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rinusagitora · 10 months ago

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Eau de Vie Poire

Fandom: Bleach Characters: Toushirou Hitsugaya, Karin Kurosaki, Momo Hinamori, Kisuke Urahara, Jinta Hanakari, Ururu Tsumugiya Pairings: HitsuKarin Words: 3.8k Summary: Karin got into college and Toushirou's had an okay growth spurt, so they're doing pretty good as far as he's concerned. What better Christmas present is there than boning your girl for the first time? Warnings: ABSOLUTELY shameless smut. AO3: works/52817095 A/N: HKGE 2023 gift for PinkDreamTiger on twt!

Momo's complaints become fog in the wintry air. "Lord," she says, "it's bitter today! Ugh, if spring doesn't spare us this torment...."

"You're all pink," he teases while elbowing her ribs. "Frostbite will soon take your nose."

"What? Lord, you're so mean," she hisses. "At least I don't have some freakish tolerance for this weather! Your eyelashes have frosted and you're fine with a light coat!"

He deserved that.

But he doesn't have any acerbity left inside of him. Sousuke took his sister from him for so long, destroyed reality, and replaced it with his mechanizations. It drove Momo mad for a few months. Their relationship wasn't repaired for years. But they're together again, brother and sister. It's all he wants now.

She stops outside of the Senkaimon and hugs him. "I love you, Toushirou, my brother," she says while cupping his cheeks. "I do hope you enjoy your vacation."

Toushirou hugs her. "I'll miss you, Onee. I hope you and your husband enjoy New Year's."

"We will. I'll see you next year."

"Yeah, see you next year."

It only takes him a few minutes to emerge in the World of the Living. He's met by Kisuke Urahara in his shop's otherworldly basement. Toushirou still isn't sure how he feels about Kisuke. He always gets the jeebies from Kisuke, but what unknown doesn't give anyone the jeebies? His girlfriend seems to like Kisuke and his company well enough, anyway.

"Hello, Hitsugaya-kun," Kisuke says while unfurling his fan. "Are you traveling with Jinta and Ururu today?"

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou," he says. "But yes. We agreed to go to Karin-chan's together. We're doing a gift exchange at her place."

"Ururu told me about it," Kisuke says. He claps his fan shut on his palm. "I'm just glad you all have each other. Our kids never had real friends before you and Karin-chan, you know."

Toushirou smiles. This is one of the reasons he can't bring himself to entirely hate Kisuke and his family. Yes, he's old, but living in the body of a boy forever has made him feel like a boy lost in a sea of far more experienced elders. But Jinta, Karin, and Ururu have made Toushirou feel less of an arbiter and more of an actual fucking person.

He slips into his gigai and meets Jinta and Ururu upstairs. She hugs him.

"Happy Christmas, Toushirou-kun," she says. Jinta proceeds to clap him on the back.

"Hey, man, how goes?" he says.

"Am I too early?" Toushirou asks.

"Naw," Jinta replies. "We ain't even doing, like, dinner."

"We are, she's just ordering pizza. Well, pizza and ribs," Ururu says.

Toushirou laughs. "Good by me." He definitely won't turn his nose up at home cooking, but the discovery of pizza altered his entire worldview for the better.

Apparently, it'll just be the four of them. Ururu tells him that Ichigo and his wife are seeing her family. Isshin and Yuzu are in Okinawa. Originally, Karin was supposed to join them, but couldn't schedule it around her classes. Which is fine by him. Toushirou isn't Ichigo's biggest fan. Ichigo was weird when Toushirou first started dating Karin. Were it about him being in his eighties, whereas Karin only turned eighteen in May, Toushirou would completely understand. But Ichigo seems to think Karin is in jeopardy in Toushirou's custody like he's going to deflower her. Toushirou knows he isn't a force to be reckoned with, but he's seen how Karin treats hollows and he's pretty sure Karin would snap his spine without a second thought and step over his corpse.

Karin waits outside the gateway of the Kurosaki home while tapping away on her iPhone. Once they're closer, she stands, waves, and hugs each of them.

"Hey, guys," she says. When Toushirou is kissed by her, he gets butterflies. "C'mon in. I know it isn't, like, homemade, but we don't want a repeat of the last time I tried cooking, do we?"

"I'm fine with 'za," Jinta replies.

"Agreed," Toushirou says. He's not one to turn his nose up at home-cooked meals, but the discovery of pizza altered his entire worldview for the better.

Karin dishes everyone a slice before taking a seat on the floor and adjusting her shorts. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble coming here during the holidays," she says.

"Not at all. Shit's always slow in winter. No one wants to go out when it's cold outside." Toushirou's shoulders bob while he folds his slice. "The real question is how it's going on your guys' end. I imagine the holidays are much harder as a student."

"I expected it to be harder. I'm not saying it's breezy or anything, but I'm able to pump out what I gotta to make time for myself." Karin proceeds to take a huge bite. Jinta kicks her foot under the table.

"At least you've got prospects," he says, sighing. "I think I'm doomed to work at my dads' shop for the rest of my natural life."

Toushirou cocks his eyebrow. "What? He didn't forge you guys' documents or something?"

"We haven't asked. It feels... ungrateful," Ururu says.

Jinta sighs. "Yeah. I mean... they've done lots for us." He kicks his legs onto the coffee table. "Asking 'em for a way out just feels like a massive fuck you, y'know?"

Toushirou pats his shoulder.

"Aaanyway," Karin says, "I got everyone's presents here! Hang tight. I'll grab them."

Jinta practically inhales the rest of his slice. "Hang on, I'm coming. I saw something huge in there earlier."

"I can carry it," Karin laughs.

"It's not heavy, it's just huge. You're gonna roll an ankle, man."

Toushirou stands, takes Ururu's plate, and grabs another slice for each of them. "Your brother's matured a lot."

"He has," Ururu agrees while she takes her plate. "I think having you and Karin has helped. Being konpaku divorces you from humanity, but..." she trails off while picking up her slice, and smiles. She's pretty while ruminating. Not the same way Karin is pretty. Toushirou is pretty sure Ururu isn't interested in dating men anyway. Rather, Ururu's pretty in the way serenity is pretty. The kind of pretty that makes him envious. "But having you guys makes us feel normal, y'know?"

"I do."

There comes a crash and a storm of colorful language, some of which Toushirou hasn't heard before. Jinta and Karin can be spectacularly creative with their vernacular. Toushirou and Ururu share a bemused glance before setting their food aside and journeying upstairs.

"I told you it was cumbersome," Jinta barks while he and Karin squat to pick up a dented present wrapped in red and white paper.

"Oh, shut it, dumbass! If I didn't have you to contend with, I could've done this so easily!"

"Quit arguing," Ururu groans. She strides between them and lifts it with ease Toushirou isn't sure he could accomplish with any meaningful results. Another reason to envy Ururu. It just seems to embarrass Jinta and Ururu, however.

Toushirou helps carry the rest of the presents downstairs. Karin pushes aside the table before setting the pile down and sorting through them.

"Um, okay, these two are your's, Toushirou," Karin says while she passes a pair of boxes in peppermint and pink wrapping paper. He can tell you almost instantly these were wrapped by Jinta and Ururu respectively.

It's better than Toushirou's brown paper, at least.

Karin passes out the rest of the presents before they begin opening them. Of course, Ururu starts with her enormous present, peeling off the striped paper, popping open the box, and sliding out a foam structure. She gasps and applauds.

"Oh my god, how did you get this?" she gasps as she pries a massive assault rifle out of the foam. Toushirou's jaw hits the deck.

Jinta merely sniffs with a snide smirk. "Oh, I made it. Although, Dad helped with the smaller parts. But I did the heavy lifting. He just read the instructions. We tested it and everything so it's a fully operational killing machine."

"That's a really thoughtful gift, but my dad would kill me if he found out we had a gun in here," Karin hisses. Ururu slips it into its sleeve.

Jinta receives a pair of gauges from Karin and gushes about how long he's wanted to pierce his ears, a pair of reflective sunglasses Toushirou found for him a couple of months ago, and apparently, Ururu bought him a baseball signed by someone famous as Toushirou is fairly certain sent Jinta straight to Heaven. Ururu's remaining gifts are necklaces he bought at a flea market and a pearl-handle knife from Karin. Toushirou becomes increasingly concerned by the amount of weapons Ururu has amassed today alone.

Karin makes Toushirou open his presents next. Jinta and Ururu bought him a spectacular tapestry of dragons.

"The authenticator-guy said it's a relic from the seventeen hundreds. We saw it and it was so you," Ururu explains.

"I'm surprised you could even afford this," he says.

"The vendor owed our family a favor, so he was happy to discount it," Jinta says while he rolls it and drops it into the tube.

Karin is beaming when he opens her present. It's a ring box with a trio of rings. By far, his favorite is the dragon head in silver. Hyourinmaru is even pleased, purring within him like a cat.

He's never considered accessorizing, but this changes his mind with this.

"Oh, wow," he says, slipping them onto his fingers and watching them glint in the overhead lights, "this is... these are spectacular, babe."

"I'm glad you like them," Karin replies. She's practically glowing and it's making him flutter. "I was worried they wouldn't be your thing, but Ururu said they'd still be nice decorative pieces, if you so chose."

"I love them," he promises.

He loves her more than anything, he thinks.

Eventually, they begin chatting. Jinta and Ururu excuse themselves later in the evening, leaving him and Karin alone in the home. Perhaps it's the hormones of nascent manhood, but it gives him ideas that set his heart pounding.

Karin slips onto his lap and folds her alabaster legs one over the other. His hand lays on her thigh while she kisses him.

Can she feel his heart pounding? The thought makes him paranoid.

"I'm glad you got to come today," she says. Her elbow lays on the cushion and she sets her temple on her fist. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he replies. Her eyes are steel gray but somehow soft. He could swim in them like mercury. "I love you."

Karin kisses him. Her arms fall around his shoulders. It makes him inflate. She laughs while he adjusts his hips. It makes him worry he's inadequate.

"What?" he says.

"Nothing," Karin promises. Her hand falls down his neck and chest while they resume kissing. Her lips are soft, and her tongue laps at his lips.

Frenching once sounded unappealing, but as Karin presses past his teeth, he wants to smack his past self for being a goddamn fool.

They fall onto his back. Toushirou's fingers find her knees and pull them towards his pits so her pelvis lays flat on his lap. She giggles.

"What?" he croaks. Karin kisses his jaw and hums.

"You've just got wood."

"I-Is it, like, small or something?"

"Not at all." Karin sits up. Her nails scrape down the front of his shirt and it makes him buck. He wants to take it off so he can feel it on his skin entirely uninterrupted. He's stopped when Karin's fingers loop under the hem of her shirt. He's so excited he's almost sick. Almost. When she whips off her shirt, revealing a sports bra pressing her tits up and in, he salivates, but she's far from finished.

"H-hang on," she says. "This is always the hard part..." It takes her a minute to pull off her bra. Her shoulder pops as she pulls it off her bulbous chest and she grunts while pushing it over her head. Her breasts fall over her ribs, nearly reaching her navel. Her nipples are milk chocolate on her breasts. He reaches to pet its peak with his knuckle, and throbs under her pussy when meeting her soft flesh billowing around him.

"God, you're gorgeous," he remarks airily. It's like a dream here.

Karin smiles. "I figured you'd enjoy yourself."

She dips and kisses him again. Her hair falls around their face and he hugs her, flattening her breasts against his, drawing his fingers up and down the dimple of her spine. She hums and purrs.

"I should probably take you upstairs," he says. He kisses her neck before digging his teeth in. Karin's moan echoes against the walls. "This can't be comfortable for your back."

"Okay," she says.

It's a little awkward trying to stand up with her in his lap, but he's able to carry her by the backs of her thighs while they giggle and race upstairs. Toushirou fumbles with her doorknob before Karin reaches behind her and opens it herself. He stumbles inside and falls hard onto her mattress which squeals like a rodent beneath their descent, but she kisses him and keeps her legs loop around his hips, grinding his length against her while he's tongued.

"Sweet lord," he shudders. There's no way he can keep up like this. Her crotch makes his underwear sticky with precum, and he can already see himself driving into her pussy while her eyes roll back in her head and her tits rock like the tide.

Toushirou sinks to his knees in front of the bed. Her legs pull his shirt up to his pits until Karin apologizes and unhooks him. He whips it off and tosses it to one side.

With her legs open, Toushirou unties her shorts. Karin lifts her hips up while he pulls them down past her knees. He kisses the inside of her knee while she pulls her feet out and she giggles.

The exterior doesn't look like anything he imagined. He knows a lot of girls shave, but he didn't anticipate there there being two sets of lips, let alone the inside lips are longer than the outside lips. He pushes it apart with his thumbs and finds two holes, which makes way less gross than peeing and fucking with the same hole. When he kisses the exterior, it's a little prickly, on the outside, but the inside is smooth, plush, and wet. Toushirou is reminded here that he genuinely has no fucking clue what he's doing, but he hikes her legs over his shoulders, draws his tongue up and down the inside of her lips, and hopes for the best.

It's a strange taste. Not something he dislikes, but not something he's going out of his way for. Now, the way she shudders and slips her fingers in his hair is something he'll be coming back for time and again.

Karin says, "You're too low," and her fingers slip under his chin. She lifts him to an inflamed piece of her cunt. "Concentrate on-- oh god," she says.

He gets the point. Toushirou eagerly laps at the swollen hood of her clit and wants so badly to stroke himself but finds himself lacking while multitasking. He can come later. Right now, he just wants to see Karin squirming in ecstasy.

"Yesss," she says while pushing him by the back of his head against her. "Oh, baby, you're-- oh god," Karin's side curls towards her hips. One of her hands covers her mouth while she moans. He grabs her wrist and pries it off her. Instead, she props herself on her elbows and shakes. "Oh, that's good honey, that's good..."

He could purr like a cat now. Her approval has always given him stirrings, but this makes him drip.

"Keep it up, just like that," she says. He picks up the pace and she smacks him. "I didn't say faster, I said to-- ohhh, you're a quick study, Toushirou, you're a-- oh my god--"

She falls onto her back and her legs extend. He knows she said to keep doing as he was, but he pushed up her hood with his thumb to reveal the head of her clit and rubs it with his tongue. She pushes him hard against her, fingers splayed against the back of his head like she palms a basketball, and pleads, screams, for him to keep going until her breath is gone and all that's left are long moans. She writhes as he rides through her climax, milking it for everything, for every appraisal he'll receive once she finishes.

She pushes him off her cunt and he catches strings of her orgasm before licking his lips. She bites her lip with a heady gaze. "That... that was... wow," she says. His chest swells and he smirks. "Go rinse your mouth out. We're not finished."

Toushirou wants to keep the taste a little longer, but he's beholden to Karin's orders, functionally enslaved to her whims. He rinses his mouth before blotting his face dry and staring at his erection in the mirror in the bathroom. There's a wet trickle meandering towards his sac. He's got no idea where this is going but likes it. She could collar him and he'd be damn grateful.

He returns to Karin's bedroom to find her on all fours with her ass in the air. Toushirou runs his fingers through his hair and turns away with a string of swears.

He definitely could've seen this coming, and it's something he wants, but this is his first time. He knows from whatever gross boy-talk from the academy and the office that men don't last long. She's way out of his league and this is probably the most terrifying thing to end tonight would be to come prematurely. And, yeah, she's come already, and he's definitely going to come, but it seems unfair to take a pounding and not get anything out of it.

Karin finds him outside the door. Her eyebrows are upturned. "Did I come on too strongly?" she asks.

"What? No," he replies, "I'm just... really, really close to finishing and it's... it's embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed," she says. Her palm glides across his shoulders. "It's... I mean, I've fingered myself, but it hasn't really gone anywhere. This is for you, honey. I wanna fuck you."

He blows air through his lips. He knows she doesn't mean to, but there is something spectacularly seductive about how it's said. Maybe it's the candor.

He kisses her before she pushes him inside. Karin pulls him onto her like a blanket. They part from their kisses, only briefly, so Toushirou can feel for her entrance with the head of his cock in hand. He thinks he's found it for a moment and slides forward, but it's only her lips and she laughs when he slips onto her pubic bone. It makes him hot with shame.

"Hey, it's okay, here." Karin folds her knees to her chest. It spreads her and gives him better access. Toushirou is easily able to slip inside of her.

The clinical technicalities are easily described. She's soaking wet and pillowy. The feeling, on the other hand, is ineffable. He moans as warmth and relief and need overcomes him, and inadvertently gyrates. Toushirou has to anchor himself on his forearms on either side of her head and take a breather.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Better than okay, I'm just trying not to come just yet," he says as he lays his forehead on her breast. The hum Karin utters gives him the impression she's impatient and his performance anxiety returns.

He kisses her with tongue and slowly rolls his hips forward. Her splayed hands run down his spine and onto his buttocks, where her fingers and nails dig crescents into him. He pushes his weight onto his hands to free his bottom side of his weight for thrust. The friction of pistoning into her is ecstasy. Toushirou moans, hard, basking in her. Karin's hands float onto the back of his shoulders and she joins in Toushirou's noise-making. He parts to see her eyes have shut.

"Harder," Karin tells him, and it sends electricity down his spine. Toushirou picks up the pace and the sound of clapping flesh-on-flesh and the squeal of her box spring.

"God, yes," Karin hisses. Her arms fall back, so Toushirou pins her legs up by the backs of her knees and resumes. His back and abs burn, but god, does he feel great. He feels his orgasm build and coil inside of his pelvis. "Oh, don't fucking stop, Toushirou, you're-- oh god," she continues while writhing. Karin founds herself while her eyelids flutter. Her gorgeous, steel-gray irises have rolled into the back of her head.

The visage makes him snap and he shakes. For a moment, his rhythm stutters while ejaculating. It's like high tide overcomes him, an orgasm better than whatever mediocre results onanism gives him. But he can't stop. At minimum, he wants the bragging rights to making her come twice in less than ten minutes, and be able to prove it to a skeptical audience.

For the second time that night, Karin tremors and chokes and utters long, deep, hoarse moans, as musical as her squealing bedsprings. She's shivering around him, milking his cock, and it's like a dam breaks.

He tries to keep pace while spilling into her, so Karin's orgasms can be as good as his is, because it's magical. It's the best thing he's felt in years.

It ends. He falls onto her mattress and pants like he ran a marathon. Karin swings her arm over him and kisses his eyelids.

"You're a fucking Olympian," she giggles while turning onto her back. He likes how her breasts jiggle.

"I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did," he confesses while rubbing his cheek against her pillow. Her praise makes him flutter inside. "The fuck did we wait so long to do this?"

"Oh, I would've been so bad."

"The great part of owning a pussy is the impossibility of being bad in bed from what I've been told."

She laughs. "Fair enough... let's wash up. I need to run out for some morning-after pills."

He looks down at his flaccid penis. "Does this even, like, work like that?"

"Good point. I'm not sure... I'll ask Urahara-san. Can you start the bath for me while I call?"

It feels weird to talk to Kisuke about their sex life, but there's no one else to ask, so he starts the bath. She comes back a few minutes later and pulls her hair tie out and shakes out her hair. She's beautiful like this, he thinks. He'll never understand why men complain about their wives. Karin kisses him, tells him he doesn't have any potency, and Toushirou's pretty certain he wouldn't care either fucking way, because this woman is the one of his dreams.

#bleach #hitsukarin #toshiro hitsugaya #karin kurosaki #hitsukarin gift exchange 2023 #eau de vie poire means pear liquor fyi #I'm Hilarious

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angie-j-kay · 1 year ago

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Okay, here are my takes from Barbenheimer, and the messages the movies seem to be pushing:

Spoilers under the cut.

Oppenheimer:

If you're autistic, have anxiety, or are generally sensitive to loud scary noises, be warned that this might set you off. This was very much a horror movie, disguised as a historical thing. Also, Christopher Nolan music is Christopher Nolany. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

The great horror wasn't that the people involved were monsters, it was that they were just people. ANYONE handed enough fear and desperation risks becoming this. Yes, even you.

If the monster feels really, really bad about it after, is he still a monster? (Answer: YES, but you still paid to see this movie so now you're culpable too.)

A discussion of how responsible scientists are for what the powerful and cruel do with their inventions.

Ian Malcolm in the first Jurassic Park movie was right. "You were so preoccupied with whether or not you could, you didn't stop and think if you should!"

Hey, it's that actor I had such a crush on when I was 14 and wow, he got old, and OH SHIT I'M OLD TOO... It doesn't matter which actor I'm talking about, MOST of them were that actor to someone or other.

Florence Pugh has nice tits, and Robert Downey Jr. should play more villains. Also, David Krumholz is slowly turning into Alfred Molina.

Spoiler alert: BOOM.

Men suck.

Barbie: This one's gonna get me SO MUCH HATE, because y'all love Barbie, but I'm gonna do it anyway.

They told me it was an empowering movie for women and girls to watch. I went through the whole thing, and was rather insulted by this claim. Yeah, the idea of "women can be whatever we want" was repeated over and over, but the actual movie showed very little of that. Only the DOLLS got to be what they wanted, not the "Real Women."

Barbie not having a vagina is played for laughs, and the first thing that happens when she becomes a Real Woman (Yes, this is a plot point.) is... going to the gynecologist, with her new vagina and uterus. The Mattel board meeting actually had a man ask "I'm a man with no power, does that make me a woman?" How Tumblr hasn't caught the transphobia there is beyond me.

Ha ha, pregnant Midge! Loved that!

Feminism is important, because the patriarchy hurts... Ken. And the other Kens. Look, I get that this plot point was aimed SOLELY at the men who were watching this movie, trying to force them to imagine the role reversal and see how awful it is, but it doesn't change the fact that the main plot point of a supposedly feminist movie was clearly targeted at men. Like... come on.

Why is Will Ferrel here? You could have replaced him with a broken lamp in the corner and the movie would have been just fine.

I can't think of a single time that Barbie invited Ken's company. He pursued her, and she tolerated him because that was just sort of her role and she felt she had to. He respected none of her boundaries, just constantly tried to push past them. Then when he went full incel to the point of violence (Yes, I count brainwashing and enslavement as violence and you should too.) and she defeated him, he threw a screaming, public, self-hatred tantrum until SHE was apologising to HIM and consoling HIM, just a few minutes of screen time after a rant about how unfair it is that women are held responsible for men's bad behavior.

Ruth - "I can't let you become a real woman without you understanding what that means." Ruth - shows a montage of babies and motherhood, with some random crap tacked on the end in hopes that we won't notice that.

Being vocally angry about the patriarchy, racism, and enforced femininity is for dumb, angry teenagers with daddy issues who don't know anything about anything, and growing up into REAL feminism involves pink dresses.

The Velveteen Rabbit walked so that Weird Barbie could somersault while doing the splits.

I did cry when Barbie saw the old woman for the first time and called her beautiful. That was nice.

The boy bands of the early 2000s are finally explained.

The only way out of the patriarchy is by women talking to each other and working together, then... men saying they're sorry and totally promising never to do that again. Because that always works.

I mean, the movie wasn't terrible. It just wasn't made for feminists. It was made to get men angry enough to go see the movie so they'd have something to make angry podcasts about, in hopes that a few of them would start to think about what garbage they're spewing. Also, to sell toys, Hummers and Birkenstocks.

Also, I'm not sure this was Greta Gerwig's fault. This whole thing reeks of studio meddling.

OH, and men suck.

#barbenheimer #you're not gonna like this #hot take probably #HOW did I like Oppenheimer better?#feminism #tw transphobia #angie says trans rights not whatever the hell this shit was

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cherryblossomshadow · 1 year ago

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#it often feels like parts of the gnc queer community will be like “you're not doing GNC right” #and I'm like “Other people put me here” (tags courtesy of @myfootyrthroat)

If gender is a performance, it is possible and not like, immoral to just be unskilled or bad at performing your gender (quote from above)

Some of them will also be 100% straight too. The same applies, and yes, this is a good thing. Gender roles strangle us all, and hanging so much on what is just stereotypes is not helpful and is directly harmful to all of us. (comment courtesy of @stealth-liberal)

Queer the cis/trans binary (comment courtesy of @zexreborn)

a lot of ppl don't seem to get that trans/queer acceptance means not being special. it means not being able to clock someone cuz like, yeah they've got blue hair and pronouns, but they might just be some chill cis dude. it means the erasure of identifiers as distinctly identifying. and thats a good thing, get with it (comment courtesy of @tornad001)

I can never really articulate why I hate it when people suggest "well maybe you're nonbinary" but this gets at some of it

something something, a narrowing of the accepted ways of being a man/woman, and then you get forced into some stupid third non-category instead (comment courtesy of @brighterflowers)

Thank you for saying this.

The only person who can say if you are trans is you. This means the only person who can tell another person if they’re trans is them! Even if you feel you lack an obstacle to seeing things that they have, there is no situation in which you are the right one to make this call.

Additionally: supporting questioning properly means you celebrate someone completely regardless of their identity. If they land on trans, they’re unique and wonderful in their transness - and if they land on cis, they’re STILL unique and wonderful in their cisness! Their gender is still something to celebrate and love, and it’s still unique to them! We cannot perform the work of liberation without the goal being to love people for exactly who they are, not who anyone else hopes they will be - including us. (comment courtesy of @neophyte-no1)

if a cis dude wants boobs and to still be a cis dude that is 100% his right.

If a cis girl wants a dick and to still be a cis girl that’s 100% her right.

If a cis dude doesn’t want a dick and to still be a cis dude that’s 100% his right.

If a cis girl wants no boobs at all and to still be a cis girl that’s 100% her right.

And so on, and so forth, across any and all things. Yes, even that one.

Total gender anarchy for all. (comment courtesy of @swiftrunnerfelidae)

literally feel like trans ppl loop all the way around to enforcing hegemonic gender roles sometimes #saying that a masculine woman is secretly a trans guy isnt progressive its literally age old misogyny #let people tell you when they are ready if theyre trans but making blanket statements about gnc people being eggs is icky like #wow how progressive you think a cis man who likes the color pink or has long hair or is quiet isnt actually a man #this literally drives me insane (tags courtesy of @ked-r)

actually stop calling people eggs #you can do it after they've come out #but until then you dont know if they're actually trans #and you're potentially just doing more harm by pushing them into an identity they dont identity with (tags courtesy of @tumblersleftboob)

Fully agree, I've met multiple cis lesbians who want mastectomy/top surgery for personal reasons. But go further, what if a confidently cisgender man preferred the idea of himself with a vulva/vagina for whatever personal reason, just didn't feel connected to his penis…. I genuinely can't think of a reason he shouldn't be allowed to make the informed choice to have a vaginoplasty, or the inverse with a cisgender woman and phalloplasty.

We were all born with a body, it is yours, whether it's tattoos or body mods, or genital harmonisation surgeries, you should be able to do what you like with it. (comment courtesy of @garden-of-varda)

Frankly an ideal world is one where the dividing boundaries between trans and cis ceased to exist. Everyone is free to mod their bodies and their personal gender expression however they like, and no one questions it if someone chooses to be something other than what they were born as. You're you, however you choose to express that. (comment courtesy of @yay855)

This is exactly why Finnster ISN'T transphobic, he's a cis straight man who fucks gender conformity hard and he is our FRIEND. He has never once "cosplayed being trans" and he says straight on hes cis het. (comment courtesy of @steviemamaoftheupsidedown-blog)

If your goal is to normalize gender-nonconformity you’re gonna have to accept that some people will fuck with gender as hard as they can while still being unequivocally, 100% cis and that is okay. There��s no egg to crack or callout to write. This is a good thing actually.

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vamp-stamp-fics · 2 years ago

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Th Black phone Headcanons

Fandom: the black phone

Tags: hcs, fluff, some angst on Vances hcs

Word count: 1192

A/n: I've been hyperfixated on this movie for at least a month and I'm finally posting about it. these are some of the Headcanons I have for the black phone currently. I'll probably make a part 2

Sexuality hcs don't shit on me for this. If you don't like the thought of gay people in the 70s personally evaluate and ask why the hell you're mad

• Finney - bisexual

Gwen - an aggressive straight Ally. She'll pop anyone in the mouth that disrespects Finney she already does but she'll do it twice as hard if it's cus his sexuality

Robin - homie kisser

Vance - another homie kisser (they're just like me fr)

Bruce - bisexual

Griffin - either unlabeled or straight. On one hand he seems the type to not care what your gender is he just likes you but on the other I don't see him liking boys so idk I'm still contemplating

Billy - straight Ally (I'm sorry but I don't see him liking dudes romanticly. Ik I'm crushing every Biffin shipper rn 💀)

• Finn's favorite color is blue

• Robin's favorite color is green

• Gwen's favorite color is pastel pink. She always tells Finney that Yes there's a difference between pastel pink and regular pink

• Vances favorite color is also blue but he likes more darker blues while finney likes lighter blues

• Billy's favorite color is red

• Griffins favorite color is orange

• Gwen did ballet when she was around 7 but stopped doing it when her mom died

• Gwens favorite book series is Nancy Drew & her favorite movie is wizard of oz

• Billy & Griffin are absolute little shits together. Billy's the shit talker Griffin's the instigator

• Vance violently brushes his teeth. Like the bristles on the brush are flared 💀

• Bruce is an avid Michael Jackson enjoyer so is Robin

• Robin is a absolute horror nut. (In a modern au he'd love analog horror the walten files I feel he'd especially like. Also in a modern au he'd force Finney to play fnaf with him) besides Texas chainsaw massacre he definitely likes Halloween & Friday the 13th (if he was still alive that is 💀)

Rip Robin you would've loved Rob zombie ✊😔

• Vance is constantly getting into arguments with his teacher in one way or another. The only teacher that isn't on his ass is his English teacher which is his favorite. She's basically like a 2nd mother to him of course he'd never tell her that. He acts all tough in that class but the minute everyone leaves he somewhat dials it back when she tells Vance he did well today and he actually got a passing grade on one of his tests totally not projecting here

• Vance: "ur mom"

Finney: "my mom's dead"

Vance: "damn my fault 💀"

• Billys dogs name is Goldie

• when star wars was realesed Finney absolutely loved the movies and dragged Robin to see them with him

• speaking of Star wars one Halloween Finney & Gwen dressed as Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia

• Vances childhood dog was a bloodhound

• Speaking of Vance he had a pretty rough childhood. I heard that he's a Canon mamas boy so I'm using that as well. He grew up with an abusive and alcoholic father who'd constantly abused him and his mom. He'd always tried to intervene and protect his mom causing him to get hurt. Afterwards his mother would just comfort him as best she could and tell that he shouldn't involve himself when his parents argued. His mom got so fed up with it that she left Vance and his dad when he was 8. She didn't want to leave him but she was so emotionally and mentally drained she just left on impulse. Vance doesn't exactly hate his mom for it cus he knows it probably would've been worse for her if she stayed, but a part of him does resent her for it and wonders sometimes why she couldn't just take him with her.

• the choker he wears was actually his mom's. it's the only thing he had that she left so it has pretty sentimental value.

• Vance has a 6 year old sister named Tara. When he went missing she was basically the only one looking for him. She'd go on her scooter after school everyday around the neighborhood and stay up late watching the news to see if she could get any information. Tara was up when the news stated he was found dead and cried knowing she'd never see her brother again.

Anyways sorry for the sad Vance hcs back to our regular scheduled programming

• Tara's just as foul mouthed and intimidating as her brother. The minute she talks it throws people off bc a little girl calling someone "fuckhead" is definitely something they weren't expecting. kicks anyone in the balls if they mess with Vance or his pinball machine. Gwen absolutely loves her and hangs out with her alot. She's basically like another older sibling for her. Whenever Vance is playing pinball she's either outside playing ball next to the Grab n Go or sitting next to him let's pretend there's a chair next to the pinball machine lol drawing in a coloring book.

• Vance refers to his dad as old man

• Vance love life is interesting to say the least. He doesn't feel like he needs a relationship but wouldn't mind having one. Tho he's not gonna be romantic at all about it 💀 i mean he's not gonna be a dick to his s/o and he'd try to be romantic but he's not gonna call them pet names and be all flowery. a date with Vance is just watching him play pinball tbh

• Vance either is in a band or wants to start one. If he hasn't started one yet he'd never admit to his friends that he wants to make one

• Vances favorite holiday is Halloween so is Robins cus he loves horror sm every year he and his friends wear costumes to scare kids trick or treating

• Modern au: Finney & Gwen don't have cable tv so if they wanna watch shows from CN, nickelodeon etc they go to Robins house (Totally not projecting again) Finney's favorite show is the amazing world of gumball Robins is regular show. Gwen's favorite show is Craig of the creek and her favorite character is Kelsey. When it comes to non cable tv Finney & Gwens favorite show is Mr Rogers neighborhood

• Modern Au: Finney watches game/film theory. Robin watches it with him sometimes but only if it's horror movie/video games

• Vance can't ride a bike for shit. His mom tried teaching him before she left but he couldn't get his balance

• Robin is a roller skating/skating pro. He can do different tricks and flips and Finney always wonders how he does it without busting his ass. One time Robin tried teaching him to skate and ended up falling. Robin found it funny until he saw the giant gash on his hand

• Gwen uses pinkie promises. She's aggressive with them too. she'll be holding her Pinky to Finn "YOU PROMISE? 😠" and he'll say "yeah yeah I promise 😒"

• Modern Au: Gwen has a rainbow loom and makes a shit load of bracelets. Has whole box full of them. She gave a few to Finney and Robin

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miabrown007 · 2 years ago

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Prestidigitation

For all intents and purposes, everyone would be better off if they minded their own business instead of trying to pry into the private life of public figures. For god’s sake, Ladybug’s the Protector of Paris, not some celebrity sensation on the gossip column. Still, some people will occasionally pop the insensitive question, and at times like that, she has to repeat the age-old lie: No, she does not have a soulmate. Ladybug finds it infuriating. Adrien finds it hilarious.

Ladrien soulmate AU requested by @risieb for the @miraculers-for-ukraine charity drive. Thank you for supporting the event! <3

Prestidigitation (1,638 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter)

It’s a single question.

A single question that kicks the cogs of a well-oiled machine into motion, a single question that makes the stiff heat of the crowded ballroom settle upon the dinner table with all the weight of the world. The handkerchief gently tapping at the gathering sweat on Adrien’s brows stops at the same time when Ladybug’s eyes flash at him. There’s a palpable shard of heartbreak in them, and Plagg squirming with barely restrained glee in the vest pocket of Adrien’s suit is decidedly not helping the situation.

She abruptly averts her gaze, breaking the eye-contact not longer than a fraction of a second, but it serves as a reminder of a universal truth above all: Ladybug hates lying. She isn’t very good at it, either.

She fixes the remains of her salad on her plate rather deliberately, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. They are all pink as she says, “No, of course I haven’t met my soulmate yet.”

Maybe it’s her innate luck, maybe the superficial nature of smalltalk at charity galas, or just the infallible human principle that people only see what they want to see, but Nadja Chamack nods in great understanding. She smiles at her, in that benevolently pitying way of people who are in on a secret of life their interlocutor has been denied of so far, and pats Ladybug’s gloved hand gently over the table.

“Worry not, my dear. You’ll meet him soon enough, I’m sure of it.”

Nadja takes a sip of her champagne flute to wash down the chicken confit while Ladybug just nods with a small, agreeable smile. And if she breathes a sigh of relief as she chases a cherry tomato around on her plate, it’s a gesture subtle enough to avoid everyone’s attention around the round table who isn’t so acutely tuned into every whiffle of hers.

Adrien, rather predictably, takes notice.

Enabled by the tiny god of destruction trembling in his pocket, and the pinkening on Ladybug’s cheeks, he inches his chair closer. Just close enough to be able to lean in comfortably. He joins the two women’s conversation, his voice as innocent as a cherub’s as he inquires. “What about Chat Noir?”

Ladybug’s eyes flash at him threatening with a celestial crash and burn, but it’s already too late. Nadja’s face lights up.

“Yes, indeed! What about Chat Noir? I’ve always thought that if there were two people ever destined to be together, it would be the two of you.”

Ladybug’s shoulders tense with the small laugh she forces out, the very same one that makes her fork maneuver itself forcefully right through a whole tomato. By accident. Probably.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. Chat Noir and I are just coworkers.”

You are incorrigible, she supplies mentally, and Adrien feels the huff at the end of her missive.

That’s what you love about me, though, he returns. In lieu of the grin he truly wants to sport, he lets his mirth over her adorable indignation carry with the thought. It passes between them through the soulmate bond.

Out loud, though, he only says, “Coworker? I thought you two were partners.”

Her face pinches up in a slight frown and Adrien feels the mental equivalent of a kick under the table. Actually, it might just have been a real kick under the table. With Ladybug, one can never know, but that only makes Adrien all the more glad to push her buttons.

“Coworkers, partners, tomayto, tomahto,” she waves it off, rapidly popping the real deal in her mouth to avoid any further questions.

I thought we were over this and you stopped getting jealous over Chat Noir, she remarks, deliberately not looking at him for more than a duration of a glare.

Oh, I’m most definitely not jealous of Chat Noir. After all, which one of us is soulmates with the most brilliant girl in the world, him or me? he returns, humouring himself with the joke of the century.

It’s alright that Ladybug doesn’t get it yet, though. One day she will, and that will be the most glorious day of Adrien’s life. But until then, he knows it would be way too dangerous to let her in on the joke, not to mention the violation of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Handbook of the Good-Enough Hero: Minimizing Emotional Trauma and Keeping Identities Just-Secret-Enough — A Practical Guide. The very one that Adrien, naturally, hasn’t got the slightest clue exists.

[read the whole fic on AO3]

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladrien #fanfiction #miraculers for ukraine #mfu #ladybug #ladrien june 2022 #ladrien june #no I won't be posting anything this June that isn't gala friends Ladrien and that's a threat <3 #miaraculous writing #ml fanfiction

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gxrlcinema · 2 years ago

Note

I’m getting started early so I don’t forget to send you asks!! This is such a fun concept, thank you for doing this and congrats on 600!! ❤️ (oh and honestly if you don’t want to do any of the ones I send you, you can totally just ignore it)

🖋 Can I request a stand alone Bucky and/or Stucky (whichever youre feelin’) drabble with “the thing I think I love with surely bring me pain” because ouch 😇

A/n: I'M SORRY BUT THINGS GOT SO SAD I HAD TO THROW IN A FLUFFIER ONE

everything will be alright

“THE THING I THINK I LOVE WILL SURELY BRING ME PAIN. INTOXICATION, PARANOIA AND A LOT OF FAME!”

You dance around the kitchen, mixing the cookie dough in your arms and mentally thanking Tony Stark for soundproofing Steve and Bucky’s floor of the tower so that you could scream as loud as possible.

You turn to see your supersoldier boyfriends standing on the kitchen island, staring at you.

“What?”

“This is the kind of stuff you liked as a kid?” Bucky asks, brow furrowed and big gray-blue eyes teetering dangerously close to kicked puppy dog territory. Steve’s expression is no better.

“Um, yes?”

Bucky looks stricken, Steve, pinched. You sigh, putting the cookie dough mixture on the counter in front of you so you can give the supersoldiers your undivided attention.

“What is it?”

“Y/n,” Steve’s tone is far too serious for Sunday afternoon cookie making. “Are you sure that you’re… okay?”

“Oh.”

It’s- well, it's actually super sweet that they’re so worried. That doesn’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of you at your boyfriends wearing the exact same expression as your middle school guidance counselor. Just like your middle school guidance counselor, they do not find anything that they’ve said to be remotely funny.

“I’m fine guys. I mean, I wasn’t. But I am now.”

They look unconvinced. You roll your eyes, grabbing their hands where they rest on the counter.

“Look at me,” you wait until you’re sure you have both men’s gaze. “I wasn’t in a good place when I got into this stuff. I was sad and angry and hated myself, and I found comfort in music that reflected that back at me. I was also thirteen. This music isn’t a place for me to be sad anymore.”

Bucky is silent. You know he’ll corner you later, wanting an explanation of what “sad and angry and hated myself” means, as if you can’t see the recognition in his eye already.

Steve on the other hand, goes from concerned to earnestly confused.

“What is it now?”

“A banger,” you beam at him, forcing a chuckle past his pretty pink pout. Bucky still looks devastated though, so you shrug and add, “I don’t know. It’s nostalgic. It reminds me of how much I’ve grown, how much I’ve survived.”

You can’t explain it better to them. Can’t find the words to say that these old emo songs are a way to hug a younger version of you while simultaneously dancing on her grave. (You think they understand anyways. Who better than Bucky and Steve to understand loving and burying your old self in the same breath.)

“Now come on,” you tell them, turning back to the cookie dough you’d abandoned. “You’re both on cookie rolling duty.”

Steve claps his hands together and rolls up his sleeves. Bucky play-groans. Both supersoldiers crowd next to you in the kitchen, dropping kisses on your temple as they arrange the baking sheets the way you want them.

You smile at your boys as the guitar of “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World fills the room.

#thank you for this request beloved #ipmoshpit #ilana hits 600!#my punk rock princess ash <3 #stucky x reader #stucky x y/n #stucky x you #steve x bucky x reader #stucky x reader fluff #stucky x reader drabble #dear maria count me in 🖋

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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shiver | 01 (m)

banner done by the wonderful @dnrequests

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment: touching over the clothes, mc is hornee, *pulls out cards against humanity* “a gentle caress of the inner thigh”, panty kissin, mc is a big ol’ pushover and hopeful for jkk:(( w/c; 1.9k a/n; it’s here! aaaaaa!!! i’ve been really eally realllyyyyyy nervous to post this. even though this is just a drabble series let me know how you feel about it! enjoy [shiver masterpost]

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

Jeon Jungkook isn’t thaaaat buff, he's more of a skinny kind of muscular. You don’t understand the hype, why everyone croons over Jungkook’s strength and physique. However, how else could you explain Jungkook being able to climb the currently dilapidated fire escape to the top floor of the chapel. The ladder is rusted beyond repair and is definitely a fire hazard rather than a fire escape. Yet he barely breaks a sweat doing it, and he wipes the minor sheen off his brow with the back of his hand. There’s some soot and whatever nasty residue from the fire escape that gets on his face, a black streak marring his already annoying face. He’s currently wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic “hello.” It makes you sneer, your two consciousness (inappropriate and appropriate) warring against each other to determine whether you still find this man attractive or not.

Convincing yourself that Jungkook is ugly is the worst quick-fix idea you’ve ever had.

The words of your Aunties, the family friends in the church, echo in your ears. Jungkook’s bad. They’d say over and over. It would cause you to snort and giggle, unable to imagine what sort of things he’s done to warrant such a cliché label. Yet some of the girls your age, girls that have gone off to college agree with sultry looks and longing eyes that yes, Jungkook’s bad. So bad, it’s good.

You haven’t a clue what he’s actually done to earn such a hushed title, his parents are lip-tight about his doings, unless it’s his achievements in the architecture graduate program. You hear things, though. Things that make you shamefully green with envy, envious of sin.

As soon as he finds proper footing in the storage room, he goes to the closet, immediately finding his backup clothes. They’re plain white button-downs, awkward long shirts with no shape or definition to them. They belong to the church, and no one ever uses them because they’re stiff and itchy. Yet Jungkook wears them like it’s tailored, and you have to look away when he quickly knots the bottom half of the shirt, fashioning it into a tasteful double knot in order to cinch his lean waist.

“Pretty sure it was just you that saw me,” Jungkook says dismissively, “so it’s fine.”

This bristles you the wrong way, and you put down the catering covers you were supposed to return to the storage room. You smooth out your Sunday dress, this shade of Boring Beige looking particularly pale in the morning sun. “How do you know I won’t tell?” you turn your nose up.

“Because I know,” he doesn’t even look at you, focusing on rolling the sleeves of his shirt. You weaken when you see the black shadowing across his forearm. That’s new, then again you haven’t seen him since last Christmas.

“Know what?”

“That you have a crush on me,” Jungkook says into the air like it’s common knowledge, adjusting the leather jacket on top of his outfit so the white-startched collar pops on top, “I mean, it’s hard for anyone not to know. You’ve been into me since youth group, Bunny.”

You hold your breath, counting to ten as you close the door behind you. A vision of you playing “Duck Duck Goose” as a five year old plays in your head, where you’d pick a bushy, big-eyed Jeon Jungkook each time, hopping over to him to pat his fluffy head so he’d chase you around.

It’s old news, your puppy love for Jungkook. How could you not like him? He's clever and sweet with his mother and always told the best stories in youth group meetings. Everyone thought your affections were so sweet, and while that attention weaned over time, your feelings have only increased the more self-aware you’ve become.

With a mind as open and honest is yours, it’s hard to ignore how well Jungkook has grown. What has also grown is your curiosities since the two of you have moved onto university. Jungkook goes to the university uptown, a far drive which only forces him attend masses during the holidays. You attended the local community college, wrapping up a bachelors in some vague major that you’re not attached to. You’re currently looking around for some graduate schools, but unfortunately you’ve been so wrapped up doing duties for Pastor Nina that you haven’t been able to look around properly.

Jungkook’s probably living a fun life, with the way he’s grown rough and loose, you resent him.

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s right in front of you, trapping you between his body and the door.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Bunny,” you furrow your brows, nearly growing cross-eyed when he leans in. “I think your crush is cute.”

You’re not sure what he thinks of you. Sure, he considered everyone a friend when you two were in youth group, but that was youth group. Premeditated, parents forcing other children to do the same things with each other for years upon years in the hope they’ll practice together forever and ever. Jungkook did not want that, evident from the way he dipped his duties as soon as he got into university.

You hate how easy he dips back into it though, calling you Bunny and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Bunny, because you’d hop around to him whenever he was in sight. Bunny, because Jungkook had been fondly compared to the wide-eyed, diamond-toothed creature. It was cute when you were five. Now, it’s just discomfiting.

“Don’t call me that,” you bite, “and I don’t like you anymore.”

“Sure you don’t,” he rolls his eyes, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand rests on the curve of your waist, fingers slotting themselves between the pleats of your skirt. “That’s why you’re not moving away when I’m about to put my hand under your skirt. Because you don’t like me.”

You press yourself further into the door, your skin hot and vibrating. So warm, you feel like you could melt through the door and escape from Jungkook’s gaze. Sure, the young ladies in the congregation talk. Maybe you’ve heard a story or two about Jungkook being seedy, a result of being repressed after years and years of stiff routines and expectations thrust upon him. You could care less about Jungkook’s sexual appetite, until this appetite has reached you.

“Mm, you’re pretty,” Jungkook’s eyes roam your form, the daisy white blouse doing nothing to barricade Jungkook’s sudden interest in you, “you’ve never been touched like this, have you?”

“I’ve touched myself like this,” you hiss in defense, and it’s more out of anger than in pleasure. You don’t need a man to comfort you, but Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in mirth at the new information.

“That’s really sexy,” Jungkook slips down, roams his fingers down to your ankles and plays with the silver buckles of your Mary Janes. You shiver when his hands trail up up up to your knees, the swell of your thighs, and catch right under the elastic seam that holds your secrets together, “but I’ll have you know, it’s different when you have someone hold your pleasure in their hands.”

You’re in the storage room of your church, fifteen minutes before the Christmas mass, with Jeon Jungkook’s head between your legs. Your skirt is long, and Jungkook doesn’t bother to ride it up your waist.

It feels more forbidden that way, Jungkook hiding under the fabric of your skirt to get to your honeyed center, sneaking his way in with rough hands and soft touches.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, pressing your full spine against the wooden door, “we shouldn’t. N-not like this.”

What is wrong with you? Is it sheer curiosity? Do you just want to know what it finally, finally feels like? You should be pushing him away. There’s red lights flashing back and forth in your brain like sirens. Yet, do you really want to turn away the attention you’ve been aching for years?

You imagined your first time to be relatively special. The bare minimum, a bed, a talk, and a partner you’re mutually committed to. None of those things are met. Now you understand why all the young women in church whisper about sex like this. It’s a spur of the moment, it’s an unbridled pleasure you don’t want to stop, no matter how forbidden and sinful the act is.

“How else then?” you feel his deep voice straight through your panties, his lips whispering between the pink cotton like he’s sinking liquid heat into your skin. “I can’t sink my fingers into your sweet cunt during the candle lighting. Or when we open presents with the family after. That would be inappropriate.”

Your replies come out in breaths, puffs of air that conceal the moans you so badly want to let out as Jungkook pokes and rubs at you. He does nothing beyond the cotton fabric, only slides two fingers up and down your slit as he gathers the arousal between his digits.

“So wet already, that’s so sexy,” he’s kissing your core, and you sigh fretfully at the pleasure that feels so close yet so far away.

“P-please, Jungkook…”

“Please what?” Jungkook teases, fingers slipping back and forth between the elastic of your underwear, “please stop? Please touch me? Please fuck me?”

The church bell answers that, and Jungkook’s nose knocks right into your bud at the sudden intrusion. You yelp at the jarring stimulation, pulling him from under your skirts as the loud noise echoes in the room. Both of you wince at the pain, the moment interjected.

“You first,” Jungkook casually opens the door for you, as if he didn’t have you ten seconds away from begging him to make you come.

You don’t even look at him as you dash away, not bothering to take the elevator in favor of running off the heat. Two minutes before the procession. The church is packed to the brim, only the back seats left. Your family probably gave up on waiting for you up in the front. As you sit down in the corner, you’re momentarily distracted by the beauty of a decorated church on Christmas. Even though you’re part of the decorating committee and commanded most of the design, seeing the stained glass lit up with fairy lights and the poinsettia plants blooming burgundy on the altar, you’re impressed.

“There’s a draft here, you must be cold.” Jungkook talks to you so politely, a perfect picture of a gentleman as he drapes his leather jacket over your lap. He speaks as if it’s a pleasant surprise, a childhood friend he hasn’t seen in nearly a year.

You can’t tell him to move when people are watching and Jungkook is seconds from interrupting the procession, so you reluctantly scoot over so he can sit next to you. His scent overwhelms you even more now that you’ll have to sit next to him for a whole hour, lavender and vanilla overtaking your pew.

The jacket is heavy and heady on your lap, and you force yourself to stare straight ahead. Jungkook cannot weaken you like this, not anymore.

Thirty minutes later, his fingers are hovering at the start of the homily, caressing your thighs under the jacket with his big hands. A draft? Please. You clamp your thighs together, knocking your knees and hoping they’d lock together for the rest of the mass. Jungkook’s a master key, easily parting his way as if your muscles are pure jelly. You turn your head sharply, glaring at him with all the fire in the world.

“Careful,” Jungkook mouths, eyes flickering to the symbol atop the podium, “he’s watching.”

His fingers finally brush the damp blush cotton of your panties, and you shudder.

#ficswithluv #btsguild #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook angst #bts angst #kpop fic #hansolmates

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kakashifanrp · 3 years ago

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Marks of the soulmates 1/2

Kakashi Hatake x reader

part 2 <- here

AN: Soulmate fics get to me. They are soo cute! Soo i decided to drabble down one. Most likely this is part 1.. 😅 most likely a oneshot or two shot.

(a pic of the mark aswell, just because I liked this one mark)

Soulmates, it had been a thing for ages. Almost everyone had a soulmate, finding it was another story. When the ancient shinobies of the past were able to make the mark of the soulmates it made the search easier for many. A mark would appear on the left wrist, a mark that would only be identical to your soulmates mark. Girls normally made sure to keep a eye out on their chruses wrist between 16 to 18 years of age, it was then the mark would normally appear.

Yours however came around when you were 17 and a half.. Right after you had became a jonin, and your best friend since childhood turned his back on everyone. It was not that you hadn't tried to stop him... Or even try to make him stop ignoring everyone that cared for him.. But after he joined the Anbu it was back and forth, before the sudden conntinuesly ignoring everyone. After days of watching it all go down, you followed him.. Knowing it didn't only hurt you, but also the rest of your friends.

"Kakashi.. Stop for a secound" You had been running after him for 5 minutes allready, after seeing the sad look on Gui's face yet again after Kakashi ignored him, and only gave a cold stare. It had been the boiling point, watching this for years allready. You caught up with him and stepped in front of him, but in normal Kakashi style he just walked around you. This made you clench your jaw as you stepped in front of him again, placing your hands on his chest making him stop by force. "I have tried to stop you for 5 minutes now" You looked up at him, only to be greeted by the cold stare of his.

"Why are you doing this? Do you even see how hurt your friends are? We are worried about you baka!" frustration had been building up over the years, seeing him act like a cold hearted brat. "You really are annoying" Kakashi muttered unimpressed and pushed your hands off him. "didn't you just become a jonin? Isn't it time to act like it?" There it was.. The vemon in his voice again.. Like he hated your gut. "My rank has nothing to do with this, and you know it. I don't know what has happend to you lately, but damn Kakashi.. Saying hi once in a while would not kill you" It was a desperate attempt to make him soften up a bit, and stop throwing away everyone that cared for him..

"You are just pathetic.. Can't belive they let babies become jonin theese days" he scoffed as he started to walk away. "Soo thats what you think of me huh?" His words hurt, it always did when he was in a mood like that.. "Can you be annoying somewhere else, some of us has actual things to do" He spat, not even looking back at you as he walked away.

You remembered that day too well.. It was the day you knew you lost your best friend, and it crushed you.. Not only did he look down on your abilities as a jonin.. But he seemed to had a distaste for you as a person too. As if that wasen't hard enough, your soulmate mark appeared later that day. That was suppose to be one of the happiest day of your life.. To finally get the mark you had dreamed of and start the hunt for your very own soulmate.. But after the talk with Kakashi earlier in the day it only made you sad..

You looked down at your wrist as you walked. The flame like mark were still there, and you had yet to start looking for the matching mark. Had it only been as easy for you as it was for Asuma and Kurenai it would have been great, but you truly had started to doubt if that was even what you wanted in life. "NARUTO!!" you heard the scream from behind you making you lift your head to see the blonde boy running away from the pink haired one yet again. "Y/N sama! Help me!" Naruto ran up and hid behind you which did not stop Sakura one bit as she chased after him.

"hey, I am not a shield!" Being dragged into their fighting was never fun, at least when you knew how hard that girl punched. "Wait until I get my hands on you Naruto!" they run around you, Naruto trying to dogde, while Sakura tried to punch. "Ey ey ey, Didn't you two just pass on a team togheter, teammates don't hit eachother, or use people as shields!" You facepalmed yourself as you watched them. "He tried to call me his soulmate!" Sakura shouted, red in face from the anger boiling. "But what if you are Sakura Chan?" Naruto carefully stood behind you with a nervous smile on his face.

"Guys, why even worry about that stuff now.. It is like 4 to 6 years before any of you get a mark, that is if you even get one?" This caught Naruto's attention, giving Sakura a opening to punch him in the head. "Still, I know my soulmate will be Sasuke, not a Baka like Naruto" She crossed her arms, looking offeded as usual. "ow ow ow" Naruto rubbed his head where he was hit and looked at the two of you. "I almost feel bad for the sensei you guys got.. With this being how you act thowards eachother." you let out a soft sigh. "Kakashi sensei don't seem to care" with narrow brows you looked at Sakura. "Hatake, Kakashi? Is he your sensei?"

"Yeah, He made us to that stupid bell test..what a scarecrow" Naruto mumbled. You had heard he became a jonin leader a while back, but he had not passed a team soo far. "Scarecrow? That was a new one" You raised your brow, knowing Naruto found all kinds of nicknames for people. "Y/N sama, do you have a soulmate mark?" Sakura looked at you, and you nodded. She grabbed your arm, making you gasp in suprise as she lifted the glove a bit to look at it. "wow! Have you found your match yet? When did you get yours? Did it just appear? Was it magical like they say?" You looked at the girl with wide eyes as she studied your mark.

"breath Sakura.. It is just a mark" You shrugged, making her thighten her hold on your arm. You winced at the sudden strenght the girl had when she got annoyed. "It is not just any mark!" She glared at you. "ok, i got it when I was 17 and a half.. And no I haven't found my soulmate.. And yes it just appeared" You muttered and noticed Naruto looking at it too. "hmm.. Soo thats how it looks like." He tilted his head before his eyes light up. "Thank you Y/N sama" He smirked and dragged Sakura with him, taking her by suprise as she looked ready to hit again. You just stood and looked at them walking away in confusion, wondering what he even thanked you for..

Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke had gotten themself a mission, and they were not gonna stop until it was settled. The past week they had been looking at peoples wrist to see if they found you a match, Sakura had been soo happy to finally see a real soulmate mark that she had memorized it in detail and made a a drawing the three of them used to compare with. After a week they sat down defeated at Ichuraka's. "We have looked everywhere! No matches" Naruto whines. "Did you really think that was gonna be easy?" Sasuke looked annoyed.

"I was hoping yeah! It has to be someone in this town" Naruto took another bite of his ramen. "why do you guys look soo down" Kakashi sat next to them with a raised brow. Normally his students didn't hang with their heads while eating ramen. "Baka, Naruto! It can be from another village too! The mark is on people from all villages" Sasuke frowned and scoffed. "Mark? What mark?" Finally it seemed that the three students had noticed their sensei. "soulmate marks, what else sensei?" Sakura frowned. "aren't you three a bit too young to be worrying about theese marks?"

"We are just trying to help a friend" Naruto looked at him. "a friend?" Kakashi looked at them even more confused. He remember wanting a mark when he was younger too, but after he got it he never really cared. "Is it a meeting here today?" Iruka walked in, ready to get his lunch that he had ordered. "Iruka sensei! Show me your wrist!" Naruto demanded making Iruka go pale. "ehh, what?" Sakura grabbed his arm and looked. "nope.. Not Iruka sensei either" She mumbled, as he retracted his arm. "ok what is going on?" He looked at the genin in front of him.

"We have been trying for a week now to find Y/N samas match" Sasuke shrugged, making it sound like it was the most obious thing ever. "we have checked as many in kohona as possible, but it is too many marks and no one matches the one she has!" Naruto almost screamed as he explained, clearly frustrated. "Y/N sama?" Kakashi looked at the three genin, not sure if he heard the name correctly. That name he had not heard in years. "ohh, I see.." Iruka rubbed the back of his neck. "your old classmate, Kakashi.. She helped out at the school from time to time"

"That joke was not funny Iruka sensei" Naruto side eyed him. "what joke?" Naruto looked at Kakashi, almost making the ninja uncomfortable. "I don't belive Y/N sama is that old" This made Kakashi almost shrink in his chair. "I am not even that old" He muttered, making Iruka laugh. "well, You guys should have good luck then" Iruka got the food and left as the genin finnished theirs. "Kakashi sensei, can you help us out on this mission?" Sakura pleaded, started to loose the hope. "Isn't that your mission to do?" He noticed the look in their eyes and sighed. At least they seemed to be working in a team, which made them stop bickering for once. "Ok, I help for today"

Sakura gave him the paper. "We need to find this mark!" She pointed at it, not noticing the wide eye on her sensei. "You sure this is the mark?" He frowned as he looked at the kids. "Yes! She showed it to me. Just remember she must not know about this" The young girl said sternly. Kakashi just nodded as he looked at the drawing, ignoring Naruto's stare. "We have not checked your arm sensei" He said suddenly as he grabbed the arm to look, taking Kakashi by suprise. "hmm" The blonde said as he looked between the paper and Kakashi's wrist.

"what are you doing?" Kakashi tried to retract his arm, but all three of them grabbed it to look. "it is a match?" Sakura looked up at Kakashi, before they let go of his arm. "But you are too old sensei.." The three genin frowned as they watched him, making him uncomfortable. "How old do you three really think I am?" He placed the paper down, eyeing the three kids. "Older than Y/N sama" Naruto said with a obious tone. "But you two are soo different.." Sakura voiced her thoughts before she started to go pale. "oh no, what If I get linked with that baka" She started to freak out, thinking about it. If kakashi sensei could have the same mark as Y/N, with how different they were... What if the was cursed with Naruto!?

"Y/N sama! Over here!" Naruto yelled, making Kakashi pull down his sleeve. You looked over and noticed Sakura's face. "whats going on.. You three looks like you have seen a ghost?" you walked over before noticing Kakashi. "I am doomed!" Sakura ran off making you look shocked. "Naruto, what did you do this time?" The blond glared at you before looking between you and Kakashi. "Nope, still don't belive it" He muttered, eyeing his sensei. This whole thing made you look at them all confused. "Do I even wanna know..."

"Are you as old as Kakashi sensei?" Naruto blurred out, still looking between you two. "Well yeah.. What about it?" This made Kakashi smile under his mask. "I told you, I am not that old" Naruto just shaked his head and started to leave. "Still don't belive it" You giggled a bit, only imagine the shock he must be in. "It could have been worse Y/N sama" Sauske gave your arm a soft pat before walking away. "Theese kids never stops to suprise me" You sighed and looked over at Kakashi. "Now I see what he meant with scarecrow" You mumbled as the expression on his face and hair could remind you of one.

"a what now?" He stood up and looked at you. "Naruto think you look like a scarecrow, I can kind of see it now" You smiled a bit. "You should have good luck with them, they can be a handful." You mumbled, remembering the last time you spoke with Him. "You don't have to say that twice.. They are gonna be the death of me, I allready know it" He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "oh, you don't know anything yet" You smiled and started to walk away, knowing he was in for it. "Where are you going?"

"I have guard duty today, soo off to my shift" You turned and looked at him. You studies him carefully, not sure how to read him at all.. And still a bit shocked he could talk at all. "Which side of the village?" He asked. "East side, waiting for a scroll delivery" He nodded. "I tag along then" You narrowed your brows a bit. "You tag along? Never thought I would hear that from you again, Hatake" You smiled and started to walk, letting him catch up to you. "well, it is a first for everything isn't it?" He keept his gaze on your hand, knowing you used to talk with your hands before. Maybe he was able to see for himself.

"Soo what is the scroll about? Since they need guards to greet it?" He played it off as he opened his book to pretend to read. "Well, I am not sure, all I know it is a delivery to lord 3rd" you shrugged as you lifted your hands a bit. Kakashi noticed the mark on your wrist as he stopped a bit. "Are you ok?" You stopped and looked over at him. "I gotta go" With a poof of smoke he was gone, making you sigh. "some things never changes.."

#kakashi hatake #kakashi sensei #naruto universe #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi #kakashi fanfiction #naruto #kakashi hatake rp #sakura #sasuke uchiha #sasuke

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emmys-writing · 3 years ago

Text

Ballerina

Pairing- Hotchner x Reid

Warnings- bottom spencer, explicit content, dom hotch, sir kink, small cock spencer, this is unedited, hotch is kind of a dick but not really, short spencer, ballerina spence, jack is in ballet <3, degradation

When the class of 6 year olds finally was rounded up and cleared out of the studio by stressed and exhausted parents, Spencer sighed in relief. The last kid was picked up 20 minutes late and of course it was inconvenient but Spencer loved these kids. They always had bright happy smiles on their faces and cute clumsy wobbles as they tried to balance on the bar the way Spencer did. Spencer smiled softly and hummed to himself, grabbing the loose pieces of garbage that occasionally littered the floor. It wasn’t until he heard a throat being cleared that he jumped with a small yelp and looked towards the door where the noise came from.

Aaron Hotchner, Jack's father who rarely showed up to their rehearsals, stood there with his arms crossed and his normal stern facial expression on. As much as Spencer wanted to remain professional, he couldn’t help but notice how handsome the older gentleman was. He wore a gray suit that although slightly unfitted, still fit the broad and muscled shoulders and Spencer hated to admit it but this man was definitely a weakness of his. He was arrogant at times and not one for joking around, if he did show up he didn’t stay to chat either. He just grabbed Jack and left.

“Sorry Mr. Hotchner, I didn't see you there!” Spencer blushed and connected his own hands behind his back in a shy manner. Aaron just nodded.

“I’m here to pick up jack” Straight to the point.

“O-Oh… Jessica actually already picked him up. I’m sorry sir, i would’ve phoned you if i knew you planned on picking him up” He explained, walking closer and flashing an apologetic smile. Normally if this was any other parent he would roll his eyes at the bad planning but Mr Hotchner was different. Spencer saw this as an opportunity to get to know the man who he’s been ogling for more than a year.

“You look tired, do you want to stay for a coffee? I already have some brewing and I have lots of sugar and cream” The younger one offered. Aaron surprisingly took him up on that offer as well.

It had been a long case and he just got off the jet, coming straight to the ballet studio afterwards. So what if he found his son's instructor a bit attractive? coffee wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. It’s not like he would end up bending him over and- no. He mentally smacked himself for being so perverted towards the man in front of him. He was small, maybe 5’6 or 5’7 at most, had a slender frame as well as the most adorable smile and soft looking hair that he would love to reach out and touch. Aaron took a step towards the stack of plastic chairs and took one, placing it down on the ground. He took a seat while Spencer made his way towards the coffee pot.

“I take it black” Hotch told him and watched the ballerina as he smiled at him and poured the bitter liquid in the plain white mug. Hotch took the opportunity to admire the young body when Spencer was turned around. Hotch knew it was wrong, the boy was just so sexy without even trying. The thin black tights hugged his thighs just right and the little skirt he wore flared out around his small waist, accentuating the round of his ass. Hotch felt the front of his pants tightening, his chest tightened and he felt himself getting warm. Spencer turned back around forcing hotch to immediately struggle to tear his eyes away. Spencer noticed though. He saw the lustful glances and tent in his pants, it gave him an amazing opportunity. After Spencer handed Aaron the cup he looked up at him with the same lust filled eyes.

“Do you mind if I work on some of my stretches?” Spencer asked while internally smirking.

“No, go ahead” He took a slow sip from the cup and leaned back in the small, plastic chair.

Spencer went to the bar and lifted his leg up, he did it a few more times before huffing and looking over at the other presence in the room.

“I need a little bit of help, could you?” He blushed and looked down at his ballet shoes. Hotch couldn’t say no, he knew that Spencer would feel the bulge but he was hoping to play it off as just having a big dick, which technically wasn't a lie either. Aaron got up from the small plastic chair and stood behind Spencer, he lightly placed his hands on the younger man's bony hips and bit his lip gently. Spencer was perfect in every way. Spencer lifted his leg up once more but not without pushing his behind against Hotch's groin. Hotch struggled to keep in a groan but successfully was able to, this didn't stop the other man though. He continued to push up against him and made small groaning noises as he stretched despite not actually needing to make noise. The thing that finally broke hotch was when Spencer bent over and the thin tights truly lived up to their name. The tights were slightly see through in the lighting and position he was in, this caused hotch to groan and place a hand over his crotch through his dress pants, cupping it lightly in hopes he could conceal it even just a little bit. He couldn't. Spencer turned around at the noise and smiled cheekily.

“Something wrong Mr. Hotchner?” Spencer leaned against the wall and looked up at him.

“Nope, just keep doing what you were doing”

“Oh really? Because I think that I...” He trailed off while reaching out and placing his hand over Hotchs, feeling his erection go slightly stiffer at the contact. “...Am making you hard”

Hotch didn't know how to respond to that but he kept his straight and tall, intimidating posture to make sure Spencer knew he had no control over him.

“Am I making you hard sir?” Spencer asked innocently and looked up with big brown eyes. That was all it took for Hotch to grab Spencer's waist and push him into the wall further. Spencer giggled and tangled his fingers in the taller man's hair.

“You're such a little slut you know that?” Hotch chuckled darkly as Spencer nodded in response. Something in the older man's demeanor changed and he was no longer the stern father who made minimal small talk. He was now the Sexy, dominating, strong man who had his son's ballet teacher pressed against the studio wall and degrading him. They both loved it.

“Answer me” Hotch said harshly and used one hand to grab hold of Spencer's jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Y-Yes sir, i'm a little slut” He whimpered.

“Good girl” He smirked and Spencer swore that he melted at the nickname. Hotch looked down between their bodies and furrowed his brows, Spencer didn't have a visible erection and it confused him slightly. Surely if he wanted this he would be hard, and especially noticeable if he's in tights?

“Spencer, are you sure you want this?” He asked, concerned.

“I- yes why?” Spencer looked up at him confused.

“Well- I erm… You are not visibly hard so I wanna make sure you don't feel pressured.” Spencer blushed furiously in embarrassment and gulped.

“I'm just on the smaller side…” He whispered but it was loud enough for Hotch to catch. He groaned softly and reached down to Spencer's hips, flipping him to face towards the mirrored walls.

“Is that so baby?”

“Yes sir…” Spencer surprised himself when he felt his face get warmer than before because he was pretty sure it was almost impossible. Hotch placed his hand under Spencer's chin, forcing him to look at himself in the mirror. It was embarrassing how easily he fell apart. Aaron kissed and sucked and nipped at Spencer's pale neck, leaving behind dark marks that would definitely be difficult to cover up before his next class. Aaron brought his hands down to Spencer's ass and grabbed the thin fabric of tights and underwear before ripping a hole in the back of it, the tights were easily ripped up the front as well though leaving the man's small, pretty pink cock and hole on display for the other man.

“Oh, so cute and small, darling. Like a little clit” Spencer whined and leaned forward to place his forehead on the mirror but quickly corrected by Aaron who laid a harsh and loud, echoing slap to his bare behind.

“Don't hide, I want to have you watch me make you fall apart. I'm going to break you into nothing but a whimpering and whiny mess” Spencer just nodded, he was at a loss for words and had no idea how to reply. Hotch brought one hand to Spencer's mouth, Spencer gladly took the long and thick fingers into his mouth, sucking for a good amount of time before pulling off and looking into Hotch's eyes through the mirror.

“I-I have a small bottle of lube in my bag” He didn't have any shame at this point, all he wanted was to have Aarons cock filling his ass. Aaron went to the side and looked through the dance bag, smirking at the spare pair of clothes and thongs to reduce the panty lines when wearing tights. It wasn't long before he found the bottle and quickly went back to Spencer who eagerly pushed his ass out.

“Patience, you may be a slut but you can wait” he chastised and chuckled darkly before spitting on his hole before placing a generous amount of lube. Hotch added two fingers immediately and Spencer cried out at the burn he felt, it was a good burn though… It became a mix of pain and pleasure so it wasnt long before Spencer began fucking himself onto the older mans fingers. Soon enough he had four fingers fucking into him but it didnt last long because Hotch pulled them out and placed the tip of his cock at his entrance.

“Beg.”

“Sir please!” He cried, tears almost forming in his eyes from desperation. Hotch seemed to take pity on poor Spencer luckily. The tip of Hotch's cock was pushed into the desperate and greedy hole before slowly sinking in more until he bottomed out.

“Such a good hole for me aren't you? My little slut, little cockslut…” Hotch groaned and gripped Spencer's hips tightly.

“Yes sir, i'm your little cockslut!” He whimpered and threw his head back. A few slow thrusts were made, slowly building up in pace and roughness until Spencer was a whimpering and moaning mess beneath the older gentleman. Hotch reached forward and grabbed ahold of Spencer's little cocklet, rubbing at the tip and watching Spencer's facial reactions through the mirror.

“S-Sir im gonna-”

“No.” He whined and looked up at Hotch, clawing at the bar in front of him.

“Such a cute little cocklet huh? Do you like it when I rub it like a clit?”

“Yes sir, p-please i-i need to”

“Shh.. it's okay. Just a little bit longer okay? Hold on for me”

Another few minutes go by of Hotch jack hammering into Spencer before he looks into Spencer's eyes through the mirror and he gives him verbal confirmation to cum.

“Cum with me” is all it took for Spencer to let go and cum all over the mirror, clenching his hole around the hard cock inside of him to milk him as well. He felt hotch's cum fill him up to the brim and when he pulled out, the bit of remaining cum spilled out of him and down his thighs.

When both of them catch their breaths and steady themselves, Hotch grabs a thong from Spencer's bag and cleans up the cum falling down his thighs but leaves the cum inside of him.

“I’ll see you next class” Hotch smirked and slapped Spencer's ass before grabbing his cup of coffee, downing the rest of it and walking out the door.

#hotchreid #hotchreid smut #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner smut #heid #hotchxreid

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years ago

Text

The Island | KTH (Eight)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.7k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) mentions of sex, someone gets punched by someone,

Notes: Enjoy this chapter guys:) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr

Previous --- Next

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

The room you are in is as cold and empty as you feel. The one single table with 3 chairs, 2 on one side and the one you are currently occupying across from them. The room feels chilling like ghosts haunt it. Maybe they do, you think. The silence is truly deafening and the wait for these 2 other chairs to be filled makes you anxious. It’s been a few months since you have been back here and it makes you uncomfortable each time but you know little by little you are receiving answers.

Finally, after a long wait the heavy door to the room screeches open. And in comes a man and woman in professional clothing—he in a suit and the woman in a dress suit. They smile at you awkwardly like they feel pity. They both pull out their chair and take a seat.

“Have you found it yet? The island?” you’re quick to blurt out and they nervously look at one another before frowning.

“It isn’t that easy unfortunately Miss y/l/n. We’ve been in search of this company for over 50 years.” The woman taps her fingers on the table. “We have yet to find them or this island you speak of.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you as you roll your eyes to the side.

“What kind of intel agency is this? You can’t even find some lame ass fucking love company.” You spit out.

The man hardens his eyes at you as he takes a long, deep breath. Obviously trying to gather his patience.

“Here’s what we do know.” He begins. “They tapped your home, your cell, all of your accounts and spied on you for over a year. Doing their…” he pauses, biting his lip. “Research…”

“And drugged you and your parents the night of the kidnapping.” The woman picks up where he left off, “And then they drugged you again to return you home and also your parents…assuming so it wasn’t to wake them while they were in your home…” she gulps…she understands how invasive this all is.

“You didn’t think to set up cameras around my parent’s house? For when they would return me? You didn’t think to keep an eye—”

“We did.” The man clears his throat, “But they….” He drags his hand down his tired face, “This company is smart. They obviously know what they are doing. The night of your return the cameras we had set up miraculously stopped working.”

You can’t help the laughter that erupts from your body. You begin shaking your head in disbelief, your laughter dying when you realize how serious this is.

“This is fucking bullshit.” You say with a tight lip smile. “Anyway…do you…do you guys…did you look into what I asked of you?” your eyes slide to the side as you nervously pull at the ends of your hair.

“The man you were with? Kim Taehyung…yes, we looked into it. We have been working with Korea’s intel in hopes to solve this case. He has been working together with them. I cannot release any personal information though.” The woman eyes her partner and her frown deepens. “Miss y/l/n…I know this is difficult and you two have been through a lot together. But I am sure you can find a way to reach out—”

“I just wanted to know how he is doing is all.” You cut her off, “It’s fine.”

~~~~~

You stare at the letter in your hands, it’s an off white color and the font in quite fancy. Your parents let you see it a few weeks after you returned home but every night you take it in your hands and stare at it. Not knowing how to take it. The company sent it to them the day you disappeared…explaining the company’s goals. They sent photos of you and Taehyung every week to prove you were alive and well. Your parents said this is what kept them sane…trusting you were okay because they couldn’t—wouldn’t accept any other reality.

Your heart aches thinking of what your parents must have been through but not just them…your sister found out through your mom and dad about the situation and she grew so worried without you. When she found out you were returned home she immediately came to you, sobbing in your arms and hasn’t left you since.

You set the letter down and pick up the pile of photos on your night stand…it’s a thick stack. You begin shuffling through them and you feel like someone has stabbed you in the chest with a dull knife and they begin to carve your heart out. It’s slow and painful…they finally take your slow beating heart and squeeze it in their hands, blood spilling and spilling. Killing you.

Some photos are just of you but majority you are accompanied by Taehyung and seeing his smiling face makes you relieve the experience of getting your heart carved out of your chest.

You glance up at your ceiling as tears begin building in your eyes, you try to blink them back, your eyes opening and closing repeatedly. But it’s no use, not when you feel this lost and hopeless. Suddenly, there is knocking on your bedroom door and your father is walking in.

“Ready sweetie? Got the rest of your things?” He steps into the room, a worried expression on his face but he tries to hide it behind a forced smile. “We should get going.”

You quickly sniffle and nod your head, shoving the stack of photos and letter into your backpack before you’re swinging it over your shoulders.

“Yup, ready.”

It’s moving day. Thankfully you found another job in your old town that you lived in, you found a new, better apartment that is close to where you use to live, you finally are getting out of your parents hair.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road!” your dad pats you on the back as you walk past him. He’s got the truck loaded and ready to go for the couple hour drive. Back to the city!

“This place is so much nicer than your last!” Your sister sets a box down on your new kitchen counter, “You actually have a decent sized kitchen! Not that you really cook.” She laughs.

“Hey!” you whine, “I told you I learned quite a bit of cooking while on the island.”

“You also told me that your boyfriend cooked a lot too…so I’ll just assume he did all the work.” She teases and your face falls.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” Your lips curls so far down that it’s almost comical but alas, it is not because you feel your eyes sting.

“Sorry…” your sister walks to the living room, joining you. She reaches for the box in your arms and sets it down on the floor. “y/n…just message him.”

“…I can’t.” you feel your chest start to burn, “The way things got left…I don’t know how to speak to him.” you admit. “and it’s been so long. If he hasn’t already moved on then he at least hates my guts.”

“Yeah I probably would too.” Your sister nods her head and you swat her arm.

“Thanks Ellie.” You deadpan. “Anyway, I just can’t.”

“He is probably waiting for you…he loves you.”

“You don’t know him?” you laugh quietly, “So how would you know?”

“I’ve seen the pictures of you two, in the moment pictures, and dude, he looks so taken with you in every single one.”

You can’t help the way your heart drops to your stomach. You told him you thought your feeling may not be real…those are some of your last words to him and that kills you. Without a doubt he has had to have moved on from you…why would he torture himself?

Later that night you are snuggled up in your bed with your sister snoozing beside you. You have your phone (Damn you missed this device) and are scrolling through Taehyung’s Instagram. You notice he posted a new group photo just 4 hours ago. You look at all the tags and see all his friends…Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, Jimin and Jungkook. But there are also a few girls in the photo. You notice the tag for Hana. You hate that your heart completely stops beating in your chest then suddenly starts racing. Hana. He’s hanging out with Hana? Wait, why are you surprised? You take a deep breath and click her name to view her page and then that’s when your heart really stops. Her most recent photo is of her and Taehyung, their faces smooshed together with wide smiles on their faces with the caption “Missed you.” With pink hearts.

She’s pretty. Really fucking pretty. No wonder Taehyung liked her. Liked? Or likes? Are they together now? They look awfully close. You feel your eyes sting for the millionth time this day and they begin to bubble with tears. This is your fault. You pushed him away, so far away, into another woman’s arms. You start to feel lost and hopeless again…you decide stalking Taehyung through social media probably isn’t the healthiest thing for you or your heart. You continue scrolling on Hana’s page…she has lots of photos with friends, pretty Korean scenery, selfies and more. She looks lively and beautiful, oh so fucking beautiful.

You exit the app and click your phone off. You squeeze your eyes shut and a few pathetic tears that you do not deserve slide out and down your face. You really need to move on, you really need to focus on you. But how can you when a huge part of you feels like it’s been ripped from you? Taehyung was a part of you and you think he still is. You feel crushed, fucking crushed. He is probably with Hana now and you absolutely cannot blame him.

Taehyung is doing fine. Just fine. With or without you. And that reality is setting in and it hurts. It fucking hurts. But you have no one to blame but yourself.

“Why are you doing this, huh? Things were so perfect.” He stops in front of you and pulls you up by the arms. Your chests almost touch from how close you are. “Unless…” he looks down at his feet, “You’re saying all of this because that’s how you feel. You’re the one unsure of your feelings. You’re the one who only likes me—loves me—because there’s no one else.” He looks into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Maybe.” You finally say. And you wish you didn’t because Taehyung releases a shaky breath and his brows crease together as he forms the saddest smile you have ever seen. The canvas of his life is full of beautiful bright colors but you continue to splatter blue and grey paint all over it. The paint mixes together and drips down, a gloomy mess.

“Oh.” He steps back. “I see.” He takes another step back, carding his fingers through his hair. He looks into your eyes as his gloss over, “I’ll leave you alone then.” And he turns around and walks out of the room, leaving you behind.

Why does this scene replay in your mind every single day. Every single night. His sad, sad expression leaving an ever lasting imprint in your mind. You feel broken, but you also feel angry. How dare the company send you back when you and Taehyung have so much to resolve? What is the purpose? What are their intentions? You ball the sheets in your hands as you release breath after frustrated breath. What was the point of all this? Somewhere deep in your gut you feel like this isn’t over. You feel like the company still has some ties to you…you can’t explain it…just a gut feeling.

To say you hate yourself is an understatement. You truly can’t stand to even look yourself in the mirror. You ruined the best thing that has ever happened to you—Taehyung. But you should be happy, right? He’s doing well. He has his friends, his family, Hana. He is absolutely 100% doing just fine and you have to accept that.

~~~~~

“You can’t live like this dude.” Namjoon throws a trash bag on to Taehyung’s bed, signaling him to use it.

“Yeah…Joon is right.” Jimin starts picking up some trash off the floor…mostly empty food containers. “This is getting out of hand. I know things haven’t been easy—”

Jimin is cut off with Taehyung groaning loudly and dramatically. He lifts his head off his pillow, his face evident with sleep as he eyes his two friends in his apartment.

“Get up.” Namjoon lightly kicks the bed with his foot, “And open a damn window or something.”

“And maybe take a shower. You reek of this hangover I am sure you have…” Jimin sits down on the edge of the bed, his hand going to Taehyung’s back, rubbing it soothingly. “She isn’t coming around Tae.” Jimin says as softly as possible, “She isn’t—”

“We don’t know that.” Taehyung cuts him off, grumbling. “She could.”

“You said it yourself, she isn’t sure of her feelings…why aren’t you letting it go?” Namjoon sits down on the bed as well.

“I know her.” Taehyung begins to sit up from his place in bed, his hand flying up to his pounding head. “Fuck. I’m hungover.” He complains.

“You went too hard last night.” Jimin frowns, “Again.”

“So what? You think she lied to you? That she does love you?”

“She was just scared.” Taehyung whispers. “Trust me, I know her.” He repeats again.

Jimin and Namjoon share a look of pity mixed with concern. Jimin stands from the bed, taking the trash bag with him, he opens it up and starts filling it with the garbage around the apartment. Taehyung just watches Jimin clean up and he starts to feel a sense of guilt. Maybe he has been a handful the last few months.

Taehyung is trying his best though.

The unfamiliar bed along with the unfamiliar room was indication enough that Taehyung was in a place without you. It only took him halves of seconds to realize he was in his parents’ home in their spare room. A place he didn’t frequent very often. But he understood his situation right away. The island returned him home to Korea but suddenly this place feels like the last place like home.

When he made his existence known to his mother and father they cried over and over for their son. His father going on about his regrets, how he wishes he would have supported Taehyung more in following his own dreams and so on. His mother wishing she had cooked his favorite meal more often. They basically took his disappearance on the island as his death. At least that’s how Taehyung sees it.

His parents’ received the letter as well, even the photographs. They know all about you. They know that Taehyung is in love, they know Taehyung heart aches. They know everything. They were honestly rooting for you two…they could see how much love went on between the two of you even through pictures.

But as the days went on, as the weeks went on and as the months went on, Taehyung started to feel like he is withering away with every day that passed that you did not reach out to him. Did your time on the island with him mean nothing to you? Even if you ‘maybe’ weren’t in love with him like you claimed you were still friends for god’s sake. You still without a doubt had a powerful connection.

Things have been hard. Really fucking hard. But nothing is harder than the day when the Korean intel agency notified him that you were good, that you were okay. That you were home. But they could not release any personal information. You were home…you were okay…but you still have not reached out? He’s relieved you’re well but that also comes with the disappointment that you are choosing to stay to yourself.

“Yoongi wants to work on that new song tonight, what do you say?” Namjoon stands from the bed as well and makes his way into the small kitchen for a glass of water.

“Not in the mood.” Taehyung mumbles underneath his breath.

“Listen Taehyung…” Namjoon walks back into the room, his hands crossed over his chest as he looks at Taehyung with narrowed eyes.

“If you’re serious about this, being with her, that is. Then fucking do something about it.” Namjoon continues to stare down at him while Jimin keeps cleaning.

“I don’t have her number, I can’t find her anywhere on the internet and I barely know where she lives. What the fuck can I do?” Taehyung grits out, raising his voice just the slightest as he talks.

“….There has to be something.” Jimin speaks up. “A clue.”

“A fucking clue? What are we? Fucking detectives?” Taehyung throws his hands up, frustrated.

“Jimin’s right.” Namjoon uncrosses his arms and runs a hand through his hair, “She must have mentioned something, anything. You have to think.”

“You think I have the mental capability to think right now?” Taehyung questions with a bitter chuckle. “She doesn’t do much. She never mentioned some grand event she goes to every year, she didn’t mention what school she went to, she didn’t mention what company she worked for, she didn’t fucking mention anything. She stays to herself.” Then Taehyung’s eyes go wide.

“You know I use to go to this coffee place almost every single day. I miss it. That routine. It’s called ------------…a small, family owned shop. Only one of its kind. I would read, write, journal. Just relax. Every day.” You breathe out, missing your comfort spot.

Taehyung rushes to stand from the bed, he is quick to scoop Jimin up in his arms and place a dramatic kiss to his cheek.

“Jimin you fucking genius!” Taehyung suddenly remembered the night you had a panic attack. When you calmed down enough to speak you told him all the things you missed about your real life. Including some coffee place you would frequent on the regular. But he cannot remember the name of it for the life of him.

“What? What?” Jimin starts giggling, “Why?”

“A coffee shop! She used to go to a coffee shop!” Taehyung basically yells in excitement.

“Okay, what’s it called?” Namjoon smiles and immediately Taehyung expression turns sour.

“I…I don’t remember. But it was family owned, only one of its kind.”

Namjoon can’t help the frown that decorates his face but then he tries to smile.

“Better start doing your research lover boy.”

“Cozy Coffee. It’s in (Your city).” Taehyung slams a sheet of paper onto the bar top in front of Namjoon. “I found it.”

“What’d you find?” Jin asks from besides him, “Wait that place y/n goes to?”

Taehyung nods his head quickly with a wide ass smile adoring his face.

“Yup.”

“Now what, kid?” Yoongi brings his beer to his lips as he takes a generous sip. “You going to call that place and ask for her?” he laughs a little.

“No.” Taehyung straightens his back as he speaks. “I’m going there.”

“You’re…” Hobi begins but stops when he sees how serious Taehyung is.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jungkook starts shaking his head. “This girl—”

“y/n.” Taehyung snaps.

“Right…” Jungkook gulps. “y/n…she ignores you these last 6 months and you are still trying to be with her?”

All of the boys share looks with one another, frowns on everyone’s faces.

“Jungkook is right—”

“Tae told her he would do whatever it takes…he also believes in her feelings. So let’s believe in him.” Jimin cuts in, his hand going to Taehyung’s shoulder and giving him a smile.

“Jimin is right…” Namjoon breathes out, “Let’s trust in our Taehyungie.”

“But don’t forget what she did to you Taehyung.” Jungkook whispers seriously. “You weren’t okay…”

Another day passes and still, nothing from you. Taehyung brings yet another bottle of soju to his mouth as he starts downing it. He feels his world collapsing around him. He feels how everything around him is cracking and breaking apart. But the most cracked, broken thing is him. He looks at himself in the mirror and stares into his empty eyes, these same eyes that used to gaze at you. These same eyes that saw your smile, laugh, cry. These same eyes that undressed you. These same eyes that saw you coming undone over and over. These same eyes.

Taehyung chugs back his drink, his eyes never leaving his reflection as he finishes the bottle. He made a mistake tonight, a drunken mistake but a mistake nonetheless. He slept with Hana. Taehyung, the boys and Hana and her girlfriends were all at the bar tonight and he just doesn’t see her that way. Yet, he was inside her just an hour ago. He slowly closes his eyes, regret and guilt filling his entire being. What the fuck did he do?

His life is all over the place, a mess, if you will. A big, fat messy mess. He got a new apartment, leaving his parents’ house and he doesn’t think he has cleaned it even once since moving in. He drowns in alcohol, he drowns in unfinished songs, he drowns in his friends concerns and mostly? He drowns in you.

He stares at your photographs an unhealthy amount. He has cried over your photos countless times, he has touched himself to them too. Somehow that is more satisfying than the sex he just shared with Hana. The empty fuck he just gave her haunts him in this very mirror. Did he betray you? Have you also fucked someone new? Have you moved on?

Taehyung stares at himself, hating what he sees. You’re doing this to him. He went from being miserably depressed to angry. He’s beginning to blame you for everything with rage. But as much as he wants to hate you—he does want to—he just can’t. He can’t gather that type of energy in your direction. He just can’t.

Hana looks very pretty tonight…she’s been trying extra hard lately, Taehyung thinks. She is always casually got a hand on his arm, she always finds a way to be standing next to him, talking to him, leaning into him. Taehyung isn’t stupid. She wants him still. She apparently dated during the 8 months he was gone but nothing serious came from it. And now here she is, sleeping on his bed as he drinks by himself in his bathroom mirror.

So many different thoughts have gone through Taehyung’s head. Is he hard to love? That’s the main question that came out of all of this. You spent every day with him for 8 months and you weren’t even sure of your feelings. Shouldn’t a person know by then? He’s trying to be understanding…he is trying so fucking hard to understand but how can he? When he is balls deep in love with you and he doesn’t have to question it at all.

He is spiraling, he is being sucked into a darkness that he can’t crawl out of. He looks at himself in the mirror again, his eyes narrowing at his own reflection—disgusted with what he sees. He grips the empty bottle of soju as he feels his eyes wet with tears. He grips on to the bottle harder and harder, tears now leaving his big brown eyes. He growls out, groaning in frustration as he lifts the bottle up and throws it at his mirror. Glass shattering everywhere.

Startled, Hana jumps from the bed and rushes to the loud sound, finding Taehyung just standing lifeless, continuing to eye himself in the broken mirror. He likes what he sees much better. The cracked glass making for a better reflection, a more accurate representation of what he truly sees when he views himself.

“What the fuck?!” Hana yells out, rushing to Taehyungs side. “Are you okay???”

Taehyung walks closer to the mirror and lightly slides his hand down the cracked mirror, his fingers careful not to get cut.

“No.” he answers honestly and quietly. “I’m not.”

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” Taehyung assures him, “At least I will be…when I see her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” Yoongi says quietly, worried for his friend. He brings his beer to the bar top and stares at the liquid.

“I’ll get to that when I get to that.” Taehyung sighs out…”I can’t let go of this until I know for sure.”

~~~~~~

Settling into your new job has been smooth, thankfully. It’s only been a few weeks but you can say you really like it. Your boss is an older woman, your coworkers seem nice and the work isn’t too taxing. Your apartment is starting to come together as well, only a few more boxes left to unpack. On the outside things are honestly going well…your life looks normal and put together. But on the inside you continue to fall apart.

“Come on!” Ellie whines, “Just give me one little, tiny, juicy detail.”

“Ew, no!” you laugh, “I have nothing to share!”

“Oh, bullshit.” Ellie takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke the other direction.

You two are sitting on your balcony, watching the evening sun set.

“You are trying to tell me you two didn’t fuck? Not even once?” Ellie gives you a knowing smile and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay maybe once.”

“I call bullshit again.” Ellie starts to laugh, thrusting her hips forward theatrically, “I bet you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Something like that.” You admit shyly.

“I don’t blame you. He looks so hot.” Ellie takes another puff of her cigarette. “What was he like in bed?”

“Ugh, Ellie.” You groan, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Afraid of getting horny thinking about it?” She chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you one thing.” You hold one finger up, giving her a look that says you are serious. Ellie giggles, nodding her head in agreement.

“He’s…big.” You basically whisper.

“He’s what?”

“Shut up, you heard me.” You laugh, “First time I saw it he wasn’t even fully hard and I was impressed.” You smirk, feeling proud of Taehyung’s gorgeous dick.

“Damn girl. Nice.” Ellie nods in approval, “Did he know how to use it?”

“Ugh….yes.” you roll your eyes back, remembering the feel of his cock. “He did. Aaaannnd he is probably using it on his new girlfriend.” You sigh, feeling your heart break piece by piece in your chest.

“What? What do you mean???” Ellie puts her cigarette out in the ash tray, “New girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” You keep it short and simple. “Anyway, I really do not want to talk about him anymore.”

“…Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

You give your sister a sad, small smile and she returns it. You feel your phone buzz in your lap and you go to pick it up, you quite literally feel all the color drain from your face. Your heart stops completely. What the actual fuck? Why is he texting you? Him of all people?

Finally gathering the courage to buy his plane ticket, Taehyung begins packing for his trip. He got a roundtrip flight for one week. He has one week to find you. He’s starting to get nervous, really fucking nervous. He had all this confidence to do this but honestly? Over the last 6-7 months he has become quite insecure. You left him in shambles. He grew weak without you, he grew pathetic in his eyes.

“Make sure you bring plenty of underwear.” Jimin teases, helping Taehyung pack. “You never pack enough and somehow end up going commando.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Taehyung is too nervous to even joke around, he is too nervous to even look at Jimin—his best friend—for more than a second because he is afraid he is going to see right through him.

“You’re nervous.” Jimin blurts out and Taehyung opens his mouth in shock. But should he be? Jimin is his best friend, he can read him like a book.

“Yeah…”

“I think you have every right to be.” Jimin pats him on the shoulder, “You have been through a lot…and so much is unknown.”

“Yeah….” Taehyung agrees, “I feel like I’m walking into this blind.”

“You kind of are.” Jimin admits quietly. “You kind of are.”

“Do you think…I’m making a mistake?” Taehyung sits down on his bed, messing with the blanket between his fingers.

“No.” Jimin answers honestly. “I am probably the one who has heard about y/n the most. I almost feel like I know her.” Jimin laughs, “And I think you’re right. She was scared. This company…fuck that company by the way, this company set you two up and tried to force love on you. Of course that’s going to fuck her up. Of course she is going to have her doubts…you can’t blame her Tae. Yeah, it’s fucked up she hasn’t reached out at all but dude…it’s a tricky situation.”

“I know…” Taehyung’s head falls into his hands, “Fuck…I know.”

“And…” Jimin sits down next to him, “I don’t want you to regret not looking for her, it sucks that it’s you doing everything, I can admit that. I wish she would grow some fucking balls and talk to you but looks like you got to do all the work buddy.”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung checks into some dingy hotel downtown in the city you live, the place is dark, gritty even. But it’s just one of the first places that was affordable that popped up when he was googling places to stay. He doesn’t totally mind, he doubts he will be spending much time in here. He receives his key from the girl at the front desk, she eyes him up and down, obviously liking what she sees.

Taehyung walks down a dark hallway to reach his room—he’s starting to feel like the main character in a horror movie. He reaches his door and unlocks it, opening it and shuffling inside with his luggage. The room smells dusty, the bed is small and the blanket thin. The room is loud with the AC unit blowing freezing air and the dark curtains don’t let in any light whatsoever.

He sets his luggage down on the carpet and sits on the bed…he takes his phone out and sends a text to his group chat that he made it alive.

Namjoon 4:02pm

Good luck man, we’re rooting for you.

Jungkook 4:02pm

Fingers crossed homie

Jin 4:03pm

Bring her back to Korea

Yoongi 4:03pm

He can’t just bring her back Jin

Hobi 4:03pm

I also vote he brings her back with him

Jimin 4:04pm

I agree, I want to meet the infamous y/n

Taehyung 4:04pm

Am I also allowed to vote that I want to bring her back with me?

Taehyung quietly laughs to himself as he clicks his phone off. He lays back on the bed and groans when he feels how hard the mattress is. But it doesn’t matter because he is here on a mission, a mission to find you and he wants to waste no time.

Day 1:

Taehyung wakes up early to grab a bite to eat at the diner next to the hotel, this place doesn’t even offer complimentary breakfast! The audacity. He orders pancakes but they definitely aren’t as good as yours.

Waking up and breathing the same city air you’re breathing makes Taehyung for the first time in 6 months—feel alive. Like being in the same place as you is slowly helping him regain some of his self back. He knows you are here. You live here. You walk these streets, you eat these foods, you breathe this air. The same fucking air he is breathing.

Nothing excites him and makes him more nauseas. He misses you. He wants to see you. But he is afraid at the same time. He’s so fucking terrified. How will you react? Are you okay? Do you really not love him? Have you moved on? Seeing someone new? His mind races as he cuts into these pancakes.

Taehyung pulls out his phone and checks the time…almost 7 am. He needs to hurry to the coffee place…because what if you stop by there on your way to work? Or maybe you don’t work right now and you go there just to chill? He doesn’t know but he knows he won’t miss a chance to see you.

Taehyung finishes up his plate of food and pays. He leaves the diner and starts walking towards Cozy Coffee, only a 15 minute walk. He inhales deeply, hoping to somehow get a whiff of you, he looks at all the flowers on the side of the sidewalks and thinks of you. Would you be interested in a bouquet of flowers? He recalls on your first unofficial first date he gave you a handful of flowers from the island and you liked it. Ugh, what is he thinking? All he needs to be worried about right now is fucking finding you.

Finally, Taehyung makes his way inside Cozy Coffee. It’s a pretty small place but big enough for a handful of people to be occupying the many tables. His eyes scan the area but they don’t come across you. He sighs and heads towards the counter to order a tea and take a seat at a table in the back near the restrooms.

He spends hours here in this spot. The entire day actually. No sign of you. And the owner has to literally escort him out when it is closing time. He walks back to the hotel with his head hanging low, he guesses today wasn’t a day for reading or writing.

Day 2:

These pancakes aren’t bad actually, not the second time around. Yours are still better, of course but he’s getting use to them. Maybe tomorrow he should try something different.

Taehyung walks leisurely towards the coffee shop, he somehow has this idea he might run into you on the street or something. But he doesn’t.

The coffee shop is a little less busy today, Taehyung goes inside, orders his tea and occupies the same table as yesterday. He pulls his backpack to his lap and brings out a notebook and pen, he decides he will work on song lyrics today.

Hours and hours pass, tea after tea is drank and still, no sign of you. Closing time approaches and he is once again, asked to leave. Taehyung nods in understanding, gathers his belongings and walks back to the hotel. Slowly of course, because deep down he thinks he just might run into you.

Day 3:

French toast today…not as good as the pancakes but still, pretty good. He wonders if you can make French toast? You never mentioned it. Taehyung realizes there is still so much he does not know about you. The thought kind of drives him crazy. He wants to know you. Know all of you. Know you better than anyone else.

The walk to the coffee shop is slow and enjoyable. The scenery is pretty as he strolls on the sidewalk, the flowers poking through the cement bring him a small level of joy for the day. Once he enters the shop, the owner gives him a smile. He orders his tea and makes his way to the back table, pulls out his notebook and starts writing his song lyrics.

On my pillow. Can’t get me tired. Sharing my fragile truth. That I hope the door is still open. Cause the window. Opened one time with you and me. Now my forever is falling down. Wondering if you’d want me now.

Taehyung sets his pen down taking a break from writing, he reaches for his tea and takes a few sips. The liquid has gone cold. He sighs out and lets the hours pass him by. Closing time approaches like it does every night and he is asked to leave.

Day 4:

He’s back to getting pancakes. He likes to pretend they are yours, that you made them for him. He likes to imagine a life where you make breakfast for him again. He likes to imagine a life where you’re just here again. It’s almost 7 am, he needs to head to the coffee shop. He strolls casually, wondering what you are up to on this Thursday morning. Are you finally going to make an appearance at Cozy Coffee? Are you running late for work? Are you in early today?

Taehyung enters the shop and the owner gives him a sweet smile and begins working on his tea. Taehyung feels grateful that it’s being made without him even ordering it yet, a smile adorning his face. He pays for the tea and makes his way to the his table, pulls out his notebook and continues working on his song.

I’m wondering are you my best friend? Feels like a river’s rushing through my mind. I wanna ask you if this is all just in my head. My heart is pounding tonight, I wonder if you are too good to be true. And would it be alright if I pulled you closer.

Taehyung lets hours and hours pass, his pen busy on his notebook paper. The lyrics coming to him so easily for the first time in months. He can’t help the sad smile that grows on his face as he reads and rereads his song lyrics.

Just like every day when the bell of the front door jingles his head shoots up to see who it is. Now is no different. A woman comes in and his heart almost stops because she looks like you at first glance. Taehyung groans at the disappointment. Because it’s not you.

Day 5:

Okay, he is back to French toast. It’s starting to grow on him, he definitely wants to ask you to make this for him. His imagination begins to run wild with dreams of making food with you again, kissing the side of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind you. Like the many times he has done it.

“Taehyung…” you whine as he nips your neck with his teeth. “I’m trying to concentrate on this recipe.”

“I’m trying to concentrate too.” Taehyung smirks against your soft skin, “On you.”

You can’t help the blush that begins spreading across your cheeks, his fingers dig into your hips and you moan out.

“Taehyung…”

“What is it baby?” he starts kissing your neck. “Want me to fuck you? Right here?” he digs his fingers deeper into your hips and you start grinding against him.

“Couch.” You breathe out. “I want to ride you.”

“Oh? You want to be in control? Maybe I will allow it this once.” He teases, his tongue licking a strip up to your ear, then he nibbles on the lobe.

Taehyung finds his pants getting tight as he recalls his memories with you. He misses kissing you, he misses touching you, he misses your scent, he misses your skin, your eyes, your lips.

Shit, it’s past 7. He needs to hurry to Cozy’s.

He’s seated in his spot with his tea and notebook out, he swears he is almost finished with this song…the chorus needs some work but he thinks he’s got it. Something about being ships in the night, but somehow he doesn’t have the courage to finish he song, he doesn’t want that to be his relationship with you.

Night time comes and still no sign of you. Tomorrow is his last day and he is starting to freak out. Where are you? He thought you came here all the time? Why aren’t you coming? Are you okay? He is asked to leave once again and he does.

Day 6:

Back to pancakes. Back to strolling on the side walk. Back to Cozy’s. Back to his tea. Back to his spot.

Taehyung feels the nerves in his body multiplying with every shaky breath he takes. Today is the last night, his flight is in the morning and he has made no progress on finding you. This place being his only hint.

“Excuse me…” Taehyung walks up to the counter and greets the owner.

“What can I do for you young man? Another tea?” he softly smiles at Taehyung but Taehyung shakes his head.

“I have a question…” he begins. “Do you know y/n y/l/n?”

“y/n???” the old man begins to smile after expressing his confusion, “Of course I do, that girl has been coming here for years.” He starts wiping down the counter with a rag. “Why? You looking for her? You aren’t some creepy ex-boyfriend are you?”

“No, no.” Taehyung laughs. “But I am looking for her…she usually comes here right?” he nervously chuckles.

“Usually. But she started a new job recently that has kept her a little busy…” the old man continues to wipe down the counter. “But she was in just last week! And It’s Saturday!” he cheers, “She always comes to write on weekends.”

Taehyung lights up at that. “Really??” he shows the old man a wide, boxy grin. He feels like he hasn’t smiled like that in what seems like forever. All because there is finally a chance he might see you.

“Oh…” The old man stops wiping to get a good look at Taehyung. “You look like a man in love.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen just a bit before he smiles, “Do I?”

The shop is busy today. Taehyung sits in his usual spot, writing and doodling in his notebook, his head lifting up quickly every time the door jingles. It’s never you though. It is already 6pm and there is still no sign on you and Taehyung hates that he is starting to lose hope. Are you not coming? He doesn’t have much time left.

Taehyung sits here, his pen between his lips as he thinks about you. He thinks about the first time he saw you…he really thought you were some girl he might have drunkenly hooked up with…he remembers your expression, how shocked, how scared, how overwhelmed you were. He wishes now he could go back in time and hug you. Tell you he’s with you, together. That you aren’t alone. Taehyung wishes he could kiss your temple, bring you in close and make you feel okay. He recalls the first time you two really interacted.

“We need to find out what’s going on.” Taehyung takes a deep breath, lifting his head up. He locks his eyes with yours again but you break contact to look at your feet.

“We don’t know anything…would if it’s not safe?” you quietly try to reason.

“Exactly, we don’t know anything and that’s a problem. You don’t expect us to stay in this room forever, do you?”

He has a point and you know it. You want to follow him out of this room but your feet seem to be glued to the floor.

“Well, no. But—”

“Didn’t think so.” He turns away from you, his body shuffling towards the bedrooms door but before he can become out of reach your hand flies to his shirt sleeve, tugging it softly.

“Wait! Just hold on—” Your voice wavers and Taehyung rolls his eyes. Rolls his fucking eyes at you!

“Listen, come. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” Taehyung releases your hold on his shirt, unsticking your fingers and throwing your hand towards your body. “Decide.” He states before swiftly turning around to head towards the door.

Oh. So this guy is a fucking asshole. Noted.

You end up following him because although he was rude about it, feeling someone’s touch when you feel so scared was slightly comforting and yes, you are aware of how fucking pathetic that is.

Taehyung stands in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob when he turns his head to say, “Just trust me.”

And now you are the one rolling your eyes. Trust him? You just met the dude! 10 minutes ago his name was Future Murderer. How could you possibly trust this asshole?

“How can I trust you? I literally just met you.” The scowl on your face deepens when he smirks.

“Are you always such a fucking baby?”

“Are you always such a fucking baby?” you mock, eyes rolling so far into the back of your head.

Taehyung can’t help but chuckle. God, you were such a brat. It’s almost 7 now…still no sign of you.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Taehyung continues to chuckles as he goes down memory lane…he does regret being mean to you at first but god, you truly were a fucking brat. But he laughs about it now, loving every single memory he shares with you.

The door jingles and he shoots his head up, hoping it is you. But still, just like every other fucking time—it’s not.

Taehyung groans into his notebook, feeling lost and frustrated. What’s he going to do if you don’t show? He’s trying here. Is the universe really that cruel? And suddenly the door jingles again, but he doesn’t look up, he knows it isn’t you.

“Hi Mister Jones!”

Oh. Oh. That voice. That voice belongs to you. Taehyung whips his head up and there you are. You are standing at the doors entrance with a nervous smile on your face, why are you nervous? You are wearing jeans and a oversized t shirt, a casual but cute look. And Taehyung is falling in love with you. Seeing you in the real world for the first time has him frozen in place.

“The usual?”

“Yeah.” You reply calmly, glancing at the empty table at the front of the shop. You pull a chair out and take a seat, your back to Taehyung. He is still frozen. He all of the sudden feels unprepared for this. He all of the sudden feels sick. He clenches his jaw as he watches your back. You are here, living your life without even think of him aren’t you? Taehyung swallows down his anger now. He has to. Anger won’t do him any good.

He takes long breath after long breath trying to compose himself and find his confidence to go up to you and confront you. He blinks back his growing tears of frustration and stands from his table, the chair screeching against the wooden floors.

He stands here, frozen again. What if you really do not want to see him? That this was all intentional? He starts to feel sick again. He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to get rid of the feeling of nausea.

“Taehyung…” you whisper his name, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You think having feelings for me means that’s it? That it’s the end? Baby, it would only be the beginning.” Taehyung leans down again as he caresses your face. “I know you’re scared. I know you have trauma that you’re still getting through. I know your ex fucked you up. But I’m not him. I’m Taehyung. I’m…fuck, I don’t know. y/n, please just open your heart to me.” Taehyung looks at you with so much compassion that it physically hurts.

“I know,” your voice shakes, “I know you aren’t him, Tae.” You take his hand in yours, “I do like you.” You finally admit, shutting your eyes.

“Look at me.” Taehyung commands, “Look at me babe.”

You slowly open your eyes again, gazing into his dark ones and you feel yourself grow warmer and warmer.

“I’m only looking at you.”

Taehyung quickly opens his eyes as he finds his resolve. You love him. He knows it. He feels it. You wanted him, just like how he wanted you—wants you.

He nods his head, trying to pump himself up, about to gain the courage to walk to you when the door jingles again and a man walks in. A man that immediately looks at you and smiles.

This man takes a seat across from you at the small table and Taehyung feels his heart halting in his chest. He feels himself grow warm, he feels himself grow the company of something evil, something green. He feels himself grow incredibly fucking jealous. So you do have someone. You moved on. You have someone, someone that is not him. Taehyung slowly plops back down in his chair, his mouth slightly open as he watches this man talk and smile at you.

But suddenly, Taehyung notices how tense you become. How you grip on to your purse harder and harder with every word this man speaks. He can sense you from here…something is wrong. Who is this man? Why is he making you so uncomfortable? Is this not a date? Taehyung isn’t sure what to do. He could be reading this all wrong, he could be imagining this for his own sake. He could be creating this world where you don’t love anyone but him.

But then you stand from your chair abruptly and storm out of the shop, this man desperately tries to grab for you and quickly follows after you. Taehyung stands from his chair as well, already racing towards the shops door, in search of you. He didn’t even think about it, he just acted on instinct.

“y/n!” the man calls out after you but you continue to speed walk away until you feel a hand grab at your arm. You are quick to turn around, ready to give him an earful when your face goes completely pale.

“T-Taehyung…?” you stutter out, the shock riding in waves throughout your entire body.

“I said wait baby!” The man jogs up to you and Taehyung, Taehyung releases his hold on your arm and looks between you and this man.

“Baby?” Taehyung whispers out, already feeling his heart crack inside his chest. Maybe this is just a lovers quarrel. He continues looking between you and this man and you can see the hurt plastered all over Taehyung’s face.

“No—”

“Who is this?” The man stands between you and Taehyung. “Who are you?”

“Ben, you can leave. I think I have heard enough.” You spit out and Taehyung’s eyes widen before they are narrowing at you.

“Ben…?” he asks, not even sparing Ben a glance, only focusing on you. “Why are you with him y/n?” Taehyung’s voice goes dangerously low. “I asked, why are you with him?”

“He was just—”

“I was just talking with my girl. Is that a problem?”

“Your girl?” You and Taehyung ask in unison.

“You’re fucking kidding, right y/n?” Taehyung’s face is taken over with a scowl. “There’s no fucking way you are seeing this asshole again.”

“It’s not—”

“Asshole?” Ben scoffs, “Who the fuck are you?”

Taehyung doesn’t even look Bens way as he eyes you, he stuffs his hands into his front pockets and stares at you with his hard expression.

“Answer me.” He commands. “Now.”

“Listen buddy—” Ben begins but Taehyung just a holds a hand up in front of Bens face and tilts his head at you.

“I said, now.” Taehyung finally lowers his hand, then he is feeling his body being shove backward.

“I said who the fuck are you?” Ben pushes Taehyung, his hands still on his chest at the collar of his shirt. “How do you know my girl? y/n…you been fucking other men?”

“I’m not your fucking girl Ben.” You finally snap out of your daze, “I said leave.”

Ben lets go of Taehyung shirt to face you, he walks closer and closer until his feet are practically touching your own.

“Sweetheart I said I was sorry…” Ben tries to caress your face but you smack his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You spit out, “Ever.”

Taehyung eyes the both of you with curiosity. What’s going on here? Are you with him or aren’t you? You notice Taehyung’s confused expression and move towards him to begin explaining.

“Ben is just here to explain why he did what he did…I don’t know why I agreed…but—”

“I’ve heard enough.” Taehyung stops you, he walks closer to you. “He’s bothering you?”

“I ain’t bothering anyone you fucking dick. And you never answered my question—who the fuck are—”

Your eyes are as wide as saucers and you watch the collision of Taehyung’s fist to Ben’s face. You swear you are witnessing it in slow motion, the way his fist crashes into the side of Bens jaw. The way Ben stumbles back and falls to the pavement. The way Taehyung grits his teeth as he brings his fist back to his own body. Did Taehyung just fucking punch your ex-boyfriend in the fucking face?

“She said to fucking leave.” Taehyung growls, “Now.”

“Taehyung!” you rush to his side, immediately reaching for his fist and inspecting it for any damage. You are hit with something massive…like the grandest bolt of electricity the moment your hand touches his. You try your hardest to ignore it, to ignore the fire that caught light, the raging fire that burns so wildly in your chest.

“Come. Come with me.” You say in panic, ignoring the fact that Ben lays on the concrete, probably knocked the fuck out. You hold on to Taehyung’s hand tightly as you lead him to the parking lot until you’re at your car. You hurry to let go of his hand, feeling so fucking nervous. What the hell is happening? Everything with Ben happened so fast that you haven’t even processed the fact that Taehyung is here. Here with you. In your city. In this parking lot. At your car.

“Tae—”

You stop before you can even finish his name. He looks at you with something you have never seen before. He goes to open his mouth but he stops himself, not knowing what the right thing to say is.

“I don’t know what to say anymore now that I am with you.” Taehyung finally says after a long while, his eyes are wet and his expression is troubled.

“I thought I would get here and I would tell you I am ready to make this work, that I missed you, that I love you. But now…seeing you. Really seeing you, I don’t know anymore.” He admits. “I think I am angry with you.” He says softly. “Really fucking angry.”

“Tae—”

“No.” he moves his head to the side, his eyes down at his shoes. “Let me speak. I have prepared a whole speech for you…but now, I don’t think I would mean any of the words.” He shuts his eyes, a tear escaping. “Did you go too far? Too far in hurting me?” he whispers. “Did you ruin me?”

You start breathing heavily, not knowing how to take his words. Why is he here?

“I had to fucking search for you. But did you even want to be found?” he questions you softly.

“Taehyung.” You say firmly. “I—”

“Am I a fool?” He chokes out, “A fool for doing this? Coming all the way here…sitting at this coffee place every single day waiting for you like the pathetic man that I am.” Another tear slips.

“Can I talk now?” you whisper. “Please?”

Taehyung gulps down his spit, anticipating what you might say. He gestures for you to speak and you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out…” you begin, your chest getting tighter and tighter. “Every day that passed it got harder and harder to do it. If I’m being honest I stalked your account…” you admit with a bitter laugh, “You seemed happy. I wasn’t even sure you wanted me to reach out. Then Hana…”

“Hana?” Taehyung scrunches his brows together, “What’s Hana got to do with this?”

“You two are together aren’t you? I know, Taehyung.” You swallow hard.

Taehyung shakes his head in confusion, how do you know about Hana? You know he slept with her or?

“It was only one time.” Taehyung admits quietly…”but how do you know about that?”

“She posted you on her Instagram. I just assumed.” You say dryly, feeling a pang in your chest as you look at him. So he did get with her. You fucking knew it.

“Why are you here Taehyung?”

“I was here to tell you I love you. I want to make this work.” He says bluntly.

“Was?” you whisper and he nods.

“Now that I am here and I see you, I know I fucking love you still. But I think I’m lost and confused right now.” He admits between bated breaths. “I was so nervous to see you and to be honest looking at you now…I still feel nervous. Like, I could throw up.”

“I feel that way too.” You admit.

“You hurt me, y/n.” he steps closer to you, his gaze is dark and unwavering. “Can I forgive you?” he whispers and you choke back a sob. “Do you even love me back?...That’s also a main problem here.”

“I don’t know what to say.” You breathe out roughly, “I’m sorry for our last conversation on the island.”

“Are you?” he takes another step. “Are you really?”

“Yes, Tae…I …I…”

“You? You?” Another step.

“I was so scared, I was so confused.” You take a step back, but he continues walking towards you. “ But I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” he steps closer. “About that ‘maybe’ hmm?” he steps even closer until he is breathing the same zone of air as you. He reaches for your jaw with his hand and tilts your head up towards him. “I could have fucking told you that.”

“Taehyung…” you don’t mean to whimper, but you do. You fucking do. “I’m sorry. It just got so hard to talk to you but I have thought about you every second of every day.”

“Every second?” he scoffs, “Even as you were having coffee with fucking Ben?”

“It seriously isn’t what it looks like…” you rush to say, “He wouldn’t stop pestering me.”

“Tell me how you feel y/n. Right fucking now.” He roughly commands, his fingers still on your jaw.

“I—”

“I want everything, every detail. I want to know exactly what’s going on in this brain of yours.” Taehyung looks at you with hard eyes. “I want the truth.”

You scrunch your face up as you try not to cry, you feel so many overwhelming feelings all at once. You don’t know what to say. You love him. But is it that simple? “I…” You gulp.

“You?” his eyes soften just the slightest, “Just talk to me babe.” His voice loses all its edge as you begin to silently cry. His thumb wipes away your falling tears. “Just talk to me.”

“I miss you so fucking much.” Is the first thing that slips out of your mouth, “You have no idea…” you sob.

“If anyone has an idea, it’s me.” He chuckles bitterly.

“I let time pass me by Tae, I regret it so much. But as the seconds ticked by I knew I was losing my window of opportunity. And before I knew it 6 months had passed.” You choke, “I am so, so sorry.” You stare into his dark eyes. “The company did me a favor.” You laugh, “They gave me you. I fell in love with you, Taehyung. I just…I’m so sorry I doubted myself, doubted you.”

Taehyung’s features soften as he listens to you, he feels himself grow weak. Especially with his fingers touching your skin. He pulls back from you and leans against your car.

“Are you still in love with me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” You sniffle, wiping your face of your tears. “I think I always will be, even if you decide you hate me.”

“I wish I could hate you.” Taehyung throws his head back, “It would make this easier, I wouldn’t even be here.”

“Make what easier?”

“Leaving you behind.” He says quietly, “Leaving us behind.”

Your body begins to shake as more tears escape you, you feel the heavy weight of his words fucking crush you. He wants nothing to do with you. He doesn’t want you anymore. You fucked up too badly. Taehyung watches as you sob for several minutes, his eyes never leaving your flushed face. He clicks his tongue and puts a hand on your shoulder and rubs it.

“That’s what I think I should do.” He says, “But I can’t.”

Wait, what?

“You c-can’t?”

“I love you too much. And I all my friends voted I bring you back to Korea.” He says with a small smirk.

“But you?” you cry, “You said you are leaving me?”

“I was thinking aloud. And to be honest I wanted you to suffer a bit.” He says with his dark gaze. “I wanted to punish you just a little.”

Your wide eyes narrow at him and you can’t help but cry harder. “You fucking sadist.”

“Maybe a little.” He admits with a growing sly smile. “We have a lot to talk about.” He says after a moment. “Do you want to make this work with me or not?”

“Are you serious? Even after all of this you still want to be with me?”

“We’re soulmates, baby. Or did you forget?”

“You fucking smartass.” You wipe at your face, wiping your snots on the collar of your t shirt. “But yes…I want to make this work.”

“Spend a couple weeks with me in Korea. I want to start over with you. Take things slow. I am still angry. But I fucking love you.”

“A couple weeks in Korea?” you shake your head, “I can’t take off work that long.”

“I am not going to beg you.” Taehyung warns, “But please.”

A couple weeks in Korea? With Taehyung? Meeting his family? His friends? Starting over? Going slow? Can you two really do this?

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #the island chapter 8

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dirty-brainrot · 3 years ago

Text

(Are you okay?)

Ha! You thought it was a Jotaro (or Kira) x Reader that I promised? No! KONO DIAVOLO DA!

Pairing: Diavolo x reader

Today was the day. The day that everybody hated and oh so despised. The day that you tried so hard to postpone.

Chores day.

There was nothing you could do but clean up the whole house and so you did, with a gloomy mood. Starting from your bedroom to the living room, you dusted and removed any lingering trash. The more you dusted the more unbearable the silence got. So you placed the broom aside, deciding to grab your phone to blast to music to get motivated and remove the silence.

On the way to your room, you hear a scream followed by foreign (you assumed it was something italian) words that you couldn't make out of. You stopped in your tracks, confused, then you heard a loud thump. Running to your room, you slammed the door open. The cranky mood you had, disappeared and changed into confusion and anxiety.

Your eyes widen upon the first thing you see. There laid a top-less man, his torso was full with tattoos? It looked like tattoos. And he had a long pink-ish hair that has weird green blobs on it. He was tangled in your bed sheet, scared shitless as if he died over and over again. The mysterious man was still screaming in panic and wriggling around the floor, not noticing your presence. Cautiously, you approached the panicked stranger and kneeled beside him to remove the cover.

He had stopped screaming but he was still panicking. The man was breathing hard and his eyes looked like he was on the verge of crying too. "Make it stop— MAKE IT STOP!" He cried out while he held his arms up, cowering in fear.

"Stop what, sir?" You softly ask him, afraid that if you made your voice louder you would freak him out more. Slowly, he lowers his arms and latches himself to you. "Please! Make it stop!" Uncomfortable by the physical contact, you push him away. "I-I don't think I understa—" He held onto you tighter but you managed to push him off you. Scared yet concerned for the man, you bolted to your phone and grabbed it. "W-Wait!" He calls out to you but you ran into the bathroom and locked yourself in. Quickly dialing the emergency services, you hear him bang his fist on the door.

Now you were full-blown frightened. First, he appeared in your bedroom then next he screams about making something stop? Snapping out of your thoughts, you could hear the stranger start to sob. Your fingers hovered to press the call button but you hesitated as you hear his crying start to get louder.

You surely will regret this— You turned off your phone and placed it in your pockets. Nervously, you unlocked the door to see the pink-haired man crying on the floor, shaking. Your breath hitched as you felt some sort of pity for him. "U-um— hey..."

Sitting down beside him, you tentatively placed your hand on his back, he flinched and stiffens up at the contact but relaxed once you started rubbing comforting circles. "Hey, hey, it's alright. I—I think it uh... Stopped...?" His breath stabilized but he was still slightly shaking. Raising his face, he looks at you. You grimaced after getting a proper look at his face. Damn...this dude looks like a mess...

"I-It's been almost a minute now..." He wipes off his tears and you withdraw your hand from his back, thinking he was stable enough.

"HOW DARE THEY DO THAT TO AN EMPEROR! A KING!—"

"Woah, watch your mouth sir, maybe that's what got you into trouble in the first place." He immediately closed his mouth as he looks at you, baffled. He furrows his brows again and points at you, raising himself a tad bit so he towers over you. "YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT ANYTHING I WENT THROUGH—"

You cut his outburst again. "Listen sir, I don't know what happened but I do know it's bad but you don't have to shout." After you finished your sentence, he looks at you, his expression told him he was infuriated. The so-called "king" was about to have another outburst until he rubbed his face with his hands.

He sighs, defeated. "Do you know where I am..?" "Well, that was fast." You thought before speaking. "You're in [Country] and if you're thinking what date it is today— it's August 30, 2021." He weakly nods, before freezing. His expression darkened as he starts to panic again. "2021?!—" He rose from the floor, leaning beside the wall for balance. "Yep! 2021 and we're in a middle of a pandemic too."

He grabs your shoulder. "PANDEMIC?!" He shouts while shaking your shoulders aggressively, making you wince from the loud noise and become nauseous from the shaking. You shoved his hands off you. "Y-yes, there is a pandemic."

He sat back down and placed his hands on his head. It was silent for a while and you could only watch the man mumble and have an existential crisis. "Uh, sir—" he snaps out of his thoughts and looks at you. "Could you tell me your name and what happened?"

Looking at you with reluctance, he tells you his name. "Diavolo." You nodded then tilted your head slightly. "So like, the devil?" Ruffling his hair, he sighs and answers shortly. "Yeah."

You hummed. "So Diavolo, I'm guessing a wizard sent you to the future and probably tortured you in the process while getting transported here." He, for the first time, chuckles. "You're not far off." You opened your mouth and made an ":O" face in surprise.

He could be possibly a deranged man or he could be actually someone from an alternate reality or the past. "I don't know how to start this— I was a don of a mafia and got beaten by a 16-year-old. So now I died multiple times for punishment—" He suddenly stops, you looked at him with confusion. You heard him mumble something "crimson" and swear in Italian afterward. "You alright? Are you having another panic attack?" He grunts and shakes his head. "As I was trying to say; I was forced to die multiple times because of a kid who had a dream and his gang of brats."

You nodded and stayed silent not knowing what to say. "Oh! Uhm- I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Y/N." He leans back and nodded. Sitting upright you added, "I don't know how you got here, in my room, but I'll just believe you for now." The two of you sat in silence, not knowing what to do not say. 'At least he's calm now.' You thought.

"You're oddly calm."

"Huh?" You stare at him dumfounded. "Oh— I guess 2021 keeps getting weirder and at this point I don't even want to bother anymore."

After your response it was quiet again. Glancing at the messy bed, you had an idea. "Hey— Can you help me clean?" You look at him while nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 'Asking a stranger to help you clean? He did made a mess so...' Diavolo sighs and stands up. "I guess... But do you have any food first? The loop made me famished."

Following his actions, you stood up and gave him a small smile. "Alright! follow me, magical stranger."

Jofoe in your home series: Kars, Kira

#jjba #jjba x reader #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure vento aureo #vento aureo #golden wind #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #diavolo #diavolo jojo #diavolo x reader #jjba diavolo x reader #jojo diavolo x reader #x reader

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Baby Mine [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: The first time you laid eyes on your child, you knew: You had to get out. Set in the ‘White Picket Fence’-verse.

For request: Something with Overhaul + the reader’s children and manipulation (I’m sorry I accidentally deleted the original message so I don’t remember the exacting wording!)

Word Count: 3328

notes: yandere, stockholm syndrome, abuse

From the instant you laid eyes on your daughter, the moment your gaze took in her fresh, wet skin and her small, blinking, uncomprehending eyes, you knew: you had to get the fuck away from Chisaki Kai.

The realization was instant, like a flash, peeling away years of manipulation and training and forced self-acceptance of your situation. Years of justifications and excuses that had wormed their way under your skin, forcing you to see the bright side, to see his side, and let yourself get wrapped up in its candy-coated, fluffy cotton bullshit--gone, ripped away with brutal, exacting force. All that was left was the stark realization, a single driving force shoving you forward: you and your daughter were going to get out.

That was four years ago.

Four years of agonizing pretending. Of forcing yourself to put back on the coat you'd worn before, the false version of yourself that loved him and accepted him and excused everything he ever did to you. It was hard. It was harder to pretend that you accepted this than to actually accept it, to indulge in his control. But every time your resolve weakened, it only took a glance at your child to remind you of why you couldn't just give in.

You had to get out, not for yourself, but for her. To give her a normal life. A life where she could be free, where she could have friends, where she could run outside and not be limited to the house or, if the weather was nice, the secure, high-fenced backyard that Kai had only built within the last year.

Four years of pretending. Four years of planning. And, most difficult of all, four years of waiting. Trust was not easily given by Chisaki Kai, even to the mother of his child.

So you waited.

You waited for Kai to move you two--no, three now--into a house, a real house; not in a populated suburb (another broken promise that you swallowed deep, deep down) but an offshoot of some protected compound in a remote area, where it could be secure and guarded. But what mattered is that its doors connected to the outside, not to some unknown underground bunker. You could manage, if you were connected to the outside.

You waited for Kai to ease up on the restrictions that built up around you during your pregnancy, rules to keep you under a far more watchful eye, rules that made it harder to find a way out. Inches of trust, gradually earned, which made it possible for you to think concretely about escape.

You waited for your daughter to get old enough to run, old enough to survive without needing to be fed every few hours, old enough to know how to stay quiet when told. Watching her grow up only made you want to leave, more. She had a personality now. Stubborn but accepting when she knew she wouldn’t win; sweet in her own way, an unusual way, likely one that came from a lack of interaction with anyone but her parents and a handful of trusted Shie Hassaikai members.

It was one of those trusted members--you never have learned their name, a secret Kai (nor they) were willing to give--that would be your key to escape.

They loved your daughter, too, in time. They were drawn in by her precociousness, her insistence on formalities and pleases and thank-yous. But it was her bubbliness and inherent interest in the world and people around her that made them decide to love her, too.Her big eyes and bubbling laugh when you two were allowed in the yard, sometimes under this member’s supervision.

To your daughter’s delight, they didn’t simply watch you like the handful of others did; they joined in the fun. Just a few weeks ago, she’d convinced him to push her so high on the swing set that she’d gone all the way around--even your heart briefly froze until she’d emerged on the other side, cackling with delight, safe and sound.

They were loyal to Overhaul. Of that there was no doubt. Had they killed for him? Maimed? Tortured? You tried not to think about the things that were done in Overhaul’s name.

Yet they’d betrayed him, all for the sake of your daughter. Part of you feels bitter that they wouldn’t betray him for the sake of you--but then, what was that saying? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was with their help that you were finally able to secure that last necessary piece of the puzzle for your escape: getting out of the secured, monitored gate surrounding the house unnoticed. He told you in hushed, intense tones that he would be on watch duty the night of your escape, that he would take care of the other member assigned that night, and that all you had to do was get out the door at the agreed time with your bag, your daughter, and a good pair of walking shoes. He would drive you as far as he could, and then you two would run, run, run after that.

It was going to work. Your daughter was going to live her life, a real life, not one carefully constructed in captivity. What would you do first, once you were free? The thoughts sometimes made you so giddy that you pinched yourself to calm down. So close, so close to the finish line, and you must be vigilant.

Tonight. You and your daughter are going to leave tonight.

Your daughter is in her bed, tucked in safe and secure. Her eyes are already closed, and Kai is sitting at the edge of the mattress, as always, smoothing down her hair and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. You watch from the doorway with your arms casually crossed, a small, tired, end-of-the-night smile on your lips. It's all so normal, so domestic, isn't it.

"Good night," he says, so soft and sweet that, if you hadn't been pulled out of your deluded coping mechanism, you might find it endearing. Instead, your thoughts scream: This will be the last time you ever see her, you fucked up piece of shit bastard. Oh, do you have a potty mouth when your 'husband' can't hear you...

He leaves your daughter to her dreams and clicks off the little lamp on her nightstand. When he crosses the doorway, you make room and he lets you slide your arm around his, linking yourselves together for the walk to your shared bedroom.

"Tired?" He asks, and you nod. You are tired. Not for the reasons he thinks, and not for the reasons you'll give, but the telltale darkness under your eyes belies the stress of planning your escape from a years-long ordeal.

You sigh, as soft and sweet as his voice was earlier. "Mmhmm. She didn't want to focus on her lessons today. I got a bit frustrated. Sometimes I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher." By now you're in your bedroom and you casually take off your day clothes, dropping them in the labeled hamper in front of the closet. Your stomach twinges with the memory of how he used to look away when you took off your clothes.

But that was long ago, and now he continues the conversation casually as the pair of you strip and change into your respective pajamas. You slip a pink nightie with ruffled bottom over your head as he

"You just need more practice. Are you reading the lesson books before you start class?"

I wouldn't have to read any lesson books if you let her out of this house, if you let her out of school, if you weren't--you stop your thoughts, afraid that they might show on your face. Afraid that you might lose everything at this last, crucial moment.

But you know you look frustrated, so you roll with it. "Yes," you say, voice just the right amount of annoyed in retort. "But if she doesn't want to sit down and focus, me reading the lesson beforehand isn't really going to help, is it?"

He stares at you, and you wonder in a flash if you went too far. But in the next moment, he's simply continuing to button up his shirt. "Is it going to help our daughter learn if you take out your bad day on your husband?" His voice is dripping with the natural condescension that once had you questioning whether or not it was okay to be upset that he'd kidnapped you, and you hate it. But at least it's a sign that he bought your excuses.

You feel a warm flush of shame at the way his condescension still makes you feel less-than. You slide yourself into bed, under the covers, instinctively grabbing the book on your end table and staring down into it like you could simply disappear inside the pages. You can't mess up anything right now. The weight of what you need to do tonight feels so heavy and you can't stop your hands from trembling slightly.

"Sorry," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "It's just hard sometimes. I feel in over my head."

It's Kai's turn to slide under the covers, though he doesn't bother grabbing his own book. Instead he gently pushes on your hands until you set the book on the covers. You know he wants you to look at him, so you do. He looks so gentle, so calm. Did he kill anyone today? Did he insult some hapless victim who crossed his organization, spewing venom with his words, before kissing your daughter goodnight hours later?

His gloved hands tip your chin up and it's a familiar feeling, an intimate feeling, when he pulls you in for a kiss. When he pulls away, he's smiling softly, indulgently. You aren't in trouble. You're good.

"I'll come home for lessons tomorrow and see what I can do. Would you like that?"

I'd like you to drop dead and make this easier on us, you think.

"Yes, Kai."

You smile. You nod. You let out a shaky sigh and lean your shoulders against his, picking up your book and signaling an end to the crisis. He lets you read quietly for a while before turning off the lamp on his side of the bed; it's a wordless signal that you already know: time to sleep. You're a dutiful wife and you put your book away and turn off your lamp and then turn back to your husband and whisper,

"Good night, Kai."

You wait until he's deep asleep to ease your way out of the bed. Every step you take in your padded socks makes you cringe. Will the floor creak? Will you make too much noise? Will you have to come up with a half-assed excuse as he comes to, groggily asking what you're doing? You feel like you can't breathe, but you do breathe, soft and shallow as you make your way to the bedroom door.

You didn't dare keep anything related to your escape in your shared bedroom. The door feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as you ever-so-slowly open it, keeping your head turned towards the man sleeping on the bed all the while. He doesn't stir. He simply continues to snore, even as the door opens enough for you to slip out.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you cross the hallway and into the spare room that you used as a playroom and, lately, a makeshift school. The bag you packed is in the closet, tucked behind bags of school supplies that you'd asked Kai to pick up in order to make sure that your escape bag didn't stand out. You grab it swiftly, along with your daughter's outdoor shoes, and make your way to the most dangerous element of your escape: your daughter's room.

She did so well. You remind yourself to praise her once you're away from the house, once you're in a car and making noise isn't a life or death dilemma. You built up the idea of your escape bit by bit over the past few weeks. You couldn't tell her that her father was a monster who kidnapped you, but you could prey on her desire to see more, to go beyond the rules established in her father's domain.

Don't you want to meet other kids? Go to the beach, feel the sand underneath your feet? Meet... your grandma? We'll just take a secret trip, you and me, and then come back to Papa when we're done. Then he'll see that it's safe to leave and come with us next time. But you have to keep it a secret. You can't tell him a thing, or we won't be able to go. You can keep a secret, can't you?

You kneel next to your daughter's bed and gently wake her up, whispering her name and stroking her hair, so she slowly opens her eyes in confusion before her gaze lands on your face and ah, a smile--it's just mom.

"Mama?" She asks, a bit too loudly for your liking.

"Shh baby," you say. "Yes, it's mama. Are you ready to go?" You see the tentativeness, the childish confusion in the way she nods. She doesn't know what real life is yet, she doesn't have an inkling of the freedom that she's lost, but she will.

You don't bother changing. You have a pair of clothes in the bag and you'll change when you're in a safer space. For now, you take her hand and lead her down the staircase, your chest tightening with every step. You can't help but glance back at the still-open doorway leading to your bedroom. You pray to whatever is listening that he won't wake up. Each step is a step closer to freedom. Each step is a terrifying risk that you or she might slip, might make noise, might wake him up.

Your spirits lift when you reach the bottom of the stairs. All you have to do is get out the door and he'll be waiting there with the key and a getaway car and freedom.

You clutch your daughter's hand, your own palm now sweaty; you nearly trip on a toy you forgot to pick up earlier, but thankfully the light in the entryway was turned on (you must have forgotten to turn it off) and you see it just in time to avoid disaster. You squeeze your daughter hand and turn the corner that leads to the entryway of your home--

Where Chisaki Kai is standing, waiting for you, his eyes practically illuminated by the glowing lamp light.

You drop the bag.

"No," you say. "No." Your mind suddenly feels fuzzy, like its buzzing, drowning out all of your thoughts with a pure denial of what you see in front of you.

"How--how did you--" you sputter, unable to continue voicing your question. It was all planned. It was all practiced. You pretended, you waited, you planned--for four years. How? How did he know?

He doesn't have to answer. You know the moment that your daughter's grip slips out of your hand and she runs up to her father, feet thumping on the floor. She clings to his side and doesn't look at you, and he runs a hand through her hair without taking his eyes away from your shaking form.

Of course she told him. Of course she told her papa that you wanted to leave. She loved him. Why wouldn't she? It was all she'd ever known. You were breaking the rules, breaking the structure that dominated her life since she could remember.

"Please don't be mad at me, mama." Your daughter whimpers against Kai, and you can hear the tears in her little voice, and your heart aches for her in so many ways.

"I'm not," you whisper. "I'm not mad at you, baby." You're just sad, so sad. It hurts. All of it.

"Sweetheart," Kai says, voice surprisingly calm despite the events, "go back to bed while I help your mother unpack your things, all right?"

Your daughter nods and suddenly she's against you, hugging you in a tight, childish way; you only have enough energy to pull your arm around her, limp and heavy, patting her back without really feeling it before she scampers up the stairs.

You're left alone. With him.

He approaches you slowly and you feel like an animal. There's wildness hammering in your heart and the thought comes up, unwillingly: could you still run? Escape on your own? And hope that some day, your daughter escapes and finds you? But the thought of leaving her behind is impossible to indulge in for more than a second, and you know that without her, your life isn't worth living. The thought of abandoning her to Kai Chisaki brings up an immediate sense of revulsion and guilt and shame.

"What were you thinking?"

You aren't looking at him, but you don't have to be looking at him to know that he's glaring at you. Looking down on you with his gaze filled with righteous justifications. You glance and--yes, he is, but there's something darker, something you’d forgotten, underneath. Your stomach suddenly feels loaded with weights and your legs move backwards, pulling you away from him, away from the anger that feels like it's radiating off him in waves.

He suddenly grips your chin with brutal force and yanks your jaw forward, forcing you to look at him.

"I had to kill one of my most trusted men today because of your..." His eyes dart back and forth for a moment, before he spits out the apparently perfect description of your escape attempt. "Hysteria. An absolute waste of potential, all because of your ridiculousness."

Your mouth is dry. Your voice is hoarse. But you speak up, anyway. You've already lost everything.

"It's not ridiculous to want to get out of here."

The weight of the years seems to press down on your shoulders, pounding into your bones, screaming in your ears.

"It's not ridiculous to--to want to take my daughter away from the man who kidnapped me and forced me to pretend like I was happy here, like I was happy living in some--" you cough, needing moisture, but not daring to stop to swallow lest you lose your courage. "--glorified dollhouse while you tell me what to do and what to wear and how to act and when to fuck you and when to have a baby and fuck you, fuck you, just fuck you Kai. I hate you. Oh I fucking hate you."

You don't notice as your voice gets louder, emboldened by the adrenaline that's been crashing through you since you opened the bedroom door, until his hand is gripping your upper arm in a show of brute, vise-length strength.

"Lower. your. voice."

His grip strengthens until you cry out, and then it gradually loosens without letting you go completely.

For the next few moments, you do nothing but stare at one another. Your mind feels hazy, darting from thought to thought. It was all for nothing. The last four years, all for nothing. But you think about your daughter, about what she may have been able to accomplish outside of these walls, and even the fantasy of a free life for her made it worth something--didn't it?

It's his voice that lowered, now, as he lets you go completely and straightens himself up. All business now. But what business will he engage in, this time?

"Perhaps you do need a vacation," he says, finally. Firmly. He's made a decision.

You wonder if he's lost his mind and you're about to ask as much before he continues.

"Did you know this house has a secret room? It's nice and quiet. The perfect place for you to recuperate until you've regained your senses."

The room, the room, the room.

Your hand instinctively claps against your mouth as you cry out.

After all, you don't want to wake your daughter up with your screams.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #yandere x reader #overhaul x reader #afterwitch writes

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years ago

Text

Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

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