#rather than spend his life chasing a daydream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gimmethatagustd · 3 months

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venor (7) | 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: 5,802

○ Warnings: Reference to past parental death, chase scene (you'll know when you get to it), what the gworlies call self-lubrication aka slick

○ Notes: Somewhat of a content warning (?), a character in this chapter makes a joke about Taehyung (allegedly) having male tiger anatomy, which, if you know anything about tigers, is... odd, to put it nicely 😅 So just be prepared for that LOL. I remember the first time I read a tiger hybrid Taehyung fic with *whispers* barbed penises. Does anyone ever forget their first time with something like that?? For those of you who are not into that, don't worry. Venor Taehyung has a very normal dick. I'm just a clown.

○ Post Date: March 12, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

Taehyung’s sweatpants are massive on Jungkook. Black and loose, they’re a different style than the tight, tapered fit that Jungkook is accustomed to wearing. He has to roll the pants a few times at the waistband so they aren’t as baggy on his legs and fit his hips a little tighter.

Embarrassment colors Jungkook’s cheeks; he swears he’s been blushing ever since Taehyung kissed him. Touching his hot skin with cool fingertips, he checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror, leaning over the edge of the sink counter to get a better look at himself. The bathroom is much cleaner than he expected, with a clear counter and unblemished mirror. Perhaps it’s wrong for him to make assumptions about a predator’s dormitory based on what he has heard from other people. Proud of his open-mindedness, Jungkook often becomes disappointed in himself when he has such thoughts. Luckily, spending time with Taehyung has helped Jungkook understand more.

As Yoongi said, Jungkook still has much to learn, but he isn’t afraid of that process like many other prey seem to be.

Taking a deep breath to calm his thunderous heart, Jungkook grabs his dirty skinny jeans from where he neatly folded them on the closed toilet lid. The slick-stained parts are folded inward so he can avoid touching the damp fabric and furthering his embarrassment. Considering he had to sit on Taehyung’s jacket during the car ride home makes it even worse, so Jungkook tries shoving that thought deep in his brain. He can fret over that later at night while trying to fall asleep — a problem for Future Jungkook.

Not to mention how his scent had clouded the car so severely that Taehyung had to lower the windows.

“You okay, bun?”

Taehyung’s voice breaks Jungkook from his spiraling thoughts. He gives himself one last look in the mirror before slowly turning the doorknob and slipping out of the bathroom with light steps.

Predator dorms are comparable to prey dorms. They’re also in apartment style, though each roommate has a private bedroom, rather than sharing like Jungkook and Yoongi do. It seems rather unfair, even though Taehyung claims the reason is because predators are too big to share such small rooms.

Jungkook thinks having his own space would be nice, particularly during the embarrassing parts of adult life… heats. Yoongi and Jungkook have yet to have one this year, and neither have been brave enough to have a conversation about what will happen once they do.

Another problem for Future Jungkook.

Taehyung has his backpack slung over his shoulder, and Jungkook’s in his hand, where Jungkook finds him standing in the hallway. He has also changed, now wearing sweatpants identical to Jungkook’s. With fluffy hair and such casual clothes, Taehyung looks unbelievably domestic and soft — so different than how he usually appears. It makes Jungkook feel even warmer in the face.

“Hi,” Jungkook greets, taking his backpack from Taehyung. “Thank you for letting me borrow these.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Short and to the point, Taehyung punctuates his statement with a lopsided grin before gesturing for Jungkook to follow him to his bedroom. It may be pathetic how easily Taehyung affects Jungkook, even without speaking much at all, but at this point, Jungkook has accepted it.

He’s in over his head, and he doesn’t care.

“You can take the desk or the bed,” Taehyung offers as he gets comfortable in his bed with his backpack at his side.

His bed is relatively large, so it’s pushed up against the wall in one corner of the bedroom to make space for the rest of his furniture.

Being in Taehyung’s bedroom is a strange feeling. After seeing Taehyung as a mystery for so much of the semester, Jungkook is now gaining insider knowledge about Taehyung’s life, making him more enamored with the tiger hybrid.

"Y'know, you're not supposed to do homework in your bed. It can mess with your sleep cycle," Jungkook points out, but still gets settled next to Taehyung on the bed. They sit facing each other, Taehyung at the top of the bed and Jungkook at the bottom.

"And yet here you are." Taehyung smirks and takes out his laptop.

"Leave me alone."

Taehyung does just that, turning his focus to the assignment they're working on.

Despite Jungkook’s nervousness at the art museum, he sits cross-legged on Taehyung’s bed without his stomach twisting into knots. Instead, he feels comforted, surrounded by Taehyung’s scent and the quiet lofi playlist shuffling through the Bluetooth speaker on the dresser.

It helps that Taehyung’s bedroom has a relaxing aura. The room is dotted with plants, some in large pots on the floor in the corners that aren’t occupied by beige and forest green furniture, others in tiny pots decorating his dresser and the small desk against the wall opposite his bed. The walls are painted a soft, mossy green — something Jungkook didn’t realize students were allowed to do in their dormitories. There may be a stereotype in the thought, but Jungkook can’t help thinking that Taehyung’s room is like a mini forest.

“I really like how you decorate your room,” Jungkook compliments Taehyung with a small smile.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Taehyung doesn’t look up from his laptop, but his cheeks turn a dusty pink.

Taehyung’s reaction makes Jungkook’s smile grow. He loves how shy Taehyung gets when complimented, almost as though he can’t handle a taste of his own medicine, though Jungkook is nowhere near as sauve as Taehyung is.

“My, uh, my eomma used to love plants,” Taehyung says softly. “She worked at a greenhouse and would always bring home seeds for me to plant in our garden at home.”

Taehyung’s response comes after a few minutes of silence, almost long enough for Jungkook to have forgotten what they were talking about. His curly bangs fall into his eyes, and his head is bent, so Jungkook doesn’t have a clear view of his face, but he notices Taehyung’s use of past tense when referring to his mother.

“Did you get any of these from her?”

When he looks up, Taehyung’s face is stoic. He points to a small but tall, leafy plant in a pot on the windowsill beside the bed. The pot is simple terracotta and sits on a matching plate to capture water leakage.

“It’s a geranium. They’re perennial flowers, so they last forever, really, if you care for them properly. I’ve had that one for four years.”

Taehyung’s ears perk up, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at the plant with what Jungkook realizes is affection. Coupling that with the excitable flick of Taehyung’s tail, Jungkook isn’t sure if his heart can handle all of it.

“What color is it when it blooms?”

“It starts kind of white? But when it fully blooms, it’s a light pink. It has all these little clusters…” Taehyung trails off and clears his throat, ducking his head again when he catches Jungkook staring at him.

Deciding to let the topic end organically, Jungkook doesn’t press Taehyung any further. He feels all warm and fuzzy inside, appreciative of Taehyung sharing what seems like personal information about himself he must not talk about with many other people.

For a while, they work in silence. They’re required to research and write an analysis of a piece of artwork from the museum and end the semester with a presentation that they give to the rest of the class. Since Jungkook and Taehyung have picked the same artwork — a bust of Nefertiti — they decide to pair up for the presentation.

It’s logical to work together. It doesn’t mean anything. Right?

Jungkook doesn’t think it does. They’ve spent nearly two hours at Taehyung’s dorm, and not once has Taehyung done anything to imply that he’s interested in Jungkook, despite what happened at the museum. Jungkook isn’t sure if he should feel relieved or rejected. He also has minimal experience with this kind of stuff, so he’s not sure what’s supposed to happen anyway.

Despite their studious focus, it doesn’t take Jungkook long to interrupt Taehyung’s work again.

“Do you think predators and prey should be separated all the time?” Jungkook asks, pausing his work on the document he has pulled up on his laptop. He watches Taehyung do the same when he sets his laptop on the bed beside him.

“Kind of?” Taehyung responds after a few moments of silence, eyebrows furrowed in thought like they had been at the art museum. “Why?”

“I think it’s dumb. What’s so different about me and you?” Jungkook gestures to Taehyung and then himself with a wave of his hand. “We’re all the same, really.”

“Are we?” Taehyung asks with an amused smirk. He leans his shoulder against the wall and keeps his feline eyes locked on Jungkook’s face.

“Yes…” The way Taehyung asks makes Jungkook feel like he’s somehow wrong.

“I think there are a lot of differences between me and you.”

“Well, of course, there are some differences…” Jungkook trails off when Taehyung ghosts his fingers along the curve of his knee. The touch trails goosebumps along his skin despite the barrier of fabric the sweatpants provide.

“Prey are open books, Jungkook,” Taehyung says with his feline eyes still on Jungkook. “Predators keep things hidden, and that’s why we have to be separate in school, until we learn how to stay hidden.”

Jungkook frowns. It’s an ominous response, too vague for Jungkook to understand. A part of him wants to tell Taehyung that he’s the first predator Jungkook has ever met, but he’s afraid of what Taehyung might think. Before, it didn’t seem important, but now…

There’s something new about the atmosphere in the bedroom that puts Jungkook on edge. It feels too hot, like Taehyung’s body heat is flooding the room. His skin prickles with goosebumps along his sides where his cropped sweater doesn’t reach the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s akin to a fever that sweeps over one’s body like a thunderstorm.

Suddenly astutely aware of his own body, Jungkook’s breathing quickens, coming out as shallow breaths that make his chest flutter. Each burst of breath leaves him feeling dizzier than the last.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook asks, “What does that even mean? What’s hidden?”

“Urges,” Taehyung murmurs, his tone lower than it had been. When Taehyung blinks, a shiver crawls down Jungkook’s spine, and his feverish skin grows cold.

Taehyung’s pupils are dilated.

Run.

The command echoes from deep inside Jungkook’s brain. He holds his breath, gulping it down as he watches Taehyung’s pink tongue glide across his canines.

Releasing the fluffy blanket comforter he’s sitting on from cramped fingers, Jungkook wipes his clammy hands on the blanket. He slams his laptop shut and scrambles off the bed right before Taehyung grabs him.

His heart pounds in his chest as he makes a break for the bedroom door on shaky legs. When he flings the door open, he nearly slips.

“Come back, little bunny,” Taehyung calls out as Jungkook sprints down the hallway, the dark tone of his voice cut with an amused edge.

Taehyung doesn’t bother running; he doesn’t need to. He’s already fast with a wide gait, covering more ground with long legs than Jungkook can.

The dorm doesn’t have anywhere for Jungkook to hide. Everywhere he turns is a dead end. At first, he considers the kitchen, but it’s large and fairly empty, with only the kitchen table and chairs to hide beneath. Making a last-minute decision, he bolts for the living room, skidding around the corner as his socks slide on the wood flooring.

“Jungkook, come back,” Taehyung says in a singsong voice that makes the hair on the back of Jungkook’s neck stand up.

Jungkook’s bright eyes scan the living room, bouncing back and forth to find somewhere to go. Sweat beads along his hairline, and his body feels warm and soupy, even with the adrenaline pumping through him. Part of him wants to run, but there’s another, scarier part that wants to submit to the predator stalking him in the hall.

Taehyung is playing. Even though Jungkook knows little about predators, he knows Taehyung is playing with him. If Taehyung were serious, he would have snatched Jungkook already. Still, it feels real. Perhaps it’s because neither of them are thinking with their human brains.

Climbing over the couch to hide behind it, Jungkook crouches just as Taehyung pokes his head in the living room.

“I know you’re in here, bun,” Taehyung murmurs. Jungkook hears him inhale deeply through his nose with a pleased rumble in his chest.

Jungkook almost wants to say something, to expose himself. Jungkook knows he shouldn’t, though he doesn’t know why or how he knows that. The adrenaline rush and heightened senses flooding his system wipe away any rational thought, until the only thing Jungkook can think about is Taehyung.

The wood floor creaks as Taehyung walks through the living room. He's close enough that Jungkook can smell him. His scent is different, though. It’s richer, earthier, more primal. Breathing it in makes Jungkook’s mouth dry, and, to his horror, he feels slick trickle between his cheeks.

He claps his hand over his mouth to keep quiet as he hears Taehyung’s steps get closer. Still, he screams when Taehyung hops over the back of the couch and lands on his feet beside where he crouches.

“Taehyung!” Jungkook squeals when Taehyung wraps his arms around his waist and throws him onto the couch, his body bouncing slightly on the springy cushions.

Jungkook’s high squeal ends in a fit of panicked giggles when Taehyung looms over him.

“Do you get it now, Jungkook?” Taehyung asks with a voice so deep that Jungkook swears he feels it rumble in his own chest.

Taehyung’s eyes are still wild, pupils blown out, as he kneels on the couch. He keeps one knee between Jungkook’s spread legs and leans forward with his hands on either side of Jungkook’s head, just above his shoulders. Taehyung’s ears lie flat, getting lost in his coppery curls, and his tail swishes behind him.

“Yes,” Jungkook whispers. It’s more of a question than a confirmation.

“I could devour you.”

Taehyung speaks against the soft hollow of Jungkook’s neck, the light touch of his soft lips making Jungkook sigh. He pulls at the collar of Jungkook’s sweater with his teeth, lightly grazing the skin beneath.

“Taehyung…”

Jungkook quickly forgets what he is going to say when he feels the tip of Taehyung’s tongue flick against the scent gland on his neck. Too reminiscent of a mating bite, Jungkook instinctually grabs Taehyung’s head, his fingers slipping into Taehyung’s curls and brushing against his fuzzy ears. The action draws a low rumble from Taehyung that Jungkook recognizes as a purr.

The sound of the front door unlocking and swinging open makes Jungkook jolt. He tightens his grip on Taehyung’s hair and tries pushing him away when he hears footsteps coming down the hall.

“What the fuck!” A vaguely familiar voice shrieks, finally breaking Taehyung out of whatever trance he’d been in.

Blinking a few times as he sits up on the couch, Taehyung’s pupils slowly constrict until they return to their normal size. He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and turns to look at Hoseok, who stands in the living room doorway.

“Hi,” Taehyung growls. Clearing his throat, he tries greeting his roommate again, “Hi, Hobi hyung.”

The snake hybrid looks past Taehyung to stare at Jungkook. Jungkook’s face is on fire, not only because he has been caught in a rather compromising position with Taehyung but also because he’s wet and hard.

“Taehyung,” Hoseok whines with a defeated slump of his shoulders, “How many times do I have to tell you not to fuck people in the living room! I hate it! I hate walking in on you! It’s never not going to be awkward; I don’t care how many years we live together!”

Jungkook scowls without meaning to. It's a tiny scrunch of his face born out of the mention that Taehyung has had sex with people on that couch. He thinks Taehyung notices his sour look out of the corner of his eye or perhaps the sour note to his scent, but he doesn't say anything.

With an irritated grumble, Taehyung grabs one of the small decorative pillows on the couch and chucks it at Hoseok.

“We’re not fucking!”

Hoseok’s tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, and Jungkook realizes it’s forked at the tip.

“It smells like you are!”

“Well, we’re not.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung hauls himself off the couch. He offers Jungkook his hand, and Jungkook accepts it eagerly, needing all the help he can get to stand.

The fear of getting caught and the annoyance at Taehyung's sex life washed over Jungkook like an ice bath, cooling his body down until he’s only half hard, his arousal not noticeable through his sweatpants but still apparent in his scent. After today, Jungkook isn’t sure if he ever wants to step foot outside his dorm ever again.

“Um, hi,” Jungkook says quietly with a small wave in Hoseok’s direction.

Despite his annoyance with Taehyung, Hoseok beams when he realizes Jungkook is the poor person who had been beneath Taehyung.

“Jungkook-ah! It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to properly greet you and prevent Taehyung from jumping you,” Hoseok glares at Taehyung, who refuses to look anywhere but at the floor. “Our first prey guest in our apartment, and he’s attacked by a wild animal. Lovely.”

Hoseok throws his hands up and turns on his heel, dropping his backpack in the hall as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Are you all hungry? We’ve got beer, and I kind of want to order pizza,” Hoseok shouts from the kitchen.

Finally looking up, Taehyung gives Jungkook a small smile.

“Sorry, bun, I…” Taehyung rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t look Jungkook in the eyes. He clears his throat again, still unable to shake the roughness of his tone, and seems to go in a different direction with his thoughts. “Do you need new pants again?”

Mortified, Jungkook covers his face with his hands and slowly nods.

Even after Taehyung has gotten him yet another pair of sweatpants, Jungkook can barely keep his embarrassment inside. He doesn't understand what came over him - or Taehyung, for that matter. They'd both acted so strangely, so animalistic. It's equal parts terrifying and exciting. There’s not much in life that Jungkook feels he can say in absolutes, but he knows for a fact that he’s not going to survive Kim Taehyung.

Jungkook quickly realizes that having Hoseok around cuts down on the strange, heavy tension between Jungkook and Taehyung. He serves as a social buffer, it being impossible to feel anything but excitable joy around a man who blooms like a sunflower in summer. He follows through with ordering them pizza, insisting that, as their guest, Jungkook doesn’t need to pay. Even when Jungkook accidentally lets slip an enthusiastic little wiggle when the food arrives, Hoseok doesn’t bat an eye.

The three of them crowd together on the couch with a massive pizza box open on the coffee table in front of them and an anime Jungkook has never watched playing on the TV. A few empty beer bottles surround the box, most belonging to Hoseok and Taehyung. Beer always seemed like such a predator drink that Jungkook never acquired a taste for it.

Jungkook is pleased to learn that Hoseok isn’t as scary as he initially assumed he would be as a snake hybrid. At one point, he even lets Jungkook touch his scales.

“Honestly, I don’t have much feeling in my scales,” Hoseok explains as he offers Jungkook his arm. “I guess if you, like, stabbed me, I would feel it. It would be hard, though. They’re tough.”

White scales creep around Hoseok’s wrist and travel up his arm in small patches, circling his elbow and dotting a path to his shoulder that disappears beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. Jungkook touches the scales gently with two fingers even though Hoseok insists that nothing Jungkook does will be uncomfortable. They’re much smoother than Jungkook expected, reflecting the colorful scenes flashing across the TV screen.

“They’re cool,” Jungkook says with a smile.

Taehyung shifts in his seat, twisting to rest his elbow on the arm of the couch and his chin in his hand. He sighs loudly as he does it, which makes Jungkook side-eye him, but Hoseok doesn’t pay him any mind.

“Thank you!” A friendly grin follows everything Hoseok says.

“Really cool, actually. I wish I had something more fun about myself.”

“You do!” Hoseok gently hits Jungkook’s arm to scold him. “Your ears are so fun!”

Jungkook gives Hoseok a skeptical look that he also ignores.

“Can you lift them up? Like straight in the air?” Hoseok asks as he reaches out to touch one of Jungkook’s ears.

Before Hoseok’s fingers brush against the tip of Jungkook's ear, Taehyung grips Jungkook's thigh. It’s a rough squeeze that makes Jungkook’s entire body tingle. When Jungkook and Hoseok give Taehyung incredulous looks, he makes a sound almost like a whine in the back of his throat. He tries to mask it with a cough, but Hoseok is already on his case.

“Aish, I’ll fuck off if you’re going to be annoying, Tae,” Hosek grumbles. He abandons his mission to feel Jungkook’s silky ears and reaches for another slice of pizza instead.

“It’s fine,” Taehyung sounds strained as he speaks. “We’re good.”

Maybe Jungkook should feel offended or even concerned that Taehyung is behaving so possessively. Instead, it makes him feel a fuzzy sense of euphoria that turns his brain to soup. He’s so content that he finds himself too forthcoming with his affection, easily nestling against Taehyung’s side once he finishes his pizza.

“If my parents knew I was hanging out with two predators, they’d try to pull me out of school,” Jungkook muses.

“Really?” Hoseok asks between sips of the last beer. He’s bright pink in the face, and his previous energy seems depleted.

“Mhm, they are really… cautious with me.”

“Jungkook was sheltered,” Taehyung adds on unnecessarily, earning from Jungkook a playful elbow to the ribs.

Jungkook’s eyes are on the anime, but his mind is on Taehyung, who slowly slips his arm around his shoulder to pull him closer. The action takes forever, almost as if Taehyung doesn’t want anyone to notice what he’s doing. It’s cute how subtle he’s trying to be and how terrible he is at it.

“Did you come from a rural area?” Hoseok asks, humming when Jungkook affirms his suspicions. “Me too. People are way more open-minded in the city. Seoul hardly has any places that aren’t integrated. It’s nice, honestly. My best friend is a calico.”

Jungkook perks up; his bunny teeth are more noticeable when he parts his mouth in a tiny gasp.

“Really? Who is it? My roommate is a cat. Maybe they know each other.”

Taehyung laughs at his eagerness, but Jungkook doesn’t care. There’s a sense of desperation clawing at his chest to know that there are other predator-prey relationships that work out.

“Park Jimin. He’s in our year, studying fashion. To be honest, he doesn’t really like predators all that much, but doesn't mind Taehyung for some reason. He hangs out over here a lot, so maybe you can meet him! I mean, if you come back to visit…”

Hoseok’s eyes slit for a moment when he leans forward to look around Jungkook at Taehyung.

Taehyung refuses to look at either of them when he responds, “If Jungkook wants to.

“If you haven’t terrified him with your wild behavior,” Hoseok snaps, but his eyes crinkle with mischief. “Big cats are the worst, Jungkook-ah. Terribly territorial and grumpy as hell. Especially the males. They love being loners until it’s time to get their prickly dicks wet.”

“That’s a myth!” Taehyung launches forward to pinch Hoseok in the side. The snake hybrid doesn’t even flinch; he only sticks out his tongue and triumphantly announces that Taehyung got his scales instead of skin.

“What’s a myth?” Jungkook looks between Hoseok and Taehyung, one wearing a grin and the other a grimace.

“Tiger hybrids have barbed dicks.” Hoseok cackles as Taehyung reaches over Jungkook again to punch Hoseok wherever he can.

“They have what?” Jungkook gasps, drawing up his legs to press his knees to his chest as though in a protective manner.

“We do not!”

“Like fucking daggers, Jungkook-ah.”

“They’re not!”

“Slice and dice you like a cheese grater.”

In horror, Jungkook’s eyes drop to look at Taehyung’s crotch, and Hoseok laughs even harder.

“Hyung!” Taehyung whines, pulling back to cross his arms against his chest like a petulant child. “Bun, don’t listen to him. It’s a myth.”

Hoseok knocks his head back to drain the last of his beer, then stands up and begins gathering the other empty bottles and dishes. He seems trustworthy, but Jungkook doesn’t know what to make of the conversation. Prey-only schools never teach predator anatomy. Prey are supposed to mate with other prey, not predators. There was no reason to know anything other than what rabbits are like.

“All I’m saying is,” Hoseok adjusts his grip to hold the rest of the bottles, “as one of Taehyung’s best friends, I find it suspicious that I’ve never seen his dick before.”

“Hyung! Fuck off!”

With a final hiss of laughter, Hoseok disappears into the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

Jungkook twists in his seat to stare at Taehyung once Hoseok is gone, and he's enamored by the flustered look that greets him.

“A cheese grater?” Jungkook asks with a grin that he tries to bite back, teeth pressing into his bottom lip.

Taehyung groans and throws his head back against the couch.

“It’s a myth, bun. I swear to god.”

Jungkook’s heart beats in the middle of his throat, anticipating what he’s about to say next. It’s carefully calculated, even if it’s a bad idea. The prospect of it being a bad idea makes what he says even more exciting.

“I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and his lips part, but he doesn’t speak. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say; maybe he knows what he wants to say, but Jungkook has left him speechless. His sharp eyes go round as he watches Jungkook get up, growing almost comically wide when Jungkook bends down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I have to go now, bye!” Jungkook flings his backpack over his shoulder and scurries out of the living room, with Taehyung scrambling to get up behind him.

“Bun, wait!”

Ignoring Taehyung’s calls, Jungkook quickly ducks his head in the kitchen to wish Hoseok a good night.

“See you later, Hoseok-ssi!”

Busy washing dishes, Hoseok wiggles his butt in a goodbye. “Call me hyung, Jungkook-ah. We’re animals here, fuck respectability politics.”

Whatever else Hoseok has to say is lost to Jungkook as he rushes through the front door before Taehyung can catch up. It took everything in Jungkook’s power to summon the courage to flirt so brazenly with Taehyung, to be so inappropriate, and he doesn’t think he can face Taehyung after saying something like that. Making a quick escape is his only option if he wants to survive!

Jungkook is almost in the clear, nearly shutting the front door when a hand grabs the edge of the door before he can pull it all the way closed. He lets go of the doorknob while Taehyung’s other hand finds the nape of Jungkook’s neck.

The kiss Taehyung pulls Jungkook into is sweeter than he expects, almost delicate in how Taehyung’s lips glide against his. They keep their distance, each on opposite sides of the threshold, only their lips and Taehyung’s hand connecting them.

Taehyung sighs as he pulls away, and Jungkook responds with a sound just as soft despite the dangerous flip of his stomach.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Taehyung asks, letting his arm fall to his side.

Of course, Jungkook wants him to, but Taehyung shouldn’t. It would be bad enough to have a predator on the prey side of campus, adding that night as finally set, Jungkook wouldn’t want to get Taehyung into even more trouble if he were to get caught where he isn’t supposed to be.

“I’ll be okay,” Jungkook insists. “I know how to kickbox.”

With a roll of his eyes and a smile he can’t contain, Taehyung leans against the doorframe and nods toward the elevator.

“Get outta here before someone eats you,” Taehyung murmurs. Somehow, Jungkook knows this is his way of wishing him a good night.

“I had a lot of fun hanging out with you, Tae.” Jungkook tests out the nickname and grins when Taehyung’s tail flicks as it does when he’s pleased, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“Go on,” Taehyung swats Jungkook on the butt once he turns around, making Jungkook jolt forward.

If Taehyung’s cheeks are bright pink by the time he closes the front door, it’s good that Jungkook knows how to keep a secret.

vante95

did you make it ok?

jkookie

Yup!

The real threat to my life was Yoongi hyung

He was mad that I forgot to text him while I was at your dorm

vante95

he probably thought i snatched you up

jkookie

You kind of did...

vante95

anyway

lmk when you finish your part of the presentation

i'm almost done with mine

jkookie

Oh so we aren't going to talk about it??

vante95

the presentation?

jkookie

🫠

vante95

😘

jkookie

Taehyung

vante95

go to sleep

it's past your bedtime

jkookie

Jungkook nearly drops his phone on his face when it vibrates and Taehyung’s contact photo appears on the screen with the notification that there’s an incoming video call. Panicking, Jungkook sits up in his bed and runs his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up and praying he doesn’t look like he’s been lying in bed for an hour, basking in the comforting smell of Taehyung that still blankets him.

Why does Taehyung have to video call him? It’s nearly two in the morning!

“Hi,” Jungkook greets once he accepts the call, nearly sounding out of breath. It’s understandable, considering Taehyung is also lying in bed, propped up against the head of his bed, but shirtless.

The video stops at Taehyung’s collarbones, which is still enough to make Jungkook’s brain short-circuit. He can practically feel the gears grinding to a halt inside his head. There might as well be smoke coming out of his ears.

“Why are you so bossy?” Taehyung’s voice is crackly and thick, and his eyes droop like he’s been dozing off.

How are you so cute yet so hot? Jungkook wants to answer Taehyung’s question with one of his own, but he isn’t always so brave. Even if he was, he can’t seem to formulate words.

“Bun.”

“I’m,” Jungkook stops short when he drops his phone and fumbles as he tries to lift it to his face again. “I’m not bossy. I just don’t let people tell me what to do.”

Smiling lazily, Taehyung hums as he folds one arm behind his head.

“I like that about you.”

“W-What is wrong with you?” Jungkook blurts and immediately regrets his impulsiveness when Taehyung laughs.

“I don’t know. A lot of things, probably,” Taehyung shrugs, the lazy smile still there. “What’s wrong with you?”

Jungkook supposes there are a lot of things wrong with him for pining after a predator. As Yoongi said, prey are hardwired to avoid predators. It’s part of their instincts that evolution has yet to weed out. Yet here is Jungkook, fawning over Taehyung without shame.

“You’re the first predator I’ve ever met,” Jungkook admits sheepishly.

He wonders if it’s the wrong thing to say because Taehyung is silent once the confession is out in the open. It hangs in the air between them despite their distance.

“For real?”

Jungkook nods.

“Wow.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh, though his laughter lacks the humor Taehyung’s had. He knows it’s weird to be in his early twenties and has had so few interactions with people different than him. Despite the shame that truth brings, it also makes Jungkook proud of himself for how hard he has pushed to break out of the sheltered environment his parents created for him.

“Well, are you impressed?”

Jungkook masks how flustered he feels by rolling his eyes and sinking further into his bed so Taehyung can’t see the bottom half of his face.

“I guess. I didn’t have very high expectations,” Jungkook huffs.

Taehyung’s grin widens, and his face softens into the boyish look Jungkook loves so much.

“You must be if you’re still wearing my clothes.”

Properly scandalized, Jungkook sits up and glares at Taehyung. It’s another ruse, a disguise of his feelings because he’s shocked by how overt Taehyung is being.

“So what if I am?” Jungkook challenges.

“Nothing. It’s cute,” Taehyung murmurs, “It kinda drives me crazy.”

“Does it?” Jungkook whispers.

His heart hammers in his chest as he watches Taehyung lick his lips, Taehyung's gaze weighing heavily on him despite it being through a screen. That gaze alone is enough to make Jungkook’s body tremble.

“Yeah,” Taehyung hums. “But that’s a conversation for later. It’s past your bedtime.”

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook tries to relax his body. He shouldn’t get so worked up over nothing. Taehyung isn’t really nothing, though, is he?

“I hope you sleep well, Tae.”

“You too, bun,” Taehyung says with a smile. “Oh, are you doing anything next weekend?”

“Nothing really.” On edge, Jungkook shakes his head and tries not to get his hopes up about whatever Taehyung is talking about.

“Cool. Don’t make any plans for Friday night.”

“Why not?”

Taehyung laughs softly, the sound nearly a low purr. Jungkook gets the sudden desire to curl up next to Taehyung and feel that purr with his head against Taehyung’s chest.

“Just don’t make plans, alright?” Taehyung insists. Despite how sleepy Taehyung is and the dim lighting of his bedroom, his phone camera still picks up the sparkle in his eyes. “Night, bun.”

“Night, Tae.”

The video call ends, but Jungkook’s heart continues racing in his chest as he replays the conversation in his head.

It kinda drives me crazy.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Jungkook buries his face in his pillow and tries to breathe in his own scent to calm himself down — only to realize that he has managed to make everything smell like Taehyung.

Maybe Taehyung kind of drives Jungkook crazy, too.

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). Request an AO3 account here.

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

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sweetestlittledarling · 2 months

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Nightmare Realms

So originally, I was going to write a story about a nightmare held by one of the songbirds, but nothing ever seemed to work out quite right (may rework them and post them one day). But I really just wanted to get something out for @vesuviaweekly's Nightmare/Daydream prompt, so I am shortening this into a head cannon post because I have thought a lot about this since I was trying to write it. So, each of the Songbird’s has their own nightmare space which was partially formed by the Devil and partially by their own insecurities and trauma (and some magic). They each visited these places in the main story line, but I imagine when things get back the nightmares creep back in. Here is what imagine each of the realms to be like and the nightmares that inhabit there. Sorry if this is a little depressing but know that each of the Songbird overcomes it in the end.

Lark:

Lark’s insecurities often lie in the sadness that he tries to hide as well as being left alone so his nightmare is devoid of color. The room is entirely black and anything or anyone that enters often is stripped of their color and happiness. The one interesting thing about the room is that the floor is reflective, and a person’s reflection will show their true sorrows. For example, there was a moment where Muriel entered and his reflection showed him in his fighting armor. For Lark his reflection shows him with the plague sad and angry. Sometimes the reflections speak to the person, telling them it’s hopeless and to just give up. Spending long periods in the room and one will feel like actually giving up, to remain there sad and alone forever.

Sparrow:

Sparrow’s nightmare centers around her feeling of not being enough and wanting people in her life to stay with her. The place actually has changed a bit from before the plague where the original room was simply a room filled with fog that one could get seriously lost in. Sparrow would chase the ghost of her father into the mist, begging him to stay, but then end up getting lost. After the plague and meeting Julian, the scene changed to the one where Julian chooses to remain in the Acana realm rather than returning to life and Sparrow. The outcome is the same as Sparrow tries to chase after him but ends up getting lost in the mist. Like lark’s room there is an overwhelming voice trying to convince Sparrow that people don’t stay and that she should just give up.

Robin:

Robin’s nightmare is hardest to describe as Robin’s insecurities revolve around his missing past and his feelings of failure that he doesn’t understand. His nightmare takes place in the Lazaret as that is the time where everything from his former life collapsed. There no one else there just Robin who is confronted by the past that he doesn’t completely understand and the voice of everyone saying that it is his fault. He couldn’t save his mother nor protect his siblings, he couldn’t save Asra from the pain of breaking the connection between them and when things got so terrible he actually ran away to another world abandoning his home. Robin faces the consequences of his own past actions though it is hard to accept since some he had forgotten.

So that’s what’s been rolling around in my brain as of late. I am a little sad I couldn’t get it my ideas into writing, but it’s been nice to actually think about it a bit. Plus, I managed to get something out for @vesuviaweekly which I have been trying to get something together for.

#vesuvia weekly #nightmare & daydreams #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana apprentice #the arcana mc

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creatorofuniverses · 4 months

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Day 10 – Shuffle

(Doing this a day late, whoops)

Today's prompt is to put my music on shuffle and write a quick scene based on the song! So here, have some giant!Sawyer.

Song: Daydreams – Walden

__________________________________

Sawyer wasn’t paying attention to the miles as they passed by. His feet, nearly as big as one of the cars driving down the highway, barely touched the ground before they pushed off again. His strides were long and loping, his gait gentle, an attempt to not shake the ground or crush the earth as he jogged along. Giants didn’t often move so fast; he was supposed to stay deep in the woods, where he wouldn’t be seen, wouldn’t be noticed. Not weaving through wilderness in the near-dark, an enormous shadow barely glimpsed as it passed but potentially glimpsed all the same.

But that didn’t matter. All that mattered, all that was on his mind, was Charlie.

His human friend was moving. This was the second time Sawyer had moved with Charlie, and the rhythm of his gait felt familiar, keeping pace with a car he kept track of out of the corner of his eye. The headlights sparked through the trees, flickering from the distant highway. The moon rose, low and large on Sawyer’s right, while on his left the sun set, a lambent glow against the distant horizon that shone like a halo. As the route began to climb into the highlands, however, Sawyer’s calves beginning to feel the altitude gain, the only light he was chasing were those distant headlights.

He didn’t have to do this. The thought sometimes nagged at the back of his mind, reminding him that giants like him weren’t supposed to go running after cars; weren’t supposed to be seen by humans, much less be friends with one.

It was far too late for that thought. Sawyer knew, deep down inside, that he couldn’t go back to that way of life. Couldn’t leave it all behind and go back into hiding. Couldn’t leave Charlie. Charlie meant everything to him. He was Sawyer’s only friend, the only one Sawyer could talk to, could hold.

And as Sawyer ran low and fast after Charlie’s car, weaving through pines with a grace few would expect of somebody his size, he let himself dream. Let himself imagine what it might be like, in this new place they were going. Charlie was starting college. From what he’d told Sawyer, that would mean he would have more time to spend with Sawyer after classes. Rather than only being able to see Sawyer on some weekend afternoons, Charlie might be able to come by multiple times a week. Maybe even every day.

Sawyer smiled hopefully as he tried to picture it. He would find a place, wherever they went. Somewhere safe, somewhere with water and shelter. Somewhere Charlie could come without much effort. And there, every day could feel like those long-ago summers, when Charlie would come see him for a week at a time. When they could go anywhere the wind blew.

These daydreams filled Sawyer’s mind as he went somewhere, anywhere, with the only friend he’d ever known.

#my writing #trust #GtWAC

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shroudkeeper · 9 months

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11. prompt / once bitten, twice shy

Where the wind carries the scent of flowers..

I know I can find you there.

Under the setting sun, you shone in her solitude, captivated by songbirds that herald the approach of evening. I did not wish to disturb you and pull you away from your daydreams, especially with the news I would bring.

You must know that I never intended to hurt you, to lead you astray and keep you far from the truth, but I intentionally had. Will that serene visage fade into my memories, will I see disappointment take shape on your features from the choice of taking away your autonomy anytime you look at me now?

Unsure of the outcome of my actions, I held a breath and slowly descended to my knees on the hashi you inhabit, allowing our eyes to meet without strain.

I am not a man who enjoys speaking so freely about my private thoughts, such self reflections are reserved for me alone, but how can I deny you. I owe you an explanation for my actions, even if you are unaware.

I rather you find out from me than another.

Against the pops and creaks of bamboo at the mercy of the winds, and between the melody of the birds that witnessed, I confessed my sin. Already, I could feel my throat burn with each word, a punishment of the kami, perhaps.

"..I do not like to admit my fears to anyone, as an oyabun it is a tool to be used against me. But you are family, my only daughter, and the reason my heart continues to beat. But I am but a mortal man, one who is brought low in admitting how far I would go to keep you safe, to the point of promising you to one who could continue to protect you when time has finally caught up to me."

The heat rose to my face, and before I knew it, tears filled the basin of my eyes and threatened to spill as I watched confusion in her gaze.

I have not cried in years, since I lost my daughter. The thought of going through that again caused emotions to resurface. You took notice, and as my vision blurred, I could see the silks of your sleeves and hear the shuffle of your feet as you closed the distance between us.

Underneath her caring touch, I found no hint of anger, only the cool sweep of her fingertips against the rivulets of tears that chased one another. She wiped my tears, and upon her, I found a warm smile, warmer than the setting sun that was dappled against my skin.

"I could not fathom watching someone I love leave me in this life. The world may know you as a trapped kami, a gentle spirit, but to me.. you are my daughter. I would have had Hayate care for you in my stead, I know he may come to love you.. as much as him. "

Then your arms came around the breadth of my form, and all I could feel was your embrace, you did not have to sign a word to me, I know the universal language of forgiveness. However, I could feel something damp spread into the threads of my robes; I knew that you too had been crying.

My heart ached, I knew I was the cause of this, a fool of a man trying to keep a bird, one who gained her wings.. behind a gilded cage.

Soundless was your weeping, and I allowed you this, to spend a few breaths letting out the tears. But when you pulled away, there was only a smile gracing your dampened features as air of calm fell around you. With your hands between us, you choreograph your words to me.

"Thank you for telling me everything, but in return I ask to not allow fear to ensnare and could your mind. I will not leave you anytime soon, a mortal existence means the days we spend together all too precious. We should look forward to each sunrise and a promise of rejoicing that we yet live and can enjoy our time as a family."

I deserved for you to walk away from me, to turn your back and not look at me the same, not your understanding and forgiveness. "Hayate would serve as a good husband to you, already he has proven himself a master swordsman, bolstering his natural strength. Hancock appealed to me, and if he is a man of his word and finds you this treasure, I will honor his request to stand at your side, without cause to worry.

"Master Hayate deserves someone who will love him, my heart has already been claimed, for the first time, I understand what the word love means. Mister Fitzgerald is not the end of me, he is a wonderful beginning to an adventure."

You didn't need a voice for me to understand the sincerity woven into these words, I knew then you loved him, even before you realized it; I was just not ready to let you go. A part of me perhaps never will be ready for it.

For a long moment, all I could do is kneel there and embrace you, to wipe away your tears and ponder if he will do as he said, if he was a man who would risk it all, his business, his money, the wrath of Lord Lolorito, even possibly his life, all for the sake of love.

You are not a normal woman to love, you live two lives, but a blind man could see why he cares for you, and why he would go to such lengths. I could only pray to the kami he makes you happy, and doesn't disappoint you.

Again.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv writing #ffxiv screenshot #did I proof read? Nope we going in raw baby #also I love her dad #he really does care for her #but wtf shigureeee why are you here

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griseldabanks · 7 months

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A few weeks ago, @rainintheevening and I were talking about protagonists (or at least POV characters, I guess) that we relate to really strongly - the kind of character you can point to and go, "That's me!"

I've always been a little frustrated, because while there are a lot of protagonists I can relate to in one dimension or another, I've hardly ever come across a protagonist who I could say with any amount of sincerity, "She's just like me!" Maybe they have a brother or a sister they're really close to, maybe they grew up in a place where they didn't feel like they belong, maybe they're an avid bookworm...but the majority of their traits always seem to be things I don't share with them. I think the only times I've identified very strongly with a protagonist were in House of Many Ways by Diana Wynne Jones (where the main character would rather sit at home and eat baked goods and read books instead of doing anything remarkable), and Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (where the main character is so shy she lets people walk all over her and generally is too timid to speak up even when she knows something is wrong - until she does, and then is treated like the ultimate bother for being a spoilsport).

I think a lot of that has to do with me being a rather shy, quiet, passive sort of person who would much rather just sit at home and read rather than get involved with high-stakes, world-saving shenanigans. It makes sense that there aren't too many protagonists like that - who would want to read about that kind of character? We like the protagonists who chase down their dreams, who see evil in the world and want to do something about it, the kind of people that make friends and deal with the problems that come their way with more interesting methods than just running into the bathroom to cry about it :/

This is why I always say I would be a side character - the best friend, the supporting character who is there for the main character when needed, who is valued in her own right, but doesn't take too much of the limelight away from the characters that most of the plot happens to. Generally, I'm satisfied with that. It suits me.

But still...I can't help wishing there were more protagonists like me.

And then I realized how many of the protagonists of my own stories are like me.

The Ambassadors - Shard is shy, quiet, has no friends when the story starts, literate in a time when hardly anybody is, would really have preferred to stay at home and continue scrubbing the floor of the village chapel rather than running away from home, becoming a dragon rider, and ending up saving the whole human kingdom

The Four - Timor is timid, quiet, and would much rather spend the whole rest of his life cooped up in a house than traipsing all across the land with complete strangers to become the king and risk his life a dozen times along the way

clone sister story - the main character is literally me, lol; big sister trying to figure out how to be a big sister, generally a quiet homebody who is closer to her family than any of her peers

superpowered siblings story - Sophie is also literally me; the story idea came to me in a dream about me and my siblings having superpowers, so she's a slightly dramatized version of me

Like...this should not surprise me. Every character you write has a piece of you in them. But it's kind of comforting to me, thinking that maybe there's a girl out there like me, who never sees herself in the protagonists she reads except in fractured fragments because, like me, she's a shy little homebody that never even bothered daydreaming about herself doing exciting or heroic things because she knew someone else would be more interesting. Maybe I can write the kind of protagonists I hardly ever got to read myself.

#just some random writerly thoughts #everybody goes on about representation of one demographic or another #talking about how important it is for people to see themselves in the stories they read #well i'd like to see more of this kind of protagonist

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moongirlcleo · 1 year

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Pro Hero! Kirishima x Reader

summary: Kirishima's assistant falling hard for him since she deserves a man who deserves the world and deserves multiple breaks in her opinion, the assistant trying to deny her/their own feelings because it's just a "office crush" and she'll get over it, only for Kirishima to be in love with her too, the roses that would be under her boyfriend's name but always saying, "let's not talk about the roses when you see me" because he's really not trying to home wreck but at the same time he's just so in love with her, after all reader is a good iron fist in the company yet very kind. CW: fluff, pining, reader has a partner A/N: idk who the boyfriend is but reader and Kirishima deserve a happy ending because he is the best boy❤️ Maybe I'll do a part two of this, idk what do yall think?

It wasn't easy working for someone you'd fallen hopelessly in love with. The moment Eijiro came back from his leave, things seemed different between the two of you. Even before the break, the two of you had spent more time apart than together - especially in those days where you weren't even allowed to speak to each other, apart from various emails regarding paperwork or interviews Eijiro had scheduled.

However, now that his leave was over and he was back to the agency full time, you couldn't keep yourself from daydreaming, either during the workday or while you were going home. You wanted nothing more than to spend every second you could with him, but you knew that you needed to put up some sort of emotional wall, and make sure that this "crush" was kept strictly professional. So whenever he tried to hug you or catch up on what happened during his leave, you'd quickly change the subject, insisting that you didn't have much free time lately and needed to focus on the job at hand.

At first, it was rough on you, and it took quite some effort to refrain from giving in to your desires. But somehow, despite your attempts to stay as far away as possible from thinking about him, you still found yourself getting drawn into your thoughts, especially when Kirishima would let his guard down and joke around about how much he missed you while he was away. Whenever he did, you felt a tug inside of you, urging you to run off somewhere with him and confess your true feelings to him. Of course, these moments passed rather quickly, as they always did. After all, if there was one thing that you knew for certain, it was that Kirishima did not like to take risks. It made sense, really. If something was important enough to risk his career over, then chances are, it meant a lot to him. But you knew better.

And besides, you were happy with the way things were going between you two. It had been such a long time since anyone had treated you the way he did, or showed you any affection in general. You'd been starved for it, really, and you were content to let things continue as they were. However, the situation changed once you realized that you'd fallen for the sweet red haired hero, for reasons that you couldn't fully understood. At first, it confused you, and you tried to push those thoughts away.

Given how Kirishima had always treated you, it was clear that he genuinely cared about you, and not just in a professional capacity. There was something special about the two of you, something that had been there since day one. For the longest time, you'd secretly harbored these thoughts , but you never dared say anything out loud because you knew that it was impossible. And yet here you were, feeling your heart race every time he talked about you. This wasn't what you had in mind when you applied to work at the agency.

The feelings in your head were a struggle, especially when you had someone else in your life that you cared about. It wasn't worth losing what you had built with Yoichi just because of a silly crush, right? You'd come too far with him, and he deserved better than someone who kept chasing after people who weren't available. Sure, the fact that your feelings were being thrown back at you may have hurt at first, but it didn't matter anymore. As long as you stuck by his side, everything would turn out okay. You promised yourself that you wouldn't let anyone or anything stand in the way of your relationship. Because as long as you two were strong, everything would be fine. At least that's what you told yourself when Yoichi yelled at you, drunk off his nightly libations, for coming home twenty minutes late for work.

You never thought you'd ever meet someone who made you question everything you believed in. Maybe that's why it hurt so badly. You never saw the look in Eijiro's eyes whenever you had fresh flowers sent to your desk. You could tell they were from Yoichi, except they were always signed "Please don't ask me about these when you get home. Just enjoy the gift, princess." He hadn't called you princess in years. Even now, you wiped a tear from your eyes, wondering where the two of you had gone so wrong.

He never wanted to be a home wrecker. Not really, at least. But Eijiro could see the pain in your eyes whenever someone mentioned your shitty boyfriend. On more than one occasion, he contemplated asking Bakugo for assistance to "straighten" the guy out, but ultimately decided against it. He didn't want to come off as that guy, so instead, he signed the flowers he sent you weekly as vague as he could so you could enjoy them. You were the sweetest human, and by far the most intelligent person he'd ever had the chance to meet.

And he was fucking head-over-heels in love with you.

You were exactly the reason he got up in the morning every day; why he tried his best every single day to better himself for you.

Whenever something would go wrong or some shit got stolen from the lab (it happened pretty often, actually), he knew that he couldn't rely on anyone else but you to save the day. Your ideas were absolutely brilliant, and even if you thought that they were silly, you still put your whole heart into them. And honestly? It was so damn endearing.

No matter what kind of a bad day he was having, he knew that a simple smile from you would make everything feel okay again. The first thing he saw every single morning was your beautiful face. Those bright e/c eyes and luscious lips. That long h/c hair and those perfectly chiseled cheekbones. How the fuck did he get so lucky to find someone like you to be his assistant?

When he thought about all the women he'd slept with, he realized that none of them could ever compare to you. They were all just pointless filler until he found you. He just had to find a way to make you see what you had, and what was waiting for you. Eijiro couldn't stand to see you in pain. If there was any way he could fix it, he'd be the one to find it. After all, what kind of boss lets their employees suffer?

#mha fanfiction #mha #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #eijiro kirishima #eijiro #moongirlcleo

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vespertin-y · 2 years

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Are you ready????? I have quite a list for you.... Numbers 9, 13, 20, 48, 56, 62, 69, 71, 83&84, and 92! :D

YESSSS THAT'S SO MANY THANK U FOR FEEDING ME

9: Favorite Execution?

hmm...i’d have to say kaede’s! i was very worried about v3′s executions since sdr2′s were...Like That, but those worries were put to rest in the most heartbreaking possible way :’). it’s so LAYERED, too!! Der Flohwalzer is essentially the japanese version of Chopsticks - it’s an extremely simple piece and very likely the first piece kaede learned how to play. so of course monokuma doesn’t just make it the last piece she ever plays - he makes it the WORST, fucking it up in the most eargrating way possible. and since kaede’s motivation was to see her audience smile, there’s a crowd of booing monokumas literally stoning her for this failure. the actual method of killing (slow and agonizing suffocation added to by blunt force trauma and finished off with crushing) is reminiscent of thh in that while it’s over the top, it’s still a real method of torture and death that could happen to a real person. whereas the setting (an impossibly large piano appearing in a black void that all the students just...teleport to, i guess?) is much more reminiscent of sdr2 in that it is absolutely not something monokuma could’ve pulled off in reality, hinting to you that the game is not as real as it might seem.

13: Favorite Love Hotel Scene?

probably unsurprisingly, kokichi’s 😅. it’s just so good though!!! i was ALREADY a sucker for the phantom thief/detective dynamic, so when they not only slapped it on top of a ship i already liked, but used it to confirm that kokichi has genuine feelings for saihara? i was a GONER. i also love that it reaffirms that kokichi is just. a massive dork. the biggest goober. he’s one of the scariest antags danganronpa has ever had, sure - but he also loves yu-gi-oh and is terrified of bugs and spends his freetime daydreaming about being a cool phantom thief who his crush has to chase after. he’s a nerd.

20: Happiest In-Game Moment?

already answered here!

48: A Character You Thought You Would Dislike but Liked In The End?

i’d have to say kaito! i found him VERY obnoxious my first watch through, but the second time around i found myself growing quite a soft spot for him...he’s a much more complex character than i originally gave him credit for! i think a significant portion of my sympathies comes from reading fanfiction that helped me better understand his perspective, lol. (for a good oneshot read ‘cause maybe you’re that thing i need (can you save me) by ToxicPineapple, and for a good longfic read Amalgamate by DoctorHaifish!!)

56: Which Character Did You Not Expect To Die But They Did?

probably rantaro! he was so obviously important i really didn’t expect him to kick it (which i suppose was the point, lol) so i was totally shellshocked when he did. and then they went and killed off the main character, too...post-chapter one was the first time i really felt like no one was safe in danganronpa. before, i’d been so confident that i could tell who was too plot-important to die!!

62: A Character You Can Relate To?

himiko all the way lol. the tiny stature...the Depression mistaken for laziness...the attempts to talk to people by clumsily foisting your interests at them...That’s Me Babeyyy

69: Hope or Despair?

hope! naegi-hope, though, not komaeda-hope...shiver

71: Which Character’s Clothing Would You Like In Real Life?

CHIAKI. i would KILL for that cat hoodie okay...

83: A Character You’d Like To See As The Antagonist? + 84: Character as Antagonist Headcannon?

i would’ve really liked to see angie as a fully-fledged antagonist rather than the few (extremely racist) moments we got of her being a threat before she immediately died, oof. she’s so INTERESTING! i think the trait i’m most interested in her having as an antagonist is her arrogance? she really does believe that if all the other students just listened to her all the time, no one would die. she’s very similar to kokichi in that she’s absolutely sure she’s the smartest person in the room, lol. and yet they come to opposite conclusions - kokichi thinks group teamwork is foolish and will get them killed, and angie thinks group teamwork is the only way forward. such an interesting parallel and they did nothing with it...

92: Recommended Headcanon?

this one is interesting...not a headcanon you like, but a headcanon you recommend? hmm...i’d have to say that v3 is a VR simulation! i poked at it a little when i was talking about kaede’s execution, but v3, uh...doesn’t make sense? thh is very careful to set up the rules of the universe - it’s pretty anime, but not too anime. when usami turns a chicken into a cow in sdr2, it’s IMMEDIATELY meant to tip you off to the fact that this isn’t quite real (and the executions follow this same pattern). and v3′s logic is much closer to sdr2′s than thh’s. sentient robots, cospox, magically changing outfits...they’ve already taught us that this kind of stuff just doesn’t happen in danganronpa’s reality! i honestly don’t really understand people who think it’s not vr, lol.

#THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE AAAA #HOPE U LIKE IT BC I'M NOT PROOFREADING AT ALL #mem gets an ask

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

Maneater...

For the charming @multific 🎐💌

Hope you’ll enjoy the story!

I eat boys up, breakfast and lunch.

Then when I'm thirsty, I drink their blood

Carnivore, animal, I am a cannibal

I eat boys up, you better run

I am cannibal (cannibal, cannibal, I am)

I am cannibal (cannibal) (I'll eat you up) (I am)

I am cannibal (cannibal, cannibal, I am)

I am cannibal (cannibal) (I'll eat you up)

Ke$ha - Cannibal

"Are you going to speak?"

(Y/N) smirked as he saw the F.B.I agent in front of him losing his temper.

He loved playing with their nerves since he started his "career."

His killing spree would be the more appropriate term for what he did. Officially, (Y/N) claimed the lives of forty people. But deep inside, the F.B.I investigators feared that the body count was higher than expected.

He shrugged:

"Why would I speak? It is not in my interest."

"Quite the contrary, it is in your interest to speak? Either you spill the beans, either..." threatened the F.B.I agent.

His colleague calmed him down.

"Chill out, Bob. There is no need to waste your energy with him like that."

(Y/N) grinned with arrogance: it looked like one of the two men was more clever than his colleague.

"Damn it, Josh! We lose our time trying to make him speak when we can be outside, looking for his lunatic boyfriend!"

The prisoner hissed:

"Don't ever talk about him like this again!"

"Or what? You will tear my head off?"

"Shut up, Bob."

"So what? Can't I have some fun with our guest?"

Josh pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, he cannot blame Bob for picking up on their prisoner. After all, (Y/N) killed his best friend, Phil, by slitting his throat.

But, on the other hand, they needed the unsub to give pieces of information about his lover. And antagonizing him would not be helpful for their investigation...

Sighing, Josh sat in front of (Y/N) and said:

"Listen, (Y/N): we can always negotiate!"

"Negotiate? About what?"

The F.B.I agent shrugged:

"I don't know... For example, I can give you a reduction of years in prison. Instead of ending up in a state penitentiary, you can spend your prison sentence in one of the best mental health units in the country. You can have everything you want, but one condition..."

"And it is?"

"You have to tell me everything you know about where Hannibal Lecter is!"

The prisoner snarled:

"Really? Who do you take me for, uh? A snitch?"

"I would say that I take you for a reasonable person, but it looks like that you're more stubborn than expected!"

(Y/N) sighed: they can go to hell! He would never tell them where Hannibal is!

The young man resisted the urge to smirk as he thought about his lover, the infamous cannibal Hannibal Lecter. Both men were different: while Hannibal was an elegant and cultivated man, (Y/N) was more a rebel and provocative young man. However, it did not prevent them from being attracted to one another. After all, they shared this hidden violence and lust for blood.

(Y/N) threw his head back and closed his eyes as he remembered the feeling of Hannibal's hands on his body. He smirked while thinking of the sound of his deep voice in his ear. A sigh of pleasure escaped as he cherished the taste of his lips against his.

Suddenly, a slap across his face woke him up from his daydreaming.

"Hey, wake up, you crazy!"

"BOBBY, NO! What are you doing?"

"Gaining time! This jackass needs to remember that I can make his life a living hell if he does not cooperate!"

"Oh, and you think that your method will help us?"

"Don't tell me you have sympathy for this psycho!"

"First of all, no, and secondly, if I were you, I would not treat him harshly. If Lecter heard about it..."

Bob jeered.

"Come on, don't be such a chicken! We're going to catch this sadistic before he could reach us!"

Josh rolled his eyes: his colleague was not only stubborn but also oblivious.

"Bob, all policemen or federal agents dream of catching Hannibal Lecter. Those who dared to chase him down like an animal ended up dead. It is what Phil did and what he got? A slit throat!"

"All because of him!"

Suddenly, they heard a phone ringing. Checking his pocket, Josh noticed that his boss was calling him.

"Alright, that's the boss!"

"What does he want?"

"I'll answer. Keep an eye on him... and don't do anything stupid?"

"Who do you think I am? A rookie?"

"No, but I know what you're capable of when you're pissed!" grumbled Josh as he exited the room to answer the call.

Once his colleague left the room, Bob stepped closer to (Y/N) and said with a smirk:

"So, you want to play the tough guy?"

"Look who is talking!" taunted (Y/N).

Fed up, Bob pinned the young man on the table and growled:

"I am tired of your little game, you punk! Either you spit it out, or I'll make you regret it for the rest of your life!"

(Y/N) laughed.

"Oh, I am so scared! Seriously, do you think you're the only person who threatened me like that?"

The grip around his neck tightened.

"Don't forget that if you die, no one would care. And you can be sure that once I am done with you, I will personally take care of your psychopathic boyfriend!"

The young man struggled, trying to get out of this grip. It was out of the question to let this redneck lay a hand on Hannibal. Over his dead body!

Suddenly, he saw a pair of hands grabbing Bob's shoulders and throwing him away. The federal agent hit the wall and fell unconscious. Surprised, (Y/N) slowly got up and realized that Hannibal was here.

"Hello, darling," smirked the cannibal.

"Hi, babe!" replied the young man with a grin.

The psychiatrist unhandcuffed his lover before kissing his wrists.

"Sorry for being late, but I had to deal with some F.B.I agents. I hope you did not wait too much."

"No, I'm alright. I knew you would come here for me!"

Hannibal gently smiled: he never doubted his lover's resilience. After all, the cannibal appreciated the strong temper of (Y/N), as it complemented his calm character.

Taking (Y/N)'s hand, he declared:

"Shall we go, now?"

"And what about him?" asked (Y/N) as he pointed towards the F.B.I agent who laid down on the floor, knocked out.

The psychiatrist smirked with a hungry smile:

"Well, we could have him for dinner!"

"Brilliant idea, baby. Let's go!"

The two serial killers ran away, taking Bob with them. They stole a car and drove down the road to their hideout.

(Y/N) lightened a cigarette and started to smoke. As he blew a puff of smoke, he muttered:

"I am sorry..."

"About what, my dear?" inquired Hannibal.

"Being caught by those jackasses. I should have been more careful."

"Don't blame yourself, (Y/N). They caught you by surprise, and you tried your best..."

"They wanted me to sell you out to Jack Crawford. I'd rather die than spilling the beans..."

Hannibal noticed the bruises on (Y/N)'s cheek and neck. It did not take him too long to understand:

"Is that our guest who caused this?"

"Nothing gets past you, uh? Indeed, it was him!"

"I see..." muttered Lecter.

It would be hard to find an appropriate recipe for the F.B.I agent. Oh, he could deal with it later. Now, all he wanted to do was celebrating his reunion with his lover.

A few minutes later, they arrived at their hideout.

Hannibal and (Y/N) put the unconscious Bob into the turned-off freezer and locked him inside before going to their boudoir.

Once they did it, (Y/N) put his arms around Hannibal's neck and muttered with a grin:

"I am hungry, dear."

"Well, give me an hour, and I will prepare you a dinner worthy of the name!"

Grinning, his lover brought his face closer and replied:

"Darling, I did not talk about eating!"

The cannibal smirked:

"I am glad that we are on the same wavelength, my love."

Then, they feverishly kissed each other as they laid down on the sofa. The two lovers quickly got rid of their clothes and pursued their lovemaking.

Usually, (Y/N) preferred being in control. However, he always let Hannibal taking control during their sex session. After all, the cannibal always knew how to make him scream of pleasure.

As they made love, the young man thought of how they would eat the F.B.I agent in the freezer. (Y/N) knew Hannibal: he would be creative. He drooled over the upcoming dinner: that would be delicious!

Once they reached the seventh heaven, the two killers took a break and held each other...

When Bob opened his eyes, he understood that he would not get away this time. Trying to get off his binds, he felt a chill down his spine as he saw Hannibal and (Y/N) facing him with a grin on their faces.

"Greetings, dear guest. I'm glad you're finally awake!"

The federal agent tried to scream, but the gag on his mouth prevented him from doing so.

"Don't worry, Bob: there is nothing to worry about it. After all, you're here for dinner. Oh, wait: I should say that you are here because YOU are the dinner!" smirked (Y/N).

Poor Bob! He wanted so much to catch Hannibal Lecter and (Y/N) that he walked into the lion's den. And if the curiosity kills the cat, the ambition would be his demise.

And tonight, he would be the dinner of two maneaters...

Thank you very much for the reading: I hope you enjoyed the story!

Don’t hesitate to leave comments and requests: it will be a pleasure!

See you later and take care of you! 😘🥰😍

#requests #gifts #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #andy biersack

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akaashisupremacy · 3 years

Text

Just for Tonight

Summary: Miya Atsumu believes that he can find happiness as long as he keeps looking. Can he find the one?

Notes: This fic combines my love for fuccboi!Atsumu and the stuff he can say to make me swoon lol

January Fic List || Masterlist || Read it on A03

Miya Atsumu x reader

genre: friends to lovers (?), pining, unrequited love? (wc: 1.2k)

“Should I chase them down the airport and apologize?” Atsumu bangs at your door at 10:30 pm on a Thursday night.

He’s been knocking for 5 minutes and you’re sure to hear from the neighbors tomorrow, but you couldn’t get to the door sooner because you were in the shower. You open the door just enough for him to see you.

“What went wrong this time?” you snap irritably, “And I’m closing the door because it’s cold and you interrupted my shower.”

The current person he was dating dumped him just before they went on a trip. Although Miya Atsumu has got game, he’s not very good at keeping romantic partners he brings into his life. Him asking advice at odd hours of the clock happens more often than you’d like.

“Err…they said something about me needing to give them more space and to be more sensitive about the way I talk.” he recounts from the other side of your door.

You roll your eyes. This is not the first time you’ve heard of these complaints against Atsumu. In fact, they are recurring.

“Atsumu, you have no subtlety, no tact,” you massage your temples even if he can’t see it, “You need to learn how to communicate and compromise better. Not everyone can handle someone so frank. And you’re really clingy for a grown ass man, so you gotta work on that if you want any of your relationships to work.”

He’s quiet for a while, thinking through your advice, hands probably sunk into his MSBY jacket.

“You don’t seem to mind that I talk the way I do.” you can almost see him scowling, “Also can you let me in?”

“No.” you simply put, “But I’m not them and vice-versa. I��m not your girlfriend, Atsumu, nor am I standard for tolerance.”

“You would be but you refuse to date me.” he exhales, probably scratching his head and leaning back into his heels.

“I would only date you if I want to get rid of you. None of your relationships last more than 6 months.” You finally open the door and cross your arms across your chest. A cold gust of wind sends regrets down your spine, “Now shoo!! Go away. I’m going back to my shower.”

He puts his hands on his hips and calls out loudly to no one in particular, “You don’t need to hide yourself from me. I know what you look like naked…”

You slam the door in his face, “BYE. I'M HEADING BACK TO MY NICE HOT SHOWER.”

“And you’re gorgeous by the way!!” he gleefully adds.

As he turns his heels back into his own place, his mind wanders to your body: the hollows of your hips, the curves of your collarbone, your skin against his fingertips. You felt impossibly soft against him that one night you may or may not have hooked up.

He wouldn’t have minded hooking up a second time, but you turned him down, saying that you’d rather stay just friends. Ever since then, you’ve been on the back of his mind. He couldn’t shake how he saw you in a new light. As one of his closest friends, you easily understood him and you were sexually compatible. That was all the makings of a good relationship right?

He quickly texts you that he won’t be dating for a while. He needs time to think.

—————————————————————————------------

Atsumu’s dating life is quiet for a while, which is weird because he’s an inexorable flirt. Something changes in Atsumu. He stops going on consecutive dates. He’s spending more time in your circle of friends. He even tries reading as a hobby.

Your chat exchange is mostly memes, free of emergency advice for the women in his romantic life. You’re a little dumbfounded, but at least it’s peaceful.

Trouble starts brewing when he calls one evening.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow. Let’s go out.”

“Who else is invited?” you check your calendar, “And which club are we heading to?” You better clear the rest of the weekend, because Atsumu is one to party through the night.

“No one else. Just you.” he casually says. You almost drop your phone into your pot. Is this some kind of prank?

“Atsumu, when I said I didn’t want to hook up again that includes dating too.” you gripe.

He immediately jumps to convince you. “Just one date. We don’t have to do this again. I swear!”

Which is how the next day Atsumu is standing with you outside your door at the end of the night. Every detail of him is defined because the moon is out and the sky is bright. You almost hate to admit it, but you’ve had a really good time tonight. He can be extremely charming when he wants to be

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” he asks.

You hesitate at first.

“Just for tonight.” you jab a finger into his chest. He nods.

He leans in surprisingly gentle. His lips land on yours, warm and soft. His firm hands, slide down your back to your waist before settling into your hips. He presses his body to yours to feel your dips and curves. Although he feels heat rising from his core, he’s careful to reign in his instincts.

He slides his tongue into mouth and pulls away for a quick breath before diving back in. He notices your hands at your sides and guides them to his chest. He craves for your touch.

He eventually takes his hand off your hips and holds your hands with his. The palm of his thumbs run the back of your hands—an unexpectedly sweet gesture from him.

After you’re both done kissing, he lightly presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. You’ve never seen him so tender, it almost makes your heart skip a beat.

“I know I don’t have the best history but I really want you to give me a shot.” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “You feel so right for me.”

You don’t really talk. Instead you press your head on the crook of his shoulder and he absently runs a hand up and down the nape of your neck. You feel your heart beat grow louder after each passing second. Why does it feel like it’s so easy to fall for him all of a sudden?

“But am I right for you?” you mumble, mostly to him but in part to yourself. You can feel him tense up.

He bites his lip and pulls away, “Mmm…maybe a question for another time.”

———————————————————— When Atsumu is showered and tucked into bed, he closes his eyes to try to remember how you smelled like

He looks at his phone and tosses it aside before picking it up again to call your number.

“So I’m about to go to sleep…and I remembered that our goodbyes…were cut short.” he carefully chooses his words, “Can you wish me goodnight?”

He hears you stifle a laugh.

“Good night, Atsumu, oyasuminasai.” you bade him, a warm feeling spreads in his chest. “Happy birthday. I hope you had a good one.”

You click off after that. He smiles to himself.

Atsumu daydreams what it would be like for you to be beside him, but he’ll have to make do with tonight’s call until then.

“Happy birthday.” you had said. Well, he’s the happiest when he’s with you.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Heya! If you liked this fic, I wrote a follow up. Check it here.

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! :D

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genshin-latte · 4 years

Note

Can I request a scenario for jean x fem reader?

Wherein jean was jealous how the reader and lisa interacting with other considering that jean and reader are a couple. And the reader reassured jean that her eyes are only for her

Oh God cchhheesseee;;;;; This is the first time I’ve written Jean I hope it’s alright... orr you can slap me and throw me into a hole sldkjfjr this is so cheesssyy heelp

Only for You

Pairing : Jean x f!reader

Word count : 911 words

“I’ll see you later, dear.” Lisa gave you a sweet smile before exiting Jean’s office. The door clicked shut leaving you and your girlfriend alone in the room. “I suppose you have another library date with Lisa?” Jean’s words were soft in tone but you could tell she wasn’t exactly happy. “Hey, I’m only returning the books.” You took her hand in reassurance, “I’ll meet you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” She sighed, you planted a kiss on her head “love you.” You whispered before slowly letting go of her hand, almost in a dramatic manner. She could only smile seeing your antics, giving you a small wave “Love you too.” “I’ll see you.” You peeked through the entrance’s gap, waving one last time before closing the door. “Don’t overwork!” She let out a small laugh hearing your voice from the other side of the walls.

Jean’s frown returned once you left. You had been spending an awful lot of time with Lisa as of late. She knows that she should be happy her two closest were bonding. But she can’t help but feel the subtle pangs of jealousy whenever you’re together with the librarian. It’s not that she doesn’t trust you —or Lisa in that matter. It’s just.. maybe she was growing insecure. Moreover Lisa’s flirty nature was no less than charming. Jean would see you giggle every time the mage were to play with your hair, and the look of admiration in your eyes whenever she’s around. Perhaps you’d prefer someone like that?

The blonde groaned at her thoughts, she wasn’t supposed to be daydreaming at a time like this. Shaking her head she returned her focus to the stack of papers in front of her. She needs to get this done, it’s her duty as a knight after all and she can see you after. That itself is rewarding. Though no matter how much she wanted to concentrate, her thoughts would always wander to you.

——

“Oh hi, cutie.” Lisa greeted you as you stepped into the library. “Evening, Lisa. I’m here to return the books. As promised.” Placing the stack of books on her desk, you sighed. “My, such a good girl now, aren’t you?” She let out a small laugh, whilst unstacking the books checking them one by one. “How’s Jean?” Her sudden question surprised you. “... she’s been rather off lately” You sighed again, remembering your earlier encounter, she didn’t look like she was in a good mood.

“Why don’t you let her loosen up then, take her out for some fun.” Though her tone was slightly mischievous you could tell her suggestion came from a good place. ”In fact I think she might already be waiting.” She turned her head, gesturing towards the door. You spun around, your eyes met with the cools hues that you’ve come to love so much. “Oh.” Jean’s expression fell, “I apologize.. I did not mean to interrupt. I’ll come back later.” She averted her gaze before turning around and left. “Jean, hey.” Your feet immediately chased after her.

“Oh, the lovebirds.” Lisa could only watch in amusement as her two friends left.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You finally caught up to her. She stopped on a seemingly empty hallway, resting her back against the side of the wall. She fell silent, eyes fixed on the ground, hesitating to answer your question. “Sorry, my feelings seems to have gotten to me.” She sighed in defeat, still trying to brush off her jealousy. “Talk to me?” You placed a hand on her cheek. She put a hand over yours, pausing for a little while “I suppose I was a little upset seeing you spend so much time with her.” She uttered, a grim look on her face. She was always so dignified and strong, it was an expression you rarely see.

‘Her...? Lisa?’ You had thought that was the case. “Jean.. I’m sorry.” Hearing your apology, she finally returned your gaze, “I just.. I thought I’d give you space to rest since you’re always overworked.” You hadn’t meant to make her feel neglected. “It’s alright, I’m just..” she trailed off. “Hey, look at me.” Your words were a soft whisper, face only inches apart from hers, you could see the melancholy behind her cool eyes. “You know what I see?” You looked straight at her, making sure to get your next message clear, “I see a strong and incredible leader. I see the most beautiful and endearing woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon. I see... you, the only person I’ll spend the rest of my life with.”

She was.. struck. She could only stare at you, a light tint of blush on her features, nervously biting her lip. You were in between wanting to kiss her or bury yourself on the ground because that came out way, way cheesier than you expected. “I.. thank you..” she muttered. Oh, now you really wanted to kiss her and you did. Placing your other hand on her face, you captured her lips in a sweet kiss. She sighs in relief resting her forehead against yours. “I only have eyes for you.” You said again, reassuring her. “Okay, okay.” A small laugh left her lips, she was sure she was going to explode out of embarrassment if she hears another one of your compliments. Her next words was but a mere whisper, but it contained the deep rooted feelings she has,

“You too, are my only beloved, (y/n).”

#genshin impact #genshin impact jean #genshin jean #genshin jean x reader #genshin impact jean x reader #jean gunnhildr #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fanfiction #cup of latte

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 5 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader (accidentally) blows off a text from Spencer for another guy. Later, Spencer takes her for a second date. A/N: By the way, when you get to the adorable dance scene, the two songs that inspired me most were “Stardust” by Lyambiko and “We Might as Well Dance” by Madeleine Peyroux (Try not to read into the lyrics, I dare you). Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW 18+) Content Warning: Unprotected sex, dirty talk, jealousy, degradation, penetrative sex Word Count: 10k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

—————————————————

I had never envisioned that my life would end up quite like this. That wasn't to say that it was disappointing or regrettable, although in that moment it felt like I had miscalculated a number of things. There was no other way to describe a Saturday night spent laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling of my friend's apartment as if I could manipulate myself into believing it was Spencer's.

It wasn't anyone's fault that it couldn't be his, instead. The stupid, gorgeous bastard wasn't ignoring me; he was just out of town for the weekend.

Truthfully, I should have been a little more considerate. It wasn't his fault he had to work. But I also couldn't help but be disappointed that he was always working. I hadn't seen him in almost two weeks and it was killing me. The last time I'd seen him was the morning after our first 'date,' and it was a brief enough interaction that I had already run out of ways to overthink it.

Spencer had gotten a restful night of sleep that night. Despite his little impromptu confession, he slept as though he'd never been more peaceful in his life. I had not. I'd had the pleasure of staying up for hours, playing his words through my head on loop and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened.

It didn't amount to anything though. The morning came, and he had long forgotten the words half mumbled through a sleepy daze. I'd told him that he had been mumbling in his sleep, and he asked me if he'd said anything embarrassing. I told him no. He hadn't pressed any further, simply stating that he must've been dreaming.

I almost thought it had been a challenge; a way to test if I'd gotten too close. But then I realized that I was probably just an idiot, and I was wanting it to mean more than it actually did.

So much for having run out of ways to overthink it.

Regardless, his aloofness had returned my heart to the broken, hurting mess it had been before he uttered the words that forever altered my universe.

That wasn't his fault, either. I was the one who'd set myself up for failure by ever imagining that we could be something more. I'd known he wasn't the most emotionally available suitor since the moment I met him. At least, not for me. I'd never actually seen him anyone else.

I didn't really want to think about that, though. I really didn't want to think about that.

"Hey, get your lazy ass up so I can sit down."

The order drew me from my reverie — rather unpleasantly, might I add. Because when I turned to face my friend standing in front of me, I came face to face with his crotch.

"Dude, I don't want any of that in my face," I laughed to the unfortunately familiar sight. "Back up before I punch you in the dick."

Somewhat surprisingly, he obeyed. He took a step back and waited patiently for me to sit up and scoot over to give him room beside me on the couch. Completely unsuprisingly, however, he did not take advantage of any of the space available. He chose to sit close enough to touch me.

"Some women would do anything to have that privilege," he lied through his teeth.

"Who are these women? And how can I help them avoid this tragic fate?"

He smiled back, having already grown used to me rebuffing all of his advances years before. We had known each other for what felt like forever, but he still tried every chance he'd gotten. That moment was no exception, and it took him very little time to stretch his arm behind me on the couch. I leaned forward, glancing back at the arm that I would continue to avoid despite his best efforts.

I narrowed my eyes in a challenge when he did nothing to remedy the situation. He did not take the humble way out, so my only other option was to do the humbling for him.

"There are three whole couches in this room and you pick the seat directly next to me?"

"You're warm and it's 50 degrees in here," he joked while lifting his other hand to poke me on the nose.

I recoiled in disgust, grabbing the pillow beside me and hitting him in the face with it as hard as humanly possible.

"Then turn up the heat or grab a blanket, jackass," I grumbled, "I'm not giving you my precious body heat."

Once again, he conceded immediately. He held his hands in defeat and scooted just a few inches further away from me. I watched him for a second until he got far enough away, and then returned my attention to my phone, which I had been religiously checking for any news about the vastly more interesting man in my life.

"What are you looking at?"

"My friend. He's supposed to have landed a couple hours ago..."

Seeing that I had no new messages, though, I slumped over onto myself and rested my elbow on my knee. Continuing to ignore the boy trying to get my attention, I favored the one that was possibly ignoring me and endlessly scrolled through our previous conversations.

"Is that the cop? Your boyfriend?" he teased.

"He's not a cop," I corrected with a roll of the eyes.

Although not keen about the thought of the two of them meeting, I did wonder what kind of rant Spencer would've gone into to describe the different types of law enforcement agents. He would learn so much about government job descriptions. But that wasn't the part of the sentence that my friend had stressed, and I felt compelled to answer.

Didn't mean I had to be loud or excited about it, though.

"And he's not my boyfriend," I mumbled into my palm. I hated how pathetic it felt; how forlorn I could be over a man not giving me enough attention. He was still just a man.

A very cute, sweet, and drop-dead gorgeous one. But a man, nonetheless. Destined to be disappointing. During my daydreams and hopeful, lovesick thoughts, my friend had come to another, different conclusion about the type of man Spencer was.

"He carries a gun and can arrest people. He's a cop."

"Whatever," I said with a heavy sigh. Wasn't worth it to fight, so I admitted to my childish infatuation with an equally pitiful, "Yeah, it's Spencer. I was hoping he'd want to see me."

I turned the volume on my phone before finally setting it down, but continued to eye the screen until it went dark.

"It's not like you to chase after a dude," he so helpfully commented.

To his credit, he was right. It wasn't like me. But Spencer wasn't like other guys I'd met, and while it was true that Spencer was ten years older than me, I could tell that age wasn't the only thing setting him apart. It wasn't even necessarily something about him in particular, although he certainly was extraordinary.

It was more like... the way he looked at me. The way I never felt like anything even remotely close to lackluster. He looked at me like the stares shone through my eyes, and the blindness was worth witnessing the unfiltered eclipse.

"I'm not chasing him. We just like spending time with each other," I explained before sitting up straighter and placing a gentle hand to my chest in feigned pride. "I'm a very interesting person."

But then he responded with the last question I wanted to hear, or even think about potentially considering in that moment. The one that had been weighing on my mind no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.

"So... why isn't he your boyfriend, then?"

I hadn't wanted to hear it because I didn't have an answer. And no matter how hard I inspected my cuticles, they likewise produced no excuse worth saying.

The man to my right was twisting his body as he settled into the seat. He kept his chest open to me in some display of fragile masculinity that was very easy to ignore.

"Is he like, ashamed of you or something?" he suggested.

That was less easy to ignore.

"No..." I wanted it to sound more certain than it did. As it stood, it was downright pathetic. Especially compared to his much more confident reply of, "Then what's his excuse?"

I sighed again, that time pulling my legs up on the couch in my unending quest to find some semblance of comfort while being interrogated on the most irritating subject of all time.

"He doesn't need an excuse. We both agreed it's better to just be friends."

He moved closer to me again, and I didn't have the energy to tell him to stop. Not like he would have listened, anyway. Egotistical prick with absolutely nothing to substantiate his inflated sense of self.

"You deserve better than that, (y/n)."

While his words were soft in volume, everything else about him remained gruff and uninviting. Nothing at all like the way Spencer could shift and turn into something completely different. My friend could act like his feigned tenderness was meaningful, but I knew that he liked the thought of me more than who I actually was.

"Yeah, right. With who? You?" I droned, wishing that my words could actually be laced with venom. Maybe then he'd have abandoned this foolhardy quest to win my affections.

"I mean I'm not gonna turn you down if you're offering," he joked.

It was that lightness that was his main redeeming feature; the reason I could keep him around even when his fingers tapped against my opposite shoulder. I laughed at both the sensation and suggestion, refusing by lifting his arm off my shoulders before excusing myself from the couch altogether.

"Piss off. I'm running down to the basement. You want anything?"

"Just for you to come back quick," was his immediate, not-at-all charming reply.

"You're a fucking idiot," was mine.

It wasn't until I was already on my way back up after grabbing a blanket and a drink that I had actually managed to forget about my phone for at least a few minutes.

Then, the terror came. The worry that Spencer had called me, and I'd failed to answer. The possibility that he might've hit my number on a list and already moved on to the next. It had only been like five minutes but still. He talked so damn fast, he could've torn through 5 phone calls in that time.

A little faster, I made my way back to the living room, shouting from down the hall, "Hey, did I leave my phone up here?"

He didn't answer immediately, but then eventually slurred, "Uhh. Yep. Sure did."

When I rounded the corner, I found the gremlin going through my phone. As I already started to plan the new pass code now that he'd gone and figured it out, I ran over, half-tackling him on the couch as I screeched, "Give it back, you dick!"

It was no use. He held it just outside my reach, laughing at the way I scrambled over him to try and grab it.

"Not unless you promise not to check it until after the movie."

Sighing with resignation, I plopped down next to him, my arms crossed and eyes rolled as I convinced myself it was unlikely Spencer would text me within the next hour and a half if he hadn't already.

It was pretty late. Maybe he had already gone to bed and just forgotten to let me know he got home. Besides, I owed my friend as much for managing to get me to forget to check it for this long, no?

"Fine. I promise," I groaned.

I tried not to let the thought ruin my night. The next two hours were like they usually were. He kept trying to cuddle with me, and I kept pushing him away until I eventually didn't. I gave into the general familiarity with the guy I'd known for basically half of all my memories, stopping every few seconds to wonder if I should have felt guilty.

Then I felt guilty for having asked myself at all.

Once the credits began to roll, I held my hand out with zero hesitation. I (im)patiently for him to deposit my phone, which he did, to his credit. However, what I found struck me to my core. My hands immediately began to shake hard enough that the LED blurred in my vision.

"Uhhh, what the fuck is this?"

"What?"

I held up my phone, displaying a text message that had been sent from my phone a couple hours earlier. On the screen, clear as day, me and him from earlier in the day. A painfully domestic snapshot of the two of us running errands together.

The picture shown, though, was one that I swore I'd deleted from my phone. It was him with his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest while I laughed. It wasn't a bad picture, but the context was entirely absent. For example, the fact that I'd almost bruised his chest hitting him right after the photo was taken.

"Why did you send this picture?!" I yelled, desperately swiping at the time stamp. "Two hours ago?!"

He was much too quiet for what was happening. In my haste, I hadn't even notice the accompanying text above the picture, which read 'Sorry man, she's all mine tonight.' Spencer didn't reply.

"Why didn't you tell me that he texted me?!"

My frustration had peaked, and I stood up, pacing somewhat unproductively as I tried to collect my things.

"Because I knew you'd try to leave, and I haven't seen you in fucking ages," he whined, as if I was overreacting.

But I wasn't. This contrived bullshit was entirely his fault, and entirely fucking ridiculous.

"Are you fucking kidding me, dude?" I shouted, finally finding my bag and shoving my stuff inside of it angrily. I didn't even finish, with a few loose coins angrily clambering to the floor as the soundtrack to my farewell.

"Well, now I'm definitely leaving, so kiss my ass!"

Before I could actually leave, I held up my middle finger in the furthest thing from a joke.

"Wait, (y/n), it was a joke!" he called back but didn't try to follow me.

He'd known it wouldn't work. I was too mad.

"You're not fucking funny!"

I slammed the door to my car loud enough to wake the neighbors, but I couldn't care even a little bit. My hands were shaking so hard, that it was a struggle just to click my phone. But I did, fervently pressing Spencer's name until the stupid, traitorous phone could figure out what I wanted it to do.

It rang for 15 whole seconds before I grieved the reality that he wasn't going to pick up. I sighed, lowering my phone to hang up before he could ignore the call or I was given the choice to leave a voicemail. It had been my own fault, anyway.

But just before I hit the button, I heard a tired, crackly voice coming from the other side of the line.

"(Y/n)?"

Oh my god, he picked up.

Then, all at once, the words poured out of me.

"Spencer? I'm so sorry I didn't text you back! Please ignore my friend. He's a fucking idiot."

I could tell from the silence that Spencer was replaying them in his head to try to make sense of the frantic, slurred speech in his own sleepy state. Once he had gotten the gist of my panic, he started to laugh through a yawn.

"It's fine. You looked like you were having fun."

I couldn't tell if it was jealousy in his voice or something else. Either way, it felt terrible. My insecurities crept through my throat and came out with dramatic overcompensation.

"Yeah right. He held my phone hostage. I was waiting to hear from you and he got jealous or something."

There was an awkward silence on the other side of the phone, and so I continued with only a little tremor in my voice, "I'm glad to see that you got home alright."

Another few seconds of silence followed, but then it was the Spencer I was used to again.

"Yeah. It's less fun without you here, though."

That wasn't supposed to be as romantic as it seemed, I reminded myself. He was just flirting. Typical fuckboy nonsense, uttered to get a rise out of me one way or another. He didn't actually mean to imply that he'd already considered what it might be like for me to have joined him.

Right?

"I can still come if you want," I rushed, looking down at the clock in my car for the first time and grimacing at the revelation that the 'something else' in his tone had, in fact, been exhaustion.

"Although... I'm just now realizing its 2am and I definitely woke you up..."

"Typical," he joked, "you being out late, trying to make me jealous with age-appropriate boys."

My laugh bounced back at me from the walls of the car, and I covered my mouth once I remembered that I was still in a public area.

It was weird to me how whenever I talked to Spencer, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. I'd never felt that way with another person before. Those cheesy romcoms were all starting to make sense, and I hated how powerless that made me feel.

"I was not! Trust me, if I wanted to make you jealous, I could do much better," I humbly stated. It was only a little bit of a threat. "I just don't know why he did that. And of course, that picture, which I had deleted, by the way. He seriously had to get it from another folder. He just likes to torture me, I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat from the other side of the phone, readjusting before he clearly enunciated, "He likes you."

The statement wasn't shocking. Anyone who'd spent more than five minutes with the two of us knew that he probably liked me. I'd even considered exploring it at one point before smacking myself in the face and reminding myself of my standards.

But still, to have Spencer know that felt a little bit weird. After all, most 20-something boys would do anything to torture their friends. Even the girl ones. Especially the girl ones.

Then something else began to brew in my chest; a twisted sort of pleasure derived from the sharpness that had formed on Spencer's tongue. The jealousy creeping through the crackling static and wrapping its talons around my heart.

"... I don't know," I absently said.

He sensed the hesitancy in my voice, and asked back with a strange inflection, "Do you like him?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, closing my eyes as I dropped my head back against the headrest. I didn't want to answer that question honestly. I felt like nothing I said could be right. So, I just chose the closest thing to the truth.

"No, not really."

We were back in one of those awkward silences. The kind where we both wanted to say something, but nothing came out. I turned my car on when the stale, stagnant air became too suffocating. The sound alerted him to enough information for him to speak again.

"Are you heading home?"

I switched my phone to the other hand, trying to delay giving my answer by sounding busy. I didn't really have a reason, I just hadn't wanted to hang up yet.I wanted to stall him and selfishly keep him around just a little bit longer.

"Yeah, I guess."

Super smooth. I could still salvage it though.

"...Unless you've changed your mind and would like a personal space heater in bed with you."

Spencer's laughter would have been offensive if it wasn't so adorable.

"Yeah right, your feet are freezing. I don't even know how you still have toes."

That checked out, and also gave me an escape from the terrifying prospect of ending the call.

"I'll wear socks!" I offered with the utmost enthusiasm, "I actually own thigh highs, you know. If you're into that, Professor."

It had been a few weeks since our tryst, but I had hardly ever stopped thinking about it. Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, I'd traced the marks he'd left behind with an ungodly powerful nostalgia.

His laughter turned to frustrated groans as he mumbled, "Are you trying to torture me?"

Once our ruckus died back down, the silence was more serious than strange. I felt the urge to apologize again. I needed him to hear the sincerity behind what were so often empty words.

"I'm really sorry I missed your message, Spencer."

My voice was quiet, unsure, and scared. I didn't want to lose him, and I knew an extreme on either side of the emotional spectrum would let him slip away so easily.

It was exhausting being emotionally lukewarm, but some part of me wanted to believe that it would be worth it with him. That patience was all it would take to show him why he had nothing to be afraid of.

But where I showed mercy, he showed himself to lack it in any sense of the word.

"It's fine, (y/n). I'm not your boyfriend. If I really want the company, I can find it."

That wasn't why I was sorry, and what he'd said only made it worse. The ugly, resentful part of myself was convinced that was why he'd said it at all.

We both knew I didn't want him to find it with someone else. That was the entire reason I was sorry I missed it. If I missed his call, nothing was stopping him from making another one. I hadn't ever asked if there were other girls in his life, but I definitely didn't want to find out like that.

"I missed you the past couple weeks. I still do."

The genuineness in my voice scared me. I hated being vulnerable; especially when he was already so apprehensive about me. I wished I knew why he was. But at that moment, he was being his usual playful self, not willing to give me any hint of an answer in exchange for my candor.

No, just: "You're so good at whining."

I pouted like he would be able to see it.

"I just want some cuddles. Is that too much to ask?"

"Go ask your boyfriend, I'm sure he would be more than happy to oblige," he quipped.

"He's not as good at it as you are," I deflected, playing off the suddenly obvious jealousy in his tone. Before I could rub my quick wit in his face, however, Spencer raised a white flag that I'd never seen coming.

"Fine. I'll wait up."

That was when I realized that he had been more jealous than I'd thought, and I still had a startling amount of power to play with.

But I was still unable to comprehend it, and with a graceless gasp, I chirped, "Wait really? I can come over?"

An unsure laugh and an almost audible shrug later, he responded, "Sure, I figure it'll get me to bed faster somehow, as opposed to staying on this call."

I didn't hesitate to start to pull my car out of the spot, happily singing into the phone, "Okay! I'm on my way! Bye Spencer!"

"See you soon."

—————————————————

As I was old enough to be able to tell time, and aware enough to recognize that it was incredibly too late to be knocking on an apartment door, I tried to do so softly. I halfway succeeded, stifling the noise enough that he could still hear it, but his neighbors wouldn't. They would remain unaware of the girl bouncing on her toes outside of his door, squealing the second she heard shuffling feet on the other side.

Jesus Christ, I sound like a teenager, the more sensible side of me noted.

I might've felt shame, had he not opened the door in that very moment to reveal himself, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and pajamas on that were big enough they his half his hands.

He was... in a word, adorable.

"Hey sleepyhead," I cooed.

Spencer remained silent, but offered his arm in a halfhearted invitation for a hug. The blanket hung like a wing that I very much wanted to wrap myself in, and he was all too happy to allow. I actually giggled as I lunged towards him. I wrapped both arms around him and breathed in the clean scent of laundry detergent and soap.

"I'm sleepy, too," I said with a relieved sigh. The air was quickly replaced with that which smelled of him. So, too, the silence filled with a soft chuckle as he pulled me close to him and rested his chin on the top of my head.

Like a man from a fairy tale, he started to sway, slowly turning us around until we were headed in the right direction. The right one, of course being the one that would lead to us falling in bed together again.

"Alright, little girl, you can come crawl into bed with me tonight."

The words were like music to my ears, and I felt like I was floating. I was glowing, my skin flushed with warmth like a wood fire on a cold Winter night, and my eyes fell half lidded from some mixture of tired and pleased.

"Thank you, sir," I slurred through a smile. It grew wider as he took my hands, prying me away from him to lead me back to his room with more purpose.

Once we finally padded over, I dropped my overnight bag on the floor and began to strip off my shirt. He eyed the bag on the floor with a feeling I could almost place.

"Were you planning on staying with him?"

I felt a pain through my chest as he asked, because I knew the answer. I had been, but only because I'd done it so many times before. Our mutual friend wasn't in the house, so I knew I could use his bed. But saying I was planning on staying there alone sounded even more suspicious.

"Yeah. I've stayed there before. Always in a different room. We've been friends a long time."

There was something about the way he looked at me that made my stomach flip in a delicious way. A feeling that could only be described as dangerous and exhilarating. But then it was gone, replaced by the apathy he usually tried to display. I continued to strip, nonetheless, slowly peeling my leggings down and stepping out of them. I could feel his eyes on me.

I twisted by body in the hope that the movement would distract him from the conversation I hadn't really wanted to have. Jealousy, while a fun tool for the consenting, had a tendency to grow old quickly. It was a beast that did not like to be controlled; especially when taken by surprise.

But he had no reason to be jealous. I had all but begged him to come over, and I was currently naked in his bedroom. I didn't even look up at him before sliding under the covers. I was too scared for what I might find, and opted for enjoying the lingering body heat and smell of Spencer on the sheet, instead.

"I don't want to know how good you are when you're trying," he warned.

I looked up at him with guilty eyes, recognizing this was his gentle way of telling me he was jealous. But he'd said it himself... He wasn't my boyfriend.

"Come here," I pleaded while running my arms along the empty space where he belonged. "I'll show you why you shouldn't be jealous."

Spencer licked his lips as he looked at my exposed chest, pulling off his pajamas and slinking under the covers with me. Facing each other, my hands quickly found his erection, pumping it softly as he immediately rewarded me with a soft moan.

"I missed this," I whispered, closing the gap between our faces.

He responded in kind, taking his time to lay a lazy kiss against my mouth while he groaned, "I missed your hands. Among other parts."

As he spoke, his hand was traveling down my side to my center. My breathing picked up as he got closer, but he diverted, running his fingers up and down my arms that continued to work his length. The soft whimper that escaped my mouth entertained him, and he brought his hand back down.

"Say please, (y/n)."

I couldn't talk though. I was biting down on my lip to stop myself from telling him I fucking hated him for teasing me. With big puppy dog eyes, I watched him while I chewed on my bottom lip.

"Stop biting on that lip or I'll do it for you. I don't care how cute you are."

His hand now ghosted over exactly where I wanted them, and he used the very tip of his finger to collect the wetness forming there. My hands stopped as he made contact, my grip tightening for a second.

"Say please."

He wanted me to beg for him to touch me, but I didn't want his hand. It was almost 3 AM and I was exhausted and needed him. All of him, immediately. Badly enough that

"Fuck me, sir," the words spilled out of my mouth. "Please, fuck me."

A content humming came from him as he brought a hand to my hair. But the pleased sound lulled me into a false sense of security, which was shattered seconds later when he pulled my head back to look him in the eyes.

From there, I could see that look in his eyes again. That dark, possessive stare that made me long for the shadows to consume me if it meant more time with him.

"I p-promise," I stuttered as one of his fingers teased at my folds.

He raised his eyebrows as he waited for me to finish my thought.

With a cruel, sadistic smile, I continued, "I promise I won't think of anyone else."

That playful characteristic snark that has originally driven him to me had returned, and he pretended to be disappointed. He liked it, though. He wouldn't admit it, but the way I read the secret, hidden thoughts in his mind like he could read one of his book clearly drove him insane.

He guided me by his hold on my hair, lifting me off the pillow and not taking a minute to consider the repercussions before growling in my ear, "Turn around."

I obeyed, happily pressing up against his crotch as I settled into my position as his little spoon. I noticed a distinct lack of a pause this time, and gears began to click together as I felt him rub the bare head of his cock in the slickness pooling around my thighs.

"I have some questions for you, little girl."

He was pissed.

"When was the last time you got tested?"

I could hardly think straight as I realized where this was going. I tried to gather my thoughts and enough control to stutter back, "L-last week. I-I haven't... haven't slept with anyone else. Not since you."

My answer earned me a tender kiss on the neck, but it wasn't enough. I was trying to still my hips from knocking back against him. I couldn't completely stop myself, though, and I knew it made him feel even more confident about his decision.

"Good. Me neither," he replied.

I sighed with relief, happy to at least answer that question. I'd barely had any time to recover, though, before he continued, "Is there any way you could get pregnant right now?"

I shook my head no. He stopped my head with one hand on my chin from behind.

"Use your words."

"No!" I half shouted, realizing I just sounded like a brat. "No, no I can't. I'm on birth control. I won't get pregnant. Promise. You can..."

My breath matched pace with my heart, and I swore I was already lightheaded. Still, I forced the last few words through the heavy panting to earn my next, far more enticing prize. The magic words he had been waiting for:

"You can do whatever you want to me."

When he released my hair, my head fell forward just for a second, because soon my entire back arched in response to the way he began to push inside of me.

"Good," was all he'd said.

With that, he fully sheathed himself inside of me, and I cried out as I felt the way he stretched me. His hand swiftly covered my mouth before he began to pound into me from behind. One of my hands tried to keep me in place on the bed, while the other flew up to his hand over my mouth, holding it without trying to remove it.

I was calling his name underneath him, and he responded by making shorter, deeper thrusts.

Through it all, he chuckled in my ear, "It's always funny how fast you stop acting like a brat after I put it in you."

My eyes rolled back at his words, breath shuddering against his hand. He slid all the way out of me, and then applied enough force to push me up in the bed.

"Have you ever had someone finish inside you before?" he asked too sweetly for the provocative words. He moved his hand from my mouth and dragged it to move the hair that had fallen in front of my face.

I went to shake my head but remembered his instruction. Instead, I cried, "N-no."

"Good," he responded again, and my toes curled at the pride he felt in claiming this body as his own. He took my hand in his, pulling it down to feel the small bump forming in my abdomen each time he slammed into me. The next time it appeared, he halted, holding me in position against him. "I'm going to fuck you so hard that the next time anyone even thinks about touching you, all they'll taste on you is me."

He pulled out slowly before pounding into me again. With more violence in his motions and venom on his tongue, he spat, "and if you want them you can explain to them how you begged for me to come inside your tight little cunt."

I was in a state of shock, unable to comprehend how he was capable of making such cruel, licentious words. Each one made my body shake, and he kept himself inside me longer with each motion to extend the feeling. I ached at the way he filled me, desperately clinging to my own stomach where I could feel him.

"Good luck thinking about anyone else while I run down your thighs," he said before punctuating it with a firm, unforgiving, "you fucking bitch."

With that, he finally moved his hand, but it was not a merciful action. His fingers rubbed in the mess of our bodies, then dragged the wetness back to my clit, pressing harder than he ever had before. My head was still swimming from his language, and I thankfully didn't have to use my words. He was very capable of figuring out my body language himself.

I could feel the way the heat coiled in my stomach, the tension building as his mouth ran along my neck. Once he attached himself to one spot, driving into me at a brutal pace, I felt the energy shift and begin to blossom. Feeling the way my muscles quivered around him, he stopped his kisses, groaning loudly in my ear.

"Fuck, little girl," he continued to moan, his thrusts faltering as I tried to coax his orgasm out of him. It seemed to be what he was waiting for. Unable to contain the shrill cry that tore from my chest as his arousal filled me, I tried to pull away from him. But I couldn't, his hands holding me down and his hips rocking as deep as they could possibly move inside of me.

Exhausted, I tried to move away from him once his movements stilled. However, in another surprising move he slid out just to slam back into me again.

I whimpered from the overstimulation, doubling forward as he gave a few more deep, rough thrusts before pulling out entirely.

I had no idea how, but Spencer immediately got out of bed. He left me a sweaty, desperate mess on his bed. Thankfully, he tossed me a towel to help me clean up so I wouldn't have to sleep in the puddle dripping slowly down my legs. Shaky but satisfied, I somehow managed to make it to the bathroom and clean up.

When I returned, he was still awake. He was silent, sitting up in the bed with his eyes closed and contemplative. As I shut the door, he finally noticed my presence. He turned to look at me with an awkward smile until he pat my spot on the bed.

"Come here, little girl."

A little too excited, I shuffled over with a bounce in my step. Not satisfied with simply lying next to him, I curled into his side, wrapping my arm around his waist and nuzzling my face to his chest. From there, I listened to the way his heartbeat seemed to slow down with my touch. How his muscles relaxed under me, like he had been anxiously awaiting my return the same way I had been waiting to return to him.

"You're not really a bitch," he mumbled in a quiet, sleepy voice.

I couldn't help but laugh, tilting my head up to glance at him from my position on his chest.

"I mean, I am a little bit. But I know what you mean."

He wrapped a tight arm around me, using his hand to run softly through my hair. Leaning down, he gave the top of my head a small peck. I smiled against his skin, loving the way it felt to be surrounded by him. To be safe and cared for despite all else.

"Thank you for coming here with me tonight," he said in a low volume, like the words might spook me. "You're a very special girl. I hope you know that."

I didn't know how to respond, so I stayed frozen in place. I waited to hear the rest of what he wanted to say. People have always said we're most honest at night. I wanted it to be true, to give more meaning to loaded words.

"I'm really glad I met you," was what he said.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the words that felt like a balm on my aching soul. Unable to come up with a response that wasn't terrifying, though, I sat up and crawled to him. It was my turn to return a tender kiss, this time to his lips. As we pulled apart, he still looked at me like the answers to the universe were written on my skin.

I went to kiss him again, but he stopped me with a hand on my face.

"Don't..." he instructed, breaking my heart with just one command.

But I saw the fear reflected in our eyes, the kind that was deeper than a simple rejection. It was not the fear that we might not love one another. It was the fear that we very well might one day.

Spencer said none of that, though. He left me to forever wonder if it was just me who felt it. Instead, he surrendered with a simpler, safer explanation.

"If you kiss me like that again, I won't be able to stop myself."

I didn't ask what he was stopping himself from doing. No matter how badly I wanted to. Instead, I ran the back of my fingers against his cheek and whispered in the space between us, "Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again."

My desired outcome came true, but not quite how I wanted. He didn't kiss me deep or passionately. He kissed me soft, like my lips were made of glass. He kissed me like he was protecting me from the terrors of his mind.

"Go to sleep, little girl," he instructed gently, coaxing me back to my position on his chest as we both sunk down to lay flat on the bed. "Picard can wait."

Laying there, next to what I was convinced was an actual human angel, I gave myself permission to drift off into sleep, hoping that my dreams could be half as good as reality.

That didn't happen.

I wasn't sure what time it was when I woke up, but it was still dark outside, so it couldn't have been too long after we'd fallen asleep. Spencer had turned away from me at some point. That wasn't strange or entirely surprising, but I noticed a strange sound from his side of the bed that made my hair stand on edge and my stomach churn.

It was... crying.

"Spencer?" I asked as quiet as I could. When he didn't respond, I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder in the hope that it would be an easier transition to the waking word.

But his body still jerked under my touch, and he sat up much too quickly before grabbing his face in both hands. It wasn't until then that he noticed, drawing his hands back slowly and inspecting the wetness he found on his fingertips.

"Hey, Spencer, are you okay?"

He didn't answer.

Suddenly extremely worried, I brought both of my hands to his arms and pulled him closer to me.

He still didn't answer.

"Were you having a nightmare?"

So many red flags were burning through my brain, and I didn't know what to do with the information in front of me. I just wanted to help him.

"I... I must have been. I'm sorry," he said when he finally spoke. He wiped at his tears like he could erase what I had already seen. Moving his hands away, careful to keep my touch as non-threatening as possible, I wiped his still falling tears away with my thumb.

"Why are you sorry, Spencer?"

"I... don't know."

It was an honest, but terrifying answer. A quickly completed checklist of a horror I was deeply familiar with. A reality that I wouldn't wish it on anyone in the world. Especially not him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he replied with a force so strong I thought the word was physically painful for him to say.

"Okay," I reassured him, "We don't have to."

He wasn't laying back down. He wasn't moving at all. It was like he was somewhere else entirely.

I moved closer to him, placing a hand on his back to gently rub circles and another on his lap. I offered the only thing I could think to help him in that moment.

"Do you want me to hold you?"

His eyes were fixated on my hand on his lap, his breathing slowly regulating the longer we sat like this.

Still, he halfway refused, "It's okay."

Raising my hand again, I ran it through his hair before guiding him to look at me with a tentative smile.

"You're not a burden, Spencer. I want to."

The tears were falling again, albeit slower and with his mouth curved ever so slightly. I tried to give him the calmest reassurance I could. A soft glow in my eyes that burned with the affection and comfort I desperately wanted to provide.

"Come here, love," I said as I motioned to me.

Spencer dutifully followed. Soon his head was on my chest, my hand curling his hair around my fingers. He hugged my waist like I was the only thing keeping him here.

And I laid there with him, trying not to think about the way his tears wet my skin. Hoping that, for now, it would be enough for him to get some sleep.

A mop of curly brown hair was the first thing I saw when I woke up to the shine of the sun through the curtains. I smiled, but only until I remembered why he was on my chest.

It was obvious that he had barely slept, his muscles continuing to persistently twitch in their paranoid state. When I went to pet his head again, he stirred under me, pulling himself closer to me the same way he had before.

I didn't want to think about what had happened, but I knew I had to. Normal people don't wake up crying from a nightmare, and they certainly don't get painfully defensive when it happens.

I hadn't known practically anything about his life before. What he had been through, or whether he'd told anyone at all. I hadn't even known if he'd anyone to tell.

I was painfully reminded that he was not the superhero I made him out to be in my head. He was just a man, trying his hardest to do more good in the world than all the evil combined. That was an impossible task, though. He was doomed to fail.

His ears must have been burning, because the longer I thought about it, the more he woke up. Eventually he was entirely alert, sitting up and removing himself from the position we'd assumed for the past several hours.

I was surprised to remember what it felt like to be able to breathe without the weight of him on top of me. I was even more surprised to feel my chest felt heavier in his absence.

"Good morning," I mumbled, watching as he effortlessly got out of bed and began to get ready.

He seemed embarrassed, but he really shouldn't have been.

"Did you get any sleep?"I asked.

Spencer ran his hands through his hair before he turned back to me, a smile on his face like nothing was wrong.

"No," he sighed, "This brat woke me up at 2 AM and insisted I sleep with her."

It was nice to know he was still capable of joking but concerning to see that he was so good at compartmentalizing. I laughed along with him, nonetheless, sliding out of the bed to join him in getting dressed.

"What a bitch," I said with a smirk.

As hard as it was to pretend like the night before hadn't happened, I knew that he wasn't ready to talk about it. Heaven knew it would have been much worse to burn the bridge then. At least if I built the trust now, he might be willing to talk about it later.

"You know, I wasn't actually going to tell you to come over last night," Spencer announced.

The 360 of the conversation took me by surprise, and I blinked rapidly to try and reorient myself.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, I'm glad you did. But I was actually going to ask you if you're free tonight."

Spencer was nothing if not an emotional rollercoaster demanding passengers before 10AM. Ready to roll bright and fuckin' early.

"Yeah, I am. If you're still wondering," I answered in place of the multitude of questions I hadn't been ready to ask yet. Questions like, why was he wondering? Why did he need to schedule this? Was this another 'not-a-date' date?

"I wanted to take you somewhere," he mentioned casually, finally fully dressed while I still struggled to put on my clothes.

"Where?"

"It's a surprise," he said with raised eyebrows, like he was so very proud of himself.

I'd let him have that one, but only because he was so damn cute.

"Fine. That means I have to go home to get cleaned up first, then."

He seemed only a little disappointed by that, but overall acquiesced. I was a little sad about it, too, but remained confident in the old adage that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Besides, I wanted to look cute for my surprise.

We hadn't talked much before I left. I could tell he was still struggling with coming to terms with what he'd accidentally revealed to me in the middle of the night.

Honestly, it was a good thing I left. The desire to talk about it was overwhelming, and some things are better left unsaid...

For now, I promised myself. Just for now.

—————————————————

Spencer came to pick me up without a hitch. When I climbed into his car, I fully expected him to not tell me where we were going. I was right; he didn't. Of course, after about 30 minutes I recognized the route we were going. When I'd graciously pointed it out to him with increasingly less subtle suggestions, he still refused to give me a single hint.

That was, until we pulled into Observatory parking lot.

"I've never been here before!" I squeaked. My excitement had been obvious enough with the embarrassing crack, and Spencer's interest in my enthusiasm only grew.

He was looking at me with that soft, slightly saccharine smile.

"I figured. You aren't nerdy enough to go by yourself," he chuckled. The genuineness behind the sound made the already excited butterflies in my stomach begin to swarm.

"Hey, I can be cultured too, you know," I still corrected with the worst posh accent you've ever heard.

With a teasing smile on his face, the stupid man chose to look away rather than to admit his honest reaction to the statement.

Asshole, I thought, only to be proven wrong seconds later. Forever a gentleman, Spencer joined me on my side of the car and took utmost care and attention to help me out from my seat.

It felt strange, to adorn his arm like something beautiful as we gazed at the stars together. I tried not to think about it, but wondered just how far he was willing to risk being seen with me in an undoubtedly romantic setting.

"Isn't this place usually closed to the public? I know they have limited general admission days," I asked, despite already knowing the answer. I just wanted to see if my hunch was correct.

"Yeah, I might have called in a favor or two."

Fuck, was my first thought. The next twelve thoughts, however, were all reiterations of 'Don't get your hopes up.'

My grip on his arm tightened, but he didn't seem to mind. I'd guessed that his nonchalance was entirely due to the private nature of the excursion, but I wasn't going to ask, and I certainly wouldn't complain. I was happy enough that he'd brought me, even if he wasn't ready to admit why. I could be patient. Sometimes.

Once inside, Spencer knew exactly where to go. I watched in awe at how many people knew who he was, and how much they looked up to him. While I had also always been impressed by him, it'd become easy to forget just how impressive he was when all the time we'd spent together was so far away from the rest of the world.

But Spencer's quiet humility certainly wasn't an issue that night. He spent nearly two hours walking me through what ended up being essentially all the stars in the sky. Much like the museum, it consisted of me adoring both the content of his words and the man himself.

He told me the story of the vain Queen Cassiopeia and her doting husband Cepheus, still holding each other in the stars millennia later. He spoke enthusiastically and with no sense of pacing. Half the time my eyes left the telescope, turning instead to marvel at the way he moved his hands and fidgeted with his hair as his voice tumbled out of him like it couldn't be contained.

It was just the two of us in the room when he finished, the dim lights and quiet ambiance catching up with me as I stared at him with all the reverence in the universe above us. He eventually finished his thoughts on Perseus and Andromeda, and I could tell by the look on his face that their love story meant something to him.

"You're quite the romantic, Dr. Reid."

He seemed surprised by the sentiment, like it was something he'd never heard before, and now he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. So, he simply laughed awkwardly and moved closer to peer into the telescope.

Whether it was because he felt a stronger connection to the extraterrestrial, or because he simply didn't want me to see that he was blushing, I didn't mind either way. A few less seconds under the scrutiny of his gaze would do my heart well.

"Not sure many people would use that word," he said under his breath when he worked up the courage to speak.

"Well, I did," I replied much more confidently.

He was smiling but trying to hide it the same as the pink hue to his cheeks.

"You said you were 14 when you went to college, right?" I said with narrow eyes, trying to read him from under the large machine.

"Yeah," he responded with an equal dose of caution, "... why?"

"Probably didn't go to prom then, huh?"

His answer was obvious from the way his entire body jumped. Knocking his head on the telescope as he rushed to give an answer, all his mouth would produced was a long, dumb, "Uhhh."

I knew he was about to try to run away. Before he could, I stopped him. With both hands on his arm, I kept him close. Eventually, his muscles gave in and accepted my embrace.

"Come on; dance with me," I begged.

He looked around the room for an excuse. There was no one there, just the two of us on arguably the most heartwarming date I've ever been on in my life.

"There's no music," he scrambled, eventually admitting, "aaand I can't dance."

Ignoring the pitter-pattering of a childish, lovesick heart, I laughed.

"I can teach you, Dr. Reid."

We both knew he wasn't getting out of this one. As I hopped down from the stool, I revealed my secret weapon from my pocket. I pulled up a playlist that I knew would suit him and the setting, and I held out my hand in an invitation that couldn't be refused.

"I have all the world of music at my fingertips. Now I just need you. "

Spencer groaned, but behind it all I saw an undeniable happiness. When he put his hand in mine, it too felt like warmth and safety. I took it with an even brighter grin, immediately bringing him closer to sway slowly to the music coming from my phone now seated on the stool.

The acoustics of the room let the music flow through, and within moments we had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. My cheek rested against his chest and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You lied to me, Dr. Reid. You definitely know how to dance."

"Okay, but does it really count if you've only ever done it with your mom?" he asked.

I threw my head back as I laughed, and he joined me. The two of us shamelessly filled the large room with a warmth not entirely unlike a far away star.

"Don't laugh at me!" he pouted, but I think he actually enjoyed the sound.

"I'm sorry," I whined, "you're just so fucking cute I don't know how to handle it."

Finally able to stifle the joyous sounds, I looked up at him with even more fascination than I'd showed the stars. I'm not sure what I had expected, but it wasn't what I'd found. Because Spencer's eyes were like mirrors facing the sun; reflecting the passions I spewed so carelessly right back at me.

"There are over a million words in the English language, and I still can't think of a single combination to explain how I feel about you."

Just like that, he'd stolen my breath and my sense. My smile fell into a look of smitten shock, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't convince my heart to fall back into its rhythm.

"I-I'm surprised you don't know the exact number," I said with an awkward chuckle.

"Well, some estimate that it's 1,025,109, but new words are created constantly, and it would depend on what actually counts as a new word. Not to mention the different dialects, words that have fallen out of common use, or words that may be used for entirely different purposes despite being the same."

I raised my eyebrows, not at all surprised that he had an answer, but excited to hear it, nonetheless.

"But it doesn't matter," he whispered, impervious to just how much he was breaking my heart. "Because no matter the number, I know it won't be enough."

My eyes lit up like the stars we had just spent hours staring at, and I wondered if he could tell. He must have. Because his hand on my hip pulled me closer, and our hands intertwined as our pace slowed to a stop. Our breath was unsteady as he came closer to me, pausing just before our lips touched.

We shared the oxygen between us, daring the other to do what we both know we shouldn't.

So I did, leaning up to kiss him as my hand slid up his arm and around his neck. His hesitation melted into the embrace, our tongues gently sharing space in an entirely new way.

I thought to the millions of stars in the sky, realizing that I shared Spencer's skepticism of an unknown number. Because no matter how many stars there were, I knew there would never be enough to outshine that moment between the two of us.

It was not a hurried or excited kiss. It was an amorous, amazing promise of a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that they wrote about in Corinthians. It was patient and kind. It was not proud nor self-seeking. Spencer's free hand held my face against his; the way they wrote that love always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.

Did he feel the way he was kissing me? Because I had.

I felt it like a storm, the breeze blowing the air from my lungs and breaking down the walls around me. I held onto him and this moment, scared of what this meant for us. How could I pretend like we were just friends when I shook for days at his touch?

That was why I was the one to end the kiss, looking down away from him as I did. A soft, defeated chuckle as I took a deep breath. When our eyes met again, I lowered my arms to his chest, listening to the soft tunes still floating through the room.

"We should go home now," I whispered.

He was reading my reactions; I could feel it. And in doing so, he had lowered his own walls too far. I could see them behind his eyes.

My voice shook as I continued, "... before you do something else to try and make me fall in love with you."

Spencer didn't look scared as he replied with a cheeky little grin, "Why, is it working?"

I almost passed out at the way his eyes softened at my goofy smile.

"I'm kidding," he immediately followed.

I rolled my eyes at the absolute bullshit of a lie. I tried to play it off like it was nothing, but my heart felt like it would fall out of my chest. I tried not to think about it too hard as we made our way back to the car.

As he helped me in, I realized that we were really going to continue acting like none of that just happened. I tried to think of how that kiss we shared could be written off, but I couldn't. That was not the kind of kiss between friends. It was not the kind of kiss between strangers.

It was a kiss of the kind we both implicitly promised not to talk about.

Once the trip home had begun, I gathered the courage to tread lightly.

"So, what was the fantasy for tonight?" I innocently asked.

A little confused, he glanced over at me, careful not to take his eyes off the road.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've found each time we're together there's some sexual component," I chuckled. "This is pretty far from home, and you seemed very into it. I was just wondering what inspired this trip."

I was trying to avoid obviously ogling his reactions by shifting my eyes from him every few seconds. I had leaned against the door, surprised by just how tired I really was. He was doing that thing where he weighed his words again.

Eventually, he shrugged. That softness returning to his features from before, he began, "To be honest, (y/n)..."

Please, don't break my heart, I begged to that beautiful man.

Actually turning his head entirely to me, he spoke through a delicate smile, "I just wanted to look at the stars with you."

Goddammit.

The stars returned to my eyes, and I could see them reflected in his. My heart sped up to prepare for the panic as I realized that it was definitely too late for us. Because his efforts were working. They had been working all along, and I never tried to stop them.

As I drifted off to sleep in the comfortable silence of our company, I couldn't ignore the obvious:

I think I'm in love with Spencer Reid and I think he's starting to love me, too.

But we couldn't just love each other in isolation, and I wasn't sure he was ready to make that leap with me. In fact, I knew he wasn't. I still knew basically nothing about him, and he knew virtually nothing about me. How could it be then, that our souls felt so at home with each other?

Which would hurt more? Finding out he didn't love me, or that he did... and just wishes he didn't?

—————————————————

| Part 6 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #h2m #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #smut

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Note

I really liked the Papa III x F! S/o where the s/o was a typical shy and cute introvert, but this huge dork with those closer to her. Would it be alright if I requested the same with our dear Papa Copia (god I’m so happy to call him papa now :) )

Of course, nonny! Let’s get some sweet Papa IV up in here.

(Reference Prompt here. 😊)

Copia notices you because of your quiet nature. There are lots of Siblings that are vying for his attention and favors…and then there you are: sitting quietly during mass and reading the hymn book.

(He doesn’t have to know that you’ve been reading the same page the whole time while you admire him from out of the corner of your eyes.)

Every time he looks out, all he sees is your quiet dignity, and it speaks to him on such a personal level. While he’s grown to enjoy and embrace the showmanship of the Ghost project, he’s not a natural extrovert. So, when he sees you existing in your subdued state, he can’t help but yearn to be right there with you.

He sees you reading your book in the quad on a nice day, and he immediately pictures himself with his head in your lap as you read to him. When he spies you daydreaming in the library, he imagines what it would be like to play footsie with you under the table. As he comes across you sweeping the halls with your headphones on, he pictures giving you a homemade mixtape to listen to while you work.

Really, he wants to worm his way into the rich inner life he knows you must have.

He never does anything about it, though—in his mind you’ve been perfectly clear about your indifference to him. And he’d rather not stammer through an invitation that you’re only going to reject.

The mess hall is always a sticking point for Copia. He loves the attention—he does; it amuses him to watch the Siblings fight over who acquires his meal and who gets sits next to him. He’s still a man with an ego, and he likes it to be stroked.

But.

Some days, the whole scene just gives him a headache. On days just after an important sermon, or when he’s just back from tour, or when he’s spent the morning on a stack of paper Imperator has given him, “ASAP now, please, Papa”—it’s simply too much for him to have to be On for his admirers.

On those days, he has his Ghouls create a distraction (and Dew is always more than happy to set a fire) so that he can get in and get out with no one noticing. Then, he tries to find a quiet, out of the way place to eat his food in peace.

And that’s how he encounters you cavorting about with your friends.

You're out on the grounds because it's a fine spring day, and he can't believe that his this reserved, demure Sister is running about and chasing her fellow sister with a worm! You're laughing—not a coy titter, but a full belly laugh after you make a ribald joke about Imperator and a Brother!

Copia gapes.

You have a secret side that only your intimates know about? Well! It’s a circle he desperately wants to be a part of! (Even if he’s contractually not allowed to jest about the Seestor.)

He imagines your laugh ringing out in his quarters as you let his babies crawl all over you (someone who doesn’t mind worms surely wouldn’t mind rats, yes?), and how you'd make him laugh with your uncouth humor. He can almost taste the domesticity.

But…he decides to stay out of sight—he doesn't want to ruin the party (which he’s sadly come to realize that, as Papa, he does quite often just by virtue of his presence)—and that’s when he realizes he actually has a hope.

You’re lying back in the grass, watching the clouds roll by, and you say,

“Hey, that one looks like a rat,” to which your friend responds, “That’s just cuz you have Popia on the brain.”

“I do not!”

“You think he’s gOrGeOUs, you want to KisS him, you want hUG him,” he singsongs.

“Shut it!” you screech as your face flushes and you throw a balled up napkin at him.

He blocks it easily, and you lie back down with a huff.

“Whatever. He doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

Embarrassingly, the conversation shifts to how you’ve done it to yourself and if you’d just look at Copia instead of doing your best impression of a church mouse, that would be a good start.

Your face burns the whole time. I mean, having his intense focus just on you?

You shudder.

Surely you’d combust.

Copia bites his fist.

He could…? Have you??

***

Perhaps any of the other Papas would have been on you like white on rice…but research has always been more Copia’s thing.

Which means he spends the next few weeks slinking about like a bad spy (seriously—he might as well have on Groucho Marx glasses) trying to figure out what all your favs and interests are.

And the Siblings are beginning to talk about it.

“He was behind a column, and I thought he was a statue,” hisses one. “He moved, and it scared the crap out of me!”

“I saw him petting the potted plants in the west corridor like a weirdo,” whispers another. “I hope Primo doesn’t hear about it!”

“I went into the broom closet to get cleaning supplies, and when I pulled the light on, he was just…standing there!” laughs someone else. “I was too surprised to be startled. He just coughed and excused himself!”

The only weird thing to you is that you seem to be the only Sibling who hasn’t witnessed Copia being adorable odd.

You often sit by that pillar to read when it’s chilly outside, and that area in the west corridor is where you sweep. Heaven!—that broom closet is next to the wash station you use! How haven’t you seen him even once?

Dew thinks this is great fun. He’s been suggesting even more ridiculous schemes (that Swiss and he giggle about back in the Ghoul dorms) for Copia to “overhear” you and your party—which Copia is taking down in earnest.

Aether thinks Copia’s being a dumbass and guesses he and the girls will have to fix this mess. Cirrus thinks Copia just needs to learn the hard way (“He’s taking advice from Dew—how does he not know better?!”), but Cumulus agrees. The two of them coral Copia into the practice space where they firmly, but gently, tell him to stop pussyfooting around and just kiss the girl already!

Copia stutters out a series of awkward rat noises before simply nodding.

“I have been procrastinating, eh?”

“You can do it, Boss.”

“Who’s the best Papa!”

Copia straightens his posture. “I am.”

***

You’re staring out the window in the classroom—woolgathering instead of dusting—when you hear a quiet throat clear behind you. You nearly jump out of your skin and hurriedly turn to make your excuses.

What you’re expecting is Sister Imperator on one of her shadow runs—but what you see is a one (1) Papa in his casual blacks (that still seem vacuum-sealed onto him) looking at you with eyes full of mirth.

It’s with great effort that you yank your eyes from his thighs up to his face.

“Oh! Your Dark Excellency, sir! I-I-I…” you stutter before composing yourself. “If you need the room…?”

A smirk turns up one side of his lips as his white eye twinkles at you.

“It is you I wish to be seeing.”

You toss the duster to the side and smooth down your habit.

“M-me?”

“Sí.”

Did you do something wrong??

You worry nervously at the sides of your habit.

“I—” Copia starts, then suddenly looks unsure. He runs his hands over his head, smoothing his thick hair back into place.

He starts again, his speech clipped and formal.

“Would you do me the honor, Sister, of joining me for dinner?”

“I—dinner?” Like a staff dinner? Or...?

Copia blinks at you.

“I am asking you on a date.”

You blink right back.

Just you and him? Alone…

His face turns into lines of apprehension.

“Mi scusi—perhaps I am mistaken.”

He starts to back away, and you finally find your voice.

“Wait!”

When he stops, you gulp and take a deep breath.

“I would like that, Your Dark Excellency.”

A look of relief smooths his worried expression right before he smiles at you.

“Ah…‘Papa’ is fine, Sister.”

He takes his leave of you, closing the door behind him.

You manage to hold yourself together for another moment before you let out a loud whoop and jump up and down (and unbeknownst to you, Copia is standing just outside the door, beaming).

***

Dinner went over smashingly (literally—between the nervous energy of two of you, a plate, a goblet, and a wine bottle all ended up in pieces). Copia was the perfect mix between awkward rat man and smooth Papa, and you felt comfortable enough to engage easily in conversation with him.

You’d been a little trepidatious about after dinner (Copia certainly had not absented himself from the pleasures afforded to a Papa), but the only thing you’d done in his quarters was to meet his rats.

He’d walked you back to your room, then asked if he could kiss you. It was just a press of his lips to yours as he’d cupped your cheek, but it had felt like a promise.

The two of you end up making a perfect couple, actually. Copia, of course, respects your quiet demeanor, but it’s more than that—he understands it. The only time he singles you out is when you need to be his date to a clergy function or Abbey party—and he always gives you forewarnings for those!

On the flipside, you and he have the high capacity to be total dorks. The two of you feed off each other's humor, often being the only two in the room cracking up as you wheeze half-uttered statements at each other while the rest of the gathered looks on with pained expressions.

But neither of you care.

You finally have your Papa, and he’s made all of his imaginings with you a reality.

#asks #papa iv #female reader #fluff

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our-wargame · 3 years

Text

when you say nothing at all

Summary: Dazai isn't called a genius for nothing. No one can self-sabotage better than he can.

Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs) Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Oda Sakunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs), Minor Characters, Sakaguchi Ango (Bungou Stray Dogs) Rating: M (to be safe. In reality it’s T except for the swearing and references to sexual stuff but there’s no actual sexual content) Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Dazai Osamu is a Mess (Bungou Stray Dogs), Developing Relationship, Trust Issues, Slice of Life, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, Self-Worth Issues, References of Sexual Content, As in 0 sex happening, although not for lack of trying on Dazai's part, That's Also His Biggest Mistake, I HATE THAT TAG BUT THAT IS THE FIC, Dazai's pretty trash but his greatest accomplishment, was getting Odasaku to love him Word Count: 2500 Notes:

co-written with SwordintheThrone (they have some ridiculously good shit, check em out.).

can be read on ao3

reblogs are appreciated ty

---

It's a shame that he has commitment issues, Dazai muses to himself. Because Odasaku isn't just the best fuck of his life, Odasaku is good to him.

Too good to him.

That's most of the problem. Odasaku will look at him, expression so gentle, so brilliantly sweet and patient and trusting, as if he doesn't think Dazai will rip him apart at the first sign he sees that as necessary. (Still, sometimes Dazai can stand it. Sometimes he even gives into it and the peace that comes with it hurts like a hell he could learn to adore.)

Is this self-sabotage? He doesn't know. And he's still fucking trash for pushing the issue away and ignoring it as he sends Odasaku a text to ask him if he's still not busy tonight.

Odasaku replies within the hour. I'm not, he confirms. Can I come over?

Dazai tries not to laugh, self-deprecatingly amused rather than annoyed at Odasaku's attempt to save him face. He's not that proud, he really isn't.

He imagines if Odasaku were here, he'd tell Dazai that it has nothing to do with that. That Odasaku really does just want to spend time with him, and that's why during their last encounter, Odasaku casually, lightly mentioned the fact that he was free for the next week. Should they want to do anything.

It is self-sabotage, Dazai comes to decide. Because no matter what Odasaku's intents were, Odasaku is going to end up in Dazai's bed, because Dazai desires it. And then Dazai won't be able to fool himself into either deciding the reason for this outcome is because Odasaku thinks Dazai knows himself well enough to make the right decision, or that Odasaku wants to give Dazai the choice to make bad ones.

Both options are better than thinking Odasaku just wants to fuck him. If he minded, which he doesn't, it'd be his own fault too. Everyone knows that you start texts with can we talk and not are you busy unless you want to bang.

Dazai closes his eyes, already tired of himself, even without having to pretend around Odasaku. He thinks about calling it off but that's rude and it'd make him look weak and it's all a lot more troublesome than going through with what he has so far. It's freezing but somehow, the heater is the one thing he doesn't have the energy to bother with as heg gets off his ass to fix up the apartment. He turns the TV on, keeps the volume nice and low on that channel that only replays old movies. Neither of them are wine people but that's what you're supposed to have for these kinds of occasions, aren't you? So he leaves a half empty bottle of sake on the coffee table. Lounges on the couch as he sips from his glass.

How classy is he.

A knock at the door. Odasaku knows it's already open and only does it to alert Dazai. But he still waits outside until Dazai calls, "Come in." It's so unnecessarily considerate of him, Dazai shivers. And hates Odasaku a little bit, even as he thinks about pushing Odasaku against the door and kissing the gentleman right out of him.

"Hey," Odasaku says as he closes the door behind him gently. He smells like takeout. Looks as rugged and handsome as ever. Dazai wants him so badly.

He moves his eyes to the TV as he puts down his glass so he can refill it. His hands are shaking, fuck. "Day go okay?"

"Yeah." Dazai listens for the sound of fabric shifting, Odasaku hanging his coat up on the hat rack. Soft steps signal Odasaku having taken off his shoes and switched them for slippers, walking light out of habit so they don't clack against the tiled floor. "And yours?"

Dazai's half-distracted with trying to remember the last time they had sex for fun instead of thinking he needed Oda's body to make his own shut up. "It went okay," he replies to Odasaku, and it's a miracle he doesn't add, 'it's about to get better, I think.'

That would just be tacky.

He shifts on the couch, still a little chilly, but trying to signal Odasaku should come closer.

"I brought you curry. And soup in case it's too spicy. Can I put it in the microwave?"

Dazai blinks. His mouth starts curving up. "Odasaku, has anyone told you you're too polite."

"You probably haven't eaten." Odasaku easily ignores his teasing jab, placing the takeout on the kitchen counter but not quite walking behind it. "It's crab soup."

He hasn't eaten and yeah, he's a little hungry, and of course Odasaku knows all of this and brought him his favorite. But he doesn't like to eat before sex. It just makes him feel bloated and a little repulsed by himself.

Crab doesn't go with sake, he could try, only it does. He could try 'not in the mood for curry or crab', only Odasaku will probably ask him if it's okay to take a look at his fridge and make him something.

"I'm not hungry." He sips at his glass again. Isn't alcohol supposed to make you feel warmer? "Can I have a kiss?" He wants Oda's tongue burning up his mouth, wants Oda pinning him down and chasing the darkness out of him. It's a stupid thought. He humors it and waits for a reaction from underneath his lashes.

Odasaku's surprise is practically audible in the silence. Dazai starts to move over so the length of his gangly body stretches across the couch, then puts his elbows on the armrest and props his head up to watch Odasaku. Please?

Odasaku closes in slowly, but Dazai finds himself holding his breath, nervous anyways. He can feel his heart in his throat, feels it pulse when Odasaku bends down, warm hand sliding up Dazai's face, cupping his chin. Dazai tilts it up as his eyes fall closed.

And then his breath catches, when Odasaku kisses his forehead instead.

He blinks and Odasaku's already straightening. Retreating to give Dazai space.

"Odasaku...." That's not what he wanted, but-

Odasaku prods his elbow and Dazai takes the cue, pulling his limbs back and sitting up straight. Odasaku takes a seat besides him, their shoulders a couple of inches from touching. Looks at the TV as he says, "Can I hold you for a bit?"

He has to think about this one. Says, "okay," even as he thinks about how he doesn't really want to be touched, at least not if it isn't Odasaku pushing Dazai onto his back.

Odasaku shifts his weight forwards so he's sitting on the edge of the couch and able to comfortably reach for the coffee table. He pushes Dazai's glass inwards- farther from Dazai- and then picks up the remote. When he readjusts his sitting position again, he's still sitting a few meaningful inches away from Dazai. And now he's left his arm stretching over the top of the couch.

It's such a date move, except it's them. Odasaku is doing this for Dazai.

He hates Odasaku a little more in the moment. He hates feeling inconvenient, because it's a reminder he cares about what Odasaku thinks. The desperation of his attachment- he's so fucking weak, it's pathetic. God, he disgusts himself.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" Odasaku asks. Dazai is still leaning away from his arm, but he's not breathing as hard and so he supposes, this is good.

"No." He hasn't. Before they started their arrangement, Dazai would have answered that with a smirk, an 'is Odasaku coming on to me or am I still daydreaming?'

The stunt actors throwing themselves across the TV screen are alright. If this were also back then, Dazai would poke Odasaku, tease and bet that he could do it better. Oda would consider it in his seriousness and Ango would scold them both into the next year. Everything's different now and he's not sure if he likes it or loathes it, even though having to ask himself which one it is, is pretty determining.

Five minutes is how long it takes for him to finally calm down, enough to shift and holds himself against Odasaku's side. Odasaku radiates warmth. The rise and fall of his chest is steady. Dazai tries to ignore it. His neck prickles.

Some more minutes trickle by before Odasaku murmurs, "Can I take you to bed?"

"No," Dazai blurts out immediately, because he understands what Oda is saying, but the answer is no because it'd stress him out, be even worse than the little fiasco going on right now. He'd have to try and force himself to sleep around someone who should be a source of comfort and failing that would just be gloriously useless of him-

"Okay." Odasaku says, gentle. "No worries." A pause. "Would it help to invite Ango over?"

Dazai breathes. It would. He can put on a front if it's for people, if it's for friends. It's harder to put on a show if it's for individual people; he has to make sure their gears mesh together but they're so damn complicated. Odasaku more so, than most.

"We should drag him out of the house a little more."

Dazai opens his mouth. It's not you, he wants to say, urgent, needy for someone else to know what he does. Odasaku, you're not the one making me uncomfortable, it's me.

"Maybe you can teach us how to make hot pot?"

Dazai wants to yell. Fall apart out loud for a change. They're monsters, not shadow puppets on the wall, and they don't go away when the sun comes up or what their parents say it's bedtime, for real this time. Oda's trying too hard, and it aggravates him.

Odasaku can't wrap his arms around him and make him okay. That's never going to be him. He's afraid that Odasaku still doesn't know that, and he doesn't know what Odasaku will do when he really, really understands this. Even if Odasaku doesn't leave, Dazai can't stand the thought of Odasaku suddenly thinking less of him. It'll be just like losing him.

"Dazai?"

He shakes himself out of it. "Yeah. Call him." He pauses. "Can I have the crab soup after all?" He's still not completely ready to hug it out with the idea of eating, but it'll give him something to do.

Oda rises. Dazai stares at the grace, the strength in the lovely curve of his back. He feels cold all over again.

Oda glances over and holds his hand out. Dazai stares at it for a second before he lets Oda lead them away, carrying the two empty glasses with him in his free hand. Dazai pulls away to work on transferring the takeout into bowls to send them off to the microwave while Oda runs the glasses under tap water, swishing the residue round and round before drinking it down and then washing them clean.

The smell of reheated curry overpowers the room. Oda watches Dazai drop into a chair and then watches Dazai plop spoonfuls of curry rice into his soup, stirring this way and that.

"Did you know," Odasaku says, and Dazai looks up at him. "You have happy-cat face."

Dazai sputters. "I'm sorry, I have what?"

"Happy-cat face."

"Odasaku," He purses his lips, but he can't stop his shoulders from shaking. "Odasaku, that's not a thing."

Odasaku keeps his gaze, the slightest rise of his eyebrow explaining yes it is because you have it.

"You're so silly. Did you know that?"

Odasaku hums. When he dials Ango, he places his phone on the dinner table. Dazai's eyes gleam as he shouts like he's from the next city over.

"Oh my god," Ango's voice is very grumbly. "Odasaku-san, please remove me, I think he broke my ear."

Oda turns off loudspeaker and brings the phone against his ear. "So when are you coming over?"

"Ugh, give a man twenty-minutes. I still have work to do."

Dazai throws himself into Oda's side, squashing his face against Oda's other cheek as he chirps, "Tell him all work and no play makes Ango grouchy. And that he has old-man energy."

"Tell Dazai-kun, I think his Brat Card should have an expiration date."

"Tell Ango, there isn't an expiration date on fun~"

"Tell Dazai-kun-"

Oda disentangles himself from his executive, passing him the phone and letting them go at it. Dazai sits back down, adjusting himself so he can bring his knees up to his chest and leave his feet on the chair seat. Even as he chatters away, he keeps his eyes on Oda, who moves to wash out the takeout containers. He reuses everything because he's an environmental dork. Dazai would be more of one if he wasn't interested in dying before the planet. Still, watching Oda so patient, quietly determined to withstand the overpowering...it makes Dazai soften.

"Hey, is Odasaku-san still there?"

"Nope." Dazai says, popping the p. "Odasaku is busy. Being perfect."

"Yeah, yeah. Why don't you two just get married already? Make it official and everything."

He doesn't recover as quickly as he'd have liked. "Ango, weddings are not good places to pick-up women. They're all crazy. And non-sober. And crazy. We'll find you your little lady elsewhere, don't you worry." He watches Odasaku shake off the excess water into the sink, wiping the counter dry and putting the containers to the side. Then he dries his hands, he drifts over to the living room and picks up the remote.

"Ha. Not that I wouldn't reject your delightful request to be your best-man, but are two groomsmen allowed to be each other's best man? I think so."

"Has anyone ever tell you not to drink on the job, Ango?"

"Speaking of which, you'll have alcohol waiting for me, right? I had to train a new accountant today. If it was there, you would have fainted from the painfulness."

"Delightful. So. How much longer?" He'd really like for there to be someone other than Odasaku around him.

"That depends. I don't want to walk in on you two fucking."

Dazai sighs into the receiver. "It's not my fault. Odasaku has a really nice dick."

He can practically hear Ango roll his eyes. "Don't expect me anytime soon then."

"So. Fifteen minutes?"

"Yeah, alright. See you dumbasses then."

There's no immediate beep! Ango is waiting, letting him end the call. Dazai shakes his head. His friends are really something.

Odasaku keeps flicking through the TV channels, only looking up when Dazai leans over the couch from behind, gently resting his chin on the top of Odasaku's head.

"Hi."

"Odasaku's hair is really soft."

"Thank you."

"Odasaku smells very nice. Like mango-watermelon. And curry."

"Thank you." Oda sits very still so he can hand Dazai the remote without jolting him. "What do you want to watch?"

Dazai breathes. In, out. "Anything is fine."

#odazai #my writing

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