#i love unicorns....these guys are special....so fuzzy... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vinylhazza · 4 years ago

Note

ok so we all know that gray rushes/is eager about his relationships, but this time, what if the reader asks him to slow down or something? like she’s just getting started with her degree and she wants to slow down a bit, not rush into things, and eth agrees and gray is finally happy? also sorry if u aren’t taking concepts or requests lol

i feel like...low key....he needs this irl lol

this man doesn’t even have the phrase slow down in his vocabulary so when you say those words, the look of confusion that crossed over his face was to be expected. you knew you would have to spell it out for him, at least slightly. he gets in over his head with every relationship and wonders why they somehow fall apart so soon. some girls fall into that spell: the attractive guy wants me so it must be something real and true and they fall before they ever really form a strong bond, sliding to third base a time or two and tricking themselves into thinking it’s deeper than surface level lust.

but you, you are not the ‘kick it into high gear’ type of gal and you thought you made that pretty obvious from the start. grayson gets attached easily, we all know that. you take your days one at a time, scope out the pros and cons of every situation. and you know, yeah it might be a trauma response from the countless times people have fucked you over and made you out to be a fool from a very young age, but that same mindset has helped you dodge many bullets over the years.

his first initial infatuation—it’s no different with you, but you are how do you say—hyper aware of his intentions and motives. you’ve been screwed over, toyed with, used your fair share of times and the world be damned to hell if some buff fluffy brown haired boy with amber eyes and a smile that oozes light and happiness comes in treating you like you’re this...lost treasure and you just believe him. believe all of the pretty words, take his hand and follow him into the dark, blindly let yourself love someone again not be sure of what they expect out of the relationship. and damn you if you let him swoop in and carry you off like a princess from a tall tower. like he’s this knight in shining armor. you won’t be fooled by the cloud of attraction and get yourself in too deep before you’re completely on the same page with one another. and first things first; you aren’t someone that needs to be saved, and neither is he.

you understand the puppy love stage of relationships. it’s bound to happen: the subtle obsession with your partner, that new light fuzzy feeling you get thinking about them, thinking of what they might be doing when they’re not with you, if they are thinking about you too, listening to all the sappy love songs and suddenly all you can think about is the color of their eyes after they’ve laughed real hard, the dip in their brow when they are thinking for a long time, the electric feeling that zaps your skin when they touch you, the way their voice lowers two octaves when they lean over and whisper something sweet in your ear, it’s all there for grayson. you know you’re falling in deep, and maybe that’s what scares you. maybe it’s the way you are so willing to trust him early on that leads you to the conversation of slowing things down. for the protection of the both of you, it’s not one sided.

not only had grayson made you feel secure in the very beginning of the sudden relation you had started, but he kept consistent with his actions and words. something that was unusual and strange after dealing with men that never really grew up beyond 16. at the stage of your life you’re in, there isn’t any room for a childish game of tag with a boy who didn’t have any intentions of sticking around in the first place.

you worked hard for everything you had, you always have. your upbringing wasn’t one of sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns. you didn’t have it easy. it wasn’t something that you used to weazle your way out of situations, excuse your occasional bad behavior, but it was something you thought about when you did catch glimpse of your growing attraction to someone. especially grayson, who was...one of the nicest men you had ever met. charming really didn’t even cut it. but just starting on your degree...complicated things. made you really want to reiterate to him that your degree, it was important to you and you fought tooth and nail to be able to even touch a college textbook. you couldn’t be blinded by his charms and be distracted from your dreams. there were times where the world seemed dark and hopeless and with hard work and perseverance you climbed out of that hole, just to stand as the strong intelligent woman he was falling head over heels for. you didn’t get that way over night. and you sure as well weren’t going to screw up your studies because you found someone that maybe wanted to stay, maybe didn’t. if the two of you were to work out and keep developing that beautiful bond - you hoped it would be as a team, one with understanding and clarity.

in your past experience, once a man knows he’s got you hooked, that’s the green light to treat you how they’ve wanted to the entire time. their once soft caress turns possessive, trust turns to assumption and blame, dates grow less and less frequent, and are left to sit and wonder what you ever saw in the first place. tricked, manipulated, and heartbroken. it’s never been honesty, love, and acceptance first. it’s “i love you” and “i care” when their actions don’t support their claims. you promised that the next boy you catches your heartstrings and strums until you’ve fallen under their spell, you would know exactly what you’re falling for. that means taking it slow, knowing what makes grayson tick, what he hates, what he adores, what brings him peace and comfort, if he cries during chick flicks, what kind of person he wants to be remembered as, if he fears the unknown as much as you do, was makes him completely and totally happy, and what infuriates him the fastest of all, what hardships has he had to face alone, what haunts his mind in the dead of night where no one can hear him crying, and what thought makes him smile when he’s doing nothing in particular. for once, just this once, you’re heart longed to know more that what meets the eye. you wanted to know if your feelings were 3 demensional, encompassing the good and bad about grayson, or if you truly just loved the way he fucked you.

but most importantly, you wanted him to know you. know the things about you that most people didn’t have the pleasure of knowing, all while making your dreams come true.

you thought maybe it was a mistake reaching out to ethan in your time of dire need of a shoulder to lean on, but it ended up being just the conversation and pat on the back you needed. the right nudge from the right person to have you sitting down with the softest soul you’ve come to find. grayson wasn’t someone you wanted to hurt, and ethan reassuring you that by talking to him and making him slow down, it would save him from more heartache than anything.

“i think it’s going to mellow him out, actually,” ethan nods along with your words, picking at a stray strand on his pants.

he wants what’s best for his twin, which is the exact reason you wanted to have this conversation with him. you didn’t want to mess something up and be rash and childish before anything real really even started, “grayson doesn’t really do ‘slow’, so this will be good for him.”

“i just don’t want to hurt him you know? i don’t want to be another girl that leaves so suddenly when he gets a bit too much. i know those are special circumstances and he was desperate with the desire of finding that special connection...” a pause to catch your breath, nervous from the vulnerability you’re showing already, “but when i make a commitment, i keep it. i want him to know that. i just want him to be secure within his decision to want...whatever this is with me. i want to be able to know him enough that my feelings for him are justified. and vice versa...i don’t want him to think that because i want to slow down, means i want to stop.”

“he will understand more than you think. if there is one thing i know about him, it’s that he will bend over backwards to make something he wants work. if he really wants you like i know he does, he will slow it down and make sure that you are comfortable. sounds like he doesn’t have much choice.” and it’s nice hearing those words from someone you haven’t gotten the chance to grow all that close with yet. hell you’re not even that close with grayson yet. you’re in the beginning stages still, learning your way around life with him in it. independence has always been one of the things that made you, well, you - and Grayson must understand you need more time before moving forward.

“really?” your heavy sigh shows your nerves are shot from worrying about not just school, but about the many different outcomes of the talk you need to have with Grayson. it has to happen, but you’ve never been one for confrontation even if it’s ensuring a positive outcome for both parties.

another shrug with a kind smile from ethan warms your heart, “just talk to him. he’ll appreciate your honesty. most of the other girls got wigged out and dipped, it’s going to mean so much more that you are wanting to stick it out even if it’s going too fast for you right now.”

growing up in a family full of huggers really shows when you step forward to wrap your arms around his waist for a split second, appreciative that he listened to understand and actually help you.

“thank you e, i hope he doesn’t just think i’m trying to make excuses and leave.”

when you pull away he is smiling still, pleasantly surprised by your friendly hug. with a light squeeze to your shoulder and a soft sort of smirk playing on his lips, he gives you just the advice you needed.

“something i’ve learned being his twin; give him a little more credit.”

when you have that conversation that had you so nervous your stomach tossed and turned all day long, you make sure you’re chanting ethans words over in your head. breathe. it’ll be fine. he will understand. give him a little more credit. he really wants you. the words play like a song through your head as you wait for him to sit back down on the white floral sheet in the softest patch of grass in your backyard. water spills from the glass in his hand as he plops onto the ground in a heap of giggles, muttering “fuck” softly, trying (and failing of course) to wipe the water off of his light blue button up shirt. it’s a good color on him, and you’re momentarily distracted from how attractive he looks in the late afternoon sun.

when you first met grayson, he had stumbled upon you sitting all by yourself in a small park, book in hand, peach in the other, completely unsuspecting that you would catch his heart captive when you glanced up with a smile that just about made him pass out. you were still surprised months later that he had had the nerve to say a word to you, he looked ill with anxiety to even utter a word. it was a day you’d never forget - and you would try and remember that innocent look in his eye when you explain why you had planned this picnic in the first place. to talk, to listen, to understand.

you figure if you really want to have the conversation be as smooth as it can be for the both of you, you could take it back to the very start. a simple picnic, with a lot of hope for the future.

after the laughter fit falls down, it’s time to get to the root of the issue. you prepare yourself with a deep breath in, holding in for a few seconds with your eyes closed, then slowly releasing when you look back at the questioning raise of his eyebrows. when he cocks his head to the side, you know it’s now or never. if you don't say it now, you might regret it.

“I actually brought you here so that we could have a talk real quick,” you finally explain, making sure to maintain eye contact and drink in ever facial expression he may have - just so you know how to go forward.

“you know you can talk to me about anything, is something wrong?” He’s so soft with the way he talks, never suspecting anything like what he’s about to hear, and it almost hurts to know you’ll be disappointing him in some way.

“nothing is really wrong...i just think maybe...we should slow it down for a bit.”

“what do you mean? we just got here,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his water with a shake of his head. not understanding, his fingers fiddle with the fringe at the bottom of your sundress.

you continue without stopping, ignoring his joke and hopefully make him see you aren’t here to fool around, at least not entirely. it was a serious talk for once and you wanted him to respect what you had to say.

“-not go so fast we miss the exciting part of getting to know one another,” you carry on to a now confused, sorrowful looking grayson, finally understanding that you weren’t talking so much about the picnic - but the two of you as a whole.

“i still want this—still want you i mean. but i just...want us to be us for a bit and not worry so much about the next step and then the one after that and the one after that and-”

he holds his hand up to stop you, cutting you off while looking at the ground deep in thought. setting the water down slowly, he climbs back up to his feet. you watch him patiently while he treads through the clipped grass, knowing he’s trying hard not to overreact and over think. After what feels like eternity, he sits down with his hands hanging off his knees, picking at a blade of grass he’s ripped from the earth beneath him.

“have i pushed you?”

sweet boy, always trying to take blame.

with a small smile you shake your head, “you haven’t pushed me at all gray. I just want this to grow - want us to grow. i don’t want you getting in too deep before you’re sure you’re ready for all of the things i’m looking for in the future and likewise.”

another nod of understanding, he was listening close. his respect for you grow tenfold, you had the courage to not let your lust or even affection cloud your judgement and you were honest with him. something that grayson admired most from anyone he let into his life was honesty.

“i’m not very good with slow but i’m sure you’re probably right,” he laughs more at himself than anything, “i just get carried away. especially with a woman like you. how couldn’t i?”

always the flirt. and a good one at that. he always knew exactly what to say to get you blushing, which is exactly why you hide your face bashfully in your shoulder for a few moments before you could look back at him admiring you.

“I hope you know that this is different though, Y/n. I can’t exactly explain how, but you should know i’ve never felt this way for anyone no matter how many times i’ve tried to convince myself otherwise in the past out of...fear, shame, even guilt. it’s different. and because of that difference, i know i can’t be selfish with you.”

for once you’re grateful for your mothers voice at the back of your head nudging you to let your heart be open, because without that voice, you would never be sitting in the grass with a man that truly does want to respect your boundaries and looks at you like you’re made of exquisite glass. you wouldn’t have memorized the soft texture of his lips as you lean in to kiss him, or the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek. you wouldn’t know the sound of his relived sigh, or the giggle that breaks the kiss only a few seconds later. and you wouldn’t have the clarity that you so desperately craved.

if there is one thing you knew for sure it’s that he is telling the truth. his truth shows with the delicate placement of his hands, the soft caress of his thumb on your cheek, his fingers running through your hair, and all the other ways he shows his adoration for you every day that you wish to hold on to forever. you know that the waiting and slow pace will be worth it in the end and the slow burn will turn into the blazing fire that you can already tell shines in his eyes. your hesitation has nothing to do with him but a past you would explain in due time.

for now, you’d continue kissing him on the sheet that smelt faintly of laundry detergent, in the backyard of your quaint apartment on 26th and Broadway, with his hand in your hair, lips pressed gently against yours, and a whole heart full of hope for a long future of days just like this.

#asks #gray!concepts #grayson!concepts #fluff #grayson fluff

96 notes · View notes

psychedellic-phase · 4 years ago

Text

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too.

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals.

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter.

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can.

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better.

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing.

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field.

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado.

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home.

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did.

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love.

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair.

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny.

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box.

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far.

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it.

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted.

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings.

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed.

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos.

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting.

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding.

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted.

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together.

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip.

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there.

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense.

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that.

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process.

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused.

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact.

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face.

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine.

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude.

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too.

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it.

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am.

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up.

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs.

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use.

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility?

“I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

“I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options.

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you.

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it.

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming.

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind.

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up.

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks.

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away.

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream.

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment.

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact.

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening.

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it.

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me.

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done.

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode.

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in.

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting.

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious.

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat.

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get.

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it.

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It’s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest.

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down.

“Then what the hell is going on!?”

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets.

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which.

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365.

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain.

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging.

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out.

“What was that?”

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me.

You weren’t.

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag.

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in.

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?”

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.”

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked.

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut.

“You’re really leaving?”

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own.

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly.

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore.

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you.

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together.

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now.

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here.

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed.

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself.

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy.

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes.

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14.

PART 14

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

Taglist!

@l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog @blameitonthenight21 @goldentournesol @rainsong01 @thelifeofadumbbitch @swimmingtrashwobblersludge @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @eldahae

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #cm #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid

171 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 6 years ago

Text

Insert Quippy Title Here!!

; Deadpool!Jimin x Reader

; Genre: Smutty smut smut smu- okay there’s some fluff and crack too

; Word Count: Long..like my di- (8.5k)

; Warnings: Everything bab- (WOULD YOU LET ME SPEAK?!) oral sex (hola senor blowjob), masturbation (sweet baby grapes yes), anal play ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) crude language (what are you 12?), unprotected sex (stay safe kids!), spanking

; Synopsis: There is no synopsis. It’s just you...me...and a real good time sweet cheeks.

; A/N: This just came about because I talked about it with @yminie. Probably not as funny as I thought it was...there’s a plot if you squint somewhere. Supposed to be a drabble. Evidently not.

The living room is quiet until suddenly a figure jumps up from behind the couch, jolting in surprise as he turns round and catches sight of the reader. A black gloved hand presses against the red leather that covers his chest while the white eye circles of his face mask become overly exaggerated.

“Oh...you scared me there. I was just...cleaning...for dust bunnies. Behind the couch. Definitely not playing with tiny unicorn toys. No way. You’re dead wrong. And if you tell my girlfriend. I will call you a liar. A big...beautiful liar.” He moves around the couch in tiny, awkward movements before his hand flicks quickly as he throws something away.

The toy unicorns hit the ground with tiny plastic thumps but he lets out a high pitched giggle that distracts attention. “So...you may recognise me. I’m kind of a big deal. At least, I think I’m a big deal. You may recognise me from that super awesome comic series, or even the really, hugely successful films that have come out starring the incredibly handsome Ryan Reynolds. What a face, am I right?”

He sits down, grumbling slightly when one of the swords on his back catches the couch pillow before he throws it to the side and leans backwards, spreading both arms while crossing a leg over his knee.

“So...my story. I have many...many different stories. And this is a...a little one. A short one. Just for you guys. My sweet, beautiful, loyal people.” A kiss is blown. “My name is Park Jimin, and I’m one handsome motherfucker if I do say so myself.” His head tilts to the side before shrugging.

“A few things to make clear before we move on with this ‘totally-not-fanfiction’ story. Number one, if you’re questioning where the extra four inches went compared to Ryan Reynolds,” He shifts slightly and strokes his ass. “Prime Park ass, right here. Perfect.” Bringing his fingers together, he blows another kiss.

“Secondly, I cannot be held accountable if you fall in love with me. I’m sorry my darlings, but it just can’t be. Fourthly, I was born in Busan first - wait I’m not supposed to know that yet. Fifthly...is that a word? Wait...did I miss a number? Did I? Whatever. What was I going to say?” Everything starts to go black and he jerks around, complaining loudly.

“Wait, no! STOP IT! You come back here camera! DON’T TAKE ME AWAY FROM THE-wait I have to go so the story starts? Oh...okay, capiche.” He finger guns to the side before saluting. “Enjoy table fuckers. I LOVE YOU SPIDER-MAN!” He screams before everything stops.

The first time you’d ever met Park Jimin, he’d been regaling the room with a story about a fuzzy unicorn that had come into his room and given him a blowjob in the middle of the night. He’d been high at the time of course, but you’d come to learn that Jimin’s mind genuinely worked that way sometimes.

The scarred yet incredibly handsome man had an infectious personality that both exasperated and amused you, pulling you in while simultaneously making you want to push him away. He’d been a complete enigma to you, still was sometimes, and you often wondered if he was actually okay.

Yet despite the foul mouth he had on him, he’d proven to be a loyal friend to you once he’d let you inside those high walls. It had taken two years of friendship, with him scurrying off at random points and blurting out the most obscene comments, before you finally asked him on a date.

At the time, he’d been incredulous, pointing to himself frequently and asking if you were aware who you were asking out. He was loud mouthed and occasionally offensive, but he had a heart of gold and a little bit of insecurity to go along with it. How could you not fall in love with him?

Honestly, he probably only dated you for the first few months to see if you’d actually stay around or if he was going to find out that it was some big, elaborate prank. It hadn’t been, as you’d genuinely found him attractive and his personality infectious, despite the concerns from your friends and family.

And yet...once he’d realised that you were staying with him because of him and not some dumb bet you’d made with Yoongi, he’d lowered his guard with you. Maybe too much actually. He had odd habits. Like some weird overgrown cat, he’d started to leave you presents in your home. Teddy bears, gummy sweets...even a hosepipe, which had been bizarre until he had simply shrugged and said they were on sale at Home Depot.

You didn’t even have anywhere to use a hosepipe. You lived in an apartment in the city, which he knew about.

If anything, you often got the impression that Jimin didn’t really have many real interactions with people who weren’t his best friend. In fact, it was a constant surprise to you that Taehyung was friends with Jimin...because he was as normal as apple pie.

And yet the feeling that there was something special about Jimin had gone on unabated, He would vanish at the weirdest times, say the oddest things on the phone sometimes and he also had the most unreal skills when it came to games or anything sports like - even if he did whine like a soccer mom at a PTA meeting.

His distinctly odd behaviour, which says a lot given how unusual he behaves anyway, had meant that the revelation of his alter ego had been anti-climatic. Like getting excited to go for a meal at your friends house and then finding out you have to eat a salad, not exactly nutritious and about as filling as the dick you’d had on prom night.

Honestly, he was a bit of an idiot sometimes. You’d been dating six months when you found out, walking into his apartment with a box of pizza in your arms only to discover your frequently ebullient boyfriend half naked.

That, was not the unusual bit. He liked to walk around in his tight Spider-Man briefs, pointing out the cute cartoon face on them frequently before asking if you’d like to touch his dick. Or his Spider-Man toys. So no, being half naked was not the bit that had made you raise your eyebrows, even if your boyfriend was insanely ripped for a ‘delivery boy’.

No, it had been the red and black leather suit that he’d been tugging on, one arm already inserted before he’d frozen in place. Your jaw had dropped at the sight, eyes going almost comically wide as he stood awkwardly, the famous mask with two black areas under the white eyes staring up at you from the couch.

“Listen, let’s be honest. This is not the weirdest thing you’ve caught me doing.” He’d stated bluntly, his tone very calm for someone whose girlfriend was finding out his super-alter ego. You’d gone to argue with him, placing the box of pepperoni pizza on the side table and stepping closer before stopping when he raised his hand.

“Remember that time I got so high I tried to smoke a cat’s tail? Or the time you caught me eating Play-Doh because Taehyung swore to me that it was edible candy? Which it wasn’t, the fucker. I had the worst shits for a week. Or that time you found me trying to suck my own di-” You’d held your own hand up then, eyes goggling before you’d simply sat on the couch and opened the box.

“No, you know what? You’re right. This is definitely not the strangest thing I’ve ever found you doing. Carry on Mr Superhero. I can’t guarantee there’ll be pizza waiting whenever you’re done.” You’d mumbled around a slice, moaning softly at the delicious taste of rich cheese combining with smokey pepperoni.

Jimin had stood at the door, his mask grasped in a tightly fisted black leather gloved hand while a look of childish petulance had taken over at the sight of you eating the pizza. “Not fair. You know I love the pepperoni from Jimmy’s! This is unjust torture. This is illegal. I’m calling the United Nations!”

He’d stormed out then before running back in and grabbing a slice, shouting out loudly that he loved you like Trump loved money and disappearing. You’d been in bed when he’d come back, neither of you commenting on his earlier antics.

As such, you’d slid into a strangely comfortable relationship that was open and honest. Your only requirement was that he a) not die, which apparently was like impossible for him or something, and b) not kill people in front of you. He’d bitched about it like a weak ass celebrity rapper in a feud looking for attention but accepted it.

He was still possibly the oddest person you’d ever met, but over the last 2 years of dating you’d gotten used to it. Which was why you were only mildly exasperated at his current antics in the middle of the restaurant you’d brought him to for your twice monthly date.

“Jimin, we’re supposed to be like...on a date. With each other. So like...why are you staring at those pictures of Spider-Man?” You ask, frowning as he sits frozen in place with his gaze firmly centered on the magazine. In it, there’s a double spread picture of Spider-Man in all his glory, his firm and toned body stretched out as he swoops through New York City.

Where he’d even pulled that from, you didn’t know, but he’d found it all the same. And Spider-Man was like catnip to Jimin.

“Have you ever...have you ever seen such beauty? It’s like...he’s like...if Chris Hemsworth had a baby with Chadwick Boseman and then that guy had a baby with Chris Evans and then that guy had a baby with Lupita Nyong’o and then THAT girl had a baby with Ji Chang Wook and then-” You cut him off with a raised hand.

“I get it. It’s like a lot of beautiful people improbably had babies with each other to produce the most beautiful person in the world. You do realise, you have no idea who Spider-Man is right? He might be the ugliest person in the world for all you know.” You reason with him, running a finger along the printed image of Spider-Man’s stomach.

He looks at you with wide eyes before pointing at his own scarred face, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes at his self-deprecation. “Look at his thighs though. I wish I was in the Avengers. I mean...my god. Those thighs are like...works of art. It’s like...Michelangelo and Raphael had a baby and-” Reaching forward, you press your hand to his mouth firmly.

“If you fucking say the word baby one more time, I will stab you in the dick with a fork.” Beneath your hand, you can feel his lips pulling into a grin while his brows wiggle. Leaning back, you cross your arms over your chest and wait to hear what he’s thinking.

“Baby...I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing. Let’s swing by the grocery store after this and pick up a cutlery set. What’s your thoughts about egg cups?” Lips twitching, you look away as your head shakes exasperatedly. Honestly, you wonder how on earth he always has a quip for everything.

“Seriously though. Those thighs. I mean...he can jump as high as a building so they’re packing some punch. What I wouldn’t give to get my ribcage smashed in by him. He looks like he could like...crush a mountain between those big and juicy thighs. I want to be that mountain. I want him to crack me like an egg and then do it all over again.” He looks up at you with eyes that are wide, his pupils blown out and you bite your lip to stop laughing.

“Are you hard?” You ask, your voice almost flat with expectation and zero surprise. Jimin looks down at his own lap and rubs a hand over his crotch slowly, brow raised.

“My penis is erect. Yes. I can’t help it. He just...turns me on so much. I can use it on you if you’d like? Forget about fork play. What’s your thoughts on role play? In particular...have you ever considered wearing a Spider-Man cosplay outfit? Because...I think you could work it. And you know that I have a strap-on that you can use. On me. Obviously. Please. It’s my one fantasy.” He begs, crossing his fingers together as he begs you from across the table.

Your brow raises as you watch him in amusement. “I thought your fantasy was to fuck on the wings of an airplane when it’s at full height?” He had very strange fantasies.

He pauses with plump lips wide open and those brown irises becoming more visible as his excitement deflates. “That’s one of them. But it’s kind of hard to fulfill you know. People generally need oxygen at that level and it’s really cold. I’m into some kinky shit but...dead people is a step too far. Even for me baby doll.”

Sighing deeply, you pinch your nose with your fingers as you breath out slowly afterwards. Centering yourself, you look back up at him with a fond smile as you reach across and take his hand, squeezing tightly.

“I’m not Spider-Man, and I’m not into stabbing you with cutlery. Nor can I fuck you on a plane. But I can give you a really good blow job and hopefully mind numbing sex back at mine if you’d like? A little vanilla but...oh well.” His own dark brow raise up and he runs a hand through his dark hair.

“What about a little anal play?” He lifts his fingers and moves them to give an inch gap, his pink tongue poking through his lips. You raise a brow and poke at your cheek with your own tongue.

“Not really in the mood for that tonight babe.” Jimin rolls his eyes at that and mimics you exaggeratedly, causing your eyes to narrow. He catches it and holds his hands up placatingly.

“Not you. Me. Just...give me a little something-something you know? Please.” Sighing, you gesture to the waiter for the bill as you take a final sip of your water, smiling at him as you lean forward.

“Fine.” Jimin dances in his seat excitedly, his bright smile taking over his face and you laugh quietly. Paying the bill, you’d both agreed a while ago to alternate between paying which was why you’d chosen something particularly cheap today, you stand up and take his hand when he gives it.

“Let’s go fuck my ass!” He says out loud, causing the rest of the patrons of the restaurant to stare with wide eyes. Cheeks heating up at his loud comment, you groan and push him to the exit as quickly as possible.

“Do you have no shame?!”

“Does Tony Stark have too much money? Hell no! On that note, don’t you think it’s unfair that we don’t get paid for like...saving the world? I mean...it’s a public service you know. In fact, they even tried to charge me for breaking a store window. Excuse me! But if it wasn’t for me...they’d be dead!” Jimin continues on down the street, causing you to sigh good naturedly.

You spot a shortcut that would cut out at least ten or fifteen minutes of your journey between two buildings while he rants and gently tug him towards it. The closer you got, the more he slowed down until it felt like you were trying to drag a toddler.

Actually you were lucky, there had been occasions when Jimin had just gotten onto the floor and whined. You’d, literally, had to drag a grown man across the floor.

Looking down the grim alley with a grimace, Jimin hesitates slightly before looking back at you. His eyes widen almost comically before he pulls an overly exaggerated grimace, whining and stamping his feet.

“Do we have to go down the dark and scary alley with a completely unarmed and untrained woman on my arm? Or can we just go to the well lit street and get a taxi back home?” He asks deadpan, causing you to raise a brow.

“It’s just an alley Jimin, calm down. Besides, you have like...crazy superpowers. If we’re attacked, just fight them. And you can’t die either.” He scoffs at that as he follows you, kicking at an empty can petulantly as his thumbs hook onto his belt loop.

“Yeah, okay. I’m just going to say that though I can’t die, it fucking hurts. Imagine your neck being snapped and then having to re-snap it back into place! Sweet baby Jesus and all the disciples, it’s like a pain you’ve never known. And you never will, because it will kill you. And we’re not testing that okay?” He mutters, causing to chuckle lightly at him as you wrap your arms around one well built arm.

“Is someone scared of the scary alley?” You pout to him, sticking your lower lip out almost comically. He gasps theatrically and places a hand on his chest daintily, leaning back to give it maximum effect.

“Moi? Scared of a creepy alley that is obviously going to be filled with enemies that I have to defeat because that’s how stories with superheroes go? Don’t be silly. I’m just annoyed at the poor plot choice here. That plot hole is so big, I can almost fit my dick in it. It’s almost like this story is being written by an amateur fanfiction writer.” He glares at some unseen figure in the sky, causing your brows to crease together.

“I’m going to elect to ignore that bizarre comment.” You mumble, tugging him forward when you can see the end of the alley.

Sudden movement from behind a dumpster has you freezing and you watch as a guy stands up, holding a knife out at you both. Jimin lets out quite possibly the world’s loudest groan at the sight, throwing his hands in the air.

“Fucking really? Really? This is...ridiculous. Come on General Fucknugget, just...lay off it tonight. I’m on a date with my girl and I’m going home for banging sex. No, you’re not invited.” He rolls his eyes, shifting his weight onto one leg as he eyes the man grumpily.

The guy sneers in response, waving the knife between you both as he grunts out. “Gimme your valuables. All of it. And your money.” Jimin mutters to himself softly, something about lame plots and superhero origin stories.

“Dude, you’re totally lucky I’m not in my suit right now. Or you’d realise this is a bad idea.” Your boyfriend tries to placate him, admirably holding onto his snark and temper given that he’s in the presence of you. But the guy ignores him and lunges forward, shaking the knife even more violently.

“Give it to me, or I’ll cut you!” At that, Jimin pauses and snorts out loud before eyeing the guy.

“Wow...scary. Did your mom write that? I mean...I doubt it...she was being a lot more creative when my dick was in her last night.” He sneers, baring his teeth at the mugger while his fingers curl up into fists.

At that, the guy gives a snarl of his own and jerks forward once more. “I’m gonna cut those pretty eyes right out of your fucking head while your girlfriend watches, then fuck her too.” You watch with wide eyes, gripping onto Jimin’s shirt to hold back before your boyfriend bursts into laughter suddenly.

“Oh geez. Oh man, so dark. You must be from the DC Universe! Tell me, is Henry Cavill still Superman or has he really left? I mean...after that performance in Mission Impossible, he should have just shaved off his moustache for that weird scene. Christ, it was not worth keeping that facial hair.” Both you and the guy pause, looking at each other almost comically in confusion before Jimin suddenly lashes out with a hard push that has the guy rocking back a few steps.

“Hey! Asshole!” The mugger shouts out, spitting on the ground to add to the waste that’s already littering it. Your nose wrinkles at the sight, until you notice another guy slowly coming forward from further down the alley. He too has a knife in his hand and you feel Jimin sigh.

“Oh look, it’s the weekly Dumbass Anonymous meeting. Fun. If your General Fucknugget, then is this Captain Cheese Dick? If I had my swords then you guys would be fucked!” He threatens, perhaps a little empty given he’s just waving his arms around now. The threat is obviously useless as they just laugh, eyeing the fact that he has no obvious weapons.

“Babe...do something already!” You whisper furiously, fully aware that Jimin could take out these two guys in only a few seconds. Compared to what he normally deals with, this is nothing! He turns around at that, ignoring the two and looks at you incredulously.

“Seriously? With what? Interpretative fucking dance? This isn’t Guardians of the Galaxy, I can’t win with a dance off. They have knives! And I have nothing but my dashing good looks and sharp quips.” He jerks his head at that, running a hand through his hair almost model-esque and you refrain from rolling your eyes. You’d only get eye strain from how many times you have to do it.

“I don’t know! A brick? There’s lot of them!” You say, pointing to the chipped bricks that litter the ground. He eyes them with disdain at first before those orbs light up with a sudden idea. Grinning, he wraps his arms around you tightly and spins you around before dropping you back down.

“Genius babe! It worked in the second film, so it’ll work now. Damn, who knew you were meta too?” You have no idea what he’s talking about but he picks up a brick and throws it in the air, catching it with ease. “Say hello...to my bricky friend.”

At that, he launches the brick at the first guys stomach and you shuffle backwards as you watch the guy bend over, wheezing as he holds his abdomen in pain. Jimin ignores him however and launches himself at the other guy, sprinting forward before suddenly sliding underneath him in a slick, impressive move. He spins around with his leg outstretched and the other guy falls over with a yelp as his own legs are knocked out from under him, the knife clattering to the ground.

With lightning fast moves, Jimin grabs the knife and slams the handle into the guys head, knocking him out cold on the floor before he’s up and moving once more. The first mugger is standing gingerly, with his knife held out in front of him as he tracks Jimin’s movements warily.

The corner of Jimin’s mouth ticks up and you can almost see the pleasure he gets out of this as he teases the guy, jerking his body one way before moving the other in rapid movements. After a few of those, he jumps forward and grabs hold of the guys arm, holding it out straight as he slams his body into outstretched part.

He’s moved in the direction the arm doesn’t bend and there’s a sickening crunch that ricochets in the alley, followed quickly by the guys sharp scream. Letting the guys arm go, Jimin pivots in place and performs the most perfect roundhouse kick to the head, leg straight and muscles straining from the effort, sending the guy crashing to the ground.

Picking up the fallen knife, Jimin drops down to straddle the guy and lifts it high in the air. “This is for threatening my girlfriend you ass. And for doing crime. Crime is bad! Did you never go to school? Or even watch a police chase programme? Or listen to Captain America?”

You rush forward at that, grabbing Jimin’s arm and making him drop the knife. He looks at you exasperated as you shake your head. “No killing when I’m here remember!” You hiss at him. He stares for a moment before groaning and letting his head fall back.

“You’re so lucky Mr Crime Man, that Batman over here doesn’t approve of me killing dudes around her. Each person I kill gets me a one week sex ban. So...in the name of my hard on, you are free to live another day.” He leans forward suddenly until he’s nose to nose with the mugger, whose eyes go wide as he cradles his arm tenderly. “But if you do anything again, I’m gonna make you get real acquainted with my swords. Remember the name, Martha and Stewart. Because they’ll be the last things you ever se-”

You interrupt him suddenly. “Really? You named your swords Martha Stewart? Oh my god. I’m dating a fucking nerd. I thought you called them Scarlett Johansson?” The words are said with just a tiny, read - a lot, of sarcasm and Jimin grits his teeth as he glares at you.

“Babe. I’m trying to be scary here. Can you criticise my sword name choice later? And they were, but I got the feeling you didn’t like them being named after someone so beautiful so I changed it. Anyway, not important!” He hisses before going back to the mugger.

“Right yeah. Blah, blah. Scary threat. Tell all your friends that Deadpool is watching for you. Dick ass.” He stands up at that, bringing up two fingers to his eyes before gesturing them back to the guy menacingly as you both walk down the whole alley.

You pull his hand away as you sigh. “Stop doing that. What are you? Ten?”

Jimin snorts as he wraps his arm around your waist comfortably, pulling you flush to his side as he wiggles his brows. “Inches yes. All the more to please you with baby. Kim Taehyung has got nothing on this Big Dick Energy.”

You don’t even both to answer him as you walk down the street to your apartment, just happy he didn’t kill a man in front of you. He always complained that your apartment was in a crappy area, but you often just pointed out that he lived in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of drug dealing gangs.

Your place at least had a bunch of stores nearby, so there were perks to that. Which he’d conceded to, acknowledging that the Korean store nearby had the best pre-packaged kimchi outside of Korea itself.

Probably a lie, but whatever.

Shoulder barging the door open, you let him into your place before closing the door and locking all four locks carefully. He watches with a raised brow, flicking the plywood door with a sneer. “I could break this with my pinky finger babe. It’d take nothing for someone to get in here, and then it’s welcome to Deadtown, population...you. And I’ll be unhappy if you die, just FYI. I may even go full on Celine Dion like in the film.”

Frowning at him, you move past him before going into the bedroom. He follows behind you, still complaining about your apartment and you turn around midway through stripping off, shirt thrown into the clothes bin.

“Do you want to get laid or would you rather keep sucking your own dick? Sounds like you’re doing a good job of it right now.” You state plainly, turning around as you unbutton your jeans. The sound of fabric moving from behind you tells you that he’s stripping off too, neither of you feeling the need to be too sexy right now.

“Maybe I wouldn’t suck my own dick if I didn’t do it so well.” He mutters and you spin around, crossing your arms over chest. It immediately pushes your breasts up and he pauses halfway through unzipping his jeans to stare.

“You have nice tits. Have I told you that before? Real...real nice. Come here sweet thing, let me suck on them. I know you like that.” He grins, pretty smile taking over. You wish he wasn’t so beautiful, it’d be easier to stay mad at him sometimes.

Rolling your eyes, you move over to him and let him wrap his arms around your shoulders, kissing your hair as his hands slide down your body to cup your hips. Slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, he pulls them back and lets the elastic snap against your hips.

The slight pain makes you hiss as you glare up at him, digging your own fingers into the firm meat of his hips. Immediately he’s grinning and pressing against your ass, pushing you into his crotch where you feel his hard erection already ready.

“I like that baby doll. How about you tie me up, slap me and call me Mandy?” He whispers into your ear, licking along the edge of your ear lobe before sucking it into his lips seductively. The feeling makes you shudder, eyelids fluttering shut before you register his words and pull back with narrowing eyes.

“Are you serious?” You can never tell sometimes with him.

“No, I’m Mandy. I just said.” Staring at him, you groan and pull out of his arms, shoving your underwear down your legs and stepping out of them before heading over to the bed. Sitting on the edge you point at him as he tugs off his own jeans and underwear, thick cock bouncing in the air once released.

You eye it for a moment with desire, thighs clenching at the sight of him ready and let out a soft sigh of excitement. He’s an oddjob, but Jimin has yet to fail you in the bedroom. Even if he did have the most ridiculous tastes in kinks and fetishes. And he had the most unbelievably hot body, toned and muscular in all the right places.

“I’m not calling you Mandy. Sweet Delilah, can we just fuck?” The words are sighed from you and you watch exasperatedly as his eyes light up at your words. Walking over to you with that seductive swagger, he stands in front of you and places his hands on his hips, cock waving proudly in the air while a drop of pearlescent pre-cum beads at the tip.

“Oh yeah, call me Delilah baby.” Groaning loudly, you shuffle backwards onto the bed and move onto your knees, reaching between your thighs and rubbing at your aching clit with experienced fingers. He watches for a moment, his eyes focused firmly at the centre of your body as you dip your fingers into your entrance, coating them in your slickness before toying with the excited bundle of nerves.

“I’m not calling you any names.” You glare, moving forward to grab the bottle of lube out of the cupboard. Reaching over, you grab his dick and ever so gently coax him forward before coating him in the clear lubricant.

Leaning forward, you lick along the hard ridge of the underside of his cock, the shaft jerking under your touch and he grunts quietly. Sucking the tip of him into your mouth, you take as much of him as you can in one go before slowly pulling back, hollowing out your cheeks to give him a crazy amount of pressure.

His hand grips at your hair tightly and you can tell he’s into it by the way his hips rock in tiny movements, his desire to go harder warring with his need to not hurt you. Moving off him, you gasp lightly for breath as you admire the string of saliva that drips off the end of his penis, smirking slightly before licking the sensitive skin of his frenulum.

“How about you just fuck me tonight? No weirdness.” You whisper, moving away and getting onto your hands and knees. Lifting the hand you’d lubed him up with, you rub at your needy clit in slow circles, coating yourself in more wetness while exciting him in turn.

His eyes are dark, the deep brown of his irises almost swallowed whole by the blackness of his pupils. A wet, pink tongue flicks out to lick at his plush lips and his decision is made, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself behind you.

“God, you have the tightest fucking ass. You know that? It’s like...like a fucking peach. Like I’m just...fucking a fruit. Not that I’ve ever done that. And if Taehyung ever tells you that I fucked a watermelon, he’s lying. It was a cantaloupe. And it kind of hurt.” He goes off on some weird tangent, somehow still hard despite the way his mind is thinking about distinctly unsexy things.

You’re about to complain at him before he slaps your ass hard, the distinct crack of flesh upon flesh heard before you feel the sting of the pain. Hissing, you bite your lip as a moan leaves you at the sensation and he chuckles.

“Good thing you don’t bruise like a peach though. I don’t like you bruised.” He mutters, stroking at the smarting skin gently. You feel his cock stroke up through your slippery folds, the tip of him rubbing against your clit in a pleasing manner before he’s moving himself upwards, letting the length of his cock rest between your ass cheeks as he thrusts slowly.

“I know you said no weird stuff, but what about if you finger my ass?” Jimin asks suddenly, sliding himself into you in one quick and hard thrust. The breath leaves you instantly as he does so and you choke on a moan, fists clenching the sheets beneath you as he begins to move in short and sharp thrusts.

“I can’t...reach your ass...idiot.” You whisper, each breath ending on a whimpering moan. He lets out a sigh that has absolutely nothing to do with the pleasure he’s feeling and you almost want to reach back and pinch him.

“Damn, it’s not fun when I do it. What about if you let me finger your ass?” He runs his finger along your ass crack as he says this, stroking the area where he’s sliding in and out to coat his finger in slickness before moving it back up to play with the puckered rim of muscle above it.

Rolling your eyes, you nod your head as let yourself fall to your elbows. Jimin lets out a whoop of joy, grabbing the bottle of lube from where you’d dropped it and coating two fingers liberally before letting some dribble down onto your ass.

“Oh baby cakes, we’re going to have some fun. Or I am. Hopefully you will too. If it hurts, tell me.” He says sternly and you know that he’ll stop if you ask. Jimin always does.

His thrusts slow as he wiggles a finger into you, coaxing your tight muscles to relax before he slips inside to the first knuckle. He makes sure to lean round, playing with your clit with his other hand as his hips move in shallow movements, ensuring you get as much pleasure as possible as he slowly works his finger inside.

Once you’re moaning and pushing your hips back against him, he lets out a chuckle and slowly begins to insert a second, stretching the muscles and causing the slightest burning pain. Your breath leaves you in a hiss from between your teeth and you close your eyes, keeping yourself as relaxed as you possibly can.

“That’s it baby girl. Oh...you’re taking daddy’s fingers so well aren’t you? Look at that tight ass, reminds me of that time I fucked Tae-” You jerk your hips backwards in a forcible movement, clenching as tightly as you can around his cock until he’s choking out a breath.

There’s a lot you’ll accept with him, but talking about another man or woman in bed while he’s balls deep in you is not one of them. “Message acknowledged. Don’t talk about other folk when fucking you. Sorry.” He doesn’t even bother to be funny, his cock twitching inside you while his breathing quickens.

The entire time, he’s been stroking at the engorged centre of pleasure between your thighs and you can feel yourself quivering from the combined stimulation of his fingers on your clit, in your ass and the constant pounding of his cock against your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, Jimin.” You whisper, the sound strained as your entire body jerks from the pleasure. He grins even though you can’t see him and murmurs soft encouragements until it’s all too much and he’s got you on the brink of falling over the precipice of pleasure into the pit of orgasm.

“If you want to cum...you know what to call me.” He whispers into your ear, biting at your shoulder seductively before licking along the sensitive flesh. Your mind is almost whiting out and you want to complain at him, but if you do he’ll just stop.

It takes half a lucid moment to remember what he’d said earlier and you groan in annoyance, the tight ball of pleasure in your stomach demanding the release that is so close. “Fuck me, please let me cum…Mandy.” You practically choke on the words.

“Oh sweet dimple crumpets, yes!” He yells out and the effect is immediate with his hips almost pistoning into you, everything suddenly amplified from the movement and the extra sensations cause you to orgasm almost immediately. The muscles in your body tighten and your inner walls convulse around him tightly, the combination of you engaging in his weird kink and your orgasm causing him to judder as he empties himself into you.

By the time you both finish, you lay on the bed tiredly and feel him cuddle up behind you. Muttering out a complaint, you push his hand away and point at the bathroom lazily, causing him to chuckle.

He gets up and walks away, turning round suddenly to blow a kiss to you with his non-lubed up hand. “I love you my sweet, beautiful girlfriend. My pumpkin pie. The love of my life.”

You don’t even bother to respond as he carries on, eyes closing as you doze off slowly.

It’s a week later when the highlight of Jimin’s entire life happens. You wish that you could say that it would be the day that you get married, but honestly it would probably still be today. Because today is the day that Jimin met his fantasy person.

You’d both been out in the city, going on a very casual date together when a sudden group of super villains had run riot in the main park. Why they’d chosen that park, and why that day, you had no idea.

But Jimin had made you hide out in a store nearby while he’d run off to go change into his suit. You’d pointed out many times that it was impractical to keep on underneath his clothes, to which he’d whined intensely about it being harder to get into a superhero suit that it was for a rich, white person to get sent to prison.

Either way, he’d gone running past five minutes later in his full outfit, the swords on his back and you’d had a moment to wonder where the fuck he’d kept them. His prison wallet?

It was only when the sound of explosions began ten minutes later that you’d run out of the cafe to the park, the unreasonable panic you’d had at the prospect of your boyfriend being hurt spurring you on.

The logical part of your mind had been telling you that it was fine. Your boyfriend literally had regenerative powers, and he’d discovered that it was nigh on impossible for him to die. But love and all that.

What you’d found however, was Jimin spinning and dancing around in a flurry of astonishingly beautiful kicks and leaps. He’d looked almost elegant, and you’d noted with surprise that he wasn’t actually killing anyone. Instead, he was using the butt of his swords to knock out the bad guys.

A particularly beautiful movement was when he’d ran straight up a tree, leaping off halfway up and twisting his body round as he flew over the head of his assailant. He’d slammed his sword down on the guys head firmly before landing on one foot. In a show of almost sensual flexibility, Jimin had leaned his weight so that he spun on his foot as soon as he landed, producing a hard kick that sent the guy flying ten feet before he lay there, unmoving.

It was only at this point that you realised the fight was over and you’d watched with eyes like plates as a few of the famous Avengers had all come to a stop close to Jimin. The metal suit of Iron Man whirred and clanked as he walked towards Jimin, but it was the red and blue blur that had you feeling giddy on behalf of your boyfriend.

Spider-Man dropped down from the trees, spinning fluidly as he webbed the guy who was down on the ground. Turning around, he let out a yelp as Jimin was suddenly in front of him, reaching forward tentatively.

“Oh my god. Oh my Betty White. Oh sweet Sandra Bullock. It’s you! It’s really you! Can I touch you? Not inappropriately, unless you want that. I’m down for that. My girlfriend knows. You’re my one cheat. You know, that one person you’re allowed to cheat with? You’re mine. She’ll be fine with it.” He mumbles out, his words almost gibberish in his excitement.

The superhero stares at him and even through the mask you can tell that he’s confused. A slow nod is all he does and immediately Jimin is on his knees, hugging the red and blue superheros legs as tightly as he can.

“Ji-What are you doing?” You call out to your boyfriend, watching as everyone suddenly looks up at you. Shrinking slightly, you wince at the intense stares of so many powerful people before moving towards Jimin slowly and carefully, stroking along his arm to let him know you were there.

“You know this guy?” Iron Man asks, his visor opening up and revealing the infamous face of the billionaire tech genius Kim Namjoon. He was beautiful, and beautifully loaded. Maybe you’d change your one cheat to be this guy. Jimin would appreciate the extra money for sure.

Stuttering, your hand moves to Jimin’s head and the feel of his mask confuses you for a moment. Biting your lip, you cough quietly before giving a slow smile to them all. Jimin would kill you if you blew this for him.

“I do. He’s my boyfriend.” At that, you note Hawkeye’s brows raise up in surprise, causing you to scowl. “Don’t look like that Robin Hood. He’s a good guy okay? Odd, but good.” You say defensively, causing him to hold his hands up.

“Oh well...thanks. I guess. We had it under control but...we appreciate your...help.” Doctor Strange states, walking up behind everyone while his red robe flutters dramatically in the non-existent breeze. You watch with fascination as he draws a few symbols that glow orange and crackle in the air before the ground beneath the bad guy nearby opens up, his body vanishing through.

Wow...maybe you might change your one cheat to this guy. He was Hot. With a capital H. Perfectly styled black hair that pushed up off a smooth forehead, a pixie-esque nose and a jawline to rival Jimin’s. Jimin always joked about this guy but...he was hot.

“Can I get between your thighs and you squeeze real hard? It’s always been a fantasy of mine.” Jimin says, his voice almost dreamy as he strokes along Spider-Man’s thigh. You’d be worried that the superhero feels uncomfortable, but he surprisingly doesn’t move away or discourage your boyfriend.

Still, you lean forward and give a slight embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry...if he’s being awkward. If you feel uncomfortable, feel free to push him away. He’ll listen, I swear.” You say.

The superhero shakes his head and gestures to him with a laugh. “No, it’s fine. Amusing actually. It’s a great story that I can tell others I guess. How many other people get Deadpool on his knees?” He teases and you laugh back, rolling your eyes.

“You’d be surprised. Or if you actually knew him, you wouldn’t be surprised at all.” The both of you ignore Jimin’s childlike gasp of wonder as he whispers about the fact Spider-Man knows his name.

Iron Man steps forward and gestures for Spider-Man to step back, which he does slowly and almost reluctantly. You’re half wondering if there’s a real chance that you could lose your boyfriend here, but Jimin surprisingly stands up and moves back, taking hold of your hand without any prompting.

“So...does this mean I can join the Avengers?” Jimin asks bluntly. “I mean...I’m kinda awesome and will probably outlive you all. Except Captain America. And Thor. And a few others. But still. I helped out right?”

Iron Man lets out an awkward chuckle, his lips curving up and revealing a beautiful set of deep dimples. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, but we can’t let you do that. Despite the fact you’ve sent us like...three hundred postcards asking to be let in. You should stop that by the way, it’s just costing you money.”

Jimin stares in shock at the blunt statement and you run a hand along his biceps to try and calm him down. He barely even notices though and you can tell he’s pouting underneath the mask. "Whaddya mean I can't join the Avengers? Why not?! Is it ‘cos I’m not in the MCU too?" Namjoon looks confused before giving a placating smile and you wince slightly, fully aware that it’s probably just annoying Jimin even more. You don’t know why he’s bothering, the both of you know that there’s no way in hell he’d be allowed to join the Avengers. "Okay like...you're good...impressive. Very impressive The while not dying thing even if you’re cut into pieces? I will concede that is kind of cool and useful. But you kill people. Not cool." Jimin stares blankly at the superhero, before a brow raises slowly. "I'ma just point out your flaw here, RoboCop. How many people do you guys kill on the regular?" "None, that's the point." Hawkeye scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes note his incredibly built biceps for a moment and you take in his blonde hair, noting that he’s an extraordinarily beautiful man. Like wow. There’s no way Jimin hasn’t noticed that. But Jimin doesn’t react how you’d expect and instead simply glares at him before pointing. "Firstly, if you're gonna claim non-harmful methods than fucking Katniss Everdeen over here needs a new weapon and to chill with the murder sticks he fires. Secondly...how many buildings have you destroyed in your fights? Or cars? Or bridges? Or literally anything else. You literally have a freaking spy assassin, assassin!” He points over at Black Widow who makes an understanding face and shrugs.

Accepting the acknowledgement, Jimin turns back to the others and shifts his weight onto one leg, his hip sticking out while he rests a hand on it. “I fight mano a mano and I ONLY kill bad guys. No civilians. You guys...are murderers. Mur. Der. Ers." He turns to Spider-Man and takes his hand gently, stroking along the suited man’s hand while whispering. "Not you Spider-Man baby, you're an angel and you've never done anything wrong in your life, my sweet cupcake."

Spider-Man stares at him before slowing nodding, not even bothering to move Jimin’s hand. Which you find mildly amusing. Honestly, if Jimin managed to convince the guy for a threesome then you wouldn’t say no.

“Wait...that’s not...no we don’t. We aren’t.” Namjoon says, his plush lips pouting and you note the endearing dimples appearing. Sighing, he lifts a hand to rub at his eyes and you note the way his suit seems to melt away, leaving only tanned skin behind.

“Just...no. Thank you...for your help. Truly. But...no.” Jimin’s about to complain more but suddenly, the suited man’s visor flips down and the boosters on his hands and feet activate, jettisoning him up into the air.

The rest of the Avengers all follow suit in various ways, leaving Jimin clinging onto Spider-Man’s hand. “Spidey...baby...please don’t leave me. I’ll treat you good. I’ll treat you real good!” He screams as the hero awkwardly waves bye and webs away.

Your boyfriend stands for a moment, hands on both hips as he watches before he’s stamping his feet like a child. “Whatever assholes! Half of you die in the movie anyway.” He grumbles, kicking at the floor petulantly.

Sighing, you move over to him and rub at his back soothingly. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay. You can make your own Avengers. Only...with killing allowed I guess. As long as I’m not there.” Tugging his mask off, he gives you an incredulous look.

“Are you fucking kidding? Did you not watch the second movie? Hell no, I’m not making a team. Mommy didn’t raise no idiot. Someone with low sexual morals? Yes. Someone with a dubious sense of right and wrong? Maybe. An idiot? No.” You lean back from him and your own brows raise, causing him to sigh quietly.

“Not all the time. I don’t want another word about that stupid fucking IKEA bookcase. Why do I have to build things myself? I’m a mercenary, not Jesus!” Rolling your eyes, you walk away from him and head out of the park to go to the cafe and wait while he changes back so you can continue on your date.

He follows like expected, carrying on as if you hadn’t just ignored him and walked straight past him. “Get it? Jesus? ‘Cos he was a carpenter? No? I’ll work on it. What about Harrison Ford? He was a carpenter too, you know!”

“Go find your clothes wherever you threw them Jimin.”

“John Carpenter?”

“That’s his name, not his job.”

“Oh really? Damn. Do you think I can change my name to my job too?”

“I don’t think that’s what he did, and what would that be anyway? Mercenary Jimin?”

“Super Awesome Amazing Mercenary With A Handsome Face and Sharp One Liners Jimin.”

“...seriously?”

“You’re right, it’s not everything I do. Damn. I don’t think my passport can hold this much information.”

“That’s not what I...you know what. Nevermind.”

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #busanboysnet #btscreatorsnet #btssmutclub #btssunshinenet #jimin smut #jimin fluff #bts fluff #jimin crack #bts crack #deadpool jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin au #jimin fanfic #superhero jimin #superhero au

1K notes · View notes

neshabeingchildish · 5 years ago

Text

06. Dust Yourself Off & Try Again

A/N: So, I FINALLY figured out what I wanted to call A Chasper Fic. It’s gonna be called “Determined.” Also, because my storytelling is traveling faster than the episodes, the story is only gonna be canon up to the musical episode. Everything from here on out gets to be 100% fabricated, but I’ll still try to be as realistic and responsible with the story as possible. Thanks for reading.

Dust Yourself Off & Try Again

They stopped by the bakery on their way to Junk N Stuff. Jasper ordered a box of donuts for everyone. She just grabbed a green tea smoothie. He tried to get it put on his ticket, but she was so adamant that he gave up. Must've been her fight with Henry that put her in such a bad mood. Now, he was feeling a way too. Why was Henry able to affect her this much? Did she have feelings for him? Was it a lovers' quarrel? Honestly, she had been having dreams about Henry, not him. But, by the time Jasper found that out, he had already tethered emotional importance to winning Charlotte's heart. He wondered if the idea of her and Henry would always be in the back of his mind. Or worse.. the back of her mind.

They arrived and Henry approached only to be met with Charlotte's hand halting him. "Don't," was all she said and all she had to say. He noticed the seriousness in her face, swiftly turned, and left her alone. Jasper sighed and went to find his change of clothes. They kept some there in case things got messy and inexplicable to their families. He kept the most, as he generally had the most incidents somehow.

Whenever he got back, Charlotte was gone. "Where's Char?"

"Went home sick," Henry said.

"Oh. Okay." Jasper messaged her. Heard you're not feeling well. Hopefully that changes soon. Let me know if you need anything.

To Henry, he wondered, "What happened between you two this morning?"

Henry looked up from his phone and asked, "Hmm?"

"She was in a bad mood all morning and I know that it wasn't because of me… At least I hope it wasn't."

Henry waved a hand and said, "Yeah… she got all bent out of shape because I was looking out for you." Jasper furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. "Come on, Dude. I know that you said you didn't like her like that or whatever, but in the past few weeks it's been obvious that you were lying. You like her. You know it. I know it. She knows it. And, I just wanted to make sure that she doesn't take advantage of that. She doesn't get a lot of attention and I wanted to make sure that you stay safe through this phase."

Jasper folded his arms and raised both eyebrows. "Okay. As you know, I sometimes get lost in a lot of information. It sounded like you said that you saw that I liked Charlotte and decided to defend me to her, despite the fact that she hasn't done anything to make you defensive of me. Is that about it?" Jasper sounded… mad. Henry was a little bit thrown off by how much.

"When you say it like that, you make me feel bad," Henry said.

Jasper took a deep breath and and said, "I'm gonna man the store."

"Jasper, are you mad?"

"A little bit, Henry!" He snapped. Sounded like a lotta bit, but.. "I don't understand why you thought that was okay."

"Because we're all friends?"

Jasper nodded and said, "Well, you were a great friend to us today." It was clearly sarcastic. Henry made a face, but Jasper didn't see it. He was already headed to the elevator. Charlotte had texted him back.

Charlotte: Dude, I'm fine. Chill out. Lol. TTYL.

He read it multiple times. It felt like old Charlotte. Like, before he was trying to impress her… before she was impressed. He didn't want to say that he talked to Henry about her, because he wasn't sure if that would help or not.

So, he simply replied: Don't mean to be so pushy. I just care about you. I also trust you. I wanted to let you know that. I'll give you some space to feel better.

Charlotte read Jasper's text and felt bad. He definitely noticed her tone. She could tell from that "I trust you," that he also probably talked to Henry about their disagreement. But, he was giving her space and that was what she honestly needed at the moment.

That was what they were still having whenever Frankini placed a musical curse over Swellview…

What an adventure!

“Honestly, it wasn’t all that bad. You have a really pretty singing voice,” Jasper said. “And I’m not just saying that to get something out of you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Good. Because that would be manipulative.”

“It certainly would!” He said and tried to change the subject. They only talked for a little while, and she eventually went home by herself, again. Charlotte had gotten pretty good at successfully not spending any time alone with Jasper since her revelation that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to… well… to give him ideas about them. If they were ever alone, it was at work, and she quickly got Henry or Schwoz into the fold. Jasper wasn’t necessarily deterred by this; because he blamed Henry and his big mouth for her even reacting this way. However, he also didn’t want to be the creepy guy who couldn’t take a hint, like he was doing with Patina whenever she was purposefully avoiding him.

So, he tried to wait and watch for a natural opening where he could slide in and maybe convince her that whatever she was worried about, she didn’t have to be. His birthday recently passed, and she’d given him a backpack with a bucket in it, and one of those fun popup birthday cards with a cowboys on horses theme. He was super excited about it. He tried to be cool, but, “A bucket??? AND a backpack??? A BACKPACK WITH A BUCKET INSIDE???”

“I know that you aren’t as into buckets as you used to be, but I also know that you’re never gonna get rid of the buckets that you did collect over the years and that you don’t have one like this,” she said.

The guys had done all this extra stuff to try to impress and spoil Jasper, but he was most excited about this simple gift from Charlotte. Ray was a little bit insulted, to be honest. “Jasper, do you even realize the time, energy, effort, and money that went into getting someone as strange as yourself a perfect gift?”

Charlotte commented, “He idolizes you. You could have gotten him shoelaces and he would have been happy.”

“SHOELACES???” Jasper asked, super excited about the possibility.

“Nobody got you shoelaces,” Charlotte added. He sank in his seat, hugging his bucket in a backpack. “I’m just saying that Ray spent $300,000 on a painting and $90,000 on a spotlight that he only used, like, once. I doubt that money is an object or that a lot of decision-making goes into his decisions. But, that’s a really cool… What is this?”

“It’s the Potty Perfector 900!” Ray said. “It works as a light, a seat warmer, and has interesting facts and stories to tell when you’re stuck on the pot!”

“That is one of the most amazing things ever invented!” Jasper said and steadied his backpack between his knees so that he could study the Potty Perfector 900 box.

“See, Charlotte? Whenever you put some THOUGHT into things, it shows how much you care about a person,” Ray said.

Charlotte nodded, “Thank you, of all people, for that life lesson. So… What’d you write on Jasper’s card?”

“Card? He’s got an amazing gift. That says it all.”

“Oh, okay,” She said.

“Why? Did you write something on a card?” Ray wondered. “I did.” She smiled and finally left the conversation, with a tousle of Jasper’s hair and a “Birthday boy!” cheer. He nearly lost his breath when she touched him, but it was over before he knew it, and she was out of the picture. He held his Potty Perfector 900 in and embrace and watched her walk to the elevator.

“She’s amazing,” Jasper mused.

Ray laughed and said, “Good one! Guess somebody got you a sense of humor for your birthday.”

Jasper rolled his eyes and set down his present, to go back to Charlotte’s present. Turned out that not only was there a bucket in the backpack, but in each little compartment of the backpack, she hid small trinkets and treats that she knew he would like. One of them was the birthday card, with her message insert.

Jasper,

It’s a special time of year, to me. Whenever your birthday comes around, it’s summer and we’re already feeling great and enjoying life. But, this year, it was even more special to me. Not only have you finally (technically) become a man, but you and I got even closer this summer than we’ve ever been in all of the years that we’ve been friends. I’ve learned things about you that make me so proud to be someone that you call a friend and I can’t wait to experience even more with you. One thing that I’ve been thinking about is your confession that your middle name is TBD, because your parents never got around to granting you an actual middle name. But, the thing that I’ve been thinking about is how funny it is that the name TBD worked out for you.

“To Be Determined” was meant as an uncertain placeholder, but turned out to be a prophecy. Because, Jasper Dunlop, you are one of the most determined people that I’ve ever known. Whenever you set your mind to something, you practically kill yourself trying to see it through. You never worry about what people will think of you or how you’ll look when you set out to do whatever it is that’s on your heart to do. Your middle name might be TBD, but you, Jasper, are actually quite determined. And that’s why I love you. You’re strong, resilient, and steadfast. You’re a pillar in my life and I’m glad to wish you another year. Hopefully we have many more together.

Happy Birthday, Jasper.

Love Always,

Your Friend, Charlotte.

Charlotte's parents were out and she was off, so walking around the house in a sleepwear short set with fuzzy unicorn slippers and a ponypuff as she prepared for bed was all she had plans to do. Whenever there was a knock and a doorbell ring, her first thought was that it was Jasper. But, why would he be there? She went to the peephole and gasped. It WAS Jasper!

She rushed around, trying to maybe change or something, but her room was way across the house and even if she got there, she wouldn't have been able to change quickly, and… Jasper put his face up to the window and said, "Charlotte, I see you! Open the door!"

She rolled her eyes and did just that. She opened the door and feigned happiness, "Jasper! I… wasn't expecting company."

"Right. You look so silly right now," he said, laughing. "No biggie. I came by to give you something." He opened his backpack as he explained, "One of my birthday presents was a gift card to Asking for Truffle, so I bought a gift box of some flavors I thought you might like."

He handed her a box that looked a little bit like a treasure chest. "There's a white chocolate lemon cream, creme brulee, of course, peaches and champagne, pecan praline pie…"

She opened the box to see gold foil wrapped truffles and a little card that read: For Charlotte. "Jasper, you're not supposed to be spending your gift cards on somebody else."

"I know. But, you should be getting spoiled and how often am I in a position to do so?"

She shook her head and tried to hand it back, but he stepped back, out of reach. "Nope. I ordered it for you. No take backsies. Also, you look adorable. I was just picking, earlier."

"Jasper…"

"Thanks for the card. It was powerful."

"Okay. Thanks for the… Expensive truffles they were supposed to be for you." Her fave was so damn warm, and when he smiled, it got even warmer. By the time he left, she was speechless. Apparently, her stepping back and bringing things back to normal didn't stick. That boy really was determined.

#A Chasper Fic #Chasper #Henry Danger #Charlotte Page #Jasper Dunlop

9 notes · View notes

jeffgoldblumss · 6 years ago

Text

21 things about me and 21 tagged

I was tagged by @charlesdances which seriously made me so, so happy??? thank you???? I don’t know how to handle someone actually wanting to know about me hahaha oh boy. anyways! yes thank you for the tag!!

nickname/s: ash, uni (short for unicorn), pir (short for pirate), and glitzy... I’ve circled around a few different internet haunts with different names so I have a ton of nicknames my friends refer to me by. Ash is the obvious one that everyone calls me by. zodiac sign: sagittarius (sun), capricorn (moon) height: 5′2″ hogwarts house: hufflepuff last thing I googled: “physical expressions when someone is ashamed” ....can you tell I’m a writer? lmfao I was trying to make sure I’d correctly explained how a character looked ashamed. fave music: alternative rock, rock, some alternative hip hop, some punk, some pop... I tend to have a very, very broad taste in music and can like just about anything tbh. but I pry listen to/gravitate towards alternative rock the most. song stuck in my head: do I wanna know? by the arctic monkeys what I follow: a suuuper wide variety of stuff. my main blog is just a mix. followers: 🤫 do I get asks: yes! I have a few requests I’ve been dying to do forever, people used to send me their jeff goldblum dreams which was always a real treat, and I just get a lot of random asks here and there. I LOVE it. so, so much. even if I don’t have time to respond to them quickly, I just really love them... it gives me the warm fuzzies when someone takes time out of their day and chooses it to talk to me :> amount of sleep: I need much, much more. Right now I’m getting around 4 - 6 hours during the week and 6 - 9 hours on the weekends. lucky numbers: I honestly don’t think I have one? like... I used to be so stunned by this question because I never could come up with one or even think about any lucky coincidental numbers that’d happened in my life. eventually I just started telling people it was 23 instead of explaining that I don’t think I have one. what I’m wearing: tank-top and some little cotton shorts with cute cartoon unicorns on them, cause I’m adorable. dream job: published author!!!! making a living off my writing!!!!!! please!!! dream trip: a year-long tour throughout europe, where I spend multiple months in the biggest countries so I can really soak in the day-to-day and get a feel for the places, and get to experience everything I want to experience. favorite food: PASTA. also, mac n cheese. which... i guess is a pasta? my mom specifically showed up at my house one day and handed me a pot she bought special for me when she saw it in the store because it had a built-in strainer and she was like, “cause you make so much mac n cheese” lmfao instruments: that I play? that I like? I don’t play any, but I love watching people play guitar, bass, piano, or the violin. languages: english and then some very butchered, very weak spanish. I’m trying to force myself to get back into strengthening it again so I can speak it more fluently. favorite songs: juice by lizzo, betterman by honors, the drug in me is you by falling in reverse, do i wanna know? by arctic monkeys (this one has a very personal attachment to me), heroin by badflower, me and my shadow by jeff goldblum and the mildred snitzer orchestra ft. sarah silverman, thank u jeff by james corden, medication by damian marley, stephen marley, wiz khalifa, lying is the most fun... by p!atd, i don’t care by fall out boy, the sharpest lives by mcr, and like so many more random fact: this month will be my nine-year anniversary of working at a men’s prison. (and you wonder why my dream is to be able to quit work and instead do something I love? lmfao) aesthetic: baby pink and bright blue, fluffy, big cotton candy, uncontrollable, contagious laughter spilling over until you cry, unicorns, flower crowns, baby deer, golden retrievers wagging their tail so hard, their whole body shakes, the golden age of piracy (romanticized), and GLITTER

tagging: whoever wants to do this! no! seriously!!! I really do want to get to know all of you who follow this blog, especially if you’ve been following for some time! Names I recognize always pull me to their blogs, and I read your guys’ tags and the stuff you say when you reblog it. SO YEAH I really do want to get to know you! So if you feel like sharing, copy this and @ me so I can see it!!!!

#ashley speaks #not jeff goldblum related #long post #!!! this made me so happy #seriously just made my day :D

7 notes · View notes

thelazyhermits · 6 years ago

Text

Into Anontale, pt.2

The city was surprisingly busy, cars in the streets, but everyone in the city seemed to be a monster. Sans landed in an alley and set you down. He pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around you and pulled your hood up. “CAN’T HAVE YOU CAUSE A PANIC NOW, CAN WE? LET ALONE WHAT ALPHYS MIGHT THINK-”

“About what?” Because nothing could ever be easy, Alphys had apparently noticed Sans anime-protagonisting above the streets.

“CAPTAIN!” Sans said, snapping to attention at her voice. “UH… FANCY MEETING YOU HERE!”

“Sans, who is that?” Alphys asked. She crossed her arms at his hesitation, revealing just how ripped the short lizard got as captain of the royal guard.

“…MY GIRLFRIEND!” he said, pulling you to his side with a grin. “Play Along,” he hissed. “IT’S HER BIRTHDAY TODAY AND I KNEW YOU’D FEEL SO BAD MISSING ANY BAKING BY THE AMAZING SANS!! I SUPPOSE IF SHE’S OKAY WITH IT, YOU COULD STILL HAVE SOME OF MY AMAZING GLITTERCAKE-”

“N-no, that’s okay,” Alphys said, quickly backpedaling. “When did you two even meet?”

“Oh, not terribly long ago, but how could I refuse someone so sweet and that has just a sparkling personality?” you said, feeling Sans stiffen as Alphys snorted in amusement. When you looked, his grin hadn’t faltered but his eyelights had vanished, making him look entirely dead inside.

“You met her through Papyrus, didn’t you?” Alphys chuckled.

“UNFORTUNATELY, IT SEEMS.” Surprisingly, his dead expression didn’t seem to effect his tone. “BUT, SPEAKING OF HIM, YOU WOULDN’T HAPPEN TO HAVE SEEN HIM RECENTLY?”

“Uh, yeah actually, if he’s in his kigurumi. Saw him napping on that bench in front of Hapsta’s building.”

“THANKS, CAPTAIN!” Sans pulled you behind him and ran off. “THAT’S ACTUALLY REALLY WEIRD,” he said, explaining as you both ran. “HE’S A REALLY LIGHT SLEEPER, HE CAN’T SLEEP OUTSIDE BECAUSE OF IT.”

“Maybe the glitch is making him?” You stopped him when you noticed the air in the street shimmer. It was replaced by a confused skeleton in a pink unicorn kigurumi, who noticed you both instead of the truck heading for him.

“PAPYRUS-!!!” The crunch before the world bugged out rang in your ears, and you were back in the apartment. The sob from the kitchen had you running to pull Sans into your arms, large tears running down his face.

“It’s okay, he’s okay,” you soothed. “He undid it, he’s okay. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.” You rubbed his spine as he clung to you. Seeing a Papyrus hit by a truck gave you uncomfortable flashbacks to Captain’s death, so you have at least a bit of an idea of how traumatic that was for him.

It’s a good five minutes before he’s gotten calm enough to pull away, scrubbing at his face. “STARS, PAPY…” He sounded broken. “OKAY, NEW PLAN!” He flung open the door and picked you up again, doing his bone-jumping technique and heading right for where it’d happened. He set you down and snapped his fingers, his clothes changing into a black coat with yellow circuit lines on it, his yellow clubs scarf stayed, as did his black pants and yellow boots, but he seemed to have a white buttonup now, as well as a mask on.

“Is… Is that the tumblr anon face?” you asked, confused.

“VERY POSSIBLY! I DIDN’T CHOOSE THE MASK,” he said, not really paying attention as he waved his hands in front of him, creating a yellow hologram screen and keyboard. “LET’S SEE IF I REMEMBER HOW TO DO THIS…” he said, typing.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching text and fingers fly.

“EVERYTHING, EXCEPT YOU APPARENTLY, IS MADE OF CODE. EVEN UNDOING WHAT HAPPENED, PAPY SHOULD HAVE LEFT BEHIND REMAINDERS I CAN USE TO TRACK DOWN HIS SOURCE CODE. THUS, I CAN FIND HIM.”

“And the outfit?”

“IS DESIGNED TO HIDE ME FROM THE FIREWALL AND THE ANTI-HACKER PROGRAMS. BECAUSE THIS IS SUPER ILLEGAL AND DANGEROUS.”

“Firewall…? Are we in a computer?” you asked, surprised.

“YOU ARE IN A COMPUTER, I AM PART OF ONE. I’M AN ANTI-VIRUS PROGRAM, LIKE ALPHYS! PAPYRUS IS EARLY DETECTION SOFTWARE, UNDYNE IS DIAGNOSTIC SOFTWARE, AND SO ON!” he said. “GOT HIM!” He put away his screen and snapped his clothes back. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

You both stopped at an abandoned construction site, and Sans pointed out a pink shape on a girder hanging from a crane. He let go and began doing his bone-jumping to get up there, and you got to watch as the glitch appeared over the cord and broke it, though Papyrus apparently woke up in time to Undo it before he hit the ground this time.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!” Sans snapped, looking stressed. “THE DAYLIGHT SHOULD WAKE HIM UP!! OR THE BIRDS!! HE SHOULD BE ABLE TO WAKE HIMSELF UP AND TELEPORT HOME!!”

“The glitch has to be keep him asleep until the last second,” you said. “It cut the rope when you got close last time, so that means you probably could wake him up. We just need something big enough that could wake him up from a distance once we find him.”

Sans paused, staring at nothing. “…SON OF A BITCH, I COULD’VE DONE THAT FROM THE START!!” he groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “YOU’RE BRILLIANT, I’M DUMB, THANK YOU,” he added, pressing a kiss to your cheek before scooping you up again, seemingly oblivious to your blush, his eyelights having turned to daisies in excitement.

A bone-jump trip to the construction yard and a repeat of the tracing process lead you both to a secluded part of a junkyard.

“I’D LIKE TO APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR WHAT YOU’RE ABOUT TO SEE, AND ALSO FOR ANY SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT YOU MAY EXPERIENCE. HOWEVER, AS I HAVE SEEN MY BROTHER DIE TWICE TODAY, I NO LONGER HAVE ANY SHAME WHATSOEVER!!!”

At your slightly perplexed nod, Sans immediately broke down into hysterical tears, throwing himself onto the garbage like a Victorian fainting couch. “PAPY!! HELP!! I’M GONNA BE DELETED!!!” he wailed.

Instantly, Papyrus appeared and scooped him into his pink fuzzy arms. Despite the pink unicorn onesie, the sheer aura of Bad Time made you take a step back, eye blazing a bright purple, free hand having a cluster of sharpened bones pointed your way.

“Wait, no, not me! I’m helping!” you said, flinching to try and protect your head.

“PAPY, NO, SHE IS HELPING!!” Sans said, turning his brother’s head to break his glare on you. You could swear a heavy metal remix of Megalovania was playing in your head. “WE JUST NEEDED YOU TO WAKE UP!!”

“i sure hope there’s an actual reason i keep dying,” Papyrus said, lowering the unicorn head hood to reveal he had a burnt orange nightcap on under it with a heart pompom on the end. “because the whole ‘not able to wake up until seconds from death’ thing is getting tiring.”

“PAPY!!” Sans groaned, thunking his head against Papyrus’ shoulder. Papyrus just smirked of you.

“I’m Y/N, I’m from another world,” you said. Between you and Sans, it didn’t take long to get him up to speed. “Also, do you mind if I give you guys nicknames? It’d make it easier to talk about you guys to other Sanses and Papyruses, though I’d still call you guys Sans and Papyrus here.”

“sure, sister,” Papyrus said. With him still and more relaxed now, it became obvious how exhausted he was. Somehow a skull had bags under his eyesockets, he stood hunched despite supporting his brother one-handed, but you knew first hand how light the skeletons were.

“I’D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR IDEAS!!” By contrast, you figured if Sans wasn’t being held by his brother still, he’d probably be bouncing, bright-eyed and full of energy.

“How about Peppy for Sans?” you suggested.

“I LIKE IT!!!”

“suits him,” Papyrus said, looking pleased. “it’ll put a real pep in his step.”

“BROTHER NO!! Y/N!! YOU HAVE ONLY GIVEN HIM MORE PUN AMMUNITION!!” He struggled to get down, but Papyrus apparently had a good grip on him.

“aw, c’mon, bro. i promise i’ll only pep-per them in occasionally.”

“PUT ME DOWN, YOU HEATHEN!!”

You can’t help it, you start laughing at their antics, which brings a genuine smile to Papyrus’ face, which makes him not look so tired.

“Uh… For Papyrus… How about Punny?” It feels forced. Normally you go with your first instinct, but you don’t wand to be rude.

“sister, you and i both know that isn’t what you thought of,” Papyrus said, free hand on his hip. “shoot straight and just say what we all know you thought of,” he added as he let go of Sans, causing his younger brother to grunt on impact with the ground.

You cringe at being called out like that. “I thought about calling you ‘Sleepy’, if I’m honest.”

“see? doesn’t that feel less awkward?” Papyrus said. “besides, my baby bro calls me that all the time.” Papyrus held a hand out to you and pulled you into a hug when you took it. “thank you, for helping save me.” He pulled Sans into the hug and teleported home.

“YOU CAN’T NAP, YOU’LL START IT ALL OVER AGAIN,” Sans said, before he hurried into the kitchen to try and salvage dinner.

“so, sister,” papyrus said, keeping his voice down. “i don’t like my brother in danger, how’s about you and i take this to the source code of the problem and fix this fast?”

“You can do that?” You asked, surprised.

“sister,” he sighed, pausing to snap his fingers. A black coat not unlike Sans’, only purple instead of yellow replaced the kigurumi, a white shirt under a purple vest, with matching crisp white slacks and purple dress shoes, the elegance of the outfit ruined by the apparently constant burnt orange nightcap, and the fact his anon mask somehow looked as exhausted as he did. “i’m the second-best hacker this computer’s ever seen. i can find that glitchy code anywhere it tries to hide.”

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! I love this so much!!! Peppy is so adorable!! What a freakin sweetheart XD I love the premise of this world, being a part of a computer system is really cool. The special outfits are awesome. I grinned when Gli-chan asked about the Tumblr mask haha

#submission #anontale #the part with pretending to be Pep's girlfriend was great #I loved his reaction to the puns XD #Peppy's dramatic crying was exactly what I was hoping for #freakin perfect haha #you were really cool here Sleepy #I like your nickname for her #it's really cute <3 #I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next! ^^

35 notes · View notes