#which makes you think maybe it’s bc he’s wanted or something or it’s dangerous around here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

withonly-sweetheart · 30 days ago

Text

Fortune's Cookies

They aren't very sweet, especially when you're fooled into taking the first bite.

a/n: gosh there's literally so much rookie leon art going around and the fever got to me, hope you like my twist on this classic trope! honestly everyone listed below contributed to this with their rookie leon pieces, seriously i stared at them while writing it helps seriously.

@chesue00 - you KNOW it.

@faintfill - MY SOURCE OF ROOKIE LEON SKETCHES NO KIDDING

@uhlillie - i hope you know which one im talking about girl... DAMN

@bunnivievve - FOODDDDDDD just like i said rookie leon is served

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: cavity fluff i hope i needed to brush my teeth after writing this (probably because of all the panda express fortune cookies i ate while typing), angst bc duh and i think thats it?

wc: 7k

“Your voice will bring a smile today.”

That’s what greets you, printed in those horrible skinny red letters, paper curled in your fingers. The styrofoam boxes are dotted with grains of undercooked rice and steamed vegetables, a treat you knew you deserved after such a long day.

And this is what fate tells you. Good thing you’ve never believed in superstition. You crumple the paper and toss it onto the tray and scoff.

Like you’ll take advice from a cookie.

But as the number of people in the store starts to dwindle, and the night shift employees trudge in through the back door, you wind up with your eyes glued to the message, wondering what kind of voice it referred to.

It’s been a long time since your voice has brought anyone joy, hasn’t it? Your job mostly consists of reminding multiple colleagues of their deadlines, only to be promptly ignored. Your existence only comes back to their minds two minutes before their reports are due, when they forward a hastily written piece that you don’t bother to read.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A hand waves dangerously close to your face, brushing your nose, and the contact is enough to startle you back, glaring up at the offender. Even with the harsh swinging lights stinging your eyes, you can see warm blue eyes and sunny hair.

It feels as if the sky has descended to meet you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter back in response, clearing your throat, waving your tied words away. “All good here.”

He shifts away from you, maybe mistaking your inward gesture as shooing him away. You think of saying something about him, about assuring him, but you wonder why you feel that way. "Oh. I, uh, saw you seemed distracted. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

You wince, acutely aware of your frazzled appearance after the long shift. "Thank you, but I'm fine. Just tired is all."

“That’s not good,” he notes with a small frown, leaning back to press his heels to the ground. “Did you eat well?”

“Do you fuss over all strangers?” you muse.

“Oh, well, uhm, I see you a lot here, not that I’m watching you, just that I noticed that you’re here, a lot, so I thought you must like food-”

“You talk a lot.” You raise an eyebrow, trying to cut off his flustered stammering with your motion.

“That came out a lot worse than I’d imagined in my head,” he admits with a slight dip of his shoulders. “Sorry about that, I got nervous. I don't talk to many people… or, uh, women... so I tend to be a bit of a dumbass.”

Surprisingly, as shitty as you feel, a small smile graces the corner of your mouth.

“You’re honest, aren’t you?”

“According to a lot of people… yeah.”

“I don’t think I caught your name earlier,” you say, eyes scanning his vivid outfit for a nametag. There, pinned to his apron like a defining feature of his. “Leon?”

“That’s me,” he replies proudly. “And I already know yours!”

“Sorry?”

“Your… name?” Leon puckers his bottom lip, as if scarring it with his teeth will take back the words hanging between you. “Sorry… like I said, I’ve seen you here a lot.”

And he smiles shyly.

You’re flushed the whole way home, thinking of that sweet little smile, the way his eyes crinkled, his fresh linen scent, how you forgot how to breathe.

And your carefully built world topples over.

<><><><>

You never expected to look forward to the little messages in your fortune cookies, but you blame it on the fact you know Leon’s handing them to you, standing behind the counter in that cute little outfit. Even if he has no idea what’s in them, you can gaslight yourself into thinking he deliberately picks the ones complimenting your smile, or telling you how pretty your eyes look.

Of course, he can tell you that all himself. You sit shoulder to shoulder with him on the stools that you think are meant to be mocking bar stools, but they have barely any space between them, so you’re crammed together.

You wait for him to move away, to tell you to put some distance between you two, but nothing comes. You watch his profile, that handsome face eat cheap noodles when he really deserves so much better.

The lights dim as the last employee clocks out. It’s gotten so late that the crickets demand entrance, chirping their redundant sound, silencing as you walk past the slouching grass like plant that tickles your bare ankles as you walk back to your respective cars.

“Well,” he says, twisting the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, like he hasn’t been talking to you for the last two weeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, nodding. The grin that eats up his face is so infectious you can’t help but smile back.

The same smile drops from your face when you check your Uber texts, a system you’ve repeated so much over the last few months that it feels like second nature, but not very natural when you see that your driver had to back out of the deal at the last minute, suspiciously also taking your money with them, leaving you broke and without a ride.

You stare at the small blue rectangle gripped in your fingers, heat rising to your face, realizing how stupid you must seem to the guy who must be pulling away right at this moment, and will he ever want to hang out with you again-

“Something wrong?” You hear his voice before you hear the knocks on his car roof, and he’s so tall that even at this distance you have to crane your neck to glower at him, and a lopsided smile overtakes his face.

“This isn’t fair,” you insist after explaining your situation, and the only response he gives is a slight shake of his head, as if exasperated. “I already paid all the money!”

“Crap, then something’s wrong,” he mumbles. “Do you usually always use all your money on the trip here?”

You falter. “Not usually.”

He arches a golden brow, a gate to your forthcoming confession. “Then…?”

“Well, I come out here to see you,” you admit quietly. “And then I go home.”

“Exactly how far away do you live?” His voice is smooth, but his expression reminds you of those times when your mother caught you doing something you shouldn’t be, doing something that shows how much you need that validation to survive.

“Not that far,” you assure, nodding your head, but you fail to convince the both of you.

“Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly, softly, as if the night might intrude on your conversation.

“That would be nice,” you reply in a hushed whisper, as if further backing up the idea that the moon is listening, lighting up your words, shining on his hair as you both clamber into his car.

He apologizes for the mess in his spotless car, and you assume it’s just a courtesy, but he goes on and on about how he needs to get his life together. You don’t pay attention to the words that come out of his mouth, just his mouth in general. The amount of times you’ve done this slips from your mind, just another irrelevant number in your life.

If his life is a mess, your life must be a heap of shit.

Your address tumbles past strangely parched lips, well, at least it did, a while ago. But the ride was far too short, and he pulls up in your driveway, a bewildered expression on his face, as if he can’t believe this is where you live; a humble, simple abode, just like all your neighbors.

“So, this is goodbye, then?”

“Not forever, I hope,” he whispers, voice breathy.

“Uh, okay then? But let’s meet somewhere that isn’t your place of work?”

You were joking when you said it, but it seems he doesn’t pick up on it. His eyes are dreamy and thoughtful on his drive back, and by the time he gets home, he has a plan.

He’s going to stun you.

<><><><>

“Well?”

Leon’s gone out of his way to please you. Everything you’ve said during your time together, those vague comments about your favorite type of cheese, your opinions on the amazingly random topics you’re always switching between, it’s all right there.

You hope it's a physical display of his love.

His heart is spread bare, on the checkered, classic pattern of red and white, starkly contrasting with the blades of grass that bear your combined weight, not one, but two, so closely conjoined that you feel more at ease than you have in years.

You share a smile as you indulge in the simple yet delightful cucumber sandwiches, savoring each bite as you bask in each other's company. In the far distance, birds chirp, serenading you both, as if a soundtrack to these moments that seem to tick by faster than they should.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a softness in his gaze that speaks volumes. Time slows, encapsulating you both, a delicious freedom licking up your spine.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” you remark, wiping your face with a napkin, feeling content as you lean back, lying your head on your palms.

He mirrors your action, although his head twists to meet you, eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant if I didn’t know a few things, right?”

“Guess so.” You shrug and the afternoon wears on, the park imaginative and alive with the children that race around the playground, darting like minnows through the swings and slides.

If you had met Leon in your childhood, would things have been different? Would you still be where you are today, arms brushing, only held apart by the barrier of remains scattered between you both, a battlefield of scarred napkins and damaged plastic utensils, a war fought to keep you separate.

He is caring and decisive and rational, the most reliable person you know, and you faintly register it’s been half a year, and you haven’t progressed any further with each other. The battle has come to a standstill, and neither side dares to make a move.

You think that half the problem lies not with you, but with Leon, and what he does with all his free time. He’s not the type to laze around; you think you know him well enough to make that assumption, but you aren’t sure anymore.

Cue example one: the mysterious phone calls that have begun to grow in frequency, the ones that always sour Leon’s mood, leave him sullen and unfriendly to talk to. Eventually, you grow tired of his monosyllabic answers, and make your absence known, still wondering what goes on in his life.

With a furrowed brow, he glances at the caller ID, his expression tightening with concern. You watch as his once-relaxed posture stiffens with some unseen burden. With a sigh, he excuses himself to take the call, leaving you momentarily alone with your thoughts.

You can sense the tension tinging the area, Leon’s clenched jaw betraying the stress he tries to conceal as he stalks back to you, shoving his phone into his pocket, evidently agitated.

“You don’t need a ride home, do you?” His voice contrasts his request; he obviously isn’t in the mood to drive you home.

“I’ll get a cab.” You shake your head, not wanting to be the instrument he releases all that pent up anger on.

He casts a shadow over you, standing tall and easy, in the dying sun he looks like a dying angel, his eyes soft and sad, skin begging to be touched. And while you want nothing more than to reach out and caress his cheek, tell him it’ll be okay, kiss his troubles away, you don’t know what you are right now.

Friends? Would a friend do that? So you offer him a supportive smile, trying not to seem deliberate, and amidst the fading light of the park and the cooling breeze that accompanies you back to your divided lives, you already regret it, watching Leon speed off, just a distant thought in your memory.

You should trust your gut more often.

<><><><>

As the car glides through the shadowy city streets, you catch sight of the new monument in the distance, the one Leon must’ve told you about. Surprising yourself, you decide to take a spontaneous detour. You tap your driver on the shoulder, and she smiles encouragingly. For the most part, the drive was silent, but you don’t mind her soft voice explaining the history behind why they decided to construct it in the first place.

She pulls around the corner, approaching the area near the monument, but the statue quickly is pushed to the back of your mind. It’s the flashing police lights and a sense of urgency in the air that catches your attention. A crime scene tape cordons off the area, and officers are stopping all vehicles passing through.

A stern-faced cop approaches your cab and instructs you both to step out. The driver uneasily abandons her car where it’s parked, then weaves through the forming crowd effortlessly, as if she’s gotten used to the downtown mobs of people.

You, however, barely come to this side of the town, where the city lights are always attacking your eyes that are comfortable with the soft sunset across the farm, where the people are always knocking against each other like clumsy goats, everyone bustling with a purpose.

As you also try your best to push your way through the throng, a knot forms in your stomach at the sight that greets you in the center of the commotion. The blood reaches up to where your footsteps falter, where everyone steps back to avoid staining their footwear.

Splatters of crimson paint a macabre picture that sends a shiver down your spine. The wail of sirens pierces the night, flaring lights casting an eerie glow that dances like amethyst flames, illuminating the limp body that uniformed figures crouch near.

And one of those figures, someone you’d never expect at the grim scene of a murder, is Leon, his unfamiliar stony expression cast in a stark light against the backdrop of chaos.

You draw closer, questions threatening to unravel the fabric of your reality, steeling yourself for the confrontation, because you thought you were close to him, a person he could trust. Was that such a silly thought? To think that you might have had something?

Apparently it was.

“Leon?” you demand, pressing yourself into the caution tape, warning bells ringing in your mind at the neon yellow bending to your will against your stomach.

“What?” He glances up and around, scanning the entire world until his eyes land on yours, going wide slightly, and his position stumbles, as if his legs give way.

“Get up, rookie,” another cop barks. “Focus! And you, stop distracting him!” Someone bats at your face, but you just sidestep the blow and storm closer, in the tension of the moment.

If you had just a speck of your sense at the time, you might’ve forced yourself to step away, to take a few calming deep breaths, but seeing his face dappled in such an unnatural light, to see his warmth be taken away to something that’s real, something like a life gone.

You always saw him as your solace, away from your life, something that was unreal, just for you. You forget to see him as a being of his own, with feelings of his own. And sadly, you don’t know the difference between impulsive and intrusive.

You’re surprised when Leon rises to meet your eyes, albeit it only lasts for a moment until he’s towering over you again, and there’s a sense of authority there that wasn’t there before, eyes strict and narrowed.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he says, in such a final tone it doesn’t occur to you that you could argue back. But his voice, a splinter of your Leon, the one you know, slips through. “I promise.”

So you stand back, near the patrol cars, their wails ratting your skull, but you grit your teeth and force yourself through it, eyes directed on Leon. It’s a while before the crowd clears, presumably because the idea of a murder is enticing until they see how long it truly takes, as compared to television.

But you stand there, leaning against the side of the car that you know is Leon’s, recognizing it as the one that you’ve rode in so many times, and you wonder why he’s taken a fragment of your time here, to this place outside of your relationship.

Eventually, Leon makes frantic motions to the top of the monument, stretching to the sky before gesturing back to the body, and everyone around him offers a pensive expression and solemn nods before someone calls out something you can’t hear.

The sirens die down immediately, and everyone claps Leon on the back. He flushes and stumbles with them to the cars, and you promptly ignore everyone’s gaze on you as he approaches. But there’s someone with him.

Feline eyes meet yours, an arm draped over his shoulder, competitive expression and this mysterious woman and Leon saunter over to you. She’s dressed in a long, beige trench coat, and her black sunglasses rest low on her nose, perched just right so that she can lift her face to offer you the most cursory of glances before turning away.

And she has the audacity to peck Leon on the cheek before she gives you a smug smile with the side of her face that only you can see before waving goodbye, somehow gracefully, and stalking away to what you assume is a fancy sports car.

“Look, I know you have a lot of questions.” Leon holds up his hands in defense, before grinning, and involuntarily, you feel the corner of your mouth quirk upwards.

“Lot of is an understatement,” you grumble.

“Talk over dinner?” he offers.

“Is this you trying to impress me?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Is it working?”

<><><><>

“Right, and you didn’t think telling me you were a fucking cop was important?” Your spring roll is devastated, its insides spilling everywhere on your plate, bits of cabbage and carrot dotting the cardboard.

“I didn’t think it would change anything between us,” he mumbles. “So what difference would it make?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You push away from the table, and his eyes follow you when you stand up, and his actions seem to come naturally, as an instinct, when he trails you across the empty store.

“You know what it means!” he protests.

“Maybe I don’t, Leon, so maybe you should explain,” you retort. “Explain why you thought it was okay to lead me on like that, all this time, when you have a girlfriend! Which one of us are you really cheating on?”

“What?” Now he looks genuinely confused, and his confusion seems to spark some doubt in your own defense, breaking down your sure walls. “Girlfriend? Cheating?”

His eyes are glazed over with tears, and if he starts crying, you’re not sure what you’ll do. You take a step closer, but now he’s the one to recoil away, shaking his head, wiping his eyes.

Leon inhales sharply. “How could you say something like that? I told you when we met, I’m not… not very good with these kinds of things.”

“But she-”

“Kissed me?” He scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like your mother’s never kissed you goodnight.”

You misread everything. That smug smile was her approval, on those curved lips, those narrowed eyes that were… well, just always narrowed. How could you get something so wrong?

"I... I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "I didn't know... I thought..." Your words falter as you struggle to find the right ones to express the whirlwind of relief, a gust of skittish butterflies pattering against the walls of your stomach, trying to find release.

"I should have been honest from the start," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. "My job… it can hurt people. You saw. I want to keep you safe."

“You’re not mad?” you ask quietly.

Leon's eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he responds, "How could I ever be mad at this cute little face?" He playfully puffs your cheeks together, a gesture meant to be endearing.

Before you can fully process his teasing remark, Leon's demeanor shifts once again, his voice lower and more intimate as he adds, "Or... these lips." And with a sudden, decisive move, he leans in and presses a tender kiss against your lips.

And your fragile world topples over.

Again.

<><><><>

Leon never ceases to surprise you, that much you can definitely expect. You shut your computer, ready for your lunch break, when someone calls your name from the lower floor. That much you’ve come to expect, but while you’re gathering your belongings, someone else calls out something else.

“Hey, hurry up! Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting!”

To say you stumbled would be nice. You somehow manage to trip over the arm of the chair, end up with all your papers fluttering to the ground, but you ignore the mess and file it away for later, trying to tame your hair (an impossible feat in three seconds) as you storm down the stairs.

Your heels click on the tiles as you make your descent as graceful as can be, minus that one part where you trip and lurch forward before gripping the hand railing for safety. You see him standing at the entrance, talking to the receptionist guy, a box nestled between his arms.

“Doughnuts?” you ask, staring at the box enticingly, recognizing the bright pink and rainbow sprinkles from your childhood.

“Got some free time,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before opening the box. It seems that you really have everyone’s attention now. “And coupons!”

You toss him a shit eating grin to show your returned affection before immediately curling your fingers around a glazed doughnut. And eventually, once the first person timidly approaches, quietly asking if they could maybe have one, Leon beams.

“I brought enough for everyone!” he proclaims, and he steps to the side to reveal three similar boxes, all presumably stocked with the same doughnuts.

“Looks like you’re an office favorite now, huh?” you tease, nudging him with your elbow. He shifts from your impact and returns the gesture, in the process of doing so smears chocolate frosting on the underside of his nose.

“I’ll always be your favorite officer though, right?” he jokes in response.

You don’t respond, you’re too busy staring at that one smear of cocoa against his skin, and suddenly you’re itching for a napkin, so you twist over your shoulder to grab one.

“Righ-” His echo is muffled by the napkin stuffed into his mouth as you gently dab at the area, squinting your eyes.

“Yeah, of course, totally,” you mumble absentmindedly, satisfied with your efforts. You take the excuse a little further just to stare at his amused expression, the quirk of his brow, the tilt of his eyes softening.

Your colleagues will never let you hear the end of this.

Either way, since he’s on break and he’s on the manager’s good side, bribing her with a few Boston Cream doughnuts, she allows him to hop upstairs with you.

“So, if you’re a cop,” you ask while rubbing hand sanitizer into your palms. “Why’re you working at Panda Express?”

“They lowered the income rate for the citizens of Raccoon City, including the police force,” he grumbles, swinging his legs from where he’s perched on the side of your desk. “Which I think is totally stupid!”

“So you think you shouldn’t have applied at all?” you query further.

“Well, honestly? I’m glad I applied,” he admits, and at your questioning expression, continues, “I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Hooray, taxes,” you say numbly, flipping through the giant stack of papers left on your desk, all jumbled up from your earlier mishap.

“Hooray, taxes, indeed,” he agrees.

“I was being sarcastic.” Leon scoffs, twisting over his shoulder to lean down and meet your lips. When he pulls away, there’s an endearing yet mocking look in his eyes.

“I’m not that stupid.”

<><><><>

Nothing happens that day, you don’t see a black cat anywhere, you don’t walk under any ladders, and if you do walk on cracks, well, you do that every day, so your luck must always be this horrible, right?

You’ve somehow scored this moonlit masterpiece strolling beside you, a being born from the clouds, so maybe you’re not all that unlucky.

Usually, you get a warning when bad things happen. But all you can feel is the jittery, warm feeling that you get when you’re brushing hands with Leon, trying to bring him closer to you. You think he notices, and doesn’t say anything.

You invite yourself into his car, but the first of many problems to come arrives in the form of water that splashes on Leon’s face, just above his eyebrow, and he quickly slides into his seat.

You absently brush the area, admiring his hair, his boyish qualities, and suddenly wonder if he’s always looked this young. Far too innocent for the world.

“It’s nice in here,” you offer.

He sinks back into the seat with a gentle, relaxed smile. "Well, either way, get comfortable. Looks like we’re expecting rain.”

You nod, legs unsteady, and find yourself nestled in leather beside his cologne-scented form. The engine hums to life, and he shifts gears, pulling onto the road as traffic flees.

He glances over, moonlight caressing sculpted cheeks. "What’s wrong?"

“Do you have any water?” He gestures to the water bottle in the cupholder on his left side, on the driver’s door. Your knees knock against each other as you reach over to grasp it, ducking under his outstretched arms, averting your eyes to your right rather than the other direction.

“Can I…?” You gesture to the bottle. “Or should I just like, you know, waterfall, or whatever-”

“We’ve literally exchanged saliva,” he states bluntly. “I don’t think I have a problem with you drinking from my water bottle.”

“Ugh, you weirdo.” But you’re the one drinking like a starved woman, which you suppose that you are, but that of which you’re really dragging your gaze over isn’t the water.

And you suppose, logically, Leon’s 70% water.

Water that evaporates under the heat of your eyes, drifting up to the previously cloudless sky, forming puffs of sorrow that cry back down to you, tears slamming against the windshield. You ponder how he can even see the road through the downpour.

Eventually, after grumbling under his breath, Leon pulls over, gazing into your upturned face with a question in his eyes, older than his years.

“Would you, uhm, mind if we just went to my place? It’s closer anyways, and I don’t want to risk driving any further than I have to in these conditions…”

You smile, and he can see your answer woven in your eyes.

<><><><>

Leon forgot to mention his (adoptive) parents live right next door. So of course, when they’re just out and about casually watching him through the door camera, they might just happen to say a dashing young lady walk out of his car.

And said young lady is unfamiliar to these judging, supreme figures that must decide Leon’s fate for him, because he’s just a boy. Their precious little baby.

So that’s what you assumed happened when Leon’s parents clambered out of their door, calling for you to wait, his mother pulling her cardigan around herself tighter against the chill.

And now here you are, facing two people that, no offense, look nothing like the man seated next to you, fingers entwined, foot tapping out a nervous beat on the wooden floor.

“So, darling, how’s work going?” Another placeholder question for what she really wants to know: how much do you make in a year? Do you have a degree? Did you even finish high school?

You respond with everything they must want to hear, like those questions on the backs of those 2000’s magazines with the answer that’s always right, the one that has the perfect amount of sense in it, the Goldilocks rule.

Goldilocks must have been gobbled up by the bears this night, because every answer seems to deepen the furrow forming between their brows, as if they’re in sync, and you wonder how you can manage to screw up something that should be simple.

Meeting the parents, check. What’s next, falling into the cake at the wedding? You must be planning too far ahead judging by their unimpressed looks.

“Mom,” Leon groans. “Cut it out!”

“I’m just getting to know her, sweetie,” she replies sweetly, voice dripping like molasses, and you can tell there’s a lot more she’s keeping behind her tongue. "Well, dear, do you have any hobbies or interests you're passionate about?"

"Oh, I just love cooking!" you exclaim, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up your face. Maybe you’ve finally found something to impress them with.

Leon's father leans in, his interest piqued. "What kind of dishes do you enjoy cooking?" he asks, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I love trying out new recipes from different cuisines," you reply, your excitement palpable. "Right now I’m learning how to cook Thai cuisine!"

Leon's mother nods, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Cooking is such a beautiful art form," she muses, her face softening. "It's wonderful to see someone so passionate about creating delicious meals. Someone who can share that love with our son."

You wonder if any other girl had waltzed along, marveled at cooking with them, would they have dropped their judging character immediately, just as they had with you?

You suppose it’s a mystery you don’t need to solve.

Besides, you don’t have to worry about facades with Leon.

Of course not.

But you do wonder why he hasn’t touched any of the food.

<><><><>

You sit back, sly fingers curved around the tender flesh of his waist, pressing your head further into the crook of his arm. You watch his chest rise and fall like the arrival and departure of the sun, bringing you warmth under the blanket that restricts your movements, tucked in around you like a burrito.

He must be hot, you realize, he’s sweltering under the blanket, but when you offer to turn on the overhead fan, he shivers like he’s cold at the same time and shakes his head.

In moments of silence, you catch glimpses of a far off-look in his eyes, a horror movie long forgotten, as if his thoughts have wandered to a place you can’t reach. There’s shadows of things he doesn’t say, things you know he wants to say.

“Hey, are you good?” You shift your weight to look up at him, where you might’ve found yourself admiring the curve of his chin, or his dappled skin, but now you only feel concern.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, mouth stretching in a yawn. “My new case is taking a bit longer than I’d hoped.”

“Mhm?” you press gently, wanting to get more clarity on the situation without seeming nosy. His response is delayed, a different, pitiful expression grappling to take hold.

“Oh… the, uhm, pharmaceutical company? Something that has to do with… was it rain?” Leon shakes his head, clicking his tongue in the back of his throat. “You know what? Forget it. Tonight’s our night.”

He says ‘our’, but he pays you little to no attention for the next three hours.

Your first thought is that you're boring him. Have you already become so insufferable that he doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore? You had expected it, of course, you’re not a very animated person, but he loved you, didn't he?

Leon’s gone quiet, silent, like he’s back in that box in his mind you can never seem to pierce. The light that used to dance in his eyes now flickers dimly, like a fading ember struggling to hold onto its warmth.

He carries himself with the same grace and poise, like a practiced act to a play you weren’t a part of, and you can’t push it away anymore. But of course, as all things in your life seem to follow, when you finally find yourself gaining the courage to confront him, he's gone.

<><><><>

Missing. And no one knows where he is. And some part of you blames yourself, you obviously must've scared him away.

“You know what’s wrong!” You bite your tongue to keep you from raising your volume, not so much fearing the fish beneath you but the woman leaning against the shipping containers, scrutinizing slender nails with feigned boredom.

If Leon trusts her, she should hear your first plea. She knows him better than you do, much to your dismay, but it could work out in your favor currently.

Her expression remains stony.

"Please," you beg, and a sliver of emotion slips through that mask- confusion? "Help me save Leon. I know you care for him, even if you can't show it."

Her crimson lips quirk. "I have… undisclosed reasons for ensuring his well-being. But my work takes precedence, and I can’t disclose anything to you."

You glare through lingering tears. "No deals, no games. You tell me where he's investigating right now."

A long pause, then she sighs. "Very well. It seems you really won't leave me alone, hm?" She grins coldly. "Shall we play the heroes, just this once?"

Playing the heroes is harder than it turns out to be, it seems.

"Evening, boys. My associate and I have a… delivery." The guards blink, stupefied, then waves you through with dopey grins, mostly directed at her. Ada smirks. "Pathetic."

A floorplan materializes in her hand, every room and hallway illuminated with ghastly blue precision. "Samples are held in labs B5 through 7. Avoid guards, cameras. And try not to set anything off - we're on a tight schedule."

You dart through shadows, cautiously approaching the correct hall. Surprisingly, nothing contradicts your journey, as if the whole building’s been abandoned. Guess it’s your lucky day.

You're wondering just how lucky you really are when you turn to usher Ada ahead, only to freeze as you turn the corner, and there, just a few feet away, he sits.

So calmly, so pristine, as if life was just as simple as sitting on the floor, in the middle of a hallway, in a building where you don't belong, after ghosting everyone who knows you for two days.

And yet there's something different. Haggard eyes stare from a chalk-white face, lips twisted in a feral snarl. That face, once so stunning you had to think about his existence, now only conveys hatred.

"L-Leon?" you breathe. But those eyes betray no recognition, only hunger. As your stare, transfixed by fright and grief, a click sounds behind you.

"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here." Ada glares down the barrel she points to Leon's head, somehow still perfectly composed. You want to rip off her head. "Now, are we all going to play nice?"

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Leon's eyes flicker, awareness filtering into his eyes by slow degrees, and he stands up at half that speed, as if time is against him.

But then he jolts back, as if something's clicked, and suddenly he's back with you, standing in front of you, gasping for breath and clutching you tightly.

You wait for a moment, not quite sure if you're imagining things or not, before a dry, unamused chuckle rips from your throat and slowly morphs into the laugh you're used to sharing with him.

Leon leans closer to you, resting your forehead against his, cupping your face as he stares down at you, recognition so evident in those open eyes. “How'd you find me?”

“Well, it's not like the department was going to notice,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. Ada scoffs in reply, but her head tilts to the side.

“And your endearing girlfriend here wouldn't let me get away that easily.”

You suppose her tone is light enough that you can let it pass as a joke, and at the moment you're so overwhelmed with relief that you aren't too worried about her idea of you either way.

“Seeing you… gosh,” he groans, pressing a palm to his temple, hissing. “I can barely think straight!”

“I know, baby, I know,” you coo comfortingly, keeping your voice soft so as to not alert any guards that might've pulled up around the area.

“No, I can't…” His eyes go fazed again, blank, emotionless, and once again he's slipped through your grasp like grains of sand on a beach, only there is nothing tranquil about this situation.

“Leon, listen to me. You’re going to be just fine,” you affirm, nodding your head, hoping he'll copy your motion.

He doesn't. "I...I can feel it," he gasps. Beads of sweat run tracks through the grim on his face. "It's… stronger than me..."

You grip his hand tight, ignoring the growing feverheat. "No, Leon, you can beat this. You always do." But even you can hear the desperation in your voice.

And you wait for Ada to chime in with some classic, yet somehow sassy third-wheel dialogue, but it never comes. In fact, she's vanished into the shadows, presumably already so far away you can't hear the click of her heels on the sterile floors.

Leon groans, and your attention snaps back to him, face contorting. "Go," he grits out. "Drive… and don't look back."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you proclaim, and his eyes soften in confusion as you sling his arms around your shoulder.

You're sure half the population must've heard your racket at this point, but it seems something else has gotten the security's attention.

As long as it's not you, you don't mind. Leon’s lower lip wavers, unshed tears sparkling in his eyes, and you want to peck everything that hurts until he's okay. But you can't be sure of anything until you're both safe.

The first responders always seem to pick up the prank calls from the teenagers that don't need their help, but it seems like hours go by the more Leon's blood coats your fingers, and inevitably, your phone screen.

He's stopped responding to your questions, and you fight to keep just a fragment of his conscience there with you, but his eyes, the vivid blue gone dull, meet yours and offer no further response.

When the ambulance finally arrives, they leave you outside the gates, denying you entry, with those ruby dusted hands and diamond streaked face.

You suppose you've always wanted to be the jewel in the night that races to the hospital to see their lover. And now that just seems silly.

<><><><>

Three weeks.

That's all the time he'll have with you. And even then, he's not truly there. He struggles to formulate his own thoughts, and now, whenever you see him, all you can think of is who he used to be.

As for Ada, you haven't seen her since. She hasn't snitched on you, so you suppose that it wouldn't hurt anyone to keep the events of that day between the three of you.

Two of you, now.

He isn't a person anymore. He isn't your Leon. But that's hard to remember when you've never been good at seeing what's beneath the surface, the dense, complex layers that create a person.

You see his soft, peaceful face that is like second nature to you, and you wonder if he'll respond to you today, even after hours of repeating the same truth that you know somewhere, deep down, you’ll never believe. The doctor's left the room already, decreeing two hours of treatment should do something for him, save him, much like removing a tumor.

“I went to our place, picked up some lunch for us,” you murmur, knowing he can't hear you. “You weren’t standing at the counter like always, and I almost lost it. Again.”

You can imagine him, if he was really here, chuckling, shaking his head at your questionable behavior. Not just a shell, a half of a person, but a whole that somehow also completed you.

See, this is why you failed math. Are you half a person without him, or whole?

“I got us a fortune cookie!” you say, trying to keep your voice upbeat, as if your positive energy could transfer to him, in a magical, mystical manner, and he'd come back to you.

“Let's read it, yeah?” No point in waiting for a response when you know it'll never come.

Thin, pale letters. How odd, they resemble Leon's strangely flushed face.

“Today, your voice will bring a smile.” You suppress one of those and instead roll your eyes. “Your friends can’t think of new content, can they?”

You stuff the paper into your handbag, slung over the plastic chair near his bed. You've blocked out the rest of the world, now is time for just you two, however far away he may seem. Which is why you scowl up at the doctor, slightly confused at her sympathetic look, and then your ears ring and you shift back to reality. The reality of the situation.

The reality of the flatline.

The reality that, no matter how much you thrash in the security guard's arms, Leon's not coming back. He’s gone.

In a way, he's been gone for longer than you've chosen to accept. Maybe it would've been easier to let him go sooner. You're marched straight out of the hospital, a beeline for the exit, and you have little time to shout your goodbyes.

But you've grown used to taking advice from cookies. After all, they've gotten you to this point. The sarcasm you had so long ago seems silly to you, now, the fact that a biscuit could decide your fate.

To Leon?

Your voice keeps him smiling all the way up to the clouds.

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 8 months ago

Note

Hey dude. It's me - anon with that SAGAU!kid!reader idea. Well, I was thinking about Liyue or Sumeru men (I'm that kind of person, that's into guys LOL). If there is a relationship, then only platonic one (or maybe father-child in Zhongli's case).

So I will try to go with Zhongli, Baizhu, Alhaitham and Cyno (probably Gaming, cuz he's like a son to me) That's it for now Hope I didn't ask for much tho 😅

CONNECTED TO THIS IDEA!

Aye aye, Anon! God!Child! Reader Platonic Meets Ups It is!

Also plz note that I might not be able to list every Sumeru/Liyue man there is in Genshin bc Im doing this at the top of my head—

Sumeru And Liyuen Men (And Gaming) With The God Child.

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Cyno

The General Mahamatra may not exactly be well-versed when it comes to comforting words (except his puns—and even then, many people would say otherwise), but Cyno is a sincere man. You can trust that he will stick to his word.

And he does, when he promised to look after the Almighty Creator who is a child (not unlike Nahida, but they certainly have more of a mindset of a child—). But was he expecting your chaotic behavior (explosives Klee Style)? Yeah...No.

Bro nearly thought you were held at gunpoint or tricked/manipulated into doing it until he realized you did on your own.

"...Your Grace...Please don't blow up the store again." So instead of protecting you from harm by others, Cyno is more focused on protecting others from harm by you. As much as he doesn't like to think of it that way, you were a lot more dangerous than any eremite or sand monster there was out there.

At least he's still doing his job, being the General Mahamatra! You gift him a flower crown, and he has to take it or else. :)

Tighnari

Since he works with many young forest rangers, and tutors Collei, Tighnari is probably used to dealing with children. Dealing with the Almighty Creator certainly wasn't going to be an issue under this Forest Watcher's eyes.

That was...until you blew up a rishboland tiger. By yourself. On your own. Without getting hurt.

He was not the only freaking out, mind you. Collei was losing it, and Tighnari? He's internally screaming and getting metaphorical heart attacks.

"Your Grace, what were you thinking, running off like that? I know you're strong and you want to protect everyone, but you can really hurt the environment and—" He tries his best to hold back his sassiness while he scolds you, considering some children are much more emotional than others.

He sets up some basic rules for you to follow to make sure that you respect the Avidya Rainforest grounds, but also protect yourself from any form of harm.

Bro becomes a helicopter parent while you're under his care. Have fun, and I hope you enjoy mushrooms. Collei will cook you something else if you don't like what Tighnari cooks, though. :)

Kaveh

This man. He will BUILD you toys. He will DRAW you stories. He may even tell you stories himself.

Mehrak is your best friend when you're around Kaveh. And that man tries his best to make sure your time with him is good. He also refrains from drinking, which is nice! He's improving a little! :D

Absolutely gets worried if you run off without him knowing or if you're hiding from him for too long while playing hide and seek. He goes into an utter MELTDOWN.

And if you blow something up? Boy, if you thought Tighnari getting metaphorical heart attacks was bad, think again—Kaveh might actually get a heart attack.

"Your Grace! What—What were you thinking? Where were you? What did you do? Why did I hear an explosion?!" He's trying to keep himself as calm as possible, but Kaveh is an emotional man. He's kind of failing—

Luckily, with your go-lucky attitude, you pull Kaveh around and take his mind off of work and your explosions! Win-win! :D

Al-haitham

The moment Nahida assigned him the task of taking care of the Almighty Creator, who is a child, bro is planning his things carefully. He is safe-keeping his books, he's renovating Kaveh's bedroom (bc yes), he's buying a few colouring books and crayons.

What he caught him by surprise was not how trusting you were to new strangers you barely knew. It was how you had fun with explosions and exploding everything in your path.

You can imagine as you're being carried away by the Scribe, he's giving you a one-sentence scolding.

"Your Grace, don't ever do that again, it's not nice." He would go into further detail, but he's sure you wouldn't care all that much about data and analysis and stuff like that, so he just ends it as it is.

You're still gonna do it, there's no doubt. It's just now Al-haitham is preparing for your next incoming attack as well.

Zhongli

Grandpa gramps is here woohoo! He's probably the most calmest out of everyone on this request list LOL. You can imagine he's following you calmly, apologizing and paying (through Childe's money cough) for the damages you caused.

Believe it or not, but it was Hu Tao who found you first and decided to take you to Mr. Zhongli for babysitting. He contemplates how the Director found you and brought you back.

The first time you explode something, he is definitely surprised. And concerned of the people who got hurt. You can't fault him for being worried for the mortals that were involved—Liyue Harbor is basically his child. Bro's been governing it for thousands of years.

"Your Grace, Little One, let's try not to put strain in the efforts of an adult's day-to-day life." He scolds you, and will definitely be more keen on your whereabouts, but he does this in a gentle tone. At the very least, you give him something to do that doesn't require him to present himself as the supposedly "deceased" Geo Archon.

Baizhu

With the guy's health issues...it's hard to say if he'll be able to keep up with you and your constant outings all around Liyue Harbor. Changsheng is definitely worried about Baizhu's stress levels as he has to figure out what you did this time and make sure no one was harmed.

He constantly has to ask Qiqi to go find you since he literally cannot keep up with your speed, lest he actually faints or something. You were that quick.

Luckily, if he hears of your whereabouts, he will definitely arrive just in time to apologize and give free check-ups to everyone involved in your explosion party.

"Now, Your Grace, please refrain from hurting others. It's not good to hurt someone's health." You can certainly expect Baizhu to give you a scolding—as well as a basic understanding of medical care in case either you or someone else will need it, and he can't make it there in time.

Like Kaeya (And Tighnari in this post), Baizhu will definitely write you some rules in a notebook and makes you recite them at least twice a day so that you remember not to hurt other people or damage your own health.

He is a doctor for a reason. It's his job to look out for others—even chaotic children with explosives.

Gaming

HAVE NO FEAR, GAMING IS HERE!

Bro is basically your Big Brother who does cool dances and gives you snacks and protects you. Since he's a real foody, you'll definitely know which places are the best to buy snacks!

You find his Wushou Dancing cool as well. He takes pride in it tbh. I mean, who wouldn't be ecstatic if the Almighty Creator loves it?

He does get a bit panic-y when he sees you blow things up, though. As much as he wants to pursue Wushou Dancing as his daily career, he still needs his job as a Shipment Guard.

"Y/N! No! Don't blow that up—!" Yes, he took you out once to travel with the shipment goods for one time, and he's never taken you with him again unless you promise not to blow anything that are near the goods.

He usually leaves you in Liyue Harbor when he's making these Shipment trips, but once he returns, you can certainly count on him to give you some tasty snack or a fulfilling dinner, as well as a free small Wushou Dance.

Big Brother Gaming does not disappoint!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: I AM VERY DEAD. I AM SO SORRY SOBBING. Life hits you hard and fast sometimes sigh. I've been so busy I haven't been posting much—but rest assured, I have quite a lot of posts for you guys very soon!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

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transmascaraa · 5 months ago

Note

may i please request genshin men (lyney, tighnari, cyno, and whoever else you'd like to add) with a jaded and distrustful reader. they're hesitant to entertain the idea of a relationship bc they don't believe it's genuine, the reader is scared they have ulterior motives. they've been hurt before and aren't about to let it happen again. because of this they act kind of standoffish to any advances they make. how would they win over the reader?

multiple characters headcannons!

distrust.

characters: lyney, tighnari, cyno, sethos x gn!reader

author's note: finally doing another req lmfao how are you guys😭 oh yeah and i want to try writing sethos cuz i haven't seen much including him at all or is it just me???? nvm it's worth a try

♡ Lyney

-i think he would just accept it at first

-like "they don't trust me? well shit— i can't do anything about it"

-but lynette didn't want her brother feeling so sad because he'd annoyingly complain to her until they both died

-and she decided to kinda reassure him by saying that even tho the chances of you trusting him are low, doesn't mean that they're gone entirely WHICH MEANS there's still hope

-this makes him feel at least a bit better and that's when he actually starts making an effort

-he practices EXTREME and DANGEROUS magic tricks just to show them to you, not on any magic show for anybody else to see.

-extreme as in basically shoving a huge sword down his mouth, or as in literally throwing arrows in the sky, so that when they fall, they perfectly line out his silhouette, not hurting him in the slightest. because to him, apparently:

-near death experience=trust

-up to you if you trust him but honestly if i was that distrustful reader it wouldn't help lmfao

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✿ Tighnari

-i feel like he wouldn't be super interested in winning you over

-since like you literally don't trust him enough so what's the point

-but just MAYBE he'd try at least something

-he will try to win your trust by reassuring you when you need it, letting you know that you CAN trust him

-and that he's not a jerk or coward that would have ulterior motives

-so instead he doesn't rush you and lets you do what you wish

-even if you end up telling him to plainly 'fuck off' in the end, he'd be a little disappointed in himself but also he'd just accept it

-he won't force you into anything

-so in the end it'll all be up to you

-cuz he will do his best to show you that he won't hurt you in any way, and that he's loyal and trustworthy enough

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

๑ Cyno

-happy 1day late bday to him he's literally my 2nd/3rd fave

-i think when you explain to him that you fear getting into a relationship at all for whatever reasons, he says he understands but will definitely subtly try to win you over

-telling you random jokes every day hoping that it would maybe help in earning your trust

-subtly showing you he has no evil plan by being there for you when you need it

-he'll ask tighnari for advice, and the advice he will get is "how am i supposed to know? appear more trustworthy i guess? make better jokes?" to which cyno will listen but that's already what he's trying to do on his own

-he'll ask to spar with you, trying to earn your trust in yet another way

-he feels reborn when you even slightly smile at his jokes btw so yeah

-soon enough, you catch on that he's trying to make you trust him.

-and after that, in the end, everything's up to you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✯ Sethos

-is it just me but i love him sm i swear

-he will be persistent.

-understanding but persistent.

-not as subtle as cyno, but he will do it less often than cyno just because of the subtleness in the whole thing

-he'll definitely invite you on a walk with him throughout the desert like a few times a month

-loves it when you say 'yes'

-he will joke around with you, and make inside jokes with you, hoping that it means something to you

-maybe he'd ask you to spar together but would lose himself if you actually agreed(in a positive way ofc lmao)

-he's hoping so fucking much that he's presenting himself as loyal as possible to you

-if you don't want him in the end, that's completely fine with him

-but if you accept he'll look pretty much chill and happy with it but his brain and heart will be a mess lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

was sethos ooc???? idk

do i care?? yes (a lot, in fact)

either way i'm alright with how i wrote this

| @mariaace <3

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months ago

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hi. so this is kind of a random musing that doesn't have anything to do with what youve been talking abt on your blog recently so feel free to ignore it, but i love how you write yandere nanami and between going live and an ask one of my followers sent me i kinda had a revelation. i wanted to see if you had any thoughts.

i think that before meeting reader nanami would be a virgin.

even if were talking non yandere nanami, i don't think he's ever had sex. i can't see nanami being the kind of person who likes hookup culture - he doesn't want to be used by someone - but i don't think he'd be able to justify getting in a romantic relationship because his job is so dangerous. he wouldn't want to die one day and leave his partner widowed. so he stays celibate, he's come to terms with the fact that he'll die untouched.

(he just jerks himself to freaky ass porn to get his fix (maybe even a camgirl hehe))

at least, until he meets a woman who makes all of his morality fly out the window.

suddenly, his sex drive is higher then ever. he's cumming into his fist every night to the thought of this special girl doing abhorrent things on his dick. he loves her. he's never loved someone this much in his entire life so she has to be the one to deflower him. that's probably one of the most romantic things someone can do in his mind, so it has to be her. she's his soulmate

all of this to say, i think nanami would kidnap reader and force her to teach him how to have sex through some fucked up means. it just tickles something in me imagining how stupidly giddy he'd be, so unabashedly pathetic as he undresses a woman for the first time.

like, him holding her hand with his forehead pressed to hers, cumming inside of her, jumping through as many mental hurdles necessary to justify what he's doing (or maybe just not caring bc she'll come around eventually, right?)

i love your work. thank you for listening to my ramble. <3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, manipulation, delusional behavior.

no no no i agree entirely,,, no amount of propaganda can convince me that any of the jjk men every had their dicks touched before the age of twenty-five at least, with nanami probably being the worst offender among them. i mean, he doesn't really connect with people outside of the sorcerer world, not really, not in a meaningful enough way to lead to that kind of intimacy, and as for other sorcerers... no. just no. he'd rather die a virgin than resort to anything as desperate as that, which is quickly becoming a very tangible reality.

and then he meets you (or, alternative, stumbled onto your stream at some ungodly hour, his cock already in his hand and his pleasure-deprived brain frantic for something soft and pliable to latch onto), and he decides that it might not be so bad to consider alternatives after all.

i can see it going one of two ways: if he has any reason at all to believe that you're also a virgin, whether or not it's true, he'll immediately lose all patience. if that wasn't the case, he might be able to take his time, stalk you for a few months before consummating your blooming relationship, but now he's on a clock, now he has to get to you before someone else does. he still tries to make it romantic, lights candles and brings you flowers and all that, but he's rushed, panicked, babbling incoherently about 'being each other's firsts' as he haphazardly undresses you. it's a miracle he remembers to do any prep at all - he's just in such a rush to be inside of you, to be the first and only person to every know what it's like to fully, genuinely actually be with you. if there's any pain, he'll comfort you later, make up for two and a half decades of abstinence with his tongue and hands, but only after he's already ruined you for anyone else.

if you're not a virgin and he can't make himself believe you are, then he'd probably go a little less absolutely feral (at first, i mean). don't get me wrong, you're still getting kidnapped asap, but rather than a beacon of innocence and purity that he can taint, you're the corruption forcing him to fall from grace, and he's going to want you to act like it. he's got a list of virginities he needs to to take (his first handjob, his fist blowjob, the first hickey, etc.), and between every milestone, he's going to want you to teach him how to pleasure you, even if you're still insisting you'd rather not let him touch you at all. he wants your full participation - it doesn't matter how many times he makes you cum on his tongue while you're sobbing into your pillow and trying to block him out, he's not going to stop until he hears your sweet voice encouraging with the little 'right there, kento's and 'good boy's he's made you rehearse. by the time you actually take his virginity, he's going to have made you feel dirtier than you ever could've made him feel, but so long as he's the one you're feeling dirty with, nanami doesn't really mind. not when he's buried inside you, his chest pressed into yours and he's too lost in his own pleasure to think the tears staining your cheeks are anything but beautiful.

anyway loser virgin nanami you will live forever. perhaps loser virgin gojo will pay for his crimes next.

#also it should go without saying that i love your work too <3 #been ruminating on the death god vs life god fic today in particular #keep up the good work i want to see those men committing atrocities at record highs #yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere nanami #nanami x reader #personal #eevwrites

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icarryitin · 5 months ago

Text

Cross the Line

spencer reid/gn afab!reader

reader is still more or less a blank slate but i wrote this w my fellow thick girlies in mind, love you🧡 have fun defiling a sofa you whores🫡

(this is NOT a part of Can You…? but there is a new part coming next week so !!!)

masterlist

word count: 4.3k // warnings: 18+ pls this is straight up porn, afab reader bc work with what you’ve got, unprotected PIV and all the trimmings including fingering and a sneaky blowjob, too many feelings for something i meant to just be sexy

summary: Your friendship with Spencer reaches breaking point, and there’s no going back after this.

“This is a really bad idea.”

Oh, don’t you know it. But Spencer isn’t pulling back from you – still very much in your space for a man claiming that he shouldn’t be there in the first place.

Although he’s not touching you, not yet, the tension in the room is stretched so thin that you’re worried it’ll snap. There’s no going back after that. It’s all so fragile, this delicate thing between you, and you’re afraid that one wrong move will shatter it all beyond repair. The heavy rain of the summer thunderstorm pounding against your living room window does nothing to relieve the stifling pressure in the room. You want to tell him that you agree, it’s a very bad idea. You want to tell him goodnight, you’ll see him on Monday, you want to wave him towards the stairs of your apartment building and shut the door on him. Except no sound comes out when you open your mouth. Because you’re wound so tight, only by his proximity, by the warmth that leeches over you from having him so fucking close.

You close your mouth again, clear your throat, and frown at the tiniest twitch of his lips. Smug bastard isn’t a side of him you see often. It suits him, annoyingly.

It takes a gargantuan effort to peel your gaze from his mouth, to lock your eyes on his with an intensity he doesn’t expect. To his credit, he doesn’t falter all that noticeably, the catch of his breath only detectable by the barest shudder of his shoulders – but it’s nice to know you hold the same level of power over him as he does you. Maybe not nice, maybe a little bit dangerous, maybe a little bit like standing too close to the edge of a cliff. Adrenaline thundering through your veins, nerve endings on fire, daring one of you to take the leap. Spencer caves first, the slightest skim of his fingers against yours, and it’s game over.

You have no choice but to kiss that stupid little smile right off his face.

He’s taken by surprise when you surge forward to close the gap between your faces, stumbling a little with the force of it, but he catches you. Of course he does, just like always. This moment has been months in the making – eleven months, nine days, and six hours to be exact. Which he always is. From the second you waltzed into the bullpen with your smile and your eyes and your shiny new badge, and him? He has three PHDs to his name, thinking about a fourth, and yet even just the smell of your laundry detergent can render his mind completely blank of anything but you. He should hate it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes forward, pressing his lips to yours with fervour. All he can wonder is why it’s taken so long.

Kissing Spencer Reid is everything. You could do it forever. You probably won’t be that lucky, but you would if he let you. And, while his aversion to touch has never really seemed to apply to you, it’s as though he’s abandoned it completely – the thing about kissing Spencer Reid, you find, is that he’s all hands.

On your cheeks, your jaw, the back of your neck. Sliding down to grip at your upper arms, your elbows. He tugs you in even closer by them until there’s not a breath of air between your bodies. Until he can wind his arms around you completely. Your hands have trailed up to rest on his chest, fairly content to bask in the heat of him and the stuttering of his heartbeat under your fingertips. But it’s like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you. Just that he wants to leave no stone unturned, meticulously cataloguing every inch of your body by touch alone. He probably is, knowing him, committing you to memory. The thought makes you burn, as he grasps at your waist like his life depends on it. He’s not close enough – will never be close enough, you think. His lips part for a moment, just to catch his breath before he dives back in, and you seize the opportunity to lick along the reddened line of them. No, you can’t climb into his body and live there, but sticking your tongue in his mouth is a close second. You’ll just have to live with that.

Spencer’s gasp in response to the intrusion almost makes you draw back, almost. But you can’t go anywhere because he’s on you again, more enthusiastic than he ever was before, backing you up into your apartment. One hand abandons its post on your hip to turn the lock and slide the security chain into place on the front door – safety first, the action is hotter than you’d like to admit – and then it’s back with a vengeance until you’re sure he’s leaving bruises. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Feet shuffle, hands fumble, you almost take the both of you down when the floorboards are interrupted by the lip of the living room rug. But the stumble isn’t worth pulling your face off of Spencer’s, not even for a second. Not until you have to manoeuvre around the coffee table to find the couch anyway.

You mumble a quiet ouch against his lips when the wooden corner of it digs into the back of your knee, and the chuckle you get in response makes your heart grow so big you’re worried it’ll burst your ribcage at the seams. Noses knocking into one another, you turn your face to scowl at the offending item of furniture, but a gentle touch to your jaw coaxes your eyes back to his. And you get it.

This is what everyone means when they say that he looks at you.

Spencer’s eyes are a shade darker in the low light, focused solely on your face. Your lips, your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, he’s studying you like there’s nothing else in the world worth looking at so closely. As if he doesn’t spend most of his working day looking at your face. As if it’s not enough. Even if you weren’t a profiler, the reverence he seems to regard you in would give him away. It’s not the heady pressure of the rolling thunder that’s making you sweat - it’s that look. Because it’s the one you get all the time, reserved just for you. Okay, maybe you had noticed, but you’ve always put it down to wishful thinking. Always had an excuse. It feels more intimate than sticking your tongue in his mouth, looking at him like this. So open, so vulnerable.

He lets you back him up, this time, taking the careful step or two backwards without breaking the eye contact until he can feel the fabric of your couch against his legs. Soft, even through the fabric of his trousers. Spencer expects you’ll feel much the same. There’s no struggle for the upper hand in the quiet of the room. Just the two of you, tentatively taking a step out into the unknown side by side. He lowers himself to sit, couch cushions giving way to his body exactly as softly as he expected, lacing his fingers through yours to take you with him. He doesn’t pull, but you follow him all the same. You let him guide you, settling a thigh either side of his own, balanced carefully on his lap. He won’t let you fall.

“Hi.” His throat is dry - his voice lower, more gravelly than he’s expecting, and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to catch his eyebrows before they can jerk up in surprise.

Your laugh is mesmerising, music to his ears. It washes over him as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks, smoothing his eyebrows with your thumbs.

“Hi,” Your own shaky tone betrays you, just a little, “You okay?”

He’s nodding even as he leans in to kiss you, to inhale you, to drown in you again.

Long fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and the shuddering groan that escapes your lips is absolutely involuntary, but Spencer swallows it without a second thought. Your hands are tight in his hair as his grip wanders to your hips and squeezes – you can’t help but grind down into his lap, feel the hardness of him beneath you. And suddenly, making out like horny teenagers isn’t enough. You have to pull back, however reluctantly, though you don’t stray far.

“Spencer,” You’re breathless, eyes still closed, lips still brushing his with every syllable, “I need you.”

The streetlight shining through the raindrops on the window casts a glow behind your head, Spencer’s heavy lidded eyes fanning it out like a lens flare in a film – like a halo. He’s always thought you had one.

“You have me, you’ve always had me. Are you sure?” He wants to cringe at the question, sure that it’ll send you flying out of his lap, but he has to be certain. He has to know that this isn’t stress relief after the case, that it’s not because he’s right in front of you, that your insides churn every time you look at him the way his tie themselves into knots over you. Your responding smile is fond, one hand sliding down from his hair to swipe your index finger down the length of his nose and he can’t help the upturn of his own lips. In spite of it all, his anxiety dissolves completely, withering and dying under your sincere gaze.

“I’m sure.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

The absence of his hold on you is startling, goosebumps raising on your hips the moment his warm hands move to the buttons of your shirt. To be fair, you’re not much better yourself, already tugging at the knot of his tie until you can slip it over his head. Somewhere in the midst of scrambling fingers and wriggling stiff fabric out of waistbands, you end up buttoning your shirt to his, getting tangled in the both of them when you start wrestling the thing off of his shoulders.

It breaks the tension in the room; the stakes don’t seem quite as high when you’re both wrapped up in your shirts, giggling. Spencer’s dexterous fingers find the culprit, one of your buttons caught in the fastening of one of his, and release it. White and burgundy cotton falling away to reveal you to each other. Dishevelled, grinning, absolutely at ease with one another’s closeness. He looks like he wants to say something else but, whatever it is, he holds it back. You don’t know if things will go beyond tonight, but it’d be worth the mountain of HR paperwork to see him this free even just once more. With anyone else, you might be embarrassed - but this is Spencer.

Spencer, who knows you.

Spencer, who has seen you laugh and cry and scream. You’ve celebrated together, fretted together, grieved together. He’s seen you on your absolute best days, your absolute worst. There’s nothing you’d want to hide from him, so you don’t shy away when he leans forward to latch his lips onto your neck. When he skims his fingers across the skin of your collarbone and leaves a trail of heat and goosebumps behind all at the same time. In much the same way that he preens at your touch, he seems to lean into your hands as you swipe them along his shoulders and down the planes of his chest. Something both known and unknown slots into place. You know what it is, you’re fairly confident he knows what it is, but neither of you will voice it. You don’t think it needs to be. You both know, and that’s enough for now.

At least you don’t get tangled up in anything else, although your jeans fight to the last as they get tugged over your bent knees. You haven’t got the patience to shimmy your underwear off, mostly because he’s already got his hands on you, fingers trailing between your skin and the elastic at your hips. So he’s a tease, now that makes sense.

Lightning fractures the night outside of your darkened window at the same moment Spencer slips his hand down below the elastic of your underwear. His fingers are cold against you, squashed between your weight and his lap, but he manages to swipe them through your folds decisively enough for you to shudder. You’ve already soaked through the cotton, the anticipation had begun the moment he offered to walk you home with that look. Every step since then has only added to your arousal, and it takes no effort at all for him to begin circling your clit with his fingertip. Delicate, deliberate. He’s making you squirm on purpose, wallowing in every whine that escapes your lips and every one you hold back. Your forehead drops to his shoulder as he presses a little more firmly, beginning to alternate between slow circles and dipping his fingers down to tease at your entrance.

You’re so turned on, you think you might die. Genuinely. You’re half convinced that you’re winding closer and closer to a heart attack with every swipe of the good doctor’s fingers against you, that you’ll seize up and go into cardiac arrest at any moment. You need him to do something. You’re teetering on the brink of no return, you need him to push you.

“Spencer.” You breathe as he finally, finally, slides his fingers home inside of you. His thumb takes its place over your clit, digits working gently but relentlessly in tandem with one another.

“I know,” He replies softly, “Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You can only push your face into his neck, whining in harmony with another crash of thunder from the heavens - you know how they feel. Only your crescendo is still being held at arm's length by the man underneath you. It’s rude, actually. Or hot, knowing he’s so focused on you and your pleasure that everything else has stopped existing to him. You’re not sure which option you’d lean towards. Tears start to sting at your lash line, of frustration, of overstimulation, of pleasure. You’re not sure. At least he notices when one solitary drop escapes to slide over his sternum, trailing down his naked chest. And then he doubles down, you’re not ready for it.

He plays you like a violin until you’re writhing, squirming, panting, until you can’t keep still for even a second. Just to show you that he could have done, this whole time. There’s no warning, no siren, no flashing lights or emergency broadcast - you’re cresting the wave before you even really know what’s happening. Nails digging into his shoulders, hips grinding down of their own accord, beads of sweat breaking out in your hairline. It’s downright cruel that it’s taken so long for you to gather the courage for making a move. Distantly, somewhere in your hazy mind, you hope you haven’t hurt him. At least you had the presence of mind to clamp your mouth shut rather than sinking your teeth into his neck. Another time, maybe.

Your faculties come back to you, slowly but surely, although you don’t find yourself any less insatiable than you were before your jeans found a home on the floor. Spencer catches your lips in a gentle kiss, all too innocent considering he’s pulling a very wet hand out of your underwear at the same time. You can’t pull your eyes away when he pulls back to hold it between your faces, just to watch the glisten of them in the dull light, and runs his tongue up the length of his middle finger. It’s hypnotising. You chase him, knocking his hand out of the way to pull his face to yours again. There’s no air between you, skin on skin, as you kiss him for all he’s worth in the darkness of your living room. The taste of you lingers in his mouth, you don’t mind it. Not if it means you can inhale his every breath. And then, there’s the other thing. It won’t be ignored any further, although you’re sure Spencer would be more than happy to forego his own pleasure, if the blissed out look in his eye is anything to go by.

Still, selfishly, you want to see.

One careful press of your hips into his has his eyes rolling back, head following to rest on the back of the couch. You don’t have the time to mourn his lips against yours, next mission already on track as you let your fingers wander beneath the elastic of his own under. He inhales sharply at the touch, head shooting back up, and locks eyes with you. There’s a challenge in there, somewhere under the apprehension of your next move. You pull your fingers away from him, elastic snapping against his hips, and rake his hair back from his face. Your relationship with Spencer has long since evolved past the need for words, so he knows what you mean when you look at him so carefully - it’s his choice. Another beat, another breath, and he smiles. He nods softly. His face scrunches when you lean forward to press a light kiss on the tip of his nose. It’s all far too innocent considering your hands are skimming back down to breach the band of his underwear, sliding underneath just enough to pull him out and - oh.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were into me.” The joke escapes you before you have a chance to stop it. He’s so hard it must be painful. The tip is flushed pink, giving way to smooth skin and ridged veins - you want him in your mouth. But there’s a nagging throb between your legs, less a want and more a need.

“I’d like to be.”

Your bark of laughter lights up the whole room, the city, the world. Maybe it’s a bit soon, but he wants to hear you laugh like that every day for the rest of his life. He wants to be the reason for it. God, he loves you. That’s what it is, ultimately. He wonders if you can see it in his face, the way he’s watching you, as your laughter dies but your easy smile remains. He isn’t nervous anymore. He doesn’t know why he ever was in the first place, he wants this - wants you, desperately. The decision is made when he grips at your hips again, pulling you up ever so gently onto your knees to hover above him. You pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, the chilled air that hits your slick makes you shudder involuntarily, as your other hand grips him gently to guide him. Spencer lowers you onto him slowly, eyes steady on your face.

It’s moments like this that he’s grateful for the willpower he’s cultivated over the years - because, the moment his cock hits your heat? When the head of him slips into you, when you hold yourself there for a moment, and when you steadily start to work yourself up and down? He’s done for, absolutely gone, already teetering on the edge of oblivion. You take a little more of him every time you sink down again, breathing quickening, until you can seat yourself flush in his lap. A sharp gasp escapes you, punching out of your lungs at the intrusion and he seizes the opportunity to surge forward. He kisses you deeply, a newfound fire burning in the pit of his stomach, and his grip on you turns bruising when you return the passion. Slowly, deeply, he starts to grind you down onto him, swallowing every moan and groan and whimper you let slip.

Though your movements stay steady, he’s hurtling towards his end far sooner than he wants to. Your fingers tangle in his hair, lips on his - not kissing anymore, just panting into each other’s mouths. A sheen of sweat is starting to develop along both of your bodies. Slick skin sliding together, and it feels so good. You feel so good. Hot and wet and tight around him, your scent in his nose, it’s all so overstimulating and nowhere near enough all at the same time. And he starts mumbling it all, tongue loosened by the pleasure, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Soft praises, whines, utter gibberish about how good you feel. He can’t stop, even when you giggle and press butterfly kisses to the words as they leave his lips. He wants to help you let go again, he wants to feel you squeeze around his cock the same way you did around his fingers, but he hasn’t got the presence of mind to do it. Not while he’s hanging over the edge the way he is.

A much more rational part of his mind, somewhere in the back, reminds him that he’s forgone the one cardinal rule of high school sex ed classes. In the spontaneous haste of it all, neither of you thought about a condom. He’s clean, obviously. He trusts you to be clean, obviously. But there’s still the question of where. Because he’s dangerously close and there’s going to come a point where it’s too late to ask. He doesn’t even realise he’s asked the question, in the middle of his mumbled monologue, until you’re answering him with your own question.

“Can I choose?” You interrupt his rambling with a wicked glint in your eye. In all honesty, you’re sure you could ask him anything in this moment, and his answer would be yes. Though, it turns out he’s only got the capacity to nod an affirmative.

“Oh my God…”

That’s all you get when you pull off of him suddenly, sinking to your knees on the carpet in front of him. Whatever it was that might have followed is cut off abruptly by your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

He’s right on the edge, that much is obvious, it won’t take much - and there’s nothing more you want right now than to thoroughly unravel this man. Usually so put together, buttoned up, absolutely falling to pieces under your touch. While he’s a comfortable thickness, you’re not up to trying to swallow the length of him. Frankly, neither of you have the patience to torture him with the preparation it would take, not today at least. So you settle for wrapping your lips around the head, eyes locked on his furrowed brow as he watches you, and suck. Every swipe of your tongue over him drags another groan, gasp, whine of your name. It’s dangerous information, knowing how he sounds when he’s like this. You’re not sure you’ll be able to think of anything else for the rest of your life. Looking him in the eye over the next round table is going to be interesting, to say the least. It only takes one more swirl of your tongue over him to open the floodgates.

You swallow down every last drop he gives you, warm and tangy but not unpleasant, as his spine curves towards you. Another breathless chuckle, and he strokes a finger down the side of your face when you pull off of him with a satisfying pop. Your tongue pokes out automatically, just to prove to him that you did in fact take the lot - just to watch his eyes roll back in his head again.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Spencer’s talking to himself more than he is you, as he hauls you back up and into his lap. Dick softening slowly between you, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you again, to swipe his tongue through the remnants of himself on your lips.

“I’ve been around a while, thanks for noticing.” You’re joking, nipping at his jaw, shifting as the sticky mess between your legs begs you for a quick shower before bed. The amusement on your tongue dies when you open your eyes, to see him watching you again.

“Trust me,” He’s looking at you so earnestly, you’re worried you might cry, “I noticed you a long time ago.”

It’s early when you wake - when the world is bathed in that shade of blue that only seems to exist just before the sun rises. You’re warm. Tethered to the earth by the set of arms wrapped snugly around your middle, by the steady heartbeat beneath the chest where you rest your head. Spencer isn’t awake, not really, not yet. But he shifts as you snuffle in closer under the duvet and tighten your grip in the old Academy t-shirt he’d swiped from your closet. A soft press of lips against your forehead and you sigh contentedly, more than happy to let the morning waste away. Everything else can wait.

Or at least, you want to let it wait - the blaring ringtone of your work phone in the living room puts a relative damper on that particular plan.

“Let it ring.” Comes a tired voice from somewhere above your head. Craning your neck, you spot him blinking and bleary eyed in the morning light, and take a moment to savour it. Him. He turns his gaze to you, tired as it is, and smiles softer than you’ve ever seen. It’s unspoken, a silent agreement made just before sunrise in your bed. Whatever this is, you’re in it together. So you tug the neckline of the t-shirt down, just far enough to plant a kiss in the hollow of his throat before dragging yourself from his warmth to hunt down your screeching phone.

You’re twisting your key in the front door when he plucks up the courage to ask the looming question.

“Are we telling them, or not yet?” Watching fingers tighten around the strap of his messenger bag has your mind hurtling back to the night before, and exactly what those fingers were doing. You shrug, reaching over to untangle his anxious grip and loop his hands through yours. A smile, bright as the rising sun, breaks out on Spencer’s face. You can’t help but mirror it when you answer him.

“That depends on who you want to win the betting pool.”

“There’s a pool?”

fun fact the inspiration for this was i wanted to sit in spencer reid’s lap so now we all get to sit in spencer reid’s lap you’re welcome🧡

#im actually incapable of writing anything that doesn’t involve yearning okay #it has absolutely no bearing on this fic whatsoever but i’m envisioning season 6 spencer here idk why #that’s a lie i DO know why #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #lou is writing

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tomwaterbabies · 2 months ago

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disneyland happenings

featuring varian and hugo. since thats what our costumes were

^(us trying to be very spooky) (there is a lot below btw lol)

someone asking if i (dressed as hugo) was from atlantis. surprisingly this only happened once

we went to kingdom hearts mickey first bc that was gonna be a popular one the rest of the night. the idea of varian in kingdom hearts is definitely really funny. i do not go here im just being honest

OH. new addition to the costume. i had olivia with me as a shoulder friend

met bruno from encanto who commented on her. we talked about our rodent friends he was very nice. he said he brought "all 200" of his rats with him and wanted to help feed them and knows mickey is a big mouse so maybe we could ask him. i said we could just steal some food. varian got mad

went over to see sid from toy story because he seemed like a mean little bitch. he was a mean little bitch. i may have said that his creations could use a little work but thats no reason for him to say "your mouse needs a little work" and "i hope you kept the receipt".... cunt

laughing about how mother gothel was no longer part of the characters to meet. "they killed her forever this time" etc etc

watching the parade and varian almost jumping out of his skin when mother gothel was in the parade. her ghost

we went to this thing called villain's grove which was a bunch of light and effects n stuff through their little forest area. it was mostly a cool immersive experience so most of the footage is on the Lights And Effects Themselves but here's a few of us that look cool lol. gay tunnel (maybe not) (that segment was themed after frollo)

met hans from frozen. we absolutely had no clue he was going to be there it was pretty funny. you may guess that my friend @kristoffs-lullaby (varian cosplayer) is a frozen enjoyer. so we hopped in line to see him

hans asked if varian's alchemy balls were some sort of magic or enchantment and you'll Never guess what varian responded with

though explaining its alchemy and science and all that didnt really make him feel better. he even asked if its something that would be in danger of bringing in an "eternal winter". varian did not like that :)

saw dr. doofenshmirtz (?) i didnt watch that show. he was pretty fun to meet though. i know some people dont like his creepy ass design, but i do, its fun and weird to me. he wanted to collaborate with me and varian since we're scientists. really funny to have him say "i'll have my people call your people". a possible strange message that rapunzel will get later /j

also encountered hades. though our friend @iammisswow was with us and so i had him focus on her since shes a big hercules fan. the visual was hugo getting this scary man's attention to be put on someone else by calling her out. it worked obviously. "oh SHE is a HUGE fan of hercules"

madam mim from sword in the stone didnt really have as big of a crowd so we actually talked with her a pretty good amount. shes SO fun. lots of discussion about magic vs science and how she thinks knowledge is stupid. you can imagine how we of all people felt when she said "KNOWLEDGE is not power, MAGIC is power". she also liked olivia (she thought she was a familiar)

meeting judge doom from roger rabbit was kind of scary LOL. very intimidating man. but his area had vats of chemicals and all that so you can imagine we had fun with that. WE can be trusted. obviously.

nervously just nodding our heads as judge doom tells us to come to him if we have any information regarding where "that rabbit is" (we are not doing that)

and also we saw ernesto de la cruz from coco. we were actually able to catch him right as he started performing which is rad but i dont actually have any interactions to tell u about here it was bad ass though

and, unbeknownst to Hugo (as in i also didnt know about this), varian had a surprise for him. he had a whole... horribly genuine and flustery spiel to say about messing around in his lab and all that and made something for hugo. which was a necklace with a piece of colored glass-like material (teal) in the shape of a heart. hugo handled that whole situation really well (lie)

ANYWAYS ! that's it. i've mentioned before but Disneyland Trips will be retired really soon since I'm not too fond of a lot of their wack shit right now, but wanted to share some of the last bit of enjoyable times to be had there before that happens

#cosplay #varigo #vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #pictobox #varian the alchemist #hugo vat7k #tts varian

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damagedintellect · 3 months ago

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Alpha Fyodor x Omega Fem!Reader

💌 The Poetic Nature of the DOA Novelist: Chapter 1? 💌

Summary: You were hired as the DOA's novelist, usually Nikolai is your heat partner but sometimes Fyodor takes advantage of the fact that you are an omega

Notes: I'm drunk and on my period there's not enough omegaverse for me to consume so fuck I gotta wrtie me own ughhhh why caan;t my fingers hit the right letters.m I'll fix it when I'm sober. Sober me here fuck it I'm gonna keep it, I just can't be bothered

Fem!Omega reader bc it's self indulgent 🍋

💌 Word count: 2,540 💌 You are here | Chapter 2??? idk durnk me wants a part 2 but w/Nikolai 🍋

Your mind has been foggy all day and only seems to be getting worse by the hour. You’ve been staring blankly at the pen in your hands, unable to focus on finishing your current sentence. Last night you thought it was a fever but looking at the calendar you groaned. That's when the realization hits you, your heat came early and that's why you feel so out of it. You step into the hallway knocking on Nikolai's door. No response, there's a good chance the alpha was out. You pressed your head against the door.

This wasn't good.

You tried jiggling the knob but it was locked and there was no key, only Nikolai could open the door. You've tried to pick the lock before it doesn't work. That's what you hated the most. All you wanted was to make your nest but Nikolai hates when others go snooping through his things. Which was fair even though Fyodor and Sigma both respect each other's personal boundaries but Nikolai is Nikolai you supposed. Thinking about it, the alpha in question was the only one who has ever sifted through everyone's personal belongings. Besides the point without his body or even his scent you were starting to suffer. The curse of being an unmated omega.

You sniff the air trying to see if anyone else was around who would know when he'd be back. To your dismay it seems only Fyodor is here at the base. Go figure. Outside of recruitment you've never seen Fukichi or Bram around and now that Sigma has his casino to run, this has been the case more often than not. You hobble over to his door which was already open. He must not be busy at the moment otherwise he wouldn't let the others openly pester him. You knocked at the entrance before letting yourself in as he was typing away at his computer.

"I assume you're not that busy right now?" You glanced at his twelve monitors, unable to comprehend the mess displayed across the screens.

"Correct." He glanced over his shoulder "I assume your heat came early?"

"Correct. Can I sit in your lap until Nikolai gets back? I would ask for your blanket or pillow or something but I already know it wouldn't smell like alpha." He doesn't sleep in them most nights so why would they. Sure you could have asked for his ushanka but he wasn't wearing it strangely enough. You liked when he didn’t have his hat. His hair was beautiful. You want to run your fingers through it, maybe even braid it like Nikolai’s.

The alpha smirked, motioning you to take your seat. He must have planned this. There's a good chance he just sent Nikolai off to make you desperate. Normally Nikolai's schedule works around your heats perfectly and Fyodor's in charge of planning the timeline of events. What an asshole. It's a shame he's the only one who can help you right now. Honestly you want to be mad but your inner omega has a thing for this bastard.

You situated yourself so that you were facing Fyodor. He even went as far to lower his chair to help you get into his lap. Once comfortable you nuzzled into his neck breathing him in. Just the scent of the alpha alone was already making the dull ache dissipate. You were safe and protected and even though you know you were never in any danger your body needed the confirmation. Secondary genders suck.

When you were recruited as the novelist for the DOA Fyodor was quick to make it known he had no interest in helping with your heats but after Nikolai volunteered to be your heat partner you noticed Fyodor's almost taken aback expression. Then Fyodor's rut hit when you were the only one around. Which at the time was odd but thinking back surely he planned that too. He cornered you, had his way with you and you would hate to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot and that's a horrible thing to admit. You would have never expected to have a thing for the russian. It’s not like you were even an acquaintance, nor was he someone you despised. You were just here for the job and by technicalities he was your employer.

Fyodor was always cold and distant until he needed something, which from you was very rare. You could even say he seemed kind of bored and aloof until you got him talking about his master plans but even then he kept the details to a minimum. However after being forced to spend his rut with him your view of Fyodor started shifting. There was something about how assertive he was yet uncharacteristically affectionate towards you that left you in awe. It was like you were pulling back the curtain ever so slightly to see that there really was a human behind the facade. That and his scent drove you crazy as is and it's extremely subtle, so subtle that you can't even smell it half the time.

The moment he was consciously himself again, he smiled wickedly or rather you think deranged would be a better word. He kicked you to the curb without any acknowledgment of what possessed him to have such poor planning. This has repeated for a few cycles at this point and things didn't add up. You were used to his hot cold demeanor by now but you still don't understand why he makes a big deal out of it. Actually scratch that you knew it's because it bothered him that his secondary gender takes control of his actions. He doesn't take any blockers or suppressants, apparently for religious reasons, but still. He holds great disdain for the fact that no matter how he feels about you deep down there will always be that innate instinct to take care of you simply because you're an unmated omega.

At the end of the day you don't care who fucks your brains out but Fyodor likes playing with his food. Which is why you wish Nikolai would come back already. Your hole ached to be filled. Nikolai teases you but he always makes sure you are taken care of. He was the best alpha of the DOA in your opinion. The two of you had such instant chemistry and you talk about it often enough. Honestly you don't know why he doesn't just claim you now but that's Nikolai for you. He likes his freedom and you can admire that. A man who sticks to his philosophy. Fyodor confuses you because he says one thing but will do another. Like right now, providing his scent to comfort you.

You slowly rocked your hips into Fyodor whimpering pathetically. You could practically hear the grin as he hummed. You took another deep breath of the alpha's scent. You would kill for him to scent you right now. You'd kill for anyone to scent you right now. Your movement grinds to a halt when his fingers dig into your side.

"Enough of that, continue and lose your scent privilege."

Had you been in your right mind you would have laughed. You didn't know you had scent privileges. That would sound a lot like helping with your heat. Part of you hopes you'll remember this when your heat is over so you could throw it in his face. Instead you begged and moaned under his touch.

"P-please, just let me warm you until Nikolai gets back. Being filled is enough. I can't think straight. Everything hurts."

The sentence was shaky at best but you felt him twitch between your legs. He was already mostly hard from your lazy attempt at relief. You didn't even expect him to answer your half drunken rambling when he sighed.

"Fine, if you wish to fuck yourself silly than be my guest but I offer no further assistance."

His tone was as uninterested as usual but it sent shivers down your spine as you fumble with his pants to set his cock free. His expression was neutral but there was a sharpness to his features that was undeniable. For the first time since entering the room his eyes were glued on you as you hastily situated your own clothes and aligned yourself, sinking down on his inches. You were twitching and holding back moans as you bottomed out. Instant relief and pleasure flooded your senses. The sensation of feeling full was so divine. You stayed there panting into Fyodor's neck refusing to move. You prayed that this would be enough. The last thing you want to do is beg him for help.

You gasped, biting the back of your hand as you felt him twitch inside you. You clenched around him involuntarily feeling a wave of pleasure wrack through your body. You were drooling at the fullness while gripping his shoulders tightly. He technically gave you permission to move but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Although your head was screaming at you otherwise. His scent was growing stronger, it had you reeling almost like he was urging you to help yourself. To be a good little omega.

To be, his, good little omega.

With that in mind you slowly rolled your hips choking on a moan as your body twitched around him again. The angle he was able to hit like this was driving you mad. Why have you never done this before? You would have to make a note of this for later. You’ve fooled around with Nikolai quite a bit so why have you never fucked on a chair? With how sensitive you were in heat you could cum just like this. It took all of your strength to lift yourself up enough to sink back down completely. He was just long enough to brush past the right spot to make your legs feel like jelly.

True to his word he did not help you although his hand found itself around your waist. Probably to make sure you didn't fall out of the chair. Your body was spasming in pleasure to the point where your thighs were shaking an awful lot and you have yet to cum. The sheer idea of being bred was enough to satisfy that urge. It felt so good you might even pass out. The more you inhaled his scent the further your mind slipped into heat. You were too busy chasing that high you hadn’t noticed the low grunts and panting in your ear. If you took the time to observe Fyodor you would have seen just how disheveled his demeanor had become.

A thin layer of sweat plastered his bangs to his forehead. He stopped typing ages ago but he still managed to maneuver the mouse around, doing who knows what. His breathing had become ragged when you started moving and the grip on your waist had tightened. You hoped it would leave marks for Nikolai to see. His eyes jumped back and forth from his monitor to you. At this rate neither of you would last much longer.

“F-Fyodor, nnghh, I'm-”

He pressed his lips to your ear murmuring “Cum for me darling” in that deep rich tone of his before he kissed your temple. You slump against him gripping his shoulders tightly as you reach your climax. You were such a panting mess you didn't notice Nikolai had been standing in the doorway the whole time.

The jester took that as his cue to enter the scene bouncing over to you both. “I'm back, did I miss anything?” Nikolai surveys the room cheerful as ever, wiggling his eyebrows while Fyodor's expression goes flat.

He leaned into Fyodor’s personal space with excitement “Oh good you finally confessed! It's about time you figured it out. Honestly it was so uncharacteristic for you of all people to be the last one to know.” He clapped his hands as Fyodor frowned.

“I do not understand what you are referring to, neither (Y/N) nor I made any confession. I was simply minding my business when her preheat kicked in.” There was something about the way that Fyodor said it that sounded dismissive like he was trying to convince himself that it was true.

Nikolai rolled his eyes “Well then if you haven't realized it that's fine. I'll be taking her now if it's all the same to you.” his smile turned into a sneer.

“By all means her heat is your responsibility after all.”

Nikolai helped delicately peel you out of Fyodor's lap holding you in his arms like a princess. You were extremely sensitive to touch and both Alpha's couldn't hide the soft satisfied expression as they watched you enter Nikolai's cape.

“Careful Dos-kun, get too attached and I might have to claim her for myself~” the jester teased even though Fyodor knew if it came down to it Nikolai wouldn't mind sharing at all.

It was the reason he knew he could get away with using you during his rut cycles. Although the first time was purely a miscalculation on his part, but he digressed. The rest was about convenience. Fyodor had or ever wanted to have rut partners in the past, which was unfortunate because having one makes things so much easier to manage. Besides the point he was getting sidetracked in his head.

“As if the thought doesn't excite you.” Fyodor quipped back as his attention was drawn to his monitor. Dazai had managed to put him in check twice since you was being very distracting.

Nikolai laughed ruffling the other’s hair. “Guilty as charged but still,” he trailed off turning towards the door “It's not fair to play games with someone who doesn't know they're playing a game.” Nikolai waved his coat as he vanished to his room leaving Fyodor to scowl at the vacant space.

You were happily making your nest on Nikolai's bed. The room smelled very strongly of the alpha, it helped keep your mind clear especially after you came on Fyodor's cock. In your brain the faster you set up your nest the quicker you could be knotted. Slick was still running down your thigh when Nikolai joined you leaning over your shoulder. “I like what you've done with the place.” He snickered, placing a kiss on your scent gland “Can't wait to ruin it!” He chirped.

You moaned as he pressed himself against your backside. His hands were set on removing the rest of your clothes “By the way did you know Fyodor was playing chess with Dazai that entire time?”

Your eyes widened at the sudden insight. “That's what he was doing! I'm surprised he even let me in then, he hates losing to Dazai.”

Nikolai's hands danced across your exposed skin, kissing everywhere he could while undressing himself. “That's how important you are to him.”

You scoffed “Yeah as if.”

You can’t say he didn’t try, Nikolai has known for a while now that you and Fyodor are fated mates. He's astonished that neither of you could smell it on each other. It wasn’t his job to interfere though he hoped that you'd realize it sooner, But that's not his problem!

#ill probably regret this is the morning but fuck it #im just drunk enough to post this #🍋#my bsd brainrot is showing #bsd imagines #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #x reader #fyodor imagines #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor smut #bsd smut #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #a/b/o verse #omegaverse #alpha fyodor #omega reader

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moonshynecybin · 4 months ago

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Hey! Just wanted to say I’m in awe of how your writing it’s just so GOOD and FUN and TORUROUS. It’s rly hard to nail the voices and dialogue of characters (especially when writing them speaking in english!) but you always make it so believable. Ur Vale especially is sooo charismatic which like hats off bc a more mercurial man has not been made.

Re ur charged-airport-conversation fic, I’m intrigued to find out how Marc will handle his sexuality crisis. Will he be in denial? does he very seriously study gay culture like telemetry data? is he getting Grindr? is he seeing it as something to incorporate into his PT routine & somehow translate this to a competitive edge? how did he feel about the pope saying frociaggine????

Also I loved the goofy brother shenanigans, Alex strongest most patient and silliest man alive truly. Extremely funny to think of Alex “please get a girlfriend you’re 30 and annoying me” Marquez having to cope with Marc coming back like “I found one! :3” holding hands with Cervera’s enemy #1 undisputed champ 2015-2024

Anyways, would love to hear any thoughts u had but no pressure! I just wanted to thank u for ur brilliant mind & forget about whatever fresh hell that sprint was

this one. is one that i plan to maybe actually and fr write out so i shant answer in full because i hope that you'll find out eventually. um. i CAN give you chapter two! of THIS fic where Marc and Vale get stuck in an airport and have a somewhat fraught little bonding session. i have not proofread this OR reread the original so if there's inconsistencies just chill out. theres also a lot of liberties taken with the amount of privacy these guys have on a given race weekend again just chill out. please. they live in different countries and are bitter rivals its hard to get them alone into fictional scenarios. its about 1.4k.

(Part ONE !)

The next time he sees Vale is in the paddock.

It's not unusual to see him— the paddock is small and Vale is always a presence, felt even when he’s gone, indelible—but it’s on the television more often than not these days. Maybe a glimpse of him zooming around on his scooter, ignoring the swing of the camera phones tracking him in his wake. But it’s not like this, never this close up. Vale maintains distance, and Marc has adapted to take his cues from that same distance. He’s not going to be the first to engage, not anymore.

All that being said, Marc is trying to grab some alone time in between sessions, communing with his lunch and contemplating ways to improve his breaking into Turn 11. He’s tucked into a shady place out of the way, generally out of the range of any stray cameras, when Vale catches him, sliding next to him on the table and leaning forwards on his elbows.

He starts picking at Marc’s food.

Marc reacts reflexively, not even processing that it's Vale who’s at his elbow who is reaching over to snag a bit of his chicken. He lifts his bowl out of reach like he would with Alex. “Hey— that's mine,”

Vale’s game, apparently, shooting him one of those dangerous grins, eyes crinkling at the sides towards Marc like he hasn’t seen in years. He’s brimming with the confidence of someone used to getting away with breaking rules. Marc puts down his food. Lifts a hand, adjusts the cap at the top of his head, and tucks his hair behind his ear.

This means something. He doesn’t know what.

“Allora, you were not eating it.”

And Marc has always been easy for it—the simple skill he has in spinning a situation into the brightest version of itself, mood turning on a dime. Even when he was destroying Marc, he would do it with a smile.

It’s that same silverbright thread that makes Marc laugh, disbelieving, a shock of delight. He shoves at the edge of Vale’s arm, jockeying with his elbow. He bites his lip, shakes his head. Would you look at that?

“Presumptuous,” Marc scolds, and tucks back into his lunch, forking another bite into his mouth. Vale grins and leans closer, conspiratorial. That same hot, embarrassed feeling from the airport rears its head, giddy. Marc glances around. There’s no one here. He feels like there is. LIke there’s eyes on them, even though he’d chosen a place where there shouldn't be.

It feels like crossing a line, teetering on the edge of some cliff, one toe over the edge. Hot and anticipatory in the pit of his stomach. There’s a breeze going, and he shivers. Vale leans closer.

He likes it.

He also knows that he shouldn't like it. He’s gone through this song and dance before. This feeling, this hero worship that he has with Vale never leads him down any good road. He thought– six premier class titles and nearly ten years of vitriol had been an effective cure. Not so, he’s finding out.

Vale corrects, “I see what I see. This I cannot help.”

“Oh yeah? You’ve been watching me?

Vale shrugs, steals another bite. “You do manage to put on a good, ah, show.” He finds the words in Spanish. Marc can’t remember the last time they spoke in Spanish.

Marc takes a breath in. Settles himself. He doesn’t know what the end goal is here. Curiosity wins out— it’s better than wondering why Vale’s here in the first place. What game he’s trying to play. What he thinks he’ll get out of being nice to Marc, aside from that shivery feeling clawing its way up the base of his spine. He should really at least find out if he’s doing this because he plans on not being nice to Marc.

“How did you find me?” Is what he goes with. Neutral enough.

“You are not hard to find.” The answer is vague, but frank. Vale loves to speak around things.

Marc raises an eyebrow, decides to just keep looking at him. They both know he’s bullshitting. Vale breaks, and makes a face, shrugging.

“I have been racing here longer than you. I know the hiding spots.”

Marc gives him a minute roll of the eyes. It's still not an answer. “You know, they remodeled not too long ago. The entire layout changed.” Vale would’ve had to work to find him.

“Not too much!” Vale spreads his palms cheerfully, seizing on a diversion. “The bones are still the same. The stands are over there,” he juts a thumb, “The pits are here. The bathrooms change, but bah. It’s a facelift.”

Marc wrangles down a smile. Vale’s not being serious— he’s being fun. Maybe he’s trying to get him comfortable for some reason. “A lot changes, I think.” He says frankly, and he means it.

Vale’s eyes flash. He sees Marc’s conviction, catches the double meaning. Another one of their conversations centering around two different issues on the surface, but coming back to their history all the same. The elephant in the room butting into other topics. History, division, and rivalry, all sneaking its way into the cracks in their words.

Vale keeps going, the lead in their little play.

“Maybe. But it’s not— like, aerodynamics, new regulations, new tires— all that changes. Small stuff. Opinions, riders. But it is still a paddock. I’ve been in paddocks my entire life. You can’t change much.”

Things change a lot, in Marc’s experience. People. Teams. Bodies.

Friendships.

And Marc is brave usually, has made a career out of it, so he feels like he has to ask. No use avoiding it and feeling half out of his skin for the rest of the day. Vale’s knee bumps into his own and he closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them Vale is already looking at him

“Why are you here?” He levels.

Vale throws him a soft smile. It comforts exactly no part of Marc.

“Maybe I was looking for a hiding place.”

Marc hesitates, choosing his words carefully. It’s always a spar with Valentino; even when they were friendly, they were still competing.

“Am I the hiding place?”

“Well, I am still more famous than you, is true. Less photographers on you than me. It’s peaceful.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Now there’s a good question.” Vale says, stealing something else off of Marc’s plate. “Today? I was hungry. I thought I’d stop by and eat with an old friend.” The words jolt through Marc like a highside. He’s in the air— lost, flying, falling.

Vale stands, towering. He claps Marc on the shoulder. It burns white hot. Marc keeps his eyes on him, trying to catch a hint, a clue as to how this all happened.

An old friend.

“Is that what we are?” He asks, more earnest than he should be. Vale can be such a bastard.

“Well, what would you call it?” He responds, turning the question on Marc, voice quiet. Serious, like he knows whatever hangs between them is as thin as a spiderweb. Marc swallows.

“I don’t know,” Marc answers. still too honest, even now. Something flickers on Vale’s face, too quick and complex for him to read.

“Think about it.” Vale prompts, and walks away.

Marc finds out that they weren’t alone, in that section of the paddock the next day. The pictures hit the news after the race, headlines rolling in thankfully after Marc has left for home. Valentino Rossi and Marc Marquez sharing lunch, alone on a race weekend ten years after their falling out. What could it mean?

But Marc’s eyes look at the photo and just catch on Vale’s shoulders, leaning towards Marc, the palm of his hand, arcing through the air as he gestures, frozen on the screen of his phone, and himself, eyes crinkled at the corners. He was wrong. He didn’t manage to reign in that smile after all.

FRIENDS AGAIN?, the headline asks, and Marc wonders.

#to answer your quastion. a little bit.#marc thinks its adolescent hero worship. which is good excuse until youre thirty and supposed to hate someone #and then youre maybe friends again and you STILL feel the same and also are having sex dreams at ur big age.#motogp #callie speaks #asks #rosquez #my fic #airport au

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fabricated-misslieness · 7 months ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: joel miller x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: how a crush looks like when it's mutual between two old men

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1234 (𓁹󠁘◡𓁹)

ᴡ��ʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: middle school crush type cliche's, suggested makeout session

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: reader and joel are around the same age, and reader has a collection of records, he also has a beard. written from Ellie's pov. (its unsettling to see pics of joel smiling bc HES NEVER FCKN HAPPY)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

It's silly to see old men acting nervous, especially with Joel around. He's never really nervous, or at least he doesn't show it. What was it, something about life lessons?

Being as old as they are, knees givin' way, calloused hands, joints ain't like they used to be; you've experienced it all. You've experienced that shame of not knowing the answer in math class, tripping over your own feet or misjudging just how slippery freshly mopped floor is; missing a shot, getting nailed in the face by the stock of your own gun, and getting ambushed by a group of clickers. Most of all, you've experienced many rejections.

And yet...it still seems like you're afraid?

That's what Ellie sees, anyway, with the way you look at each other. You're both smiling, it's sweet, sickeningly so, because you're looking down at your own feet and not even seeing those smiles you're sending each other.

"I, uh, 'ppreciate it. Truly." Joel speaks up first, his eyes flitting up from the fresh cup of warm coffee in his hand to your face. Those eyes stay, with courage, on your face, and maybe he doesn't notice that you're not looking up at him because he's admiring you.

"It's, um," Your smile widens, you shake your head, shrug your shoulders lightly like, "it's nothing."

"No, really." Joel puts the cup down. It makes a loud sound in the cricket-silence, thick awkwardness in the room, and it finally brings your eyes up to his. "This-this stuff is real hard to get your hands on 'round here, 'cuz..." He pauses, suddenly self aware of his ramblin'. "well, I'm sure you know why."

You open your mouth, gape for a moment as the words just on your tongue are suddenly replaced by a conscious mind, "Yeah, I know."

Joel picks his cup back up, but he doesn't take a sip. Instead he takes it in both hands, inducing more sweat to slick up his hand for more than one reason now, "How-how'd you get this stuff, anyway?"

"Traded it."

Obviously. Ellie rolls her eyes, How else does one get stuff around here? It dawns on her the second after that killing is the other way.

"What for?" Joel follows up, thumbing at the top edge of the cup, dangerously close to slipping his finger into the dark, scaldingly hot liquid.

There's humor, finally, from your end that eases a bit of the tension. "You do not wanna know."

"I do!" Joel's quick to object, he stands up a little straighter, his smile widens a little more, "I want to know what I owe you." He says it in a way that enunciates each word correctly, like he was serious, and yet the smile on his face is clearly turning his tone rather playful.

"I, well..." You scratch the hairs of your beard, looking away from his eyes nervously, out the kitchen doorway, out the window to the snowing outside. It's clear your intensions teeter on a yes or a no, to tell him or to not, but you stand on what you've previously said, so as to not cause you the trouble of admitting the truth.

Joel places his coffee down again, except it doesn't bring your eyes to his. He scoffs and crosses his arms, shifting his stance in a way that brings him a tiny bit closer to you, and yet he still looks like the standoffish asshole Ellie likes to joke he is. "It can't be that bad."

"It, it is, that bad." You admit on an impulsive thought, which only further feeds his curiosity.

Joel tries at a guess. "What, a gun?"

"Worse."

"Two guns?" He tries again, although on the same object, because to this old man, Ellie thinks, nothing is worse than the slight increase of the possibility that his world's in danger.

"I–" You're teetering, there, again, and Ellie makes a game of guessing what you'll decide. It's a yes this time 'round, she can see it in the way you're beginning to close your eyes, to wince, to prepare for his disappointment. "A record."

"What?!" Joel explodes, almost immediately, because he knows you love those things, that you collect them. You'd give up such a priceless piece of your collection just to give him something he'll consume, something so momentary that it's almost entirely—no, it is not worth it.

"It's–" You open your eyes again, to look at him, moving your hands frantically to ease him. "It's fine, really, a small thing, I barely listen to it."

"You have your records on a cycle, damnit! You put them on a cycle so that you can listen to all of them an equal amount, so nothing goes unappreciated!" It's something so particular, so unnoticeable, that even Ellie didn't know that.

"Joel–"

It's petty, frustratingly so to the spectator, Ellie. It's just a record, and coffee is just coffee; but she's barely sixteen, and she doesn't know the emotional attachments to these things the two of you do.

She doesn't know the bliss Joel finds in coffee, but you do; and she doesn't know the escape that those damn music records are to you, but Joel does.

"I'm sorry." Joel opens his eyes, stops pinching the bridge of his nose. It's an immediate deflation of emotions that Ellie would've liked to laugh at. "That's, a record. It's a lot to you."

"It is," You agree, not downplaying it anymore. Or, well, "it's just–" some low quality band, he stops you with a pointed look.

You look at him, eyes at full attention, accepting defeat and yet the way your eyes...Ellie can see admiration. "You do." And when you say it, it's not in a self-righteous way, but a simple fact.

"I owe you." He says, with finality; he won't take no for an answer.

You stare at each other, just a couple of seconds, no words, nothing about the fact you're starin' at each other, just unspoken, yet still visible appreciation in the look you share.

You two were and are just so caught up with each other that you'd forgotten she was even there at all. She must admit, it's very sweet, but she likes her foods more savory.

"You guys are pathetic." Ellie finally speaks up, a look of evident. played disgust on her face.

There's a snap and a jump and now you're about two feet away from each other again. You're looking away from each other, Joel's eyes are on the floor, yours are to the roof, and it's just so hilarious; and finally, finally, Ellie gets to laugh.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Joel and him are talking again. It's too sweet, the way they avoid looking at each other, well, actually, they can actually keep eye contact now. At least for a couple minutes, anyway. He touches his beard when Joel makes him nervous, and Joel fingers at his jacket like he's pulling a trigger. What are these two, twelve?

—

Maybe they're not just talking now. I saw Joel checking him out, totally indecent behavior you definitely do not want to see from your so-called father figure.

—

I think they just came back from making out. OK. Yeah. They did. It looks like his beard has lost a patch. Figuratively speaking, of course. Joel's hair is messy and his jacket's buttons are all wrong. Gross.

—

Maybe I've warmed up to sweets.

#🤬 // swearshirt #joel miller x reader #joel miller x male reader #joel x male reader #joel x reader #last of us x reader #last of us x male reader #🌸 // success!#💞 // darlings

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

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Jungkook: Why Not 🔞

In which Jungkook has you figured out. Dirty humor, mean and bratty- you're pretty much simply a bitch. So why are you crying over some scraped up knees and a dirty plushy?

Tags/Warnings: non-Idol AU, enemies to lovers, reader acts like she could kill but is actually a cinnamon roll, Jungkook just simply is a cinnamon roll, adult themes, fluff, romance, short!reader go cry about it, smut but very low-carb (handjob, cum in pants oops), slight DDLG-aspects/themes? Soft daddy/dom vibes from kook?

Length: longer than JKs Dick career

Additional Content: How So (Part 2)

A/N: have to post it shortened bc the longer version breaks the app :) have some fluff comfort after all that angst psycho shit I posted.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

It's not like Jungkook hates you. He really, honestly, doesn't.

In fact, he admires how honest you are, in a way. You seem comfortable with yourself, which shows in a healthy amount of confidence, no thought wasted on what people might think of your outfit or makeup. You're very expressive and creative, and you always work out solutions whenever everyone else would suggest simply giving up.

You're just.. too bold for him. He's not really interested in most things you discuss- which is often something lewd- and he also doesn't really share any interests with you. You're a miss know-it-all, you get dramatic if you don't get your way, and you manipulate people around you to even out your road ahead. You make demeaning jokes about yourself and you always put yourself down in a comedic manner- and he just doesn't like that. Even so, he still never casts you out, or ignores you. It's odd, because whenever you have one on one interactions, he can't help but feel like you're not the same as with others around. Just like right now.

You're currently all eating at a sushi place - you're sitting across from him, cleavage dangerously exposed, but he's got no right to be offended by it. In a way, he admires the way you seem to be so comfortable. But he can't help but notice the way you keep adjusting your top all the time, tugging and pulling constantly.

If it's making you so fidgety, why wear it? It irritates him a bit. He'll never understand why most girls choose fashion over comfort.

Your best friend Namjoon had told him before that you're actually not like this at all. That you're a great friend, caring and gentle and actually very fragile, and even a little shy and quiet when no one's around - however, Jungkook believes that's just your best friend trying to make you look good. You're totally fine the way you are - you're just too much for him personally. There's nothing wrong with that.

Just because he might not enjoy your personality, doesn't mean you have to change it.

But he doesn't question it, continues to eat and listen in on conversations, laughing along jokes and funny stories. He likes the energy of this. It's unforced, comfortable, easy. He's just about to continue eating, when he notices the glance you throw at his plate, something you've done a couple of times now, seemingly thinking about something, before looking away again, engaging in the conversation as if to distract yourself. "Do you want a piece?" He asks you as soon as there's a good moment, a bit more quiet as to not interrupt the current topic being discussed at the table.

You look at him, wide-eyed just for a second, before you shake your head. "It's fine. I'll maybe try it next time, though." You tell him with a smile. "Does it taste good?" You wonder, and he can't help but be amused. How come you can make straight-up dick-jokes at the dinner table, but you can't accept his offered food that you clearly got your eyes on?

"I don't know if my taste is the same as yours." He shrugs, watching as you chew on the inside of your lip now. "Let's trade, if that makes you feel better." He offers instead, and at that, you visibly perk up, eagerly putting a piece of yours on his plate to receive his.

You're.. kind of cute like this. Oddly so.

He watches without staring too much as you eat his gifted piece of sushi, clearly enjoying the taste of it as you swing your legs under the table a little. "This is good." You comment, making him nod with a smile before you both pay attention to the conversation again.

He doesn't really think much about the whole interaction afterwards.

It's not like it's anything special.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"Ah, fuck." Namjoon curses, looking at his phone. "God, fuck. Yoongi I'm so sorry, I forgot I was supposed to drive with Y/N to her doctor's appointment today." He apologizes, making Jungkook look up from his phone.

"Is it something bad?" Yoongi asks, genuinely a bit concerned as Namjoon just seems unsure.

"We don't know, just a routine thing."He replies. "But you never know. And she's a little anxious, too. I wouldn't want her taking the bus or anything alone in that state." He explains, and everyone seems to agree that that's not a good idea. You're well known to not possess the most basic orientation skills sometimes - and with your head all over the place like this, it could just end with you getting hurt.

"What if I drive her real quick?" Jungkook offers casually, looking up from his phone from where he sits on the small sofa in Yoongi's studio. "You both can continue working, and I didn't have anything to do anyways." He shrugs.

"You know what, great idea." Yoongi chimes up.

"I'll.. text her. See if she's okay with that." Namjoon offers with a little hesitance, making Jungkook wonder how serious this appointment really is. Did you have any health troubles you'd been hiding? He's always been told to never judge a book by its cover. Maybe you were just putting on a tough mask to cover up what you thought was weakness?

Jungkook doesn't believe in that. You've always been this way ever since he'd met you.

"She said she's fine with it." Namjoon sighs after a moment, making Jungkook lock his phone and get up. "Here, let me at least bring you down." Namjoon offers, walking out the studio and towards the underground garage where Jungkook has his car parked. "Listen- can you do me a favor?" He wonders, and Jungkook nods.

"Sure." He says, opening the driver's door to throw his wallet into the back together with his jacket. "What is it?"

"Listen, it's a.. gynecologists' appointment." Namjoon says, quietly so, while Jungkook just.. stares, unable to quite grasp on why his friend would say it in a way that makes it seem as if the word is something you can't ever say out loud. So you're going to a specialist. So what? "It's her first time there. She's honestly terrified, so, if you could maybe go in with her and sit in the waiting room? Just, to keep her mind off of things." Namjoon carefully says.

Again, Jungkook just shrugs, before nodding. "Sure, no issue." He says, getting into the car. "I'll text you when she's back home then. You go up and help Yoongi." He says, before putting his phone into the holder, maps app opened to find where you're waiting.

He's a bit confused inside the car. With the way you're always talking, he'd been sure you would've been a regular at those places. Not because he thought you were a whore, God no, but he just believed until now that you'd be someone who's open and casual with it.

So why are you terrified of a simple doctor's visit?

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"You uhm.. really don't have to." You mumble quietly next to him, anxiously playing with your hands in your lap. You've been quiet the entire time, not really talking at all, and especially not looking at him. He's a little worried about that, wondering if you're maybe in pain, or really unwell in general to the point of changing your personality like this. "I know this must be weird for you." You say quietly.

"Not really, no. I went to one of these with my mom once, so its fine." He shrugs next to you, trying to maybe soothe your nerves by showing you that he's not at all weirded out or uncomfortable. To be honest, he's a bit surprised- because right now, the girl sitting next to him, isn't at all the girl he'd thought he had figured out.

However, he also assumes you might just be heavily uncomfortable with your health, which could add to you just behaving like you do right now. "You feeling okay? Should I ask them how long it's gonna be?" He asks, and you just shake your head.

"No, I can wait." You just say, trying hard to appear unbothered now. "Guess I'm just not really looking forward to a fifty-plus year-old digging around where the light doesn't reach, you know?" You attempt to joke as always, but Jungkook can spot the fakeness of it.

"Joon said it's your first time." He says, locking his phone now before putting it away.

"Son of a bitch." You curse under your breath, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed and legs thrown forwards, heels hitting the floor. You look almost defensive now, as if he'd just insulted you. "Yeah, I didn't need to go until now." You shrug. "But my regular physician keeps bugging me to check some stuff out, and Joon has been bothering me about it too." You say. "Not like he's got anything to do with my vagina for that matter."

"Well, he worries." Jungkook shrugs next to you. "And if you've got health issues, you should always get them checked out for that matter. Could be nothing, could be something. I can understand him." He explains to you. "He cares a lot about you."

"hmhm." You affirm quietly, a bit distant now, staring at the tips of your shoes. "Joon has always been a really good friend." You say, and jungkook nods. Namjoon is the main connection between Jungkook and you- the older guy being somewhat of a brother to him, in a way. He really admired his friend a lot, for his achievements as well as his determination to always better himself. He can't deny that he never really quite understood your friendship with him- with you being so extremely different from him- but he never questioned either. "He's honest." You mumble out, and Jungkook has to agree.

"He is." Jungkook nods, though he feels like there's something more to it. He doesn't get to ask however, because your name is suddenly called- and you jump up, taking a deep breath. "Hey-" Jungkook asks, and you look down to where he sits, as he smiles encouragingly. "-You'll be fine." He promises, and you nod, before disappearing with the nurse into the examination room.

It doesn't take too long for you to emerge back out, a prescription written in front as he gets your coat and walks towards you to the counter. "If it gets any worse, just give us a call, alright?" The nurse asks, and you just quietly nod before you walk out with Jungkook trailing right behind you.

"Everything alright?" He asks, and you nod, though next to him in the car, you run your hands over your face.

"I don't ever wanna go there again." You groan, hands still hiding your face as Jungkook looks at you a bit concerned now.

"Did something happen?" He asks seriously, canceling his action of starting the car.

You take down your hands. "No. It was just.. weird." You say. "The questions were nasty. I don't know." You say quietly, and Jungkook can do nothing but start the car to drive you home. He wishes he could- but at the end of the day, this is something he can't and won't ever really understand fully. He hopes it's just the new experience freaking you out.

Parking in front of your apartment building, you really look a bit terrified now. No longer because of the appointment though- but because of the honestly world-ending rain hitting his car like it's trying to smash it flat into the concrete below. "Its really going hard outside now." Jungkook laughs, but you don't seem to be in a joking manner at all. "If you run you won't get wet."

"I don't want you to drive in this weather." You say meekly, barely able to be heard over the loud rain.

"I'll just wait until it's better." He waves off, looking at you drowned in the orange interior light of his car. You seem to think, before you turn to look at him, eyes reflecting the led lights all around like mirrors. You're really pretty, without all that makeup.

"You can come up? Just, it's cold, and if you leave the car running that's bad for the environment and you're also wasting gas-" you ramble, and he laughs, shutting down the car at that, before grabbing his keys.

"Alright." He shrugs. "If you're cool with that." He asks, and you nod after a moment. He chuckles a bit, before grabbing onto the door handle, still looking at you. "On three?" He asks, and your face lights up in playfulness.

"One?" You start, making him grin.

"Two.." he continues, making you smile as well, before you both pull on the handle.

"Three!"

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Your apartment is everything he did not expect.

"Sorry, it's a bit messy.." you say, taking off your shoes before you slip into the pink slippers close by. The coat hooks on the side of the entrance are cat shaped. The mat where the shoes are put is pink. And from what he can see, everything you have is bright, pastel colored, cute.

Almost innocently so.

You're right and wrong with it being messy, he notices as he walks into the apartment. It's small, but cozy- blankets and round plushies littering the couch close by, kitchen sink containing some dishes you didn't wash or didn't put away yet. It is a bit untidy, but not messy, in his eyes.

It just.. looks like his own apartment. Simply alive.

"Do you.. want tea?" You ask, quietly, and he nods as he walks closer to you in the open kitchen. "I.. have a lot of different flavors so.. just choose one you like." You explain, opening a cabinet that's basically all about tea. Different mugs, mostly animal designs, flower shaped coasters, sugar and many different brands and flavors of tea, boxes a bit unaligned. He pulls out a little baggy of the box that's the most empty, making you smile a bit shyly. "I like that one the most." You admit.

"I assumed. Might as well try it then." He shrugs casually, letting you boil the water while he looks around from his spot. "Your apartment is really nice." He comments.

"Thank you." You answer quietly, pouring the water into the two mugs. "Namjoon sometimes sleeps over because, according to him, my pull-out couch is more comfy than his own bed." You joke, and Jungkook laughs.

"That sounds like him." He nods, accepting the mug before you both walk towards said couch. "Granted, he sleeps on a mattress on the floor though." He tells you.

You laugh. "He's way too much of a cheapskate to buy a bedframe." You shake your head. "He could just buy it and pay it off monthly." You say.

"He could. But I guess we'll never know why he refuses to buy one." Jungkook answers, watching as you toe off your slippers to get more comfortable on the couch next to him- before you put the mug back on the small table, jumping up towards the windows, opening them. "Its still raining heavy." He says, and you nod, turning off the lights, streetlights of the city illuminating the room enough to still see, as you walk back on the couch, pulling a blanket over your shoulders. "What're you doing?" He chuckles when you put one over his shoulders as well.

"I like listening to the rain. And it smells nice." You say, wind blowing into the apartment. "And airing out is important too." You tell him, leaning your head against the backrest of the couch. He nods.

This is nice.

He'd never really thought of those aspects of rain, has always just seen it as bad. It's already slowly stopping to rain so hard, now just a soft mist, but you're right. It smells nice, not like the usual faint city smog, but clean, and fresh. The air might be cold, icy on the tip of his nose, but its also refreshing, calming.

"This is nice." He comments before he turns, noticing a bit of weight on his back. You're asleep, resting against his back, and he uses this moment to look at you a bit.

Maybe Namjoon had been right, he thinks as he adjusts you to lay your head on his thigh, tucking your blanket in around you.

Maybe you're not who he thought you were.

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"What do you mean you were inside her apartment?" Namjoon asks, visibly surprised as he puts down his chopsticks for a moment. "She let you inside?"

"It was raining hard, didn't want to let me drive home, so I had some tea at hers and left later. She fell asleep anyways, she was pretty beat, so I left a note and drove home after closing her windows." Jungkook casually explains, continuing his lunch across his friend.

"You do know she doesn't even let her own mother visit, right?" Namjoon asks, and Jungkook shakes his head.

"No, how would I know?" He says. "From how she acts and speaks, I thought she'd have regular visitors." He says, scooping up some rice as his friend across shakes his head.

"No. She hates visitors. She doesn't even open for the mailman." Namjoon says. "Her apartment is her safety zone. I'm surprised she let you in." He shrugs.

"Maybe you just don't know her that well." Jungkook teases his friend.

"You simply don't know her at all, Jungkook." He says. "Listen.. I, don't know how to say this.. " he starts, and Jungkook raises his brow in confusion.

"I'm not gonna fuck her, if that's what you're worried about." He says, and Namjoon runs a hand over his face.

"Thats.. that wasn't something I was worried about until you mentioned it actually." He mumbles. "So yeah. Don't do that please. And also, don't.. just, don't get too close to her. In general."

"Why?" Jungkook wonders honestly now. "Joon, she's not gonna break my heart or something. I'm an adult man, not a lovesick boy going through puberty. She's not even my type." He laughs.

"Jungkook, I'm serious." The older guy says, picking his chopsticks back up. "Just.. leave it as it is right now."

"What're you worried about?" Jungkook wants to know, finishing his meal as he wipes his hands clean. "You seem so serious about this."

"Because I am." He underlines again. "I told you before, she's not who she pretends she is." He reminds the younger, who leans back, arms crossed.

"What, is she a criminal?" He wonders. "Sells drugs? Owns guns? Criminal record?"

"Theres things I won't tell you cause that's not my right." Namjoon explains. "You're a good guy, I know that, she knows that. But if you get too close, she'll just get attached again." He sighs.

"And?" Jungkook clicks his tongue. "Nothing wrong with that. We're attached too. That's what friendships are. Attachments."

"I meant it as in, more than that." Namjoon mumbles in a somber tone.

"Oh." Jungkook realizes. "I.. don't think I'm her type anyways." He laughs it off, but Namjoon doesn't seem convinced.

"Just.. keep your distance." He warns. "Its for the best."

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Namjoon doesn't tell him anything about you since that day.

You don't seem to hang out with everybody as much, and he himself hasn't seen you in what's been weeks now. Everytime he checks on you via your best friend, all he gets is a short answer that's way too vague to be the actual truth. Jungkook isn't sure why he's so interested in the first place. Maybe it's that small tiny glimpse of you that you've shown him, let him taste, before disappearing from his radar.

It bothers him, mainly because he feels like Namjoon has made him out to be the bad guy that's going to break your heart it seems. He's never given a clear reason why. He's never done anything wrong.

But its not like you've vanished into thin air, and because of pure luck, he spots you in a store he's visiting quite often, crouched down at the plushy-section. He almost didn't recognize you, pastel pink bucket hat and facemask hiding you pretty well- but for some reason, he still somehow knows it's you.

You seem to struggle between buying one or the other, holding both as you glance from one of the plush toys to the other.

"Tough decision, hm?" He asks, careful not to startle you but he still does, the seemingly sudden attack of his voice sending you straight onto your butt from your squatting position. "Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you like that." He chuckles, helping you up and standing.

"No worries. I didn't pay attention." You say, while you hold onto the still packaged stuffed animals. "And uh.. yeah. I was thinking of taking, you know, maybe one." You mumble more or less. "Both are too expensive."

"Yeah, they price these pretty high in my opinion." He affirms, poking one of the plastic bags you're holding. "What's so special about these?" He wonders, and your eyes suddenly grow bigger, hands squishing the thing eagerly.

"They're squishy, and soft!" You explain to him eagerly. "Try it! They're like, I don't know, stress balls or something!" You say, and he does as you say, pulling and pressing down on the round purple creature.

"Hm yeah okay, I can see where you're coming from." He nods, charmed by your cute enthusiasm over the toy. "So, which one you taking?"

"I.. like the color of this one, and its a shark, but the other one is a chicken and cute too.. like, look at those little wings.." you complain, pulling on said wings a bit before you look down. "I don't know."

"Why not buy both and just.. skip out on buying any next month?" He wonders. "Treat yourself. For being brave at the doc's." He chuckles, and you start to fidget on the spot a little.

"They're too expensive." You reason. "If I buy both, I won't have enough money to buy proper groceries next week, and Joon has been bugging me about not eating frozen foods all the time.." you complain.

"Well, he's right, that's not exactly healthy." Jungkook agrees, before taking the chicken from you and turning it to see the price tag. "Its alright. Let me buy it then." He shrugs.

"You- no, you really don't have to." You say.

"I know." He smiles. "But I want to."

You don't say anything. You're not sure Jungkook is aware of what he's doing, supporting your bad habit of buying 'kid's stuff' as Namjoon scolds you constantly. Walking towards checkout, you can't help but wonder. "Did you and Joon fight?" You ask, and Jungkook shrugs.

"Not sure, honestly." He admits. "He's.. I guess he doesn't trust me with you."

"What does you mean?" You wonder in a serious manner, careful to make sure the line keeps moving as you walk next to him towards the cash registers.

"Thats what I'm wondering." He says. "Namjoon seems pretty protective over you. I don't know, usually I'd say he's got the hots for you, but he's with Jin, so that can't be the reason." He tells you, before walking closer to the busy cashier.

"As if anyone's got the hots for me but fourty-plus year old men." You scoff.

"Hey now, don't do that." He clicks his tongue. "I bet most guys are just- intimidated by you. You know." He shrugs, waiting in line next to you with the round chicken plush tucked under his arm. "I know I was."

"Was?" You wonder, and he laughs down at you, his smile almost blinding.

"Yeah, definitely past tense." He jokes. "Now I just think you're cute."

You want to question that further. Suddenly, it's your turn, but Jungkook walks right behind you, pulls out his credit card way before you can grab your wallet, pays for both the stuffed animals and walks you out the store.

"How'd you get here?" He wonders, as you both walk outside.

"Bus." You answer, and he nods.

"You want me to drive you home?" He asks. "I don't mind, it's on the way for me."

"Jungkook.." you suddenly say, voice trembling a little as you stand in front of him at the side of the parking lot. "I.. appreciate your kindness but, uhm.. please don't." You say, and he's a bit taken aback by it.

"Did I do something wrong?" He wonders. "If I came off too strong, I apologize. Really didn't mean to."

"Its just that.. I'm kind of tired getting friendzoned." You laugh bitterly. "Its kind of old at this point. Seeing everyone be nice to you and then move on once they've found their special someone."

"Thats.." he starts, brows all scrunched up as he stands in front of you. "You're not some part-time activity." He explains honestly to you. "I'm not being nice to you to fight my boredom or anything like that. And you're definitely not friendzoned." He chuckles a little.

"I'm always friendzoned." You scoff. "I'm just everyone's little sister, or the lewd one that's always up for a random call when the date doesn't show up." You argue.

"Well, here's the thing." Jungkook tells you, gently uncrossing your arms before placing the two round plushies in each, respectively. "I really don't care what's made you build up that tough mean-girl persona you've created. But I'd like to get to know the girl that's looking at me right now, just like this." He grins, tapping the underside of your chin teasingly. "You're teasing me with those glimpses of you every now and then. I want to know more, if you'd let me."

"That 'me' is boring." You say. "She's childish."

"I've thrown a tamper tantrum before." He shrugs.

"She's stupid." You tell him, but he shakes his head.

"I doubt that. We all got brain-farts every now and then." He crosses his arms, amused smirk on his face at your attempts to drive him away.

"She's cries over Disney movies." You try, and he laughs.

"Hey come on, everyone cries over the fox and the hound!" He simply defends, and you sigh, almost annoyed.

"Jungkook you say all that right now as if it won't end with me hopelessly falling in love with you, while you're gonna leave me behind because 'you're sorry but you've met someone and you're a great friend but nothing more'!" You complain.

"You won't even try and let me love you." He softly says, and you're a little shocked at how easy he says the for you dreaded 'L'-word. It's a big word. A heavy one. "I can't stand here and promise you that I'll fall in love with you, because first and foremost, I don't know you. And you don't know me either." He explains. "But that's something we can change. You just have to let me in."

"And you don't have to let me in?" You try and jab at him, making him laugh.

"I don't have to let you in." He simply says. "You've been seeing who I am the whole time. I'm not hiding anything." He shrugs.

"..." you pull the two stuffed animals a bit closer to yourself, plastic crinkling in your arms before you speak. "What if you don't like who I am?" You wonder quietly.

"Then at least we tried." He offers. "Life is scary. Meeting new people is scary. Letting people go is scary." He softly explains. "But if you just hide away from those things, you'll also miss out on opportunities to experience something great. Meet someone special. Or create a memory you'll never forget."

"So you're saying you already know you won't like me?" You say, now just being stubborn to see what he does.

"Stop putting words into my mouth you brat." Be laughs. "I don't like the 'you' that you force yourself to be. I know that for sure." Jungkook tells you, grabbing his car keys from his pant pocket. "But I feel like I'm gonna like this you that's right in front of me right now a lot."

He speaks bold, appears honest. You're still not sure if you trust him. And namjoon had told you to really keep him at distance, stay on high alert of anything.

But somehow, he's caught you, sticky like honey already staining your skin.

And you've always had a sweet tooth.

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It kind of feels like sneaking around.

Even though right now, you're doing nothing naughty at all, not even remotely. Jungkook is simply helping you cook, watches the pizza in the oven before he puts the mitts to the side. "You got a timer set?" He wonders, and you nod.

"I've got it to the full time for now, let's hope we don't forget the check every now and then." You say, and he nods, walking into the living room with you. The smell of food is already slowly invading your space, and you open a window to make sure it airs out before you'll go to bed later.

He's staying over. You're surprisingly calm about it.

On the couch, he's looking at you from the side. "What?" You wonder, and he shrugs.

"I'm just wondering." He says. "Why do you act so differently around others?"

"Because everyone walks over you when you're soft." You explain, pulling your legs closer to yourself next to him. "No one takes you seriously. You're just the quiet girl and nothing interesting. No one cares." You mumble.

Jungkook wants to tell you that's not true, but he knows that he'd be wrong. It's sad that soft hearts get put in a hard shell because of what most people think should be an admirable personality. Someone strong doesn't have to be someone who's always bold and loud.

When his fingers find your knee, you stiffen. It makes him question out loud what he's been having on the tip of his tongue for a while now, ever since arriving at your place. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" He wonders, and you shake your head- before shrugging, unsure. "You're a bit confusing. In a way, cause you seem like you want me close, but when I am, you start to look all cornered, just like now." He wonders.

"Yeah well.. when a guy touches me, it's always been just for that." You say. "You know. Sex."

His face becomes serious. You notice quickly how that sounded.

"Nothing bad ever happened! Not really." You admit. "But it's.. I guess I should've told you right from the start. So you won't get your hopes up." You sigh. "I don't.. want to have sex."

"Okay." He says. "Neither do I right now. I just want to touch you. Nothing else."

"Yeah no, I mean it as in- not right now, probably not anytime soon, maybe never?" You ask more or less. "I've.. never had sex before. And at this point it feels like I've just passed all the opportunities to have it with anybody."

"Do you dislike the thought of it?" He wonders. "What's making you uncomfortable about it?"

"I.. guess I'm scared it'll be awkward?" You say, wiggling your feet a bit. "What if I don't like something, for example? Or if I make a weird sound, or, I don't know, don't cum or you don't cum and then it's all wasted time and just awkward.." you try and explain.

"You're intimidated by it." He sums it up for you, and you nod. "Thats fine. First's are scary, no matter what kind."

"I'm an adult." You conquer. He laughs.

"I'm one too, and I'm still freaked out by shit!" He laughs. "But, to get back to the topic, I'm okay with that."

"Okay with not having sex?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I mean, I get it's important for most people, and I like the intimacy of it, yeah. But it's not a necessity." He shrugs. "I can jerk myself off just fine."

You deflate a little, both because you feel more calm now, but also because you don't know how to tell him you might be interested in the entire topic. But it seems like he can read minds.

"We can also, you know, ease into it." He offers. "Doesn't have to be all hard-core bondage first time." Jungkook laughs. "You okay with this whole discussion?" He gently asks, and you nod.

You're weirdly alright with it.

"So let's like- what do you like?" He wonders. "As in, when you masturbate, what's something you enjoy?"

You cringe a bit. He laughs. You're cute.

"I.. uh.." you stammer, voice a lot more quiet now. "I've got like, a vibrator? That's nice." You shrug. "Other than that, uhm, just my hand. You know. Basic stuff."

Jungkook nods. "Ever put something in?"

"It.. uh. Dunno. Never really came from it alone." You say. "Which is also why I think sex with me is gonna be weird because I've never really gotten myself off on just that." You say.

"Doesn't mean anything." He shakes his head. "The mood, foreplay, all of that makes a huge difference. That and the fact that someone else is doing it. I remember my first handjob I got. It was weird as fuck, even though technically I should've been used to it." He laughs. "I think what personally scared me most was just being naked I guess." He offers some past fears of his own.

You nod at that. "Same."

"You're pretty tough." He smiles. "I'm not just saying that. I think you're pretty, with clothes and without as well." He flirts.

"I'm still not having sex with you." You defend yourself, and he shrugs, smiling still.

"I know." He tells you. "I'm still fine with that."

It's quiet for a moment, until you speak up again. You're not sure why you're bringing it up again when you could've just let it go, because clearly you've always been against the idea of having sex with someone. But with Jungkook, for some reason, it's so easy to talk about all of this.

"I.. you said you'd ease into it " you mumble quietly. He nods. "How?"

"I could just jerk you off." He shrugs. "Simple hand job. Clothes can stay on."

"And then?" You wonder.

"Then what?" He chuckles. "The you'll know if you like someone else doing something like that for you." He offers.

"What if I'll fall in love with you then?" You quietly ask, and he impishly smiles.

"Then I've done one he'll of a good job." He jokes, before looking at you more seriously. "In all seriousness though. I wouldn't mind you falling in love with me."

"I can tell." You say, looking away. "You're easy to love."

"Thank you." He offers. "You're very easy to fall in love with too."

"That makes no sense." You roll your eyes. "Love and lust aren't the same. You just want to screw me."

"Do I?" He raises his brows. "Can't lie and say you're not physically attractive to me. But I stand by what I said. If you don't want sex, I won't ask for it."

"You'll just end up leaving me for someone who wants it." You bitterly laugh. He doesn't look happy.

"No." He says. "Okay, do you want be with me? Emotionally, I mean?" He asks you, and you look at him wide eyes. "Yes, I'm asking you out here."

"I-" you stammer, caught off guard. "Yeah?"

"Is that a question or an answer?" He teases, making you whine.

"Maybe? Yes?" You try again, but he just shakes his head.

"Alright." He simply answers. "I'll go look, see if the pizza is burned yet. You calm down, I think I've riled you up enough." He laughs, hand on your shoulder for just a second before he leaves you to yourself, giving you some breathing room.

It gives you time to think.

You like him. He's a nice guy, good looking too, and he seems honest about his intentions. You don't love him yet, but its clear that he's easy to fall in love with. But isn't love a requirement to start a relationship? Can you just get together and then fall in love?

You're not sure. But you also want to find out.

So when he emerges from your kitchen, you call out to him. "I want to." You say, and he looks at you wide eyed for just a moment, before he seems to realize what you're talking about. "I.. wanna be with you." You say.

And he smiles, grins brightly, like a kid just being offered a trip to Disney world.

"Okay."

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"Everything alright?" He chuckles, voice breaking the silence in the darkened living room. "I can hear you creeping around."

It's true, you've been trying to keep quiet because you really don't know how to ask this. It's been bugging you for hours now, there's no way it seems you'll be able to fall asleep without at least attempting to solve this issue. But how do you ask for it?

He'd asked you out. You're together now, right?

"I- uh.." you wonder quietly, navigating slowly towards the pull-out couch where he's laying on. "Just wanted to see if everything's alright." You chicken out last moment, and he laughs softly.

"I'm alive and well." He answers you, before he throws back one side of the blankets, patting the spot next to him. "You wanna sleep here?" He wonders, and you sigh.

"How come you know that?" You almost whine, walking closer before you crawl underneath the warmed up blankets he'd been resting under. "Thanks." You say, but he shakes his head.

"No problem. You can come closer, too." He tells you more quietly now that you're already laying next to him.

It takes a moment for you. You're not sure how close you want to get, how close he will let you- so you slowly scoot forwards, inching closer like a scared animal before you finally settle with your head on the inside of his shoulder, arm over his middle. "Is that okay?" You wonder. He nods.

"Definitely." He answers. "Do you cuddle a lot?" He wonders, and you shake your head.

"I've not.. cuddled with anybody since I was a child." You admit. "So I.. jungkook, I'm gonna need a lot of help for this." You confess quietly. "I don't know how this works. How I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what's right and what's not."

"Thats fine." He reassures you.

It's a little silent after that. You don't know what to say, how to ask. Isn't it weird now? Won't you move too fast? "What's going on in there." He teases, finger flicking your head rather gently. You move around a little uncomfortably. He notices right away. "Not good? You can go back to your bed if it's not comfortable." He offers.

"I don't know.." you say, unsure how to put it in words. "..I'm still thinking about what you said. Earlier." You mumble.

"What exactly?" He wonders quietly.

"The uhm.. you know. Sex part." You stammer out.

"I really don't need it." He chuckles. "Might be hard to grasp but if you don't want it I won't bother you with it."

"I want to." You say. It's dead quiet for a moment before you continue. "Like.. how you said. You know, start small, and all that." Tou explain.

"Okay." He answers after a moment. "Right now?" He asks. You nod.

"I just.. don't know what to do. And I didn't shave- oh God okay no maybe some other day then-" you ramble, he laughs.

"Who cares if you shave?" He jokes easily. "Its fine by me. I don't mind it." He tells you.

"You're weird." You cringe a bit. "Guys don't like that-"

"Maybe you've just met idiots then." He shrugs. "I'm honest here. I don't care if you shave or not. You could dye that hair downstairs pink, who am I to tell you what your body has to look like?" He scoffs playfully, making you laugh a little.

This is why you like him. He's easy. Simple. Comfortable.

"Do you want me to use something? Or just my hand?" He wonders quietly, and you just shrug.

"I wanna.. you know. Know if I like what you do." You offer, and he hums an affirmative reply at that, hand under the covers feeling for your thigh.

"You can stop me at any time." He almost whispers. "It won't be awkward, I promise." He assures, and you nod, letting his palm explore under the covers. You're not sure if he's careful or just plain teasing- but most of all, it's strangely exciting.

He moves you a bit, pulls you closer, eyes searching for ant signs of discomfort. "Jungkook..?" You ask quietly, and he chuckles a bit before nodding. "..can you uhm.. maybe kiss me?" You wonder, and there's no reaction for a moment, until he moves again, adjusts himself so he can properly angle himself, lips meeting yours carefully so.

The first one feels weird. You're unsure. You lift your head in a moment if bravery to try again, and it gets more comfortable.

It's nice.

He seems amused, but not at you - more at the fact that you're a lot more independent than you might've thought you'd be in a situation like this.

You're leading him. You're probably not aware, but your body language and responses all speak clearly to him about what you enjoy and what you don't. At first, he stops any advances, but you whine for him to continue. "Just.. cold hands."

"Sorry." He chuckles. "My fingers are pretty cold sometimes." He jokes. You nod, breathing a bit heavier now as soon as his hands warm up, slowly traveling underneath your underwear, middle finger easily finding your most sensitive spot. "Feeling good?" He wonders, and you nod, squirming around a bit.

"More." You ask, moving around a little, seemingly unsure where to put your limbs. He's doing it very differently from how you'd do it- but it's nice. He's making you feel good, not just in lust, but also in general.

There really isn't anything weird about it.

Or maybe your brain is just a bit foggy.

You want to stop him suddenly, feeling too sensitive, and he does halter his movements to check in with you. "What's wrong?" He asks.

"Weird. Sensitive- I.. don't know." You say. "I feel like I'm gonna pee or something." You say.

"Have you ever had an orgasm before?" He wonders, and you suddenly think. Have you? You're not sure.

"I.. don't know." You say.

"Hm." He cocks his head to the side a little, amused look on his face. "Lets see then." He almost challenges, resuming his activities, making you squirm yet again as you feel like something might be happening. Your back arches, and suddenly, you're not sure why you can't help but gasp out, his movements perfectly stable as pleasure rolls over you in waves. "There we go." He laughs, watching as you slowly come back down.

"Thank you.." you say breathlessly, before cringing at the sight of his glistening hand. "Uhm.. do you want me to do something too.?"

"It's okay." He says. "I've enjoyed watching you. That's enough." Jungkook chuckles, before pulling back the covers. "No, clean up. I gotta wash my hand and change too." He laughs, slapping your thigh with his clean hand.

"Change?" You wonder, standing up and cringing at the slippery feeling between your legs.

"I told you." He laughs, and only now do you notice a wet spot on his sweatpants as he'd turned on the lights. "I really enjoyed myself as well."

♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He's warm.

His arm lays heavy over your body, breathing soft and barely noticeable on the skin of your neck. Jungkook has slept close to you the entire night, didn't mind when you stole the blanket from him it seems. He's holding onto you, face clear of any worry, no muscle tensed as he sleeps.

He slowly seems to wake up, pulls you closer for a moment as he stretches his limbs and back, before his tired eyes open. "Hey." He greets with a raspy voice.

"Hey." You quietly greet back. He chuckles.

"How do you feel?" He wonders, pulling you closer with a sleepy grin.

"Good. Happy." You say.

"In love?" He wonders.

You nod.

And he smiles, brighter than the sun already high up in the sky outside your window.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff

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