same.” Yeonjun holds your hand, inspecting it closely. “So soft. I bet your hand would feel so good around my—“

“Get your hands off her before I bite them off.”

Dizziness overwhelms you, so all you see is a blurry figure behind Beomgyu, and you shake your head to come to your senses. Once the man’s face comes into focus, relief washes over you, sending signals for your brain to let down your guard. The energy you so desperately clung to has depleted, so you close your eyes as your limbs turn into jelly.

Five seconds pass and the boys’ hold on you is gone. Someone else catches you before you faint, his scent familiar and comforting.

“I got you,” he says as he lets you lean against his body.

“Jungkook…”

“Can you stand?” You don’t know but nod anyway. “Good. Get behind me. You don’t want to see this.”

His broad back shields you from the three wolves, so you don’t even see the damage he inflicted upon them. Yeonjun was thrown into a tree a hundred feet away, the impact so potent that it split in half. Soobin and Beomgyu were fortunate not to collide into anything after being catapulted… except for each other.

Soobin lands on top of Beomgyu and the smaller boy groans, pushing him off in a huff. He stands first and helps Soobin after.

“Hey, we didn’t do anything wrong!” Yeonjun shouts as he scrambles to his feet, flaring his nostrils. “You and I both know she’s a bitch in heat!”

You cling onto Jungkook’s blazer, and he looks over his shoulder.

“Is he right?” You don’t know if he asks to be polite because even you can smell your essence leaking. You hide your face in his back, flustered, but he feels you nod.

He redirects his attention back to the wolves. “That doesn’t give you the right to touch her. I suggest you leave before I make it physically impossible.”

Soobin scoffs while Beomgyu rolls his eyes. Yeonjun’s fuse was already lit and Jungkook’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears. You hear him crack his knuckles, the silence that follows deafening as you hold your breath in anticipation.

“It’s three against two. Well, three against one, really,” Soobin says, laughing like he’s already won.

“All I see is three smooth-brained pups who are pissing me off.” Jungkook’s eyes shift to a fiery goldenrod, the corner of his lips twitching as he smirks. “You’re aware that [Y/N] isn’t the only hybrid… right?”

You don’t see it, but their faces pale in comparison to earlier. Beomgyu covers his mouth, Soobin’s eyes widen, and Yeonjun growls.

“There were rumors about more than one hybrid existing, but I didn’t think they were true,” Beomgyu says in a hushed tone.

“She turned him? Fuck, they’re bonded then,” Soobin says. Yeonjun waves him off in a dismissive manner.

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s not marked. We can take them.”

Jungkook has his fists up and changes into a fighter stance, but he feels you press your forehead against his back. It’s a searing sensation that scorches him even through the two layers of fabric he had on. He turns around and holds you by the shoulders.

“Hey, stay with me,” he begs. Your head is lolling back and forth as if you were inebriated.

“It’s so hot… I’m too hot… I hate this, I hate this. Please… I need to cool down,” you beg. Jungkook takes a peek at the time on his watch, then bites his lower lip.

“Okay,” he whispers. “When I count to three, I need you to hold your breath. Can you do that for me?”

You mumble something Jungkook believes is a “yes” based on the beginning /y/ sound.

“Three… two…”— he looks up —“one!”

A firework shoots up into the night sky, painting it with an explosive rainbow of sparkles. You cover your sensitive ears, but make sure to hold your breath as Jungkook uses his enhanced speed to whisk you away. More fireworks go off, muffling your tracks and making the youngins work harder to find you.

However, Jungkook’s skills are unmatched. He sprints to the side of the school where the mountains are, and they follow suit. At the last second, he pivots and heads to the secluded area on the opposite side, where the lake is.

The last memory you had here was something you blocked out to spare your mental health. You had almost died. But now this place was going to save you, funny enough. If you think about it, the lake had more happy memories than bad. This was where Namjoon trained you before you trained Jungkook.

You can picture it now as if it was yesterday. He, a newly turned werewolf, scared of what’s to come in his new life, and you, the school prodigy who had a crush on him.

Jungkook jumps off the dock with you in his arms, the splash overshadowed by the firework’s detonation. The cool water refreshes your sweltering body as you close your eyes, submitting to it. For a moment you don’t care about anything. Not how your makeup is smeared, how your curls are undone, or how your dress is ruined.

You feel strong arms hold you close, and an overwhelming sense of longing hits you in the gut. God, you missed him so much. Even without his memories, he still cares for you. Hell, he went out of his way to protect you.

Just when your lungs are on the verge of giving out, you’re pulled up to the surface. Your eyes flutter open as you rub the water off your face. Jungkook coughs, then cups your face with both hands.

“Are you okay?”

You take in his appearance for what feels like an eternity. His brown eyes twinkle from the moonlight, so beautiful and full of worry. You find it amusing how his hair is stuck to his forehead, the strands partially obstructing his view. Your hand pushes it out of the way without thinking like muscle memory, causing his breath to hitch.

“Thanks to you.”

Fireworks are still going off in the distance, illuminating you two in the crystal-clear water. Jungkook slowly removes his hands from you.

“Good. I um… don’t hear them anymore. They must’ve left. And the water should keep your scent hidden for now.”

“That’s a relief.” Jungkook places the back of his hand against your forehead but retracts it quickly as if he touched a hot stove.

“Ow, oh my god. You’re still burning up!”

How naive were you to think it’d be over? You’ve experienced this once before, but that was with your first ex, who was at your beck and call for sex whenever you needed it. You couldn’t ask that of Jungkook. Not after everything that’s happened.

“I’ll figure something out. You’ve done a lot for me already and your clothes are wet.”

“I don’t give a damn about my clothes. Tell me how I can help you.”

*BOOM*

A red heart-shaped firework went off as you two stared at each other. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his luscious lips and he doesn’t miss it. Maybe you don’t want him to.

“Why do you want to help me? We… We’re not that close.”

“Well… the thing is… I-I just…” He is so freakin’ cute. You might die from how endearing he is before your heat destroys you first. “Because.”

“Because?”

*BOOM*

“Because it’s finally just you and me.”

His answer is simple. There shouldn’t be any underlying connotations and yet, it reminds you of a past conversation.

“We’re in this together. You and me. Okay?”

“Is it really you and me…”

“What do you mean?”

“Will it ever be? Just you and me?”

“Now tell me what you need. Use me.”

Your pussy is throbbing so much that it’s agonizing. You just need a quick release, then you’ll be sane enough to go home without collapsing.

“This feels…” So right, you think. “Wrong.”

His hands sneak around your waist. “Then let’s misbehave.”

He hoists you up onto the edge of the dock without warning as if you weigh nothing, and a grunt leaves his lips. It’s far too sexy to ignore, and your mind craves to hear it again. Then he places his hands on either side of your thighs and pulls himself up halfway out of the water, his face now directly in front of yours.

“Tell me what you need. How can I please you?”

Fuck. You bite your lower lip when you realize the dock isn’t that tall—he’s at the perfect height to carry out the desires you’ve been suppressing. “I need to come…”

A water droplet falls off his button nose when he chuckles. “How do you want to come?”

You stare at his lips, which are thin yet plump at the same time, his lower lip being the bigger half. You think back to earlier when he sucked your palm.

“I want you to eat me out…”

He moves fast, almost like he knew what you’d say. His grip on the dock loosens, and he plops back into the lake but grabs your ankles, pulling you forward until your bottom is perched on the very edge. He spreads your thighs and rests his head between them, looking up at you like you were worth the entire universe.

“Why don’t you lift your dress for me, gorgeous?”

You’re unsure what’s louder — the fireworks or your heart rate. If he keeps speaking to you in that low dialect, you may come right now. Your fingers bunch up the fabric at the hem and you slowly pull it up, exposing your pussy to his feasting eyes.

“Fuck, what a beautiful pussy.”

You take two fingers and glide it up your folds, coating it in your slick. Jungkook watches, unsure of what you are going to do next. You lean forward, cupping his face with your other hand with a naughty glint in your eyes.

“Open.” He obliges, and you stick your coated fingers in his mouth. A muffled groan comes out as he sucks your fingers, his tongue swirling around so nothing goes to waste. “Good boy.”

You remove your fingers and he’s practically drooling, his eyes a bit crazed from your addictive taste.

“Please let me pleasure you, please.”

You don’t answer and run a hand through his damp hair, stopping at the back to grip it tight as you guide his head closer to where you need him most. He peers up at you adoringly when you hold him an inch away.

“Please me then.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His tongue licks a stripe on your sopping cunt, earning a shudder from you. Your thighs squeeze his head like a reflex, which only spurs him on to press his mouth harder against you. He begins to lap up your juices like a dog and you throw your head back, moaning at how insanely good it felt.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer if possible, the tight hold giving him a tinge of pain that ignites his carnal desires. He slurps your pussy like it was his last meal on death row, slithering his arms underneath your knees and holding your thighs hostage. You don’t know which noise was most obscene—your moaning or Jungkook’s.

Sneaking your free hand down, you use your forefinger and middle finger to spread your pussy lips wider. Jungkook’s excited and sinks his tongue as deep as it would go. You’re impatient now, riding his face as he tongue-fucks you.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me, yes—oh god…” You don’t have it in you to say anything more coherent except for broken moans. Jungkook pauses for a second, and you whine at the loss of contact. Then you’re being stretched out as his two fingers submerge into you, nearly knocking the breath out of you.

You lean back on your forearms as he begins to piston them into you, your wetness making it easy—too easy even. They slip out when he speeds up, and he makes up for it by eating you out and sinking his fingers back in simultaneously.

You’re shaking, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Your back rests on the wooden planks as Jungkook flicks your clit with his tongue, his fingers drilling into you at a brutal speed and brushing your sweet spot.

You see the last of the fireworks show go off, a beautiful explosion of silver sparkles and stars, as your orgasm finally comes. You arch your back and scream, but Jungkook doesn’t slow down. He can feel how tight your walls are constricting around his fingers and knows you need a few more seconds of bliss to be fully satisfied.

Overstimulation was always a gamble. If pushed too far, you’d be in pain. But most of the time you welcome it. One second you want the pleasure to stop building, but then you crave that ache of clenching so hard until your body gives out.

Jungkook stops again. This time he pulls himself out of the water completely and hovers over your body. His fingers plunge into you again, his speed relentless, and you swear you’re seeing stars (or maybe that’s the fireworks who knows). Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you say his name like a mantra.

“Come for me, beautiful. I want you dripping in my hand again.”

Your eyes are wide when warm lips are pressed against your own. But you submit and savor it, having missed his touch. Combining that with the way he curls his fingers inside makes you squirt. Hard.

Your entire body convulses and you can’t even scream because Jungkook is determined to swallow them. The limitation only makes you come harder than before. Then again, you’re not sure if this is a second orgasm or a drawn-out first one.

The involuntary gushing is an indescribable sudden wave of pleasure. You feel so relieved from the release, pushed to tears at how good it felt. Jungkook pulls away a centimeter to let you breathe, and you submit to the foreign feeling.

Oh my god, he made me squirt. I didn’t even know that was possible.

He pulls his soaked fingers out and resumes kissing you, moving his lips in rhythm to yours. It’s so natural, almost like he’s done this before. Well, he has, but it felt so right. So loving. So… intimate.

You place a hand on his chest and give him a gentle push. He pulls back a little, a melancholy look passing his face.

“Will you stay?”

You can’t. He’s not supposed to be tangled up with you again. You erased his love for you for a reason; it wasn’t the right time. Any decisions made till now were because of your heat and your brain was finally back in command.

“I can’t.”

He caresses your cheek. “Why not?”

Because I’m not ready to love you the way you deserve. Because I love you so much that I’m afraid things will fall apart again.

“Because we don’t know each other,” You push him off you and stand, trying not to slip. Jungkook’s hands were already in position to catch you if you did. “Not really.”

As you walk away, he says something so chilling that it crystalizes your blood into ice. “You’re running away again.”

You refuse to turn around. “It’s my choice.”

“What about my choice and what I want? Do you not care?” He stands up and tightens his fists. “Are you leaving for good this time?”

This… time? He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember.

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

He watches as your figure grows smaller in the distance. His head hangs low and he fights back tears. You’ve made it clear what you want. He had to let you go.

A/N: I am currently writing part 2, don't worry! It's a long one, lol. This was also my first time writing in present tense. Loved it. I hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for giving my writing a chance. 🥰

#ggukienet #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #my scenarios

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