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themermaidsdragon · 1 year

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The Professor and the Soon-to-be Nurse

Warnings: Underage Sex, Age Difference, Teacher-Student Relationship, Oral Sex, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love

Summary:

Daisy was feeling so defeated...all her life she dreamed of finding love at Hogwarts and here she was in her last year of Hogwarts... single! and the cherry on top is she just found out her best friend is engaged! of course she is happy for her but she can't help but feel jealous! running off to cry in private who should comfort her but her favorite defense against the dark arts teacher Vernon Wells... or D.A.D.A for short. will they stay together even though her darling professor feels conflicted, or will daisy be left heartbroken once again?

Notes:

This is another guy added to our D&D anthology smut series. This will be the last one for now and like the rest we will update a new chapter for all the guys each weekend. With Adelia getting married in this one we left it vague enough for you to choose who she is marrying. Go read all of our other stories to choose. And again, thank you all for reading :) We love doing this and we expect to do this for quite a while especially the more guys that get introduced in our game!

Chapter 1: Is it D.A.DA or Daddy?

Daisy wakes up her 7th year feeling really down. This was her last year at Hogwarts. She was already halfway through the year, and what did she have to show for it? Yes she had good grades in all her classes, and yes, she knew what she wanted to do after school, but that wasn't it. She felt like she missed out on the relationship part.

Ughhh I mean Adelia has been with her man for like 3 years now! We are so close that she told me she lost her virginity at 16, yet here I am. Nothing. Haven’t lost my virginity and haven’t found a guy yet. I mean I have found the opportunity to sometimes, but it just never worked out. First there was Theo in the first year, but he turned out to be more like a brother. I’m sure he thought I didn’t find him attractive but that's not it. I genuinely just didn’t see him romantically. Plus, I ruined that friendship anyway, since I thought, he was lying to me about liking me because I knew he didn't like half-bloods, or so I thought. Then there was Justin in the third year, but he just was really into his studies, always wanting to just be around learning together, but I wasn't into that. I wanted to go out and explore and have fun. He was a Ravenclaw though so that makes sense. He came to me asking why it couldn’t work through and what was I supposed to say? So I was vague and just said it wouldn’t work. Then in the sixth year there was Calenhad. I just wasn’t looking for that relationship where the guy wants to act all mean and not express his true feelings and I have to fight to make him. Fuck that. Ughhhhh why are guys so complicated? Who am I kidding? Maybe I'm just being picky. I just want a solid man that will say what they want and actually want to be with me, and we both do things we want to do in life but are there for each other. Is that too much to ask?

Daisy snaps out of her thoughts when she hears her friend Adelia walk in.

“Hey Daisy!”

“Oh, hey Adelia what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to ask you a question in private.”

“Is everything okay, are you hurt? Do you need help with something?”

“Yes. No. And kindddaaa”. Adelia holds up her left hand and shows off a giant diamond ring to Daisy. “He proposed and I said yes! I know we are only 18 but when you know you know right?”

“Oh my goooooood” Daisy grabs her finger to get a closer look.

“I was wondering if you will be my maid of honor?”

“Yes yes of course I will.”

They hug and Daisy starts to feel her eyes well up and she tries to hold them back quickly. Without making eye contact she gets up and throws on clothes super-fast.

“Wow, I'm so happy for you. I ..just..need to go to the library I forgot to finish my homework for potions class…and ya I totally wanna talk about everything and all the details but igottago bye loveyou.”

Daisy rushes out of the room and heads to the only place no one will come looking for her or even find right now.

Married?! I mean come on seriously i mean i know she was always a year older than me so 18 isn't super crazy. But we aren't even out of school yet!! And don't get me wrong i'm so happy for her but I just wish I could find someone too.

Daisy couldn’t hold it back anymore; the tears fell down her face as she made her way down the hall. Daisy finally makes it to her Room of Requirement and heads in. Her room was filled with an entire land of beautiful green grass with a cottage in the center and a garden in the back. She ran into her cottage and slammed herself onto her bed. Daisy did this a lot when she was upset. This was her safe space. As she laid there crying, she heard a knock on the cottage door.

Wait. What?!

She opened the door and saw Professor Wells outside. Her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“D.A.D.A” Daisy says as she wipes away her tears quickly. “How did you get in here?”

“One you know after all these years I still hate you calling me that, and second, I came in before your room shut. I saw you crying and came.”

“Well, I'm fine. It's no big deal, thanks for coming.” as she begins to close the door.

He puts his foot in the doorway, so it can’t shut with his hands in his pocket. “You always came to me when you're upset and I always had to solve them, so why hide it now.”

“.....because this isn’t something you can solve…” she says quietly.

“Well, try me. You never know. I may surprise you.” He says with a small smile.

Daisy lets him inside finally and he steps in.

“It's a nice place you got here.”

“Listen, it's where I think the best when I'm upset. Don't judge me!”

“I'm not. I’m being serious. Anyways, tell me what's going on.

Daisy suddenly lets everything out. “I’m great in school. I know what I want to be, but I missed out on the most important thing, which is finding a good relationship with a nice guy. All the guys I have tried to be with all just act like boys and don't feel mature, and I feel like I'm at a different level than everyone else maturity wise. So, all the guys just feel like dumb boys and I want a man who is going to treat me nice and be there for me. And now Adelia is getting married which is great and I'm just here still with no one and I never even have been with anyone physical even.”

Wells stands there quietly and listens till she is done talking. When she is he speaks “Well you are just a kid still.”

“Stop saying that I’M NOT A KID ANYMORE.”

Deep down he knew that. He has known her since she was 11. Now here in front of him she had blossomed into a beautiful woman now. Her breasts were larger, and her figure was way more filled out and curvy. Her sides perfect to grab onto and slam onto the bed right behind her. What was he thinking though? He was her teacher, and she was his student. This couldn’t happen, but she wasn't wrong. She wasn't a kid anymore, and she was mature now.

He moved closer to her now only a couple inches apart.

“Ugh you don't get it.” she says. She goes to turn around, but he stops her.

Daisy looked up at her professor blushing dark as he cupped her cheek “Professor I… I don’t want to get the wrong signals here but I…” she didn’t finish her sentence as she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. She was so relieved when she felt him kiss her back but soon, he pulled away “Daisy I don’t know if I should let this continue…. You’ve been my student for years I… you should be with someone your age” he said almost as if he was trying to convince himself.

Daisy frowned “Professor, if I had a problem with your age would I be kissing you right now? “She asked, a tad bit annoyed.

Vernon couldn’t help but chuckle, she was still a little bit of a spitfire even as she matured “I suppose that’s true but… Daisy I… you know I would die much sooner than you” he said, and she looked at him blankly “Not if I die first…”

Vernon snorted “God Daisy I don’t know what to do with you” he laughed resting his forehead against hers “You could always kiss me” she said to him “or maybe touch me… or both… completely up to you” she said giving him a mischievous smirk.

Vernon laughed and gave into her kissing her deeply and picked her up and laying her down on the bed kissing down her neck and began to unbutton her blouse “Its crazy how much you’ve changed…your body is so… soft” he purred nuzzling his face against her bosom and Daisy giggled “Professor, your scruff tickles” she squirmed. Vernon blushed and sat up “I… I don’t know if I can keep going if you keep calling me Professor…” he sighed feeling embarrassed “It just feels wrong…"Daisy looked at him and thought for a minute before a cat-like grin spread across her face… I know what I can call you” she whispered, her and all her friends used to call him D.A.D.A for short, it drove him nuts and they all thought it was so funny… but now she could call him something else, sitting up she crawled into his lap and ground her hips against his “You think far too much… daddy” she whispered in his ear and kissed his neck. Vernon felt his erection strain against his pants “D-Daisy that’s worse!” he blushed but Daisy kept kissing his neck “Your body seems to think otherwise…Daddy.”

Vernon once again gave in to Daisy’s antics and he pinned her down to the bed “Daddy has had enough of your teasing” he growled, and Daisy felt herself get wet as he growled into her ear… she really liked that…

He rapidly undressed her before Daisy even had time to comprehend that she was completely naked… she suddenly felt very shy and attempted to cover herself, but Vernon pinned her hands above her head “Don’t hide yourself from Daddy” he purred, kissing down her neck to her chest making daisy shiver under his touch.

His tongue gently brushed against one of her nipples making her gasp “D-daddy please…” she whimpered, and he smiled wrapping his lips around her nipple sucking it gently, he right hand crept down and began to tease her clit “D-daddy!” she gasped bucking her hips he removed his mouth from her nipple and kissed her “Shhhhh relax…” he whispered and slipped a finger inside her making her toes curl. He continued to kiss down her body as he fingered her until he reached her clit and gently began to lick it, this made Daisy practically shake under him “Professor… professor I…” suddenly she felt him slap her thigh and she yelped “It’s daddy, Daisy…you do well to remember that” he growled once more, and it nearly sent Daisy over the edge “Yes daddy… I-I’m sorry daddy” she whimpered.

He couldn’t help but grin at her submissiveness, he continued to finger her, adding a second finger and sucking on her clit “Daddy…daddy I’m gonna…” her hips began to grind into his hand.

“Cum for daddy, Daisy…. Cum for me…” he whispered and went faster

Tears pricked her eyes as she made a mess of the sheets under them.

Daisy spread her legs more and he sat up to look at her exhausted face, Daisy pulled him in close and kissed him tasting herself on his lips, wrapping her legs around his hips she pulled away “Take me… Vernon… please take me now” she gasped, calling him by his first name.

Vernon sat up and undid his belt and unzipped his pants, lining himself up at her entrance… then he froze… he couldn’t do it… he couldn’t take her… not while she was still his student “Daisy…Daisy I can’t” he frowned pulling away. Daisy sat up and looked at him cupping his cheek “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Daisy, I can’t have sex with you…not while you are still my student I just… I can’t.” He sighed, looking away feeling ashamed. Daisy smiled softly and nuzzled her cheek against his “Then let’s wait… when I come back from studying at St. Mungo's… we will come back here… and we will continue” she whispered in his ear.

Vernon blushed and pulled her in for a tight hug “Sounds like a date” he smiled kissing her.

Daisy moaned and slowly slipped out of his grasp and got on her knees so that she was eye level with his cock “for now though… I need to make sure daddy gets to cum too” she purred and took his tip into her mouth, sucking it softly at first and slowly began to take more of him into her mouth. Vernon threw his head back and gasped “Oh fuck Daisy! “He exclaimed, his hand going to grip her head. Daisy shivered feeling him throb in her mouth, it made her want to take in more of him… so she did taking him all the way down to the base sucking harder and faster “Fuck! fuck daisy I’m gonna cum!” he warned but Daisy didn’t pull away as she kept sucking until he spilled down her throat, pulling away she panted and smiled looking up at him “Did I do well daddy?”

Vernon groaned and pulled her up onto the bed and held her close as they laid back down “Very well…” he smiled and watched as she slowly fell asleep in his arms.

Vernon Wells

Daisy Walsh

#d&d #d&d oc #dungeons and dragons #harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter smut #hogwarts legacy

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jewvian · 1 year

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Hello! I have a few questions for you, I just discovered your blog and you seem cool. What are your favorite Jewish/Israeli foods? Do you think the hatred and anti-Zionism towards Jews and Israelis are unjustified or is it okay to hate this country, its people, and their government? What are your favorite proverbs in Hebrew (if you'll translate them into English I would appreciate it)

Oh hello! Thanks for your compliment lol I am in fact very cool 😎

Your questions are so random in order lol like the jump from fave food to antisemitism is nuts lmao no shade tho, I'll try answering them all as thoroughly as I can!

It's a complicate question cuz like Israeli cuisine is still in its diapers, it's still evolving so it's more about combinations of dishes and types of food that create this cuisine. Like we have schnitzels in baguettes with spreads like hummus and harissa and topped with sauerkraut and freshly sliced vegetables. These combinations are Israeli cuisine in my opinion lol falafel is still number one in my book, shawarma as well. Lots and lots of veggies, grilled meats, grape juice in a glass bottle. That's the vibe for me lol Jewish food however! I'm Ashkenazi, so Eastern Europe cuisine also speaks to me dearly. You can't get a better dish than a matzo ball soup, sorry y'all.

And now to the heavy stuff huh? To put it as simply as I can cuz some people are thick as fuck, criticism is fair game - hatred isn't. You can criticize the Israeli government as much as you want, we do it here too, but using this justified criticism as a tool to spread antisemitism and bigotry and just full on hatred is, you guessed it - wrong! I've seen too many "critics", let's call them that, revert straight into blatant antisemitism when confronted (and even spread it casually tbh) so I am always super weary when seeing these kind of people online. Sometimes they are worse than far right extremists, there I said it. Like at least I know a neo Nazi simply hates me, but the far left will do cartwheels trying to justify their opinions in a way that doesn't paint them as antisemitic while at the same time spew the worst tropes, proving they've never interacted with a Jew before. "I don't hate Jews, I just think they are evil colonizers! Also is human meat kosher?" I wish I made that sentence up but it was posted on this site not long ago. So there you go anon.

Wow favourite proverbs, that's hard lol Jewish people love their idioms and proverbs lmao few jump to mind tho, like there's the famous "if you will it, it's no dream" by Theodor Herzl, which is essentially the country's unofficial motto lol hmm oh there's my fave: "man plans and God laughs" meaning you can plan your life as much as you want but God will fuck you up eventually! There's also "we survived Pharaoh - We'll survive this too" which means like, we made it through the worst in the past so we can overcome whatever harsh shit is in front of us today. Jewish proverbs in general can be either super insightful and clever or the silliest shit you've ever seen in your life lmao there's no in between! You either gonna learn an important lesson or just get back at someone with the snarkiest sentence a human ever created. "If he were the grim reaper - no one would die" I think this one is self explanatory lol yeah so these are just the ones I remember for now I hope they were enough for you 😊

That's it I think lol I hope I managed to answer your questions, if you want more info on whatever subject - I'm here and I'm still very cool so you're welcome to send more lol

#inbox #anonymous #oof that took longer to answer than i originally thought lol #i didn't mind tho it was great actually #i did try answering as briefly as i can cuz i didn't wanna make it longer #like it's already a lot lol #so if you needed extra info on anything i'm game lol #and yeah i do think anti zionism is a dog whistle for antisemitism #it's the same lady but in a different hat (another proverb for you lol)#thanks again anon! i appreciate you coming over and sending this :)

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1kook · 3 years

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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jackrrabbit · 3 years

Text

[excerpts of upcoming works.]

so as i discovered on @dream-theory the other day, i have over 63,000 words of wips right now??

i'm trying to rev myself up to post more, so here are a few excerpts from some of my favorite unfinished works, ranging from smut to fucked up smut! if anything here looks interesting to you, lmk so i'll be extra motivated to finish it ♥︎

pairings included in this post: [BNHA] Hawks x reader ✧ [BNHA] Todoroki x reader ✧ [BNHA] Overhaul x reader ✧ [BNHA] Shigaraki x reader (iwcb p4!) ✧ [KNY] Sanemi x reader (x Rengoku).

cw for all works: 18+, f!reader, all characters are adults. (btw these are the usual shitty first drafts, please have mercy 😭)

[BNHA] Hawks x reader /// Champagne Room

Summary: A petty thief gets more than she bargained for when she tries to take advantage of a pro.

Warnings: stripper!reader, love-drunk Hawks

Status: 2.5k words written out of ~5k total

You wouldn’t call yourself a villain, but sometimes you get jobs. At first it was all anonymous: letters in your mailbox with no return address, voicemails from blocked numbers. A time and a date, a name, a list of questions. And a number. Your reward. You ignored the requests at first, but then the numbers got bigger and bigger—and hey, if they knew your phone number and your address you were already screwed, so…

You made it happen. You did your thing (seduction, interrogation, et cetera) same as usual, except this time you did it on command. It was just one time, and then then two times, and—wow, the money was good. Way better than what you were getting skimming cards. You’re saving up for a house now. You’re gonna retire early. Maybe all the times you got called a tease or a slut or a bitch in high school because of your quirk were worth it, because now the newspapers are starting to call you Heartbreaker. For a villain name, it has a nice ring to it.

Hawks isn’t a job like those, though. He’s more of a vanity project, an impulse target. You’ll go easy on him—you’ll just get his savings account info and take a few rent payments out of it. No harm, no foul. Won’t even make a dent in his hero income, you’re nice like that.

“So…Keigo…do you trust me?” You rub your ass against the stiff bulge and trace fingers down the rigid bones at the top of his wings. You’re laying your quirk on so thick you can almost smell it in the air, you can almost taste it. So can he.

Hawks breathes in and his whole body trembles. “Course I do, angel, of course…fuck, I…” He blinks quickly. You can see it bearing down onto him, pushing away his self-interest: your influence, your charisma. Your quirk. The lights change and the melted gold of his eyes is slashed pink-purple-blue in the reflection. Wings curl around you, closing you in like an embrace.

“Can you do something for me?”

“…sure, if you want…?” Anything you want, anything for you, his hands say, hovering, almost touching your thighs, but Hawks won’t touch you until you give him permission, he can’t.

“Anything?” you ask, staring deep into his eyes like this is a romance novel and not a private room where you’re about to steal from the #2 hero. It’s like hypnosis, to be honest. Needs a connection.

“Anything, angel,” he breathes.

[BNHA] Todoroki x reader /// Experience

Summary: Todoroki knows his relationship with his boss will only work as long as there are no strings attached, but the arrangement gets a lot more complicated when her ex comes back into the picture.

Warnings: office relationship, alcohol mention

Status: 5.3k words written out of 8k (??? who fucking knows) total

They’re both laughing now, giggling like schoolchildren testing out curse words for the first time. The look on Todoroki’s face must not be as neutral as he wants it to be, because Kaminari notices—turns toward him and asks, “what do you think, Todoroki?”

It’s harmless. Todoroki knows that, knows Kaminari and Ashido don’t mean anything by it. It’s the same thing the other students do in university with good-looking professors and TAs, the way they’ve always done. And even though Todoroki doesn’t really understand the way they see you (hot for teacher? ice princess?) he can’t really admit he disagrees.

“Todoroki? You okay?” Ashido frowns and waves her hand in front of his face. “You’re totally zoned out tonight.”

“…I should go,” Todoroki says, standing suddenly and collecting his coat from the seat next to him. Ashido and Kaminari protest (“it’s early! you’re not even drunk yet!”), but he ignores them. “I have to go back to the office.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re going to work even more,” Kaminari moans while Ashido nods ruefully along with him. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

Todoroki doesn’t need to work. He needs one of the account files for a deadline this weekend, and that’s what he tells them while he calls a car to take him back. He could get it tomorrow, Saturday—which is what he was planning to when he left this evening—but he wants to be there now, for some reason…it’s past 9PM on a Friday, and there’s no reason that you’d still be there, but…

There you are, sitting alone in your office, facing the view of the late-night skyline through your window. The sky is flat purple-black—there’s too much pollution to see the stars here in the city, Todoroki knows that—but the surrounding buildings are shimmering in the dark. You turn when you hear the door to the office open, and the expression on your face is like you’ve been caught in a private moment, something you didn’t intend for him to see.

“…Todoroki.” Your mouth moves around his name like you’re testing it. “You’re back.”

“I need to pick up the Steubens file,” he says slowly, hoping you can’t hear any hint of uncertainty in his voice. He didn’t drink much (two, two and half maybe, and his tolerance is always better than people think it is) but he doesn’t want you to think he’s been irresponsible.

“You should take a break this weekend. Don’t worry about the deadline, I’ll take care of it,” you tell him, letting your gaze flick over him. You frown a bit and he wonders what you’re seeing—his dress shirt unbuttoned under his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up past his forearms; his hair a little rumpled out of the style he puts it in for work. “Were you out with the interns? You didn’t need to come back to the office.”

Todoroki pulls long fingers through his hair and you follow the movement. “I don’t mind.”

You have this way of looking at him—always appraising, evaluating him against some secret standard that he may or may not measure up to. Kaminari’s theorized that it’s an intimidation tactic. It makes the other interns squirm, but Todoroki doesn’t have trouble holding your gaze. “If you insist,” you say finally. “But you shouldn’t work too hard. You should enjoy life while you’re young.”

The file is in the cabinet at your right, exactly where Todoroki knows you keep it. He should just take it. He should leave the office and go home, go to sleep. He should stop—standing here, in front of your desk, looking down at you, wanting you. Your hands, your voice, the soft bow of your lips… Maybe he’s less sober than he thought he was. He wants to touch you. He wants to be touched.

“(Y/N),” he says. It isn’t supposed to sound like it does, like a sigh. “I’m sorry…I’ve been drinking.”

You’ve already turned back to the screen of your computer, but you still shrug. “Why are you sorry? You’re an adult, what you do on you own time isn’t any of my business. As long as you’re getting your work done…”

“Not for that,” Todoroki says. “I’m sorry for this.” And he leans down, folds his hand under your chin, and kisses you.

You’re stiff for a second—he can feel the surprised intake of breath with your mouth against his—but he pushes closer to you and you relax, fraction by fraction. Your mouth tastes fresh and sweet, like peppermint. His hand finds the desk—bracing himself, he feels like his knees might give out—and the edge of one of your documents bites into the side of his palm. Let this be real, he thinks. Don’t let her move.

Closer, he has to be closer to you.

Todoroki kisses you harder.

[BNHA] Overhaul x reader /// do no harm

Summary: He'd forgotten what it feels like to want something this badly. (—over the course of his imprisonment in Tartarus, Chisaki develops a fixation on a young researcher sent to rebuild his arms.)

Warnings!!!!: prison setting, ableism, mentions of injury and unethical medical/prison practices, mentions of drug addiction, Chisaki's mental state is not healthy, this one's gonna be pretty fucked ngl

Status: 1.8 words written out of an infinite amount total...seriously I have no idea for this one, it's been marinating in my head since I first created this blog :x

Red—

Lights, cold. His eyes are already open. In the exam room. Someone’s speaking, not the doctor, not one of the nurses, someone else.

Someone else?

White, white. Someone’s hand hovering over his shoulder, latex gloves brushing his skin. Not a doctor. You don’t feel like a doctor. You keep— skimming over his chest, too nervous to really touch him. Your hands are warm in the center, cold at the fingertips. You touch him like you’re afraid. You feel—

He can—he can smell you. Everything here smells sterile and chemical and he got used to it, let it fade into the background until the millisecond of metallic blood smell after they take the needle out of his leg makes him ill. Overhaul breathes in and smells you, smells the soap you washed your hair with. Something—something sweet? He can’t— he can’t— why are you so close? You want him to lie down. Why are you touching him? You’re not a nurse, not a doctor. He feels dizzy breathing you in.

Your voice. You’re telling him to lie down again. He’s trying to ignore you like he ignores everything here but your voice is—

softer, lighter. Different. Don’t look. Don’t listen. Close your eyes, Overhaul thinks to himself, ignore her.

“Please,” you say. “Chisaki.”

You’re touching him now, getting ready to push him flat on his back like an invalid, and with the phantom limbs he can feel sometimes itching and aching in thin air, he wants to wrap his fingers around your wrist and break it.

You pleaded. You said his name. He hasn’t heard his own name in—a year? Two? How long has it been?

He lies down.

He wants to sleep again. He knows what they give him—he knows the name of the drug cocktail and all the chemical compounds that make it up and he knows the effects it can have when taken long-term. It’s a sedative, it makes him feel numb and sometimes if he’s numb enough he can even manage to enjoy it. But if he’s not he feels himself lying there while the drugs crawl through his circulatory system and into his brain, eating away at the parts of himself that he used to think were worth keeping. God, god, it feels filthy. He would purge himself—rip himself to shreds and put them back together clean—if he could.

He wants to sleep, but the smell of your soap—

“Chisaki, do you know why I’m here?”

I don’t know, he thinks. I don’t care.

“It’s about your arms.”

Overhaul doesn’t have arms. The prostheses are controlled externally by people who think Shigaraki should have finished the job. He can barely feed himself without assistance, can’t even piss without getting permission from one of the penal officers to activate the bionics. They’re not his arms.

“I’m here to see if I can…fix them.”

Overhaul closes his eyes. Black.

[BNHA] Shigaraki x reader /// it will come back [pt. 4]

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Warnings: mentions of injury, pain, fear, this is an extremely rough draft ngl I really need to edit :/

Status: 5.2k words written out of maybe 8k total

His bedroom looks like you would’ve thought it would look like if you had ever thought about it. Nice computer with two monitors, some books, lots of gaming stuff. A map above the computer pinned with documents, newspaper clippings, pictures, some of which extend past the wall and onto the ceiling. Serial killer shit. Fitting. The window is blocked out with heavy curtains, and the only light in the room comes from the purplish gleam of the monitors. Tomura sets you and your bag down on his unmade bed and pulls your ankle into his lap along with some ice cubes in a towel, a roll of Ace bandages, a white plastic pharmacy bottle that rattles when he drops it on the mattress.

“Um—I can do that,” you say, but Tomura ignores you, peeling your sock down and wrapping the bandages around your ankle. “You don’t have to—it doesn’t have to be that tight.”

He ignores that too. You’re almost glad that you’re in pain. It’s giving you something to focus on besides his hands.

“Why were you at the bar?” Tomura asks.

“I…don’t know, I got lost on my way back from work.”

“You don’t get lost.” He coils the bandage around one more time before tucking the edge under to hold it in place. “Were you looking for me?”

You inhale, counting out three beats to make sure it doesn’t sound too fast. “It was just a coincidence.” He doesn’t look convinced, so you shrug, hoping you look more nonchalant than you feel. “Really.”

Does he know?

He couldn’t. There’s no way. Stop talking, don’t tell him anything he doesn’t need to know. Stop thinking about him killing kids.

Tomura’s done wrapping your ankle, but he’s not moving away from you. “You shouldn’t go out in the rain like that. You could get sick.”

“You’re…you’re one to talk.”

“You’re different than me. You break so easily.” His grip moves up from your ankle and his hands are cold from the ice. Your ankle feels stiff, achy. You can’t remember the last time you were in this much pain.

How much will it hurt if Tomura touches you? You can’t take your eyes off his hand, stark white and threaded with blue veins against the dark fabric of your skirt. You saw the cast Aizawa was wearing, the gauze taped on his face, the way he winced a little bit whenever he moved quickly back at the hospital. You can’t even imagine how that feels…to have your living body flake off into dust, from your skin all the way down to your bones.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god. Don’t cry. You’ll get out of this. He’s not going to hurt you. Just play along.

Tomura runs a hand over your ankle again and a sound comes out of your mouth that you can’t even categorize. “Is it really that bad?” he asks, and it’s almost worse to know that he’s asking out of genuine curiosity. God knows what he’s been through in the past week—the gunshots. the infection—must have felt a thousand times worse.

You try to slow your breathing but you’re having a hard time remembering what it’s supposed to sound like. “I think I need to see a doctor."

“You’re acting weird.”

You let out a high, tense laugh. “It really hurts, Tomura, what do you expect?”

“No…you’ve been acting weird since I called you earlier.” Red eyes narrow into slits and move over the strained look on your face. “Maybe you did get sick.”

“Sure. Maybe.”

Tomura lifts the back of his hand to his own forehead and then reaches out to you to compare your temperature to his, only—you don’t see that. What you see is the leader of the League of Villains with his hand out, so close to your head that you can make out the dirt under his fingernails. You see the police sketch of his villain costume from one of the articles you read, those grey embalmed hands trapped in rigor mortis around his limbs and his face. You see the news photo of the kids from UA. High school first-years, but some of them looked younger. Like the green-haired kid…you would have guessed 13 years old, 14 maybe. They did an interview with the girl—the cute one with big eyes and a frog quirk? The one he almost killed? She said she could smell the dead hands on Shigaraki’s costume when he was two inches away from her face: chemical antiseptic almost like perfume, layered over something rotting.

Tomura’s not wearing his costume now. He’s never worn it in front of you. But you almost feel like you can smell it anyway.

[KNY] Sanemi x reader x Rengoku /// to the hilt

Summary: After an injury that ends your career as a demon slayer, you struggle to adjust to your newfound vulnerability and the protectiveness of the the two Hashira who consider you their responsibility. (—Sanemi makes threats, and Rengoku enforces them.)

Warnings: protective/patronizing behavior, mentions of injury, dependent reader, possibly coercive vibes??, Rengoku doesn't make an appearance in this excerpt (he shows up later)

Status: 2.8k words written out of 6–7k total

"How many times do I have to tell you you’re not strong enough to be using your hands?” Sanemi's voice is thin with anger, and he lets you hear it. Of course he’s angry. It’s like you’re doing this on purpose, making yourself sicker, forcing him to force you to give up already. The flash of pain that passes over your face is almost enough to make him feel guilty, but you should know better by now. What’s the point of trying to go through the motions? You’ll never fight again. “You don’t need to be useful.”

“I know! I’m not… I know I’m not healed enough, I get it. Do we have to talk about this?”

He glares—do you really understand?—but he lets it go. Settles back, keeps the peace, for your sake. For now. “Just keep eating.”

You oblige gratefully, digging into the food that’s left as quickly as you seem to be able to. Sanemi watches and keeps his mouth shut even when you fumble. He’s too angry with you, too pushy sometimes. He knows. But how else is he supposed to keep you from making your injury worse? If you didn’t need him—him and Rengoku, at least—you’d just leave. Sanemi’s never suggested it himself (to be honest, he doesn’t even let himself think about the possibility of you leaving the dojo), but you could. You’re here because you want to be. Because you’re not strong enough to set your own limits, follow the boundaries you’ve been given in order to heal. You need them. You need them to keep you safe.

Through the window, the moon is rising little by little, saturating the courtyard outside with watery light. There’s a lamp in your bedroom but it’s unlit—seems like you prefer the dim light of the outdoors and the faint glow of the hallway through your door. Were you just sitting here in the dark before he came?

The image comes to his mind too easily—you sitting at the window in your thin kimono for hours, staring blankly as the world outside dips into night. It doesn’t fit you…or at least it doesn’t fit the person you’re supposed to be.

(the person you were before.)

“Why is it so fucking dark in here? It’s depressing,” he asks, stacking your discarded dishes and setting the tray to the side once you’ve finished. The only thing left is the sake bowl, which you lift to your mouth very carefully before patting your lips dry and offering it back to Sanemi.

He takes it, still waiting for your response, but you wait for him to drink before you answer. “It isn’t that dark with the moon out like this.”

You’re right, in a way. By now Sanemi’s vision has adjusted enough so that he can see everything from the moonlight alone—weeds poking out from the stone slabs outside, rippling movement from the wisteria flowers, and…

…the unbound hair unfurling like a halo around your face, your rumpled kimono baring a little too much of your throat, the shadows that your eyelashes paint down over your cheekbones when you close your eyes. Sanemi exhales, shifts back and takes another sip from the bowl. “Are you tired? Did you want to sleep?”

“No, I—“ you turn to the side, looking deeper into the bedroom so your face is caught in shadow for a second. Like after all of this, you can’t look him in the eye when you say it. “You’re leaving for a mission tomorrow, aren’t you? I thought…maybe you would come. And we could have a drink.”

Ah…she doesn’t want to say it. That’s fine. Sanemi knows what you need.

You extend a hand out for the bowl that the two of you have been trading back and forth, but your fingers don’t meet the ceramic—he’s already reaching out for you, pulling you in toward him, and when you bite your lip and nod he lies you down until your back meets the tatami below. Here, right here. Your body underneath his, the only place where he can really convince himself you’re safe.

You fumble to untie the sash of your kimono, slipping awkwardly over the bindings every time you try to get ahold of them, but Sanemi settles himself over you and pins your wrists down and forces your trembling hands into stillness. “Let me,” he says.

if you reached the end of this post, thank you for reading!! please tell me if there were any wips you liked/want to see more of :]

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theminecraftbox · 2 years

Note

Eldritch confessions: how do you each approach problems? What methodology? And how do the other two approach problems? motivation uhhh…I’ll give whoever answers a clock

/dsmp /rp

Dream: A clock? I don’t want a clock.

DreamXD: 🤨Yes you do. 🕰💚

Dream: …That’s—look, just because I want something doesn’t mean I want it.

Quackity: What the fuck does that mean?

Dream: (annoyed) It means I don’t want a clock!

Sam: He would ask for a new one all the time. Then he’d just destroy it.

Quackity: Really? Why?

Sam: (lip curled) Same reason he’d throw himself in lava. He wanted attention.

Dream: Oh my god. It was because I was really, really bored! It—it seriously is not that deep.

DreamXD: 🤨

Dream: What?? There’s not—I don’t have, like, secret clock trauma! I would get bored, I’d get frustrated, I’d break it and throw it in lava! And then I’d miss not knowing the time so I’d tell Sam I needed a new one!

Quackity: (laughing) Wow. Goddamn, dude, that’s fucking sad.

Dream: It—how is that sad? That’s, like, that’s so mundane! That is honestly one of my, one of the least sad things. There are like a thousand more—look. Fine. I don’t like not knowing the time, I want a clock, happy?

DreamXD: 😁

Sam: …How long do you think we’ve been here, Dream?

Dream: (irritably) Why are you asking me?

Sam: (silky) Oh, I’m just wondering what you think. If you can count hours or not. I can.

Dream: (acidly) Ooh, yay, congratulations, you’re not a complete idiot.

Quackity: Yeah, how much did we fuck up your brain? You got pretty confused sometimes, bud!

Dream: Oh, my god. That’s not anything you did, you try spending like a year underground and tell me what day it is!

Sam: (satisfied) You begged me for another clock.

Dream: Great! Genius!! We have established that I want a clock! So are you going to answer the question or not??

Quackity: (smugly) I mean, I want to hear more about the clock trauma, but go ahead, I guess.

Sam: I approach problems… methodically. I design a solution and then I make it happen. Quackity’s more… out-of-the-box? He’s, uh, he’s a people person.

(Dream laughs.)

Sam: (frostily) And Dream, you just hurt whoever’s in your way.

Quackity: I solve problems by any means necessary, Sam builds some complicated fucking contraption that usually ends up not working, and Dream just threatens people and blows shit up.

Dream: (viciously) Quackity and Sam approach problems by being idiots and like, slamming their heads into brick walls and assuming it’ll work. I solve problems by making a plan that will actually work and then sticking to it!

Quackity: (thoughtfully) Maybe I should have given you a clock, Dream. Given you a time to look forward to every day! What do you think?

Dream: I think I should burn you alive one limb at a time.

Quackity: (mildly) I’ll take that as a yes.

DreamXD: 🎊🕰🎊 SCORES: 42-44-49 (max 55)

(DreamXD hangs the clock in a frame on the wall right in the middle of the room. It’s apparently a few hours after midnight.)

Sam: (warningly) Don’t smash it.

Dream: (darkly) Where’s lava when you really need it.

#au: eldritch confessions #prison trio #‘I don’t have clock trauma’—spoken like a man who has clock trauma #referenced self harm

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Perfectly Fine

Prompt: Hi! I would love to read something from you featuring asexual Remus! - anon

it is project onto fictional characters hour my dudes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of the reality of being a sex-repulsed ace in a very allo world, nothing explicit

Pairings: none you heathens

Word Count: 1358

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

But Remus is Remus, and that's perfectly fine.

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

So it’s no secret that Remus’s particular sense of humor is equally as derived from what he finds funny and what makes the others the most uncomfortable. Logan did an analysis of it once and the results were 49%-51%. Which one is which varies but the quantities are incredibly consistent.

The trick is figuring out that the balance applies to Remus too.

And sure, the idea of Remus being uncomfortable is…difficult to remember sometimes, given that, you know, he’s Remus, but it’s there! It’s worth remembering! He’s a Side too! But considering his metric for ‘uncomfortable’ is wildly different from everyone else’s, it’s easy for them to overlook it. Maybe he gets some excitement out of grossing himself out too, maybe there’s a sick thrill in seeing just how close he can get himself to vomiting, honestly, who knows. Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

So here’s the big one that, again, took them way too long to figure out.

Remus is asexual. Not just asexual, sex-repulsed asexual.

Let’s reiterate: Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

It just…took them by surprise, is all.

“Wait,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses, “you’re asexual?”

“Those are the words I used,” Remus says, his head hanging off the couch.

“I—I heard you, I am…simply surprised,” Logan settles on, closing his notebook and setting it aside. “I would not have guessed that Thomas’s Sides would have different sexualities or romantic orientations.”

“What does it matter, Pocket Protector?”

“It doesn’t, it’s interesting to me.”

“Does that mean that all of us could potentially have different sexualities?” Patton’s head pokes above the counter as he digs for the good muffin tray—not the one Janus swiped three hours ago, of course not—in the cabinets. “Or no?”

Logan shrugs. “I imagine it would be possible, though I find it likely that at least some of us share Thomas’s.”

“My ears are burning,” Roman announces, plopping onto the couch next to his brother, “what incredibly gay thing are we talking about now?”

“Yeesh, Princey,” Virgil mutters, recovering from flinching horribly into the chair, “don’t do that, you scared the hell outta me.”

“Sorry, Virgil.” Roman taps Remus’s leg, hanging up over the back of the couch next to his head. “Why’re you upside-down?”

“Why’re you right-side up?”

“Remus…prompted a discussion on sexualities,” Logan says carefully, sparing a glance at Remus, “and we were debating the question of if we, as Thomas’s Sides, all have different sexualities.”

Remus kicks Roman in the head. “Told them I’m ace.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

“Really, and here I thought Remus beginning a complex introspective conversation was the height of character accuracy.”

“Payback,” Virgil sniggers as Roman startles horribly as Janus appears from behind the couch. “All jokes aside, I’m with L, I, uh, didn’t expect Remus to be ace.”

“Why not?”

Janus scoffs. “Couldn’t be the number of sex jokes you make on a daily basis, not at all.”

Remus shrugs.

“I think it’s just surprising considering how comfortable you are making the jokes, kiddo.”

“The fuck makes you think I’m comfortable with them?”

“Lang—what?” Patton’s head pops up again.

“A wild Patton appears!”

“Has Thomas…ever been interested in Pokémon?”

“What do you mean, comfortable?” Patton tilts his head, focused entirely on Remus and not the others making Pokémon jokes. “Are—are you not comfortable?”

“Remus isn’t exactly known for his ‘comfortable’ sense of humor, Padre,” Roman says, leaning back on the couch to make eye contact around Remus’s legs.

“But—but that—hold on.” Patton stands up—“ah! More Wild Patton!”—and puts his hands on the counter. “Remus, why would you make jokes that make you uncomfortable?”

Remus eyes him from upside-down. “Why does anyone do anything?”

“Sheer, absolute boredom, yeah, yeah, we get it,” Virgil sighs, “but it’s a good question, Remus.”

Remus just shrugs, only for it to dislodge him from his precarious position and slide toward the floor. Roman watches him collapse into a graceless heap and rolls his eyes, lying down on the couch.

“Hey! You stole my spot!”

“You’re the one who moved. Hey—!” Roman squawks in surprise as Remus throws himself on top of him. “You’re squishing me!”

“Too bad for you.”

“Remus,” Janus says softly, “are you…does sex make you uncomfortable?”

“Like maggots are crawling through my bones!”

The living room is quiet for a moment, enough to make Remus push himself up and stare around at them.

“What?”

“Sex isn’t something shameful, Remus,” Patton says patiently—and wow, isn’t that a surprise— “I promise.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I know that, it just makes me want to rip all of my skin off and start over.”

“Why?”

“It’s bad enough I have to live in this meat sack,” he grouses, flopping back down and eliciting a soft ‘oof’ from Roman, “don’t need to be consciously reminded of it.”

“...‘meat sack?’”

“Oh, sorry, Lolo, ‘flexible container of mostly water.’”

“That’s not—well, yes, I suppose that is more accurate,” Logan says as he adjusts his tie, “but why would you choose to refer to your body as a meat sack?”

Remus shrugs. “’S not like I’d choose to be in this fucking thing. Evolution fucked up when it made us this way, at least we aren’t fucking horses. Oh, hey—“

“No,” Roman interrupts, “no jokes about that.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Remus?”

“What do you want, Snake-Face?”

“Are you…uncomfortable with your body?”

“Every day! It’s awful! I wish I didn’t have one!” At Janus’s muffled noise of heartbreak, Remus cranes his neck to look up at him. “Oh, relax, I’m fine, discomfort is part of my existence.”

“But it shouldn’t have to be.”

Remus huffs a sigh when he realizes that everyone else is looking at him with a similar amount of concern. Well, except Roman, but Roman gets it so that makes sense.

“I may or may not be being slightly dramatic, I am fine.”

“Can confirm,” Roman hums lazily, “comes with the Creativity gig.”

“Look, I just don’t like that it’s—it’s—“ Remus’s gaze lands on Patton— “look, Cookie Monster over there is allergic to cats, right?”

Logan frowns, glancing back and forth between them. “Yes, what does—“

“He’s not gonna die from it and he can still be around them, he’s just hyperaware of when there are cats and he can’t spend a lot of time around them without being really uncomfortable, right?”

Logan blinks in surprise. “Yes, I understand what you’re saying. Very clever analogy.”

“I am Creativity, you nitwit.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Of course.”

“So,” Virgil says cautiously, waving a hand at him, “you’re…good?”

“Yep. Goody-goody gumdrops, that’s me.”

“As long as you never say that again, fine.”

Roman gives him a hug. “I’m proud of you, Re, coming out is hard. Especially when you have to give people a vocabulary lesson when you do it.”

“Thanks, Ro-Bro.” Remus’s grin widens. “Does that mean I get to pick the movie for tonight?”

“What? No! It’s my pick! Hey! Hey!” Roman squeals as Remus starts to poke his belly. “Don’t! Dohohon’t!”

“Let me pick!”

“No!”

“Boys,” Janus sighs, reaching out and using his six arms to separate the twins, “that’s enough. Roman, what movie are we watching?”

“Pacific Rim.”

“Hey, wait, that’s what I was gonna pick!”

“See? There you go.”

Logan perks up immediately. “Does this mean we finally get to watch a movie with no romantic subplot?”

“And batshit physics.”

“We can overlook the batshit physics.”

“Whoa, L, what happened to you?”

“I…may have a greater appreciation for the cinematic depictions of the machinery.”

Patton just rolls his eyes and gets back to searching for the muffin pan. No movie night is complete without fresh baked goods. Ah, there it is, although he could’ve sworn he looked there a few moments ago…

Anyway, they end the conversation in the same place it started.

Remus is Remus, and that’s perfectly fine.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ace #asexual #asexuality #sex-repulsed asexual

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generouspeachheart · 4 years

Text

Jealousy is gunfire

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Summary: Spencer and reader are in a secret relationship. The team tries to get them to get over eachother. Spencer fucks up. Reader does too. They make up in the end. If there are anny grammar mistakes, feel free to let me know!

Category: Angst with a happy ending.

Warnings: Cursing.

Words: 2,821

You and Spencer had been dating for about 4 months now. No one in the them knew about it. They teased you relentlessly about your ‘crushes’ on each other, not knowing that one night, after a case, you invited Spencer over for a Dr. Who marathon, where he confessed to liking you more than a friend, and you kissed the living hell out of him. However, just like everything else in your lives, things were bound to get complicated.

“You think we should tell them?” Looking down on the rest of the team, while you and Spencer took off to the break room to refill your coffees, the question popped into your head. “I mean…..I don’t know. We’re colleagues after all, so….so maybe we-we shouldn’t.” Spencer pointed out. I know it’s the right thing to do but I don’t really want to keep it a secret from anyone. But it seems as though he does, so I’m not gonna push it. “Yeah, you’re right, I was thinking the same thing.”

I didn’t want to keep my relationship with Y/N a secret. I want to tell everyone. I want to shout if from the rooftops. That I finally got the girl of my dreams. I was hoping she would say no to my proposal. I was hoping she was gonna say that she wants everyone to know. Everyone was ‘shipping’ us anyway, so I didn’t see why we should keep it a secret. But she clearly wanted it kept a secret, so I wasn’t going to push it. “Alright then, I think we should go back to them.” “Yeah, let’s go.”

All that mess let us to this night. We had a night off, and planned on going out together, since we haven’t been out as a team for a long time. As much as both you and Spencer wanted to spend the night on your couch, watching a cheesy rom-com and eating junk food, it would look too suspicious, seeing as everybody else had agreed, so you both agreed to come with as well. First mistake.

“Alright so ill meet you all in front of ‘Jack Rose’ 8pm sharp?” “Yes, sir!” the team all said in unison. “Mind if I run late, beefcake?” “Depends on the reason, Pretty Lady. ” “I have to pick up a dress from my sisters house.” That was sort of a lie. The dress in question is a dress I actually left at Spencer’s place after our fourth date. It was a beautiful dark purple, backless dress Spencer loved on, and also off of, me, so I knew that was the one I had to wear. “Hmmm, I don’t know if I believe you, Boss Lady.” You really loved Morgan, but him snooping in your business was much more than you could handle tonight. “How do I know you’re not just gonna ditch us?” I sighed. “Pinky promise?” I ask, holding out my pinkie finger towards Morgan. “Alright then.” He said, after hooking his own pinky finger with mine. ”I’ll see you a bit later than 8pm, Pretty Lady.” “You got it, beefcake.”

As far as I know, Y/N hadn’t left a dress at her sisters. Maybe she was lying trying to get us out of all this. But then the pinky finger is not a promise Y/N’s known to break. Alright then.

Y/N felt a buzz coming from her phone as the team was saying their goodbyes.

~From: My Pretty Boy ♡

What are you up to?

As soon as the team split up, he got a text notification on his phone.

~From: My Pretty Lady ♡

I’m planning to wear The Dress ™.

A smile overtook Spencer’s face.

~To: My Pretty Lady ♡

So, may I drive you home, m’lady?

~From: My Pretty Lady ♡

Yes, sir. You may.

That’s what got us here. In this goddamn sweaty club where Morgan is trying to make me talk to some blonde he found sitting alone at the bar. “I’m telling you, Pretty Boy, you have to get over Y/N. If you’re not going to do anything about that little crush of yours, then you need to get busy.” He really loved Morgan, but him snooping in his business was much more than he could handle tonight. He noticed you dancing on the floor with Garcia and Emily and figured, to get Morgan off his case, he’s just going to go up to her, explain the situation, and if she could, politely, slap him and walk towards the lady’s room. “Fine, ill go talk to her.” As he went stood up to go bother this poor girl what he failed to notice is Y/N’s eyes scanning the bar trying to find him, to try and convince him to dance with her.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you have to get over Spencer. The only way to do so, is to get jiggy with that model that has been staring you down the entire time you’ve been dancing.” Emily could really be a push-over sometimes. “I’m not going to do that, Em. I don’t mind just dancing with you two.” “Oh, come on, Y/N, give yourself a bit of a break here. You have been thirsting over Wonder Boy long enough, I think its time.” Garcia can be a bit of a push-over too, at times. “You’re right. It’s been long enough, I’m going to go ask Spencer to dance with me!” You said, yelling over the loud music, ignoring the cheers coming from Garcia and Emily. As you scanned the room to find him, you noticed he’s not at the table with Morgan anymore. “I’m going to go get a bit of liquid courage, and then I’m gonna go find out where he is!” You yelled, separating from the ladies, heading for the bar. As the crowd cleared, you came to a halt. There he was. Flirting with a girl. At the bar. Her hand lightly touching his arm, whilst he threw his head backwards, laughing at something the blonde had said. First, he wanted to keep the two of you a secret, saying it’s for ‘the better for the team’, and now there he was, flirting with a random girl in a bar they were both in. She was so pretty and her hair was so flowy and she looked nothing like you. You saw red. ‘Both can play that game, Spencer’ you thought, heading back towards Emily and Garcia. “What happened, Y/N?” “You were right, Em. Spencer is just a waste of my time. Where’s that model you were talking about earlier?”

As the girl from the bar slapped him across the face, storming off to the bathroom, he thanked her as she walked past him. Going back to the table, he saw Morgan’s disappointed face staring at him. “What the hell happened?” “I don’t know. It was going well and then I guess I said something wrong, because she accused me of trying to take advantage of her, and well… you saw the rest.” “That’s a real shame, Pretty Boy. What are you gonna do know?” Spencer thought about it. What was he gonna do? He didn’t want any of this happening again, so he decided to go and find you on the dance floor and tell you he doesn’t want to keep your relationship as a secret anymore. “I’m going to go dance with Y/N!” “Oh, wow, way to go man.” He looked toward Morgan to thank him for the wishes, but saw his smile flatter. “What wrong?” “I think you may have missed your chance. Look.” He said, pointing towards the dance floor. First, he saw you, in that beautiful dress of yours. Then he saw the smile on your face. And then he saw your arms around some guy, and his arms dangerously close to the lower part of your back. He was a bit shorted than him, muscular and had light blond hair that fell just over his ears. He saw red. He knew it was sort of his idea to keep you a secret but he didn’t expect you to go out and dance with random men you found at a bar you were both in. He stood up angrily, and headed towards the dance floor.

Seeing his face twist with anger was not a sight you ever wanted to see. But you stood your ground. “Spencer, hey.” You tried to sound cheerful as if you just saw a childhood friend, not your pissed off boyfriend. You took your arms off the guy and before you could do anything with them, Spencer took your forearm, squeezing lightly. “Can we talk, Y/N?” spitting the words through his teeth. “What about?” you tried to sound innocent but the venom from your lip wrapped around the words getting out of them, and the fire in your eyes wasn’t easily dismissed. “Y/N, please.” You know it was supposed to be all insecure and sweet tricking you into feeling bad, but you weren’t backing down. “Sure, let’s get out of here.” You took the hand wrapped around your forearm, tearing it away, and pulling him towards the exit. As you entered the valley behind the bar, Spencer decided to finally talk.

“What the hell was that?” he spat. “What was what?” ”Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.” he warned. She dared chuckle. “Oh, you mean that blond guy who I was dancing with?” she gestured towards the bar. “Oh, he was so nice.” She said, dismissing with her hand. “What the hell is this about?” “I should be asking the same thing, Spencer.” He never heard his name come out of your mouth like that. He was scared.

“What were you doing with that blonde hottie at the bar, huh, Spencer?!” you yelled. “What made you laugh so hard you forgot your girlfriend was in the room, huh!?” you yelled some more. “Y/N, that…. I wasn’t…” “Oh now cats got your tongue, huh, Spencer?” “No, I… I wasn’t flirting with her.” “What Is it you were doing then?!” you yelled again. “Morgan said I should go get her number to get over you, and I went over and told her about us and asked her to slap me?!” he screamed back. “What the fuck was so funny then?!” she screamed yet again. “She said you looked like a runway model, and I agreed!” “Oh, come on!” “Its true! You can ask Morgan if you like!”

He was tired of screaming. His voice cracked with the next words. “I would never flirt with someone else. Why would I ever want to? I have you. You’re more than enough for me. You are way out of my league and I’m lucky you even looked my way.” He saw the way your eyes fell after he said that. A silence took over the both of you. She lowered her arms. “I was dancing with that guy because Emily and Garcia told me to.” Spencer looked up at that. “I was actually about to find you and ask you to dance with me instead.” Fuck. “But then I saw you with that girl. And I got mad. Like, really mad.” Shit. “I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t….I don’t….” He sure felt like shit right now. He dropped his head and looked at his shoes. He then felt a pair of fingers on his chin.

You lifted his chin so he could look at you. “Its okay, Spence, you didn’t know.” His mouth seemed to perk up at the nickname. “I’m sorry for dancing with that guy. Its just…” you stopped for a second, contemplating whether you should confess this. Fuck it. “I know about your ‘preference to blonds’. And when I saw that girl and you, I just. I got insecure and jealous and I just….” You’re pretty sure he saw the tear that fell down your cheek, but you couldn’t care. “I’m sorry, I know green is a horrible color on me.” He wiped the tear off your cheek. “You look stunning in green. In any color, if I’m being honest. But there is no need to be jealous.” You looked up at him. Staring him right in the eyes. Those beautiful, soft eyes you often found yourself getting lost in. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. You hear me? I’m in love with you. And only you.”

“I’m in love with you too.” you confessed, after some silence. “I’m sorry.” “No, I’m sorry.” “I guess we're both sorry then.” You tried your hand at humor, but Spencer didn’t laugh. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” “Were both at fault here, Spence, its ok….” “No, I’m at fault. I’m the one who brought up keeping us a secret and I shouldn’t have.” “Oh…” “I don’t want to keep you a secret. I just….” You brought your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. He leans into your palm. “I was just afraid you would be ashamed of being with me.” “Spencer.” A tear fell. “Spencer no! No. I’m not ashamed of you. I never was. Why would I be, Jesus Christ, have you seen yourself? Have you heard yourself?” Spencer then opened his eyes to look into yours. “You’re brilliant. You’re perfect for me. To me. And if I’m being honest?” Spencer nodded his head confirming he was ready to hear whatever is about to come out of your mouth. “You’re a fucking smoke show!”

I didn’t expect that. She caught me off guard. I let out a laugh. God, I love her. With every atom of my being. “Really?” He knows he shouldn’t have asked that. He felt the smack over his head before she even raised her hand. He squeezed his eyes inn anticipation. But instead, he felt both her hands on this jawline. Opening his eyes he saw the most truthful look he ever saw on a person. “Really, Spencer-nova. You’re the hottest piece of ass I ever fucking saw.” I would laugh if I wasn’t so lost in her eyes. I pulled he to me, laying my lips against her soft ones. With every kiss a new set of butterflies erupts from his stomach. Pulling away, he states. “Did you know that some butterfly species migrate from the cold? Although in many cases cold weather will end the already short life of a butterfly by rendering them immobile, others take the dropping temperature as a signal to move. Butterflies are cold-blooded and require, in ideal settings, a body temperature of approximately 85 degrees to activate their flight muscles. If the weather begins changing some species simply migrate in search of sunshine. Some, like the North American Monarch, travel an average of 2,500 miles.” She looked at me with the most love anyone has ever looked at him. “I did not know that. But I’m so fucking happy to know now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t oppose to the idea.” ”I’m sorry I ever said anything about keeping us a secret.” They were currently sitting on Y/N’s couch, after driving to her house from the bar, stripping their club clothes and putting on their favorite pj’s, watching Love, Actually. Okay Love, Actually played in the background as they kissed. A lot. And talked. Occasionally.

Suddenly your eyes widened. “Oh shit!” “What is it?” you could hear the panic in Spencer’s voice. “We didn’t tell them anything.” Spencer chuckled. “Oh, shit, indeed.” You both sprinted to their respective coats, pulling out their phones. You had 12 missed called from Garcia and 5 texts from Emily.

~From: Praying Mantis:

Y/N WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

DID SPENCER DO ANYTHING?

I SWEEAR TO GOD I WILL MURDER HIM. I’M NOT SCARED OF JAIL!

I just saw his car pulling away. I hope the two of you are okay.

ANWSER ME GODDAMN IT, IM WORRIED

~To: Praying Mantis:

Sorry, Em. We are both fine. We're together. We're fine. I'll fill you in on the deets later. Love you. ❤️

~To: Unicorn Goddess:

Srry, bb. Spence and I are finito. Spilling 🍵 ltr. Ly ❤️

~From: Praying Mantis:

Oh, thank God. Enjoy the silence now, Y/N, I’ve got a lot of questions for the two of you. Love you too. ❤️

~From: Unicorn Goddess:

Okay, bb. Hope ur having fun! 🍆 🍑 💦 Ttytmrw! Ly2 ❤️

You head a chuckle behind you. Turning your hear you saw Spencer talking on the phone. By the wolf whistles coming from Spences phone, you guessed he was talking to Morgan. “Say hi to beefcake for me!” you yelled, seeing Spences cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. “I didn’t know she was with you, dude, oh my god why didn’t you say so? Okay, okay goodbye now, enjoy your night, Pretty Boy.” Morgan all but screamed into his phone. As Spencer hung up the phone, he looked over at you. “Situation defused?” he asked. “Situation defused.” You confirmed.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x you #criminal minds

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xpeachesncream · 4 years

Text

off the grid | three

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 2.4k

chapter warnings: cussing / mature language, definitely inaccurate depiction of transportation, events and whereabouts in South Korea since i only did my research thru the internet, jimin continues to be cute as fuck for being such an angel

> series masterlist <

"Jimin!" You whined as he had hurriedly grabbed the check from the waitress and politely shoved it back in her hand with his card.

"I just wanted you to enjoy your lunch." He laughed at your pouty face - brows furrowed, lips poking out.

"That doesn't mean I can't pay for my own food."

"Can you relax? It's fine. If anything, you can just get me when we grab dessert later."

"Sure, if you don't beat me to it again."

"Maybe it's your reflexes."

"Wow, I'm a little appalled at that statement. Already judging me?"

"Never that, just being honest." He smiled. "Okay, I'm joking. Don't kill me." He laughed as he stood up and gathered his stuff. You two were spending some time going around Insa-Dong before heading to a park near the N Seoul Tower later tonight to chill.

Besides beaming with kindness, Jimin was patient. He let you walk around wherever, doing whatever, without complaining. He was also very smart, giving the inside scoop with the added bonus of tips and tricks and reciting historical facts when the perfect opportunity arose. He made fun of you for buying small, cute souvenirs because it seemed like a never ending collection, but nonetheless, he really enjoyed how happy you looked. How you glowed. How down to earth and laid back you were. Even though it hadn't been long since you met, you weren't reserved and you took him in (as he was) with ease. He was normally a shy person, but he appreciated the warmth that radiated from you. He felt comfortable, almost like you both had known each other for years.

"Come on, Y/N." He laughed. "Really? How many more pins and stickers do you need?"

"Jimin, you need to lower your voice." You joked.

"I'm sorry." He began to raise his voice, causing others to turn towards you two. "HOW MANY MORE PINS-"

"Oh my god, okay! Stop! I'll drop it!" He laughed and prevented you from dropping your items down.

"I'm just playing. I'll stop." It hit you that his hand still lingered on yours, so you quickly drop it down before shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I promise this is it." You shrugged. "For now." You kept smirking at him over your shoulder before you happily walked over to the counter. After slipping the small shopping bag into your bigger shopping bag, you met Jimin outside of the shop who had been taking pictures of the street with his polaroid camera. "Do you always do this?"

"Take pictures? Yeah, I like holding onto the memories, as cliché as that sounds. They really do hold a lot of meaning for me."

"No, I think that's pretty cool."

"Do you mind?" He slightly rose his camera towards you.

"If you take pictures of me?" He nodded silently. "No, I don't."

"Thanks. It'll add a nice touch to my collection." He quickly snapped a picture of you smiling.

The two of you continued to walk around, with Jimin making sure you didn't miss anything significant. He led the way majority of the time, dancing when he would hear music playing on the street, mimicking ads posted on the walls or simply taking more pictures. When you both had your fill of the area, he drove to a nearby bbq restaurant where you could get some jajangmyeon, samgyeopsal and other entrees ready made for takeout before grabbing dessert on the way to the park. You held onto the food while he grabbed a blanket from the trunk of his car and laid it on the grass so you two could dig in and eat.

"That's a nice ass view." You said, staring at the tower up ahead.

"I could take you up there another day. There isn't much, but the view at the tower is amazing."

"I bet."

"So, what made you want to come to here?" All this time you had been spending with Jimin had been occupied by all the plans that you hadn't been able to really talk about this. You hadn't been able to divulge about the dirty details of all things home.

"I really just wanted a break from the chaos." You shrugged.

"Mmm, really painting a great picture of Los Angeles right now." He said sarcastically before he covered his mouth to laugh.

"Sorry, it's a great place, really. I honestly can't see myself anywhere else." You sighed. "I just.. felt myself slipping, you know? I was getting lost in all the work I had to get done, all the projects on my plate. At one point I felt so stuck that I really questioned if I belonged. I'm turning 26 soon and I still feel lost."

"Impostor syndrome?"

"Yes, that."

"Why? You made it that far, haven't you? May I ask what you do back home?"

"I work in translational science." His eyes widened.

"Wow, that's amazing. You came this far, Y/N. Why would you doubt yourself like that?"

"I guess I just always feel like I need to prove myself to everyone around me."

"In work or in general?"

"It was starting to feel like I had to prove myself in general."

"That's not fair. I know it's easier said than done, but you shouldn't do that to yourself. From what I can tell, you're a great person who's down to earth and enjoys life as it comes. There's nothing wrong with that. You're where you're at for a reason. I'm sure your friends and parents are really proud of you."

"Thanks." You smiled softly. "Yeah, my parents are pretty great."

"Yeah? See, that's good. What are your parents like?"

"Well, my dad is the executive director of another lab, while my mom is a pediatric nurse."

"So, science and healthcare revolves around your family."

"Pretty much. My dad is the reason why I got so interested in pursuing a career in science. He would always teach me things growing up and I always enjoyed going to science museums with him. That's all I wanted to do."

"That's cute." He smiled. "You're really close to your parents, then."

"Yeah, I am."

"Do they know you're here?" You nodded.

"Yeah. They were just sad I didn't join them on their Europe holiday trip."

"What?! You turned that down to come here? You're something else." You laughed and tossed a crumpled napkin at him, making him dodge it.

"Hey! I told you. I just wanted to do something solo. Something different."

"I mean, are you really doing it solo if you're here with me?" He smirked.

"I'm leaving."

"No, I'm kidding." He laughed as he put his hand out to stop you. "I know, I know. For the record, I'm glad you're hanging out with me and letting me show you around."

"Nice save, Park."

"You got it, sweetness." He winked, making you shake your head at the pet name.

"What about you? What's up with you and your family? I can tell you and Yana are close."

"Yeah, we are. I'm really happy about the relationship we have. She's my older sister and she's done a lot for me. A lot." He emphasized. "I can't help but feel super protective of her. I feel like I want to shield her from the world sometimes because she's such a good person and I don't want to see her get hurt, you know? It hurts me." You nodded silently. "I know part of the reason why she agreed to this whole thing was because of her ex." You swallowed the lump in your throat because same. Fucking same.

"I get that. That's really sweet of you."

"As for the rest of my family, I mean.." He sighed. "Yeah, we're all close. I love my mom and dad. I'd do anything for them, no question about that. They've always been supportive. But, sometimes I can't help but feel like I disappoint them."

"Why do you say that? Only if you feel comfortable, though." And he did. Jimin really did. He wasn't much to talk about his personal details because he was so busy trying to make sure his people were good, that people he cared for were okay. He barely had time to look out for himself, but he didn't mind it. All he wanted was for his people to be good. If that could happen, then all was well. Plus, he would hate to have to burden someone with such negative thoughts. It wasn't the happiest topic for him.

"I do." He softly smiled at you, his eyes wide and round like a puppy. He ran his hand through his hair before adjusting his position on the blanket. You couldn't help but feel weak at the sight of him. Sheesh. He could do the bare minimum and it would still be so attractive. "My sister is super smart and successful. She's worked so hard to get to where she is now. I mean, she works for a really popular magazine here. She started as an intern, then worked her way up and now she's close to creating her own clothing line. It's been her dream and she really worked to make it happen."

"That's amazing."

"Isn't it? She's such a boss." He shook his head. "And then there's me." He scoffed. "I went to school for business, with a minor in art. But that's about it for me. I don't really know what I want to do or how to go about making my degree useful." He used air quotes. "I honestly just don't even know. I got through school just fine, but I never had set plans for myself. I help my mom and dad at their cafe, then that's it." He shrugged.

"Jimin, you still have so much time to figure out what you want to do. Don't beat yourself up just because you didn't get there as quickly as Yana or other people. Your path isn't theirs and vice versa."

"It just gets hard, you know? I want to make them proud."

"And I'm sure they are. They always will be. You have so much to offer to the world, no doubt. You'll be able to show that in time."

"Thanks Y/N, I needed to hear that. Really." He smiled. "Just you listening makes me feel better."

"You should make more time for yourself, Jimin." You already could tell what kind of person Jimin was. One that always made time for everyone but himself. One who was completely and utterly selfless.

"I know, I'm working on it." He scooped into his ice cream cup. "So, enough of me." He chuckled. "Back to you."

"What else can I say about me?"

"I don't know, Y/N. I'm sure you have a lot you can say about yourself besides being a badass scientist." You chuckled. "Is that really the only reason why you came to Seoul? To get a break from LA and work?"

"If I'm being completely honest, no." He nodded as he continued to keep his attention on scooping more of his ice cream. "I'm actually in the same boat as Yana with the whole ex situation." You scoffed. "It sounds pathetic coming from me, I know."

"No." He shook his head. "No, it doesn't."

"I dated this guy for almost 5 years. But, it was so on and off and inconsistent during the last year. After we officially broke up, I couldn't separate myself from him, even if he was treating me like shit. Like a convenience. He would come around whenever he wanted to, even though he was already seeing other girls and playing his games. I was so tired of crying and feeling hurt over the fact that I was so replaceable. I was longing to find myself again."

"I'm really sorry, Y/N. I can't apologize on his behalf, but you definitely don't deserve that."

"It is what it is."

"No, it's not. Someone who is more worried about getting their ego boosted than treating someone right doesn't deserve your time. None of this was your fault and I really hope you know that."

"It took me a long time to see it that way, of course. It was really difficult. I always questioned what was wrong with me."

"Nothing. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. Please hear me when I say that. I know we haven't known each other for long, but I really mean it. You're beautiful, smart and you have a lot of things going for you. If he can't fit in that equation, then fuck it. That's on him and that's his loss." You chuckled.

"Thanks, Jimin."

"Of course." He tilted his head to the side as he smiled. He continued to stare for a bit longer, eyeing all of your features and taking it all in. You were really beautiful to him. A work of art. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you away, but he felt compelled to be by your side while you were around. He just wanted to keep spending time with you, getting to know you and making you happy. That became his goal. "So, uh. I have a couple of more places I'd like to take you to, if that's alright?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm down to see everything and anything I can while I'm still here."

"I'll do my best." He chuckled. After you both finished up your ice cream, you threw out the empty containers and packed up the blanket before heading back home. You knew you were going to keep spending more time with Jimin and his friends, but you were beginning to feel a little sad parting ways at the end of the night. You gave Jimin a tight hug and said your goodnights before shutting the door. You threw your shoes off to the side and took a quick shower before plopping yourself into the warm sheets. Yoongi had left you a voicemail you hours ago, but you had been so caught up that you hadn't checked your phone until now. You weren't going to call back due to the time change. Namjoon and Yoongi were for sure knocked the hell out. They wouldn't hear a thing.

"Oyyy," Yoongi's raspy voice came up on the voicemail. "Just wanted to check on you and see how you were doing down there. Namjoon is out running errands but I think he's gonna be hanging out with Yana again. Call me back when you get a chance. But not when it's like 4 or 5AM here please. Take care of yourself and be safe."

#bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #jimin #park jimin #pjm series #pjm x reader #off the grid #otg #writing #jimin x reader #jimin fluff

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deancas-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

A Daydream Away - Chapter 4

Word Count: 19k+

Summary: After multiple couples go missing from a resort in northern Minnesota, Dean and Cas are forced to pose as a couple to investigate the mysterious entity. As Dean and Cas navigate their fake relationship, it leaves Dean questioning what's real and forces him to confront his feelings for Cas.

A story in which Cas is human, Dean is sometimes an idiot, and Sam acts as matchmaker.

Tags: fake relationship, case fic, sharing a bed, human!cas, Sam ships Dean and Cas, fluff, eventual smut

also available on ao3

Dean awoke to his phone buzzing on the nightstand next to him. He squinted against the morning sun filtering into the room. He could feel that it was still early but he carefully reached for his phone nonetheless. Much like the day before, Cas was practically entangled with Dean. Today he was pressed against Dean's back, with their legs intertwined. Cas' arm was resting over Dean's waist. It all felt very possessive. That thought sent a thrill through Dean. Cas has always seemed like a possessive bastard but knowing he felt possessive over Dean unlocked a lot of complicated feelings that made Dean nearly blush.

The phone buzzed again, and Dean reached for it, careful not to move so much as to jostle Cas. He managed to reach it with his fingertips and dragged it to the edge until he could grab it. Dean unplugged it and saw he had a few texts from Sam.

'I found a potential lead last night at the staff happy hour. Call me tonight and I can fill you in after I finish some research.'

'Don't forget about your dinner reservation tonight at 7. Go to the main lodge and they'll direct you.'

Just as Dean was starting to type out a response, one last message came through. 'Hope you lovebirds are enjoying your honeymoon. Make sure you use protection' followed by a bunch of heart and kissy face emojis.

Dean rolled his eyes and typed out a bitchy response but ultimately assured Sam he'd call him before their dinner reservation. After sending the message, Dean glanced at the clock and saw it wasn't even eight. If they got up now, they may even make it to breakfast in time for the cinnamon rolls Jake and Amy raved about.

"Cas, wake up," Dean half-whispered, shaking him. Cas remained unmoved and fast asleep. "Cas." He said more urgently this time. "Get up." Still no movement. Dean tried a new tactic and shook him a little harder.

Cas frowned and rolled away from Dean, grumbling to himself but still fast asleep. His hair was sticking in different directions and his shirt was bunched up, revealing a tan expanse of skin on his lower back. Dean poked him a few more times but Cas was unmoving and snoring lightly.

Dean rolled his eyes and decided to just get the damn cinnamon rolls himself. He wasn't going to miss out because Cas is a grumpy bastard in the morning. To soften the blow of attempting to wake him before 9, Dean started a pot of coffee in the cabin's kitchen for Cas to enjoy when he awoke. Then he threw on his jacket, grabbed his keys, and was off towards the lodge.

Sure enough, Jake and Amy were correct -- this was the perfect time to grab breakfast. There were few couples and families milling around, otherwise most of the tables were empty and there was no line at the buffet. Dean grabbed two to-go boxes and filled them with eggs and bacon for himself, pancakes and syrup packets for Cas, and of course a few of the large mouthwatering cinnamon rolls set up by the coffee station. He was attempting to close the lid on the full box when he made eye contact with Amy.

"I see you took our advice to get the cinnamon rolls," She smiled and grabbed one for herself.

"You two made them sound so good, how could we resist?" Dean flashed her a victorious smile as the lid gave in and finally shut. "Besides, Cas has a total sweet tooth, there's no way we would ever leave without him trying them."

"Yeah, Jake is the same way. If it were up to him, he would have pure sugar for breakfast. Before we started dating, he would have mountain dew and twizzlers for breakfast."

Dean wrinkled his nose. "That sounds like a college student's wet dream."

Amy threw her head back and laughed. "Precisely! I'm going to use that. The man is in his thirties, sometimes I think he even forgets that." She shook her head, a wistful smile forming on her face. "He wanted to have a candy buffet at our wedding. It took forever to talk him down from that idea."

"A candy bar sounds awesome," Dean pointed out. He paused and looked at her expression. "Oh God -- you don't mean as dessert, do you?"

"No, he wanted that for the dinner buffet!"

Dean laughed loudly. "That's something Cas would do. If we had a wedding -- I mean, a large wedding -- I'm sure he would have preferred if we just serve peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner. They're his favorite."

"That's actually adorable. And it would make for a cheap reception dinner."

Dean nodded in agreement as he poured coffee in a to-go cup in case the cabin coffee isn't up to Cas' standards. "Careful, if he were to hear that, he would totally hold that against me and be all pissy we didn't actually do that. Then I would have no choice but to tell Jake his candy-dinner-buffet is genius."

"Okay, okay truce! I won't say anything about the sandwiches." She responded, laughing.

Dean returned her smile. "Good thinking. You wouldn't want twizzlers and mountain dew as your wedding dinner." He grabbed the to-go boxes and coffee carrier, carefully balancing them in his arms. "Well, I better bring this back to Cas before the cinnamon rolls cool down. I know he'd want to experience them in their warm and gooey glory."

"Of course, enjoy! Tell him I say hi and that's it -- nothing else at all relating to sandwiches." She winked.

Dean playfully rolled his eyes and slowly made his way back to the car, without catching sight of Sam. Probably for the better anyway, he'd likely make some kind of dick comment about bringing Cas breakfast in bed. Which -- okay, may be true. But that's only because Cas refused to wake up this morning and he didn't want to miss out on the famous cinnamon rolls. And sure, if he was with Sam, he wouldn't have brought him anything back and would have just said "you snooze, you lose, Sammy. You can eat oatmeal and yogurt like the rest of the late sleepers." But that was part of being the older brother -- you get free reign to be a dick sometimes.

And! Cas is his fake husband! This is totally something a married couple would do for each other, Dean reasoned. So it's not weird or a romantic gesture. And okay, maybe there was a moment last night after they went sledding down the hill. At least, to him it felt like there was a moment where he wanted to kiss Cas and Cas -- well, it seemed like Cas wanted that, too. Or maybe it was just part of the case. There's really no way to know, except y'know, talking about it. But that sounded about as appealing as eating one of Sam's "nutrient rich" meals, whatever the hell those consisted of. All Dean knew was that it was mostly of veggies and no meat, so he didn't want any part in it.

Regardless, Dean wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. If he was imagining something between them, he'd never be able to recover from the embarrassment. Besides, he didn't want to ruin their friendship. For the first time, Cas has agreed to stay with them, and Dean refuses to do or say anything that would make Cas uncomfortable, thus driving him out of the bunker and away from Dean. Not for the first time in the last few days, he bitterly wished he knew what was going on in Cas' head.

By the time Dean returned to the cabin, Cas was sitting up in bed, blurry eyed with a frown etched on his face.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Dean chirped, setting the food down on the bed.

"Do I smell coffee?" Cas grunted.

"Sure do. I put a pot on and brought you a cup from the lodge. Here you go," He handed over the cardboard cup and settled next to him on the bed. Cas' frown eased as he began gulping down the coffee. "I tried waking you so we could get cinnamon rolls, but you were not having it."

"Sorry," Cas said sheepishly. "I don't even remember."

"You and your damn sleep," Dean muttered, opening the cartons of food. "Good thing you have a really thoughtful husband who ventures out into the frozen tundra that is northern Minnesota to obtain cinnamon rolls."

"Yes, good thing." Cas agreed softly. He tipped his cup back, draining the remaining of his coffee.

"Jesus, Cas. It's been like two minutes."

"It's good coffee. If you want me to also be a 'thoughtful husband,' then you should be thankful for my high caffeine intake first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, I remember that time we ran out of coffee at the bunker. You were on a warpath. Sam hid in the dungeon because you nearly called him an 'abomination' again."

"Yes, Dean. I recall. I already apologized to your brother for that."

Dean took a bite of bacon, amused. "Hey, I thought it was funny. I'm just glad you didn't turn on me, too."

"You're the one that went to the store to supply me with more coffee."

"Jesus, you make it sound like I'm your dealer or something."

"You may as well be," He pointed out, grabbing Dean's cup of coffee and taking a long drink of it.

"Yeah, yeah. Eat your damn breakfast. Those cinnamon rolls better be worth the trouble."

Cas opened his mouth, surely to respond with some sassy comment but at the last moment thought better of it and took a large bite of the cinnamon roll. The sound that emitted from his mouth was absolutely sinful.

"Oh my God, Dean." He moaned. "This is amazing."

"You want a room for just the two of you?"

"What do you mean?" Cas tilted his head as he chewed thoughtfully. "We have a room, we're in it right now."

"I -- never mind, Cas. It was a joke. It's that good, huh?"

"Yes, you must try it." He tore off a piece of his cinnamon roll and held it up to Dean's mouth. "Eat it." He ordered.

And wow, okay. The demanding tone from Cas was really working for Dean. He hesitantly leaned forward and took the piece into his mouth. His tongue momentarily brushed against Cas' finger and he swore that he saw Cas' pupils dilate. Huh.

"Yeah, 's good, Cas."

Cas looked pleased with himself and continued eating it in silence, the only sounds in the room were his small moans as he finished it off. Dean felt dazed and forced himself to finish his own breakfast.

"Dean, you have --"

"What?"

"Just, let me -- you have icing on your mouth." Cas leaned forward so he was in Dean's space and slowly dragged his finger along Dean's bottom lip. Against his lip, the pad of his finger felt calloused and rough. Cas' gaze flickered to Dean's lips before they focused on Dean's eyes.

Wait. Is he going to -- ? Dean's brain immediately stopped working as Cas held his gaze and put his finger in his mouth, sucking the frosting off it. Holy fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. Dean knew his mouth was agape and he probably looked like an idiot but he couldn't find the strength to care. Cas basically licked frosting off of him. His pink, plump lips were wrapped around his long finger and Dean's brain not-so-helpfully supplied a lot of fantasies relating to that.

Cas pulled his finger out of his mouth and went back to drinking Dean's coffee with a little smirk on his face. Asshole.

"I, uh -- I'm going to take a shower." Dean mumbled and hurried out of the room.

Dean hurried from the room and locked himself in the bathroom. He leaned against the heavy oak door and took a deep breath. Was it his imagination or was Cas flirting with him? Why else would he suck the icing off his finger like that? Sure, Cas used to have that whole 'innocent angel' going for him but now he's human and he actually acts like it. Probably Dean's bad influence, but whatever. The point is Cas had to know what he was doing, right? No one in their right mind would clean icing from their friend's face and then lick it off if they didn't want to be more than friends.

The worst part is that it was really fucking hot. Dean was already struggling to suppress his feelings for Cas and that nearly pornographic display was really not helping. But maybe he didn't need to actively suppress those feelings, not if Cas felt the same way. But did he? Dean still couldn't be sure. If Cas truly was messing around or didn't understand the connotation of his actions, then Dean would be fucking mortified. Regardless, he couldn't keep sitting around waiting for something to happen between them. So he'll push their boundaries a little and see how Cas reacts. Hopefully then he'll get a better idea of where they stand.

Dean rolled his eyes at himself for how complicated he's making this. If only he felt comfortable straight up asking Cas, but that's never been his style. At last, he peeled himself from the door and turned on the shower. He undressed and briefly considered taking an ice-cold shower to calm himself down, but he changed his mind. Turning the temperature dial to hot, he decided to address his not-so-little problem. After all, he would need to have his mind clear if he was going to read Cas for any indications of his feelings.

He stepped under the shower and nearly groaned as the hot water washed over him. The water pressure was excellent and soothed his sore muscles. His thoughts immediately turned to Cas as he began to stroke himself. The image of Cas’ pink lips sucking on his finger filled his mind as he expertly flicked his wrist around the tip. He imagined those lips around him instead and within no time he was groaning Cas’ name as he spilled into his fist.

---

Dean and Cas spent their afternoon lounging on the couch watching movies. Once Cas became human, Dean compiled a list of movies that Cas needed to watch. Most were movies that came out after Metatron uploaded all of the pop culture references into his mind so that way Cas could truly watch something for the first time. However, Dean snuck a few of his favorites onto the list like the Harry Potter series, Lord of the Rings, and a few spaghetti westerns. When Dean saw there was a Star Wars marathon on tv (another series on the list) Dean declared they would be having a lazy afternoon until it was time for the bourbon tasting.

This brings them to where they are now: sitting with their backs against opposite arms of the couch, legs tangled together under a large shared blanket and the box of chocolates from their honeymoon package sitting half eaten between the two.

Cas grabbed another piece of chocolate out of the heart shaped box, humming happily as he chewed.

"Which character is your favorite?" Cas asked, as he swallowed the candy.

"Han Solo, hands down."

"I should have known."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Dean. The parallels between you and his character are so obvious. You have the whole 'I'm better off alone' thing going for you, even though deep down you're really caring and would do anything to save your family."

Right. Cas has always been able to read him perfectly. "Whatever, man. Han Solo is cool. And Harrison Ford is a good looking dude." Dean snuck a glance at Cas to see if he'd react to that.

"I suppose," Cas acknowledged, tilting his head as he surveyed Dean. If anything, he seemed curious with a glint in his bright eyes.

"So, uh - let me guess. Your favorite character is Princess Leia?" Dean ventured.

"Actually, yes. She's always out for the victory of many, rather than personal gain. Leia is very brave and independent, too."

"Yeah, I can see why she would be your favorite. It's like you -- always working towards the greater good."

Cas smiled at Dean and his eyes crinkled around the corners. He looked so happy and so human in this moment that Dean was almost tempted to just blurt out his feelings for the man. Almost.

Instead, he threw a piece of chocolate at Cas, which he caught in his mouth, looking very pleased with himself. "You're a dork," Dean said fondly, rolling his eyes.

"I know."

"Did you just Han Solo me?"

Cas looked amused and just turned his attention back to the movie. That asshole totally Han Solo'd him.

- - -

By the time the movie ended, it was nearly time for the bourbon tasting. Dean forced himself up from the couch that had no business being so comfortable, so he could get dressed for the day. He quickly threw on some dark jeans, a t-shirt and a blue button down, which he left open. Deeming it satisfactory for the day, he threw on a coat and waited by the door for Cas to be ready.

While he waited, Dean shot off a text to Sam asking how research was going. Sam immediately responded with 'slow' and an eye rolling emoji. Dean was about to reply and rub it in Sam's face that he gets to go drink bourbon while Sam is stuck reading tomes, but it was at that moment that Cas came out of the bathroom. He was clad in black jeans that were mouthwateringly tight and one of Dean's Zepp shirts. He had become so accustomed to Cas' pristine suit and tie ensemble that sometimes seeing him dressed so casually in Dean's clothes, nonetheless, causes Dean's brain to stop working.

"Am I underdressed?" Cas asked, eyeing Dean warily. "Should I throw on a button down like you?"

"God, no." Dean said, internally wincing at the hoarseness of his voice. "I mean -- it's just a bourbon tasting. You don't have to dress up or anything." Besides, it would be an absolute crime to cover those arms. They were tanned and muscly and Cas should always wear t-shirts to show them off because damn. Dean so badly wanted to run his hands along them, feeling the muscles flex under his touch.

Cas threw on his jacket, interrupting Dean's train of thought. God, it's like he reverted back to a 14-year old's body with the way it constantly responds to Cas.

"Ready?"

"Ready," Cas confirmed, sliding on his Grand View mittens with a soft smile.

The bourbon tasting wasn't very crowded. High-top tables filled the room but only about seventy-five percent were filled. Dean and Cas grabbed a table towards the back of the room so they could keep an eye on everyone. Each table only had 2 chairs which were facing towards the front where the speaker would be. Dean realized this must be another 'couples only' event. The room was dimly lit with dark wood paneled walls, making it feel very warm and intimate. Small table lamps were on each table, along with two flights of bourbon glasses with 5 shot glasses each.

"Cas, are you going to be able to handle this? 5 shots of bourbon is a lot, this shit is strong. I don't want to have to carry you out of here."

Cas sat in the chair to the right and rolled his eyes. "I can handle my liquor just fine, Dean. You've taught me well."

"Hell, I suppose that's true." Dean joined him, sitting in the remaining chair. He scooted his chair closer to Cas and rested his arm on the back of Cas' chair.

"Right," Cas murmured. "We better get in character." He leaned in against Dean's side and rested his hand on Dean's upper thigh. It was enough inches above the knee that it certainly wasn't an innocent placement. His hand was a welcome weight on his thigh and Dean moved his arm so as to rest his hand on Cas' shoulder. He got a small smile in response, letting him know that was okay so Dean rubbed his thumb in circles against it. A soft sigh escaped Cas' mouth which was frankly adorable.

"Did Sam say he found anything else about his lead?" Cas asked, leaning into Dean's ear. Goosebumps prickled along his neck in response.

"Not yet," Dean muttered. "He said he's doing research but hasn't found anything concrete. We'll give him a call after this, we'll have some time to kill before our dinner reservations."

Cas nodded. "I feel like we haven't done much to help move this case along. I do not want Sam to feel like he's doing all of the work."

"I know. But we knew we were unlikely to get any information from guests. All we can really do is try to lure whatever it is and go from there."

"I suppose." Cas chewed on his bottom lip and Dean wanted nothing more than to release his bottom lip and kiss it. Maybe bite it, then smooth it over with a swipe of his tongue. What kind of sounds would Cas make?

"Dean."

"Hmm?" Dean dragged his eyes from Cas' lips to his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, leaving only a small ring of blue. Another look he wasn't used to reading on Cas.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"We need to move the case along. Kiss me."

Right. The case. That's why Cas wants to kiss him. No other reason. Dean sighed, a little dejected. He was hoping to avoid this because he knows once he does, it's going to be torture knowing what it's like to kiss Cas without being able to do it again whenever he wants.

"Are you su--?" Dean didn't get to finish his sentence because with a frustrated growl, Cas grabbed the collar of Dean's shirt and pulled him in, pressing their lips together. It started chaste. A dry press of their lips, soft and warm and innocent. Then Cas sighed into Dean's mouth and made a small sound in the back of his throat. And that made Dean absolutely feral.

His fingers pressed into Cas' hips as he licked into his mouth. He was warm and tasted like honey and chocolate. The smell of his aftershave surrounded him, and it was all just so delicious. Their lips perfectly slotted together, and the kiss was slow and languid, like they all had night and could take their time exploring each other. Dean always imagined their first kiss would be frantic and rough, filled with the unresolved sexual tension from over the course of ten years. He never imagined it could be so sweet, yet so hot. It was everything he'd been waiting for and so much more. Except that it still wasn't enough. He needed more -- he needed to feel Cas against him, he needed to explore every part of him and kiss him so hard that he becomes dazed and all he can do is chant Dean's name like a prayer.

Distantly, a door slammed shut, reminding the two that they were in a very public place, and not in the privacy of their cabin. They jumped apart, flushed and hearts pounding. Dean stared at Cas, his lips were parted, red and swollen, as he breathed heavily.

Dean momentarily closed his eyes, breathing through his nose as he tried to calm his body down. The last thing he needed was for someone to see he was rock hard at a bourbon tasting. He peeked at Cas, who looked just as debauched.

"Jesus, Cas." Dean groaned. One kiss and he was completely hooked. How the hell would he ever be able to look at Cas and his mouth and not think about kissing him?

"Sorry," He nervously licked his lips. "I may have gotten carried away."

"You -- ? No, man. If anything, I got carried away. It's just -- ah, it's been a while since someone kissed me like that. That's all."

Cas nodded, his small smile back. "I'm glad I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Dean laughed humorlessly. In reality, it just solidified his attraction for the guy and he's pretty sure that kiss is going to be the thing that ultimately kills him. "If anything, we just made sure we're target number one."

Something flickered on Cas' face, but it was gone before he could get a good read on it. Before he could analyze too heavily, the speaker greeted everyone and began giving an overview of the brands of bourbon poured out in front of them.

Dean half-listened as he introduced himself and gave his credentials. He told Cas it had been a while since he'd been kissed like that, but truthfully had he ever been kissed like that? He didn't think so.

"The first glass in front of you is Old Forester 1897. From Kentucky, Old Forester is known for making affordable high-quality bourbon," The man explained. "Tasting this first glass, you should note rich vanilla with roasted coffee notes and spiced overnotes. This one is big and bold, with a dark caramel finish. Take the next few minutes to try this one and discuss it with your partner. I recommend trying it in sips, focusing on each of the flavors I mentioned. Enjoy!"

Quiet conversation broke out in the room. Dean sniffed the amber liquid and his mouth nearly watered. Typically, he drinks the cheap stuff because that's what is always around. So, having the opportunity to taste some high-quality bourbon put Dean in an instant good mood. Any awkwardness from the kiss quickly faded and Dean was grateful for the distraction.

"Cheers," Dean said happily. He clanked his shot glass against Cas and drank it all in one go. It burned down his throat into his chest and instantly he felt the warmth spread through him. And now that the guy mentioned it, yeah, he could taste the hint of caramel.

"You were supposed to sip it." Cas frowned. "Not drink it all at once."

"It was just a recommendation, Cas. You can drink it however you want."

Cas didn't look happy with Dean's answer and took another sip of the bourbon. Dean watched as Cas' throat swallowed the bourbon and suddenly he was regretting drinking it all in one go. Watching Cas savor the drink made him wish he had something to distract himself with.

He quickly tore his eyes away from Cas' mouth for the millionth time that day. "What do you think, Cas?"

"I like it. It makes me feel...warm."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, bourbon will do that to you. It's the best drink to have in winter for that exact reason."

The bourbon man clapped his hands together to gather everyone's attention. "I see most of you have finished the 1897, so I'll move forward onto the next one. This next one is perfect for the colder months - "

Dean lifted his eyebrows at Cas as if to say see, I told you so. Cas smiled and turned his attention back to the speaker.

" - it is another Old Forester bourbon, but this one is the 1910. It has notes of cherry, dark chocolate, maple syrup and a hint of spice. For those of you who prefer sweet to spice, this is the bourbon for you." He continued sharing trivia about the Old Forester brand and the barrels used to make these bottles. "Now that I've given you all time to clear your taste pallets, enjoy the 1910!"

Dean focused this time on savoring the glass instead of drinking it in one large gulp. He had to admit, Cas was right. When he took the time to savor the flavors he could actually pick up on the cherry and dark chocolate. Before all he tasted was the burn of it.

"I really like this one." Cas announced. His cheeks were a little pink from the alcohol which Dean thought was endearing as hell. "I like the maple syrup flavor."

"When we get home, I'll have to introduce you to the finer bottles of whiskey I've been saving for a special occasion. You'll love it."

Cas titled his head. "But you said you're saving it for a special occasion?"

"Hell, Cas. We saved the world and we're all together. It can't get more special than that."

"I suppose not."

The rest of the tasting continued the same. The speaker would explain the bourbon they were tasting and include some interesting facts (all bourbon is whiskey but not all whiskey is bourbon) and sometimes some gross ones (like before there were strict FDA regulations, distilleries used to include substances like tobacco spit and dirt in their whiskey barrels for flavor) and by the time they finished their fifth and final glass, Dean and Cas were feeling the effects of the bourbon. Cas more so, his speech was a little slurred but he could hold himself upright just fine. He was in that perfect tipsy zone and Dean wasn't far behind him.

The lodge offered a free shuttle service for everyone back to their cabins so the guests wouldn't have to stumble back to their cabins in the cold. Dean happily took them up on that service because he knew he wasn't in the right state to drive. The shuttle was a small bus with only a few rows of seats. They grabbed a seat in the back while a few of the other couples from the class climbed in.

With a low rumble, the shuttle started and lurched forward. It headed along the road towards Dean and Cas' cabin, making stops along the way for the other guests. Cas leaned into Dean's side and sighed happily, nuzzling his face in the crook of Dean's shoulder.

"Mmm, 's nice." His voice was muffled against Dean's coat. "You're warm."

"You're drunk."

"Just a little," He pressed a kiss to his shoulder and Dean's breath hitched. Was this part of the act or was this Cas with his guard down? He leaned more into Dean and gripped Dean's arm. To any onlooker, there would be no doubt they're a couple. That thought sent a little thrill through Dean, secretly pleased by that idea. Who knew he was so possessive?

The bus stopped at the access road leading up to their cabin, so Dean nudged Cas and ushered him off the bus. They stepped out into the cold and Dean felt it sober him up a little. Cas must have felt the same because he was holding himself up straighter and his eyes seemed a little less cloudy. They trudged up the road leading to their cabin and Dean grabbed a hold of Cas' hand, noting the small smile which formed.

"Should we call Sam?"

"Yes, good idea." Dean pulled out his phone with his free hand and dialed Sam's number. It rang a few times then went to voicemail. "Did he reject my call?"

"That seems very out of character for Sam."

Dean tried again. On the second ring he picked up, sounding out of breath. "Dean?"

"Dude, did you reject my call?"

"Uh, sorry. I was - uh in the middle of something."

Dean and Cas exchanged a confused look. "Why are you out of breath? I know you're not running in this weather."

"No reason. I just -- what's up? Are you guys alright?"

"Dean and I drank bourbon at the tasting and now I feel really warm," Cas announced.

"Are you guys drunk?" Sam sounded amused.

"No!" They both said in unison.

"Just, tell me about the lead you found."

"Oh, right! I don't really know much yet. But last night at happy hour the staff was talking about local legends and there was this one that targets young people in love. I don't remember the name of it, but it sounded like it fit the bill. The locals didn't know much that sounded helpful so I'm having Donna look into it."

"That sounds promising," Cas agreed. "Do you remember any other details?"

"Not any that are helpful. I had to really sift through a lot of stuff that isn't our kind of thing. You know how these legends get so twisted over the years."

"Well, keep us posted if Donna finds anything."

"Yeah, will do. Just hang tight until --"

A loud crash echoed over the phone and a woman's voice carried through, saying something intelligible.

"Sam." Dean warned. "Who's there with you?"

"Um --"

"So help me -- if you are with another woman I'm going to be pissed. Eileen is so beyond your league and the fact that you're even willing to risk that..."

"Shit." Sam sighed over the phone. "Switch to facetime."

Dean did as Sam said and was greeted with Sam's anxious face. "So uh -- Eileen is here." He turned the camera and was greeted by Eileen smiling sheepishly.

Cas signed something to Eileen and she laughed in response. Dean focused the camera back on his face so Eileen could read his lips. "What are you doing in Minnesota?"

"My hunt in Iowa wrapped up early, so I came up here to join Sam."

"I thought your hunt was in Ohio?" Cas questioned.

Eileen had a look that was equal parts sympathy and panic on her face as she handed the phone back to Sam.

"Sam, what the hell? Was Eileen not actually on a hunt?"

"No." He admitted. "She wasn't."

"Then why the hell did you send us on this hunt when you two could have done it?"

Now Sam just looked uncomfortable and Dean suddenly realized what was going on. "You've got to be kidding me." Sam opened his mouth to respond but Dean cut him off. "Nope. Not discussing this with you. Not now, not ever. We have to go, keep us updated on the case."

"Bye!" Eileen yelled from the background before the screen went black.

"I don't understand what just happened." Cas said, looking genuinely confused. "What did Sam do?"

"He set us up! To take this case when he and Eileen could have done it."

"But what did he set us up with?"

"Each other, Cas." Dean said strained.

"Oh." He squeaked and blushed furiously.

Oh.

Maybe he wasn't going to kill Sam after all.

#destiel fanfiction #deancas #destiel #destiel fluff #destiel fanfic #fake dating #dean and cas #fanfiction #supernatural #spn

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animeyanderelover · 4 years

Note

You added more prompts?! Wow! I'd like prompt 90 with Ronald please. If that's alright? I've never requested him before(if you don't count my request with all the Reapers) so I'm interested how it would turn out?!

I always wanted to write more about Ronald so I’m all up for this.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, manipulation, killing, blood, violence

Prompt 90: “Babe...! Shit! I’m sorry you had to see this, but please believe me! He deserved it! No,no,no, don’t be scared of me. You know I would never harm you.”

You had to have a bad nightmare. Yeah, that must be it. In reality you were right now laying in your bed and just had a bad dream. You just needed to wake up. That was all. You quickly pinched yourself in your arm, hoping to wake up like this. But you didn’t. The only thing you gained from it was a burning pain from where you had pinched yourself, staring almost hypnotized at the red mark that was slowly starting to rose on your skin. A mark that showed you that this wasn’t a dream. No. This was reality. The harsh and painful reality. Something that you didn’t want to accept. He had lied to you. He had lied all this time to you. You should have known that someone like him couldn’t be a human. He had been too nice, too friendly, too charming. Too good to be true. And you had fallen for that. Who wouldn’t have when a young and handsome man had been wooing someone like he had done with you? Ronald had always been there for you, even after you had suddenly somewhat became lonely. You didn’t know why suddenly all contact you used to have had been died out, but you had at least Ronald with you. Ronald had been always there for you. He had been your shoulder to cry on, had always given you enjoyable times and had always tried his hardest to make you laugh. You had sometimes felt like you didn’t deserve him. You had always thought of him as an angel who had appeared in your life to keep you safe.

But with blood soaking his clothes, hair and spectacles you had to overthink this because right now he looked everything, but angelic. He had killed that guy...He had killed that guy! Why? Why had he killed this man?! What had he ever done wrong?! You could only stand there, watch the scene in front of you displaying. How had you even gotten in this position? Why had you been here in the first place? You knew you had a reason and motivation for why you had decided to go that late that night out. But in that moment your mind was too messed up to think of that reason, being busy with sorting the thoughts that were whirling around in your head. You didn’t know what to do, not wanting to watch this anymore, but also not being able to move. You were rooted on the ground, watching Ronald and the still flowing out blood from the man. Ronald didn’t look like he had noticed you so far, just sighing annoyed and letting one of his hands run through his, now blood covered, blond strands of hair. “You’re honestly just a nuisance. Because of you I have to do more paperwork now. But you know what? I’m fine with that. If it means that you won’t be able to put your plan into action I’m willing to endure the pile of paperwork. Everything to protect my sweet (y/n) from scum like you.”

Your breath hitched slightly in your throat, feeling your heart picking it’s pace overwhelmingly fast up. He had killed for you?! No! You didn’t want this! You had never asked him to go that far for you! He could be sent into prison because of this! But then you remembered what you had just seen. You doubted that the police would be able to overpower him and this...tool of his. How could he look so perfectly fine whilst standing above a corpse which he had killed in the first place? He acted so cheerful. No signs of regret or guilt, giving you the terrifying thought that he might have done it a lot of times before. And he looked indeed like he had done it a lot of times before, making you flinch when he suddenly started whistling. How could he?! How could he be like this?! Your emotions were out of your control, you felt like they were bullets which hit you over and over again, making you somewhat dizzy and leading you to having a harder time to breathe. Everything in front of you started to become blurry, but only when you felt something wet trailing down your skin did you realize that it was due to your own tears. The many emotions inside of you caused your head to hurt and your heart to clench. You were angry, confused, heartbroken and sad, felt betrayed and disappointed at the man you had thought to be able to trust the most from all people. But that had been a lie. He was just like everyone else. But that didn’t mean that the knowledge of it still stung. You didn’t even notice when a guttural sound escaped your lips, not being able to hold it back.

It sounded strange, your whine echoing through the dark night, building a contrast to the silence that was crawling in it, making it stand out even more. And Ronald must have heard it as well because he suddenly tensed up, his whole body being alarmed by the sudden noise before quickly snapping his head around, eyes narrowed in suspicions. But the moment he layed eyes on you they widened in shock and surprise. “Babe...! Shit!” You flinched visibly when he called you by the nickname, one of the many he called you, you had used to always love. But now it didn’t cause the butterflies to erupt in your stomach like it used to always have. Instead it caused a sickening tingling somewhere deep down in your core, giving you the feeling of being able to throw up at any minute. The fact that you got a, oh so nice, look on the dead body didn’t make it better, watching all the blood still flowing out of his already dead body and noticing how his eyes had so far rolled back in his eyes that you only saw the white in his eyes. You had never taken Ronald for someone messy, but in this case it looked like he had lost himself a bit. You desperately tried to tear your gaze away from the corpse, but for some reason it stayed frozen on it, not being able to look away. You started trembling, suddenly feeling very cold. But not because of the chilly night air.

“I’m sorry you had to see this, but please believe me! He deserved it!” You didn’t even fully registered his panicked words nor did you register when he quickly stepped towards you. The only thing your brain was able to focus on was the dead man, your thoughts seemingly drowning in the dark red liquid surrounding his body. Your mind repeating the same sentence over and over again, seemingly the only thing you were able to think of right now. “Ronald killed him! Ronald killed him! Ronald killed him! Ronald killed him! Ronald kil-“ You were thrown out of your loop of anxious and shocked thoughts as well as your paralyzed state when you felt Ronald laying one of his hands on your shoulder. And your body responded the only way it would respond in every situation when a killer would touch you. Instantly jerking back and getting into a run-or-fight state. Every muscle in your body was strained, ready to be used to it’s full potential. You felt adrenaline starting to get pumped through your system, giving you a sudden boost of energy. But it also caused a boost in your emotions, letting you feel the fear inside of you even greater. You bit your bottom lip to prevent it from wobbling, but the way you always took a step back when he stepped forwards or just the look with was almost screaming I’m scared” told him only too clearly how you felt. And you instantly noticed the frown on his face upon seeing you being afraid of him.

“No,no,no, don’t be scared of me. You know I would never harm you.” There was a switch in his tone. Before it had been panicked and shocked. But now it had changed. It sounded almost like he was cooing at you, his voice sounding so sweet and charming that it made you feel even more ill than you felt already. It was the same tone he had always used when you had cried over something and he had tried to comfort you. And this tone had normally always been something that had made you fell better, but now it had the complete opposite effect. The scene of him looking all too much like his usual happy self appearing in your head when he had talked to the dead. He was two-faced. Who could tell if he wouldn’t kill you at any moment too? Ronald seemed to read your thoughts from your facial expression, trying his hardest to keep his composure. “(y/n), do you seriously think I would ever hurt you? Haven’t I proved my love to you countless times?” He sounded somewhat disappointed and hurt, making you stop in your tracks and look at him. His friend visibly deepened, twisting in a somewhat painful mask. And to your huge surprise you felt guilt sparking up inside of you, his actions pulling on your heart strings like he had intended too. He wasn’t completely wrong. For as long as you could remember Ronald had only been sweet and doting to you, always helping you with whatever you had needed. You really didn’t want to believe that he would hurt, or even worse, kill you.

But that didn’t help erasing that you had just seen him killing someone in a way no human could, raising two questions inside of you. Why had he killed that man? And what was he? You were still shaking like a leaf, but now you stood frozen on your place, not moving an inch. Not even as Ronald took slow and more cautious steps towards you, not wanting to risk you losing it and sprinting away from him. This situation had been already complicated enough as it was from the moment you had seen everything with your eyes. And if you should run away it would get even more difficult. And in all honesty, he would prefer it if he could have it the more easy way. Ronald wasn’t a person who liked making things more harder to deal with than they could be. So he silently hoped with every step he took closer to you that you wouldn’t have a change of mind in the last second. He only allowed himself to be a bit more relaxed when he stood right in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulder and letting a small sigh of relief out. You hadn’t done everything. That meant he hadn’t have to terrify you even more of him than he had already done.

You still didn’t have enough courage to look him into his face, letting your head hang low in an attempt to avoid his eyes. His face was still smeared with blood and having him so close to you caused the smell of blood to invade your sense of sense, making everything spin in your head for a few moments. That was until Ronald moved one of his hands under your chin and forced you to look up, right into his face. Your eyes instantly started darting around, refusing to see the sticky liquid splattered on his face and soaking his hair. That was until you heard him saying in a charming, yet also somewhat strict voice:”Look at me.” And you listened, the sweet tone he was using drawing you in, like it had always done. You knew that face he was giving you too well. The face filled with adoration for you, ready to charm you in whatever way possible to make you just as infatuated with him as he was with you. Back then you had found that cute, but now you realized how dangerous this was. The way he was able to make someone fall so hardly for him was a problem. The way he was gazing over you and causing a mix made of fear, but also warmth bubble up inside of you was dangerous. He was dangerous for you because he had the ability to make you addicted to him. And you knew if you wouldn’t do something now the already tight grip he had on you would only keep getting stronger until you wouldn’t be able to escape. But how could you run away from someone without leaving a part of yourself behind?

So against your own will, or at least part of your own will, you could slightly feel yourself relax after a minute or two in his grip. This made Ronald smile slightly, starting to feel better due to seeing that he still held some power over you. “I have a lot to explain to you, don’t I? Let’s just leave this place before someone sees us. I promise I’ll tell you everything once we get home. Alright?” You didn’t know whether to feel disgusted or not when hearing his gentle voice, luring you to him like he had done all the many times before. And just like in the past it worked this time as well. “O-okay.”

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere ronald #yandere ronald knox

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geeks-universe · 4 years

Text

& To All a Goodnight.

Dean Winchester x Reader

Request: For requests could you do a dean x reader where they spend Christmas together and it's a lot of fluff?😳😳

Requested by: Anonymous

Holidays were never really celebrated at the bunker.

If you were being honest, most of the time you weren’t even sure what day it was, let alone preparing for festivities regarding some day that was probably tied to some horrible historical event.

But, if you were being more honest, you really did love Christmas.

It wasn’t so much the religious connotations- which had grown considerably more complicated when you considered your relationship with angels- but more so the idea of holiday cheer, and an unexplainable magic in the air. As a kid, you had loved Christmas. You celebrated from the beginning of November, right up until the day itself, baking cookies, watching cheesy holiday movies, and decorating every square inch of the house.

After losing your parents, and the subsequent descent into the life of a hunter, you hadn’t really been able to celebrate. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, though it was considerably a difficult time for the first couple years, but you hadn’t had a chance. You were constantly on the go. The closest thing to a home you had was the warm embrace of Dean Winchester and the backseat of the Impala, which Sam had argued he was too big for. (He was, but you liked sitting shotgun.)

With the bunker though, you had an opportunity to celebrate like you hadn’t in years.

And you did.

Sam and Dean had left for the week. Well, five days maximum, if Dean were to be trusted, but you knew him well enough to know that meant seven days minimum. You had cracked a couple of ribs on the last hunt, and with Castiel MIA, you were stuck healing the old-fashioned way.

Never one to be cooped up for an excessive amount of time, you had gone all out with the decorations. Every room had an overwhelming amount of Christmas cheer, save Dean and Sam’s room.

And the tree!

Oh my goodness, the tree!

You had gone out and got a fresh tree, straight from a Christmas tree farm. Red and gold adorned the green needles, creating a homey atmosphere among the living room typically used to unwind after rough cases. You decided on a star to put atop the tree, as opposed to an angel. (It was bad enough you had them popping up in real time, you didn’t want them to ruin the Christmas cheer.)

You hadn’t stopped there, either. You bought and wrapped both Sam and Dean enough gifts to fill out the empty base of the tree. Dean had confided in you once that he couldn’t even remember what a normal Christmas was like, so you were determined to give the boys the best one yet.

And, when four whole days had passed of decorating, you moved onto baking. Chocolates, cookies, pies- you name it. You had gone slightly overboard, but the boys still weren’t back yet, and Christmas was slowly creeping closer.

Would they be back in time?

You certainly hoped so. They hadn’t given you an update in nearly a full day, but you had a 48 hour rule- 48 hours before any of you unleashed hell upon whatever case the one who hadn’t contacted was working on.

Though, after putting away all of the goodies, you’d snuggled up on the couch and put on a cheesy, and wholly predictable, Christmas romantic comedy while waiting for your boys. You were worried, and it took three and a half movies before you were able to fall asleep, but eventually, to the gentle lull of Christmas music, your eyes slipped shut on Christmas Eve.

Sam and Dean were practically dragging themselves into the bunker by the time they made it home. It was a long haul back, and they hadn’t even managed to check in with you.

Dean had been adamant about making it back before Christmas. He had been holding onto a special gift for you for months, and maybe it was a little cheesy, but he couldn’t wait to see your face when you opened it.

“Wow.”

Sam had been the first to step back into the bunker, and Dean couldn’t see over his giraffe of a younger brother, so he was left to wonder what “wow” meant. He wasn’t left waiting for long though, because as soon as he got through the door, he saw the decorations all placed precariously throughout the room, making the bunker feel a little more like a home.

“So much for rest,” Dean muttered, already preparing his worried, yet heartfelt speech about why injuries were not to be taken lightly.

“That’s exactly what I need,” Sam hid a yawn behind his hand. “I’m heading to bed, I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Dean waved him off, following the string of multi-colored lights to the living room. You had a habit of waiting on the couch for him when he was gone, like you thought you could stay awake a few extra hours just in case he made it home early. It brought a smile to his face.

As expected, you were stretched out of the couch, clothed in an old, oversized t-shirt of his. His blanket was wrapped snugly around your body, and the corner of your lips were pulled up like you were having a good dream.

Unable to help himself, he slipped his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick photo of you. He had an album in his camera roll, labeled with just a heart, that consisted solely of the photos that made him fall a little more in love with you.

It was created the day after he met you, and there were already several hundred photos in it.

“(Y/N),” Dean called softly, careful rousing you. As a hunter, you were sometimes a little too aggressive if you were suddenly woken up.

“Dean,” you whispered back, your eyes still shut, but the beginnings of consciousness seeping in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replied, dropping down onto his knees to get closer to you.

By the time you opened your eyes, he was right there, running his thumb along your cheek.

“How’d the hunt go?” You inquired, leaning into his touch.

His lips quirked up.

“A few bruises, Sammy’s hair got a little messed up, nothing serious.”

You breathed a laugh, reaching up to cradle his head with your hands. He kissed your wrist as you did so.

“Looks like Santa got here early,” Dean commented after a moment, nodding his head in the direction of the tree.

“Guess so,” you stated, failing to keep the smile off your lips. “Hope you’ve been good this year.”

His brows raised, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Darling,” he drawled, “You and I both know I haven’t.”

You giggled at his silly joke, moving to sit up so you could embrace him a little better. He took the sudden vacancy as an opportunity to slip into the spot beside you. His arms wrapped more firmly around your waist, tugging you onto his lap.

“I missed you,” you hummed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Of course you did,” he teased, pressing his lips to your cheek. He stayed there for a moment, letting the warmth of your skin seep into the cold whispers the days without you had brought.

“I’ve got a present for you,” he said suddenly, shifting a bit to pull the gift from his pocket.

“I think you’re supposed to open gifts on Christmas,” you reminded him, listening to the strong beat of his heart against your head.

“I mean, it’s passed midnight,” he argued, holding a small box out in the palm of his hand.

It was made of wood, and had a symbol you didn’t quite understand carved into the smooth mahogany, but you took it with a smile nonetheless.

“You didn’t have to get me a gift,” you stated. You had meant for this Christmas to be all about him and Sam.

“Open it,” he urged, ignoring your objection without hesitation.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, popping the box open with a soft click.

It was a necklace. The chain and pendant were both a shiny silver, though the pendant was shaped like a compass. You gasped, reaching out to run a finger along the craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” you told him. “Why the compass?”

Even in the dim light provided by the Christmas decorations, you could see the red on his cheeks.

“So you’ll always find your way home to me.”

It was very much an un-Dean thing to say. He had, in recent months, been exceedingly comfortable with you, and had allowed himself to say some of what he had hidden under his gruff, macho exterior.

It was endearing.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“It’s made from the knife you stabbed me with.”

While that sentence would sound totally bonkers from anyone else, and honestly make you question whether you should be in jail, the story wasn’t quite as cut and dry as Dean made it seem.

You and Sam had to perform a ritual to force the creature possessing Dean out of his body. In order to do so, you’d had to get some amount of blood. However, the creature had made it nearly impossible, and in the end you’d sent the blade through his hand.

Cas had been there to heal him up, but Dean hadn’t let you live that one down ever since. It had been used in one too many guilt trips.

“I was-”

“Saving my life, I know, I know,” he interrupted with a laugh.

You lightly pushed against his shoulder.

“You’re a jerk,” you claimed, admiring the gift. It was really pretty, and the details were immaculate.

“But you love me,” he sing-songed.

“I do,” you agreed, leaning up to kiss his jaw. His eyes slipped shut as you did so. “Somehow.”

“Funny,” he retorted dryly. “Now let’s get you to bed, since you obviously didn’t rest while we were gone.”

Yeah, you were definitely expecting some sort of a lecture on your inability to rest, despite being injured. At least he’d let you cuddle some before launching into it.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

Text

Worthy, pt 3

The air rushing in my ears was the first thing I heard when I came to. Angela was kneeling beside me, her hand smacking my face lightly. Her mouth moved as she said something, but I couldn’t hear her over the white noise in my head. I put my hand to my head and sat up. The world was spinning. Angela looked over my shoulder and spoke again. A moment later strong arms lifted me under the legs and back. I looked up into Thor’s concerned blue eyes. Gone was the big smile and jovial demeanor. He didn’t look angry though. Just concerned. He carried me over to the deck chair and sat me down. Dr. Banner was headed toward us with a bag of ice, and Pepper and Tony were rushing along behind him. Some noise finally started to break through the ringing in my ears.

“Ella Carmichael, how do you fare?” Thor’s voice was a low rumble. I looked at him as he squatted beside me.

“What just happened?” I asked.

“That is the question, indeed. It would seem you lifted Mjolnir,” he picked up the hammer and held it so the light from inside illuminated the writing on the face of it. Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor. I could feel my brow furrowing. I possessed the power of Thor? It certainly didn’t feel that way when the bolt of lightning shot through my body.

“Oh god, did I steal your power from you?” I gasped. He shook his head.

“My father enchanted Mjolnir, so that only those worthy to wield her could lift her. You have not taken my power, but should you continue to be able to heft Mjolnir, you may be able to access the powers that she has given me. I did not think it possible, from a Midgardian,” he explained.

“What do you mean, not possible?” I eyed the hammer where it sat on the deck beside me.

“What he means is that he has yet to meet anyone capable of lifting it. I can’t. No one on the Avengers Initiative can. We’ve all tried.” As if to prove his point, Tony wrapped his hand around the handle of the hammer and tugged. It didn’t budge.

“Even Dr. Banner can’t?” I was surprised. Dr. Banner came to stand beside Tony.

“Even the Other Guy can’t,” he corrected, his voice full of gentle reproach. I blinked and looked away, embarrassed I’d made him uncomfortable.

“Then why was I able to?” I looked back at Thor. He shook his head.

“I cannot fathom why. It bears more investigation. But perhaps not tonight,” he suggested. I nodded blankly. Tony stepped closer and held out his hand to me.

“Are you feeling like you could stand? We’re gathering a bit of an audience. It would probably be good to show everyone that you’re okay,” he suggested. I took the offered hand and pulled myself to my feet. “I will understand completely if you would like to make it an early night, Ella.”

“I think I will. Thanks Tony. I had a chance to meet with Markus and that was the most important goal for the night.” I leaned over to pick up my shoes, and lost my balance. Thor caught me, his large hand stabilizing me, and steadying me on my feet.

“Perhaps I should escort you to your suite, Ella Carmichael,” he offered. I smirked at the weird way he said my name and shook my head.

“That’s not necessary, but thanks.” I opted to leave my heels off and padded across the deck in my bare feet, Angela close beside me. She stayed nearby, but quiet until we got to my suite. When I tried to swipe my passcard for access to my room, it didn’t work. She pressed a few buttons on the keypad beside the passcard reader and nodded.

“When I saw the sparks coming off you, I figured your passcard would be fried. I’ll bring up a new card before I go home, but in the meantime, the keycode is your birthday,” she followed me into my suite. I pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the counter, holding it to my forehead.

“Do you suppose I’m in a lot of trouble?” I groaned.

“From the look on Thor’s face, I think probably. You certainly aren’t a boring science geek, that’s for sure,” she laughed. I hung my head in defeat. “Question? Where are your glasses?” My hand flew up to my face, and sure enough, my glasses were gone. I looked at Angela, and back to my hand, and was surprised to see that my vision was almost in focus. It wasn’t perfect, but it certainly was better than it usually was.

“They must have flown off,” I guessed. There was a knock at my door. I walked over and opened it, letting Dr. Banner in. He held out my glasses to me. “Wow, that was perfect timing.”

“You lost these,” he offered. I took them and put them back on and blinked against the strength. I pulled them back off.

“Yeah, Angela had just noticed. Thank you, Dr. Banner,” I murmured, holding my hand back up in front of my face.

“Bruce,” he corrected. I smiled.

“Thank you, Bruce.” I suddenly felt shy, concerned about what this remarkable, brilliant man, must be thinking about me. He probably thought I was a mess and was grateful he wouldn’t be working with me.

“How do you feel?” His eyes focused on me, almost like he was assessing me. But he wasn’t a medical doctor.

“Weird. Tingly. My ears are still ringing. My heart is kind of tight. Jumpy maybe?” I wasn’t sure. He took my wrist and placed his fingers across the pulse point, looking over my shoulder at the clock on the wall. He flipped my hand over and pressed down on the nail bed of my thumb.

“Your pulse is pretty erratic. There’s probably some sleepytime tea in your cupboard, it’s part of the first grocery order when you move into the tower. Brew a pot and have a mug. The chamomile will help settle you,” he suggested. I nodded, but made no move to go into the kitchen and find my kettle. Angela started opening cupboards to find the tea.

“Thanks again, Bruce.” I felt a bit like a star-struck school girl, tongue-tied and so incredibly awkward.

“I have some experience with the out of the ordinary.” His smile was sad. “I should get back to the reception. I’m sure I’ll see you around the labs.” He excused himself and crossed back to the door, pulling it shut behind him. Angela handed me a slice of cheese and some crackers.

“Eat while the tea steeps,” she ordered. “I didn’t realize you had a thing for Bruce Banner.” Her tone was light and teasing.

“Shut up!” I came back to myself, flushing. “I respect his intellect and –“

“And his artfully messy hair and deep, brooding eyes have nothing to do with it, right?” She laughed. I resisted the urge to throw my cheese at her.

“It certainly complicates things,” I admitted. “When I was doing my undergrad, I used to have this fantasy where I would meet him because of my research and we would happily science together for the rest of our lives. I wasn’t thinking about him being cute, I just really loved his approach to research and you know how sometimes when you have an awesome teacher you just kind of crush on them? His research was incredible.”

“You seriously have a crush on Bruce Banner?” Angela handed me a steaming mug.

“I don’t think, I don’t know. Maybe? He’s really nice. I wasn’t expecting him to be really nice. Sometimes the really brilliant guys are a little,” I trailed off.

“Too much like Tony?” Angela filled in.

“Yeah. Brilliant and amazing, but they know it.” I hadn’t dated much in university because the guys who appealed to me the most had generally been like Tony. Brilliant, but arrogant. Not that I thought Tony Stark was a bad person. Not that I knew him well enough to make a generalization either way, actually. But Tony Stark had earned the right to be arrogant in a way that most of the guys I was in university with had not. And Tony Stark was unabashedly enthusiastic about the research and work of others. And that had also been missing from the men I’d known in university. As a result, I’d avoided dating, and instead developed a rockstar crush on Bruce Banner. “Anyhow. I had a crush on Bruce Banner. During my undergrad. He seems very nice. But I’m not a freshman anymore.”

“Okay. Are you okay if I leave you, or do you need some help getting settled for the night?” Angela asked, her brow furrowed.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about bringing me another passcard tonight; we can do it in the morning. I’m going to draw a bath and have a soak. I’ll see you for breakfast?” I wasn’t sure I would find much on my own. The day had been such a whirlwind.

“Yes. I will pick you up and we’ll hit the commissary. It’s build your own waffle morning.” She grabbed her purse from the counter and waved good night. I turned to the bathroom and started the water running in the ridiculously large bathtub and added an equally ridiculous amount of bubble bath. I stripped down out of my dress, and tied my hair back in a loose bun. I padded across the apartment and hung up my dress and realized things were getting blurrier. I stopped in the kitchen to grab my glasses and I was pleased to notice my crappy vision was considerably improved by putting my glasses back on. Our world was so different since the Battle of New York that I still had lingering concerns that I’d somehow stolen Thor’s powers and become some sort of Super Science Nerd. While I was in the kitchen, I decided a glass of wine was in order. Whatever had shocked me when I picked up Thor’s hammer had also sobered me right up. The tea had finished the job.

When I got back to the bathroom, the tub was ready. I finished stripping and slid under the bubbles, tension melting out of my shoulders as they hit the water.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The day wasn’t a failure just because I’d picked up some magic hammer. I’d had a successful orientation with Angela and felt like there was the beginning of a real friendship there. Tony and Pepper seemed genuinely excited to have me at Stark Industries. Markus Reid was obscenely excited to have me on his team. I’d met Bruce Banner, which, although awkward, fulfilled a high school dream of mine. I’d been able to look into the eyes of the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. The grainy photos and lousy media coverage since the Battle of New York did not do Thor justice. I took a sip of wine. And added that to the list of awesome from the day. Stark Industries stocked their employee quarters with good wine.

There was a knock at the door. I sighed and pulled myself out of the tub. It was probably Angela dropping off a new passcard before she left for the night or headed back to the party. I wrapped myself in a towel and found the one thing Stark Industries wasn’t doing really well for employees. The towel was just a touch too small. It just barely met at my hip and if I wanted my boobs covered, my butt cheeks hung out of the bottom. I checked the towel rack for a bigger one, but they were all the same.

The knock sounded at the door again. I sighed and hurried across the apartment. Angela would understand the huge amounts of skin I was showing. And would either know where I could find bigger towels or how to order some. I swung open the door without checking the peephole.

“I told you this could wait till the mor –“ It wasn’t Angela. I squeaked and jumped behind the door. To his credit, Thor didn’t respond at all. He didn’t leer, but he also didn’t blush and turn away. Almost like he didn’t even notice how little I had on. “I was not expecting you.”

“I have lingering concerns about your well-being, Ella Carmichael. You should not have been able to wield Mjolnir. I would be assured that you are not ill affected.” He stepped inside, and stopped, facing me. I pulled the door open a little wider, trying to cover myself.

“Uh, I appreciate your concern,” I started, trying to tug the towel to cover more of me. “But really, I’m fine.”

“You are quite pale.” He stepped closer to me. I backed up and eyed the distance between me, him and the bathroom. He was completely obstructing my path. I clenched my teeth, and bit my lip.

“You seem quite determined to check on me. And I appreciate it. But I am wearing a really skimpy towel right now. Could you maybe turn your back for a minute so I can go put some clothes on?” I felt ridiculous, trying to hide behind my door. But there was just way too much of me showing. His gaze dropped to my shoulders and his eyes widened just a bit.

“I apologize. I forget how overmodest Midgardians can be about nudity.” Again, he didn’t look away. I could feel the flush spreading across my skin. I wasn’t going to be pale for long if he kept staring at me. I cleared my throat and pointed to the couch when his eyes met mine. He smiled, and I think he rolled his eyes, but he acquiesced and walked over to the couch and dropped down on it. I flung the door shut and scampered across the room. I slipped in a puddle of water on my way into the bathroom, shrieked and landed on my ass, the towel trapped up me in a pile. To my eternal mortification, Thor was beside me in an instant. I tried to swat his hands away, but he scooped me from the floor and stood me back up, then bent down to hand me my towel. I was trying to cover my nudity as best as I could with my hands, and couldn’t figure out how to grab the towel without somehow sprouting another arm.

“Uh, just –“ I stammered. Thor’s eyes met mine and he raised an eyebrow. Without breaking eye contact, he tucked the towel under the fingers covering my breasts and walked back out of the bathroom.

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angelkurenai · 5 years

Text

Imagine Steve wanting to introduce you, his fiance, to his friends for a long time but hesitating because he hasn’t told them something about your past and how you met. You were once his student.

“And then I tell him that if he wants 'em, he can come and have 'em since he knows my place. Simple as that. In what way, shape or form is that considered insulting? Pepper didn't let me hear the end of it!” Tony was sitting in the white couch, as expected, waved his hands animatedly; effectively earning everyone's attention in the room. More than one carefully eyeing the cup of coffee in his one hand, one of whom being the owner of the office and therefore said white couch.

“Tony” was however the only warning he got this time because, luckily for him, said owner was busy between his files and a chaos going on through his mind and heart. Mind due to work, mostly, and heart due to more personal issues both for good and less good reasons.

“And you think she's without reason?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“I think she's without reason to be so overdramatic. She's fussing over everything these days and I don't even want to think about the way she'll react when I tell her about the party. With all the guests and the preparations, and f course drinks I'll be the one to choose because Stark Industries owes this much to friends and colleagues, but I'm-” he paused, as if being striked by an idea – how not surprising – in the middle of his rambling. This time it was to look, or more specifically, glare at his friend wo didn't notice something was up until silence had set into the room.

“Rogers!” he nearly exclaimed, not a second after they'd made eye-contact, not tat it lasted long because Steve couldn't help but glance at his phone – you hadn't texted him all day and he wasn't clingy but that wasn't how it was between you two – much as he wanted to not look away from Tony because who knows what would be said his way or thrown.

“You're Rogers? Why, Tony, you are the fiance after all?” Clint joked, toying with a pencil as if it were a drumstick “And you got married without telling us too? Oh wow.”

“Oh I'd be a handful for him, trust me. We already argue too much for that but-” he jumped up from his seat as he stalked his friend's desk, eyes narrowed at him “That was exactly what I had in mind: Steve's wonderful fiance who has oh-so-accidentally missed every single party I've housed for the past year and a half. Now, I don't know how suspicious that makes you, because it certainly makes me very suspicious for good-boy Rogers here and I think that before any explanations, which you'll definitely have to give, is an answer to this-” he drew in a long breath “Will we be meeting future Mrs Rogers this time, Captain, or have you come up with another excuse to avoid this?”

“Alright-” Steve cleared his throat, subtly but certainly very uncomfortably shifting in his place “First of all, I haven't been coming up with any excuses. Those were real reasons and I have by no means been trying to avoid it. Timing wasn't right and it's not like you always warn me in advance for me to plan ahead of time, as if anyone could keep up with you. Not that he is anywhere near less busy herself, Tony.” he shrugged, not making eye-contact, as he placed back all of the folders in their respective drawers “Maybe next time you should plan ahead of time, maybe next time you should just make a phone call since you know I'm not that good with messages or emails or anything else. Maybe, just maybe, you should even reconsider altogether, this and every other time, since we've all got work to do and it would be better if we didn't have that too. I'm just-”

“Incredible.” Tony breathed out, loud enough to cut his friend off “Simply incredible. Does-” he turned to Natasha, pointing at Steve “Does Fury do that? Do new teachers, like, train on how to be spies? History teacher by morning, secret Agent by night. And hey, Captain America can be far from just your nickname now, Steve!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air “No, I mean it-” tony continued when he noticed the look he got from his friend “That was simply so masterful, so skillful. Changing the subject so easily and not giving an answer to mine either, yet again, is incredible on a whole new level.”

“I didn't- I'm-” Steve blinked, losing any and every ability to form a proper sentence because truth be told he had expected to get away with that much once more and it seemed like every worry he'd had for the ast couple days – ever since Tony casually brought up that he needed to do another gathering after all this time – seemed to resurface and slowly make his worst nightmares seem all the more likely to happen in real life.

“There are no excuses, guys, I'm being honest. It simply has not come up yet, that's all. I assure you, she'd very much love to meet you too.” he said but for one reason or another he still couldn't meet anyone's eyes. Those weren't lies, he knew, but hiding the truth – the entire truth that he couldn't bear to be out with yet – wasn't by any means easier in any way.

“And that's why we're not blaming you for anything, nobody is. Right Tony? Right?” Bruce asked with a pointed look at the man who rolled his eyes and dramatically flopped back in his previous seat “We'd just like to, to put it in simple words, meet the newest member of the family. Or the member-to-be. You clearly love that woman and, based on what you say, she does too. We'd just... like to know her, welcome her properly no matter what.”

Steve couldn't say it out loud, not yet, but he would admit it to himself that those last three words gave him more hope than anything else. No matter what. He wished so bad they'd think the same, all of them, both now and especially after meeting you. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of you. He was the happiest man on Earth to be by your side, to have you say yes to a marriage with him was something out of his wildest dreams and yet it was happening, and he was certainly the most proud fiance already for everything you'd achieved. And nobody could even dare to question if he was in love with you because it was written all over his face, in the way he smiled and he brightened up when he spoke about you, that showed how much in love with you he was.

But none of it was enough to shake his worries away. Not the support he already had from is family, not the acceptance he always found in them and not even, sadly, how much of a catch you already were. All that paled in comparison to-

“Ah speak for yourself, Bruce. I'm gonna be showing up at your doorstep to drag the both of you out if I have to. So you-” Tony spoke up, and breaking Steve's trail of thoughts he pointed a finger at him “Prepare for everything. I'm going to find out more about her soon and yes, that means I expect to see you both at the party although you gave me no answer yet. You tell her or I'll send a personal invitation.”

“Well-” he cleared his throat, turning to face his friends “To be quiet honest, I have more pressing matters in my mind right now than your party Tony, I'm sorry for that.” only half a lie, because all of his problems lately had to do with said parties and meetings – which in reality stemmed from one issue: the way he'd introduce you to his friends and only family “And- Weren't we talking about a different topic here? I liked that one better than what my day and night activities are.”

“Oh I certainly am not interested to know about the nightly ones. Keeping your fiance satisfied is your business alone, Steve.” Natasha chuckled, speaking up at last “The beard speaks enough for itself.” that earned more than a few chuckles and a look from Steve “But even I have to side with Tony here on the fact that it's been really too long. When are we going to meet her at last?”

“I'm sorry, did you just agree with me? I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around that. What is the date? Barton, not that down, quick!”

“Tony” Bruce chastised his friend who raised his hands in surrender once more.

“I never said that I didn't want you to meet her.” Steve said with a sigh “Nor that you are not going to meet her. You will, at some point, and no Tony I don't mean the wedding. You'll meet her sooner.”

“I bet you could avoid that too by not inviting me to it.” Tony snorted and despite everything, it earned a chuckle from everyone.

“Don't give me any ideas. Well-” he sighed again softly, relaxing more “It's only... it's more complicated than it and though I wish I could explain it all, I feel like I don't even know where to start sometimes. It's hard. It's not bad or sad or anything like that, I'm just-” he paused, eyebrows furrowed deeply “It's a mess, in my head. All of it. Then again, I think it has always been, I won't lie. But I will sort it out, sooner than later, I promise that. And you'll get to meet her. Right now is just- it's not the time.”

His words earned him warm smiles and nods, just like a soft hum. A moment of silence, content and understanding amongst longtime friends, even though he had mostly avoided giving a direct answer or dealing with the issue at hand, followed until-

“But what if... she's in prison?” Tony's eyes were trained on the floor but his words effectively earned a few groans and ended the peace that had settled “Was in prison? No, no, think about it. Maybe she's a serial killer and Steve here doesn't want us to know? Maybe, he helped her escape? Maybe he helped in the crime too!”

“Oh gosh, Tony.” Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but laugh.

“Hey, you're not directly denying it. And you're avoiding eye-contact. Did I hit a nerve? I hit a nerve!” Tony pointed at him but Steve only shook his head “Now I really wanna meet her.”

“Says the man who called the actual president of the United States “sweetheart” because that's why Pepper didn't let you hear the end of it. You said “If you want 'em, you can come and have 'em since you know my place, sweetheart.” loud and clear.” Steve pointed out.

“Hey, they're my inventions, ok, I'm not about to hand them over. So you know what? I had every right to! What would you do capsicle?”

“Don't know what Steve would do, but I know what I will do now. And that's stop waiting.” Clint got up from his own seat, stretching “I have three kids and little time as you all know. When will Sam be done?”

“I think he only had five minutes left. I still don't know why they keep gym for the last class of the day.” Steve admitted with a sigh “But I do think that if he started heading for the door now, we'd find him there. Save him the trip to my office and then call Rhodey to tell the guys to get ready.”

“Sounds like a plan to me! Let's get started, this place is huge as it is, we'll probably meet him halfway.” Tony was the first one to copy his movement before they were all soon out of the office, no less in silence though at least for long “Speaking of which, you thought about that offer yet? It's no small thing being wanted by such a big university, can't compare to a high school. No matter how big or state-of-the-art it may be. Besides, hey, you could finally feel at home with all those 90-year-olds there.”

“While that would sound lovely, seeing as none of them would tease me about my lack of knowledge on technology like someone I know-” he gave his friend a side look, despite the smile on his lips “But still, no, I think there is something about SHIELD that I won't be able to find there. I have the Phds, I should be fine, but this school was helped build by your father, by my aunt for something great and that means a lot more. So for now, I think I'll stay.”

“Your choice. Can't say I blame you either.” Tony shrugged, hands in his pockets “I know we'd all miss you if you had to move to somewhere else, me included. Oh just thinking about it- Lots of manful tears.”

Steve's lips parted, ready to reply, only for his words to get caught in his lips. And it wasn't just the big lump in his throat that prevented him from breathing, it wasn't just his lungs burning with lack of oxygen or his dry mouth that made him feel sick. Sick with worry, he had gotten used over time. Sick with realization that this was it, having been caught unprepared at that, he didn't know if he could accept. If his body could ever comprehend it to begin with, because right now all it felt like was as if every organ was failing one by one and every cell in his body had frozen up; as he took the image of you at the other end of the hallway.

“(Y/n)?” he breathed out in horror, like he never had done before in his life. Possibly in his dreams, worst nightmares actually – hard as it would be to believe it when it came to you being in them. It wasn't you, nor because of you, but the rest of the situation. It was those exact gasps he heard that were responsible.

“That's (Y/n)?” it sounded as shocked as he had expected.

“You gotta be kidding me. Rogers' got that? I need to know what his secret is now!” another whisper.

“Ah, there he is!” Sam, who only now Steve realized you had been talking to, exclaimed.

For the second time in only a matter of second, Steve felt his body freeze in its place only for this time, only half a second later, to spring into action. When you turned to fully face him and he spotted the bandaged hand, the scratches on your forehead and the small drops of blood on your shirt, all of his worries turned into actual fear but for entirely different reasons. He actually exclaimed this time, eyes wide “(Y/n)!”

“I know, I know.” you sighed, approaching him with an apologetic smile “I didn't call and didn't give you a single warning about this. I'm really so sorry about this. If it was up to me I- I wouldn't be here but-”

“Wha- No, honey, no!” he breathed out hastily cupping your face in both his hands, trying to take in every little detail that was there and that was not ever since he last saw you in the morning “I'm not- I would never- This is blood, (Y/n), what happened?!”

“Oh oh! No, don't worry.” you placed your hands on his “It's- it's nothing major, just a scratch here and there, probably because I wasn't driving. Paul is fine too, though they took him to a hospital just to be sure. Honestly, the car's in a far worse condition than any of us, the accident wasn't that bad in itself but-”

“Accident?” he gasped “You were in a car crash? Sweetheart-” he paused for a moment, doing another check over with his eyes, lips parted as if he was ready to bombard you with questions about your state, advice on your well-being and so many things that he should do but you knew he was holding himself back only because you weren't alone. He could be as over protective as he wanted but truth was there didn't seem to be a real reason the more he looked at you. He took in a shaky breath and nodded his head slowly Are you sure? Maybe you should have gone with him too, get a couple of check ups just in case-”

“Steve, no, I swear I'm fine, darling. Believe me please.” you whispered, emphasizing on the words, as you fixed your fiance with a look that made him let out a small sigh before he nodded his head and kissed your forehead, moving to your cheek and then briefly your lips.

“Are you sure there is not something I can do though?” he dared whisper “Maybe you should have-”

“No. Steve, no.” you shook your head, giving him one final look as if to warn him that you weren't going to take any of it now “Now-” you let a soft breath, smiling up at him “I hope we established that I don't need any pampering, not at the moment at least. See, I wouldn't have come here if I hadn't forgotten my keys, though. My phone is definitely in pieces so I couldn't really let you know and I thought I'd stop by to get your keys before, well-” you stopped, looking over his shoulder before giving him a tight-lipped and certainly very apologetic smile “You know. But- yeah. Seems like my timing's just too shitty today.”

Your words did earn a laugh from your fiance, and he could see it in your eyes just how much you appreciated the sight of him relaxing, not that he had the chance to tell you so before Tony spoke up.

“Uh pretty sure doesn't like that kinda language!” he came closer, nowhere nearly subtly pushing his friend away to extend his hand towards you “I mean, he's all but an old man so it shouldn't be surprising. One would beg to wonder: Is dirty talking involved in it, or not? Tony Stark, by the way, and since you're here I think we'd finally get the question answered after all! So you are the fiance wow! (Y/n) (Y/l/n), what a pleasure to finally meet you! I've been coming up with all sorts of pictures of you in my head but let me tell you reality far exceeds every expectations! No wonder Rogers has been hiding you all along.”

“I-” you couldn't help but laugh a bit out of breath at his words, blinking in surprise at his rambling all in one breath “Well, let me tell you, you certainly live up to the image I had of you in my head, Mr Stark, and definitely all of Steve's descriptions.” you laughed, taking his hand “It's such a pleasure to finally meet you!”

“Please, Tony. Weird-” he glanced at Steve “I don't think I shared my performance in bed with Rogers.”

“Tony” Steve warned although you couldn't hold back your own laughter once more.

“What?” he asked in return “I'm just letting the woman know what's out there on the market in case she decides she needs to dump the capsicle and be a little more adventurous in life.” he added winking at you.

“Thank you, Tony, but-” you chuckled, noticed the way your fiance rolled his eyes, though there was too much playfulness in both of their demeanor to make it real or serious “I think after all these years, despite his quirks and habits that can drive me crazy, there's something called love. So I'll stick with him.”

“Oh he sure is a handful. But who am I to judge, some like them old.” he shrugged casually.

“But you're older than me!” Steve couldn't help but protest, almost sounding like a little child about to throw a tantrum. While it would have sounded funny, you couldn't help but notice the small crease in his brows that was always there when the topic came up. He was uncomfortable and even more self-consious about it, despite how much you'd always tried to reassure him that the age gap was never an issue for you.

“Alright, are you two quiet done or are we gonna have to witness you get at measuring it too?” Natasha spoke up there was a hint of exasperation in her voice that you couldn't help but understand if not completely relate to “Hi, name's Natasha and it's good to finally meet the woman that's got this guy with all those pounds of muscle wrapped around her little finger. It's quiet a show to watch, let me tell you. One way or another.” she grinned and you chuckled “Oh and here we have Bruce and Clint. Sam you've met.”

“Kind of a tough feat but I'm confident I'm doing well.” you smiled, nodding your head “It's great to meet you too Natasha, Bruce and Clint. You guys- I've heard so many stories with you, you have no idea how happy I am to finally be able to talk to you in person and get to know you. Though I hoped it was under different circumstances, I apologize for this.”

“Oh no, you don't have to apologize in the least bit. So long as you are alright, well, we're just glad to finally meet you too.” Bruce said with a gentle smile “We've been looking forward to knowing the woman that makes Steve so happy, even if it took some time. Which we can't understand because you're lovely.”

“Yeah, I uh- I know and I feel bad about that because-” you glanced at Steve who had put an arm around your waist, his breathing labor if not somewhat withheld, and you almost noticed his body had stiffened up as if he prepared himself for the worst “Well, I'm partially responsible. Work is taking up so much of my time and the few free hours I have, I try to spend with Steve and plan ahead of time. I've been told you've wanted us to both come to your parties-” you looked at Tony “And while the thought of beating Steve's ass at pool and sharing every detail, pardon, embarrassing detail of our first dates with you guys had been very tempting, I sadly had not been able to make it yet. Much as I'd love to get to know... the family.”

“Trust me, once you really get to know this family, you wish you hadn't. But you're just too sweet and innocent yet, so I won't ruin it for you.” Natasha chuckled “For now Steve's lucky. On every aspect.”

“I mean, hey, at least it is a better explanation than ex-serial-killer on the loose that Tony suggested. Not busy with prison either, I assume?” Clint shrugged as Tony exclaimed “Hey, it was a solid explanation.”

All you did was laugh “I'm not a serial killer, Tony, unless we consider my attempt at lasagna a murder. Come to think of it, the kitchen always ends up looking like a crime scene so who knows? But I haven't been in prison, either, not that I remember of at least. Right now being head of the museum is enough.”

“Smart, funny, sweet and incredibly beautiful- Rogers what is she even doing with you?” Tony teased.

His words earned a laugh from you and everyone else, managing to ease the tension. Or at least the tension that had set on Steve, because everybody else had been incredibly relaxed from the beginning including you, as much as it surprised him. Just some. He was not all that surprised to realize that they already adored you from the first five minutes of knowing you. He had had no doubt about it from the beginning. He was sure that charming them with a smile andmesmerizing them with your sweetness would be a piece of cake for you like everybody else you met, they loved you. Besides, he couldn't lie, that whatever the situation (car crash or not – even though he hated to think like that) were always radiant and as beautiful as ever and he'd always thank his luck for gracing him with a woman as stunning as you inside and outside. But taking pride in your wits and beauty that easily made his family adore you he couldn't really allow himself to fully accept it and relax. The small voice in the back of his head, even now as it saw that things were going so well – only one joke about the age difference, if any at all so far – he felt worry and fear. For what?

“And here I thought that the real kids would have left by now. Am I going to have to ask you all to enroll at some point or what? I can't seem to shake you guys off no matter wha-”

The voice was familiar somehow but your brain was slow at processing it, given everything that had and was happening, but the second your eyes fell on the man, well, there was no mistaking the face or the memories the came with it. Realization dawned on the man as well, obvious on his face as he trailed off.

“Mr Fury!” you breathed out with a smile and a laugh of disbelief at how little he had changed.

That.

“Well, I will be damned.” he grinned, as much as he ever would at least “Miss (Y/l/n), if this isn't a surprise!” you happily reached for his hand and shook it with a firm grip, a trait which he always appreciated in you “Came back to see if the building's still standing? As you can tell, much as our students have tried and would wish, both the walls and I are well standing. Again much to everyone's dismay. The arts class is right where you left it if you want to go check it, by the way.”

“Oh Mr Fury don't be like that. You're the best headmaster this place could get and, let's be honest, the only one who could handle the kind of kids in here without going insane.” you shrugged and he hummed in agreement nodding his head “Besides, you always had faith in everyone, whether you admitted it or not.”

He scoffed a laugh “Glad that at least in some cases I wasn't proven wrong.”

“Wait- you-” Tony blinked, raising a hand as to stop the conversation “I'm getting it all mixed up here. Fury, you know (Y/n)?”

You wouldn't even have realised if the sharp intake was real or not, much less coming from your fiance, if you weren't standing so close to him. You had naturally found your way back to his side and his hand had fallen on your waist, and when you felt a squeeze so fast and quiet intense, you understood that it was all him. And more than that, you saw the way he had stiffened up next to you, how he was holding his breath and his chest was puffed out. His eyes weren't nearly as wide but you could see an unspoken kind of fear in them that made your heart ache. This wasn't how you wanted it to go by any means, not on your first meeting of his family. Everything was going so well, you had gotten so exited and carried away that you had almost not realized it what it could mean to have Fury in front of you. Not until now. You didn't want it to be ruined for Steve but what could you do anymore? Stand and watch just like him, feeling more helpless was the only possible thing aside from hoping.

“Do I know her? I don't know Stark, there are some people I'd rather see once a month or even year because one can only take so much and forgetting them wouldn't sound so bad- If you know what I mean.” he gave him a look and for a moment you held your own breath. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe- “But, forgetting the brightest student to walk these halls ain't possible. And speaking of that, what brings you back after all this time (Y/n)?”

“Student?” it sounded like Natasha but you couldn't be sure over the sound of your own heart drumming.

“I uhm-” you cleared your throat, deciding to look as confident as possible for the sake of your fiance who as standing frozen in his place if not terrified “Yes, yes I was-” a soft laugh which you could proudly say sounded genuine “I was a student here almost six or seven years ago. Small world.” the came out as a whisper “And uh I was here because I had to see Mr Rog- Steve. I needed an uhm favor, of sorts. I'm sorry to disappoint but I won't be staying long, it's already been a long day for me and I need to head home.”

“Of coure.” he said but sadly for you that wasn't that, and feeling the tension in the room not only from Fury who studied the way you were so close but from the rest of Steve's friends who stood frozen in their place, faces blank but tha probably the worst kind of expression they could have on “But uh I didn't know you two kept in touch. What- what is Mr Rogers exactly to you?”

There is no mistaking the look the headmaster is giving you, the way his eyes narrow a bit, just like there is no mistaking the bit of knowing look in his eyes. Steve however, still very tense, chokes out in a lightly small and hoarse voice “Fiance.” he cleared his throat “(Y/n)'s my fiance.”

Fury's eyebrows rose but not with as much surprise as you'd have expected, not even that of having his current thought being verified. Maybe they weren't any current thought at all? Maybe the suspicion had not sparked this very moment to begin with.

“Well, then, what else can I say but congratulations!” he gave you a smile which you tried to return. Key word: tried. Steve was even more stiff next to you, unable to even try himself.

Before you get the chance to speak, it's another female voice this time that you also recognise “Fury, I have some stats I need you to see now befo- Oh, (Y/n)!” Maria smiled at you and you couldn't help but return it, until it almost froze in your lips because of her next words “What a pleasant surprise to see you here, you haven't changed at all! Not were it counts at least. Look at you, from high school girl to badass business woman. That's a glow up.”

She had always been friendly with you, the playfulness was to be expected, and her words were always what could make your day but at this very moment it felt like the exact opposite. You forced a smile nonetheless “Thank you Maria, it's great to see you too!”

“Right.” Fury cleared his throat, smirk evident on his lips “Well, as you can tell, work never ends for this old man. It's great to see you again (Y/n) and of course, congratulations once more.”

You were sure you murmured a soft “Thank you” but maybe it was only your lips moving as a reflex. You saw Maria give him a questioning look but what caught even more the attention was the grin he could barely hide as he turned to her and started speaking in a hushed tone.

Not that much registered anyway. The silence that followed, even for a couple seconds, felt deafening. Your heart seemed to be stuck in your throat as you simply waiting for something, anything.

“Honey.” it was Steve that spoke up, drawing your attention as he placed the keys in your palm “You're tired and you've been through enough for today. Go home and I promise I'll be there shortly afterwards. I'll say a quick hello and then I'll be with you, no more than an hour.”

“Steve” you protested in a low voice, looking up to meet his eyes. You weren't protesting at him cutting his day out with his friends short, although you definitely wanted to fight him about that because you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You were protesting at him taking it all upon himself, doing the explanation and what not. You felt like you had to be there to, that you needed to stand by his side and defend your relationship, even in front of his friends.

“No” he shook his head, clearly reading the meaning behind your words “Go. I'll be fine.” he whispered in your ear before kissing your temple “Go”

You tried to fight him a bit longer, silently at least, but his pursed lips and firm eyes told you that he's not having it. With a heavy sigh you nodded your head and he let go of your face. You put on a smile and turned to his friends “It was... great meeting you guys. I hope I'll see you again soon in... better circumstances. That we could get to talk more.”

“Anytime.” Natasha says with a warm smile that's almost friendly and accepting and you wish to believe it.

Sharing goodbyes with the rest of the group, you reluctantly walk away despite the urge to linger close if only to at least hear what they're going to say. Not... that you'd have to.

“Steve, you absolute little sneaky shit!” Tony exclaims, not even trying to keep quiet as he laughs “Alright, alright, now you seriously have to teach me how you do that! Your secret- Tell us your secret, there has to be one! My, I never thought I'd say this to freaking Cap of all people but I need your tips now!”

His words were followed by more laughter, easy and calm as Natasha spoke up again “Really, Steve, that's the reason whyyou didn't want us to meet her?” she raised an eyebrow and Steve tried to stutter out words but nothing coherent was said, not as he stared dumbfounded at his friends “You realize that there is nothing you should feel ashamed about, right? She was your student, alright, but as long as you both leg- Wait, you both were, right?”

Steve's eyes widened “No, Nat- It's not-” he blinked before shaking his head “When any of it happened she was very much legally an adult. Nothing could have ever happened if she was not. I would never-”

“Lies!” Tony gave him a look “That's absolute bullshit, Rogers. Nobody believes it. Come on, teacher- student relationship is already out there, start admitting the rest of it!”

“That's the truth, Tony.”Steve rolled his eyes “I'm not hiding anything else besides-”

“Not the one I chose to believe, no. Doesn't have as much spice as I'd like and we've already established that you have dirty secrets, I'm set on discovering it all if I have to. In fact-” he got his phone out “How much do you think a lie detector takes to build up from scratch? I could always order but-”

“Maybe... you were right to want to hide it after all.”

“Not all of us could have a mature reaction when some of us are not even close to... mental adolescence.”

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

Text

Title: Feelings To Write About

Author: @magioftheseas

For: @spaghetti4u

Pairings/Characters: KomaHina + mentioned KamuKoma

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: “Hinata or someone else trying to encourage Komaeda into doing something funny to spend the time (going to the beach, playing some game or anything really!)” + “Sharing a bed”

Author’s notes: It’s a pretty lowkey fic, and I ended up having them talk about the WoH because I have fluffy feelings when it comes to them. Cakeland is obviously based off Candyland which I have a lot of nostalgia for. I hope it’s cutesy enough for you!

The weather on Jabberwock wasn’t the perfect, eternal sunshine it had been in the simulation. There were storms and quite harsh ones at that. Hence why when him and Komaeda got caught up in one, he brought Komaeda with him to the hotel for studier shelter rather than just relying on one of their cottages. It was one of those weeks where the others were out trying to fix other parts of the world or meeting with the other sections of the Future Foundation, so the hotel was as vast as it was vacant. Hinata doesn’t try to think about how this scenario is like a million haunted movies and games—he especially doesn’t want to think about games—and instead, he focuses on drying Komaeda’s hair off with several towels.

Komaeda is docile when being fussed over, but he’s still shaking like a leaf. Hinata wraps him in some blankets for good measure, trying to keep a straight face when Komaeda sneezes.

“If we get enough blankets and pillows, this won’t be too bad a place to sleep for the night,” he says, tearing open a tissue packet pulled from Komaeda’s pocket for the other to blow his nose on. Hinata does flash him a smile, playing idly with the wet but still springy curls on his boyfriend’s head. “Do you need anything else to make yourself comfortable?”

“Mm.” A noncommittal hum and a meek shrug. Komaeda’s been in a low mood all day and the storm hadn’t seemed to help measures. Hinata tries to retain a reassuring smile as he tucks silvery strands behind the other’s ear. “It doesn’t really matter.”

I wouldn’t ask if that were true. Hinata bites his tongue. You know I would’ve just decided what to do without you. You probably wouldn’t even care in this state.

“There might be board games,” he found himself saying. “How about we play something to pass the time? You like Go, right?”

Komaeda shrugs again, as if he didn’t carry around go jars all throughout high school and even had them stored in his cottage at that exact moment. Hinata can only sigh and go along with Komaeda’s unstated hesitance.

“Maybe something new,” he said as we went to the closet where the board games were stored. “Variety is the spice of life.”

Komaeda sneezes behind him and makes no further comments. Fine. That’s fine. Hinata should just focus on deciding—or just grab the first thing that catches his eye and settle with that. Which is what he does. Either the dormant Kamukura Izuru’s kicking him in the mental balls right now or Komaeda’s momentary apathy is contagious.

He could figure out which if he thought about it. He elects not to think as to conserve energy. This is how he lives his life now.

Although the board game he grabbed is—not really to his or to Komaeda’s tastes. He still commits and takes it with him before setting it in front of Komaeda. Komaeda does look at the cover, his mouth twitching.

“Cakeland,” Hinata read aloud. “For ages 4 and up. If I didn’t know any better I’d say this is Usami’s doing.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it before,” Komaeda said, soft and low. “Utsugi-san was fond of it. She always forced me to be Donatsuo. She hated that character most.”

Even without a genius brain, Hinata can tell who that is. The donuts-themed boy with short choppy hair and absurdly large, caramel-colored eyes.

“This was Utsugi-san’s character of choice,” Komaeda recalled, tapping his finger against a happy girl in pink. “Ichigo-hime.”

“So,” Hinata said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Was this game any good?”

“It’s not very complicated because it’s for kids, ages four and up,” was Komaeda’s dull response.

“We’re not kids but we’re older than four, so we should be fine.”

With all that said, it looked like they were playing Cakeland. Hinata sets up the board—which is even kitschier in design than the box and he picks the character that looked the most normal-ish save for a strange hairstyle—identified by Komaeda as the Baron Maron. Komaeda does look between them and muffle a small snort, and Hinata doesn’t care to ask.

Komaeda picks Donatsuo, although he very lovingly places other pieces aside. Ichigo-hime and a few others who mysteriously had similar color schemes to those troubled kids he babysat all that time ago. As Servant. In Towa. After Enoshima Junko died but they were still all in despair.

That he can even have fond memories at all—

Hinata feels his throat burn with questions, but swallows back and just rolls the dice.

“We’re just both going to get six,” Komaeda said. “What to do?”

Hinata doesn’t say that he could probably get any roll he so wanted, so he just grumbles.

“I’ll go first because it’s in my name. Sound enough logic?”

Komaeda giggled warmly. It strikes a soft chord within him, and his heart may or may not do a flip in appreciation of such a sound.

“Whatever,” Hinata says, drawing a card. “What’s important are these, anyway. Wow, I drew you.” He does flash the card, showcasing Donatsuo with a dorky grin and dual peace signs. “Guess that means I go to your character space. It’s the first one on the map though so it’s not that far ahead.”

“It’s good luck to get that at the beginning of the game but bad luck to get that at the end,” Komaeda said, drawing his own card. He just gets a plain color so he only moves ahead four spaces. “Since your luck is better than mine, I wonder if this is even a fair game…”

“Your luck is still formidable,” Hinata pointed out as he drew. It was green. That was five spaces. “I’d say it breaks to about even.”

“Oh, no,” Komaeda breathed, shaking his head. “No, that’s wrong. Comparing my luck to yours is like comparing a gnat to a swan because both can fly.”

“It’s not…” Hinata sputtered a bit, unsure of what the hell to make of that. “What does that even mean? Komaeda, your—your luck’s on a whole other level. You should know that more than anyone.”

Komaeda just draws. He still hasn’t selected a special card. Hinata ends up drawing the next one, a strange angelic figure named Enjunji, who he just didn’t get good vibes from.

“Kemuri-kun’s favorite,” Komaeda said quietly and Hinata moved further ahead. It was the closest character space in reality, so it still wasn’t impressive.

I have a feeling I know how this is gonna go.

Still, they kept playing.

“You’re still like that, huh,” Hinata mused quietly. “You’re still—really harsh on yourself. That hasn’t changed, but I suppose other things have.”

“Other things?” Komaeda echoed before laughing. “Like what, per say?”

“You’re not as reckless as you used to be,” was the immediate answer. Another draw. Another several steps ahead. Komaeda’s piece was struggling to keep up. “You’re much calmer. You don’t talk about hope and talent all the time.”

“Because,” Komaeda said. “Hope’s Peak—the encapsulation of all of that—was in reality a breeding ground for despair. It was poisoned to the core and I was just too blind to notice.”

We all were, myself especially, Hinata thought, reaching up to touch his temple. He knew Komaeda noticed, but his eyes screwed shut so that he wouldn’t have to see whatever warp Komaeda’s face. I wasn’t just blind, I was so, so fucking stupid.

“You agreed to be with me,” he forced out so that he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about his own failures. “Your old self never would’ve let yourself have any real sense of happiness. At least not something you’d have to maintain, like a relationship.”

Komaeda chuckled. “You mean you would’ve let me reject you?”

“You did reject me,” Hinata reminded him dryly. “Several times. And then you demanded Tsumiki make sure I didn’t have brain damage.”

“Oh, did I?” Komaeda tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I still find your attachment to me nonsensical, especially when I more or less stated I wanted nothing to do with you in the past. But—I suppose you knew that was a lie, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re a liar.” Hinata cracked a smile. “At least when it comes to your feelings. You’re sincere most of the time.”

“The proper word is stupid,” Komaeda said, moving his piece a single space with a nudge from a metallic finger. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. Don’t say that. You shouldn’t even think it.”

Hinata’s tone was as serious as it was grim. Komaeda’s self-effacing expression twitched, but he simply ducked his head reservedly.

“It’s in moments like this where you most resemble Kamukura-kun,” he murmured, fringe falling before his eyes and obscuring his gaze. “He’d speak up like this in the past despite being so quiet most of the time.”

Hinata felt a stirring in the back of his head. He held his breath until it went away and all that was left was the pounding in his ears. Even with that, he still knew.

“He cared about you.”

Kamukura doesn’t let him see into those memories often, although he still sometimes imagined it—maybe even dreamed it. Komaeda Nagito, eyes murky with despair and shoulders trembling under the weight of it, smiling up at him.

“He didn’t think to acknowledge it, much less accept it,” he went on, rubbing his digits into his scalp and catching skin flakes and rain droplets under his nails. “I was the same way in the simulation.”

“You both had strong reasoning to be that way, my inherent worthlessness none withstanding.” Komaeda laughed. “I wasn’t exactly in my best frame of mind at either time, although that’s not saying much.”

“Nor was I,” Hinata retorted. “I even denied part of my identity. I was—pathetic. You were right about that.”

Komaeda is quiet, lips twisting. His shoulders shake briefly under a certain kind of weight. Hinata draws his next card, and it’s another character, a studious blue one named Chouchoux.

“You were an ass about it,” he said. “Like, an absolute ass. But, hey, definitely not the worst thing about you at the time. By the way, this one was used for Shingetsu Nagisa, wasn’t it?”

Komaeda nodded, fiddling with his mechanical hand and making a loud series of whirly noises. He drew his card as well. Another plain one, with his piece moving only two spaces ahead.

Hinata draws and it’s a card of a boy in stripes and red, looking fierce and fiery. Torayaki—obviously the favored character of one Daimon Masaru.

“Do you miss them?” he found himself asking. “If so, we can contact Towa City and ask Naegi’s sister how they’re doing. They might even be curious about you.”

“I doubt it,” Komaeda laughed mirthlessly. “And it’s fine. As long as they’re doing well.”

“I don’t think they hated you,” Hinata said. “You took care of them after all.”

“I was a wretched despair.” Komaeda shook his head. “And they were perfectly self-sufficient. I doubt they even think of me anymore—and rightfully so. I only approached them in the first place out of curiosity, not because I saw children who needed protection and guidance.”

“They would’ve killed you if you had,” Hinata can’t help but remind him. “Probably would’ve found that sentiment insulting with all that they’ve been through. They were children and angry ones at that. I don’t blame them, of course…” He trails off. “I don’t think it’d be bad to send a letter now that things have calmed down a little.”

Not to mention—you lit up when talking about them. You’ve been listless lately, and I know. I get it. There’s no particular reason for it, that’s just how depression works sometimes. I still missed your smile, Nagito.

“Just a letter shouldn’t be too bad,” he insisted. “You’ve been practicing your calligraphy with that hand after all.”

The hand in question flexes. No joints pop, it’s just more whirls. Komaeda does smile, but it’s one that is curled up on his face, like a body trying to keep itself warm in the cold.

Hinata draws Ichigo-hime next. At this rate, Komaeda has no chance of winning. But the funny thing about a game like this was that luck of the draw could flip things so easily. There was one last character space, furthest ahead and closest to the end.

“Maybe,” Komaeda says and—as expected, he draws the card.

It’s a young woman dressed in green named Monaka-jou-sama.

Komaeda wins the games just a few turns later.

Outside, it was still storming.

“It’s pretty late, so let’s get ready for bed, Nagito.”

“Okay.”

Hinata goes to find futons while Komaeda puts away the board game. Hinata sets up a couple of makeshift beds and he presses them together. He does pause afterward, wondering if this was right. He heard Komaeda shuffling about, the whirling of his arm, and then, he felt Komaeda sliding the board game back onto the shelf. Thunder rumbles, the trees are being rustled by the wind, and Komaeda lets out a soft whew.

Hinata is still up until the moment he hears the padding of Komaeda’s soft footsteps, and he only truly relaxes when Komaeda’s slim arms encircle his waist, with Komaeda pressing his face into Hinata’s back. He pets Komaeda’s hair with a lop-sided smile, and Komaeda’s cheeks puff.

“You don’t just remember the simulation, right,” he murmured. “You have Kamukura-kun’s memories, too.”

“Technically,” Hinata replied. “Kamukura Izuru has to share them with me first. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

Komaeda huffed.

“It’s so complicated, keeping you two separate yet also together. Sometimes I wonder who I’m with.”

I wonder that, too. But what matters is…

“Regardless of who I am, I still love you.” He pats Komaeda’s head. “That much is and always will be clear.”

“Regardless of who you are, I love you, too,” is mumbled into his back.

It’s so soft a sound that Hinata wouldn’t have even heard him if not for the vibrations, but that’s fine. It’s not like he’s ignorant to Komaeda’s feelings. Not anymore.

He ushers Komaeda under the blankets, Komaeda still clinging to his wrist all the while. Chuckling softly, Hinata slips in after him and squeezes Komaeda’s hand. He rubs his thumb against the other’s pulse, only pausing because Komaeda grips him with the mechanical hand. His grip only tightens when Hinata kisses his forehead and then down his face.

“When the storm passes,” Hinata says, nuzzling along Komaeda’s jawline and pressing another kiss to his cheek where ensuing the blush tinted it pink. “We should send out letters.”

Komaeda ducks his head, but he still accepts the affection that he’s showered with.

“We should also walk along the beach, maybe,” Hinata teases. “See what gets washed up. It might be treasure.”

“You’re a treasure,” Komaeda retorted, flustered. Shoving Hinata’s hands off and his face away, he buried his face into Hinata’s chest, hiding it from further embarrassment. “You’re the worst thing to have ever washed up on that beach.”

Hinata hummed, stroking his hair.

I didn’t technically wash up, but…

“And yet you stayed behind for me.” Hinata hides his smile in those wild white curls. “You’re still here right now.”

Komaeda grumbled but gave no further response. That was fine. Perfectly fine.

Stay with me, alright? Please keep staying with me. He decided against asking that for now for now. Opting instead for, “Sweet dreams, Nagito. I love you.”

#komahina #kamukoma #fanfiction #komahina secret exchange

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