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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 19 days

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Wingwoman (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: You take your good friend/coworker, Spencer, out to the bar to find him a girl to hook up with. Things do not go as planned.

Word Count: 5107

Warnings: Romantic/sexual tension! Mentions of drinking / sex

A/N: Hi! I haven't written posted fanfic in like, 8 years, please be nice xD I would love to know your thoughts - if you have any requests or anything, I'm happy to oblige. ALSO -- I have only seen up to Season 7 of Criminal Minds because I'm a fckn loser. Anywayyyyy enjoy! Not my gif btw, all credit to the owner :)

———————————

It was kind of your fault, now that you were thinking back on it.

Actually, it was definitely your fault, now that you were thinking back on it.

It had been your suggestion to go out. It had been your idea to act as Spencer’s wingwoman, some last-ditch effort to try to get him out of your mind. He was your coworker, for Christ’s sake. And your best friend. And you’d thought about him desperately for eight of the nine months that you’d known him.

Emily, Derek, and Penelope had all agreed to tag along, but as the work day went on, each of your coworkers had found some kind of excuse to opt-out. Derek’s niece wanted to Facetime. Penelope forgot Kevin’s birthday was next week and needed to go shopping for a present. Emily had a headache.

Finding Spencer a romantic prospect on your own was certainly not the plan, but, stupidly, thoughtlessly, you’d decided to go along with it. You could do this. Just one night in a bar, chatting up women for the man you’d slowly been falling for the past eight months. As good of an idea as any, right?

You and Spencer took an Uber to the bar the group frequented. Ski-ball and pool in one corner, a vintage jukebox and small space set aside as a makeshift dance floor in the other. But the best part - half-off drinks for federal agents. You’d never been one to abuse the badge before, but…

Three Jack-and-Diet-Cokes later, your moral code had a bit of a crack in it.

Spencer stood next to you - towered over you, actually, because that man was a fucking beanpole - and you felt his eyes on you as you scanned the crowd. “What about her?” you suggested, jerking your chin to the woman at a high-top table against the wall. She had her nose stuck in her phone and an untouched martini on the table in front of her.

“She’s clearly waiting for someone,” Spencer pointed out, and you realized he was right just as the woman looked up from her phone and towards the door for the third time in the past minute. “I also don’t understand why you’re so dead set on finding someone to hog me up with.”

You snorted into your drink. “Hog you up with?” you repeated, turning in your barstool so you faced him. Your knees brushed his thighs.

“Yeah, is that not…” realization dawned on Spencer and he grimaced. “That’s not the phrase, is it?”

“Hook,” you corrected, but not impatiently. You made a little hook with your index finger, like a pirate. A little giggle escaped you. “And I’m not dead set on it,” you argued. “I just didn’t want to be the only one leaving the bar with someone.”

Your eyes flickered up to Spencer’s to gauge his reaction. He seemed surprised by this implication that you planned to leave with someone - someone who was not him.

“Yeah? Who are you leaving with, matey?” Spencer countered, arching a brow and pointedly looking at your index finger, still in its hooked position. You dropped your hand.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” you blushed furiously, desperately trying to drive the conversation back to his romantic conquests. Your thought process was that if you actually saw Spencer with someone else in any sort of romantic capacity - dancing, flirting, kissing - you’d finally hurt yourself enough with the sight for those stupid feelings for him to dissipate. “We’re looking for you.”

Spencer merely hmm-ed in response, an indecisive non-answer, and you noticed he shook his head. Like he was annoyed, but trying not to show it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and polished off your drink before returning to examining the patrons in the bar. You nudged Spencer’s elbow with your own and your gaze landed on the group of three women giggling around one of the tables. “Any of them? The blonde is cute,” you pointed out.

“Not really into blondes,” Spencer muttered, and you glanced back at him. You could have sworn his eyes were locked on your brunette hair. You opened your mouth to say something, but Spencer cut you off. “But, sure, if watching me strike out will amuse you, Y/N.” Before you could protest, Spencer set his glass down on the bar and started towards the trio of women at the table.

You leaned down to sniff his glass, curious as to what he’d been drinking. Clear liquid. No smell. Was he… totally sober?

You watched with narrowed, studious eyes as Spencer approached the women. You could only see the back of his head, but the three women’s faces were perfectly visible. They smiled, friendly, unassuming, and then something came out of Spencer’s mouth that changed their expressions. The blonde in the middle furrowed her brows, and the two women on either side cocked their heads slightly. Spencer’s hand tapped the table and he earned awkward smiles as a goodbye was bid, and when he turned around to head back towards the bar, he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, like what are you gonna do?

“What happened?” you asked as he returned to you.

“I blew it,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. Too accepting of his defeat. Further supporting your theory that he’d gone over there and purposefully botched it.

“Right,” you flagged down the bartender to order another drink.

“You’re getting another one?” Spencer asked.

You whirled your face to meet his and didn’t see judgment, but rather, concern. “Why does it matter?” you asked, no, dared.

Spencer shook his head, defeatedly. “It doesn’t,” he grumbled.

“What about that girl you were talking to earlier by the jukebox?” you asked, nudging his shin with your foot. “The grabby one. She seemed really into you.”

Spencer visibly gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested.”

“Are you interested in anyone in this bar tonight?” You asked. The words came too quickly for you to stop them. They were too real. Especially as Spencer’s frown hardened just slightly and you watched him look away from you.

You took in a sharp inhale, the realization hitting you, the possibility that Spencer might actually feel the same way about you. And that you’d dragged him out here tonight to try and set him up with someone else. You were selfish and thoughtless and stupid.

You hopped off the barstool, your feet wavering beneath you. “I’d better go home,” you said suddenly, grabbing your bag. You had to leave. You had to go home before you said something stupid, something irreversible.

You stalked out of the bar and onto the brisk, late-autumn sidewalk. You’d forgotten your coat at the office and insisted you’d be fine. The chill smacked you in the face and you tucked your bag beneath your shoulder so you could cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for any semblance of warmth.

Thirty seconds hadn’t even passed before the door creaked and Spencer appeared at your side, throwing his coat wordlessly over your shoulders. “What did I do?” he asked. You looked up at him and saw his eyes - hurt, frustrated, confused.

Your lips parted and there was a small shake of your head. “No,” you breathed. He furrowed his brows and you explained further. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why the hell have you been so weird around me lately?” Spencer asked, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. Like a temperamental first-grader.

“Weird how?” You asked, trying to pretend like you had no idea what he was talking about. Like your stomach didn’t flip every morning when you saw him.

“Like you’re… like you’re mad at me. Like you don’t want to be around me,” Spencer looked at the street ahead of the both of you rather than at you. “You always find an excuse to leave the room when it’s just the two of us. You pull Derek or Emily or Penelope into the conversation so you don’t have to interact with just me. You’re out here trying to find me someone to hook up with?” he phrased the last sentence as a question, shaking his head. Your heart lurched. He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s either you’re trying to shrug me off as a friend entirely, or -”

He stopped himself. His eyes were fixed on the streetlamp a few feet in front of you. They widened and you felt your heart pound as he slowly met your gaze. The realization hit him, the second half of his sentence lingering, heavy and palpable between the two of you.

“Or,” you repeated, not phrasing it as a question. Your voice was soft as you said it, your tone anything but a question.

“Or?” Spencer asked, and you could see his chest start to rise and fall more slowly.

“Or,” you confirmed, taking in a sharp breath.

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, his gaze piercing and soft, studious and lazy, hungry and satiated all at once. “Oh.”

Oh.

“How long?” he asked, turning his feet towards you.

Your face went red and you lifted your chin, refusing to make yourself feel ashamed of it anymore. There wasn’t any point, not when he knew now. “Since March,” you admitted. Your voice was squeaky.

“March?” Spencer repeated, incredulous. It was early October now.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and bunching it up by the middle. You handed it to him. “You don’t have to say anything,” you said. Your body felt like it was on fire. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.”

You thought maybe you were hallucinating for a second. Your mouth fell open and despite your three drinks, you remembered clearly that Spencer had been drinking water. This was not some drunken confession, not for either of you, because the second he’d asked you why you had been so weird lately, you had instantly sobered up. “Oh,” was all you managed to choke out.

Oh.

“Yeah, oh,” Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smile. That playful, friendly, teasing little smile you’d learned to love on him. He stepped towards you.

You let out this little half-garbled laugh. Spencer reached for your hand, and you let him. Your fingers spread, allowing his in the spaces between. You looked up at Spencer and little fires shot up your hand. How could merely holding hands feel so monumental?

“What do we… what do we do now?” You asked, your mind in a haze, like a computer awaiting command.

Spencer let his jacket fall to the concrete and used his other hand to slowly, almost hesitantly, cup your cheek. He looked down at you and your entire face reddened. “Well,” his voice was soft, crackling, like a fireplace, and he met your gaze with searching eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now, if that would be okay,” he said finally. Your lips turned up into an idiotic smile.

“I think that would be okay,” you whispered.

His hands were so soft, you realized. His grip on your hand loosened and he was now cupping your face on both sides. And every nerve in your cheeks was firing off signals - Spencer is touching my face, Spencer is touching my face. Like it was some forbidden thing. But then, as if in slow motion, he ducked his head down and his lips touched yours. Gently, at first, tentative and wobbly like a foal taking its first steps. Your hands rested on his torso - taut beneath that stupid little sweater vest.

He pulled back after just a moment. It was really only five or six seconds at the most, but you were red-faced and breathless by the time your eyes fluttered open, into his. Spencer’s smile was now a full-blown grin, and your expression mirrored his. “Yeah?” He asked, the word carrying more meaning. You’re into this, right?

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer dropped his hands from your face, but your hands remained on his torso, not wanting to step away just yet. The syllable meant more coming from you, too. I’m really, very much, super into this. Please, for the love of god, kiss me again.

Spencer arched a brow ever so slightly, and you nodded your head.

Just like a dance, Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, and at the same time, you slid yours around his neck. He backed you up, completely disregarding his jacket on the sidewalk, until you were flush against the brick wall belonging to the bar. The brisk October breeze ruffled through his hair and yours, yet, suddenly, neither of you were terribly concerned about the weather.

He kissed you again, and this time it wasn’t as timid. Slowly, at first, his lips pressed against yours, and then his tongue darted out. It teased your lips in silent invitation, and you opened them to grant him access. His hands were everywhere, your hips, your hair, your face. You had moved your own down to his torso again. He coaxed the tiniest little mewl out of your throat, a completely uncontrollable and inevitable noise.

Spencer’s low, gravelly groan reverberated through your mouth. Your hands gripped the bottom half of his shirt, balling it up in tight, white-knuckled fists. An unmistakable hardness brushed against your thigh. You were perfectly content to stay right there, pinned against the exterior wall of a D.C. bar, but the sound of a car honking its horn peeled Spencer off of you.

His face was flushed and you released his shirt from your grasp. He let out a small grunt, stepping away from you to grab his jacket off the ground, wrinkling it haphazardly in his hand, holding it strategically over his middle.

Oh, he liked you a lot.

“You okay, Spence?” You asked all-knowingly, cocking your head to the side, leaning against the wall, lifting a foot to plant against it.

Spencer shot a set of narrowed eyes at you, as if noting your smirk and storing it for later. “Yeah, I’m great,” he said, obviously struggling a little bit. His eyes quickly left yours and looked everywhere but at you.

You didn’t want to embarrass him too much. So you just crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the sidewalk. But the smirk on your face wasn’t going away quite so easily. You considered briefly trying to talk to him about baseball or something to try and help him out, but you decided pointing it out would just humiliate him. Plus, it was a nice little ego boost, knowing you could get him like that with just a simple touch.

He took a second, but he finally cleared his throat and met your gaze. You sucked your front teeth with your tongue and then bit your lip. “Want me to call an Uber?” You asked.

Spencer just nodded, and you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping over to join him, digging your phone out of your pocket to order the car. “You okay?” You asked him again after submitting the request on your phone. Spencer’s face was still flushed, but he just nodded and reached for your hand. “Careful,” you warned, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Don’t want you having an-“

“Shut up,” Spencer cut you off, and you snickered.

——————————————————

You had never been in Spencer’s apartment before. It was unmistakably his, with stacks upon stacks of books in lieu of furniture.

There was a sofa in his living room, along with a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a television on a stand. The remaining space, besides a few spots here and there and a clear path with which to maneuver the room, was filled with books.

You had never seen so many books in someone’s possession before. And sure, you were an avid reader yourself. But nothing like this. Your heart fluttered at the sight, not only because books simply just made you happy, but because it was an incredibly endearing detail about Spencer. Your Spencer.

He shut and locked the door after you stepped inside, looking around with a childlike, awestruck grin. The TV had a thin layer of dust over the screen - he clearly didn’t use it often. And as you trailed a finger along the top of the nearest stack of books, you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move.

You and Spencer had both been quiet in the Uber ride here. He had simply held your hand, swiping his thumb across the back of your palm every few seconds. You would occasionally meet his gaze, but then quickly, bashfully, look away, like the two of you were teenagers.

It was so strange to think of what he had said to you - I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met. How had you not figured it out before now?

You supposed you had been hiding your true feelings as well, so he was allowed to, too.

There wasn’t any point in wishing to change the past, you reminded yourself. All you should be focusing on is right now.

And right now, the street lamps peeked in through Spencer’s living room window, glinting off of his endless brown eyes and making them look like he had the moon in his irises.

“So,” you said softly, not nearly as wicked as you had been when you were teasing him on the street by the bar. “This is where you live.”

“Uh-huh,” Spencer bobbed his head, that awkward, straight-line smile crossing his face.

“Lot of books,” you pointed out.

“Yep.”

You arched a brow, a teasing smile crossing your face once again. “What’s with the monosyllabic conversation?”

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. “It’s just… really difficult to just stand here and not touch you,” he admitted, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

You grinned. “You can touch me,” your voice dropped an octave, without you even really thinking about it.

Spencer licked a canine with the tip of his tongue. God, that tongue. You remembered how he’d teased you less than an hour ago outside of the bar. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can’t really play it cool, right now, Spencer. Not when I just gave you a-“

“Please stop talking,” Spencer laughed, crossing the room and cupping your cheeks in his hands all in the same movement. You snickered and he kissed you and anything you might have been wanting to make fun of him for was forgotten about.

You pressed your hands against his chest - holy pectorals, Batman - and craned your neck up so you could reach him. Spencer slid his own hands down your arms and to your hips, and you looped your arms around his neck. One palm flattened against the back of his head, holding him in place, fingers curling around pieces of his soft hair.

Your heart was hammering away, and there was this aching, hot feeling that was pooling in your core and you all of a sudden felt hungry. Starving for Spencer, for every piece of him, for fully and finally crossing that line from friend to lover. An insatiable hunger for nearly every moment since you’d known him.

Finally you broke away from him, simply because oxygen was a necessity, and he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed and your fingers ground into his scalp. “Look at me,” he requested, his voice low.

Your eyes opened obediently and one of Spencer Reid’s hands curled under your chin. His face moved away from yours but his gaze was locked on yours, a pinpoint, a Northern Star.

And when Spencer spoke again, your knees buckled.

“I want you.”

Your mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and you nodded. “I want you, too,” you whispered.

“Are you still…?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You’d had three drinks earlier that evening, after all, but you’d polished the last one off nearly an hour ago. Maybe not fully sober, but sober enough to know what you wanted.

“I’m fine,” you assured him.

Spencer inclined his head to the side. “You’re sure? Can you pass a sobriety test?”

You narrowed your eyes at him before you realized he was being sarcastic. You stepped back from him, shrugging off his hands, and extended your arms, touching your nose with your left hand, then your right. Spencer just laughed, and reached out for you, tugging you back to him. “Okay,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck. You let him. “You’re fine, then?”

“I’m fine,” you agreed, shrugging him out of his sweater vest, and then reaching for the buttons on his shirt underneath.

Spencer kissed your neck as you fumbled with the buttons - how were buttons suddenly impossible to undo? Your head craned back just slightly on instinct, wanting - needing - to allow Spencer more access. Your dexterity had become abysmal at this point, and Spencer’s lips were kissing your neck, down your throat, teasing at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you managed to groan out, a wave of annoyance present in your tone.

“What?” he asked, pulling back, concern filling his face.

You realized you had actually worried him. “Oh, no, no,” you waved it away, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m just really frustrated, because… because your shirt,” you stammered, and Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smirk.

“My shirt,” he stated.

“That one, right here,” You laughed softly, curling your fingers around the buttons. You managed to wiggle one free, then another. Spencer leaned forward to continue kissing your neck, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Hang on,” you murmured, working through another button, and one more. “I’m concentrating.”

“You’re sticking your tongue out,” Spencer snickered. Your eyes met his and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m concentrating!” Your voice rose slightly in self-defense. Spencer’s hands went to your hips.

“It’s adorable,” he told you. “You make the same face at work. When you’re in the middle of filling out a form or trying to open a new bottle of coffee creamer without spilling it,” Spencer rubbed circles in your hips and your fingers stopped working again.

“You noticed that kind of stuff?” You asked softly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer just nodded. “All the time.”

I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.

You inhaled sharply, finally undoing the last button.The skin beneath the shirt was pale, smooth, and perfect. And when he slid his arms through the sleeves and the shirt fell to the ground, you bit your lip, unable to help it.

“Y/N?”

You met Spencer’s gaze and let out this awkward little laugh. Embarrassing, really, if you hadn’t been in the company of your best friend. “You okay?” he asked, and you felt a little giddy as you nodded, moving your hands to his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him again.

You didn’t know which direction the bedroom was in, so you just took a guess, pushing him back towards one of the doors. He kept his hands on your hips and his lips pressed against yours as he guided you, walking backwards, to the right door. You entered the bedroom and could not possibly be bothered to look around right now, not when Spencer was guiding you in a circle by merely touching your hips, not when the back of your knees hit what was unmistakably a mattress, not when you fell back against it.

Your eyes were shut, unwilling to take in your surroundings as Spencer guided you onto your back. You toed off your shoes before lifting your legs, and Spencer hovered over you. Your lips were locked with his the entire time. And when you finally opened your eyes and you saw only Spencer, you grinned like a fool.

Spencer’s fingers were like taking a shower. They were all over you - your hips, first, then your stomach, and you had to resist the urge to giggle because they tickled as he teased the bottom hem of your shirt up. You sat up slightly to get the blouse over your head and you watched him discard it onto the floor. And then his hands were over your chest, thumbs teasing under the wire of your bra, outlining the shapes of your breasts.

Your breathing had gone heavy and staccato by this point, your body sinking into the mattress, shipwrecked as Spencer touched you. His eyes wandered over your and that little smile on his face was enough for you to know that he was immensely enjoying himself.

“Can I…?” Spencer’s hands wandered down and gripped your pants as he looked into your eyes, a brow arched.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your blush appeared over your cheeks at the same time as his. “Yeah,” you whispered, and Spencer helped you wiggle out of your pants - black slacks, since you had gone straight from work to the bar. They were soon tossed to the floor, and you were only in your underwear and your bra. And Spencer’s brown eyes did not make you feel objectified or embarrassed, but safe.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he told you, seriously, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“You-”

“I’m not done,” Spencer cut you off, lifting a hand to run his thumb down your chin. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re so kind, and smart, and funny. And I’d really like to show you how much I care about you,” he looked into your eyes as a sort of request.

“I’m not on birth control,” You breathed out in response, feeling your cheeks redden for even bringing it up. Way to damper the mood. Still, you wanted to be responsible. “Do you have a c-”

Spencer’s soft smile turned into a wicked grin and he shook his head. “We’re not going to need one,” he promised, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, you understood.

________________________________________

Spencer had thoroughly worshiped you, until you quaked and cried out with absolutely no thought to how thin his apartment walls might be. Usually, you didn’t allow yourself to be the center of attention for too long, but Spencer had insisted, and, well, you couldn’t very well deny him what he wanted, right?

Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your hair matted to the back of your neck, Spencer finally lay down beside you. Your breathing was just starting to come back to you as you turned on your side to face him. Spencer’s body mirrored yours, the tips of his fingers - those fingers - trailing up the side of your arm. “That was…” his voice was soft, gravelly, and he looked at you like you had anything to do with it. It was literally all him. “Incredible.”

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, unable to really focus on anything besides the curve of Spencer’s lips, the way the apples of his cheeks appeared when he smiled like this. Spencer kissed your lips, unlike any way he had before. All the other kisses tonight had been hungry and excited, exploratory and new. This one was lazy and slow and you let his tongue dance across yours, and when he finally pulled away, your nose scrunched up in delight.

Your eyes traveled from his lips, down his neck, his collarbone, then back up, taking him in. The glow of his skin, the tired yet exhilarated look in his eyes. So different now than at the beginning of the night, when he’d looked at you with that slightly annoyed expression as you had tried to set him up with other women. You recalled how he had gone off to that group of three women right before you’d abandoned the bar, how he had struck out on purpose just to satiate your nagging. “What’d you say to those women tonight?” You asked him curiously, furrowing your brows at him.

Spencer, in turn, arched his brows at you. “Why?”

“Because I’m curious,” you said as his fingers continued to trail, feather-light, up and down your arm. You traced your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin. “You were obviously blowing it on purpose.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I actually do have some game, despite what Morgan might say,” he said, his tone defensive.

You snickered. “Sure you do, Spence. Took you, what, eight months, to get me in your bed?”

Spencer shot a playful glare at you and pinched the skin on your arm. You squeaked in response and he just laughed. “I just asked them how they were doing tonight,” he said finally, and you knew just from the look on his face that he was lying.

“You did not,” you pushed back. “Come on, Reid, spill it.”

“Ok, fine,” Spencer heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard. You sat up, too, looking at him with concern. Why was he so embarrassed? “I told them… Jesus.” Spencer rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb and his forefinger. “I told them I was here with a coworker that I had a massive crush on, and that you were trying to set me up with someone else,” he began.

You started to smile.

Spencer continued. “I told them that I had absolutely no interest in going home with anyone tonight, and that I had been purposefully striking out all night long because I couldn’t stand the thought of even trying to look at someone the way I look at you.”

Your smile grew and you moved to sit on your knees, inching closer to Spencer and throwing one leg over him, effectively straddling him against the mattress. “So I asked them,” Spencer continued, his lips turning slowly from an exasperated frown to a small smile. “I asked them if they could just look at me like I had said something stupid, and then I would leave them alone.”

“Did they say anything to that?” You asked as Spencer’s hands found your hips, contouring to match the curves into the small of your back.

Spencer’s voice got slightly lower, more serious, when he said, “The girl in the middle did. She said ‘that girl definitely has feelings for you, too’. And then they did what I asked, and I walked back over to you.”

“She did not say that,” you rolled your eyes, just as Spencer kissed your lips.

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N,” he reminded you in a low whisper, as his lips lingered against yours. “Would I lie to you about that?”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfics #spencer reid x you #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader

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kindauglypikachuicon · 2 years

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I will say this right now if Merlin comes home tomorrow, I promise to stop being constantly mean to him

#Thoughts #So haiyaku fucking come home!#Do not make me matei an entire year just for another banner with omae in it I swear to kami-sama

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cordeliawhohung · 2 months

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In Limbo [Chapter 2]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

[cw: alcohol]

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you.

wc: 6k

It was always blistering hot in that damn restaurant.

Countless patrons packed tight into booths and tables throughout the building on that busy Saturday night, and the heat that radiated off of them was near suffocating. Sweat clung to every inch of your skin, especially in your armpits, and you had never found yourself secretly so grateful to be dressed in black because at least the evidence was invisible.

Despite your discomfort, you performed your job to the best of your ability, per usual. You weaved between tables as you led your guests to their seats, packaged at least twenty to-go orders, and only got yelled at by the waitstaff once for seating a family of five incorrectly. Really it was no different from any other night you worked. Things were always chaotic at a restaurant as successful as Sapori, which made things stressful, but your pay as a hostess was at least manageable. And they turned a blind eye when your hours started hitting over the fifty mark in a week, whereas most other places would be finding ways to get you to cut back in order to not pay you overtime.

It was always better that way; when you didn’t have someone trying to look out for you.

Except someone was always looking out for you, which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised when you saw Row strut through the entrance with an obnoxious pirate hat on her head. Your first instinct was to grab one of the menus and hide your face as if it would disguise you among the backdrop of the crowd behind you. Row was much too perceptive for you to slip away without consequence, so you continued to stand at your station with only a slight grimace on your face as she approached.

“Ahoy, matey,” she exclaimed, though with only half the enthusiasm you knew she could muster.

“I don’t think Jack Sparrow ever said that throughout any of the movies,” you said.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, mind you,” Row corrected.

“Right, of course.”

“I thought you would’ve remembered that better after you oh so ceremoniously dubbed me the name Sparrow after him,” she continued.

The thing was, Row could go on for ages like that, bickering back and forth with you until one of you got sick of it and complained hard enough that the other was forced to stop. Judging by the excitement that pooled in her eyes and the playful way she kept messing with her cheap pirate hat, you knew she could go all night if she needed to. Instead, you sighed as you quickly glanced over your shoulder, ensuring things were still going smoothly behind you before you turned your attention back to Row.

“What are you doing here?” you questioned as you fiddled with the stack of menus in front of you.

“I’m here to pick you up,” Row responded as if you should have already known the answer.

Just as you opened your mouth to question her further, the answer smacked the back of your head. Halloween. No wonder why she wore that stupid foam hat. Earlier in the week you had agreed to go to John’s club to celebrate the stupid holiday, and then completely forgot about it. Which is why you neared hour eleven of your eight hour shift. Usually you didn’t mind the extra hours, however, if you had remembered you would have been finishing your night off in a packed nightclub during a holiday, well… you would’ve been home attempting to recharge a long time ago.

“You’re off soon, aren’t you?” Row then asked when your silence started to stretch.

“Uhm, yeah,” you answered as your eyes flickered to the clock on your left. Five to ten. “Just give me five minutes and I’ll be good to go.”

In reality, no amount of preparation could ever truly ready you for any sort of intense social outing, and you dreaded arriving at the club the entire ride there. You had only been to John’s club one other time previously for Row’s birthday, and that had been more than enough for you. Despite it being years ago, you could still smell the rancid alcohol and feel the bass of the music ripple through your chest as if it would turn your organs into jelly. Everything was too loud, too much, too close.

But this was Row.

So when the two of you stood outside of that hulking building that shook from the inside out, you tried your best not to complain. A deep throb began to gnaw at the soles of your feet from standing for so long, and a tension headache blossomed at your temples, but at least you were offered the solace of entering through the VIP section rather than the main door. Countless people stood outside in line for even the slightest chance of being admitted, which should have made you feel special being allowed through another entrance, but you knew that meant the inside was packed more than work had been.

Except it got worse. Because it always got worse.

You almost didn’t recognize the large figure that stood outside of the VIP entrance, but once those dark eyes landed on you, you knew it couldn’t be anyone other than Simon Riley. That odd, searing feeling that had plagued you the night you went to dinner at the Price’s quickly returned as his gaze meandered back and forth between you and Row. They were soft, inquisitive. As if he couldn’t quite comprehend why you were in a place like that. As if he knew you didn’t belong in a place like that.

“Evenin’ ladies,” he greeted casually.

Even if you hadn’t recognized him visually, his voice would have been more than enough to jog your memory. You could still feel his breath tickle your ear as he leaned over your back to guide your hands into place while playing pool. The sound of him was a delicious baritone you were certain would haunt you in your sleep.

“Stuck on guard duty tonight, Riley?” Row teased.

“Somethin’ like that,” Simon responded.

“Shame. Well, Chip and I-” Row continued as she put too much emphasis on your name while she threw her arm around your shoulder, “-are going to get wasted.”

A slight smirk pulled at Simon’s lips and you couldn’t help but shake your head at Row’s triumphant claim. She could get wasted if she wished. You planned on trying to keep your wits about you best as you could in that foreboding place.

“That so?” Simon asked. He said it as if he attempted to challenge your friend, but he still stepped to the side and gestured to the open door behind him all the same. “Cheers.”

There wasn’t any time to glance over your shoulder before Row pressed onward, making sure to drag you along with her. Walking into John’s club was what you imagined walking into hell felt like. Thick, hot air threatened to singe your hair, and you instantly found it hard to breathe. Countless patrons surrounded the entryway, and it appeared that Row wasn’t the only one who felt festive as many of them wore masks, cheap costumes, or on the not-so-rare-occasion, straight lingerie. The cheering and chatting from the dance floor could almost be confused with the screams of the damned, and you found yourself taking deeper breaths than normal in order to supply your brain with enough oxygen to keep going.

“Come on!” Row shouted. Even with her yelling right into your ear it was nearly impossible to hear her over the mess of music that poured through the speakers around you. “Up top! More room!”

Despite the fact you were in the VIP section, it was still incredibly crowded. Whenever you thought of a section like that, you usually figured it would be a bit more sparse than that. Perhaps it was just that night, wild and full of insane antics, that caused the crowd to grow larger than expected, but there was slight reprieve to be found on the second floor. Though the elevation was higher, the air felt fresh as it had fewer bodies to attempt to weave through.

After you and Row got your drinks, the two of you made yourselves at home at a small table on an overhanging balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Surprisingly, it was quieter there than anywhere else, which you realized must have been thanks to the fact you sat behind the speakers for once rather than in front of them. Still, even with the slight break from the usual bustle, you couldn’t help but mess with the straw of your mostly full drink while your foot tapped on the floor.

“Well?” Row asked you expectantly. She said the word as if she had given you a question to answer, but it was the first thing that had been said between the two of you since you had sat down. “How have you been? Really? I feel like we weren’t able to talk the other night with all the extra distractions.”

“Oh. Well, you know…” you started, but the words died in your throat.

It was never easy answering a question like that. How were you supposed to twist your life into something interesting when you were anything but? All you had done since the dinner at her house was work, and if you weren’t working then you were sleeping with whatever free time you managed to scrounge up. No, the only things worth telling her were the things you couldn’t tell her, but it wasn’t like that was anything new. You had gotten so good at lying, you could almost convince yourself that you were just a very good storyteller.

Almost.

“Just work, mostly,” you excused.

“Oh, come on,” Row groaned. She took a quick sip of her drink (rum, as she made sure to point out) before overdramatically leaning back in her chair. “You always say that. It really is just work with you, huh? Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you get out? Try to talk to people?”

You nearly laughed at her questioning. Out of anyone in the world, Row should have known about your inability to really keep friends around. After so many years of knowing one another, those questions almost made it seem like the two of you were strangers. Maybe you were, in some way.

“I think we both know that getting out is more your thing than mine,” you said, attempting a bit of humor.

“It could be your thing too if you didn’t ditch me half the time I invited you somewhere,” Row countered, not as humorous. As if tasting her own venom, she sighed and leaned forward, face softer. “I meant what I said the other night. You are worrying me. More than a little.”

In order to give yourself some time to think, you raised your cup off the table to take a small sip, only to instantly regret it. Your childish, as Row put it, vodka cranberry was about nine parts vodka and one part cranberry juice. For someone who couldn’t afford to drink all that often, it tasted worse than cough medicine on your tongue, and you nearly choked.

“What’s there to worry about?” you asked.

“What isn’t there to worry about?” Row countered. “I mean, you’re working yourself half to death, it seems like you never do anything for you- hell, I don’t even think you’ve managed to score a boyfriend, let alone make it to first-fucking-base.”

“I think I’m doing just fine without a partner,” you interjected.

“My point is,” Row continued, refusing to listen to whatever petty excuses you tried to muster, “I’m terrified you’re still trying to punish yourself.”

It was difficult to believe that a place so full of life could fall so silent, and yet the only sound you could hear was the ringing in your ears. Tinnitus, the doctors said. Normal. Typical. Absolutely plaguing. There was nothing you could say in response. Her words stunned you, because unlike usual, she saw right through you. At least she put you out of your misery and continued talking so that you didn’t have to.

“Look, I… know we’re not really family. It’s not my place to say stuff like this, but it’s… fuck.” Row cut herself off with a chuckle and a slight shake of her head. “I know I didn’t know you before everything happened. Hell, you could have always been like this. But it’s concerning all the same. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for surviving.”

It must have been the alcohol. Surely. Row never talked about the accident, and neither did you. After all those years, a silent rule had settled between the two of you where you would never speak of it. Not when the anniversary of it came around. Not even when the events plagued your sleep. It was easy to pretend you were quiet about it for Row’s sake rather than your own; but really, you didn’t talk about it because you were certain the guilt would choke you on its way out of your throat.

“It’s not your fault, you know. For surviving,” Row continued.

You swallowed.

“I know,” you lied.

Row raised an eyebrow at you incredulously, and you quickly forced a half smile on your face before she could chastise you for your sloppy deception. Usually you were better at lying, but she had caught you off guard in what you could only assume was quite literally a plea to get your shit together.

“I don’t think I’ll ever not feel guilty about it, Row,” you said a bit more truthfully. “That’s the kind of stuff that stays with you. But I know it’s not my fault, and I’m not trying to self-sabotage or anything but I’ll… try harder.”

A bittersweet smile crossed her face and you found your eyes adverting to the cup of bitter liquid in your hands in order to avoid the sight of it. She was much too caring for someone who didn’t deserve it.

“Well, good. I know it’s more complicated than I’ll ever be able to understand, but I just want to make sure that you know you’re not alone in this. You’ll always have me, no matter what,” she finished, but the words rolled off of her tongue awkwardly. As if she had expected more of a fight from you.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you after her strange attempt at a confession, yet everything continued to pulse around you. The music that vibrated the very air, the patrons who jumped and danced below you like a heaving pile of flesh; it all continued. The only thing that had changed was the stale scent in the air.

“Well, what a way to ruin the fun, huh? Alright, enough sappy talk for the night, I promise,” Row chuckled as she adjusted the foam pirate hat on her head. “I’m just about empty. Wanna come with me for a refill?”

Just like Row had claimed, she spent the rest of the evening getting wasted, and it didn’t take her long to get there. In a matter of hours her speech was so slurred her words blended into the mess of noise around you, and she could hardly hold herself steady when she brought you over to the pool table for what she promised was going to be a quick game. Her inebriation got so concerning you had all but forgotten your anxiety and discomfort in favor of paying extra close attention to your friend, lest she pass out while standing up.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you had something to focus on other than the prying eyes around you. Despite how late into the night it got, the club only seemed to grow more packed by the minute, and you were certain the roof of that place would pop off any moment. Row seemed completely immune to any outside forces as she sloppily leaned over the pool table and attempted to make her shot. Your pool game had gone on for at least forty minutes; half in part due to Row missing a majority of her shots, and half in part due to her not being able to shut up long enough to focus on hitting anything properly.

“This table needs to stop leaning,” Row muttered.

“It’s not leaning, you’re just drunk,” you corrected.

“I know that,” she whined. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s leaning.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes at her just as she flubbed up another shot. She straightened herself up and attempted to adjust her crooked pirate hat, only to make it worse, though, she didn’t seem to mind all that much as a grin crossed her lips.

“Too bad Riley isn’t here to give us some pointers, huh?” she teased.

There was something in the tone of her voice that sent a jolt through your body, and that familiar, yet confusing, heat coursed through your body again. Your skin recalled the way Simon felt against you, how his hands so carefully guided yours, how his voice rattled your eardrum so deliciously…

“He seems busy with work,” you excused.

Row’s grin quickly melted into something else at your comment. It wasn’t quite malicious, yet there was something off about it. Like she knew something you didn’t.

“Shame,” she quipped. “The two of you seemed awfully comfy the other night.”

Of course she would bring that up. Really, you had tried to forget about that event the entire week, but to no avail. No matter how much you distracted yourself, your mind would always wander back to his words and his warmth. The odd thing was, there wasn’t even anything lustful about it. It had just been the first time a man had touched you and hadn’t made your skin crawl.

“He was just being helpful,” you claimed.

“You know, you should just date him,” Row said, ignoring your comment.

For a moment, all you could do was stand there and blink. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being serious,” she slurred. “He’s a good guy, really. Quiet, too. Bit of an arse but I think you two get on well.”

“Row, I don’t think that’s-”

“And you need someone to look out for you at home, too. Those apartments look like they’re falling apart at the seams, you’re gonna get fucking robbed one of these days.”

“Really, it’s-”

“He also seems to be having a much better time following us around now that you’re here. He never seems this interested when it’s just me.”

Ice formed in your veins at her comment, and you found yourself standing there dumbfounded. Following us around? You couldn’t even bring yourself to attempt to look around for him, you were stunned and in too much disbelief to even process it that far. As for Row, her words seemed to have the exact effect she had hoped for, and she didn’t even attempt to hide her grin from you.

“What? You mean you haven’t noticed your little shadow?” she teased as she gestured to the area behind you.

It was only then that you braved a glance over your shoulder, and you felt your throat grow dry at the sight of Simon. He sat at one of the small round tables in a chair that obviously didn’t fit him right. Long legs stretched out to the side in order to accommodate his height, and he slouched back something fierce as if he attempted to make himself appear smaller. Luckily his attention seemed to be absorbed by his phone, which casted a dull glow on his face. You weren’t sure you could handle it if you looked back at him just to find him already staring.

“John likes to send him as a guard dog whenever I come here, since things can get a little crazy sometimes,” Row explained. “I promise he’s not being a weirdo. Not on purpose, anyway.”

Things only got worse after that. Her teasing, her insisting that you try to talk to him, her drinking. Her words and insinuations made your mind spin more than the small sips of alcohol you allowed in your system, and your only saving grace was that John crawled out of his office half past midnight in order to wrangle her in. It was impossible to talk sense into her, it seemed. You watched awkwardly from the sidelines as John steadied your friend by her hips, trying to keep her from swaying too much. All Row could do was giggle as she pulled at John’s shirt in an attempt to kiss him. It was a miracle that she hadn’t gathered too much attention with the scene she caused, but you still found your eyes flickering around the area as if danger lurked just beyond where the light could reach.

Though you got severe secondhand embarrassment from it all, there was something a little endearing about it all. John’s patience with her was unmatched, and you found him grinning at her more often than he chastised her. They acted as if they were the only two people in the entire building, and you wondered what that must have felt like. To not be so on edge that you felt and saw everything at once. To be so carefree that not even the hellish cheers coming from below could distract them from one another.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

You hadn’t even realized Simon had approached you until his fingertips rested on the wood of the pool table in front of you. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to him, but you tried not to stare too long, lest he read every thought hiding in your mind.

“Huh?” you asked; not because you hadn’t heard him, but because you were somewhat perplexed by his offer.

“Thought we could give the lovebirds over here some alone time,” he chuckled.

Everything in you screamed no. Despite his apparent kindness to you and Rows - inebriated - trust in him, you still didn’t exactly know Simon. All he really was to you was a stranger. A kind one, but something unknown all the same, and following a stranger outside always seemed like a bad idea. Still, the air in that building had suffocated you since the very moment you stepped inside, and maybe you were a little too grateful to have an excuse to leave for a little while.

Toward the back area of the VIP section, there was a heavy door that led out to a terrace that overlooked part of the alleyway and the street below. Plenty of people still mingled about, though they appeared much more laid back than the people inside. Cold autumn air chilled your feverish skin as Simon guided you underneath a canopy of lights that hung above your heads and towards a thick metal railing.

The cold iron felt nice in the palm of your hands, and it was only then that you realized how exhausted you were. Over ten hours of your day had been spent at work, slaving away on your feet, and instead of being able to pass out once you got home, you had been stuck at that cursed club. Of course you adored Row, and you would do anything for her, but going through all that work and effort just to watch her get wasted wasn’t exactly what you’d consider a night well spent.

“You smoke?” Simon asked as he shuffled his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

You watched him carefully as he took out a pack of smokes and started beating the bottom of the carton against the palm of his hand. Little hints of the tattoo’s that covered his arms poked out from underneath the sleeves of his shirt, and you tried your best not to stare.

“No,” you replied while you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Good,” he hummed. “Don’t start.”

It didn’t take long for him to light the thing and start puffing away. The scent of it surprisingly wasn’t as strong as you expected it to be, and he was kind in the way he ensured to blow the smoke well out of your way.

“So, what’re you dressed up as?” he asked.

You chuckled at his question and stared down at your work uniform. It wasn’t anything special. Just a plain black dress shirt along with matching pants. Black was always the color of choice in the serving industry. It was easier to hide stains that way, be it from food or sweat.

“Oh uh, a Sapori hostess,” you replied humorously. “Didn’t really have time to change before getting dragged out here.”

He hummed again. “Sapori. Heard that place is pretty fancy.”

“It’s up there, yeah,” you concurred.

“They pay well?”

“Sixteen.”

“Not great.”

You shrugged. “Pays the bills.”

A sharp breath of air sounded from Simon as he inhaled another long draw from his cigarette, and it was only then that you realized that was probably the longest conversation that you had with someone that wasn’t either Row or someone from work. Not even Marco could force a conversation out of you for that long. It was odd. Foreign. Yet you didn’t want it to end. It was difficult to explain, but talking to Simon came natural, even with the insane heat he sparked inside of you.

“What about you?” you asked. “I know you work for John, but what do you do for him?”

“Security, mostly. And whatever odd jobs he assigns,” Simon answered. “Usually end up workin’ nights. Same as you, I imagine.”

“Yeah, though I usually am off by midnight most nights.” You laughed as you answered his question, and you weren’t quite sure why. “I’d be in bed by now if it wasn’t for Row.”

“Row?” Simon repeated. “What’d she do to earn a nickname like that?”

“I could tell you, but I think I’d have to kill you afterwards,” you laughed.

“Ah, one of those stories,” Simon chuckled. There was another pause in the conversation as Simon finished off the rest of his cigarette before tossing it onto the cement at his feet and stomping out the embers. “Alright, what about your name then, Chip?”

You opened your mouth to answer him, only for your lips to instantly seal shut. Really, the story of your nickname was probably more embarrassing than Row’s, or maybe it only felt that way because it was tied to you. Like every little thing about you was pathetic and something to be hidden.

“A while back, Row’s grandma invited us over for tea. The cup she gave me was broken just a little bit on the rim. I was too… I don’t know, nervous I guess, to ask for another cup so I drank out of the broken one the entire time. When Row found out she laughed so hard and said it was like that little teacup from Beauty and the Beast, Chip. She’s called me that ever since.”

A quiet hum escaped Simon as he fully turned to face you. Without the cigarette between his fingers to distract him, he was able to give you his complete and undivided attention. The way he looked at you was strange, and you weren’t sure what to make of the odd churning in your stomach. It wasn’t sickening, nor skin crawling, but it made your insides feel as if they were on fire.

“Cute,” he commented.

“Riley!”

Both you and Simon turned at the calling of his name, and it didn’t take long for either of you to find the source. John marched out onto the terrace with Row stumbling behind him. She had somehow managed to lose her hat since you last saw her, though she didn’t seem too heartbroken about it as she threw her arms around you the moment you were within reach.

“I missed you,” she slurred, rum heavy on her breath.

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” you laughed.

“Too long.”

“Riley,” John repeated again, ignoring his wife’s antics, “would you take the girls home for me? Don’t want them trying to head home alone when she’s this drunk. Take the car, since I’m sure you probably took your bike here, yeah?”

The man fished a set of keys out of his pocket before handing them to Simon, who shook them around a bit as if he liked the sound of the jingle. “I’ll take care of ‘em.”

Getting Row into her car proved to be a difficult task, though it wasn’t nearly as entertaining as watching Simon struggle into his seat. The poor man proved to be significantly taller than Row was, and he managed to bash the side of his head on the roof of the car. After some quiet cursing from him, and merciless giggles from Row, he managed to move the seat back far enough that he wasn’t completely scrunched over, and he took off once he ensured both you and Row were buckled in the back seat.

“This is what you get for being so tall,” Row teased. “I mean, really. There is no reason for anyone to be that tall.”

“You know, your husband is only a bit shorter than me,” Simon retorted.

“Yeah, but he puts his inches somewhere more important than height,” she muttered, just low enough for only you to hear.

By the time you had pulled into the driveway, Row had managed to sober up, but only slightly. Still, Simon made sure to step out of the driver's seat and walk around to the back side of the car in order to help her out. Once she was steady on her own feet, Row turned around to look at you, where she pointed her finger at you as if in warning.

“Stay,” she ordered.

Confused, you glanced at Simon awkwardly before looking back at her. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Once you gave your confirmation, she slammed the door shut behind her and allowed Simon to lead her inside of the house. It only took her about three failed attempts to get the keys in the lock so that they could enter the dark and quiet house. Simon was going to leave then, as she had gotten into the house plenty fine. He knew that Row was more than capable of taking care of herself for the night, despite her state, but before he could even turn around, she turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

“Chip,” she spoke, “I want you to keep an eye on her.”

Dumbfounded, Simon raised a brow as he crossed his arms in the doorway. “Of course.”

“I don’t just mean tonight,” Row corrected. “I mean, even after tonight. Every day or so if you can manage it.”

Now, that request truly did confuse him. He had only met you two times, and you seemed plenty capable of taking care of yourself. You were a grown woman, after all, yet Row attempted to make it seem like you were some helpless creature. Then again, he had only met you two times; there wasn’t a whole lot he knew about you, and Row wasn’t one to be overly dramatic. If there was something about you that worried her, it was worth at least hearing her out.

“She alright?” he questioned.

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Row sighed. She rubbed at her eyes as if she could remove the drunken haze that clogged her vision. “It’s difficult to tell with her. She’s really good at keeping things hidden, but I just know something’s wrong. I’d just… feel a lot better if you were able to look out for her.”

Keeping an eye on what was essentially his boss’s wife’s sister wasn’t exactly how Simon imagined spending his time, but you seemed like a nice enough girl. Nodding his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets as he glanced behind his shoulder at the car you sat in. After all, there were only two things Simon Riley was good at doing; fighting, and protecting.

“Consider it done.”

Once Simon was done dropping Row off, his next objective was ensuring you got home. The drive to your apartment was much quieter than you had expected, but with it nearing two in the morning you were too tired to say anything coherent. Simon seemed to read this, and instead turned up the volume on whatever radio station Row had been listening to when she picked you up from work.

You must have nodded off during the drive, because the next thing you knew, your door opened up and Simon stood with his hand stretched out for you to take. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you took his hand and allowed him to help you out of your seat before you started digging through your uniform for your keys.

“Thank you for the ride, Simon,” you said once you had them in hand.

“No problem,” he replied, though he didn’t look like he was getting ready to leave. It wasn’t until he glanced at the old, somewhat dilapidating, building that you realized he intended to walk you to your door, just like he had done with Row. “Which floor do you live on?”

Each step that you took up to the third floor was grueling, and you would have taken the lift had it not been out of order for the last two months. Your feet throbbed with every movement, and by the time you made it to your door you were ready to pass out. Your keys slid into the lock with ease, and with a simple turn of the knob the door swung open to reveal your studio apartment. A few dim lamps were the only light source for the area, but it was more than enough for you to function in to get ready for bed.

As you turned to face Simon, ready to dismiss him so you could get some well earned sleep, you noticed his attention had been drawn to your door. Everything in that building was near ancient, but your door and windows were probably the worst. Peeling paint, and rusting brass plagued the door, but he seemed more interested in the plating on the frame.

“Find something interesting?” you questioned.

“More concernin’ than anythin’ else,” he muttered in response. His fingers brushed against the old metal plating, and his nails scraped at the screws holding it in place. “How long ago were these replaced?”

You shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

“I’ll get you new hardware,” he said as he straightened himself up. “Someone could sneeze on the damn thing and it would fall over.”

There were a million words that flooded into your mind on why he didn’t need to do that, and you were certain they would have left your mouth had you not been so exhausted. Instead of trying to deny his words, all you could do was yawn as you glanced towards your bed, which had been shoved into the far corner of the room. You were about ready to pass out in the spot you stood in.

“Get some rest, yeah?” he prompted as he placed his hand on the doorknob.

You turned to face him with a smile, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. The light of the hallway casted a dark shadow on his face, and yet his look of quiet concern still appeared so soft. A small smile graced your lips before you were able to stop it, and you gave him a curt nod.

“I will. Goodnight, Simon,” you said, voice nearly at a whisper.

Even though he was a tall and intimidating man, you did not feel the least bit of fear as you watched him stand in your doorway. Any other time, you most likely would have felt trapped if a large man blocked you from exiting your home, yet there was nothing insidious about Simon. Especially not the small smile that managed to tug at his lips as he began to shut the door.

“Sweet dreams, love.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader

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cambion-companion · 1 year

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matey. I have this cute soft idea if you're interested in writing it ofc. basically fem reader where she's a lady of noble blood and knows aemond since they were kids. but there was always this awkwardness around them which slowly turned into disgust (lol bish why you lying, why you always lying) one day she's with helaena or lady friends and they ask her who she would marry from court if she had to choose which she replies with "I would marry aemond in a heartbeat" forgetting that she said that out loud with aemond overhearing it somewhere hiding behind a pillar or something lol. and the next day she keeps questioning herself why aemond is suddenly wearing his nice clothes, helping her with something? and then when she wants to bid him goodnight he replies with a sneaky "I would marry you too in a heartbeat" which ends with her all flustered or something lol. idk what this is honestly, It just popped into my head.

Hi dearest! I'd love to write a lil something based on this lovely prompt!

Aemond x reader | fluff | Aemond being as discreet as a car backfiring

Laughter surrounded you, the ladies you sat with in the fragrant gardens tittering to each other, blushes upon their dimpled cheeks. You set aside your book of Old Valyrian poems and leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay Rosaline, your turn. Who would you marry?"

Rosaline, a lovely curvy girl around your age with russet curls and a freckled face, laughed harder. "I cannot say, lady Y/N. Though lord Jason Lannister is rather easy on the eyes is he not?"

You shrugged. "If you go for that sort of pomposity, I suppose."

"Well, who do you fancy, Y/N?" Rosaline asked, huffing at you with slightly narrowed brown eyes.

You hesitated, all eyes now upon you, growing more curious with each second of silence.

"Well? Now you have to tell us!" A girl with straight brown hair piped up, her doe eyes mischievous. "You were so eager to hear our own secrets!"

"I...I've always. Well. Prince Aemond if you must know." Your fingers clasped together upon your lap, so tight your knuckles went white.

There was a beat of stunned silence, then the girls lapsed into another fit of giggles.

"Prince Aemond?" Rosaline choked.

"Haven't you been friends since you were children?"

"I thought they went for their siblings?"

"He doesn't have an eye, Y/N! How could you possibly think he's a suitable match?"

"Excuse me." You said rather flatly. "When any of you ride the largest dragon in Westeros, then you can talk."

"He is rather easy on the eyes." A Tyrell girl spoke in a thin voice. "Though I've heard rumors circulating he is rather callous and keeps to himself."

"He's not callous." You defended. "Though we do have our disagreements."

"Oh yes!" Rosaline tittered again. You fought the urge to smack her. "I've heard you two have been at odds the past few weeks. Lover's quarrel?"

"I-we are not-where did you hear...you know what it doesn't matter." You rose abruptly, forgetting the book beside you on the bench. "Aemond alone is worth a hundred times more than all of you put together. I would marry him in a heartbeat."

"What's under that horrid eyepatch he wears?" A sneering Lannister lady sniggered.

"Something far more interesting than what's under your garish skirts!" You shot back, a shocked silence following your impetuous outburst.

You cast one last scorching look over the gathered women, before gathering your dress and taking your leave of them, face burning.

You retired to your chambers, skipping the dinner feast, not wishing to see those girls again that day. You were still fuming. It was true, you and Aemond had not spoken since a heated argument a few weeks prior. However, this was not the first time you two had been at odds. Nor would it be the last, you reckoned.

A soft knock at your door roused you from your contemplation beside the fire. You rose from the sofa, crossing the carpeted floor and swinging the heavy oak door open to reveal Aemond standing in the doorway.

"Oh!" You said, too surprised to come up with anything witty.

"Walk with me?" Aemond held out his arm for you to take. His hair looked like it was freshly brushed, shining silver in the torchlight as he guided you down the hall into a deserted courtyard.

The evening air was alive with birdsong, the sky above a shock of orange and red as the sun made its western descent.

"I came to apologize." Aemond said as the two of you meandered out into the gardens you had spent your afternoon in.

"Apologize? You? Be still my heart!"

"Don't make me regret it, Y/N." The prince groaned, releasing your arm and turning to you, the vista of the city's red roofs and the sparkling sea framed behind him. "I behaved...rather appallingly and I regret not coming to you sooner."

"You were a bit of an ass, tis true." You smiled impishly at the way he fought down a grimace at your words.

"As if you were any better."

"I was right." You folded your arms across your chest.

Aemond clasped his hands tightly behind his straight back. "It is a matter of opinion whether Dorne is more progressive than us."

"No, Aemond. I'm afraid that's a fact."

Aemond breathed hard through his nostrils; you watched with interest as he collected himself. "I came to apologize not to argue further."

He opened his jacket and pulled out a small box from a pocket within. "And to give you this as a sign of my...remorse."

You squinted at him. "Did your mother tell you to say that?"

Aemond didn't answer, his brow raising at you as he gestured for you to take his gift. You lifted the box from his palm, undoing the string and opening it. A silver brooch lay within, bearing the insignia of your house. Small finely crafted letters spelled out your house words below the image.

"It's quite lovely, my prince." Your face softened as you took it out and fasted the piece to your bodice. "I will wear it with pride. Thank you."

Aemond graced you with a genuine smile, his eye lingering upon the pin now secured above your heart. You tracked his gaze with interest as it roved across your curves before snapping guiltily back up to your face.

"See something you like?" You teased, flashing a grin at him.

Aemond didn't answer, though he held your gaze as you stepped closer, noting how the breath caught in his throat at your sudden proximity. Your brow furrowed as you looked at the odd expression on his face, nothing you had seen there before.

"Are you well, Aemond?"

"No." Aemond shook his head. "Let us continue our walk."

The two of you walked side by side around the gardens, the deepening twilight enveloping you, stars unveiling one by one in the dusky sky. Your knuckles brushed against Aemond's, you extended your pinky, hooking it around his. Heat rose to your face as Aemond's fingers slid to tangle with your own, your hands intertwined as you strode along the path back to the Keep.

He did not break his grip on you, even as you stood again before your chamber door.

"This is where I bid you a good night, Y/N." He spoke softly.

"Yes, it is." You sounded breathless, not pulling away as he turned to face you directly, leaning down as he brushed his lips to the back of your hand.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Aemond?"

"I would also marry you in a heartbeat."

You stopped breathing. He had overheard the whole exchange in the gardens. Blood rushed in your ears as, wide eyed, you watched as Aemond lingered long enough to take in your expression before he turned on a booted heel and strode down the hallway.

Gathering your wits once more, you shouted after him just as he reached the corner. "Aemond!" He halted, looking back at you with ill-concealed amusement. "Get back here or so help me..." You pointed to the ground in front of your door.

"We can continue this discussion tomorr-"

"No. No, you don't get to say something like that and just walk away." You hissed, leaving your chamber open as you stomped down the hallway to where he stood waiting, his lilac eye sparkling with delight.

Aemond took your forearms in his hands when you reached for him, pulling you in so quickly you stumbled, falling against his chest. "You overheard me today?" You asked, looking up at his angular face as his fingers traced your jaw.

"Mmm. I did indeed. You're quite the sight in your anger." His eye glittered. "Even more enchanting when it's on my behalf."

"They were wrong to say such things." You breathed, your voice only a whisper as the distance between your faces slowly closed.

"I rest easy knowing I have a champion in you, to defend my honor." Aemond chuckled, his breath tickling your lips.

You weren't sure who moved first, or if it was simultaneous, but you felt the press of his mouth against yours, your eyes fluttering closed as your hands buried themselves in his silken hair.

He moved against you, backing you up until you hit the wall, a gasp at the impact opening your mouth to him as he began exploring you with his slick tongue. The scent of him surrounding you, the feel of him caging you in, pressing his knee between your thighs, drew a soft whimper from your lips that he drank down with relish.

"Do that again." He murmured, tugging your hair until you exposed your throat to his touches.

"Make me." You smirked at the arched ceiling, quickly losing what little composure you had won back as he took your challenge to heart.

Aemond made you emit many more sounds of pleasure throughout the course of that night. Stifling your cries with his large hand at one point so as to not alert any nearby guard patrols. With the promises of a lifetime together to come he claimed you as his own, swearing in return to be yours until his dying day.

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lonelym00n · 1 year

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Is it okay to run when you're feeling weak?

Part 3 of The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: You get closer with Tara and all her friends. She opens up to you about her past.

It had been a few days since you last saw Tara, and though she did follow up on her promise to text you, it was hard not to feel a bit sad about the time spent away from her. And sure, maybe it was ridiculous to be feeling that way, but within the short span of time that you’d gotten to know her, Tara had you wrapped tightly around her pinky finger.

You’re currently tucked into your favorite corner of Blackmore’s library, textbooks splayed haphazardly in front of you. Your backpack occupies the chair to your right and the two positioned across from you remain empty, a rare occurrence for this time of the year. You would’ve expected the library to be filled with students cramming for exams, but then again, you had to admit that midterm week wasn’t as hellish as you expected it to be. While you normally despised studying, you were honestly just more thankful for the reprieve from being buried up to your eyeballs in assignments.

Your attention is barely on your studies, way too preoccupied with thoughts of Tara and when you’d get to see her next. The last you’d heard from her was that Sam had her locked up in their ‘dungeon of an apartment’ and that she likely wouldn’t be able to escape for a while. You felt bad for being the cause of not only a huge fight between the two sisters, but the loss of Tara’s freedom too. You’d jokingly told Tara over text that you’d shimmy up the fire escape so the two of you could hangout and she replied that Sam would probably shoot you if she caught you. Having witnessed how scary the older girl was when mad, you certainly weren’t going to find out if the threat was empty or not.

Just as you’re about to turn back to your work, your phone buzzes with a notification. You curiously shift your eyes to it and nearly jump out of your seat in joy as Tara’s contact name is displayed on the screen.

Tara: hey stranger

Y/N: hey matey

Tara: enoughhhh pirate jokes

Y/N: okay okay

Y/N: so what’s up?

Tara: i’m bored, pls tell me ur doing something fun so i can live vicariously through u

Y/N: sorry nothing exciting, just studying for midterms in the library

Tara: shit i almost forgot about those

Tara: i hate house arrest

Y/N: house arrest must suck

Y/N: any chance you’ll be off of it soon?

Tara: ughh hopefully sometime this week

Tara: why, do you miss me or something? ;)

Y/N: god you’re insufferable

Y/N: but… maybe i do miss u just a little bit

Tara: awww i knew it <3

Tara: i’ll talk to sam when she gets back from the store and see what i can do

You click your phone off with a sigh. Sam would probably refuse to let Tara out of the house and you’d be stuck thinking about her from a distance. Whatever reason Sam has for being so protective of Tara must be a really good one. You couldn’t even begin to guess what had happened. Tara did mention that she’d tell you eventually, and you made a mental note to be extremely patient with her in the meantime.

Reaching into your backpack, you pull out a pair of noise canceling headphones and place them onto your head. You switch on some soft music to play in the background while studying and start reviewing the exam material.

You sit hunched over your thick textbook for what must’ve been at least an hour or two. You’re so engrossed in your reading that you don’t notice that the two chairs in front of you are being pulled out. It isn’t until you feel a tap on your shoulder that you register that there are now two people sitting in front of you.

“Oh shit!” You jump slightly in surprise and tear the headphones off your head. “So sorry, I didn’t even see you sit down.”

You finally glance up to see who is in front of you and promptly choke on your spit.

Tara grins cheekily back at you, grin stretching further at the coughing fit you’re now caught up in. “Surprise!”

“Tara, what the hell are you doing here?!” You practically splutter out the question, cheeks tinting pink (as they so often do around Tara) in embarrassment when you realize that another person is witnessing you literally choke at the sight of Tara.

Tara mischievously raises a single eyebrow at you and her eyes twinkle with joy, “You should know by now that giving your location to your kidnapper is a bad idea.”

You laugh gleefully at the familiar joke and a feeling of warmth blossoms throughout your chest.

“Jokes aside, I convinced Sam to let me come here to study for midterms. She allowed it but made me bring a friend with me.” She turns to where her friend is sitting silently beside her and then looks back at you, “Do you remember Mindy?”

The girl looks sort of familiar, but you couldn’t say you remembered exactly who she was. You smile apologetically at her and exchange a quick hello before speaking, “It’s nice to officially meet you Mindy. I’m assuming you were part of the group that helped rescue me?”

Thankfully, Mindy doesn’t seem offended that you don’t remember her. She nods and slowly smirks, “Y’know I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, you were too busy making googly eyes at Tara here to notice anybody else.”

You flush a deep red before groaning and ducking your head down to bury yourself in your abandoned textbook.

Above you, Tara and Mindy snicker at your reaction.

“Told you she blushes easily.” The two laugh some more at Tara's retort.

You lift your head up with a frown etched onto your face. Promptly, you flip both of them off. They each respond with a chuckle.

“Anyways, even though you so rudely insulted me,” you roll your eyes playfully at Mindy before softening your expression, “I want to say I really appreciate whatever your part in helping me that night was. I already told Tara this, but it means so much to me that you guys were looking out for me. I’m sorry for whatever drama I caused in the aftermath”

Tara eyes you softly while Mindy waves off your apology. “No need to apologize. It was the right thing to do and I’m glad we were able to help. Even if Sam did almost kill me”

Tara swats Mindy on the shoulder for her comment. Deciding to change the subject, she scans her eyes across your study space before fixing you with a scrutinizing look. “How long have you been here for?”

“Uhh,” you tap your pencil against the desk while you think, “Two, maybe three hours. Why?”

Tara gasps and tuts at you disapprovingly, “Have you taken a break from studying to eat something at least?”

You shake your head, now that she’s mentioned it, you could use a snack.

She stands up and gently pulls you out of your seat. “C’mon,” she tugs your arm, “I’m gonna get you a snack.”

Obediently, you go to follow, but stop dead in your tracks when Mindy speaks up in alarm, “Wait, Tara?!”

Tara sighs heavily, drops your arm, and gives you a pointed look that tells you to wait where you are while she goes to talk to Mindy,

From your spot a few feet away, you can just barely make out their hushed conversation.

“You heard Sam, she said I need to stay with you at all times! We can’t piss her off again.”

Tara grunts in annoyance, “No, she said not to let me out of your sight. We’re just going to the coffee place right over there, you can watch us from where you are.”

“I don’t know.” Mindy sounds unsure.

“Mindy please? I’ll buy you a brownie and a latte.” You can tell by her adorable tone that she’s pouting and it takes a lot of self-discipline not to turn around to see it.

Mindy draws out a long groan, “Fine! But I’m gonna be watching so don’t do anything I wouldn’t want to see.”

Tara’s smile is triumphant as she skips over to you and threads her fingers through yours. You give her hand a small squeeze.

As the two of you wait in line, she looks up at you sweetly, “So did you really miss me or were you just joking earlier?”

You bite your lip, hoping to god she won’t tease you if you tell the truth. “I did miss you. You grew on me really quickly Tara.”

She sighs happily, “Good, because I was thinking the same thing. I really missed you too.”

You grin like an idiot, so glad that you weren’t alone in your sentiment.

The line shifts up slightly and it is swiftly your turn to order. You give the barista your order and motion for Tara to do the same. When she relays her coffee order, you do your best to commit it to memory. She adds Mindy’s items and before she can retrieve her wallet, you whip out your card and tap it against the screen. Tara glares at you but you only smile back innocently.

The two of you slide down to wait for your food and drinks to be ready.

“Well,” Tara drags out the word and releases a breath, “I know you’re probably wondering why Sam locked me in the apartment or why I couldn’t come here without Mindy. And I do owe you an explanation but-”

You hastily cut her off, “You don’t owe me an explanation for anything Tara. It’s all up to whether you want to tell me or not. Whatever it is you went through, it’s obviously a very big deal. I’d understand if it’s not something you want to ever share with me.”

She pulls you into a quick hug, “I do want to tell you, but I think I need more time. Just so you know though, it’s something that me, Mindy, Chad, and Sam all went through. That’s why we’re all so protective of each other.”

You give her an understanding look, “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

She nods, “Sam’s still really mad at me and she probably won’t let me go alone anywhere for a while. I do want to keep hanging out with you though. Do you mind that it has to be with one of my friends?”

Your brow furrows slightly and you’re fast to shake your head, “No I don’t mind at all. I totally get it and I’m honestly just happy that I get to see you at all. Plus, your friends seem really nice, it’d be nice to get to know them.”

Tara sighs in relief before wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning up to kiss you on the cheek.

You smile brightly at the gesture.

A few seconds later your name is called and you step forward to collect the order. Tara grabs the items you’re unable to scoop up. The two of you return back to where Mindy is sitting.

She chirps out a thanks and the three of you enjoy your food silently. The rest of the afternoon is spent with you continuing to study, with Tara and Mindy begrudgingly joining you. You take frequent breaks to poke fun at each other and your heart flutters happily in your chest. If this is what it felt like to have friends, you never wanted to let them go.

From that day forward, you began to spend a lot of time with Tara and her ragtag group of friends. You loved hanging out with them, they were everything you felt you’d been missing in college. Mindy was sarcastic and hilarious and Anika was kind and bubbly. You liked her especially because she would always put a stop to Mindy’s teasing. Chad was cool, but you found him to be a bit more intimidating than everyone else. You didn’t mind Ethan, he was just a bit too shy and dorky for your liking.

Overall, you found a sense of home in the group. You were so grateful that they accepted you into their circle with open arms.

Your feelings for Tara were stronger than you’d ever felt for anyone thus far in your life. Her personality shone so brightly, it was no wonder why all her friends gravitated towards her so strongly. She was so sweet, yet so witty, brave, and strong. You are beyond thankful that you were lucky enough to stumble into her life, and you tell her so all the time.

The weeks fly by as you become even further integrated into the group of friends. You’re no longer on the outside, you’re one of them. Not a day goes by where you don’t feel so fortunate to have met them.

It’s after one of your many hangouts with Tara, Mindy, and Anika (you refer to them as double dates in your head) that Tara tells you she has a surprise for you. She takes you to a beautiful park and leads you to a more secluded spot, where a picnic is neatly laid out. You squeal like a child and excitedly run over to take a seat on the blanket. A conversation you can’t make out plays behind you.

“Anika and I are going to be just over there. We’ll be able to see you the whole time. Are you sure you want to tell her?”

Though Tara feels nervous, she nods her head nonetheless, “I trust her Mindy. It’s going to hurt like hell to talk about it again, but I want her to know. Besides, she’s in danger even being around us, so I feel like I owe it to her to tell her.”

Mindy agrees, she’d done the same thing with Anika when things got serious between them. She understands the position that Tara is in. “Okay. Call out if you need us.”

The three girls split off, heading their separate ways.

Tara plops down next to where you’re splayed out on the blanket, her thigh bumping against your own. You grin lazily at her.

She takes a moment to herself to admire you. Her fingers card through your hair before shifting to smooth the pads of her thumbs across your cheeks. You relax into the touch, sighing softly.

Tara’s lips press to your forehead and you close your eyes at the gentle contact.

She murmurs out your name and you leisurely open your eyes. “I’m ready to tell you about what happened.”

You open your mouth to protest but she shuts down your attempt, “No it’s okay, I want to tell you. Everyone else is okay with you knowing. Even Sam.”

You sit up straight, “Even Sam? She knows about me?”

Tara eyes you a little guiltily, “ I told her a while ago that we’ve been hanging out. She isn’t thrilled about it, but she was glad to at least know. She’s been trying to meet you, but I keep turning her down. I didn’t want her to scare you away before I could give you the full story.”

It’s a little scary that Tara’s overprotective sister knows about you, but you reassure Tara that it’s fine. “Well at least we haven’t been sneaking around her back, she’d probably be more upset if that were the case. I’d love to meet her someday.”

Tara seems thankful that you don’t freak out about it. The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Tara turns to face you, a faraway look in her eyes. Sensing that things are about to get heavy, you give Tara your full attention.

“Have you ever heard of the Stab movies?”

You scratch your chin in thought. “Maybe? I think I’ve heard of them but I’ve never seen one.”

“Well,” she explains, “The original movie is based upon a series of killings that took place in Woodsboro, California. The two killers, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, went crazy and killed a bunch of their friends. After the first Stab movie came out, the events of the killings became well-known by everyone.”

You’re completely unsure why you’re hearing facts about this movie, but Tara must have a reason, so you remain silent.

“Ever since the original killings and the first Stab movie, different people have taken up the killer’s mantle. These series of killings have been repeated five different times and three of them have taken place in Woodsboro.”

You feel dumb, how hadn’t you heard about a literal horror movie being remade five different times? “Oh my gosh, I had no idea.”

Tara’s eyes brim with tears and she looks smaller than ever at this moment. “Y/N, I moved here from Woodsboro a few months ago.”

You gasp and tears jump into your own eyes. You gently pull Tara into your lap to comfort her. “Oh Tara, I’m so sorry. It must’ve been so scary to live there.”

You press a few soft kisses into her hairline as her tears begin to silently drip down her face.

“I didn’t just live there." She pauses for a long moment. "I lived through one of the killings.”

Oh my god. Your body shakes as your own tears spill out. You hug her closer to you and she wraps her arms around your neck.

After a minute of quietly sobbing, she continues with what you are sure must’ve been a real-life nightmare, “It’s a tradition for the killer to wear a black cloak and a white mask with a screaming ghost face. I was home alone the first time I got attacked. I got stabbed seven different times and the killer broke my leg.”

She cries into your shirt and you clutch her so tightly in your arms. It’s unbelievable to hear that the girl who seems so put together at all times almost died a few months ago.

“I was so scared when I woke up in the hospital. It was almost impossible to believe that I had survived. And then about a day later, I was attacked again at the hospital.”

You reach aimlessly into the picnic basket and fish out a bottle of water, which you then offer to Tara. She takes a meek sip, but gives you a grateful look.

“After that, Sam decided we needed to leave town. It wasn’t safe anywhere. But, I didn’t have an inhaler with me, so we had to stop at my girlfriend’s house, where I kept a spare. It was a trap, and my sister’s boyfriend Richie and my girlfriend, Amber, revealed themselves to be the killers.”

She sobs brokenly at the mention of her girlfriend. You do everything you can think of to comfort her, even while knowing that it would never be enough to make her feel better. The betrayal of her own girlfriend almost killing her would likely stay in her mind forever.

“Fighting spread all throughout the house. Eventually, Amber and Richie were overpowered. Sam killed Richie but I- I-”

You coo at her and rub your hands soothingly around her whole body. She’s crying so hard she can barely breathe and you fish out the inhaler you’ve seen her take out of the front pocket of her pants many different times. You spew words of praise and encouragement at her as her shaky hand wraps around it and she takes a puff of much needed air.

Once her breathing has calmed, she continues her sentence from earlier, “I killed Amber. I shot my own girlfriend right in the forehead. I’ll never forget seeing her body crash into the ground. Some days I can’t live with the thought of what I did to her.”

“I’m so so sorry Tara. She never should’ve put you through that.”

Tara sniffles. “I lost so much over the course of three days. We all did. Our best friend Wes and his mother were killed. Chad was attacked and he lost his girlfriend, Liv. Mindy got stabbed in the shoulder. We didn’t deserve to go through all that pain.”

You hum in agreement. The three people you proudly called your friends certainly didn’t deserve that. You had so much more love and appreciation for them now knowing what they’d fought through.

Tara has calmed down a bit and just as you think the worst of it is over, she speaks up again, “A few more things. Sam is the daughter of Billy Loomis, the original ghostface killer. I learned during Woodsboro that she and I have different dads. Mindy and Chad’s uncle, Randy, was a part of the original killings and didn’t make it through the second. Basically, all of this means that you’re in a ton of danger just from hanging around with us. Ghostface always comes back to haunt the survivors.”

While you should, you don’t care that your life is in danger. You’re more worried about someone coming back to attack your friends. You would never be the same if you lost one of them so cruelly.

Tara has stopped crying, but she still looks so sad. “I understand if you don’t want to hang around us, you know?”

You huff out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. Tenderly, you tilt Tara’s chin up until her eyes meet yours. “Tara, I could never leave you or our friends. In fact, you’re going to have to try harder than ever to get rid of me. Now I’m the one who’s not going to let you out of their sight.”

Her brown eyes swirl with so many different emotions as she looks up at you. You’d pay a million dollars for the chance to take a peek inside her head right now.

You’re suddenly met with the familiar warmth of her lips pressing gently into yours. You melt into the sweet kiss.

Tara pulls back reluctantly and bops you on the nose while she slowly climbs off of your lap. You miss her warmth immediately, but don’t protest.

“Look, Y/N, I really really like you. But as much as I want to be, I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I’m sorry, I never meant to lead you on.”

Tears spring out of your eyes despite your desperate attempts to keep them in. Though you are completely understanding, your heart still breaks at the news. “It’s okay Tara, I get it.”

She wants so badly to reach out and comfort you, but she feels she’s done enough damage for one night.

You pull your knees up to your chest and cry softly. Tara, who you had flirted with and even kissed several different times, was now telling you she didn't want a relationship. Your hopes had been so high that things were going to work out romantically between the two of you that you hadn't prepared yourself for the possibility of being turned away. Regardless of the way your chest aches with sorrow, you feel stupid for crying in front of Tara, who has gone through so much.

You swipe your tears away aggressively, berating yourself for your moment of weakness. “Can we still be friends?”

You don’t even really know why you’d asked the question. Being just friends with Tara, the girl you feel so strongly for, is going to tear you apart from the inside out. A whole new set of tears trickles uselessly down your face, clouding your vision completely.

Tara’s heart clenches at the sadness that oozes out of you, “Of course.”

You can’t stay here anymore and let Tara witness you being a worthless mess. You call out to Anika and Mindy, who come rushing over.

Before they make it into earshot, you whisper to Tara, “I’m sorry. I know it’s the asshole move, but I just need some time to get a handle on my feelings for you. I still really want to be your friend, but I can’t do it right away. I care about you so much, so please keep yourself safe.”

A protest flies out of her mouth as you stand up and dust yourself off. “I’m so sorry Tara, thank you for trusting me with everything, I’ll never tell another soul. See you in a bit.”

Anika and Mindy arrive shortly after you tell Tara goodbye. They try to call out to your retreating form, but you’re too wrapped up in your deprecating thoughts to listen. The three girls can only watch helplessly as you trudge further and further away.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream vi #scream fanfic #devil likes the pirate series #I take every opportunity I can to promote tamber #og script forever in my heart #lonelym00n fic

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casmick-consequences · 6 months

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i rewatched the finale just now, and I have some thoughts.

mainly, i want to thank taika and david for this wonderful show that's brought me immense joy this last month, and i'll always take it with me no matter if we manage to get a third season or not.

did i like the finale? yes, i really did. did i think it was very rushed, had weird scene placements and could've gone with another episode to even things out? also yes.

as far as izzy goes (and this is where it gets extremely controversial knowing how much this fandom loves him); i am actually glad his storyline ended here.

this entire season, we got to enjoy him and we got to see his redemption arc. from someone who is obsessed with this monster of a being, to someone who learns to come into his own, away from all the toxicity and poison. he gets to find out more about himself, and with that grow closer to the people around him and allow himself to have friends. a family, even. would i have loved to see him live a full life like this? definitely. but story-wise, this is a perfect ending for him. "you born alone, you die alone" he said, and then he passed peacefully surrounded by his family and in the arms of not blackbeard, but edward.

i need the people of this fandom to understand that just because your favorite character died, doesn't mean that it instantly turns into a bad show/season/whatever. you have to look outside of your bias, and instead of going "no fuck this show because i did not want him to die" you could go "i am incredibly sad that he died but i'm so happy to have known him and to have him in my life". it's a show, the character isn't going away simply because he died.

but then again, izzy didn't mean as much as he did to the majority of you and i don't wanna go around telling people how to feel, because feelings and emotions are real and if he meant a lot to you then yes, of course you're hurt. and that's 100% completely valid. just don't take it out on the rest of the show and the show writers (saw some ppl say that nasty things were being tweeted at djenkins and that's not ok. at all.)

idk, even after watching it twice i feel kinda... weird.... like too much happened in little time. but i am OVERJOYED that lucius and pete got to have their little wedding <3333 they're mateys!!!! i just wish it wasn't over in 30 seconds, as well as completely overshadowed by izzy's death 2 minutes before.

but i do think the finale had some GREAT bits in it. even if most of it felt rushed, there was comedy, emotion, romance, GREAT kisses (the way gentlebeard was handled in this episode made me very giddy!!)..... it just always delivers.... and watching this with everything else that happened in s2 I can safely say that this might be my favorite season of any show out there.

once again; THANK you taika and david <3 love youuu

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands #taika waititi #david jenkins #ofmd 2x08 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd 2x08 spoilers

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smoothriverrocksrock · 2 months

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The average Narrator simp: "Oh the Staircase Ending is so sad because the Narrator just wants to be your friend and Stanley says he'd rather die than be his friend!!"

Me, the chad Stanley enthusiast: "The Staircase ending is the most victorious of them all because Stanley has been striped of his words so he needs to communicate with actions. He is telling the Narrator that no matter how much he tries to manipulate Stanley, Stanley will always be his own person and make his own choices"

#this is all lighthearted of course #The Stanley parable #Tsp #me thoughts mateys #I will always go buckwild for themes about the inherent freedom and choice that comes with being human

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smicksstuff · 1 year

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welcome to the land down under. home to the poisonous snakes and many creepy crawlies. piping hot tea has been spilt, its brown liquid staining everything it touches. can yn wash the stain away or has become part of who she is ?

The Pitbox Crew Series

read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 here

Upside Down, Inside Out

(f1drivers x yngasly)

⚠️ warnings: alcohol consumption, fighting, swearing, cyber bullying.

a/n: this is a work of fiction. i do not encourage this behaviour. also i apologise for the google translate french and spanish. please ignore the typos, i will edit them soon.

meanwhile on twitter .....

ynusername

Melbourne

liked by pierregasly, paulgasly, isahernaez and 739, 728 others.

ynusername im speechless. i have no idea what race i have just watched 😭😭😭

view 780 comments

scuderiapedrogaseoso i hope pierre is okay !!

yngaslyfans that race was a nightmare but you are still slaying in the paddock

gaslyfc can’t believe i woke up for this race !! all my guys are out 😫😭

formula1girls can we take a moment to appreciate the content provided by yn. girl gave us so many bts to cure our broken heats 💔🥺

formulauno her and danny ric !! we need more of them !!!

spicychilli i mean can we appreciate her and carlos too!!

piastrigirls miss gurl giving love to all the boys!! she and oscar is an unexpected duo. 🧡

oscarpiastri matey you need to learn how to send the photos 😐

yngasly i’ll send it now ! i promise 🤞🏼

oscarpiastri ill believe when i get it 😑

mickschumacher you post all this but not you surfing 🤔

yngasly you promised not to talk about it 🥺

mickschumacher just you wait till your birthday 😁

yngasly thats a threat !!! @pierregasly micky is threatening me with the surf pics 😠

pierregasly @mickschumacher i have more embarrassing ones, i will bring them to the next race for you 😝

yngasly HEY!!!! STOPPP

mickschumacher thats awesome! cant wait!!

pierregasly what are big bros for ❤️

f1fans i like how she is ignoring the obvious! why haven’t you acknowledged the tweets yet!!!!

username7 girl you already did all the shit why are you scared to admit it ?

yngaslyfc omg i made it! You made my year! can't believe I got to meet you.

liked by yngasly and 67 others

f1tea

liked by f1fans, username8, f1fanatics and 6,789 others

f1tea Pierre arrived in the paddock at 8.30am this morning. Melbourne walk was booming with fans having 1 last chance to get their merch signed by their favourite racers.

In non-driver news, the Gasly Princess - Yn Gasly arrived to the paddock at 9.00am alongside Joris Trouche and Charles Leclerc. As they walked through the Melbourne Walk, loud jeering and boos could be heard from the fans. Many were telling her to stay away from Formula 1 and its drivers.

Upon hearing the jeering and boos, Charles Leclerc alongside other drivers Alex Albon, George Russell and Lando Norris who were present at Melbourne Walk proceeded to try and defend their friend yn however their efforts were not enough.

Joris Trouche then took Yn tight in his grip and entered the paddock quick. Sources from inside the paddock say that Yn was in tears and Joris proceeded to walk with her to the Alpine Motorhome. Throughout the Race Day, Yn was not seen as much in the paddock.

What are your thoughts ? Does Yn deserve the backing of the drivers? Let me know in the comments

view 789 comments

f1fans She had this coming.

username8 hate to break it to you but after what she did, how could they not boo her.

username7 she is a bad influence in the paddock. she should be removed.

lordperceval Yall HAVE TO STOP !! this is cyber bullying.

chillichicas i agree! she doesn’t deserve this. yall dont have to like her but at least acknowledge she is human too

spicylovers she isnt your human punching bag

quadrantmania for petes sake. she is just a kid trying to support her big brother at races and yall are coming at her like she committed a huge crime.

landounited lando should ditch her! he doesnt need friends like her

landino and who are you to decide who lando can be friends with

pedromyman what she did was to herself. It does not affect anyone of yall. You dont like it, dont follow her. I for one do not want her to disappear from the paddock again.

vroomvroom why are the drivers even trying to defend her. im sure their teams will not support it.

estiebestie she should just leave. she is not that important anyways.

yngasly

liked by isahernaez, pierregasly, landonorris and 567, 903 others

yngasly i thought i would come here and address the information circulating online about me.

view 893 comments

pierregasly ❤️❤️❤️

charles_leclerc Ma petite sœur toujours ❤️ (translation: My little sister always)

lancestroll always gonna be here for you 💚

isahernaez ¡Mi mejor amigo! Estoy muy orgulloso de lo lejos que has llegado. ¡Siempre estaré aquí para ti! Te quiero. ❤️ (translation: My best friend! I am very proud of how far you have come. I will always be here for you! I love you.)

chloestroll love you baby ❤️

landonorris you can try to get rid of me but you will fail 🙃🧡

yngaslyfans i may not know you personally but im always gonna stand up for you. we all make mistakes in life. its what we do after that- the learning from it that matters the most.

paulgasly ❤️

arthur_leclerc Si heureux que tu sois de retour ! Tu m'as toujours eu ! ❤️ (translation: So happy that you're back! You will always have me!)

carlossainz55 Estoy muy feliz de llamarte mi familia ❤️ (translation: I'm very happy to call you my family)

estebanocon so proud of you 😃

alpinef1team we are proud of you Yn ! you will always have our love and support 💙💙💙

scuderiaferrari one of the strong ones ❤️

lewishamilton so proud of you kid! like i told you in the paddock “dont let the noise discourage you. they dont know who you really are!” ❤️

fernandoalo_official my kid 💚

pierregasly

liked by yngasly, charles_leclerc, f1, alpinef1team and 1,465,010 others

pierregasly Yn Julianna Gasly. My relationship with my baby sister is one of the most important in my life.

From all the pizza parties to celebrate karting wins and her football school team wins, to fighting over the PS3 controllers, to not talking to each other for months, we have gone through it all.

Yn has always been on my side through the thick and thin. At every race she be at the garage or along the fence cheering me on! (charles and anthoine too but thats beside the point) Good day or Bad Day she always made sure she was there for me. She even ditched playdates to travel with Maman to watch me race.

Anthoine’s Passing affected all of us differently. We handled our grieve separately. My biggest regret was pushing Yn away forgetting that she too was grieving the lost of her bestfriend. When I look back, i feel that the road she went down was partly my fault. But with an immense amount of help for her and the family, we got through it together. I hated that my sister was barely with us for those 4 months. But at that time i thought that was best. Looking back, I should have done more. But mistakes were made. Like I told Yn, “Mistakes are OKAY only if they happen once and you learn, and dont repeat it again.”

My sister made a mistake. It is something she cannot ignore. It happened. But she learned from it. We learned from it. Her past does not define who she is now. My Sister is my number 1 Supporter. She is my Person, My Best Friend, My Twin. What has been said online the past few weeks about her the jeering when she is out in public is simply unacceptable. It has to stop. Losing someone you love can make you do incredibly stupid things. But I know my sister, those 4 months was not her.

So please I am hoping that you can understand. The mistakes my sister made in the past is not who she was or is now. Please stop circulating the pictures and videos.

comments have been disabled

taglist: @fangirlika @threedalla @sticksdoesart @ophcelia @gothicwidowsworld @nmw-am @h0e-xoxo @inthestars-underthesun @tyna-19 @champomiel @pitconfirmbutton @clcspeonies @67-angelofthelordme-67 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fulla02 @mehrmonga

credits: all pictures are found from pinterest and instagram

a/n: thank you for reading this far !! If you have any suggestions send them to me!! I would love to hear them ◡̈

if you would like to be tagged when new parts are released, drop your usernames in the comments!! 😁

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gimmethatagustd · 1 month

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venor (11) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 8,963

○ Warnings: Bunny Koo is really cute (when is he not?), Jai wrote too much about ceramic pottery but now if you ever want to make your own terracotta flower pot you'll know how!, hand jobs, blow job, anal fingering, what the gworlies call self-lubrication aka slick, that awkward moment when you know your roommate heard you having sex and you're afraid to confront them in the living room

○ Notes: Me, in my pirate voice: There be smut ahead, mateys! For real though, I wrote this chapter with scrambled eggs for brains, so I apologize in advance for it being so… niche and weird jhsdkfjs. I hope you like it despite that.

○ Post Date: March 24, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

Jungkook eventually goes home, but only after eating a hearty breakfast prepared by Hoseok at his insistence. There was no point in arguing with him; Hoseok’s hospitable nature would never let Jungkook leave without being fed and ensuring he had everything he needed to shower and freshen up for the day.

Such kindness leaves Jungkook buzzing with happiness as he makes the short but winding journey through campus to get to the prey side, smelling like Taehyung’s shampoo and carrying his small duffle bag slung over one shoulder. He doesn’t even care when people stare at the hickeys on his neck as he bounds up the stairs of his dormitory two at a time, not even bothering with the elevator so he can do something with the energy bottled inside him.

Surprisingly, even Yoongi’s nagging doesn’t make Jungkook less enthusiastic about life. He gives Yoongi a dopey smile and shrugs off his pestering questions.

“Where have you been! You didn’t answer my texts or calls! I thought you died,” Yoongi huffs as he follows Jungkook down the hall.

Yoongi’s somewhat bristly orange tail swings back and forth. Jungkook feels bad thinking about how Taehyung’s tail moves more elegantly, even when he’s angry. He doesn’t feel bad enough to stop thinking, though. He has reached the most hopeless part of having a crush, the part when simply breathing reminds him of Taehyung.

“Why would I have died?”

“You went to a predator’s house party, Jungkook-ah. How else am I supposed to react to you never coming home?”

Twirling around, Jungkook reaches their bedroom and flings the duffle bag onto his bed. He shrugs at Yoongi again and lets his body fall onto his bed next to the duffle bag, with his arms flopping lifelessly at his sides.

“I feel all loopy, hyung,” Jungkook smiles at Yoongi, eyes lidded and a permanent upturn of the corner of his lips. “The party got a little intense, but spending the night with Taehyung was so nice. He’s so sweet, hyung, you don’t even understand.”

Yoongi pouts with his arms crossed against his chest. He isn’t genuinely angry, just concerned. Jungkook finds Yoongi’s reaction endearing, considering there really isn’t anything to be worried about. Jungkook is more than fine, even if the situation with Byungchul shook him slightly. Jungkook thinks he understands Byungchul now. There’s no fear left in him for the wolf hybrid, only pity.

“What do you mean by intense?” Yoongi asks with narrowed eyes.

“It was nothing, hyung. I’m just happy I got to spend time with Tae.”

Watching Yoongi’s gaze drop from Jungkook’s face to his neck, Jungkook quickly lifts his shoulders and tilts his head to hide the splotches still dark on his skin. Taehyung told him that they would fade eventually, but sometimes, depending on how easily a person bruises, they can last a long time. Jungkook doesn’t know for sure, but he has a hunch that hickeys won’t fade from his skin for a long time.

“You better be careful,” Yoongi gestures to Jungkook’s neck, “Or else he’ll accidentally mate you.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook sits up and tries not to whine when Yoongi smirks at him.

“What? I’m just saying.”

“We’re not going to mate,” Jungkook mutters, a bit of the euphoria seeping out of him. “We’re not even together.”

Yoongi snorts at that. He rests his shoulder on the doorframe and gives Jungkook a curious look.

“You’re going on dates. You scent each other. He’s been courting you for months. How are you not together?”

Yoongi is right; Taehyung’s affections are obvious. If Jungkook were to make an assumption, he would think Taehyung probably even views their relationship as monogamous, even though they haven’t officially discussed their relationship status. Just the thought of Taehyung with anyone makes Jungkook feel sick.

“I guess…”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and lifts himself off the doorframe.

“Just tell him how you feel and get it all over with, Jungkook-ah. I can’t deal with this weird dance the two of you are doing around each other,” Yoongi mutters as he goes down the hall, his slippers shuffling along the hardwood floor.

“Easier said than done,” Jungkook groans and flops back onto his bed.

It shouldn’t be so difficult to talk to Taehyung. As Yoongi pointed out, they already behave like a couple. Perhaps that would be enough for some people, but Jungkook needs confirmation and a title. He may be old-fashioned or naive, but he’s always dreamt of having a real boyfriend, not the blurred lines that come with the hookup culture that’s more popular now.

The thing is, in Jungkook’s dreams, it was always a prey boyfriend. He’s sure that if Taehyung has dreamt of a boyfriend, too, it has always been a predator boyfriend.

If someone had told Jungkook that transferring to a new university would potentially bring him heartache and an existential crisis, he wonders if he would still have run away to Seoul with wide eyes and a pair of disappointed parents in his wake.

Rolling onto his stomach, Jungkook leans off the end of his bed to grab his drawing tablet from his desk. Lying down while he sketches will hurt his lower back later, but he wants to burrow in his blankets and wait for the day to pass him by. Besides, at this rate, he might finish Taehyung’s portrait before everyone goes home for winter break.

Assuming it won’t be too late.

Upset with himself for letting so many doubts sour his bubbly mood, Jungkook pulls up his favorite Twitch streamer to rewatch her latest gameplay while he colors in the little beauty mark artfully placed on the tip of Taehyung’s nose that he regrets not having kissed yet. At least he has kissed the one on Taehyung’s lip, which he moves onto once he’s finished with Taehyung’s nose. As much as Jungkook loves all of Taehyung’s little details, his lips consume much of Jungkook’s aimless thoughts.

As if summoned by those aimless thoughts, multiple text messages from Taehyung interrupt the video Jungkook is only somewhat paying attention to.

vante95

hey bun

wyd

do you miss me yet

jkookie

Maybe

Do you miss me yet?

vante95

maybe

“Oh my god,” Jungkook huffs with a roll of his eyes, but his thumbs fly across his phone screen with a demanding response he’s sure won’t work but is worth a shot.

jkookie

Leave early

vante95

lol i can’t

we’re short staffed anyway

jkookie

Tell them you’re sick

vante95

wow bun

this whole time i thought you were a law abiding citizen

now look at you

you punch one predator and you’re a villain

evil incarnate

Maybe Taehyung is right; Jungkook won’t admit it, though. A sense of responsibility was ingrained in Jungkook at a young age. It has taken very little time with Taehyung for that previous priority to dissipate in Jungkook’s mind.

jkookie

Stop it 😠

vante95

cute

jkookie

If you’re not going to leave early then go back to working!

vante95

whatever bun wants

hope you’re ready for our PG date 😘

Is Jungkook ready? Considering he has to kick his blankets off because his body grows too warm and the way his ears fall forward to hide his face when he faceplants into his pillow, he isn’t so sure.

–

Not to be a meme, but graphic design is Jungkook’s passion. He feels most at home with tablets and laptops, hunched over his desk with a blanket draped over his shoulders and a spinach-banana smoothie beside him. So when Taehyung holds open the door to the sculpture studio, and Jungkook is hit with the dusty scent of dried clay that cakes his nostrils and parches his throat, his confidence in his creative abilities immediately plummets.

“Hardly anyone uses the studio on the weekends, and if they do, it’s on Sundays,” Taehyung beckons for Jungkook to follow him deeper into the studio, “So we should be alone.”

Alone.

Jungkook’s throat tingles when he inhales, maybe from the dusty air or the spike in Taehyung’s scent when he utters that loaded word. They’ve spent so much time together alone; it shouldn’t feel different today. So why does it?

Taehyung’s tail flicks around his ankles as he weaves through the wooden tables scattered around the room. They’re covered in thick fabric that leaves dusty marks on Jungkook’s black sweatpants when he brushes against them. The entire room is blanketed with a thin layer of ceramic dust. No wonder Taehyung brought a travel-sized bottle of lotion in his backpack. Jungkook can only imagine how dehydrated the skin on his hands will be by the end of the afternoon.

Along the cinder block walls are shelves of pottery and little bottles of what, upon further inspection, Jungkook learns are ceramic glazes used to paint the pottery.

“The kiln is in that room,” Taehyung explains as he points to an unmarked door on the opposite side of the room. “And that’s the pug mill. I’ll show you how to use it, but you need an apron first.”

“Kiln, pug mill,” Jungkook repeats the odd words to himself.

Taehyung nods enthusiastically as if he’s proud that Jungkook is learning. It’s cute to watch Taehyung navigate the room with so much confidence. He’s in his element, even more so than he had been at the museum. This time, it’s clear that Taehyung owns this space. It’s his domain.

Along one wall is a row of clay-caked aprons hanging on brass hooks. Taehyung slips one over his head and ties the apron’s strings behind his back to secure the fabric protecting his ripped jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt.

Jungkook smiles shyly when Taehyung grabs a soft, forest-green apron to loop over his head. His large hands are gentle when they squeeze Jungkook’s hips to turn him around so he can tie the strings around his waist.

“Don’t want to mess up your clothes,” Taehyung murmurs softly, his touch lingering on Jungkook’s body. He slips his fingers under the hem of Jungkook’s hoodie, letting out a pleased hum when his fingers lightly skirt the smooth skin of Jungkook’s waist because he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath.

Jungkook shivers when Taehyung pulls away.

“Your clothes,” Jungkook corrects and feels heat spread across his cheeks when Taehyung winks at him.

On the walk to the academic building that houses the art department, Taehyung tasked Jungkook with brainstorming what he wanted to make at the studio and the method he wanted to use: hand-building or the potter’s wheel. Now that Jungkook has seen the three low-seated electric potter’s wheels in the corner of the room, Jungkook isn’t sure he wants to experiment with something that looks so intimidating. Still, he’s also worried about how crude his pottery will look if he molds it by hand.

“You still don’t know what you want, do you?” Taehyung quirks an eyebrow at Jungkook as he folds his sleeves, pushing them past his elbows.

“Not really...”

With a bitten bottom lip, Taehyung pauses to look over Jungkook again. He huffs when he releases his bottom lip and subtly smirks.

“Well, I know what I want.”

Jungkook may be naive, but he’s sure Taehyung isn’t only talking about making art.

“You were going to show me how to use that?” Jungkook changes the subject quickly, unsure if he can survive whatever Taehyung is pulling. He gestures to the odd cylinder machine Taehyung had referred to as the pug mill.

Taehyung lets out what sounds like a purr when he slips past Jungkook to remove the lid of a giant bin beside the machine. He explains that the bin is full of terracotta clay. He shows Jungkook how to load the pug mill with clay and watches as the machine spits the lumps back out as a smooth cylinder. Using a short wire with little wooden handles at the end, Taehyung cuts off the clay for Jungkook to carry to the table.

“It packs the clay and gets all the air out,” Taehyung explains as he gathers more tools for Jungkook, including a bowl of water with a squishy, worn-looking sponge floating in the middle.

“Why?”

“If the clay has air bubbles in it, it might explode when it gets fired in the kiln, and then you’ll fuck up your art and everyone else’s.”

“Oh,” Jungkook gasps as he lowers onto a wobbly, dusty stool at the table. He’s pleased when Taehyung sits beside him, bumping their shoulders together playfully. “Has that happened to you before?”

Taehyung watches Jungkook with a small smile. He props his head up by resting his elbow on the dusty table and holding his chin in his hand. The studio’s windows aren’t large, but they’re high on the walls, and the golden sun rays of the dying autumn day make Taehyung’s amber eyes glow.

“Someone else’s project exploded and broke mine once,” Taehyung finally looks away to start cutting off a lump of clay for each of them.

“What was your art of?”

“A figurine of a mushroom that was actually just a dick,” Taehyung flashes Jungkook a wicked grin, “I was really immature in high school.”

“I thought this date was supposed to be rated PG.” Jungkook scrunches his nose, and Taehyung throws his head back with a deep laugh, making Jungkook’s skin prickle.

“How many curse words and dick jokes am I allowed?”

“To be considered PG? I don’t think any!”

Imagining a teenage Taehyung is funny. Jungkook sees a tall, lanky boy with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes and a rebellious streak that means he isn’t afraid to be himself, even if his interests are unique – that’s precisely why people are drawn to him. The image greatly differs from Jungkook’s teen years, when he was a shy little bunny who spent more time playing video games and talking to his friends on instant messaging platforms than exploring the outside world.

“Bun?”

Blinking, Jungkook quickly looks away when he realizes he’s been staring at Taehyung. Just when he thought he’d moved past his dreamy thoughts about Taehyung, they swoop back to snatch him up.

“Sorry, I’m paying attention.”

Smirking, Taehyung turns back to the lump of clay they each have in front of them.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to use the wheel.” Taehyung chuckles when Jungkook fervently shakes his head. “So these are the tools you’ll probably want to use to help you shape the clay into what you want–”

“A little flower pot, like the one you gave me,” Jungkook interrupts, keeping his eyes on the small wooden tools on the table. They’re smooth and lightweight in his hand and safer to look at than Taehyung’s heavy gaze.

“A flower pot is a great idea.”

Taehyung’s voice is so soft that Jungkook immediately looks up, and his insides turn to jelly from how sweetly Taehyung observes him. It’s a brief expression, quickly disappearing once Taehyung’s been caught.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung continues explaining how Jungkook should approach making his flower pot using wooden tools and a bowl of water to keep the clay wet and pliable. Jungkook only half listens. It’s too easy to fall into the low lull of Taehyung’s voice, so gentle and smooth, like velvet against skin.

“For our next date–”

“You think I’ll want to go on a third date with you?” Jungkook interrupts, peeking at Taehyung’s shocked expression in his peripheral vision.

“Wow, okay, rude.”

“I’m kidding!” Giggling in a way that cutely accentuates his front teeth, Jungkook squints up at Taehyung and bumps their shoulders together.

“Nah, it’s fine. We don’t have to go on another date.”

Jungkook gives Taehyung a gentle, but still sharp, kick to the shin that makes him try to scoot his stool away, the metal legs screeching horribly against the concrete floor.

“Tell me what you were going to say!”

“What I was going to say …” Glaring at Jungkook with mock indignation, Taehyung sniffles dramatically, “Was that for our next date, I want to do something to learn more about your tech stuff.”

“Tech stuff.”

Taehyung side-eyes him.

“Yeah, tech stuff. You get what I mean.”

“Video games.”

“Yeah, video games.”

The back of Jungkook’s hand is the only clean part, so that’s what he presses to his mouth to stifle his laughter at Taehyung’s ridiculous request, not because of the request itself, but how he requests it.

“We can do that,” Jungkook says with a scrunched nose and rounded cheeks that he knows Taehyung can’t resist, even if he pretends not to think Jungkook’s giggling is cute.

By now, Taehyung should know that Jungkook will agree to anything he requests.

Crafting a flower pot, even a small one meant to hold a tiny succulent similar to the one Taehyung gifted Jungkook, proves difficult for Jungkook, though. If he isn’t pressing too hard into the clay and denting it in a way that makes it uneven on one side, he’s accidentally making the walls too thin or thick.

“It’ll shrink in the kiln. All the moisture evaporates,” Taehyung points out when Jungkook’s first flower pot is too small. Despite Taehyung politely telling Jungkook that he is doing his project incorrectly, it warms Jungkook’s chest when Taehyung explains the process to him.

His second attempt is an acceptable size but wonky and oddly shaped, even if Taehyung insists that it’s cute. Jungkook doesn’t want a cute flower pot; he wants a proper flower pot. Meanwhile, Taehyung’s flower pot is perfectly shaped and decorated with an intricate design he carved on the exterior with a sharp wooden tool. It’s a bit infuriating how lovely it looks.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Jungkook makes two more flower pots until he is satisfied with his final outcome. Flower Pot #4 fits in two hands and is deep enough to accommodate plant growth, giving room for roots to stretch out in the soil.

“I still think it would have been easier if you’d let me show you how to use the wheel,” Taehyung comments after Jungkook shows off Flower Pot #4.

Jungkook shakes his head.

“It looks scary.”

“Like me?” Taehyung teases, his boyish grin growing wider when Jungkook playfully slaps his arm.

Jungkook gasps in horror when he realizes he has left behind a handprint of clay on Taehyung’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry.” Jungkook swivels around in his stool with both hands held up. There must be something to clean Taehyung off with?

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“Bun, you’re fine,” Taehyung insists, standing up. “Come on.”

Taehyung shows Jungkook how to use another machine to flatten the leftover clay so he can carve out little shapes to attach to the side of his pot as three-dimensional decorations. It’s cliche, but Jungkook meticulously carves out petals to create little flowers scattered about the pot, using one of the tools to draw little cuts into the clay and using the wet sponge and a bit of slippery clay to attach the decorations.

“What you’re doing is called scoring.” Taehyung carefully maneuvers Jungkook’s flower pot to inspect his hard work once they’ve sat back down. “You scratch the surface of each piece so they fit together, and then you use the sponge and really wet clay, sort of like glue, to adhere the pieces together. That’s called slick.”

“What ?” Jungkook squeaks, turning to the side so quickly to look at Taehyung that he almost falls off his stool.

A pretty pink blush blooms on each of Taehyung’s cheeks. He clears his throat and continues cleaning up the excess water droplets and wet clay from the flower pot, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze.

“It’s called slip,” Taehyung quietly corrects himself in a gruff voice. “Slip.”

Jungkook is unsure whether he should be embarrassed or amused by such a terrible mixup. Part of him wants to tease Taehyung over the Freudian slip, but he doesn’t want to rub salt in the wound.

The thing is, now Jungkook has slick in his head, and his brain doesn’t seem to want to move past it. The slip is slippery against his fingers as he finishes binding the final decorations on his flower pot, slippery like something else. It makes Jungkook think about the night before, the image of Taehyung on his knees in front of Jungkook hooking its claws in his brain and refusing to let go. He can practically feel phantom kisses tingling up his legs, Taehyung’s face nuzzling in the crease of his thigh.

“Are you done?”

Taehyung’s question forces Jungkook out of yet another daydream.

“Oh, um, yes,” Jungkook says quietly.

Despite the studio’s cold temperature due to its location in the basement and the windows letting in a slight draft, Jungkook feels like he’s burning up under his sweatpants and hoodie. It doesn’t help that Taehyung’s irises look a bit darker now, and his pupils a bit wider; however, those things could just be the studio’s lighting playing tricks on Jungkook.

Unfortunately, there’s no denying how Jungkook’s scent spikes when Taehyung leans into his personal space. They lock eyes with each other, neither willing to break the link they’ve created as Taehyung reaches out to pull Jungkook’s flower pot toward him by the piece of cardboard it’s sitting on. Taehyung’s forearm brushes against Jungkook’s chest, and he exhales sharply. It’s embarrassing, especially since all Taehyung is doing is taking Jungkook’s pot to place it alongside his own on a shelf to dry before Taehyung’s professor loads it into the kiln with the other students’ art.

“Do you want to keep the other pots?” If Taehyung’s voice sounds rougher once he has returned to lean against the table, that could be Jungkook’s ears playing tricks on him from how quiet the studio is.

“They’re ugly,” Jungkook pouts and gets a roll of Taehyung’s eyes in return.

“No, they’re not. They’re unique.”

“I hate them.”

“Alright, the pretty bunny gets what the pretty bunny wants.”

With a teasing smile, Taehyung grabs the remaining three flower pots and drops them into the large bin of clay near the pug mill.

So much unadulterated attention from Taehyung is beginning to overwhelm Jungkook. It’s the damn slip! It’s got his brain all scrambled and his body feverish.

It takes the violent vibration of Jungkook’s phone on the table, disturbing dust that makes Jungkook sneeze, to knock his brain back into place. Unable to answer it because his hands are caked in clay, Jungkook stares up at Taehyung with wide eyes and a helpless pout. His phone is already dirtied from the dusty table; he should have slipped it into his apron’s front pocket.

“Tae, help me.”

“You’re so cute,” Taehyung laughs and motions for Jungkook to follow him to the industrial sink in the back of the studio so they can wash their hands.

Jungkook tries his best not to think about how pretty Taehyung’s hands are, with wide palms and long, slender fingers. Jungkook thinks Taehyung has what the classic writers would describe as the hands of a pianist, deft and sensual. He wonders if Taehyung knows how to play any instruments, and wouldn’t be surprised if Taehyung knew how to play everything.

“It was Yoongi hyung asking where I am,” Jungkook announces once his hands are clean and he can safely check his phone.

Taehyung hums as he puts away their aprons and retrieves his backpack from where he stashed it out of the way.

“Does he think I murdered you for real this time?”

Jungkook stops sending a text to Yoongi so he can cover his face with his hands and groan. Yoongi’s reaction to Jungkook sleeping over at Taehyung’s dorm was embarrassing; Jungkook should’ve never told Taehyung about it. He’s sure Taehyung will never let it go.

“Hey, bun,” Taehyung laughs as he wraps his hands around Jungkook’s wrists to pry his hands away from his face. He ducks his head, forcing Jungkook to look him in the eyes. “I’m teasing you.”

“I know, but it’s still embarrassing, and I wish I hadn’t told you what he said,” Jungkook pouts again and wiggles out of Taehyung’s grasp.

With a gasp and a hand clutching his heart, Taehyung stumbles back in offense.

“Bun, friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Jungkook laughs Taehyung’s joke off, but as the two men brave the chilly autumn night and walk back to Jungkook’s dorm, he can’t help but think of Yoongi’s comment about them mating. Predators and prey are barely friends; they certainly can’t be mates.

Despite the discouragement that seems to haunt Jungkook around every corner, he holds this naive, childlike hope in his heart that Taehyung won’t hurt him. Speaking as a predator, Taehyung has already promised Jungkook he won’t. Jungkook just hopes that Taehyung will keep Jungkook’s heart as safe as his body.

Once they reach the front door of the prey dormitory, Taehyung asks, “Did you enjoy our PG date?”

He looks so classically like a bad boy in a leather jacket with one hand pressed to the building’s brick exterior just above Jungkook’s head, molars chewing the inside of his cheek, and a lazy way to how he speaks that tells everyone he isn’t in a rush to get out of a part of campus he isn’t allowed to be in. Whereas Jungkook is nervous every time the front door opens and startled prey hybrids cross the threshold, whispering about the predator with a prey pressed against the wall, Taehyung doesn’t pay attention to anyone but Jungkook.

Yoongi said Taehyung would cause Jungkook trouble. When Jungkook stares into Taehyung’s dark eyes and struggles to breathe, he knows Yoongi is right.

“I did,” Jungkook whispers through an exhale. He licks his lips before he speaks again and shivers when Taehyung’s quick eyes track the movement. “Blood on a date isn’t ideal.”

“Not usually.” Taehyung smirks and the curl of his top lip exposes a sharp canine.

Jungkook tries to think about something other than when it would be appropriate for blood to be involved in a date.

He thinks about how perfect their date has been and how he doesn’t want it to end even though they’ve spent the past twenty-four hours together.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

For a moment, the only sound that passes between them is their breathing as it harmonizes. They don’t smell like each other, only like ceramic dust and the cocoa butter lotion they moisturized their hands with. Jungkook wants to get on his tiptoes and nuzzle the crook of Taehyung’s neck, but he keeps his feet rooted to the ground and his hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah,” Taehyung’s reply is just as soft as Jungkook’s question. It mixes with the wind that ruffles Jungkook’s bangs, dancing along his forehead like the tickle of a kiss.

Taehyung intertwines their fingers when Jungkook leads them through the dormitory’s front door. Jungkook doesn’t know why he’s so nervous as he brings Taehyung upstairs, his heart in his throat and his palm sweaty against Taehyung’s. Usually giddy with the prospect of spending more time with his crush, Jungkook struggles to even input the code to his apartment without trembling fingers. He hopes Taehyung doesn’t notice, though he doubts it’s possible for him not to.

“Yoongi hyung is home,” Jungkook mentions quietly.

Taehyung isn’t perturbed. He removes his shoes and hangs his jacket on the hooks at the door like he belongs there despite being too tall, too broad. His tail playfully swats Jungkook’s calf as he walks past him down the hall toward the living room, where Yoongi is curled up on the couch, unsurprisingly.

Looking up, Yoongi eyes Taehyung suspiciously as he sets his laptop on the coffee table and takes off his headphones.

“Hey Yoongi,” Taehyung greets with a dazzling smile that even makes Yoongi’s cheeks grow pink and his ears flatten in what others might think is annoyance, but what Jungkook knows is embarrassment.

“Hello Taehyung… Jungkook.” Yoongi narrows his eyes at Jungkook when he creeps around the corner to peer around Taehyung’s body.

“Hi,” Jungkook’s voice wobbles, and Yoongi’s eyes narrow even more. “Taehyung and I are going to be in our room, but, um, just let me know if you need anything, hyung.”

With a tug on Taehyung’s wrist, Jungkook leads him out of the living room and pushes him toward the bedroom. Being introverts, Yoongi and Jungkook rarely have friends over, and when they do, they always hang out in the kitchen or living room. Belatedly, Jungkook realizes he’s never had anyone other than Yoongi and Suyun in their bedroom.

“I forgot you guys share a room,” Taehyung admits once Jungkook closes the door behind them.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Jungkook rushes to start apologizing, his nerves skyrocketing now that Taehyung might not even want to hang out with him.

“You’re such a skittish bunny today.”

Exploring the small but lively bedroom, Taehyung is immediately drawn to Jungkook’s desk. It’s solid and made of wood, with a few drawers where Jungkook stores school supplies and various tech equipment. The desk’s surface is a bit crammed, barely fitting Jungkook’s desktop monitor and laptop, with his drawing tablet sitting dangerously on the edge. The adjacent wall is decorated with polaroids because Jungkook is sentimental and cliche. Most feature Yoongi and Suyun, with high school friends thrown into the mix. There are a few prints taped to the wall, primarily of digital art Jungkook has drawn, but also some he has bought online by small artists. The art ranges from BL fanart to abstract designs; whatever little pieces made Jungkook’s heart happy when he saw them.

It shouldn’t surprise Jungkook that Taehyung picks up his tablet when he admires Jungkook’s extensive gaming setup. Video games aren’t a language Taehyung can use to communicate with Jungkook, but art is.

“When will you show me my portrait?” Taehyung muses, his usually sharp eyes rounding out as he juts out his bottom lip. Feigned innocence from a predator is dangerous. “I’ve waited so long.”

Maybe this is what has turned Jungkook into a nervous mess. For weeks, he has been thinking about a gift for Taehyung, especially ever since Suyun pointed out that Taehyung is courting Jungkook—allegedly. Courting is a way to express the intent to mate with someone, or at least the possibility of wanting to in the future, something that only happens within prey and predator groups, not between them.

Yet Jungkook wants to give Taehyung something in return. Maybe it’s because Jungkook is naive for having hope that there could be something more between them. Maybe it’s because Taehyung makes his heart flutter and his stomach flip, and Jungkook feels sick thinking about anyone else’s scent mixing with Taehyung’s and anyone else getting to kiss him.

“Do you want to see it now?” Jungkook asks quietly as he takes his tablet from Taehyung.

He knows Taehyung will want to. He’s already opening the file on his tablet when Taehyung murmurs, “Yes, please.”

Sitting on his bed, Jungkook pats the space next to him so Taehyung can sit down, too. They seemed silly, standing in the middle of Jungkook’s room.

“I’m not done with it yet, so there are still a lot of little things I need to edit, but…” Jungkook trails off, his face hot and his stomach in knots, as Taehyung takes the tablet again.

With a deep breath, Jungkook pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around his bent knees while he waits for Taehyung to finish inspecting the portrait. The simple design highlights the little details of Taehyung’s face. The focal point is the bright amber hue of his eyes, followed by the constellation of beauty marks that freckle his face.

It means something to immortalize someone in art. Taehyung will forever be part of Jungkook’s portfolio, frozen in time with copper curls and a cupid’s bow that Jungkook spent hours shading the perfect pink.

“Bun…”

When Taehyung looks up, his expression is unreadable, nearly blank. It makes Jungkook nervous. This reaction wasn’t what he’d expected, nowhere near the excitement he thought Taehyung would have. Taehyung’s tail doesn’t even flick; it rests lifelessly on Jungkook’s bed.

“Um,” Jungkook picks at the drawstrings of his pants to stop his hands from shaking, “Like I said, it’s not done yet. I need to add more details and some shading; it still looks a little flat. And I haven’t decided on the background yet, but I have some ideas that I—”

Taehyung’s lips steal the rest of Jungkook’s thought, but he would have freely given it up if he’d known a kiss was the unnecessary but welcomed payment he’d receive for pouring his love for Taehyung into his art. The kiss is more than welcomed; Jungkook is comforted, and his confidence is fueled by it.

Taehyung cradles the back of Jungkook’s head with his free hand as he kisses him, keeping him stable so their lips can glide together. It’s different this time, the way Taehyung kisses him. It’s more ardent, even a bit forceful, though Jungkook willingly follows his lead, even if he fumbles a few times because of his desire to keep up. It’s hot and wet, Taehyung slipping his tongue into Jungkook’s mouth to swirl it around Jungkook’s tongue.

No one has ever kissed Jungkook with tongue. The sensation makes his cheeks flush, and his hands tremble when they search for something to hold onto, eventually grabbing fistfuls of the front of Taehyung’s t-shirt. He’s embarrassed by his body’s natural reaction as his tongue pushes back against Taehyung’s in a slippery dance.

“Tae…” Jungkook moans, breathy and desperate, when Taehyung finally pulls away to give them a chance to breathe.

“You’re so talented,” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s lips, his sharp nose bumping against the rounded tip of Jungkook’s. “God, you’re amazing, bun.”

The praise strokes the fire rumbling in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach, drawing from somewhere in his core and igniting every vein it crosses until he feels like he’s burning from the inside out. It makes him scrunch his nose in a bunny smile, his brain loopy and floaty like it had been after he left Taehyung’s apartment.

“It’s good because you’re pretty, Tae.”

It’s true, even if Taehyung rolls his eyes to push the compliment into the back of his head. Taehyung is pretty.

“It’s good because you drew it.”

Both statements can be true; Jungkook is too distracted to make sense. Taehyung’s tan cheeks are a dusty pink from them sharing body heat. The outside of their legs press together from how they sit, and their torsos twist so they can face each other. One of Taehyung’s hands still holds the back of Jungkook’s head. The other sets the tablet to the side and lightly squeezes Jungkook’s thigh just above his knee.

Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and heavy, but Jungkook sits close enough to tell he’s got that wild look in them again, pupils dilated and irises darkened. It’s a carnivorous look, hungry and greedy. For a split second, fear grips Jungkook’s ribs like a caged animal, shooting something icy and piercing into the center of his heart.

Run.

His body screams at him to obey his instincts. The warning is so thunderous inside him that his breathing turns ragged, made worse by Taehyung leaning in as he slides his hand further up Jungkook’s thigh.

“You’re scared of me,” Taehyung’s voice is silvery and hypnotic. The beguiling tone beckons Jungkook, made more tempting when Taehyung’s tail curls around the back of Jungkook’s knee.

Jungkook shakes his head, but he can’t hide how rapidly his heart beats when Taehyung presses his lips over the pulse in his neck, nor can he hide the smell of his arousal permeating the room, especially to a predator with more enhanced senses than he has. He reaches for Taehyung’s soft curls to gently tug on them when Taehyung’s tongue licks broad strokes over the scent gland at the crook of his neck. Willingly, he tilts his head to give Taehyung better access to his throat and lets out a shuddery exhale when Taehyung licking and sucking his neck sends a tingling feeling all the way to his toes. On his next inhale, Jungkook feels his arousal build, making him wet as he breathes in the sweet summer thunderstorm their mingled scents create.

“Ahh, Taehyung...”

“Hmm?”

“I…” Jungkook’s voice cracks when Taehyung pushes the hem of his hoodie to run his hand up his bare chest. His pinky brushes one of Jungkook’s nipples as his palm slides upward, making Jungkook whine.

“You what?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Saying the words out loud is too difficult; Jungkook can’t bring himself to be direct, even with Taehyung’s mouth marking up his body and slick making him uncomfortably wet. He hopes Taehyung catches on and thinks he does when he pulls back far enough to look Jungkook in the eyes.

The bedroom lights are still on, making Jungkook feel exposed. Taehyung can see him. He can see Jungkook’s flushed face, heaving chest, and glazed-over eyes. He can see Jungkook’s body tremble with a mountain of insecurities he didn’t know he had until now.

“What have you done?” Taehyung’s voice rumbles so deeply that it sounds like a growl.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Chewing his bottom lip, Jungkook nods slowly.

“It’s okay, bun,” Taehyung whispers as he leans in again, pressing kisses against the sensitive skin he’d sucked bruises on the night before, “I can be gentle.”

The soft promise makes Jungkook tremble and slick even more.

Taehyung drags his palm down Jungkook’s bare chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Eventually, he curls his fingers around the slim curve of Jungkook’s waist. Jungkook is naturally petite as a prey hybrid, but Taehyung’s large hand makes him feel even smaller.

Closing his eyes, Jungkook lets Taehyung guide him onto his back with his mouth capturing Jungkook’s and his palm pressed against the inside of Jungkook’s thigh to spread his legs apart for Taehyung to fit between them. Despite the icy fear that has melted into lukewarm nervousness about having a predator caging him in against his mattress, Taehyung’s closeness feels good. He’s warm and solid, a comfortable weight that presses down on Jungkook’s hips. It should be scary, and maybe it still is a little bit, but Jungkook mostly feels restless anticipation that eats away at his nervous system.

With his forearms resting above Jungkook’s shoulders, Taehyung brings himself down to kiss him as he rolls his hips into Jungkook’s spread legs, grinding their cocks together hard enough for Jungkook to gasp against Taehyung’s mouth.

“Mmmm,” Taehyung hums as he takes advantage of Jungkook’s parted lips to bite his bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth to suck it.

Jungkook curls his arms around Taehyung’s neck, tugging him down until their chests touch. He can feel their stomachs flutter, each breathing too hard to move in harmony, especially when Jungkook tries to meet Taehyung’s hips with each roll. Bucking up, he throws off Taehyung’s rhythm, making Taehyung release his lip with a turn of his head to chuckle against the vulnerable skin of Jungkook’s throat.

“You’re so hot,” Taehyung purrs.

“Am I?” It’s a genuine question, not Jungkook fishing for compliments, though the feeling Taehyung’s praise gives him is indescribable.

“Don’t believe me?��

The look Taehyung gives Jungkook is wicked, nothing like the teasing, boyish charm he usually smothers Jungkook with when they’re flirting under the guise of bantering. This look makes Jungkook’s stomach swoop and dip dangerously low.

“I… I don’t know,” Jungkook whispers, on the verge of cardiac arrest as Taehyung slowly lowers himself down Jungkook’s body.

“Oh bun,” Taehyung sighs like he’s disappointed in Jungkook’s answer. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks burn. “Do I need to show you just how hot I think you are?”

Taehyung’s wild eyes stare into Jungkook’s as he props himself up on his forearms to better see where Taehyung is now: on his stomach between his legs. He can’t speak and doesn’t even bother trying to when Taehyung curls his fingers around the elastic waistband of Jungkook’s sweatpants and slowly pulls them down, simultaneously unraveling Jungkook’s sanity.

“Lift your hips for me, bun.”

The whimper that slips from Jungkook’s lips is pathetic, breathy, and weak. He does as he’s told and gives up trying to be quiet as he hiccups through shallow breaths when Taehyung tugs his pants all the way down, taking his underwear with them to leave Jungkook fully exposed.

“Such a cute little cock,” Taehyung purrs, dark eyes shooting up to watch Jungkook’s face light up bright red.

Taehyung may have promised to be gentle, but he doesn’t hesitate. His hand wraps around Jungkook’s cock with confidence, his thumb immediately swiping over the precum that has already wet the tip.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook whines through his teeth in a poor attempt to keep quiet.

Yoongi’s presence right across the hall looms over Jungkook’s head as Taehyung begins pumping his cock, spreading the slippery precum in circles around the head with his thumb before spreading it further down to aid in the drag of his palm along the shaft.

Jungkook can’t stop squirming, even when Taehyung hooks one of his arms around his thigh to keep him still. All Taehyung is doing is jerking him off languidly and with a loose grip. Still, Jungkook already feels the overwhelming pressure of his orgasm building and pulsing every time Taehyung’s big hands engulf his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive. You’re soaking the bed,” Taehyung groans as he uses his grip on Jungkook’s thigh to spread him open further.

Jungkook chokes on his next inhale when Taehyung ducks his head to lick a fat stripe up Jungkook’s inner thigh, quietly moaning when he tastes Jungkook’s slippery slick. The visual of Taehyung’s wet, shiny lips and the sound of his low moan are enough to send Jungkook over the edge. He cums with a wail his neighbors and Yoongi are sure to hear, his eyes squeezed shut and his head thrown so far back that he can barely hold himself up on his forearms.

He only gets a few seconds to catch his breath before Taehyung starts pumping his cock again, the slide this time much smoother and more sensual since he uses Jungkook’s cum like lube.

“Tae-Taehyung, wait,” Jungkook gasps as he tries to sit up. He doesn’t get far. Taehyung’s clean palm presses against his lower abdomen, pushing him backward to rest on his forearms again despite the tremble ripples through his legs.

“Relax, bun, sit back and trust me.”

Jungkook doesn’t understand until Taehyung squeezes the base of his cock, holding it in place so he can keep it steady when he flicks his tongue against the wet tip, tasting him again.

“Tae —”

“You’re still hard,” Taehyung smirks as he tilts his head so he can press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Jungkook’s cock and licks away the cum left behind on his lips. “And I heard bunnies can cum more than once. Is that true?”

It is, but Jungkook doesn’t know that as a fact. No one has ever gotten him off before, and the times he’s gotten off alone, he doesn’t think he was ever aroused enough to still be hard after. It has to be Taehyung doing this to him, but Jungkook can’t verbalize any of this. Every time he opens his mouth, a high-pitched moan comes out instead of actual words.

Not waiting for an answer to his question, Taehyung locks eyes with Jungkook as he closes his lips around the head of his cock. He suckles the head hard as he massages the underside with his tongue.

“Oh, my g-god, T-Tae,” Jungkook sobs, all his concerns about being too loud leaving his mind.

Everything leaves his mind. His brain completely blanks when Taehyung sucks more of his cock into his mouth with a low hum. He easily takes the whole thing until his nose is pressed against Jungkook’s lower abdomen, swallowing consecutively, each time harder than the last.

Jungkook can’t breathe. He digs his fingers into his blankets and squeezes them so tightly that he draws his entire body taunt. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even blink, just watches Taehyung bob his head to a rhythm just slow enough to keep Jungkook’s second orgasm at bay.

That is until Taehyung squeezes one of Jungkook’s thighs and presses it up so his bent leg drapes over Taehyung’s shoulder. Hot tears slip down Jungkook’s cheeks when Taehyung reaches between Jungkook’s legs to ease a long finger past his rim, the slick taking away any resistance. Swallowing at the same time he presses against Jungkook’s walls with his finger, Taehyung coaxes a second orgasm out of Jungkook as if he played him like an instrument.

Jungkook thinks he blacks out. Something skips in his brain, some kind of blip, like a scratched record or a flicker of the lights during a thunderstorm. His throat and chest burn, and his head throbs with the onset of a migraine.

Collapsing onto his back, Jungkook pants heavily. His arms and legs give out, flopping lifelessly at his sides. He thinks he hears Taehyung speak, but the ringing in his ears drowns out everything. It’s almost as disorienting as the black spots speckling his vision. The spots swim to new positions in his eyes every time he blinks, some tiny pinpricks while others are splotches large enough to block out whole items in his vision.

“Bun,” Taehyung calls out to him.

When Jungkook blinks, most of the black spots are gone, and he can see Taehyung’s pretty eyes staring into his soul. They’re bright, a soft amber, and his pupils are back to normal. Rather than lust twisting his expression, concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Hi,” Jungkook winces when his voice comes out hoarse.

“Fuck, you freaked me out,” Taehyung admits weakly. He brushes Jungkook’s sweaty bangs away from his face to kiss his forehead. “You, like, passed out while still being conscious.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose. “I don’t think that’s a thing, Tae.”

“Well, it just happened, and it freaked me the fuck out.”

Taehyung continues caressing Jungkook’s head, running his now clean fingers through Jungkook’s hair. It’s relaxing and contributes to the warm, sleepy feeling seeping into Jungkook’s body. Taehyung just got him off. His pretty, sweet, talented, funny, hot, precious tiger gave Jungkook two mind-blowing orgasms. Jungkook might consciously pass out again.

“Sorry for freaking you out,” Jungkook apologizes with a sweet smile that Taehyung can’t resist. He ducks his head down to kiss Jungkook, though this kiss is gentle and innocent — aside from the fact that Jungkook can taste himself on Taehyung. That in itself makes Jungkook’s stomach stir.

“I’m never giving you head ever again.”

Scrunching his eyebrows, Jungkook pouts as Taehyung helps him sit up and put his pants on. He cringes when he notices how wet the bed is; Taehyung hadn’t just said that to be sexy.

“No, it was nice. I liked it.”

“Of course you did,” Taehyung’s snort ends in a cocky smirk, “I’m great at it. But, also, everyone likes getting head.”

Emboldened by his sexual awakening — or perhaps lacking inhibitions from having a blank, loopy, fucked out brain — Jungkook eyes Taehyung’s crotch.

“Does that mean you like it?”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s chin and forces him to look at him. “I think your brain hasn’t gotten enough oxygen.”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whines, beating his fist softly against the bed. “I want to make you feel good, too. Let me try.”

Taehyung doesn’t let go of Jungkook’s face, but his hold slackens as he closes his eyes. He takes a deep, intentional breath that’s shaky when exhaled, despite how seemingly unaffected he is otherwise. Jungkook may not have the predatory urge to devour like Taehyung does, but he likes the idea of pleasuring Taehyung, knowing that he could give back what Taehyung has given to him.

“Please,” Jungkook whispers, and Taehyung can’t possibly say no.

“Hands only.” Taehyung gives Jungkook a pointed look as he settles at the head of the bed with his back against the wall and a pillow behind him to keep his tail comfortable.

Jungkook is riding an adrenaline-fueled, orgasmic high when he grabs Taehyung’s shoulders to steady himself as he swings a shaky leg over to straddle his thighs.

“I want to be able to kiss you easier,” Taehyung admits when he explains why he prefers that Jungkook straddle him rather than kneel beside him. It feels like a perfect position for Jungkook, who would spend the rest of his life staring into Taehyung’s eyes if he could.

Taehyung smacks Jungkook’s ass playfully to get him to lift up briefly so Taehyung can shimmy his jeans down until he can pull his cock out. Jungkook keeps his hands on Taehyung’s broad shoulders while Taehyung adjusts himself. It’s nerve-wracking, even though Jungkook insisted that this happen. Sweet, considerate Taehyung was willing to ignore his own arousal; Jungkook wouldn’t let it go.

So why is he so nervous now?

“It isn’t prickly,” Taehyung whispers with mischief sparkling in his eyes, likely noticing Jungkook’s sudden anxiety.

Jungkook smiles shyly when he asks, “No cheese grater?”

“No cheese grater.”

Taehyung’s hand is warm against Jungkook’s when he takes his hand from his shoulder and slowly brings it down to wrap it around his cock. They both sigh at the touch, the back of Taehyung’s head hitting the wall with a quiet thud.

Looking between them, Jungkook confirms Taehyung’s joke: no prickly dick. It looks just like Jungkook would expect, the same general look as his own, though much bigger — not that Jungkook ever fantasized about Taehyung’s dick. He most certainly did not!

“Spit first,” Taehyung instructs and hums in satisfaction when Jungkook spits in his hand before he drags his fist over his cock.

Once Jungkook has picked up a smooth rhythm, Taehyung squeezes the nape of his neck to pull him forward in a rough kiss. Jungkook’s head spins as Taehyung growls into the kiss, his teeth scraping and biting Jungkook’s lips, and his tongue laving over them like a soothing apology. Taehyung doesn’t whimper or whine like Jungkook had; instead, he growls and moans with a low purr that Jungkook feels rumble in his own chest.

“Go faster,” Taehyung purrs against Jungkook’s swollen lips as he bucks upward with a squeeze of Jungkook’s hips to keep him from toppling over.

Eager to please, Jungkook increases his movements, adding his other hand to roll over the wet tip of Taehyung’s cock. It’s a move that Jungkook enjoys on himself sometimes, so he’s pleased when Taehyung groans and tilts his head back. Jungkook leans forward to scatter kisses along Taehyung’s neck, too afraid to suck deep bruises there but enjoying the feel of the smooth skin beneath his lips.

“Does it feel good?” Jungkook asks shyly, his breath catching in his throat when Taehyung’s dark gaze falls on him again.

“Mm, yeah, you’re doing a good job, bun,” Taehyung caresses the side of Jungkook’s face, holding his cheek in a gesture too soft for what they’re doing. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he almost stops moving.

“Oh! What do I do?”

Taehyung quickly grabs Jungkook’s hand and continues jerking himself off using Jungkook's hand until he’s confident Jungkook won’t stop.

“Cover it.”

Jungkook watches for a sign and thinks he finds one when Taehyung squirms briefly before his body locks up with a low moan that he releases as he leans forward to nuzzle the crook of Jungkook’s neck. Maybe it’s cliche, but Jungkook thinks Taehyung is beautiful like this, swept up in raw pleasure.

Then again, Jungkook thinks Taehyung is always beautiful.

It’s a messy affair, but Jungkook knew it would be, so he has a small towel on hand. He stays still until Taehyung calms down, only cleaning him up once Taehyung is no longer too sensitive. They’re both loopy and exhausted from their orgasms but also from the unique energy it takes to experience intimacy with someone new for the first time — especially for Jungkook.

“So much for a PG date,” Taehyung grins while he wiggles into the biggest sweatpants Jungkook could find in his closet. They’re still too tight on Taehyung and end right at his ankles, but they’re more comfortable than jeans.

“Our date was technically over, so I don’t think this counts.”

Jungkook yawns and pats the bed for Taehyung to climb under the blankets. The bed isn’t big enough for both of them to lie side by side, so Jungkook lies on Taehyung’s chest. It’s more comfortable than a mattress, if Jungkook wants to be corny.

“I can ask hyung if you can sleep over,” Jungkook offers quietly.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll never want me back in your dorm ever again,” Taehyung says in a grave tone, and Jungkook can tell he’s serious. “I’m actually afraid to leave this room right now.”

“Oh my gosh, Tae.”

“Bun… you are loud. You are so loud.”

With a whine, Jungkook tucks his face against Taehyung’s chest to hide his embarrassment. It doesn’t matter; they turned the lights off, so the room is too dark to notice Jungkook’s pink cheeks. Even then, Taehyung doesn’t need to see Jungkook’s face to know he’s being shy.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fucking hot.”

Taehyung gently scratches the dark fur of Jungkook’s ears, and Jungkook can hear the smile in his voice. Too tired to scold Taehyung for causing him even more embarrassment, Jungkook closes his eyes and focuses on the steady beat of Taehyung’s heart and basks in the warmth that comes with falling asleep in Taehyung’s arms for the second night in a row.

Even if Yoongi will be pissed when he realizes Taehyung never left.

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd &daddytaehyungie).

#taekook #taehyung x jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #venor #jai writes #gimmethatagustd

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starrclown · 4 months

Text

☆ Redesign Time: Nifty, the lovable and SUCH A WASTE OF POTENTIAL ☆

(Sorry that title got aggressive. New series though! I now have, Have Tea With Me and Redesign Time.)

Ahoy Matey's, we are here to talk about my favorite Hazbin Hotel character. Yes, Nifty is my favorite. I've loved her ever since she stepped into the pilot. She's just so fun and silly and God I love her so much. But litteraly no one cares about her and that bothers me SO much. Like no one talks about her unless Alastor and Husk are involved. There is little to no merch of her. It's just so depressing man. But I love this little bug alien and I wanna rewrite her a story and redesign her cause her design is just not it.

(Also I wanna clarify something. With any redesigns and rewrites I do, they can change. Hazbin hasn't come out yet as of time of writing so Nifty may actually get a story. Maybe. I severely doubt it. These designs are for fun and fun only. I do genuinely like Hazbin Hotel and want it to succeed. This also isn't a attack on Vivziepop or SpindleHorse productions. Vivzie has been accused of alot but I'm not touching up on that. These designs are for fun and my own personal spin on things. Please don't harass me. Seriously artists have been harassed for redesigns and it's actually sickening. These are for fun, don't take it personally. ALSO!! DO NOT TRY TO ANIMATE THESE. I don't want no comments about how these are not animation friendly. I know. These are just showing of my level of art and a coherent story. Cool? Cool.)

☆Nifty's Redesign!!

Nifty's cannon design is just not it. Let's play a game. What is Nifty?

Nifty, Wiki confirmed, is supposed to be a reference to bugs and aliens. Where? Besides her arms and legs Nifty has no bug features. Nifty also died in the 50's. Can you tell? No, you can't. Nifty is nothing like what she is described. That's the issue with most of the designs of Vivzie. They are nothing like how they are described. I've seen a couple of times that people didn't know that Alstor was supposed to be a deer, Vaggie is a moth, Charlie is based of dolls and goats, and Angel is a spider from the 40's. Nifty's design needs touching up, so let me show you my design!!

(I'm iffy on this. I think there are things I can improve)

She's a little lady!! Let me explain certain parts of my design.

1. Hair. Curled hair was a big thing in the 50's. Nifty is cannonically Japanese so she would probably curl her hair. I wanted her hair to be this messy curly/wavy mop. Why is Nifty's hair fire colored? I thought it was so cool when Nifty came through the fire. In my rewrite I want fire to be a part of Nifty. (You'll see in a little bit.) I also gave her antennas.

2. Face. I changed Nifty to green to give her a bug/alien type feel. I gave her small little bug choppers and red rosy cheeks. I kept her one eye cause it makes her face stand out.

3. Clothing. I might have to change her clothes but I think I did a decently good job with her clothing. I gave her a apron with stitches to symbolize her obsession with chores. I gave her gloves because she's also the cook. I made her dress blue instead of red to contrast her hair and it makes her dress pop.

4. Bug features. Nifty now has antennas that move along with her emotions. She has her bug choppers, I gave her more bug like legs and arms, and finally, wings. There small so I imagine she can fly for small amounts of time.

I just wanted Nifty to feel more bug like. I also wanted her 50's background to shine through!!

(I cut out a whole section on her human life cause I want to save that until I get the main cast done.)

Feel free to leave criticism in the comments. I actually really like certain parts if the design!! Nifty deserves SO much better than Hazbin has given her and I'm here to deliver it!!

(I don't know what will be next. It could be tea time or another redesign. A fic if mine is almost is finished though so if your interested check it out)

😘🫶

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#artwork #digital art #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel redesign #Nifty redesign #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #i love Nifty so much guys #shes so silly

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ruiniel · 4 months

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Hidden

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: T (🔞later)

Count: 1.4k

Tags & Warnings: Mutual pining, Romantic angst, Unresolved emotional tension, Second Person POV, Two people running from their feelings like their lives depend on it, for Reasons

Part I Part III

II. Breaking

“Ow!”

Adrian looks up at the child’s scrunching face as he holds her arm, wrapping the gauze around the gash. “I’m sorry, Sara, but next time please be careful.”

“I was, Pavel pushed me,” she complains, just in time for the accused to spring up from his spot.

“No, I didn’t, you slipped!”

“Running away from you!”

“Enough, please,” Adrian says, and the two fall silent. “This could have been your head. You must take care of each other, remember?”

“Yes…” come two almost-chastened voices.

They run off as soon as he’s done, and rising to his feet, he stares at the deepening shades across the skies.

He debates whether to linger and return the supplies later, or give in to a wretched need to return to the laboratory this moment, only to bask in more of his own misery.

It’s no one’s fault, really. He let this bloom, he nurtured it with every evening spent together, every trip to the woods, every late night spent debating in the library, ending with your head falling on his shoulder, your breath slowing with sleep.

He walks back towards the looming shadow of his home, slow and hesitating, considering whether to force himself to turn aside. No matter his self-deprecation, the fact is: he waited too long. And perhaps, you weren’t even looking at him that way, the way he thought you were in those few sparse moments of delusion.

But today, holding you against him felt so good it shamed him. The way your skin felt against his, the weight of you in his arms, a dizzying sensation rushing through his blood like lava.

Well. You’ve chosen your path.

But he's slowly learning: all good things have a habit of ending.

Your gaze moves from Matei’s bag which he’d let drop to the floor, to his face.

“You… you did what?”

“I told you,” he’s positively beaming. “The magister accepted me as his pupil. We can move away to a larger community, and I’ll have a decent wage, and you know what this means, don’t you?”

Your mind fails to jump over ‘move away’, which feels like something heavy and sharp has dropped down your stomach. “Matei, we never discussed this.”

“I know, but it happened… as a fluke! I gave him the needed papers and one thing led to another… do you understand? We’ll be faring well, and I’ll take care of you and you’ll never have to work a day!”

You should be glad for his joy, but the words bite instead, and you remove your arm from his excited grasp. “Matei, but I… I want to work. My apprenticeship isn’t over, and leaving now means quitting. I want to be a doctor. Remember?”

Matei sighs, as though being reminded of something unpleasant, then runs a hand through his dark locks. “Right, right… but this is… if this isn’t good fortune I don’t know what is!”

You’re shaking. You were feeling guilty for not missing him much, but now the feeling has less hold than it did. “And what about my good fortune?” You try to rein in your mounting frustration, seeing his silence for what it is. He is a good man, you remember, but he, too, is only human. “You… you never believed in me, did you?”

His shoulders sag as Matei looks away. “You wouldn't have to struggle with that anymore.”

He makes no move to stop you when you turn and walk away.

Where to go, what to do?

Over and over you twist and turn this thought and that, walking without purpose as one smitten. Late you realize you’ve entered the castle, and the lonely corridors tinted by yellow light at this time of night feel too small.

In a strange development, you are slighted. You’d told him how much this meant, he seemed to understand. Groaning and barely holding back tears, you walk and climb stairs until you can’t, until your dress is wet on your back as you reach an exit.

It’s the same corner of the castle, where you like to come and think, sometimes. As you step forward, you realize you’re not alone: Adrian stands there, his body tilted forward, resting with his arms folded over the edge, his face lowered and hidden by them.

He’s not seen you of course, but knowing his abilities, he surely heard your steps.

As the days passed, Adrian became a scarce figure in your life. The laboratory, once a space of collaboration, now echoes with his lingering absence. He seems to avoid your gaze, the former warmth replaced by a formality that creates a subtle and painful distance between you. Yet, in quiet moments like these, when moonlight bathes the village below in a soft glow, you can't escape the memories of that night on the battlement. The pendant, a silent witness, rests against your heart like a heavy secret.

The air is crisp, and the scent of blooming flowers mingles with the distant voice of the forest. You’re drawn by an invisible thread, closer: it hurts less now that he’s here.

Adrian slowly raises his head, staring into the horizon. His gaze flickers to you for a breath, caught by the shimmer of the pendant.

“Adrian,” you speak his name softly, uncertain of how he'll respond.

“Hello.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” You walk closer, dropping to the ground not far from him, your arms circling your knees.

“If you wish, I can go,” he murmurs without turning.

You linger in silence, breaking inside from his words like a second blow to the chest. “I don’t wish it.” It must have escaped through your voice as he turns then, gazing down at you.

“Did something happen?”

You can’t look at him. “He wants to leave.”

“Leave?”

There’s no change in his voice or his stance. You continue, unable to stop. “Matei wants to move away for a post. And he wants me to go with him to Brașov, for good.”

He was always easy to confide in, and despite your feelings for him nowadays and their hurts, Adrian is still your closest friend—and very silent now.

“And what about… your apprenticeship?”

You look at him then, really look at him. In the weak light of a faraway lamp burning by the entrance, the gleam of his eyes feels strange.

Shaking your head, you rest your chin on your knees. “I suppose that’s obvious, isn't it?”

Adrian takes a slow step, then another, and heavily sits down by your side with a sigh. You look sideways at him as he rests his head against the stone wall. “Brașov is quite far.”

Well, what did you expect him to say? Don’t go? Don’t leave, please? Your fantasies are as deluded as you are.

“When?”

You tell him of the details, the words like stones heavy in your mouth. He listens, eyes never leaving your face, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t want to leave,” you finally say, looking away. “My… my life is here.” You are here. If only you dared to speak it, but even so—a useless confession might alienate him further and you need him, selfish creature that you are.

The sensation of warm fingers startles you as they glide down your face. You don’t even know when you’d begun to weep. Damned hell, he’s so close.

“I have no solution to offer,” Adrian says. His voice is odd, strangled as though something presses down his windpipe. “This is… an important turning point, and I don’t envy you in the slightest. Only you know what you want your life to be. Will you follow your truth?”

There is warmth in his words, and his hand lingers on your face. You ought to do something, but if you move, this is over, and it becomes a memory.

Adrian watches as you nod, grateful and miserable. Maybe going away is best? How else to forget, and regain the freedom of spirit these feelings stole? But being here, now, is the most honest and true to yourself you’ve been in a long time.

His thumb tickles the corner of your lips, and without thought your tongue shyly grazes it, tasting the salt of your tears.

Adrian’s eyes widen; in a haze, you realize what you’ve done. For one terrifying moment that leaves you dizzy, he looks as though he's about to do something, leaning towards you.

His touch burns on your skin. He swallows emptily then rises as one drunk, and you dare not stop him, or turn to look. Trapped in your mortification, you listen to his rushed footsteps and the creaking door being hastily shut, leaving you alone.

Part III

#adrian tepes x reader #alucard castlevania x reader #castlevania x reader #castlevania x you #castlevania alucard x reader #alucard x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction #x reader #castlevania imagine #adrian tepes x you #alucard x you

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jokeringcutio · 7 months

Note

Halloween requests!!! I've been vibing for pumpkin season since September 1st, so this is fantastic! I can't wait to see what Halloween horrors abound here 😍

Hook (Peter Pan 2003) x female reader

Smut: No preference, so whatever strikes your fancy

Reader is at a Halloween party and somehow ends up in Neverland? Bonus if Hook has something to say about her pirate costume (author's choice if it's in the style of big boxstore tacky, sexy, 'authentic', or what have you 🙃)

If you aren't up for the request, it's all good!

Captain James Hook (imagine Jason Isaac’s Hook) x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Halloween Party, Pirates, Kiss. AN: Hope you enjoy! I am open for Reader insert requests, come at me ya'll.

Halloween Pirate

The night was alive with the laughter and chatter of guests, their costumes creating a colorful sea through which you had to find your way. The Halloween party was in full swing, held within a grand ballroom adorned with cobwebs and flickering candles, casting eerie shadows upon those who danced beneath the crystal chandelier. Macabre decorations of skeletons and bats hung from the walls, pumpkins were found in each corner.

It was a party you couldn’t just attend without an invitation. And a costume. Those who weren’t dressed for the occasion were bluntly sent home. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your own pirate costume. It was an ode to days long past, with loving attention paid to every detail, ensuring authenticity and capturing the spirit of a swashbuckling adventurer. From your tricorn hat adorned with golden trimmings to the billowing white shirt peeking out from underneath a deep red waistcoat, it was clear that no expense had been spared in the making of the ensemble. Your black pants hugged your hips, tucked into tall leather boots that comfortably encased your feet, perfect for dancing. Or dueling.

"Ahoy, matey!" a friend called out to you, raising their plastic lightsaber in salute. You grinned and returned the gesture, allowing yourself to be swept up in the lively atmosphere.

A fellow pirate approached you, clearly impressed by your attire. "You've really outdone yourself this time," they said admiringly, eyeing the gleaming cutlass hanging at your side.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and genuine appreciation. "I wanted to make sure it was as authentic as possible."

As you exchanged pleasantries with other party-goers, you couldn't help but feel a certain thrill – a sense that tonight would be one to remember.

You danced a bit with your friends and laughed a lot. But after a while, you felt your mouth turn dry and looked around for the tables with food and drinks on them. Of course, the drink you had set your eyes on was gone. An empty spot glaring at you. There was more in the kitchen, one of the waitresses told you, and so you decided to venture into the kitchen for a drink.

You made your way through the crowd, which was quite the challenge, to find yourself in front of a closed door that should lead to the kitchen. Here you had seen the waiters pass through all evening with fresh snacks and drinks.

But the wooden door was closed.

Weird, you thought. The door wasn’t very big either, smaller than you had thought it had been. Hadn’t there been double doors here? You must have remembered it incorrectly.

Pushing it open with a sense of adventure, you stepped into an opulent chamber that seemed worlds away from the raucous celebrations outside.

"Wow," you breathed, your voice barely audible as you took in the lavish surroundings. The walls were draped in rich tapestries depicting exotic lands and mythical creatures, while the floor was adorned with plush velvet cushions and ornate rugs. An enormous chandelier cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating a magnificent table laden with delectable treats and goblets of sparkling wine.

"Where in the world am I?" you wondered aloud, feeling as if you had somehow been transported to a realm of enchantment and luxury.

As you wandered deeper into the room, your fingers trailing over the smooth marble of a nearby statue, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something strangely familiar about this place, as if you had stumbled upon a forgotten corner of your own imagination.

A large map spread across one of the walls. Curious, you approached it.

Only to realize that this wasn’t a world map. Not the one you were used to, anyway.

There was no Africa, no United States, no Europe. This was no ordinary map. Perhaps something of a fandom, you mused. Perhaps this was part of a storybook or a movie? It depicted a world unlike any you had ever seen before, a place where mermaids swam in crystal clear lagoons and pirates' coves lay hidden among rocky shores.

Absentmindedly, you traced your finger along the coastline of the fantastical island full of detail, more than you would have expected from a fantasy map. The word "Neverland" was emblazoned across the parchment in bold, swirling letters, and your heart skipped a beat as childhood memories of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys came flooding back to you.

"Neverland," you giggled softly, shaking your head. Of course, you knew about that fictional world.

"Ah, so you have heard of our little slice of paradise, haven’t you?" A husky, low voice came from behind you, catching you by surprise. The huskiness sent shivers down your spine. There was something raw about that voice, something that made a warmth spark in the pit of your stomach. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with none other than a man dressed as Captain Hook himself. He didn’t seem familiar, not anyone you’d ever met before. But he looked amazingly in character.

His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul, while his long black hair fell in seductive ringlets around his chiseled, stubble-lined jaw. He was dressed in the finest velvet, his tall hat adorned with soft white feathers that quivered with every movement. A silver hook gleamed menacingly from the stump of his right hand, a testament to both his ruthlessness and cunning.

"Captain Hook," you breathed, entranced by the vision before you. It was as if the infamous pirate captain had leaped straight from the pages of your favorite childhood storybook, brought to life in all his dark and twisted glory. This man’s costume was superb.

"Indeed," he replied with a wicked grin, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "So you have heard of me?” A pleased hum escaped his lips. “No wonder, since you are here.” He clicked his tongue, brushing the tip past his lips in a pensive gesture while he studied you for a moment.

“And who might you be, my dear? I don’t remember having seen you on my ship before."

You laughed, thinking the man made a funny in-character remark. The room did look like a luxurious cabin on a ship, you thought. And the man himself, he looked astonishingly like the real deal. Or well, like how you had imagined the captain would look like if he had been real. A perfect Halloween outfit, you thought.

“A fellow pirate?” He asked.

"Something like that," you replied coyly, your pulse quickening as his intense gaze roamed over your pirate costume. There was something undeniably alluring about this man.

"Your ensemble is quite remarkable," Hook complimented, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. "One of the finest I've seen in some time."

"Thank you, Captain," you replied with a playful curtsy, enjoying the way his eyes remained fixed on you with a subtle undercurrent of attraction. "I do my best."

"Clearly," he murmured, stepping closer until the scent of leather and sea salt filled your nostrils. His presence was intoxicating, filling you with a heady mixture of excitement and danger, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. "Now tell me, lass—where exactly do you hail from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you teased, meeting his intense stare with a mischievous glint in your eye. The game had begun, and you were more than eager to play along.

"Indeed, I would," Hook replied, his tone growing rougher as he sensed your willingness to engage in this dance of wits. "Perhaps I could persuade you to share your secrets, hm?"

"Perhaps," you mused, your heart pounding in your chest at his nearness. "But I think I'd rather keep you guessing for now."

For a moment, the man’s features darkened. As if he was frustrated by your response. Then his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Very well," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But remember, a captain always needs to stay informed. About anything,” here he paused and his blue eyes slid down your frame once more, “and everything,” he then added.

"Of course," you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. Was he implying what you thought he was? Surely not. But then again, his eyes roamed your body and had darkened.

And then, before you could think about it any further, his left hand brushed past yours, and fingers tangled with yours, pulling you along gently but firmly. You followed, trying not to stumble at the sudden movement.

The tension in the air was palpable as Captain Hook led you away from the strange map and into a dimly lit, quiet nook. The atmosphere seemed to shift. You felt your breath hitch as Hook pressed you against the wall, his body effectively trapping yours.

“And right now,” the man whispered in your ear, breath tickling your skin, “I have stumbled upon a stranger dressed in such fine clothes, it makes me suspicious. Can she be a spy?”

Your eyes grew wide, feeling how you were still trapped between his upper body and the wall. The slight pressure was enough to keep you in place and at the same time, the friction created was making your nipples peak. “No, not a spy,” you quickly said, frowning. “I was looking for the kitchen. I never intended to end up…” Here you hesitated and tried to look around the man. Was this an expensive-looking office? Where exactly had you ended up?

"Be a mysterious, lass," he murmured, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His gaze roamed over your outfit once more, this time lingering on the intricate details that made your pirate attire so authentic. "I must admit, I find myself quite taken with you."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. As Hook's hand began to explore your body, tracing the curves and edges of your clothing, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the contrast between his warm fingers and the cool metal of his hook sent an electric current through your veins.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your ear. "If I were to take off these fine garments of yours, would I find you just as enchanting beneath them?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Was this man serious? Then again, why didn’t you even try so much as to stop him? How come you enjoyed this? He was a stranger!

Hook had always been a figure of mystery and danger in your mind, but never before had you imagined yourself in such an intimate situation with him. And yet, here you were.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you managed to tease, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a risky game you were playing, but one you couldn't resist.

"Indeed, I would," he growled, his grip tightening on your waist. The pressure of his fingers and the sharp edge of his hook served as a reminder of his dominant nature, and you couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what he might do next.

"Perhaps," you continued, your heart racing in your chest. "But you'll have to earn that privilege, Captain."

Hook's eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you'd successfully stoked the flames of his curiosity. Whether that was a wise decision or not, only time would tell. But for now, you were both caught up in the dangerous dance of attraction, unable to break away from the magnetic pull that kept drawing you closer together.

"Very well," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Tell me a story.”

His request surprised you, his voice low and inviting. A story? About what?

"Alright," you agreed, laughing softly. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a girl who found herself at a Halloween party, dressed as a pirate..."

You began to spin a tale that danced between fantasy and reality, weaving together your own experiences with elements from stories you'd grown up with. As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how intensely Hook was listening to you. His gaze never wavered, and you felt as if he was seeing straight through to your soul.

Feeling bolder, you reached out and let your fingers trace the intricate embroidery of his velvet coat, finding it surprisingly soft beneath your touch. Not the fancy dress material, you noted, but the expensive real deal. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, gauging his reaction. He didn't pull away, instead, his lips curled into a slight smile, encouraging you to continue.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the party in the distance.

Emboldened by his response, you allowed your hands to wander further, exploring the taut muscles beneath his clothing. The contours of his body sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself both fascinated and excited by what you discovered. The dangerous undertone to your actions only served to heighten the thrill, making your pulse race wildly in your chest. Whoever this stranger was, he was well-built, making your core pulse hot and wet. You knew you should stop before things got too far, but why stop now when feeling him up was bringing you such pleasure? You deserved a little bit of fun every now and then, didn’t you? And this man was fun. At the very least, he was exactly the type of man you had dreamed of. And he wanted to be touched by you. How often have you had a chance like this?

Hook's breathing grew heavier as your fingertips grazed over his chest, the feeling of desire clearly mutual. His striking blue eyes darkened with lust, locked onto yours as if daring you to push the boundaries even further.

"Interesting," he commented, his voice husky and thick with unspoken need. "But how does your story end?"

"Perhaps it doesn't have to end just yet," you suggested, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were playing with fire, but you couldn’t resist. A tad longer, you thought, just a bit more. Enjoy it as long as it lasts…

You felt your fingers trail down the curve of his shoulder, every inch of him a testament to power and danger. The tension in the air thickened as you brushed against the fabric encasing his arm, your mind racing with the excitement of the unknown. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he could feel it too.

"Careful," Hook warned, his voice low and almost playful. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

"Isn't that true for everyone?" you replied, curiosity guiding your hand further down his arm. When your fingertips grazed over something cold and metallic, you hesitated, your pulse quickening.

"Ah, you've found my little secret," he murmured, his eyes darkening as they held your gaze. "Would you like a closer look?"

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the gleam of metal. As he slowly raised his arm, you realized with a start that what you had felt was not a mere ornament or accessory. It was his hook, glistening silver and wickedly sharp.

It was real.

And its presence sent shivers down your spine. Because this was more than just a fancy dress item. This was more than a costume. The hook was attached with expensive-looking leather straps. Too glorious to have been crafted for a Halloween feast. Perhaps he had played the part somewhere else, you wondered. But an eerie feeling settled in the pit of your stomach that there was only one explanation for why this hook looked so real and so sharp.

This man truly had no hand.

And this hook was truly a replacement for it, sturdy and made to last all the wear and tear of ordinary day life.

"Your... your hook..." you stammered, your wide eyes shifting between the deadly weapon and his piercing blue gaze. "It's real."

Hook grinned, a sinister edge to his smile that made your heart race even faster. "Of course, darling," he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I am Captain Hook, after all."

In that instant, the line between fantasy and reality blurred. You were struck by the powerful realization that this man, this pirate, might be more than a man in a costume. He was alive, dangerous, and undeniably captivating.

“You seem surprised,” he murmured, “You weren’t a moment ago. What changed?”

Unable to find words, you stared at him, lips parting and closing like a fish.

"Does it frighten you?" Hook asked, his voice laced with a dark and seductive undertone that made it impossible to look away while he twisted and turned the hook in front of your face. You had no other choice but to watch the cold metal up close, see the sharp tip glisten in the light of the lamps.

You hesitated, but then your eyes met his hypnotic blue ones. A strange sense of resolve washed over you.

"Maybe," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... I think I like it."

Hook's grin widened, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flash of genuine admiration in his eyes. "Well then," he said softly, as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his breath warm against your ear. Obediently, you allowed your eyelids to flutter shut, surrendering yourself to him completely.

And then, suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, soft and insistent, claiming you as his own. The kiss was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, a dizzying blend of passion and tenderness that left you breathless and aching for more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste of him.

As the two of you kissed, warmth spread through you, making your skin tingle. This man was a good kisser, you thought. Too good to be true. Your knees turned to jelly and you were grateful to be wearing such sturdy boots or you might have melted into a puddle.

When at last you broke apart, your chest heaving with the effort of catching your breath, you opened your eyes to find Hook smirking down at you, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"I think I know the ending to your tale,” he whispered, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. "And they lived happily ever after,” a soft whisper that sent goosebumps down your skin.

Then he started to laugh, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you in close. Then he cut off his own laughter by pressing his lips against yours once more in a demanding and sensual kiss that made you see stars.

“I suppose you are mine now,” the captain mumbled once the kiss was broken. “After all, you are on my ship. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

You wanted to laugh, wanted to say how silly that idea was, even though you felt flattered that he wanted to keep you. But then the wooden door through which you had come opened and a new man appeared. A sailor. Mr. Smee. He looked shocked, probably just as shocked as you. Because behind the sailor you didn’t see the ballroom you had left only minutes ago. Instead, you saw and heard the sloshing sea. Rambunctious pirates walked the deck. Seagulls flew overhead. And the very real and very cool metal hook was now near your throat, lovingly bringing you in for another kiss, when you realized, this was no mere man dressed in a costume to attend a party.

This Captain Hook was real.

~*~

AN: Out of 10, how screwed are you? Or… how much will you screw? . . . if you want to show me some support, why not buy me a virtual drink and help me buy new glasses in real life :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#captain james hook x reader #james hook fanfiction #captain hook x reader #captain hook x you #Halloween requests #halloween drabbles #Halloween party

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