#s so sad though even with colleagues who are nice to me or that i otherwise like as soon as they start talking 'lifestyle' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jangofctts · 3 years ago

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A Burning Hill (Batman/Bruce Wayne x fem!reader)

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: !!spoilers!!, some fluff!!, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving), cum eating, vaginal fingering, face sitting, slight praise kink, mentions of violence/death, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

a/n: not too proud abt this one but oh well hope you enjoy!!! thank you for your patience!

The funeral is drab, and the weather even worse. The crowd is a swath of black—solemn faces of the mayor’s colleagues and bitter contempt of the public who emerged to pay homage, or to spit on the mayor’s casket. You can’t blame them for that. You’d rather mingle with the crowd than be standing on the smooth steps of the town hall—scrutinized for whatever the public assumes you’ve done wrong.

Your mother is a tipping point—you love her, you really do, but Christ she’s overwhelming. Swarmed by cameras, gaudy public statements and hounded by media is not your cup of tea. Senator Nahdi thrives in it. It’s a good thing your parents all but scrubbed away your existence—different last name, no sight of you on campaigns or honorable mentions—a ghost. If anything, you’re mistaken as her assistant and not as her daughter.

It’s for the best.

The one sprig of happiness you can find in this situation is Bruce. He doesn’t want to be here, brushing elbows with elitists and media alike—you know that. But he’s come anyway. For you.

Though, being a reclusive billionaire does have it’s drawbacks. The second he steps out of his vintage car and hands the valet his keys, the media is upon him like piranhas. It’s impressive the poise he keeps—you flinch after every shutter of the lens and bright flash. You’re too used to being behind the scenes.

To keep the media and their grubby, little hands out of your business, you wait for Bruce to find you through the crowd. You’re tucked behind one of the great, big columns upholding the overhanging ceiling, right by the double doors. Your mother stands a couple paces away, preaching to the choir of cameras. You watch Bruce spot her through the crowd and wander through the sea of bodies. Upon seeing him, your mother sweeps him into a spine-crushing hug.

“Tch,” you hear her scoff as she pulls away. She pinches his sunken cheek. “So pale—and skinny. Does Alfred not feed you, Bruce?”

Bruce shrugs. Whatever he says is too quiet for you to hear.

You mother waves her hand and proceeds to straighten the lapels on his overcoat. “Bah—at least you look decent,” she says, manicured hand reaching higher to adjust a strand of hair that falls over his forehead. She purses her mauve-painted lips, an uncharacteristic trace of sadness pooling in her eyes. “You look just like your father.”

Bruce looks away, drawing into himself. “Is Blue here?”

Senator Nahdi casts an imprudent stare over her shoulder. “Yes, yes—go find your little shadow—she’s embarrassed to be seen with me.”

You roll your eyes.

Bruce lifts his chin, keen eyes easily fining your little hiding spot. You offer him a short wave.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles to your mother, but she pays hardly any mind, more concerned with the reporter that jams a microphone into her space bubble.

Bruce reaches the pillar, a tiny smile ghosting over his lips. You look him up and down, and blurt the first thing that comes to mind. After all, you’re bound too be nervous. Last time you saw him, he was knuckle deep inside of you. “You look nice—I never see you in clothes.”

He lifts a brow. You wince and slap a hand over your forehead. “Fuck—that sounded weird, didn’t it?”

“A little bit,” he snorts, cupping your arm and drawing you further away from the crowd. Tucked around the corner where prying eyes would have trouble seeing you. He pins his back to the wall and invites you into his space, cold hand reaching for yours. You give it to him. “But I know what you mean.”

You roll your tongue over your lips. His eyes drop to the motion, then back up, slowly and without care for your fragile state of normalcy. “That—that’s good.”

His thumb rubs an easy line over your knuckles, dry from the weather and your excessive use of latex gloves on the job. Bruce cups your hand between his palms and brings it to his lips. They’re searing against your flesh. “Your hands are freezing—where are your gloves?”

“You’re not wearing any, either,” you point out. “If you can stand the cold, so can I.”

Bruce laughs at that. He cups your face with his other hand and pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. As the flesh bounces back, his thumb comes to rest on your chin. “Alfred said I should invite you for tea again.”

You grin. “Are you going to?”

“Maybe,” he says, craning his neck down while lifting your chin up. “Would you say yes?”

There’s hesitancy in those solemn, blue eyes. Bruce still tiptoes around you and you don’t blame him. This is new territory—the feelings were always there—but acting upon them is a whole new beast. “Maybe.”

Bruce huffs through his nose, and dips his head lower. His lips skim yours and your heart bursts with a myriad of spectral colors and the pang of childhood. You bridge the gap and kiss him with such ardency, the very stars ache in want. But your mind always finds the sadness in situations that involve Bruce Wayne. He doesn’t pretend that he’s whole, and if he were laid upon a train track, you’re not sure he would move. If a knife were buried into his spine, nestled the fragile vertebrae, he’d say it can’t hurt worse than he already does. He’d bleed out into the streets before he asks for help or reveals the inner workings of his tumultuous heart.

You could never stomach heartbreak, though, could you? So what exactly is this, that you’re doing to yourself? What would you call this? You blister at the sight and feel of anything less than ideal—but here, balancing between Bruce and Vengeance, you call agony sacrosanct.

You break away, the humidity of your breathing mixing harshly with the frosty air. His cologne drowns your nostrils as you bury your face into his chest. “Blue, I—”

Someone, somewhere in the nearby crowd utters a name that causes Bruce to stiffen—you don’t recognize the name Falcone. His face falls into a stony mask. Bruce untangles himself from you, parts his lips as if to explain himself, then falls back to a shitty; “I gotta go.”

“Wait!” You call, snatching his coat sleeve. “Bruce—hang on.”

He doubles back and unlatches your fingers from his sleeve. He presses a kiss to your chilled knuckles. “I’ll see you later, Blue. I promise.”

You face twists as Bruce slips around the corner and gets lost in the crowd.

You don’t see him later.

In fact—the whole fucking funeral turns to shit. You can’t even begin to explain what happened—another attack—a bomb collar and a catalogue of riddles only the Batman is allowed to answer. You don’t get to see the end of it—you’re ushered outside by SWAT, corralled into questioning and emergency management outside.

The worst of it happens in the blink of an eye. The bomb explodes.

SWAT rushes in and there’s some kind. Of sick kneading in your belly that pushes up your throat. You’re trying to shove the panic back down—swallowing and choking on air as though you were never able to make your body do anything but shake.

For all you know, Bats is blown to bits. Bruce is missing and you can’t find your mother in the sea of chaos. You cannot let yourself spiral and so the rest of the day is spent in a stupor—fumbling for any scrap of news as the paramedics move through the crowd that they managed to keep under their care. You’re able to escape once you flash your badge—fighting your will to search the streets looking for a piece of those you care for.

Miraculously, you find your way home. And while you’re stuck in a position of forced immobility, you still have a phone. Your mother is first—it goes straight to voicemail yet your father assures you over text that her phone is simply dead. No need to worry. You’ll believe it when you see it, but for now it’s enough.

Bruce comes next. You call the tower, cursing the fact that Bruce lives like a fucking haunted Victorian child when it comes to technology. On the second call, your nails chewed to the quick, Alfred picks up the landline. “Alfred—thank god. It’s Blue.”

“Miss Blue,” Alfred greets, “I heard the news. Are you alright, darling?”

“Peachy,” you sniff, fighting back the way your throat cinches up tight. “Is Bruce home?”

You cross your fingers.

“I’m afraid not, dear,” Alfred relays. “I wouldn’t worry yourself. Master Wayne has a habit of disappearing in the worst of times.”

“Oh,” you say, voice wobbling.

“Would you like to leave a message, love?”

“Will you tell him I called?”

“Of course,” Alfred assures. “Take care of yourself, Miss Blue.”

Alfred hangs up. Your chest sinks as tears flood your eyes, scrambling for another solution—if only to keep your mind occupied. It’s a long shot, but you’re determined—you’ll call every damned hospital in Gotham if that’s what it takes.

You get halfway through the list with no results, and just as you’re about to dial the seventh hospital’s number, another caller intercepts the call. “Gordon—” You answer midway through the first ring.

“Hey, kiddo,” Gordon responds. “How’re you holding up?”

“Fine, fine,” you say. “What happened? Is he ok?”

Gordon doesn’t have to guess as to who this “he” you’re referencing is. He sighs through the phone. “Yeah—guy is like a fuckin’ tank. Hits like one too.”

Your heart jumps—at least Vengeance is ok. You sigh and rub at your tired eyes. “That’s a relief.”

“Mhm,” Gordon hums. “He told me to give you a call, y’know.”

You chest seizes.

Your tongue rolls over your teeth. You try to play it cool. “He did?”

“I’m not stupid, Blue,” Gordon pokes. “I’m old, but I know when someone’s keeping secrets.”

You clench your jaw as an icy wash trickles down your spine. You clam up. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

The other end crackles as Gordon sighs. “Just be careful, kid. People like him hide their face for a reason.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I got it.”

“Right. And just to make it clear—don’t sacrifice your career for whatever is going on between you and him.”

Never in your life had you wanted a phone call to end so desperately. You hastily agree, say your curt goodbyes and smash the hangup icon. Jesus Fucking Christ. Were you really that obvious? Fuck, you can’t thin about that right now—that’s a shit show for later.

You’re not really sure how many hours pass after that—enough that you fall into a hazy sleep on the couch, plagued by stress dreams. You jolt awake as something pounds against your living room window, a black mass of armor and lanky limbs crawling through the space like an unwanted shadow. Your fear dissipates the moment you see the pointed ears. You should be a little concerned or pissed that Bats is breaking in, but all you can manage is a relief upon seeing him wedge himself through the frame. It’s a little funny—less so when a pained curse echos through the room.

Brain still muddled with sleep, you don’t think to help him. Bats stumbles to his feet, takes two strides towards you and and drops heavily to his knees. A grunt follows, punched out and wheezy that scrapes against his diaphragm. You’re hanging halfway off your couch as you catch his head, guiding him to rest on your lap instead of knocking his forehead into the coffee table. Fuck.

It’s a miracle Bats is alive, let alone standing.

Well, not really standing—he’s sorta crumpled into a ball, using your thighs as a headrest. He takes quick, shallow breaths as light tremors wrack through his frame. “I got you—don’t worry.”

And so you hold him like this. Wondering if you both are still just friends, or coworkers, acquaintances, shadows, or less than a spark. Even if it’s his breathe on you neck late at night or if it’s your laced fingers in the dark. How tightly do you need to be pressed against each other before you admit that you aren’t doing this for warmth? How many times does his thumb need to brush your lips before you both realize that you’ve gone too far?

“You—you need to lock your windows.”

Not really what you were expecting him to say, but then again, he’s not the predictable sort. “But then I’ll never get helpless, dark and mysterious visitors in the night,” you smile, teasing your thumbs over the sharp points of his cowl.

He makes a noise low in his throat. “Exactly—you’re too nice.”

You puff out your bottom lip. “Aw—scared of me finding another vigilante to mess around with?”

Bats shifts closer, gloved fingers crawling up your exposed thighs and settling on the swell of your hips. “You could get robbed.”

He doesn’t answer your question, but the way Bat’s hands tighten around your hips are more than enough evidence to draw a conclusion. You roll your eyes and gesture to the room. “I don’t think this place screams decadence—what would they even take? My Danny DeVito pillow?”

“Carelessness is an open door for disaster,” he mutters. “Don’t invite it.”

Your face scrunches. “You sound like my grandpa.”

Bats says nothing in response, content to simply lay here like this. You’d let him too if you were kinder—but you have hardwood floors and the kneepads he wears can only negate so much pressure. Your ass is slipping off the cushions too, but you know once you adjust he’ll bail. So you stay, fighting gravity and the weight of his upper body leaning onto you.

You stroke a finger down his stubbled jawline and his eyes flutter—still hyper aware but driving to sleep. The black greasepaint hides the skin around his eyes, but you know if you wiped it away, you’d find dark circles beneath. He’s adopted the night and all it brings, but humans are not nocturnal, and the life he chooses is taxing.

“Batsy,” you say, “let’s go hangout in my bed, yeah?”

His eye cracks open, the sliver of his blue iris, stark against the black paint. His throat bobs as he swallows. “I’m fine here.”

It’s not a refusal, but his way of telling you that he can bear the discomfort. He should know that he doesn’t have to—never with you. “C’mon. I have a memory foam topper.”

“I’ll ruin the sheets—armor is dirty,” Batsy asserts softly. Each time he speaks, his stubble scrapes the soft flesh of your thighs—you suppress a shiver.

“I don’t care,” you retort. Your hands drop to his arms, fingers finding the straps of his vambraces. You chew he inside of your cheek and study the black mass of armor. It rests heavy on his shoulders and can’t be that comfortable. Not after being blown up, that’s for fucking sure. You take a breathe and leap into unknown territory. “Besides…you can take all this off. I’ll help you.”

The muscles in his jaw work as Bats considers your offer. His will tonight is no doubt whittled to the bone—making this gargantuan dip into vulnerability a tad easier. If you caught Bats at a earlier time he’d probably say no and leave.

His pink tongue rolls over his cracked, bottom lip. “Can’t…my face—”

“You can leave your helmet on,” you quickly interject, desperate to keep him on the hook.

Bat’s fingers furl into the waistband of your shorts. “Risky.”

“Why?” You question. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Too much,” Bats sighs. Your heart skips into an uneven rhythm. “You’re a liability.”

Your mouth drops into a frown. “Wow, thank you. I’ll make sure to jot that down right next to distrac—”

“Blue,” Vengeance scolds. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You quirk a brow and pinch his cheek. “What did you mean, then?”

He grumbles under his breath and closes his eyes, mulling over his words three times over before he even thinks to say anything. It’s a familiar quirk—you know someone who does the same thing, but the name is lost on you…not that it really matters right now. Bats’ shoulders lift as he takes a deep breath, deflating as he exhales. “The funeral—you could’ve been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t,” you sniff, “and you can’t blame me for going. I was there as a courtesy for my mom.”

Bats sighs deeply. “I’m saying, what happened there, was my fault.”

“Oh.”

That’s not really fair, you think. No one can control a situation like that. Sure, maybe Vengeance is a catalyst to these events, but that doesn’t mean what follows solely rests on his shoulders.

“I can’t let you get hurt because of me,” he adds, brokenly.

“Good thing I’m smart enough to stay away from the wrong people,” you say. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m here,” Bats presses, as if the very presence of him is sinful in nature.

You roll your eyes and ruin your fingers along a deep scratch in his helmet. “You’re the right sort of wrong.”

He doesn’t point out your hypocrisy.

“Let’s go to my room,” you suggest again. “We’ll turn the lights off.”

He’s on the precipice of listening.

“Let me take care of you.”

He cracks—gives way like fine china against stone.

You gather him Ito your arms, allowing him to rest his weight on you as you usher him to your room. The first part is easy as he strips off the first layer of compact armor like second nature, his boots and heavy tactical pants. You rest them over your dresser and when you return you close the blinds and reach for the light switch.

Your room plummets into darkness. Once you find your way to the bed, you’re happily surprised to find that Bats has stripped to nakedness—including his helmet. You buzz with excitement as your hands reach for him. He lays on his back as you scoot beside him, as you toss your pajamas to the floor. Just as naked as he is. “See? Not so bad.”

“No,” he agrees, running his hands up your arms and urging you closer.

You don’t care, that as you press your lips to his, it screams urgency. Breathlessly tattooing your relief onto his tongue and the hollow of his throat. By now, he doesn’t need to press his hand to your chest to hear your heart’s truth. He can feel the honesty in your fingertips trailing down his face. Bats opens his mouth, voice raspy with need, as he runs his nails down your spine. “I’m ok, Blue. I’m ok.”

You’ll take his word for it, even if you can hear the way his breath stutters each time your hands come across a mottled bruise. It’s for the best you can’t see him right now—you’d be throwing a fit over his health. And so, to distract yourself from your fretful mind, your ideas drift to more pleasurable things.

You use the line of his body as a guide in the darkness. Carefully shuffling back and coming to rest between his legs that part for you. You lay onto your stomach, and rest your head on his upper thigh. Your hand slides over his opposite leg and inward. His leg jumps as you traverse from his inner thigh up to the crease of his hip.

“What are you doing?” He croaks.

“Sucking you off,” you say, nonchalant and cool. Not like you’ve been thinking about this on the daily since the first time. Definitely not. “Can I?”

Bats’ inhale shakes as your thumb rubs innocent circles over the sharp protrusion of his hipbone. He shifts and cups your face. You lean into his calloused palm. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you plead. Your hand drifts from his hip to his cock, pleasantly surprised that he’s already half hard. Bats grunts as your fingers wrap around the base of him, coaxing him to his full length as you roll your palm up and down his cock. “Please?”

The bedsheets rustle as they’re clenched tightly between Bats’ fist. His fingers twitch against your cheek. You can hear him sigh in the dark. “You convinced me.”

You huff through your nose. “You’re right, you know. I do always get what I want.”

“Spoiled,” he specifies. He pauses and then quietly adds, “you deserve it.”

You smile and press a kiss into his hipbone. “So do you.”

Before he can disagree with you, you cut him off by dragging your hot tongue from his groin and all the way up his cock. You finish by suckling the tip into the soft warmth of your mouth. You’re working with touch alone, a bit disappointed you don’t get to see all of him, but oh well. Touch will do.

Bats’ murmur of your name devolves into a rough groan as your tongue swirls around the underside of his tip and over the leaking slit. Bats takes a deep, shaky breath through his nose and threads his bruised fingers through your hair. You readjust and open your jaw wider, letting him fill your mouth and take him deeper. Not far enough he reaches the back of your throat, but enough to satisfy.

“Fuck,” he gasps, and you hum softly. You slide your tongue down his shaft and take him a bit deeper. His body stiffens under you as you begin to slowly bob up and down his cock and hollow your cheeks. You move your hand down to cup his balls, wetted by your saliva that’s dripped down, gently kneading them as your mouth works his cock. Batsy’s fingers tighten in your hair, hips rolling up to meet your lips each time they swallow down his length.

“Blue—” his voice is hoarse, fighting the urge to buck his hips and force you to take all of him into your mouth. You would if you could, but shit—your jaw aches and in no way is he small. His cock jumps on the flat of your tongue as you moan around him, your pace unhurried and sweet.

You slowly pull off him for a breath of air, kissing the tip of his cock and mouthing at the beads of precum that dribble down the tip. “Feel good?”

The moment he responds, it becomes a strangled whimper as you take him as deep as you can. Your nose briefly touches his heated skin and the sparse hair over his groin before you pull up, wrap your hands around his cock and slowly jerk him off into you mouth.

“I’m getting close—fuck,” he whispers, opening and closing his fingers around your hair, on the precipice of deciding how roughly he should grab it. Or not at all. You tighten your grip as he tenses under you, cock hard and pulsing. You twist your wrist and lave your tongue over the underside of him. “Wait—wait—” Bats grunts, tugging at the strands of your hair to get you to ease off.

You lift away, still close enough that when you talk, your lips brush his throbbing head. His cock twitches, abdominal muscles tensing under your touch, fighting his impeding orgasm. “It’s ok—you can cum in my mouth.”

He swears. “No I…I don’t want…fuck—”

Amused at his indecision, you sit up and lean over him, hands still working his cock. You miss his lips the first time and catch his chin. You adjust and kiss him open-mouthed and searing. Bats cups your jaw, allowing your tongue to slide into his mouth and suck on his lower lip.

“Blue,” Batsy moans, reaching for you when you pull back to sit on your haunches. “I wanna have you like this.”

Your hand leaves his cock as you find his lips once more in the dark. “What, naked?”

His silent laugh puffs against your cheek as he sweeps a palm up your bare back. “The armor—I can’t feel how soft you are.”

You catch his hands and tug them to your breasts, gasping as his cold fingers roll over your hardened nipples. “You can have me like this anytime you want.”

His inhale is choppy, as Bats helps you to straddle his waist. There’s a little fumbling around but eventually you settle, sinking into him like the missing piece of a puzzle, arms curling like second nature around his neck. You grasp at his hair, combing through the short strands, and wondering what color hair he has. A dark brown or black based on his stubble, you think. Blond doesn’t sit right with you.

You lips meet, wet and lustful as you languidly grind your cunt against his cock. Bats tugs your hips down against his, the two of you reveling in the sensation of your soaking pussy dragging up and down his cock, rock hard and searing.

“You’re always so wet for me,” he rasps. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Heart rushes to your cheeks. You kiss him again. “It’s because I like you, dummy.”

You don’t care that he doesn’t say it back. At least not with words. Bats plants a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “I know.”

Christ—you want him. With maddening intensity that tears you apart from the inside out. You can feel your desire, hot and dripping down his cock as you rub yourself wantonly against him. You can only imagine the sight of him like this, splayed out on your bed, just as depraved and desperate like you. Your chest stings. Maybe one day you’ll get to see him in his entirety, instead of the pieces he throws at you. Mercy and torture rolled into one.

You bite down on your bottom lip and place your hands on Bats’ toned hips, slowly rocking back and forth against the length of his cock, trapped between your soaking cunt and his stomach. Your eyes roll back as the simulation brushes perfectly over your clit. Bats seizes your hip and leans forward to lave the flat of his tongue over your nipple. You shudder as his calloused fingers find your other nipple, rolling the peaked bud between them. His mouth leaves you and the quickly cooling saliva makes you shiver.

“I want you inside me,” you whisper against his lips.

You push yourself upwards, legs splayed on either side of Bat’s lap, and reach down to take his cock into your hand. Fuck, he’s harder than steel. Bat’s hisses sharply through his teeth, murmuring gentle praise as you tease your clit with the wet head of his cock. You guide the tip down your slit and slot it against your aching hole. You push the slightest bit of him inside of you—choked groans and relived sighs are what follows. You moan as you both bask in that exquisite stretch of the first upwards roll of his hips. You’ll never get enough of this, you think, as your cunt envelopes the entirety of him. It’s an addiction you’ll gladly admit to. You reach for him, clutching at his shoulders and kissing him reverently. He swallows your heavy moans and cups your face between his large palms. Bats’ thumbs fondly skate over your cheekbones and you heart swells with hazy tenderness.

“Take what you want—there you go,” Batsy huffs out as you roll your hips. His hands drop to your waist and coax you into an easy pace. You take the hint and roll your hips back against his as he steadily arches into you. Like this, Bats has unrestricted access to toy with your breasts. He lavishes them in attention as you control the pace of his cock, fucking you slowly and languidly into your heat. You fold over him and let your head fall to the side as Bats peppers kisses along your jaw and behind your ear, murmuring sweet words to you between each gentle press of his lips on your skin.

“I wish I could see you ride me,” he states, lifting his hips to meet yours and nibbling your bottom lip between his teeth.

“You wanted—wanted the lights off,” you reply coyly, voice breathy and slightly uneven as you began to bounce on Bat’s cock. “Could’ve just blindfolded me.”

“It’s hard to think around you.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You don’t take his banter for granted. It’s true he and you are far too comfortable together, and for fuck’s sake—you don’t even know who he is. It should worry you but all you can dream about is him. Of heat—of his ivory teeth piercing through your flesh, all you golden soaked fantasies and pleasures dripping into his hungry mouth. He’s ripped you from orbit and now the only guiding glow in a world full of night and terror. It’s odd how quickly he’s become a staple in your life—a mutual mess of tangled heartstrings.

Ever the try hard, Bats stutters out a curse, and digs his heels into the mattress, bringing his knees up, under and behind you. The abrupt shift is enough to throw you off-guard. Your legs turn to jello as his hips thrust up. You squeak as you at the roughness and prop you hands onto his chest, somehow his cock spears even deeper. Tighter too, a sharper angle, what with the way your pussy clamps down around him. A rush of blazing heat envelops your lower half, dancing along the precipice of ecstasy. Bats’ lithe fingers snake between your splayed legs to toy with your clit, rubbing quick circles with three fingers as he murmurs sweet praise. His words are brittle kindling to a matchstick, and every inch of you burns for him.

“Sh-shit,” you warble. “I’m gonna cum—”

“I know. I can feel you.” Batts hisses in affirmation. His fingers over your clit doubles their efforts. You seize and whimper as he bypasses the hood and zeros in on the raw nerves. “Let go.”

No sooner had the words left Batsy's lips, you’re spiraling down into a whirlpool of an orgasm that consumes you entirely. Your back arches, brilliant colors bursting behind your tightly closed eyes. Or maybe they’re open—you can’t fucking tell, it’s dark as shit. Your hips snap voraciously against his to achieve the final bite of friction, and at this angle, the taught skin of Bats’ lower abdomen grazes sinfully against your clit with every buck of your hips. You jolt forward, ball your fists into his hair and whine against his mouth, shaking in his lap like you’ve touched a live wire.

Bats’ arms twist over your back, trapping you into his chest as he drives his cock into you, searching for his own end. You bleat his name and bury your teeth into his collarbone. A bruise will show up later on his pale flesh—a token reminder that he’s yours if only for a little while. One hand reaches down to grab a handful of your ass, kneading the pliable muscle and helping your hips shove down onto his upward thrusts. Fucking hell—you’re the one supposed to be doing all the work—

You nibble a line up to his jaw, feeling his pulse jump under your lips. You drag your slick, hot tongue over the sharp line of his jaw up to his ear. His hair tickles your cheek. “Cum in me—yeah, that’s it. Good—so good.”

It’s the same trick he pulls on you—makes sense that it’s equally devastating when used on him. Batsy’s broken cry is nearly enough to send you into a second orgasm as he lurching against you. He tilts his head, catches your lips and licks deep into your mouth. He cums, wild and deep inside you. Fuck, you wail at the sensation, tight cunt milking the throbbing length of him with endlessly wet, hot contractions as he grinds you both through the aching bliss. He kisses you in the way only a bleeding heart can—a tragedy stricken hero who feels undeserving of such tenderness.

His heart beats wildly beneath his breastbone, you can feel it’s thumping as you lay your shaky palm over his chest. He’s so…human like this. Bats’ legs flatten as his body unwinds, sharing in the post haze—there’s no rush this time. You two are allowed to just be. You laying atop him while his softening cock is still buried inside of you—a perfect situation, you think.

You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply. Rain and the faint scent of sweat remain on his skin…and something sweeter. A little like cologne—you take another sniff—yup, definitely cologne. At least the remnant base nodes, either way it sparks dejavú. Fuzzy recollections come up short—it’s hard to place a memory with a scent if you don’t know what you’re looking for, or a comparison.

Bats weaves his hands into your hair and lightly scratches your scalp. You melt into him with a purr. “Why are you sniffing me?”

You snicker and nip at his jaw. “You smell nice,” you can’t contain your mischievous smile, “I like your cologne, by the way.”

The way his body stiffens is nigh imperceptible, but considering you’re using him as a body pillow at the moment, you’re clued in to his reactions. Bats’ throat bobs as your teasing nips morph into sloppy kisses that you plant down the column of his throat. “I’m not wearing any.”

“Liar,” you whisper, feeling his pulse jump. You grunt as his hips shift, sore cunt clenching at the loss of his cock as it slips out. A gush of liquid, a mix of his cum and yours, spill onto his abdomen.

He says nothing—a tactic to neither dig a bigger grave nor save his skin. A purgatory of secrets he’s not willing to share. You can respect that—you’re not really sure you’re ready to bear the burden of his secret identity and all it’s potential consequences just yet—neither is he. You roll your eyes at yourself—you need to stop poking your nose into trouble and expecting it not to bite back.

You jolt as two curious fingers dip into your sensitive slit. He smears the added wetness, up to your clit that stings from abuse, and down to your weeping entrance. You whine and dig your nails into his chest—Bats makes no move to increase his speed, he’s simply enjoying the easy glide between your swollen lips and the nosies it rakes out of you. He unabashedly stokes the embers of your arousal to life and you know it’s a distraction. You don’t really care.

Batsy nudges his nose into your forehead. “Blue.”

“Hm.”

“Sit on my face.”

You startle at the request, breath seizing in your lungs. Holy fuck—

He plants a kiss onto your hairline, as his finger targets your clit. He rubs tight, targeted circles around the bundle of nerves, reveling in the way your thighs shake for him. You nod before your voice catches up with you—that and the realization he can’t see you nod.

“Y-yeah, ok,” you stutter, anticipation and unrefined desire lacerating through your cunt. Batboy slides down the mattress and helps you paw your way through the dark until his mouth is situated right under your cunt.

You twitch as his hands find your thighs, hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. “Grab the headboard,” he instructs. Your fingers reach out and slide over the top of the smooth wood, gripping it tightly in anticipation.

“Little crybaby—so good for me,” he praises, and fuck you want to take him again right here and now. You whine as his breath fans hot on your core, just hovering. Waiting for who knows what. You release a shuddering breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“God, Batty, please…” You beg, your voice breathy and soft like golden-spun honey. “Please,” you hear yourself gasp again, shifting in his grasp and unraveling into a debase state of lust.

“Patience,” he replies evenly, moving one hand from your hip to the apex of your legs. His muscular arm curls around your calf, his hand steady, thumb and forefinger gently parting delicate, slick folds. With that, you are utterly exposed to him as he slips the hood back from the sensitive pactch of nerves at the top of your slit. Your pussy clenches involuntarily and harshly, making everything from your toes to your hips tense. Bats hums in delight.

“You’re dripping,” his rasp is dark, wrecked. “Do you want my mouth?”

“Yes,” you cry, dropping one hand to twist into his hair. Tears prick at your eyes—you can’t handle anymore teasing. “S’all yours—please. I need you.”

Not keen on keeping you waiting for too long, Bats surges forward to suck the swollen folds of your pussy into his heated mouth. He rolls your sensitive, fevered flesh between his blunt teeth, then flicks his tongue wetly against your entrance—you can hear it too.

The lapping sound of his tongue devouring your wetness and his spend hungrily is vulgar. Your hoarse cry for him and your tight grip on his hair is all the encouragement Bats needs to offer more of himself for your pleasure. He slides the flat of his tongue up to circle your clit until the air is robbed from your lungs. You think you might quit breathing for eternity. It’s certainly a possibility—

Then, all too soon, his mouth disappears. No. “Breathe. You’re working yourself up.”

No shit, you want to bite back. Your fingers tug on his hair—he grunts as his thumb and forefinger squeeze the plump lips of your pussy closed and rub gently up and down. “I’ll cry,” you halfheartedly threaten. “I’ll…I’ll cry if you don’t—”

“Then cry,” he challenges, opening you back up and thumbing your clit. Your thighs shake as your teeth tear into your bottom lip.

You open you mouth to snip back, but just as you do , Bats opens you up again. He takes a long lick up the length of your slit and then another. Swirling his tongue deeper, his mouth slides over your pussy in a soft, velveteen kiss that makes your entire body shake. You can feel just how wet he’s making you, and you know he could spend a whole night with his face buried between your thighs if he could. You’d certainly let him if he asked.

“You taste perfect,” Vengeance growls into you, licking a long line up the seam of you. You whimper pathetically—a feeble sound you’d almost be embarrassed of if you were actually cognizant.

“Oh, shit!” You cry out, chest heaving and knuckles white against the headboard that you grip onto like it’s your only tether to the world. “Fuck, you’re—fuck, you feel good,”

Bats spreads his saliva over your sopping pussy with two fingers and then lets his his jaw go lax—devouring you like a starved man—lathing every inch of your pussy with his tongue. His hands holding your thighs apart are the only things keeping you upright, and through the haze of lust you feel the centre of your weight pressing down directly onto his face. Concern breaks through the fog of your mind. Fuck—you’re gonna break his nose. You try to lift your hips up slightly, but as you do so, Bats simply growls and immediately tugs your hips right back to where they were.

His nose bumps against your clit, your wetness smeared over his cheeks and down his chin as he pushed the very tip of his tongue into your entrance—just enough to stretch your sensitive entrance—swollen and aching as Batty coaxes every single one of your nerves to burst into flames. He refuses to pull back, not until your hips buck involuntarily against his face, wantonly fucking his tongue as the hot muscle of his tongue curls deliriously inside of you.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you—one more pass of his tongue and you’re done for. You cry out, a choked, breathy yelp of his name boarders a sob. Bats retracts from your cunt with an erotic wet sound, and closes his lips around your aching clit. He hums from deep in his chest, sending blistering hot vibrations zipping through your core—it’s too much. Hissing, your back arches into a sharp bend, as your hand shoots to his hair, clawing at the strands in attempt to steer his relentless mouth away. The nerves he’s toying with are too raw—and overload of pleasure. Soon, the burning ache of your orgasm dissolves, melting into a plateau of the lingering grazes of Bats’ lips that just barely against you.

Your shaking hand untangles from his hair. You tongue rolls over your bottom lip. “Shit—why are you so good at that?”

With some ability to move restored to your limbs, you shift back and manage to slide off his body and slump by his side. Bats is quick to turn and wrap you into his arms, but instead of tucking your head under his chin, he shuffles down the bed and nestles his head onto your chest. “I like you, dummy.”

You smile and find his cheek. You tilt his head up, craving his mouth and the sweetness of his tongue. You giggle as pushes himself up slightly to reach for your lips. You feel his smile against you as you kiss him—albeit a little sloppy, but neither of you care.

Bats breaks away and hugs you closer, ear pressed against your sternum. Your hands fall to his head like second nature, toying with the short strands of his hair and stroking your fingers down the slopes of his face. You skim your other hand down his muscled back, lightly dragging your nails down his back. Scars litter his skin here, a map of past battles and old griefs that make your chest sting. You know he’ll sneer at the idea, but you still look upon him with wonder and pity. Maybe, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you know that the future is not very pretty for his kind. But then again—he probably thinks the same of you. Always running into burning houses and wondering why you get signed each time.

A fate of permanent loneliness for the both of you.

You twitch as his his large palm cups your breast. “What are you thinking about, Blue?”

“Wondering how to ask you to spend the night,” you say, fingers memorizing the jagged bump of a scar in the middle of his back. Shrapnel, most likely. Left unstitched too—you frown.

He shift his weight and rubs his cheek against your chest. You feel him swallow, and force out his words as if they were sharpened glass. “I can’t.”

“How about until I fall asleep?” You propose, not keen on letting go just yet. But then again, each time you’re with him, it becomes harder and harder to leave. “Don’t make me beg.”

He sighs deeply. “Alright.”

A smile splits across your face, joy filling up your ribcage and bubbling up through the cracks. You squeeze him tight as he grapples with the top sheet and flings it over your exposed bodies. You promise yourself to say awake, at least for a couple more hours, but you’re weak against his warmth and the weight of him. Each time you brush the fuzzy line of sleep, you jerk awake and fight the temptation. Bats catches onto your ploy.

He gently rolls your body onto your side and slots himself to your back, trapping your arms abasing your chest as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your neck and interlaces his fingers with yours. “Go to sleep, Blue.”

And you fall into it—like a daydream, or a fever. The hours become rainfall, dreamy minutes and pools of starlight gathering between your heart and lungs. Somewhere between these moments, outside of your unconsciousness, the bed dips and the air turns cold. The soft comforter lifts and is placed over your body and before you stir, your worries are silenced with a fragile kiss to your temple.

When you awake, you are alone. Watery-grey sunlight sieves through the moth-eaten curtains. All you have to remember Vengeance by is the black paint that dots your sheets and fingertips like smeared ash—like you’ve invited a shadow into your bed instead of a man.

You rub the sleep from your eyes and reach for you phone laying atop the nightstand. A voicemail notification from the Wayne tower takes up your lockscreen. Fingers still clumsy with sleep, you press the phone to your ear, expecting the easy voice of Alfred updating you on Bruce’s whereabouts. Instead, Bruce’s embittered voice crackles through the receiver. It’s nothing memorable, just a quick apology about the funeral and an ask to call him back.

The thorn-laced fear unravels from your heart—you’re glad he’s ok. Yet, in the same span of second, you’re pissed. Yes, people mistake your forgiving nature for naivety, you just never thought that Bruce would be one those people. His odd disappearance and Alfred’s cover up—he’s hiding something. You’re not one who dips their toes into paranoia, but fuck—what else are you supposed to feel when your friend goes missing after a domestic terrorism attack?

You sigh.

You hope Bruce isn’t involved with anything that makes him a target.

Or better yet, involved with the case.

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #battinson x reader #robpatbat #batman 2022 x reader #batman 2022

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tendouluvr · 4 years ago

Text

aizawa calling you clingy - gn reader

- [attempt at] angst to fluff

- warnings: being called clingy, aizawa gets annoyed with reader and berates them, one use of the word ‘shit’

- wc: 1.9k

a/n: this wasnt......as sad as i wanted... i cant tell if im just not so good at writing angst or immune to it T_T

once again, not edited!

#! aizawa!!!! eee

#! hes a levelheaded man so arguments are rare

#! u both trust one another so theres no reason to have doubts in ur relationship

#! being his s/o, he tells u things thats not so easy to tell others over time, and you’re patient enough to let him take however much time he needs to let u in

#! however, years of keeping to himself most of the time doesnt just disappear even if you’re his s/o

#! so aizawa does have this tendency to close off and distance himself from u bc of his stress and insecurities

walking through the spacious halls of ua, you were headed towards your lovely boyfriend. aizawas been pretty busy lately with teaching his class, making sure no one is being left behind progress wise, doing his job as a pro-hero, and then spending his free time training with shinsou.

you knew showing up at school unexpectedly was something aizawa found irky, that’s why you made sure to tell him the night before that you would be coming during lunch time to bring him some yummy homemade food.

humming softly to yourself, you finally reached the door opening to class 1-A and walked in. the classroom was empty, but there at the front was no one other than mr. aizawa shouta. you quickly greeted him with a smile and he turned to look at you.

“what are you doing here?” he slowly asked with a look of confusion.

“i brought you some food! did you eat yet? i hope not, i made-,” you quickly stopped talking once you noticed the look he was giving you.

“why are you here? i already told you, you shouldnt be showing up without letting me know first. our relationship is quiet, if the students see they’ll get noisy and ask questions, i’ll get bombarded by my colleagues, and it’ll put you in danger if words get out. did anyone see you coming here? can you listen to me for once instead of continuing to always be near me? you’re so damn clingy and need to start thinking about the consequences your action will bring. i already ate, just go home before anything happens.”

your jaw dropped a little after hearing what he just said to you. did he not remember what you told him last night?

worst of all, you couldnt believe he just called you clingy. you just wanted to do something nice for him by making his favorite food hoping that it’ll relieve some of the stress thats been building up, but he just thought of you as clingy.

fine, if clingy is what you are then you’ll stop bothering him. you quickly whispered an apology, not sure if he could hear or not, and began making your way back home as fast as possible. the food you made for him was still tightly grasped in your hand.

due to the new dormitories, aizawa stays at ua majority of the time. he comes home to your shared apartment whenever he can to spend time with you. unfortunately, those time aren’t usually much because as soon as he’s free, he’s quick to do something else.

once you’ve made it home, you packed the food away and put it in the fridge. you felt your phone buzzing repeatedly, already guessing who it could possibly be, you took it out to see it was your boyfriend.

shou <3: im sorry

shou <3: honey, im so sorry. pls text me back when u can

shou <3: i know what i said hurted u, but i promise u i dont mean it. pls just call me or text me so we can talk about this

shou <3: i have to go back now. but i love u. so much.

staring at your screen, you contemplated texting him back.

letting out a sigh, you decided not to.

putting your phone to the side, you walked to the bedroom and changed out of your clothes into the comfy pjs you were wearing right before you left.

seeing that there was nothing for you to do other than wallow in your insecurities and let out a few tears, you got into bed and made yourself comfortable for an afternoon nap.

aizawa on the other hand was at school and distracted. his own words kept replaying over and over in his head and all he wants to do is smack himself a few times (after comforting u ofc).

his students could tell he was in a badder mood than usual so they collectively agreed to not worsen it (one particular student does not care. can u guess?). aizawa just wanted the day to pass so he can apologize to you directly and make it up with some cuddling.

despite being distracted with planning his apology and thinking about you, he was still teaching as he should and constantly telling his students to be quiet because he’s intimidating like that.

a few hours passed, the students are back in their dorms and some of the teachers are still in school finishing up some work. the hallways were empty and silent, and the weather outside was nice and calm - not too sunny with just the right amount of wind.

however, if you were to peek your head inside of class 1-A at the moment, the environment is an exact 180. aizawa is quickly trying to grade the remaining stack of papers he has on his desk so he can leave as soon as he can. there’s papers everywhere, he’s not so sure where the answer key went off to but to hell with the answer key. he just needs to go home.

his hair is messily tied up and his lips have probably been gnawed off by now. as soon as school ended, he got out his phone to see if you replied and sadly you didn’t. he doesn’t blame you though, considering all of the shit he said to you earlier.

finally writing down the fat score in red pen onto the final paper, he gathers everything and put to the side of his desk and packed up his stuff. his stuff being his yellow sleeping bag and that’s it.

he went to his room first to clean himself up a bit, and then grabbed a taxi to go to your shared apartment. arriving at the front door, he takes out his copy of the key and entered.

first thing he noticed while entering and taking off his shoes was that the apartment was dark and quiet. he made his way to the kitchen first and turned on its lights to check the fridge. in the fridge laid the food you made for him earlier today. he took it out to start heating it up in the microwave then he walks away from the food and to your bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he poked his head in to see you laying on your side with your back facing the door. he assumed you were asleep and gently closed the door to not wake you up. he made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

you, feeling the bed dip, slowly opened your eyes to be greeted with the sight of your boyfriend gingerly brushing his fingertips across your cheekbones. he notices that you’re awake and looks up to meet your eyes.

making eye contact with him, you quietly grunted and brought the blanket up to cover your face while turning your entire body to the other side to ignore him. aizawa sighed and brought his hand down to rest on your waist as he begins talking.

“yn... i know you’re.. mad at me for the things i said to you earlier, but i’m truly sorry. i know saying i didn’t mean it isn’t good enough for you to forgive me, but i want you to know i’m really really sorry. i’ve been so busy for the past few days, my head is all over the place, seeing you at school just got me overthinking and worried that i ended up saying things about you that’s not true at all. i love you so much, hun. you’re the best thing to happen to me. you don’t have to forgive me now, i understand if you want some space.”

it was silent for some time after he finished his apology. the echoing silence was slowly making aizawa worried that you’ll leave him, but he won’t tell you that. thinking that you wanted space, he lifted his shaky hand off of your waist and moved to get off of the bed when you suddenly grabbed onto his hand to keep him there.

“i...i told you the day before that i was going to be visiting you during lunch time. did you not remember? or even hear me tell you?”

aizawa situated himself back down onto the bed before replying. “if i’m being honest, i don’t really remember much of that day at all. my brain was occupied with work and rest, so i was practically drained by the end of the night. i’m sorry i took it out on you, it’s my fault for overworking when i know you’ve been trying to help.”

letting out a soft sigh, you turned your body back towards him. still holding onto his hand, you carefully slotted your fingers in between his and pulled him down to lay with you. he immediately found comfort in this and placed his head into your neck. you could feel his facial hair against your skin making you let out a quiet giggle.

“i love you. i know you have a habit to overwork since that’s all you did before we dated, but please shou, take care of yourself. im not talking physically, cuz you’re already so damn fine, but mentally. i hate seeing you bury yourself in work and training that it even makes me tired just watching you.”

he grumbled something against your neck - his usual reaction to you complimenting him - and held onto you tighter while putting light kisses on your collarbone.

“i know. i will. please bear with me, i know i’m a pain but i’ll always try to be my best for you. i’m never letting you go, love you too much for that.”

“hmm? who said i’m going? you’re stuck with me forever just so you know,” you laughed and patted his head before rising from the bed.

“i heard you heating up the food earlier. get up and come eat,” you tugged aizawa to get him off the bed.

he grumbled once again because he was being forced to leave the warm comfort of your shared bed, but followed you out anyway holding onto your hand.

“wait. you heard me entering? so you were pretending to sleep when i got here?! not funny, babe. not funny. -also don’t take sleep for granted. i did and look where that got me. stop laughing!”

bonus:

it was the next day and aizawa just finished passing out the grades he rushed grading yesterday. even though it was rushed, he was confident that there wasn’t any mistakes-

“aizawa sensei, you marked this question wrong when it’s right. this one too. and this other one on the last page. are you trying to fail me?!” denki dramatically wailed as he showed aizawa his papers.

guess he did make mistakes after all.

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yourmidnightlover · 4 years ago

Text

never stop loving me

Summary - Spencer lashes out at y/n after being upset for a while, only to be far too harsh and push her away.

TW: mean spencer, swearing, bomb, injured reader, kissing

WC - 5,647

masterlist

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spencer had been acting weird lately.

and it wasn't his normal, quirky, adorable weird self. it was quiet. too quiet. he didn't ramble like he usually did when you brought anything up.

he was distant. he didn't sit beside you on the plane ride home, or hold your hand as you drove the both of you to your shared apartment.

you didn't want to push him to say anything he didn't want to, but you were getting worried. you rarely had to corner him into talking, but there was the occasional time where you knew he wouldn't get through whatever it was eating himself up until he spoke up and voiced the words in his mind.

so when you both entered the apartment, you hung your coat up on the hook and placed your bag beside the couch as you plopped down.

"spencer?" you asked quietly as he hung his coat up. he turned to face you as you began to pat the seat beside you, wanting him to sit down. he complied with a huff as you took note that he sat at nearly the other end of the couch.

"what?" he asked without looking at you, you could sense the attitude in his voice.

"i'm worried about you," you whispered. "can you open up? what's bothering you right now?" you moved closer to him and placed a hand on his lower thigh comfortingly.

"you're worried about me?" he spat out, looking at you incredulously. "i'm sure that's true," he scoffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he flicked your hand off his leg.

"spencer why would yo-" you started as you scooted closer to him on the couch.

"why would i what? why would i not believe you when you ask me that? you're a smart girl, y/n. figure it out," he nearly yelled at you as he began to get up from the couch. you grabbed his hand with both of yours, not wanting him to leave you like that.

"please, spence. i just need to kno-"

"you should be able to figure it out yourself!" he shouted. "and stop touching me! oh my god all you ever do is touch me! did you ever think that maybe something's wrong with you if you have to always be touching someone? god! just don't ever touch me! you're so annoying! what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i-i'm sorry. i didn't think it wa-" you started apologizing.

"exactly! you didn't think! you never think about anyone but yourself! you never stopped to think about how fucking uncomfortable you touching me is! i hate being near you. i can't do it," he started shaking his head as he ran his hands over his face.

"wh-what?" you asked as the teas you didn't know were gathering in your eyes began spilling down your cheeks.

"you heard me," he said as he started to turn around. "i'm just gonna sleep alone tonight," he started walking towards your bedroom.

"i'll sleep on the couch," you spoke up before he made it to the room, he stopped in his tracks. "your back's been hurting lately, and you're too tall to fit on the couch comfortably. i'll sleep on the couch," you whispered, partially afraid that he wouldn't be able to hear you, wiping at the tears.

"whatever," he said as he finished his journey into the bedroom, not bothering to look at you.

you wanted to wait until he was asleep to get any blankets or anything, so the only things going through your mind were his words to you.

what the hell is wrong with you?

i hate being near you...

just don't ever touch me!

you weren't sure what was bothering him this much, but if you knew anything about spencer it was that that man could hold a grudge.

when emily had 'come back from the dead' it was like it was a different kind of person. it wasn't the spencer you fell in love with and you knew it, but that doesn't excuse his words.

so, you did what anyone in your position would do. you gave him space. you dialed the number of a trusted friend and colleague, praying she would pick up.

"hello?" the groggy voice rang out from the phone speaker.

"hi," you meekly replied. "sorry, i know it's pretty late. i umm," you sniffled, "i just didn't know who else to call."

"what happened, y/n? are you hurt? is everything okay?" she asked worried.

"yea, yea. everything's okay," you sighed. "i think spencer might just need some space is all."

"ummm, okay. is there anything i can do?"

"actually, yea? i hate to ask you this or put you in a weird position, but i was wondering if i could stay with you for a while?" you rambled out.

"of course you can. do you even have to ask?" she replied quietly.

"oh my gosh, you're a lifesaver. i-it might not be for long, i'm not really sure," you began. "it might be until spencer is ready, o-or maybe until i umm," you sniffled again, "until i find my own place?"

"that's okay, honey. i promise," she answered sweetly.

"thank you so much. i owe you, em," you sighed as you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"don't even worry about it, y/n. i'm glad you came to me. are you coming here tonight?"

"if you don't mind... i'm not sure if spencer would want to see me when he umm, when he wakes up," you nodded even though she couldn't see you.

"okay. i'll be waiting."

"alright. i'll probably leave in like half an hour. bye."

"bye," she replied before you hung up.

you snuck into your bedroom, and noticed how spencer was sleeping peacefully.

you had began as friends at the bureau. you didn't even think of him in a romantic way until he admitted his feelings after one drunk night out with the team. it was sweet, a bit sloppy, but sweet.

he kept rambling about how beautiful you were, and how good you smelt when you would lay your head on his shoulder to fall asleep or when you were cuddled up on your couch watching movies. he told you about how you made him feel like less of a weirdo when he would ramble about things he knew, just wanting to be liked by others.

he mentioned how he loved that he could come to you for anything at any time. he also told you about how he appreciated that when you met him, you didn't try to shake his hand. you knew how uncomfortable he was with touching a stranger and allowed him to make the first move. you let him be the one to cross the bridge that was physical touch because you were just that caring for others, and that's truly what he loved about you from the beginning.

then he said that he would never tell you how much he liked you because he never wanted those things to stop.

by that time, you had already driven him back to his place, and helped him into bed. he begged you to stay, so you obliged kindly and opted to take the couch. he told you to stay in the bed with him. he was the one to pull you closer onto his chest. he was the one to stroke you hair as you fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

he didn't even remember that night. he woke up with you in his arms, content with the warmth you provided him. he loved the way you instinctively curled into his chest even more.

you never brought it up.

then you realized that you felt the same for him on one of the later cases. you wanted to hold him while he cried, and rejoice with him when he had his wins. you wanted to hear his stupid rants about something as miniscule as sprinkles on a birthday cake. you wanted that closeness he graced you with. you just wanted him.

and now, as you picked a few more pieces of clothes to pack, you heard rustling coming from the sheets. you turned to see spencer now sitting up in bed, looking at you.

"...hi," you whispered with tight lips.

"what're you doing?" he asked. you couldn't tell what he was thinking since it was still dark.

"i'm umm, i was gonna stay with emily for a while," you said as you wiped the tears from your cheeks for the thousandth time. "i um, didn't think you'd want me to be here when you woke up," you nodded as you folded the clothes in your hands. "i was going to leave in about 20 minutes, so i'll be out soon," you felt your lip quivering.

you didn't want to cry in front of him. maybe it was that you wanted to have a sense of dignity, but if it came down to it you would bet that you just didn't want him to feel bad. even after he basically said he hated you.

because that's who you were.

you were a touchy person. that's how you show love to others. that's how others know you care for them.

but now he said he hated that about you.

he hated the way you would gently graze his hand with yours when you could tell he was upset. he hated the way you ran your hand through his hair when he was stressed. he hated the way you placed your hand on his shoulders when he was sad or frustrated.

he hated you.

and he just looked at you standing there. he didn't say anything. he looked at you as tears welled in your eyes from his words.

the words that felt like a burning blade being dragged along your spine. the words that felt like bile rising from your stomach.

"i'll just go now," you said as you ran out of the room and into the living room, not noticing the way that spencer followed you.

"hey," spencer spoke up as you piled the clothes into your go bag that was still beside the couch.

"yea?" you sniffled, not bothering to look at him while pulling on the sweater that was keeping you warm.

when you finally turned to see him he was looking at you with a blank expression. he was looking at the sweater you were wearing. you looked down at it, not remembering it was one of his he had let you worn during the case in north dakota. it was the one you wore when you realized your feelings for him, almost a month after he admitted them for you.

the one you wore when you shared your first kiss in the snow.

"oh," you said as you felt the tears build up again. "you... want it back?" you asked as the tear fell down your face, leaving a burning sensation that felt far better than what you felt inside.

he didn't say anything. you couldn't even see him since the tears were blinding you. so, you slowly unbuttoned the sweater and folded it nicely as you handed it to him.

"i-i'm sorry," you sniffled. "i didn't um - i didn't want to make you un-uncomfortable," you said as you zipped the bag up and grabbed your keys, heading to the door. "just know that i um, i love you."

and you were gone. you rushed out of the door. you didn't want to wait to see if he would tell you he loved you back, scared that you'd be waiting for a lifetime. so you ran to your car and drove off to emily's place, leaving spencer standing in the living room, frozen from what just happened.

but you couldn't see his heart breaking in return. he pulled his sweater up to his face and recognized the sweet scent of you on it that made him break down.

when he noticed how cold you were from the snow from forgetting your jacket at the hotel, he automatically gave you his. he didn't even care how cold he would get - just that you'd be a bit more comfortable.

he draped the sweater over your shoulders to help you put it on, and rubbed your arms for more friction to get you more warm. then, when you turned to look him in the face, you leaned in slowly and grabbed his face.

"can-is this okay?" you asked kindly.

he didn't even respond. he just connected his lips with yours after giving you the brightest smile. he relished in the moment of feeling content, whole, peace. you.

and now you gave him back that very sweater.

in reality, he was looking at the sweater you were wearing as a sign of hope. he thought that maybe since you were still wearing it, he hadn't completely squandered his chance of forgiveness with you.

but you gave him his sweater back with tears in your eyes.

he made you cry.

he drove you away.

when emily answered the door, you broke down in her arms, which was quite the role-reversal.

you were always the one to comfort the other team members. you never really went to anyone for help, you never wanted to burden them with your problems when they all had lives. you just wanted to help them. that's just how selfless you were.

"i'm here, y/n," emily consoled you. "let it out, sweetie. that's it," she stroked you hair as she led the two of you to the couch so you could cry in her arms.

when you finally calmed down a little bit, you started apologizing.

"i'm so sorry. i know it's really late, i just didn't know who else to go to and i'm just so..." you sniffled.

"don't worry about it. i'm glad you came to me. now, care to tell me what happened?"

so you told her. everything.

okay, so you made him seem like less of a douche bag, but you told her. you just tried to explain to her his side of the story, trying to be more understanding.

"and you feel bad? you aren't mad at him?" she questioned in disbelief.

"yea, of course i feel bad. being myself has made him uncomfortable, em. how could i be mad at him when i'm so hopelessly in love with him?" you asked in question.

"oh, sweetheart," she said as she pulled you back into a hug.

she had a plan.

okay, it wasn't much of a plan.

it was more of just chewing him out.

but she knew that would work.

because she also knew how much he loved you. and she knew there had to be a reason he was treating you like that.

the next day you had gotten called in at 4 a. m. with a new case. you drove to the office with emily and walked in behind her. once you saw spencer sitting at the round table in his normal seat beside yours, you felt a kind of rage boil inside of you.

he was just sitting there with a gloom look on his face, not trying to apologize for what he had said to you or anything. you'd thought that maybe he'd even look at you by now but he hasn't even noticed your presence. nothing.

you huffed, walking over to sit in a chair you normally wouldn't be in. spencer finally turned to see it was you who sat down, so you looked him up and down before turning your eyes towards hotch who was giving you all the briefing.

there was a bomber in charleston, california. he would send bomb to local corporations that had a history of animal testing. He was essentially trying to rid the world of those who harm animals, which is quite ironic since that involved killing humans.

each of the buildings were two stories, yet the bomb didn't level it. that's how you knew the bomb was meant to send a message rather than kill more people.

so until his message was spread and out in the open for all people, he'd continue to kill people without hesitation. human life wasn't valuable to him, so it was your job to stop him.

once you had gotten to california, you had all been divided into teams. you went with morgan and spencer to the most recent bomb site to analyze anything they might've missed.

the entire scene smelled like burnt papers, no surprise there. aside from the fact that people had previously died where you were standing, the tension in the air was so thick it felt as though the smoke had remained from the explosion.

you had avoided spencer, tried to talk to him as little as possible when you had to. unless it was for the case, you didn't speak. until hotch decided to room the two of you together.

you had asked the girls if you could room with them, only for them to refuse and make you 'work things out with your beau.' so essentially, you were screwed.

you trudged into the room before spencer had made it, being sure to lock the door behind you just to annoy spencer. was it petty? sure. did he deserve it? yes. would you apologize? absolutely not.

once you turned around, you realized there was only one bed. of course hotch would do that. what a dick. you sighed before placing your things on the couch, deciding that spencer's back pain is completely different than being temporarily locked out of your room. you were truly doing it for yourself so you wouldn't have to hear him complain the next day about his back hurting.

after you had gotten out of the shower, your body in only a small towel, you heard the door knock. you knew it was spencer, his signature knock giving it away, and decided you could open it for him. when he realized you were practically naked and everyone had a view of you from the hallway, he quickly pushed you further inside along with himself and slammed the door shut.

"what the hell, y/n?" he whisper-yelled at you, gesturing to what you were wearing. "anybody could've seen you and you're practically naked!"

"and?" you crossed your arms over your chest. "i don't see why you should have any say so in what i'm wearing."

"you're wearing a towel," he stated as if you hadn't already known.

"and?" you shrugged. "is my body making you uncomfortable? is that why you don't want to touch me, spencer?" you rolled your eyes before turning to get your clothes from your suitcase.

you decided to just strip right in front of him, just to tease him a bit more. you slowly slid the towel down your body, your back still towards spencer as you shimmied into your shorts that barely covered anything. you turned around to get your shirt, revealing your bare chest to spencer who stood in awe of what was happening in front of him. you put your thin shirt on tantalizingly slow, aware that he could probably see your nipples through the fabric, but that was the entire point.

spencer walked over to you slowly, you smiled at him happily as he approached you. when he brought his hands up to cup your face gently, you swatted his hands away from you.

"ah-ahh," you shook your head no. "there's no touching allowed," you rolled your eyes one last time before getting comfortable on the couch, pulling the one extra blanket in the room over your body in an attempt to keep warm.

as the minutes turned into an hour, you felt yourself becoming more upset. his words, even if he didn't mean them, had an impact on you. he couldn't just unsay the words or take them back, that's not how it works. instead, he made you live with the thought and constant worry that you made him uncomfortable by touching him.

and that pained you. that pain turned into tears, which ensued sniffling because of your runny nose. and your tears and sniffles pained spencer even more. he listened in wait as you cried yourself to sleep once more, the sniffled slowing down which told him of your slumber.

when you woke up, you had realized you were awake before spencer. you quickly got ready and made your way downstairs to retrieve some mediocre coffee. deciding to not be a complete asshole, you got spencer his own cup as well just how he liked it and placed it on the bedside table for when he would wake up.

when he did wake up, it was to the smell of coffee beside him. he had obviously realized you had gotten it for him, he wasn't a complete idiot other than the fact that he had hurt you in the first place. when he took a sip of it, it was just as he liked it.

of course it was, he thought, it's you.

since there were so many animal activists that were recorded online, you couldn't really narrow down the suspect range. once you had all made it back to the precinct that morning, they had widdled down all the companies that have ever used testing on animals. there were four companies in total, so you would all split up and investigate each one.

you, of course, had been paired with spencer once again. it was obviously the rest of the team conspiring to get you two to make up, but he hadn't even apologized. and you refused to make the first move.

so as you drove to the company you had been assigned, there was yet again that irritable tension in the air that made it seem like someone could choke on it. you pulled into the parking lot and got out as quickly as you could.

making your way inside, you asked where the owner of the company was while flashing your badge, spencer making his way inside just in time to catch where you were going and follow.

"hi, ma'am," you introduced yourself, extending your hand for her to shake. "i'm here in regards for the-"

"recent bombings? yes, i figured you would be," barbara cooke sighed as she released your hand.

"yes, i'm agent y/n yl/n/ and this is dr. spencer reid," you motioned to him as he gave her an awkward wave. "we were wondering if you've received any recent threats concerning your history in-"

"animal testing? we get those all the time, agent... what was it again?" she asked disrespectfully.

"y/l/n," you informed her once again.

"right, well we get those too often for it to be significant. in fact, we get those almost weekly," she rolled her eyes before turning back to the computer on her desk.

"ma'am, if you wouldn't mind just trying to think of a threat that stuck out to you. one in particular that made it seem as though they might follow through?" spencer asked kindly.

"i actually do mind. i have a company to run and don't need to waste my time on something that won't ever affect me. so please, see yourselves out," she motioned to the door with a sigh.

you and spencer looked at each other before turning around and leaving her office. instead, you decided to ask the employees if they saw anyone that seemed as though they were landscaping the office.

"no, not really. i'm too busy trying to finish the work cooke gives me."

"i'm sorry, no. i try to just ind my own business around here."

"i'm sorry, there have been bombings?"

there wasn't much luck.

you were making your rounds right back to the front of the office, asking nearly everyone that you passed if they noticed anyone suspicious until you noticed a mailman near the front of the room.

he was dressed in an all-brown outfit, but with no logo of what company he worked for. not even a hat to display the name. all the companies that delivered had company logos displayed on the outfits, just to display for publicity.

when you looked around at who was near you, your eyes locked on spencer who was walking towards you, his head down. once you saw the mailman walk out of the office and saw the lady at the front desk begin to open the tape, you grabbed spencer by the arm.

it all happened so quickly.

you pushed spencer out of the door and locked it, blocking him from the blast that would surely ensue, and ran as quick as you could to drag the woman away from the box. you shielded her with your body, turning your back to where the bomb would go off to lessen the impact on her body. before you could even register what happened, you were pushed into the wall cati-corner the desk, knocking you unconscious.

spencer didn't know what was happening until he heard the bomb.

he assumed the blast wasn't as intense as it was previously by the fact that the second story was still standing. the blast from the other bombs at least made a bit of a dent in the second story.

in an instant, he realized that he might've lost you forever. the love of his life. gone.

and you were still mad at him. you hated him. you thought he hated you.

once he was able to form a coherent thought, he pulled his phone out and called 911, being sure to tell them there was a possible agent down in an explosion. once he hung up, he mustered up his inner derek morgan and kicked the doors in, it helped that they were already frail due to the explosion.

with the doors now open, smoke flowed out of the now open space, looking for an escape as spencer was looking for his love. all he could hear were coughs and whines of the employees around him. then he felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked to see the face of the lady from the front desk.

"she-she saved me," the woman told spencer in reference to you. "she's over here," spencer helped her navigate himself to where your body lay limp on the ground, drywall covering your face and body.

"oh my god, y/n," he called as he moved the rubbish from your body before looking for a pulse.

he found himself whispering a series of pleas that you were okay, that he would find the pulse in your neck or wrist. that he would feel the warmth off your body against his, be able to touch your skin and have you grab his hand when you were nervous. he wanted you to never stop touching him.

because ever since you had joined the bureau, you had been a touchy person. you were the person people went to when they needed comfort because they wanted a hug. you were the person the team counted on when comforting the mothers or children because you had a comforting touch.

and he wanted that comfort. he needed that comfort right then. but the one person he needed the comfort from didn't think he wanted it from them. you didn't think he wanted you anymore.

so you had to be okay. because he couldn't imagine a world where you weren't his, which sounds so cliche but couldn't be any more true.

ever since you waltzed into his life, he could never remember what it was like without you. what it was like without your hand running through his soft hair. without your hand on his knee underneath the bau table during a meeting. without your face buried in his neck while you were cuddling at night. without your kiss...

without you.

he needed you.

and he found the small, faint, minuscule pulse that beat throughout your body. a gentle but safe way to know you were alive and still with him. maybe you'd still want to be with him.

when the ambulance arrived, he didn't hesitate to hop in the back of the van, opting to call the team to inform them of what happened.

they had put an oxygen mask on you to ensure your safety and had told him that you had a concussion from the blast. they would do further tests once they got to the hospital, which felt like it took forever, according to spencer.

once they had wheeled you away, spencer sat in wait once again. the team slowly trickled in, trying to comfort spencer but ultimately failing. when the doctor finally came in, spencer was the first to jump up and ask how you were.

"she'll make a full recovery, she's rather lucky," he nodded at spencer before checking his chart. "she has three bruised ribs and a minor concussion. she'll be able to fly in a couple of days, but will have to stay out of the field until her ribs are fully healed. she shouldn't be doing any strenuous activities until then as well," he informed the doctor. "other than that she's healthy as a horse."

"thank you. can i see her now?" spencer asked eagerly.

"yes, of course," he nodded before turning around. "right this way."

when spencer came into your room, your eyes were barely open. it looked like you were struggling to stay awake. your face and arms were littered with an occasional bruise, which he's sure were worse on your stomach and legs. your skin was a bit paler than usual, it didn't have that glow you normally had, that liveliness.

but you still looked like you. you still looked beautiful.

spencer took the seat beside your bed and moved it closer to you, taking your hand in his before you snatched it away, turning on your side to face the wall opposite of where spencer sat.

"y/n, please..." spencer pleaded, feeling his eyes well with tears. he thought you were just angry at him until he heard your soft sniffles. "darling, please look at me," he placed his hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you back to face him. you turned yourself back around to face him, eyes red and swollen as your lip was quivering.

"what?" you spat out, trying to maintain your own composure until you saw he was crying himself. you raised your brows in shock before asking him, "what's wrong?"

he laughed, "you're asking me what's wrong?" you nodded. "i'm just so, so sorry i'm sorry i said all those things about you. i'm sorry it took you almost dying for me to apologize. and i'm sorry for ever making you feel like i didn't love you, y/n. i love you so much. every part of you, your touch included. it's anything but annoying. it's comforting, and sweet, and calming, and does so much more to help me than it does hurt or annoy me," he took your hand in his once more, placing a kiss to your knuckles. "i love you so much and i'm so sorry."

"and i'm sorry i had to touch you to push you out of the way of an explosion," you rolled your eyes with a chuckle so he knew you were joking.

"thanks for that, by the way - saving me," he shrugged. "which brings me to my next point... do you know how reckless that was? how dangerous and stupid and how you could have died? because you could have died and if you died i don't know what i'd do with myself. especially knowing you were mad at me when you died," he held your hand to his chest so you could feel how his heart broke in those moments he didn't know if you were alive. the moments he thought he might've lost you forever.

"but i'm alive. i'm right here," you assured him, bringing his hand to your lips this time to press a kiss before holding the one with both of yours. "why'd you say those things anyway? why were you so upset?"

"well remember the officer that was on the case?" you nodded. "remember how he kept touching you?" you rolled your eyes with a nod.

"god, it was so annoying," you interjected.

"well it didn't seem like you thought it was annoying," he avoided eye contact with you, you pulled his arm to get his attention once again.

"are you saying you thought i wanted him to be so handsy?" you questioned, he nodded guiltily. "spencer, are you kidding?" you chuckled. "i had to do that because if he knew i hated him he wouldn't have been so cooperative. i promise, you are the only one for me. you're the only one i want to touch me like that. but that doesn't excuse you talking to me like that. you saying those things hurt me, a lot."

"i know, i know they did... and i plan on making it up to you. i will make it up to you, i swear," he nodded along eagerly.

"yea, you better dr. reid. i'm holding you to that," you huffed out a laugh, spencer following suit as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

then to your nose. then right and left cheeks. then your lips. it wasn't a kiss that demanded anything. it wasn't hostile or passionate. it was content. it was a way of showing you love and saying that your love was enough. that you were enough.

"i love you, spencer," you whispered as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"and i love you, y/n," he whispered back. "please never stop loving me the way you do."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff

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nordicpoppie · 3 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction their hybrid gets angry / pouty

Been busy the last few days but had this finished in my drive :)

If you have ideas or critisism for the reactions / scenarios feel free to let me know!

Y/F/P = Your Favourite Place

Y/F/S = Your Favorite Snack

Jin

Jin had just returned home from a long night out with some of his work colleagues. When he’d opened the door you’d been nowhere to find despite always being there to greet him. As he walked around the house he wondered why it was so quiet, even if you didn’t come to greet him he’d still expect you to be on the couch or the bedroom.

As he walked around the house he suddenly noticed the tip of a tail poking out from behind the couch. Walking around it he saw you with your back turned to him clutching something in your arms.

Jins heart immediately leapt to his throat, the worst thoughts entering his head, what if you were hurt or worse ill and he’d just spend the last 5 hours being out and having fun while you were at home in pain.

He quickly grabbed your shoulders and turned you around, only to find your face not full of tears as he expected but a small pout decorating it instead. In your arms you clutched a pillow, more specifically his pillow.

Jin looked at your face while you in turn avoided eye contact, “It’s late” you mumbled while your pout grew in size. Jins eyes went wide as he turned to stare at the clock, it was late, he hadn’t even realized how late it was. He knew you had a hard time sleeping by yourself, so he always let you sleep with him, but he hadn’t counted on you getting this pouty over him not being there.

Grabbing your hands he dragged you to your feet despite your protests and led you to the bedroom. Seating you on the bed he started putting on his nightclothes before yet again grabbing your hands, pushing you into bed so you could cuddle.

“Sorry, I didn't realize how late it had gotten.” Jin whispered into your hair while you were at the edge of falling asleep.

Namjoon

Hearing a giant bang followed by a whispered curse you jumped up from your seat on the couch. Namjoon and you had been watching a movie together before he told you he’d grab some cocoa and popcorn for the both of you. Hearing the bang your heart rate immediately spiked.

Rushing to the kitchen you stopped with a small gasp at the threshold, watching in horror as Namjoon tried to discreetly swipe the pieces of glass together. Being worried you stepped closer, about to stop his hands from moving, but then you caught sight of one piece of glass. It had the same motive as your favourite cup.

Another gasp left your mouth and Namjoon knew you’d get angry and sad. Turning to look at your face he saw the hurt and anger swirling in your eyes. Huffing you turned and walked out of the kitchen, seconds later he heard a door slam.

Namjoon knew you weren’t actually that angry, it was just a moment's spurt that made you act like a brat. Sweeping the last bits of glass up, he dumped them in the trash and went to the bedroom. He knocked the door before opening it slowly and peeking in.

You were lying on the bed with a small pout on your face, when Namjoon entered you turned to look at him. Immediately your expression changed to that of sadness, not knowing why Namjoon rushed to your side.

Grabbing onto him tightly you mumbled into his shoulder “I’m sorry for getting mad at you”. Namjoon sighed, he knew you felt guilty, even if you knew he didn’t take the small anger spurt seriously. “Don’t worry, i’ll buy you as many cups as you want, as long as you don’t get seriously angry the next time i accidentally break one” he said laughing together with you.

Yoongi

Taking his headphones off after several hours of working on mixing and editing music Yoongi sighed and stretched his back. He turned to look at the clock realizing how late it had gotten. He was sure he had forgotten something but he wasn’t yet sure what it was.

Getting up he walked to the kitchen to grab some food, on the way however he noticed the dining table had been decorated and plates and glasses were standing ready. Cursing out loud Yoongi turned around to look for you, hoping you’d still be awake with how late it had gotten.

He found you in the bedroom, talking with Jimin on the phone, tears in your eyes. When you noticed Yoongi had entered you quickly hung up and wiped any escapen tears, letting a big pout overtake your features. You turned from him, walked to your side of the bed and laid down with you back facing him.

Yoongi knew it was bad, he had promised to have dinner with you but had forgotten. Putting on his own nightclothes he hopped into bed with you, trying to grab you though you resisted before finally settling.

Yoongi grumbled in his head, how would he make it up to you, he couldn’t stand you being angry at him and especially not if it was combined with tears. Leaning over he asked you, “Are you free tomorrow?”, wondering what he wanted you simply shrugged.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow then, we’ll go out and get some nice dinner after going on a date, whichever place you pick”. Taking the bait you turned your face lit up “Even Y/F/P?” to which Yoongi nodded happily, he's succeeded in making up with you.

The day after you were all smiles and excited, no one would have thought you’d be capable of being angry, that was everyone but Yoongi.

Hoseok

It was a completely normal day, you were sitting watching tv with no special interest in whatever was being said. That was until they suddenly mentioned Hoseok and the other guys. Grabbing the remote you turned up the sound listening more intently now that it was about Hoseok.

Hoeseok left the room to go grab some sandwiches for the both of you, while you continued watching the tv. Much to Hoseok's surprise when he returned the couch was empty, though the news was still one.

As he turned to turn the tv off, he saw himself on the screen, talking with another hybrid. Something he knew set you off as hybrids of your species easily got affected by small changes.

Turning the tv off he went to find you, not surprised to find you sitting in his room with his pillow in your arms, nose buried in it. When he entered you fixated a small glare at him showing your clear distaste.

Hoseok went towards you, grabbed a blanket and threw it around you, he then took the pillow and threw it on the bed. You started to complain a bit as you were covered in the blanket and lost the pillow, however Hoseok shushed you as he pulled you into a hug.

Leaning against him while he hugged you tightly he whispered “you know i only did it for the views and because the company wants me to do it right?”. Nodding you tucked your head further into his shoulder.

A few minutes later Hoseok was lying on the bed with you tucked into his arms making sure your scent was all over him.

Jimin

Walking through the door with angry steps you slammed it after you, quickly throwing off your shoes. Jimin was in the living room watching the news when you came in and he was shocked at the way you entered the apartment.

Not knowing what had happened or why you were upset he went to follow you, but not before he saw the news switch to an article about him. Or rather an article about him and a co-star who had been out shopping together.

As Jimin stood watching the TV he knew that was probably the reason you'd gotten upset. You were already plenty insecure being a hybrid together with a human, but having that same human walking around with what you considered a more beautiful person didn't help.

When he went to the bedroom he couldn't hear anything from inside. Lightly pushing the door open he saw you laying face down on the bed, not moving when he entered the room fully.

He went over and sat beside you on the bed, quietly stroking your hair and back. You were angry and upset but you weren't going to avoid his skin ship, it always felt nice no matter what.

Suddenly you felt the bed sink more, as he leaned more weight on it. Moving to get up to see what he was doing you were surprised to see Jimin with a small package in his hands.

Noticing your state he handed it over to you, telling you it was a gift he purchased with the help of his co-star. Quickly grabbing it and opening it you saw your favourite accessory inside. Jumping up you quickly hugged him tightly.

Jimin knew you'd forgive him easily, you always did.

Taehyung

You and Taehyung had been out at his company to celebrate the 50th anniversary since its opening. It had been a nice pleasant evening, except for one event.

While you had gone to the bathroom to relieve yourself, a person from his workplace had taken their chance to get close to him. So when you returned you not only saw Taehyung with another person, it looked like they were flirting with him too.

Already getting upset both because of the flirting but also because of Taehyung's lack of movement to stop it. You walked over to prevent any more flirting from happening.

As you got closer you heard the person lowly insult you, claiming a hybrid should never be with a human. Immediately that lit a fuse within you, walking over you grabbed Taehyung's arm.

Snarling at the other person you proceeded to drag him out of the venue and towards the parking lot. Taehyung could not only hear but also see how angry and upset you were.

When you reached the car he stopped you and pulled you into a hug, nuzzling your hair. Mumbling a small sorry together with some praises he pulled back and helped you into the car.

As the venue got smaller in the rearview mirror you relaxed more and more.

Jungkook

Slamming the refrigerator shut you huffed quietly, quickly opening the cupboards and searching through them. Not finding what you were searching for, you opted to go ask Jungkook.

As you got closer to his room you heard him shouting along with Taehyung. Probably playing some games on their computers you thought as you pushed the door open.

At first the boys didn't realize you were standing there, until you cleared your throat. Taehyung acknowledged you with a small nod while Jungkook turned his head to look at you questioningly.

Just as you opened your mouth to ask if he knew where Y/F/S was, you noticed it sitting at the table between the boys. Jungkook noticed the way you stared at the snack and immediately realized what he'd done.

Quickly getting up he rushed after you as you angrily left the room, going to the entryway. Glancing through the window you noticed it was raining heavily, but you had really been craving the snack so you'd have to make due with some water.

Jungkook however thought the opposite, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back from tying your shoes. Just as you were about to tell him to let you go, he presented a brand new packet of Y/F/S.

Looking first at the snack then at him you reached out to grab it. "You didn't think I'd just eat your snack without getting you a new one right?" Jungkook asked you while you smiled guiltily, making Jungkook chuckle.

Later you joined the boys while they were gaming, happily eating the snack.

#bts reaction #BTS jimin #BTS jin #BTS jungkook #bts #bts yoongi #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts taehyung #kpop scenarios #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.

tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜

author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.

“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.

You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?

God, you’re an altruist.

“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)

“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”

“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,” you correct.

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.

“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.

“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.

“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”

“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”

He hangs up immediately.

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.

“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.

“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.

“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.

“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.

“Sure, we can talk talk.”

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”

“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”

He nods. You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”

“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.

“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.

“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.

“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”

You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.

You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.

“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.

“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.

Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.

“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.

“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.

You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook: Hey. from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun! to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.

“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer: you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.

“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”

“W-what?”

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.

“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.

He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”

“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean? Feel right?

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“You like her, right?”

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?

“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.��

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay. Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.

“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”

You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,” she tries again, concerned.

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.

This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.

“W-what?”

“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.

“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”

There’s something thick in your throat.

“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.

“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.

“I’m kidding.”

It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.

“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”

“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.

“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.

“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.

“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it. Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

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rexx-lapis · 4 years ago

Text

His favorite little farmer// Bull!hybrid Shigaraki x Reader

-> You work as a care keeper in a farm specializing in caws and bulls hybrids. You love all of them but you just can’t help but caring a little bit more for your little Tomura, who in your eyes look so helpless. What you don’t know is that you’re not the only one having not so professional thoughts. So what happened when your favorite hybrid tells you he wants a mate.

Tags: Lot of smut and it’s intense. Bull hybrid Shigaraki. Mention of mating, of knotting. Anal, milking, prostate stimulation, use of toys, sub Shigaraki. Lot of cum. Dacryphylia. Jealous reader and possessive Tomura. Lot of fluff, they just love each other very much. Reader is gender neutral.

I’ve red @hanji-is-life post on bull Bakugou and Deku and I just got a huge brain rot :((

Shigaraki could spend hours just looking at you. From his stable, he loved watching you work, you were so pretty. You were working so hard in the farm, always carrying something and taking good care of the cows. He loved you so much, and that meant a lot because you were the only farm keeper that he allowed to get close to him. None of the others could approach him without getting nasty bites and all. Every bull had their favorite keeper. Bakugou, Kirishima and even Midoriya had their favorite but in the end they all took turn to take care of the bulls. But not you. You were his one and only. No one was mad at him for that, not even you. They all understood. He wasn’t like the others, as he arrived in the farm in a pitiful shape. He was deadly skinny, hurt, and traumatized, unable to let a human near him. Mistreatments towards hybrid were current even more in farms. But farms like he was right now was the proof that it was possible to met good people. You had been the one to take care of him when he arrived, you fed him, washed him, made sure he wasn’t cold. You even slept in the stale next to him to make sure he was okay during the night. Slowly he had warm up to you, as he was becoming a bit more healthy every day. He was still not the biggest bull of the farm but he looked so much better. All because you took care of him. And you were so understanding, taking his defense and never pressuring him into having interaction with others. The only person he needed was you anyway.

“Hi Tomu, how are you today?

-I’m fine... And you?

-I am doing great! The weather is perfect today!”

He smiled slightly, so happy you were here with him.

“Do you want to go outside for a bit? I’ll clean your stable as you go outside.

-Can’t I just stay here with you?

-Tomu, you need to go outside a bit.”

But he really wanted to stay with you. He knew you needed space to work and that he’ll be able to see you soon but he couldn’t help it.

“If you’re nice after you’re time outside I’ll groom you!”

He finally nodded, excited to come back so you can take care of him. You lead him to the outside field, choosing one that was empty, knowing he preferred to be alone. You waved at him goodbye, your hand brushing his shoulder. His ears fluttered and he blushed slightly. He watched you go back inside, noticing how your hips sway from right to left. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your ass until you disappeared behind a wall.

“So you gonna do something about that little farmer or?”

He turned around seeing Bakugou, Midoriya, and Kirishima, in the field next to his. He looked at the wood barrier that separated them from him.

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

-Oh so she isn’t yours? You’re not interested?

-I didn’t say that”, he said firmly.

Of course you were his.

“Bakugou is right Shigaraki, look it worked out for us! I have no idea how, but somehow it worked out.

-It’s literally so easy for you, she is basically caring about you all the time.

Yeah! She is your personal keeper!”

He couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted you. So bad it sometimes kept him awake at night. Even more when he was seeing how the others all had their little mate for themselves. He was even more jealous when the rut season was coming in and that they all had their personal keeper to take care of it. That was maybe because they all were part of the breeder program. Maybe if he agreed to it, you would let him breed you. Just thinking about made him excited.

“You know how some of us had to battled to get them to let us claim them like that. Bakugou literally had to fight.

-Hey!

-It’s true, they had to put you in an isolated stable just because of it.

-He was in time out. Just like a little kid.

Do you want to die?”

Shigaraki stopped listening. But they were right. He needed to act up.

“Oi Tomu! Ready to go back ?” He turned toward your voice, to see you wave at him. He ran toward you, ready to go back.

“Guys, do y’all want to go back inside ?

-No thanks Y/n!

-Ok, be nice then”

You walked in front of him, and he realized how much you were swinging your hips. Maybe he was just noticing it now? Or maybe you were doing it on purpose? What if you were gonna go into heat soon?! No, humans did not have heat. Not that he knew about. He came back to a clean stable, a lot of food, and he even saw a few treats that were not supposed to be here.

“Shhh, don’t say anything. I don’t need to be accused of doing favoritism.”

He chuckled, getting ready for the grooming session. He couldn’t wait. And god he did not regret anything. Your gentle fingers were playing in his fur, detangling everything, you even braided the hair on his head , taking them away from his face. It felt so good. You applied the cream he needed for his skin condition around his eyes, smiling proudly. Your dropped to your knees in front of him suddenly, your face inches of his crotch. You were just checking his hooves, but fuck, he could feel himself get hard. It didn’t help that you started touching his thighs, squeezing them amazed.

“You become so strong Tomu, look at you”

Yeah he had become strong, for you, so you could be proud of him and proud to be his mate.

“Y/n?

-Yes?

-I would like to become a breeder.”

You stopped your movement, staying silent.

“Y/n?

-Y-eah sorry. Hm of course you can. It’s normal. You need a mate after all.”

Ah. There has been a misunderstanding.

“I have to go. I’ll let you know when we’ll start the program okay?”

You almost ran out of the stable, leaving him alone and sad. Fuck, why didn’t he simply told you he needed you. He didn’t need a mate, he needed you to be his mate. He felt like breaking the door and running after you. Maybe he should have followed Bakugou’s method and just tell you right up that he needed to knot you. No definitely no... He really hoped he didn’t made you sad, or that you were mad at him. It would kill him.

Your heart was clenching in your chest. What was even that pain? Why did you felt like someone had stabbed you. It was stupid, you knew that day would come. It was selfish of you to react like this. It was in his nature, he needed a mate. You already had blocked him enough. You still cried under the shower this same night. The next day you found yourself talking with your colleagues about it. Most of the bull who were used for reproduction, didn’t have any contacts with the cows. They often were violent and cows were too precious for this. But the softer ones had the chance to chose a mate and actually have a physical relationship with them. That would probably be the case for Shigaraki you thought. You needed to ask him what he thought of it. You arrived at his stable, surprised not to see him look at you. He was always up at this hour normally. You called his name, but he didn’t answer. Worried you opened his stable, just to find him laying down on the hay.

“Tomura is everything okay?”

You looked around, noticing he had not eat any of the thing you had gave him yesterday. Worried you kneeled next to him, touching his shoulder gently. He did not react, but you still heated a little noise. A sob.

“Tomu, love, tell me what’s wrong, please I’m so worried...”

He turned around a bit and you could see he had cried, his pretty red eyes puffy. You even noticed how his neck and under eyes seemed to be red, like he scratched it.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I made you sad.

-No, Tomu, you didn’t. What are you talking about.

-Yesterday. You left upset with me. I hate it. I can’t live with you being upset.

-I was not upset baby. It’s all my fault. I was selfish by reacting like this. But it’s totally normal to want a mate. Tomu, baby, you don’t have to care about me.

-But I don’t want a cow, I want you.

-What?”

He sat down, looking at you in the eyes.

“If I told you I wanted to be a part of the program it just because I wanted you to help me. Like the others are doing. I don’t want to breed anyone. Just you.”

Your heart was going to explode. He wanted you, you thought. You heart was swelling from happiness.

“Y/n, don’t cry please” he cried out panicking.

“No baby it’s fine. I’m just happy. Fuck, I would love to help you.”

He took you in his arms, almost tackling you to the ground. All you could hear was little “don’t cry” coming from him.

You ended up leaving him alone, as you still made sure he was eating correctly. He suddenly seemed way more relaxed, even though you could see a deep blush on his cheeks. His little ears were fluttering and his tail was moving from right to left excitedly. You busied yourself all day, not seeing Shigaraki much. Bakugo and Midoriya had break into a fight and you and an other helper had to take them away from each other. Midoriya told you that his rut was going to come soon and that he couldn’t stand when Bakugou came too close from one of your colleagues. The worst was that Bakugou had no interest in them, he had his own favorite keeper, he just liked to mess with Deku. You decided that those two won’t be having any contacts until their rut had passed. You reassured Deku that his s/o was fine and that they’ll come see him soon. You put him in a stable far away from the others, where he would be in a calm environment. You finally finished your day way later than usual. You were exhausted and felt like you needed a thousand showers. But you still decided to go and see how Shigaraki was doing before going to sleep. When you arrived he was already looking for you, his eyes shining as he saw you getting closer.

“Oi Y/n! You look tired .... What happened

- We had to separate Midoriya and Bakugou earlier, they are going into rut. So I had a lot of work. It was a long day.”

You saw him look at you with more attention, his eyebrows knitted tightly. He looked a bit mad when he approached his head from you, his little nose pressed against your neck, you jolt in surprise when you felt the metal of his septum piercing against your neck.

“You smell like him....

-Like who?

-Deku...

-Well I worked with him so...

-I don’t like it. Normally you smell more like me...”

He never acted territorial toward you before. Maybe it was because of your new arrangement. You would need to talk to him about it, even if you new it was probably useless. None of the other bulls had been reasonable till now. You doubted he would be an exception. You finally left him, promising him to take a shower as soon as you were home and to come back the day after smelling all clean. You’ve never been that happy to leave in the house near the farm. A bunch of other keepers had decided to leave here together as it was cheaper and so close from work. You took a shower like promised and ate something before going to bed. Before going to sleep, you decided to do a bit of research. You knew how breeding worked. You had to supervise the thing a few time which had mortified you at first. Now you learned how to get detached and let the hybrids do their things while you were working somewhere else. But the “milking” part of the process kinda made you worried. You never had that much intimacy with an hybrid. You knew some of your colleagues had and that they even went further than just the milking. There was nothing wrong with that. It was actually pretty common between hybrids and humans. But you were a shy person, in that area at least. Thinking about just touching Shigaraki like that made a wave of arousal travel through your body. You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel like this. Maybe he wasn’t asking for this. He just wanted you to do this as a professional. And you were here, thinking about it as if you were talking about your boyfriend. After re reading the method a few time, the last thing you wanted was to hurt him in some way, you went to sleep, head full of a certain hybrid.

Shigaraki slept way better than the night before, but he was still annoyed about the smell situation. Maybe he should start senting you. After all you were his. He knew he was starting to get into his rut too. Soon every bull around here would be in the same situation. It was spring so it was expected. But this time he would spend it with you and fuck he couldn’t help but be happy about it. He woke a bit early so he would clean his stable, he didn’t want to make it look messy for when you’ll come. He knew it was ridiculous but he couldn’t help it. He even cleaned himself, making sure nothing was caught in his fur. He felt suddenly so hot, he couldn’t wait for you to come. Maybe it was the general tension in the air. Knowing that there was other bull in rut around here. It made him crazy. Why couldn’t you just hurry? Maybe you weren’t even gonna do anything today. What if he got his hopes up and you weren’t planning on doing anything today? He looked at how hard he was becoming, kinda embarrassed.

“Hey Tomu!”

He jumped at the sound of your voice. You looked so pretty today. You looked pretty every day but he couldn’t point his finger on what made you look so beautiful today. Maybe it was the way you styled your hair, the makeup you wore when you usually didn’t.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t you hear me come your way?” You chuckled.

He had to have you, he thought.

“So Tomu, I wanted to ask you when you wanted to start the breeding program. Bakugou and Midoriya are already in rut, normally yours start soon after, doesn’t it?

-It’s starting I think...”

His voice was quiet and you could see the blush on his cheeks and how he seemed more tense than usual.

“Oh okay... I’m gonna take your temperature and I’ll see from there.”

You placed the little tube on his tongue, waiting a minute before looking back. Yeah he was definitely entering his rut.

“ Ok Tomu, I’m gonna get ready and I’ll be back. We should wait till you’re completely in heat to start. Do you need me to explain how the procedure work?”

You were speaking so much words and he wasn’t even listening to them. He could only concentrate on your face, watching your lips move. He took a deep breath and he could smell you. So strong. You smelled so good.

“Don’t leave now, fuck, I need you”

You seemed conflicted for a bit.

“Ok I’ll be back in a minute, I swear it’ll be quick but I need to get something”

You didn’t let him answer as you were already leaving. He was gonna die if you didn’t come back quickly. None of his rut had been that hard on him before. It generally was longer than it was intense and it took a all day to settle down. But today his entire body was on fire and he was already so hard. You ran as fast as you could toward the office. You had let everything you needed there. You never grabbed a bag so fast, the other hybrids were looking at you weirdly when they saw you running through the farm. You came back to Tomura’s stable finding him on his knees, his cock in his hand .

“Y/n... fuck please”

He looked so gorgeous. His cock was an angry red, leaking precum like crazy. You dropped to your knees, next to him trying to comfort him a bit. You needed to get him in position so you could prep him, but he didn’t look like he wanted to move. He couldn’t stop pumping his length, not being able to cum.

“Ok I need you to get on your knees baby, you can do this for me?”

He whined but still did what you told him. He was arching his back, his cute little ears were flat against his hair. His tail was swiping in the air almost hitting you. You took the bottle of lube, squirting some on your gloved hands. He was too far gone to see anything at this point but you still wanted him to know what was going to happen. You lubbed the the upper part of what looked like a suction cup, making sure the milking tool won’t hurt him. You touch his shoulder making him look at you. You almost moan when you saw his red cheeks, teary eyes, drool almost dripping out of his mouth.

“I’m gonna put this on you baby, are you ready?

-No I want you. Not that please Y/n!

-This first, I promise I’m gonna touch you, I’ll make you feel really good.”

He didn’t say anything, you were already grabbing him in your hand. He was so heavy, throbbing against your palm. Fuck he would feel so good inside you. You stroked him a few times not being able to resist seeing him cry and buck his hips in your hand. You placed the lubbed part against his tip, his eyes falling on your hand.

“What is it?” He asked his voice quiet.

“It will help you... stay stimulated...It’s the same process we used for the cows”

It indeed looked the devices that were used to milk the cows. You pushed it down his length, watching it get swallowed. You watched Tomura, watching his eyes rolled in his head, tongue out of his mouth. Fuck you wish that was you. You wish you were the one making him feel this good.

“Ok baby, now I’m gonna touch you ok?

-Yes more !”

He threw his ass in the air, his hooves hitting the ground hard. You touched his fur, silky against your palm. Your hand caress the curve of his ass, gently spreading his cheeks.

“Y/n!

-Yes?

-W- why are you touching me there?

He didn’t had the time to answer before you push one finger inside. He gasped, throwing his head back.

« Y/n ! F-fuck »

You forgot everything when you saw him starting to rock his hips,your finger getting deeper inside him. You slowly put another finger in, his flesh already so tender you did not met any resistance. You crooked you fingers inside, your finger tips digging into his flesh’ hitting his sweet spot hard. He screamed, arching his back cumming so hard it made his entire body shake. He kept cumming as you didn’t stop moving your fingers.

« More! Please more! »

You added a new finger, the third one stretching him wide.

« Fuck, Tomura, you came so hard you’re so good. Your little hole is swallowing my fingers »

He moaned, clenching more and you looked at the tube seeing more and more cum dripping inside.

« I’m gonna milk you hard love, you’re so pretty like this fuck »

The words were just coming out of your mouth shamelessly at this point. You knew it was not professional, but you couldn’t help it. He was driving you crazy, his pretty face was flushed, his eyes full of tears, lips bitten red and all wet with drool.

« I can’t stop! It feels too good, can’t stop- »

His voice was broken, and he was trusting his hips, making harder and harder for you to hold him down.

« I want to be inside you, please Y/n! Please! I want to cum inside- »

You wanted that to, so bad, but you knew you couldn’t right now.

« A little more love »

He was shaking from all his limbs. Your fingers started to get tired from all this, but with a final twist of your wrist, you pressed three fingers hard against his flesh, making him collapsed from pleasure.

« Too much, it hurts, please »

He was shaking on the ground, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. You stopped the movement with your fingers. You let him go of the equipment, finally freeing his cock. You looked at the machine, impressed by the amount of cum.

« Tomu are you okay? »

He nodded slowly, smiling as he felt your hand on his hair.

“It still feels good...

-I didn’t hurt you right?

-No...”

You took him in you arms, laying in the hay with him, murmuring in his ear how much you loved him. He looked so vulnerable right now, but here he was, his face pressed against your chest, breathing calmly. You kissed the top of his head, smiling as well.

“I love you, my mate” he said, pressing his lips against his neck.

“I love you too.”

You looked down at him, seeing his eyes closed, his breathing study. You needed to take the material back and to start cleaning, but you felt so good right now. Maybe it could wait a little bit more.

#bnha #mha fanfiction #mha smut #mha imagines #my hero academia #shigaraki headcanons #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki smut

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luvspence · 4 years ago

Text

shared jackets

spencer reid x reader

synopsis: you may have forgotten your jacket (on purpose) and spencer lends you his

a/n: i have an obsession with things that say my name (it’s the narcissist in me) and i have an even BIGGER obsession with stuff that says my s/o’s name. so i saw this scene at it came to me. just babie spence in his little jacket AAA

master list!

you rubbed the back of your arms, braving the new york night in nothing but a t shirt

“we had to budget for the jackets and i always forget it in the car” you said while shaking your head

“well, i think they were a good investment. so people are actually aware i’m an fbi agent and not just some nerd with a gun” spencer replied

you laughed and looked at him

“seriously?”

“well no ones out right called me “nerd with gun” but one time we were giving the profile and someone asked me if i was the guy to fix the copy machine”

he said sticking his hands in his pockets

“god why would the copy machine guy need a gun”

he shrugged and laughed as you two continued to walk, the suvs still being a good distance

a breeze blew by and you shivered once again

“it is so cold”

“well yes, but the wind does not make it any better. it’s actually called the ‘wind chill factor’ and it refers to the rate of body heat lost due to the wind, which makes it feel colder than the actual air temperature”

you nodded and continued to rub the back of your arms to try and produce some heat

spencer watched at your hair blew over your face, and you laughed and picked the stray pieces out of the way, as it sticked annoyingly to your lip gloss.

he reached out his hand to move one last piece of hair that you missed, his cold hands gently passing over your lips and your cheek until the hair was blowing behind your head

you shuddered when his hand touched your face

“oh i’m sorry”

“oh no it’s okay! thank you actually, i’m just really really cold and your hands are very very cold”

spencer nodded, tugging on the fbi provided windbreaker he had on

eventually he pulled it off and stuck it in front of you

“here, this will keep you warm” he said with a smile

“then what’s gonna keep you warm?”

“well, w-ell i’m much taller than you! and well um heat rises so”

“i don’t think that’s how it works”

“it’s not, but given that i am taller i do carry more body weight meaning i produce more body heat. so i will be fine. but you seem to not be”

he said as he waved the jacket in front of you

“okay, thank you” you said as you put on the jacket

a couple sizes too big, spencer was right. he was tall. so the jacket hit your lower thigh, not to mention that “dr. spencer reid” was embroidered on the front

your hands didn’t even come out of the sleeves, they just awkwardly hung in the balance as you walked

“that’s infuriating” spencer said was a raised eyebrow

“what?”

“it looks better on you than it does on me”

you laughed “not even! you look great in this jacket come on, you look great in everything!”

you didn’t mean to say the last part, but it just kind of slipped

“i do?”

he said as he laughed and straightened the tie he was wearing

“yeah, you’re the only person i know who can pull off those button up short sleeve shirts”

he blushed “well t-thank you” he said was a tight closed mouth smile

and uncomfortable amount of time went past before spencer said

“you also l-look good un everything! i mean you look good always! uh regardless. yeah. y-you’re very pretty is what i’m g-getting at” he said basking in the awkwardness

“why thank you spencer that’s very kind of you” you said

you followed up “i think you’re very pretty too”

he just smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets as you finally reached the car

you got in the middle seat, smushed next to spencer and derek on the other side

you still had his jacket on, honestly forgetting it all together

spencer didn’t though, he spent most of the car ride nervously counting the days since he had washed it, and wondering if it smelt bad, and wondering if you would notice the curry stain on the inside or the hole in the pocket

while spencer was worrying, your eyes became heavier and heavier before you eventually fell asleep, leaning your head on spencer’s shoulder unconsciously

spencer didn’t move a muscle, just carefully sliding his hand over to move a piece of hair from your face, being careful not to wake you

he sat and stared at you, your eyes shut and your face perfectly rested on his arm

his day dreams of you borrowing his jacket and sleeping on his shoulder on a normal, non-platonic basis was interrupted by morgan

“kid”

“what?”

“this is getting sad to watch”

“what? and shh don’t wake up y/n”

he laughed

“oh i’m sorry you wanna keep your girlfriend all nice and comfy”

“shut up! she’s not my girlfriend. and what’s getting sad to watch now???”

he said as he looked down to insure you were still asleep

“you and y/n. y’all obviously got something, and you obviously are in LOVE with her, don’t think i don’t notice. the jacket she’s wearing says “dr. spencer reid” for a reason!”

“okay sure whatever maybe i enjoy her company and her laugh and her face and whatever okay just her! but, it’s not reciprocated. no way she totally just sees me as a colleague”

“you know what pretty boy, i’m gonna tell you something you don’t hear often. you’re wrong”

immediately after derek said that you opened your mouth, eyes still closed

“yeah you’re wrong spencer”

he looked at you in terror “you’re up?!”

“have been ever since you shushed morgan”

he laughed nervously

“so i’m wrong?” hes asked again

“yup, so wrong. i actually purposely left my jacket in here so i could wear yours” you said sighing into spencers shoulder “it just smells so good”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluffy #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n #mgg #mgg fic #mgg x fem!reader #mgg x y/n #mgg x reader

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scary-senpai · 2 years ago

Note

Late reply is late 😅

First at all, I wanted to thank you for the answer about Garou's parents and the links you included about your others works! It took me a while to read them all! (Life has been busy lately) 😅.

But anyway, if it is possible, I would like to ask you, what do you think of the last chapter and what awaits for the future?

Mainly with the HA and Garou possible join them?

I believe people like Amai Mask would take it pretty badly considering he wanted to go straight for the kill and if Garou ends up as a S class hero, it would just add salt in the wound.

I think many of the C, B and A heroes would quit immediately, but the fact that Garou did not fight all the S class heroes gives a little ray of hope of being accepted (or at least tolerated) more easily.

Not that they would welcome him with open arms or something, but not having to apologize to them in particular could help.

(I sure hope as hell that Bang would not make Garou apologize to the ones who hitted him back then, they lost their right to an apology after that).

And also, I know I mentioned this before, but have you noticed that there have been more people trying to prove the 0.01 % chance of the theory of "Blast is future Garou" after the last chapter? They are a lot of memes about it!

The thing that caught my attention about this the most, and the Neo heroes arc, it is if there would be any interactions between Garou and Blue.

That would be very interesting...

Those 2 right now, represent everything their ideas oppose, with Garou being a "former criminal" and Blue being the "leader" of a lot more corrupted organization who believes they have any right to turn whoever they seem fit into cyborgs (pretty sure that in the webcomic they tried to capture Garou for that porpuse).

And in the 0.01% chance of Blast being actually Garou in the future, that would be mean that Blue would meet his dad when he was a kid like himself and, don't know, understand him better perhaps?

So? What do you think of this?

Gaah—oh my goodness. If you read all my stuff, you are legally entitled to my hand in marriage, and/or a bowl of soup <3 (But you're under no obligation! I reblog/link stuff hoping that somebody will read them, but never anyone in particular.)

Anyway, thank you so much for writing, Cherished Tumblr Compadre. I’ve been thinking a lot about the last chapter! I could literally meta for days about all the red flags happening in the Hero Association right now, but I’ll try not to indulge in too many tangents. I already vented a bit about the hiring process, the apparent lack of background checks, and Sitch’s consistent failure to communicate.

Going back to your ask, though, there’s a technical term for many of the snide interpersonal interactions we see at the HA, and that’s workplace bullying. Even if he’d come in under the best of circumstances (fresh from the dojo, no hero hunt and no criminal record), Garou would certainly get shit from somebody and suffer from the utter cliquey-ness of the place. For an organization focused on Justice, they can be patently unfair--as Garou knows from his convo with Death Gatling. (And Bang knows this, too, because we’ve seen him comment on his colleagues behavior—although he doesn’t really address it directly).

Anyway, my Overly Sad Headcanon / Depressing Meta is that Bang, well aware of Garou's childhood angst, is doing his own crude version of Exposure Therapy and in hopes that Garou will learn to rise above conflict, and to play nicely even when folks actively antagonize him. I think I prefer that to my other depressing meta, which is that Bang has yet to see Garou for Garou, and instead simply imagines his protégé as a younger version of himself.

In any case, I’m curious why Bang resigned immediately, as opposed to reducing his schedule and/or taking personal leave as he supports Garou’s transition, and then returning together with him—it almost feels like there were ultimatums involved. I think Bang’s presence will be crucial for Garou’s success at the HA—not only so that Garou feels like he’s got somebody in his corner, but so that the other employees feel more comfortable, because Garou’s always hanging around a chaperone. I love Garou, but he has the potential to be very dangerous in response to a perceived threat. Additionally, he’s put a lot of effort into making himself seem scary and that will come back to bite him in the ass, even among people he has not actively battered. Fear/anxiety responses are not something we can so easily override, but that’s a CogPsych digression for another day. I am still triggered by a current client that reminds me of my emotionally abusive ex-boss, even though it’s been several years since I left that job and I was never in physical danger.

OPM feels like it was written by someone who understands behavioral economics / organizational psych very well and/or is quite familiar with how Kafka-esque managing a company (particularly a nonprofit) can get…or someone that knows very little and has somehow gotten lucky and lampooned all the right things. Catbert would be proud.

So, I am not endorsing this approach, but here’s a real thing that happens at companies: getting people to quit is sometimes a deliberate gambit, even a strategy. Sitch (or another executive) might have done the math and decided, "yes, I one solid S-Class hero adds more value than 100 B/C class heroes. Let’s make that sacrifice.”

Ideally you would work hard to make all your staff comfortable, but that isn't always possible, and some companies can’t be bothered. Unhappy / anxious employees are unproductive employees. In that case, Upper management might well say, "if you don't like the direction we are taking, then by all means--please, go with God. And also, you’re not worth the headache.” And we have seen upper management get very, very ruthless about strategy. And besides, not everybody can just up and leave a job. It probably helps that the HA is the only game in town, at least for now

I spend a lot of time thinking about the economy in the OPM-verse—it can’t be good. In a world --where your entire commercial district might be flattened under a giant monster corpse at a moment’s notice, or your public transit / highway system becomes suddenly FUBAR due to yet another monster-induced catastrophe, Hero work would probably be a comparatively stable career.

Anyway, @gofancyninjaworld used the analogy that "the Hero Association hiring Garou now is like opening up a marriage after your spouse has cheated," but I'd go one step further and say, "it's like opening up a marriage because your spouse has been cheating chronically for years." There are many things that will likely come to light because of Garou--lack of transparency, lack of supervision/oversight, unequal treatment. Nothing that’s Garou’s fault, but Garou’s presence will likely crack already faulty foundations.

Speaking of which:

I know this arc been a journey for everyone, mostly ending in positive changes, and this includes Waganma's dad, Narinki. He probably has an improved opinion of heroes now.

But if one high-ranking executive thinks like this, others likely share this perspective--because if they didn't, then Narinki probably wouldn't be there in the first place. My old company was not the healthiest or most cohesive work environment, but if anybody ever implied the front line workers weren't earning their keep, even on an “easy” shift, they would be immediately and mercilessly eviscerated by the rest of the office staff (many of whom had been front line workers previously). We didn’t always see eye to eye, but we agreed that the frontline workers should be making as much money as we could possibly afford to pay them, all of the goddamn time.

Speaking of which. The HA could stand to have some heroes on their executive board, if they don’t already. Most successful orgs try to diversify their leadership with current/former employees, and (usually if they are a service oriented nonprofit) from the populations they support. You don’t have to be a wealthy businessman in a suit to serve on leadership committee—but it does get frustratingly insular sometimes.

In that sense, maybe the HA does need someone like Garou, who can see through PR bluster and speak truth to bullshit power. He just needs to sharpen his diplomacy skills.

Speaking of diplomacy, it seems like Garou is certainly primed for conflict with Amai Mask. On the other hand, I like to think that Garou is also uniquely positioned to understand Amai, perhaps moreso than any other character. Garou knows the anger and fear that comes with being a monster, and (if he does join up with the HA) the crushing pressure to uphold a positive image in spite of whatever storm is roiling inside you. Amai externalizes his pain and sadness on to other people. That was Garou’s downfall, too.

I do have this bittersweet headcanon where Garou figures out Amai’s identity and his mind is absolutely blown, because, well...

Garou, pacing frantically: If you're a hero but you're actually a monster then... that means... you aren't actually popular you're... oh, wow. [[Garou abruptly stops pacing and makes eye contact with Amai]] That sounds really fucking hard, actually.

Amai, coolly: I’d certainly say so.

Garou, pacing again, and biting his nails: See, ever since I was a kid I've always rooted for the monster. but I don't know if it was actually about the monster...now that I think about it, and I’ve finally met some monsters, I’m starting to think that it might have been about the rooting for underdog, you know?

Amai: I’ve never been one for cartoons.

Garou: and... you're kinda the underdog here... so... I think I might, uh... I might... be a fan? I mean, I might be your fan--

Amai, smiling slightly: that is quite kind of you to say.

Garou, practically tearing out his own hair: --possibly your biggest fan--

Amai, magnanimously: I suppose it’s no surprise that you’d come around eventually--

Garou, cutting him off: --but I absolutely hate your music...and literally everything else about you.

Amai: ...

Garou: like, I’m on your side, but I don’t wanna be in the same room as you, you know?

Amai, sighing: you really ought to quit while you’re ahead.

“I’m on your side, but also I don’t want to be in the same room as you,” is probably something Garou hears a lot, bless him.

OPM has this almost-but-not-quite hopeful motif that “the best possible outcome arises when the absolute worst thing occurs,” and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s how Garou’s story will go—in many ways, he’s been through more than anybody else and in that sense he has the most potential to help everybody else.

Now, you mentioned apologies. I would say that (in most cases) everyone deserves an apology, but nobody’s entitled to forgiveness. Those are two very different things.

It is my (probably unpopular) opinion that forgiveness is something you do for you, as a way of moving on--it is not necessarily for the benefit of the person apologizing, especially in extreme cases like this, Sometimes forgiveness means setting boundaries. Someone once described forgiveness as “take a boltcutter to the chains of an unpleasant experience so that it no longer has power over you.” When it comes to some people I’ve forgiven, like my former employer or an abusive ex, I honestly prefer not to think of them. In other cases—like forgiving my loved ones for things they’ve done (usually unintentionally)—it’s the mistake that we’ve agreed to move away from, not each other, and we mutually agree on the work it will take (and consistent behavioral changes we need to see) in order to repair / strengthen our relationship after a misstep. It really, really depends on the scenario, and the people involved, and what your goals are. Healing alone takes work, and healing together with somebody else usually takes twice as much effort (if not more, tbh)

Someone can sincerely accept Garou’s apology, and hope that he turns his life around, and also never want to see him again (or work for the same employer). None of those things are mutually exclusive, nor are they wrong.

I think Garou’s preliminary (and most daunting) challenge will be to forgive himself for his past actions. Until he accomplishes that, he can’t fully conceptualize what makes a heartfelt apology.

We never actually saw Garou apologize for dining and dashing, for example--instead, he notably rambled off on a tangent, justifying previous crimes. It’s funny and sweet and a little troublesome. But I think we can guess where it comes from... Garou does not often see people apologizing to him.

Garou’s temper and incorruptible stubborn streak are why I doubt he’s actually Blast—although admittedly I’m having some fun imagining that theory. But Blast works on a team. Blast is level-headed. He’s a straight-shooter and a clear communicator, even under pressure...and these are all qualities that Garou does not fully embody right now. He might have demonstrated a talent for teamwork, but he won’t admit to it. He helps Sai to focus enough to time travel, but those are memories he can no longer access. I do hope he finds them again. Anyway, the potential is certainly there, and i believe that Garou could (in time) cultivate these qualities and ultimately excel at them…but honestly I don’t see anyone around him to guide him, or even to model this behavior. If anything, I think Garou will end up enlightening Bang more than Bang could ever hope to enlighten Garou.

I think it’s interesting to consider how Garou and Blue might interact, if the “Garou is Blast” theory comes true. I feel like it would probably be... traumatic for the both of them, honestly.

Think about it: Garou hasn’t quite figured out his own childhood and already he’s tasked with being an adult. I mean, wow, can you imagine the pressure?!? “Bang is like 100 years old and he’s still not ready to be a father,” Garou probably thinks to himself but lovingly, and with great affection for his mentor. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do?!?”

If Blue is Garou’s son, I hope Garou discovers this quickly , because Garou it seems like he would feel... immense regret and sadness for failing to be a fully present parent. Even if he’s still just a kid himself and the whole situation is patently absurd, he might end up chastising himself for not being a good father even though he had no way of knowing he was actually supposed to be one.

Thinking about this from Blue’s perspective? I imagine it would be very hard for him also. Again, I haven’t read most of the wc, but Blue more mature than Current Garou. Current Garou is someone who is really in need of a parental figure right now (honestly he needs multiple mentors and/or parental figures, partly because he needs so much support and partly because he needs to regain trust / feel safe around other adults). So, in that sense maybe he’d be better off hanging around another kid? It’s really hard to tell. Garou’s kind of a wild card.

Garou is also emotionally immature, which tends to exacerbate any existing interpersonal struggle. We’ve seen how he handles emotional closeness--he runs away, and challenges people to find him. Like most teenagers, he lashes out to test boundaries. He can’t even tell Bang, “I missed you, and I’m glad you’re here.” He just says “took you long enough, you old windbag!” And Bang doesn’t seem to want to use his words either. Garou struggles to keep his anger under control. He seems to feel a little bit awkward and anxious in social situations, unless he’s masking or performing in some capacity. Even a friendly conversation with his most trusted person hit some rough patches… so imagine him navigating such an unusual one?

Your idea that the Neoheroes wanted to turn Garou into a cyborg is a really good one! I hadn’t considered that, but it makes a lot of sense.

So as we know, Neo-heroes are into extreme body modification. That seems like it would make them the obvious baddies. But, as we learned in Ch 167.5, there are some folks at the HA pushing for a similar approach:

The higher-ups want me to try drugs, body modifications, whatever it takes!

And the heroes are questioning my awareness of human rights and threatening me with lawsuits!

I suppose Gobrich means to say that the employees are threatening to sue the company, which is, again, an inadvisable tactic, but not an uncommon one: some companies decide the cost of getting sued is worth the overall benefit they’d see from a particular strategy. Also, winning a lawsuit is often more about weasel-wording and the evidence/strength of a case than actual reality… and that’s assuming you have the resources to follow through with a lawsuit, which not everyone does. I would not want to go toe-to-toe with an entity like the HA, I’ll tell you that much.

Scarily enough, this Gobrich situation is not an uncommon scenario IRL, either--sometimes it’s just one rational person in the right position that’s able to hold back an unfair, inhumane, or otherwise detrimental change.

Right now, the HA is pretty much the only game in town. Normally, that’s a bad thing--folks that want to work as career heroes don’t seem to have options when it comes to employers, which would give the HA more leverage over its employees, perpetuating things like unfair (or downright unjust) treatment. In this case, though, there’s an unintentional upside: while there isn’t a consensus about how to improve the current roster of heroes, there are at least some forces (or just individuals, like Gobrich) putting a kibosh on more extreme techniques, like body modification--at least, for now.

What that means is, though, there might not be a mass exodus of “Heroes that Don’t Like Garou” -- there might also be a second wave of extremists jumping ship to work/play mad scientist for a less morally conservative organization. The latter example is much more scary to me. :-/

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spencer-reid-in-a-pool · 4 years ago

Text

All Cream, No Sugar

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Here is my sfw fic that was submitted to my friend @writing-in-april for the 4th Fic Swap on @imagining-in-the-margins ‘s Discord! Not my best work because I have been struggling to manage time lately and balance everything with my school and personal life. But I hope it is enjoyable nonetheless!

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

It was Thursday. Possibly the worst day of the week. Even more awful than Monday. It always felt like a barricade between the beginning of the week and the weekend. The glorious, lazy weekend. Honestly, now that I think about it...Thursday has the same kind of feel as November.

I chuckled to myself as I left my apartment. My mind was a special place, and I guess today was no different. Better than thinking about my finals, though. Literally anything was better to think about instead of final exams. That’s why I’m treating myself to a break at my favorite coffee shop. I deserve it, really, after the studying I have been doing all day. At least, that’s what I tell myself so I feel okay about spending all this money on coffee.

The car ride over there was quick enough. I lived on the outskirts of the city, but this place has the best coffee, and I would drive a ridiculous amount of time to get to it. No matter the distance, it would be worth it.

And maybe...just maybe…I would see that guy that comes in sometimes. The one with the messy hair and the sweater vests. He was so intriguing. I don’t even know his name, but I always notice when he comes in while I’m there. It was pretty much impossible not to. Hopefully one day I would work up the nerve to talk to him. Maybe that day would be today.

I walked in the building, and the smell of coffee and sweets immediately hit me. It was so comforting. Almost like a tiny sanctuary away from home, and I was always so appreciative.

As soon as the little bell on the door rang, the barista behind the counter looked up and shot me a smile. They recognized me quite often.

“Hey, (Y/N), the usual?” she called from across the floor.

“You know it,” I said with a wink.

I took my favorite seat in the shop and looked around. It was pretty empty today, which was just the way I like it. It means less time to wait for my coffee and I can sit in peace. The only thing that would make it better is if that guy came in and I got my big girl pants on to ask him his name.

After a few minutes, my coffee was brought to me and I handed the waiter some cash for my order, with a good amount leftover for a tip. His smile was bright and thankful, and it made me hopeful for today.

Each time the door opened and another person walked in, my heart skipped a beat. I stopped counting when I got to 10 people that turned out not to be him. It irked me more than I care to admit.

I was starting to lose hope, staring daggers at the dregs of my leftover coffee. Perhaps I thought I would find him there? I just wanted to see him.

A tap on my shoulder drew me out of my thoughts. Well, it startled me out of them more like. With a gasp, I jumped and looked up at the person who tapped on me. It was the barista who greeted me and made my coffee. Sophie. My favorite barista to spill all my problems to.

“You okay? You look like you’re really thinking hard about something.”

I sighed and almost smiled at how ridiculous I was being.

“Yeah, I’m okay. And I was thinking about something. Can you sit for a minute?”

She nodded, “I’m on break, thankfully.”

Once she took her seat across from me at the tiny table, I wrapped my fingers around the now room temperature coffee cup in front of me.

“So, what’s up? What could you possibly be thinking about that’s got you looking like that?”

“Um, well. There’s this guy…”

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward a bit, as if to ask me to continue.

“You might have seen him in here before. He comes in as much as I do, which is why I noticed him.”

“What does he look like?”

“Well, he’s tall. He wears sweaters a lot...um…oh, his hair is kind of messy, but in a cute way. And he has this dumb little satchel he carries sometimes-”

“Does he look like that guy?” Sophie asked as she pointed behind me.

I followed where her finger was pointing by the door and sure enough, he was there. But he was there with another girl I had never seen him with before. She had dark hair and striking eyes, along with a certain air about her that just gave off badass vibes. Of course he would have a girlfriend. And a gorgeous one at that.

I turned back to Sophie quickly before he noticed me staring.

“Uh, yeah. That would be him. But I’ve never seen that girl before. It figures, though. Just my luck.”

The pair began walking farther into the shop, talking quietly as they approached the counter to order. The more they talked and smiled at each other, the more my heart seemed to falter.

“Oh, (Y/N),” Sophie said quietly so only I would hear, “I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t respond to her. I didn’t have to. The look in my eyes was enough to let her know what I was thinking and feeling.

Her break was about to be over, so she placed a hand gently on top of mine, and with a small smile, left me there.

Well, there was only one thing left to do. Get another coffee, and maybe something sweet to drown my sorrows in.

I took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing my empty cup to throw away when I got to the front to order. I didn’t see them anywhere now. They must have ordered already and found a seat. But truthfully, I didn’t look around for them long. I didn’t want to.

I ordered a black coffee and a doughnut, and waited for a second for them to hand me my order instead of going back to my table to wait. Sometimes they put too much creamer in the coffee, so this way I could go over to the cream and sugar stand and make it myself.

Coffee and doughnut in hand, I made my way over to the small fridge they left out for customers to put in their own creamer and milk. I wasn’t really feeling the flavored seasonal creamers they had, so I just grabbed the half and half and started pouring. I didn’t really want any sugar either. I had my doughnut, which I probably wouldn’t even eat to be honest. My stomach was in knots.

A sudden voice behind me knocked me out of my thoughts.

“All cream, no sugar, huh? I’m the total opposite.”

I was so startled that my hand seemed to seize up, causing me to jerk the carton of half and half away from the cup. Now there was liquid all over the counter.

“Oh. I’m so sorry- Here, let me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I still hadn’t looked at who was talking to me, so when the footsteps got closer and I felt someone next to me, I decided I should finally look up.

It was him. The guy. The one I came here for. Except now he was standing right next to me.

He grabbed a handful of paper towels and started wiping up the mess on the counter while I stood wide-eyed and in shock. I should probably say something.

“I’m so sorry. I was...thinking about something and you startled me. I feel so clumsy.”

He looked up at me with a hint of a smile on his face.

“No, it’s really my fault. I’m not good at talking to people.”

Once he had finished cleaning up, he threw the paper towels away and turned back towards me.

“What’s your name? I see you in here sometimes. I guess you could say we’re both regulars.”

A lump formed in my throat that I had to swallow down forcefully. He saw me in here sometimes? He noticed me? Did he ever see me looking at him? Oh no.

“Um, my name is (Y/N). I see you in here sometimes too. The coffee here is really good, yeah?”

He smiled again, but bigger and more pronounced this time. Nodding his head, he shifted his bag and looked back at me.

“My name’s Spencer. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

Now it was my turn to smile. This was going pretty good, all things considered. It’s too bad about that girl he’s with, though. Speaking of the girl, she was walking towards us right now. Fantastic. Just what my anxiety needed.

“Spencer, we just got a call. Did you not pay attention to your phone?” the woman said in a hurry as she came closer.

Spencer jumped a bit and started to dig in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and laughed nervously.

“I have it on silent. Whoops.”

The woman rolled her eyes and then seemed to notice me standing there.

“Ohh, I see. You had it on mute so you could talk to this girl you were telling me about, hmm? Better hope I don’t tell Hotch”

Spencer opened and closed his mouth a few times, and I was simply shocked. He wanted to talk to me? Like, on purpose? He told this woman about me?

“I’ll meet you outside, Emily,” Spencer groaned at her.

The woman named Emily smiled at me and winked before leaving. So now it was just me and Spencer, standing awkwardly together. Great.

“I, um...ignore her. She’s a colleague from work...and apparently my wing woman now.”

I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. So she was just a friend. I had gotten myself all sad and anxious for nothing. Honestly, that’s typical for me though, so…

I could only smile. So much so that it made my cheeks hurt.

“So, do you have to leave? For work or something?”

Spencer shifted his weight nervously.

“Yeah, I um, yeah I’m sorry. I really would like to stay and talk more. I hope you don’t find it weird I told her about you, by the way. I just notice you in here a lot and I think you’re really pretty and I just-”

He cut himself off suddenly and looked at me sadly.

“I have to go, but here.”

Hurriedly, he pulled out a scrap piece of paper from his bag and a pen. He leaned over the counter and quickly wrote his name and number on the paper and handed it to me somewhat forcefully.

“Text me or call me...you know, if you want. Um, I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

He turned on his heel and began walking towards the door.

“Spencer!” I called across the shop.

Spencer stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me, almost with an excited glint in his eye.

I held the paper he gave me gently in my hand and took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart.

“I noticed you, too.”

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aka-indulgence · 4 years ago

Text

I was a bit sad and I had an idea with Kraken Sans so....... here it is /w\

Hurt/comfort, reader feels lonely and usually tries to hide it, etc. etc.... giant sea monster man comes to comfort.

-----

There were many reasons you went to the cliff by the sea, with it’s huge waves crashing onto its craggy side.

There were times when you came with friends to go down to the beach. There were times when you came just to enjoy the view (the sunsets were especially breathtaking).

And then there were times where you came when you weren’t feeling so great and just needed to go somewhere.

That was the case right now.

You lean against the railing, the only barrier stopping you from falling down. Looking down always made you dizzy during the day, but during the night, all was dark; nothing but shadows below you, with the occasional glimmer of the waves, or a bit of sea foam whenever the sea struck the rocky face.

Your eyes shimmer as they look up at the stars. Out here, far away from artificial lights, they were clear to see, twinkling wherever you looked at the sky. The wind was blowing in your hair, sweeping your tear-stained cheeks.

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying.

“S… stupid…” you mutter, wiping away the infuriating drops away from your face, even as they keep springing from your eyes.

W… what were you supposed to do when you felt lonely? It wasn’t like you could just… swim over to the main island just like that. Even if you got on a ship, you’d only be there temporarily before you had to go back, and you weren’t exactly made of money to go every day.

You were here to work, and you get visited sometimes, and that’s nice…

But there are times when you really just… wanted someone to be with you, on this relatively tiny piece of land.

“G-get it together… stop… crying already…” you sniffled, frowning in dismay as more kept flowing out of your eyes. You pressed your hand to them, closing your eyes, your body shaking as a silent sob wreaked through it. Your tears ran down your elbow, falling to the waves below.

A few more moments of that gnawing, painful feelings of loneliness, and you took a deep breath, folding your arms on top of the railing. You took in the salty air, letting it slowly fill your chest before exhaling it out. The tears hadn’t stopped, but you’re sure you wouldn’t feel like you were stuck in a lobster cage anymore when you went back to the bungalow you stayed in.

… Maybe… just a few more moments out here. At least until I’m really calm. You thought, waiting for yourself to stop crying, just breathing in, and out.

The sound of the waves and the winds were relaxing, unwinding your muscles. It was quiet and loud at the same time, in a way that you enjoyed.

You were sighing when all of a sudden you a hear a much louder, big splash, waters below you being disturbed, as if something big had come near the shore.

… Or more accurately, like something big had come out of the water.

You watch with wide eyes as a giant skeleton?!?!? Rose out of the waves, with something dark and gleaming rolling about, parting and making waves around it. You squeak when a massive hand lands right beside you, crushing the and bending railing like it was made out of thin wires. You were completely frozen when a skull much bigger than your entire body appeared behind the cliff, and huge lantern-eyes stared down at you.

They both shone white, but there were little changes in its brightness, as if it was a floating ball of liquid sloshing around an invisible container. In a weird way, it reminded you of the sea itself, with globs moving back and forth in those huge glowing spheres.

It only took a few more moments of staring into this giant’s eyes (eyelights?) before you noticed the predicament that you’re in, and fear settled in as your utter shock started to bleed away.

A- A kraken?!!

You assumed as much, those long tendril like objects that were slopping around this creature must’ve been its tentacles.

You started taking a step back.

W… what’s a kraken doing here? W-was he here to eat you??!

Maybe it was the step, or maybe it was the pure terror that was on your face, but suddenly the huge beast reacted. His face contorted into a look of sadness and worry, and the huge interlocking sharp teeth that made his mouth parted in the slightest. He let out an impossibly deep rumbling sound that practically quaked the ground and shook your entire body. The sound stops you in your tracks, trying to stop yourself from losing your footing.

He made another, slightly higher sound that reminded you of whale songs, the hand on the cliff shifting against the ground, his fingers gently curling behind you. The paranoid side of you thought for a second that he was trying to block your escape route, but he didn’t try to grab you or squash you; just making a (protective?) curl around you.

Your hammering heart started to slow down as you realized this giant of the deep doesn’t seem to mean you any harm. But if he didn’t, then… why was he here?

“H… hello?” you greet(?) him tentatively, rubbing your hands together, both fidgeting and keeping them warm.

Your voice seems to have delighted him, as his furrowed brows raised a little and he looked like he was smiling.

Did… did he even understand…?

A series of clicking sound filled the air from somewhere in his throat (you’d wonder how, but you were staring at a giant skeleton-kraken monster). Somehow, it sounded happy to you, light and playful.

He brought his skull closer to the cliff, trying to get a closer look at you. Something about his gaze made you blush, and you hug your hands a little.

“…. (y/n)….” He rumbled again, and after bracing yourself against the deep sound, you perk a little when you realize he not only spoke, but he also said your name.

“H-??” you breathe, “How did you know my name??”

The monster seemed to process your question slowly, blinking once.

“like…. (y/n)….”

At that, the beast’s mouth definitely turned into a smile, and you hear the waves churning under him as he seems to get excited, his sockets crinkling. His tentacles must’ve hit the cliff, because you feel a minute shaking in the ground.

“Like me…?” you echo, and the giant nods as fast as his body allowed, making what you guess is a happy little trill in response.

You let out a sigh. He doesn’t seem especially dangerous at the moment, though you are aware of how easily it’d be for him to squash you like a bug.

His eyes seem to shine brighter when they look at you, and the movements below him slow down.

“How did you…” you start to say, but you’re not sure how much you want to know about apparently having a giant deep-sea admirer, and the fact that you never noticed he was even there. So instead you ask, “Well, who are you… Mr. Sea monster? Do you have a name?”

He didn’t take as long to answer that.

“sans….” he tells you. Then, “have… sea name…”

He demonstrates his other name by making a series of rumble and clicks that you don’t understand, but you assume must mean a whole lot in… ‘Sea language’.

You giggle at this apparent-gentle giant, smiling at him. “Oh ok! So, Sans, or…” you try to mimic whatever sounds Sans had made and apparently made him chuckle (new languages are hard!), “why are you up here?”

Sans’ grin falls a bit, and his eyes looked… sad? His other hand rises over the cliff, around your level, and he points at you.

Or more specifically, your face.

You furrow your brows a little. For you? Was this the time he chose to introduce himself to you?

“H-huh?” was all that came out of your mouth, looking from his pointed finger (it was pretty much as big as you!) to his face.

When it’s clear to him that you didn’t understand, he brings his hand close to you. So much closer that he was going to touch you. You held your breath a little, concerned as to what he’s about to do, and then-

Poke.

You felt a firm, yet light touch on your face. His finger was on your cheek.

“Wh…?”

“… water…” Sans rumbles. “from… your face…”

… Oh. Your tears. You still had tear tracks on your face, and you found you even still had some left when you blinked, another one falling down your face.

“O-oh, these?” your face reddened a little in embarrassment and you wiped the remaining drops away. “Th-they… it’s… nothing to worry about.”

Sans actually frowns, and his brows dip between his sockets.

“… sad.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

You were used to hiding your hurt from others. You were used to drying your tears and smiling for others when they came around the corner. As much as you hated having to just take and endure it, you wouldn’t know how to face others if they tried to look closer.

… And yet…

Just one word from this monster that just appeared himself to you… just brought down any sort of walls you were unconsciously trying to build.

It was so genuine, like…

Like he was speaking to your soul.

A new wave of tears welled up in your eyes, and you let them spill. No use hiding it when it feels like he could see right through you.

“Y-yeah. I was… I’m… sad.” You say in defeat, slouching in front of him. His pointing hand shifted around you, and blink through wet eyes, seeing him cup his hand around you, and his giant thumb gently press against your cheek, as if he was trying to wipe them away.

His hand was warm. It felt like… he was hugging you, the closest thing he could do to hug you, and you slump into his palm. You hug the thumb that was on your face and started to sob against the giant bone, shaking and shivering a little. Just… having someone with you… it opened the floodgates, again.

“I-I just…” you tremor, “I-I just feel so lonely s-sometimes…”

It wasn’t if you couldn’t speak to your friends, you could. But the distance was wearing on you, and you weren’t quite as close to your colleagues, and you just…

You just wanted someone to…

…

You wrap your arms around his thumb and rub your face against it, finding yourself comforted instead of afraid when his fingers curl further around you.

Lulling, empathetic songs sounded from the great monster, slowly getting lower in pitch before it raised back up to do it all over again. With practically no pressure, he rubs his thumb on your face, either to dry your tears or to pet you.

… Slowly, you let your trembling fingers go of his giant one, and Sans seems to sense that you’re pulling away, because he pulls his fingers away from you to let you stand. You hold onto the tip of his thumb and rub your sleeve against your face, sniffing.

“Th… thanks Sans.” was all you manage to eke out, unsure of what else to say.

Sans croons, bringing his hand back to press behind you, radiating heat and keeping you warm and safe from the slightly chilly night.

You feel slightly awkward in the silence, not sure what you’re supposed to say to a giant kraken monster after you just cried all over his hand.

You suppose, “I… I should go back. T-to my house,” you stammer, breath still interrupted by the occasional hiccup.

Sans’ calm and almost sleepy face suddenly looked distressed, looking at you like you just threatened him. Sad, weeping sounds came out of him, his fingers starting to close in around you.

Apparently, he didn’t want to say goodbye.

“W-wait! Don’t worry! We can always meet again!” you held your hand out against him, almost reassuring him while you were panicked. “I can come see you again here, tomorrow night, if you’d like?”

The wibbling and calls of despair he was making got quieter, and when you look back you realize both his hands were coming up behind you, like they were about to scoop you up and take you away. At your offer, Sans looked mildly placated, looking at you hopefully.

“tomorrow…” he echoes, “… promise…?”

Ah… maybe…

Maybe you weren’t the only one here who was lonely.

“I promise, Sans.”

You add, “You were good company. I’d like to meet you again tomorrow.”

He takes another moment to process your words before his smile was back on his face, wider than before. A series of rumbles came from him in waves, like… like a chuckle. He pulled his hands away from you, giving you your way back to the bungalow.

“tomorrow.” he says, almost in a sing-song voice, “(y/n). tomorrow.”

“That’s right,” you smiled at him, as you turned inland. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sans!”

“(y/n). tomorrow. (y/n). (y/n).”

You could faintly hear his voice as you walked back, with a little spring to your step. At the moment you had promised to see him tomorrow to stop him from possibly taking you away, but you really did like Sans. And you did want to see him again.

If you looked behind, maybe you could’ve seen those two huge lights, watching you walk back home.

#yea i jus been a bit sad and lonely lately ;v;#so i write.... for comfort... weh #sans x reader #kraken sans #hes been following you... because he loves you

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helloalycia · 4 years ago

Text

my happy ending [one] // kara danvers

summary: your crush from work decides to make a move, but she keeps putting off telling you something that you don't realise is actually really important

warning/s: none

author's note: i'm still working on a bunch of stuff but here's some old stuff to tide you over as i do. this is part one to a two-parter! enjoy :)

part two | masterlist

I sketched out some designs at my desk, ideas for some new Instagram and Twitter marketing CatCo we were planning to do. I was in charge of social media marketing at CatCo Worldwide, so things like this were routine at work. What wasn't routine was the cute blonde, Kara, AKA Cat Grant's assistant, approaching my desk with a chirpy smile on her lips.

"Hey, Y/N," she greeted, before setting down a coffee cup in front of me.

I smiled automatically, Kara's presence instantly affecting my mood in a positive way. I glanced at the cup and quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, Kara. Is this for me?"

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose adorably. "I was picking up Miss Grant's order and I remembered you said you loved the chocolate orange hot chocolates Noonan's do. So, I got you one."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Oh, wow, er, thank you. You didn't have to do that."

She shrugged, and I was sure she looked as flustered as I felt. "No biggie."

I took a sip of the hot chocolate and smiled at how good it was, but mostly because of who got it me.

"So, what are you doing?" she asked, walking around my desk and sitting at the edge. She glanced at my sketches and added, "Is that the new fashion post for our social media accounts? They look amazing!"

"Just some sketches, but eventually they will be," I said, before nodding. "And thanks. I just need the photos so I know what I'm working with. Gotta ask the new guy, James... you met him yet?"

Kara nodded. "Yeah, I just bumped into him earlier."

"Can you believe he knows Superman?" I asked with disbelief. "How awesome is that?"

She smiled with amusement. "Extremely awesome."

"Keira!"

Kara lost her smile when Miss Grant called for her, before looking to me apologetically. "I should–"

"It's cool," I said, nodding for her to leave before Miss Grant tracked her down. "Thanks again for the drink."

Kara flashed me a smile. "Anytime. See you later."

I watched her walk away, waving as she glanced over her shoulder. I found myself biting my lip to contain my own smile, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

Kara Danvers, assistant to Cat Grant.

Ever since she began working here, I found myself crushing on the blonde and her cute mannerisms. We were friends, occasionally hanging out outside of work and doing things together. But that's all it was, sadly. I knew she was friends with Winn – best friends, I think – and I also knew that the tech guy was practically in love with her. I didn't know him as well as I knew her, but I knew enough to not want to get in between the two of them. So, Kara Danvers remained a silly little crush.

I got back to my sketches, managing to draft up some mock-ups on Photoshop before my day ended. I was more tired than I thought that evening, ending up falling asleep earlier than usual. Which meant that I missed the biggest news in National City yet – a mystery woman saving a plane from crashing, possibly a new superhero.

I woke up the next morning to a million and one calls and texts from colleagues at CatCo, all expecting me to get on social media to post about this mystery woman. By the time I got to work that morning, I was caught up with everything and in awe at this new superhero we had. It was pretty darn awesome!

The amazement I felt however was short lived, as Cat was all over me when I got to the office, claiming I should have been on top of our social media coverage as soon as it happened. Apparently me falling asleep wasn't a valid enough point to miss it, so I was put to work instantly, working with the photography and marketing department to find some sort of coverage on this mystery hero.

As I was lining up some posts with the limited images available of this hero, I felt a presence stop by my desk and saw it was Kara.

"Morning," she greeted, before glancing at my computer. "Oh, so you heard?"

I chuckled. "Kind of hard not to. It's everywhere." I nodded to the many TVs around the office that were playing reruns of the news coverage from last night.

"Pretty cool, right?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Very, but it also means I now have a lot of work to do, especially because I fell asleep when all of this went down," I said, jokingly. "Cat has been all over me about this all morning."

Kara laughed and it was literally the best thing I'd heard all day.

"So, I was actually hoping I could tell you something," she said, an excited smile on her face as she met my eyes.

I felt a little flustered under her gaze and found myself distracting myself with my computer screen momentarily.

"I actually have a lot of things to do right now,” I said regretfully. “Maybe later?”

Her smile faded as she nodded. "Right, no, yeah, that's totally fine. Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologise," I said instantly, feeling a little bad. "I just– if I don't get this done, Cat will kill me."

"I got it, you do this, it's cool," she said reassuringly, offering me a small smile.

"Sorry," I tried, a little sad that there was nothing I could do. I really needed to get this done, despite wanting to spend some more time with Kara.

"It's fine, good luck," she said, giving me a grin and thumbs up before leaving.

I sighed, before getting back to work. Unfortunately, it was a few hours before I could get away from my desk, and I managed to track down Kara at her own desk, remembering she wanted to tell me something.

"Hey," I said, earning her attention.

She looked up from her notebook, smiling when she saw me. "Hey, you manage to get that content done?"

"Just about," I said, before offering a small smile. "Sorry again for blowing you off."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine, honestly."

"I'm free now though," I said optimistically. "Maybe we could grab an early lunch? You can talk to me then?"

Kara pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded slowly. "That sounds nice actually, yeah."

I felt a little relieved when she agreed. "Great. Well, I'll let you get your things and meet you by the elevator?"

She pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. "You got it."

We ended up getting lunch, as agreed, and it was nice to make it up to her. Though, I never really noticed that she never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so distracted by how smoothly our lunch was going that I forgot to ask her about it. Maybe if I'd asked, she might have told me the truth. Or she might have made something up and lied. I guess I would never know.

–

Did somebody say tiny umbrella drinks? #gottalovethetinyumbrellas #CatCoFoundation [image here]

I sent yet another tweet and picture out from CatCo's Twitter account, watching as it instantly got responses from everyone. I was at an event that Cat was throwing for all CatCo employees plus special guests. It was an event to raise money for Cat's foundation – a charity for children's hospitals in National City. My job was to live-tweet the heck out of the event, hoping to boost donations online.

It was a formal event, so I was comfortably dressed in some high-waisted pants and a silk blouse, it being my best attempt at 'formal' clothes.

The event wasn't too bad. There was free food and drinks, plus I got to hang out with some of my friends from work whilst doing the bare minimum. I just wasn't an evening person, I guess.

"Hey, stranger," a voice startled me, and I turned around, surprised to see Kara Danvers stood there.

I hadn't seen much of Kara in the past few months, despite working with her. She always seemed to be caught up with Winn, and she'd gotten quite close with the not-so-new guy, James Olsen. I wasn't stalking her or anything, but I began to notice when I would try to make plans with her like we used to – little things like grabbing coffee or going to watch a film after work – and she would decline or have plans already. Then I'd see her constantly being surrounded by Winn and James, so I figured she'd just made new friends.

"Kara," I breathed out, smiling as I took in her appearance. "Hey."

I hadn't seen her at all this evening and I was sure she just showed up because I definitely would have noticed how good she looked in that fitted red dress of hers.

"You look really nice," she said, looking me up and down before meeting my eyes.

"Thanks," I said, hoping my cheeks didn't look as warm as they felt. "So do you. You liking the event?"

Kara looked around, nodding. "It's beautiful."

"You did a good job," I said, giving her a knowing smile. "I know you planned it."

"This was all Cat, I just–"

"Kara, everybody knows you plan the events around here," I told her with a chuckle. "It's okay."

She smiled to herself, looking down. "Right." It went quiet for a moment before she looked up and said, "Do you want to dance?"

I was a little taken aback by her confidence, but nonetheless, I found myself nodding. She smiled as she held out her hand. I took it, feeling goosebumps from how soft her hands were.

She led me to the dance-floor, stopping and resting a hand on my waist, the other holding my hand. I nervously rested an arm on her shoulder as I focused on swaying to the music playing rather than stepping on her toes.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in a while," she said after a moment. I looked up and saw her blue eyes staring right through me.

"Well, we've both been busy," I attempted to give a reason.

She shook her head, smiling apologetically. "No, it's not that... it's my fault. I've been hanging out with James and Winn so much lately that I've been neglecting you."

I laughed a little awkwardly. "Kara, it's okay. You don't need to feel bad for having other friends. I mean, you don't have any obligations to me. They're your best friends. Of course you're gonna hang out with them."

She pursed her lips and I admittedly felt nervous as she stared at me, her expression unreadable. She was a little taller than me which didn't help with me trying to keep my emotions in check. She was extremely close to me as we swayed to the music and I could just about focus on it as she continued to stare at me.

"What if I want to have obligations to you?" she asked, and I almost thought she was joking until I realised that she wasn't.

I wanted to understand what she meant, but I didn't get to ask because she leaned forward and closed the gap between us with her lips. I was surprised at her boldness, pinning Kara for the shy type. Nonetheless, I returned the kiss, melting into her embrace and warmth.

We pulled apart soon enough, myself a little flustered from the kiss. My lips were still tingling as she met my eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I hope that was okay," she muttered.

I nodded slowly, still surprised. "Yeah, it was."

My stomach was doing somersaults as I mirrored her smile; the gala was merely a blur in the background as I realised Kara Danvers had just kissed me. I definitely wouldn't have thought she felt something for me other than friendship.

"I'm assuming you want this to go somewhere," I said, a little stupidly.

She laughed melodiously as she nodded, intertwining her fingers in mine. "That's the plan, yes. But actually, er..."

"Second thoughts already?" I joked, though inside I was genuinely believing she might be second-guessing her decision, judging from her sudden change of facial expression.

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "It's just, I feel like we should talk first. I have to tell you something. Before this goes any further."

She sounded quite affected by whatever it was, so I nodded, losing my smile for a moment.

"Of course, you can tell me whatever you need to," I reassured her, giving her hand a little squeeze. "Do you want to talk now or after?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but tilted her head to the side as she grew distracted. I waited patiently, expecting her to snap back into reality, but she seemed caught up with something else.

"Kara? You okay?" I asked, growing a little concerned.

"What? Yeah, sorry," she said, shaking her head before meeting my eyes with apologetic ones. "I'm sorry, I have to go for a minute. I just realised I have to check on the desserts for the party."

"Oh, okay." I nodded, giving her a small smile. "You can tell me whatever it is afterwards then?"

She smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I'll be back after, I swear."

I believed her and watched as she let go of my hand, already in a rush to leave. I wondered what was so time-sensitive about desserts, but decided not to question it as I realised the very obvious and surprising fact that Kara liked me.

As she turned to leave, she quickly turned back to me and moved forward, pressing a haste kiss to my cheek. My face heated up as she flashed me a beautiful smile, before moving to leave.

Just danced with the most beautiful girl in the room #CatCoFoundation

I looked up and saw Kara by the door, about to leave, but she stopped when her phone vibrated. After glancing at the screen, she paused and a wide smile graced her lips. Her eyes lifted and she gave me a knowing look before disappearing. I found myself smiling like an idiot the rest of the night.

I guess I should have realised, once again, that Kara never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so caught up in the fact that she returned my feelings that I never remembered to ask her what it was that she wanted to say. Maybe if I'd remembered, things would have ended up a little differently.

–

Kara and I went on some dates, our relationship blossoming naturally. It was the best thing to happen to me at the time – finding someone who I thought truly understood me, and vice versa. We had inside jokes, an 'our song', a favourite restaurant we frequented; we were happy and it was amazing. I was really falling for her. I thought she was perfect. Nothing could change that, I thought. She was everything I wanted.

"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?" Kara asked, tilting her head to look at me.

It was moments like this when I was in awe of her beauty, inside and out. She was comfortable, with her hair tied in a loose ponytail and her face makeup-free. Her glasses were balanced on her nose as she stared at me with an easygoing smile and sparkling eyes. I felt a sudden overwhelming flood of love for her as she waited for me to reply.

"I'm in love with you," I blurted out uncontrollably.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, mouth agape as she realised what I said.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "That was random. And weird. Too soon, right? I freaked you out. I'm sorry."

Kara blinked several times, straightening up as she shook her head. "No, it's not, it's..." I watched her with anticipation, as she found her words. "It's fine. It's... I feel the same way."

It was my turn to be surprised now. I raised my eyebrows, a smile forming on my lips. "You do?"

Kara pursed her lips, eyes flickering up to meet mine. "Yeah."

I breathed out. "I'm really happy to hear that, especially because I thought I freaked you out, but like, I feel like something is bothering you, Kara."

Resting a hand on hers, I squeezed it gently. She offered me a small, troubled smile and I wondered what was occupying her thoughts.

"I trust you," she said gently. "I do. I love you. And I... I want you to know that I think what we have is amazing. I've never been happier."

"This sounds like a breakup," I joked, chuckling nervously. She wouldn't break up with me right after saying 'I love you', right?

"No, no, it's not!" she reassured immediately, taking any doubt from my mind. She leaned forward and cupped my cheek gently. "I'm not breaking up with you, silly."

"Good to know," I said playfully, resting my hand on hers and moving it to my lips, kissing it softly. "What is it though? What's on your mind? You can tell me anything you know."

She nodded. "I know... I can. I will. Now."

I stayed quiet, watching as she had some inner conflict going on. What was bothering her so much?

"I want to say that I–"

But she was cut off by her phone ringing. She rolled her eyes and I offered her an approving smile as she reached to answer it.

"Alex, hey, what's up?"

I sat back, keeping ahold of Kara's hand as she listened to Alex on the phone.

"Are you sure?" Kara said, concern in her voice.

I wondered what was going on, as the blonde was scrunching her brows together with worry. Her hand slipped from mine as she stood up, pacing.

"Okay, I'll be there now," she finished, before hanging up.

"Hey, that sounded serious, is everything okay?" I asked, standing up, too.

Kara nodded, already in the process of grabbing her things. "Yeah, sorry, it's just some family stuff with Alex. I should get going and help her out." She stopped moving and turned to face me, a distracted frown on her face. "I'm sorry. I know we were supposed to spend the evening together and I wanted to tell you something, but–"

"It's fine, Kara, you can just tell me another time," I cut her off, moving forward and rubbing her arm gently. "I hope everything is okay with Alex. I'll just see you at work tomorrow, yeah?"

Kara smiled tightly, nodding. "You're too understanding. It's annoyingly admirable."

I chuckled, stepping forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She had a few inches on me, so I had to step on my tip toes to reach, but seeing the little smile appear on her lips when I did made it worth it.

"Don't get stressed about whatever it is you wanna tell me," I added, meeting her eyes. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I love you and I'm really lucky to have you in my life. I don't think anything will ruin that. Just... remember that, okay?"

Kara nodded, her eyes flickering to the floor. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I'll leave you to it," I said, moving away to grab my coat and put on my shoes. "Good luck with whatever is up, and see you tomorrow."

As I was about to leave, her voice called out, "I love you, too."

I smiled widely at her before leaving, feeling lightweight because of all the love that was bubbling around inside of me. Once again, Kara managed to distract me from the fact that she had something big to tell me, as when I followed up the next day, she assured me that she just wanted me to know that she sometimes moved too fast in relationships and she didn't want me to feel like I was being rushed.

I believed her, blinded by what I thought was my happy ending, and that was that.

#kara danvers x you #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers imagine #supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl x reader #melissa benoist

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