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jjungkooksthighs · 11 months

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (14)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: fluff and angst, abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: The Duels of the Chosen begin, and the alphas battle the right to take the omega as their own.

Warnings: CHARACTER INJURY, LOTS OF BLOOD MENTIONS, GORE (this will not be for people who are squeamish with blood/gore), dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, alpha!Taehyung, alpha!Jimin, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, dirty talk, marking, manhandling

A/N: Hello, all! It’s been some time, but we are back again with another update! I have been very busy with work and school, so that was one of the reasons this took so long. The other reason was that I knew a lot of you were waiting specifically for the long-anticipated fight, and so I became overly critical of myself and didn’t like anything I wrote. This is a chapter that was one of my first ideas for this story, so I wanted it to be as perfect as I envisioned it in my head. Nothing I wrote could match that, and finally I became resolved to just writing without stopping or editing until the end. I hope that you all find this to meet your expectations, given that it is over twenty pages long. Oh, and let me know what you think about that cliffhanger at the end (or anything about this chapter because comments are like the bread and butter of writers), yeah?

Series Masterlist

It is as if time itself has grown tired as the seconds slowly tick by, the silver circlet twining itself around your head becoming heavier the longer it stays nestled there.

It saps your senses and strength away to leave you entirely incapable of movement and thought. In some cases, it even dulls emotions. It was why the substance was forbidden to be used except in ceremonial rites like the Duels of the Chosen.

Soon, even managing a thought becomes a challenge in how the silver intertwists you in numbness in your own head. Even your eyelids fall lower over your eyes in how leaden they have become.

The sound of something distinctly metal comes from somewhere near your feet. It takes a moment for you to drag your irises down your mate’s body to where his hand is fiddling with the bolt holding the first latch closed on the brown wooden box at your feet. The box, like its counterpart that has yet to be opened, is bigger than the one your diadem had come from.

His long fingers easily flick up on the last latch to the second of the three wooden boxes that are of a sepia, umber, and burnt sienna make. It is the second largest box of the three. What your alpha reveals is on a bed of white velvet and you see not one, but two pieces laid under one another that shine in the moonlight.

They are identical and appear to be a kind of cuff for your wrist in their size. They, like are your diadem, have twisting and tangling silver strands that root from the bottom of the piece to the top, and interspersed throughout the bevy of liana-like tendrils, you can make out small, intricately forged flowerets not unlike the curtain of vines that flowers of all colors and sizes cling to along the stony wall hiding the creek that you used to habit.

It's a task to summon the memories of that place with the circlet that siphons away your cognition. Every time you try, what you are searching for seems to swim away from you in the sea of darkness that has swept your mind in its sway.

“Forgive me, my beautiful flower,” your mate’s voice lifts your very soul as you watch him undo the clasps of the first piece, his digits working the hook with ease and, from his knees, he reaches for your arm while he says, “the tradition is that you must be bedecked in silver before I am allowed to go fight. I fear I may not even make it that far if I do not do this now.” His calloused fingers wrap around your forearm and he turns it so that the underside of your arm is extended to him as he lifts the silver cuff toward it with the other. He doesn’t release your forearm, but instead curls his fingers tighter over your bare flesh as he says, “But gods, you test me so.”

Trying to put together words or sentences is like trying to fish in a dark, murky river. As for your emotions, even they have begun to grow dormant under the waters of dullness that try to quiet them.

It's all you can do to let your head fall to the side in question, the leaf-shaped crystal hanging from the middle of your diadem reflecting the light of the moon.

Attuned to you as ever, your alpha grins, “All I meant is that you have a very, very powerful effect on me, my love.” He guides your arm forward until the back of your hand rests on his shoulder. Then, his fingers are gone and he fits the adornment over your wrist as he hooks the first of the five blossoming fastenings along the undersurface of the bracelet over one another while he confesses, “I wanted to keep kissing you,” he closes the last of the fastenings over your wrist before bringing it to his mouth and placing his lips over your bloodied palm before he turns your now limp arm back over so that you can put your dead weight on his shoulder. Then, he’s grabbing your other so that he can adorn it, too, as he tells you, “I wished to keep tasting you,” a pink tongue glides along his lip where your blood now coats it, a groan slipping from him whilst he secures the fixing on the other wrist cuff as he admits, “And I wanted to keep exploring your body.”

You can only whimper in answer, but even that sound is now muted to your own ears as if you have cloth stuffed in them while the silver sifts out the energy from your body like a drain where the metal touches your flesh. It is heavy as a rock, and your wrist is trapped within it as you whimper.

Your alpha’s eyes soften at that, and still on knees, he reaches for the third and largest of the ornately carved boxes. Somehow, his digits work even slower now on this one.

You do not think about why. All you can do is sit and watch as a tethering torpor climbs up your arm like a fungus from where the silver cuffs bind them.

“You probably have already realized it by now, omega,” his eyes are locked on yours when his fingers find the hem of your gown behind your ankle and then he’s balling it in his hand, “but it gives me no pleasure to bind you up like this. I am very well acquainted with what silver does to our kind. I made this silver for you, but I also had to make it for myself, too.” He’s careful to lay both of your hands on your lap, “the only reason I am still capable of basic movement while touching it is because I seem to have made myself somewhat tolerant to it with how much I’ve had it on me during my ruts,” golden irises find yours when he adds, “ruts that I could not spend with you until you had accepted me.”

Your heart gives a weak pang against your ribcage at that.

“I’m almost done, sweetheart. Bear with me.” He tugs up on the ovular clasp on the third, final and biggest of the wooden boxes–this one the length of your calf in its size–before pushing inward, and then he’s lifting up the top of the box to reveal two grandiloquent adornments that you’ve never seen anything the likes of before.

It takes some time to process what they are, but you cannot ignore how wondrously they glint in the firelight that makes them sparkle bright as the stars.

With his hand still gripping at your skirts, your alpha coaxes your knees apart so that he can resituate himself and put one of his knees between yours.

It is a strange thing to be so silent, but you know if you didn’t have this silver on you right now, you would be begging.

Your alpha must know it, because he chuckles when he coaxes your left leg up and onto his so that your foot rests on his thigh, and gods, the sight of him on his knees for you has familiar heat stirring between your legs as your sex cries for him.

The wind chooses that moment to wind around you, and then your alpha is cursing under his breath, his fingers tightening in your skirt as he cusses, “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, omega.”

His movements hasten then, and his eyes dilate in desire. You feel your skirt ascend and climb along your leg until he’s got it bunched up atop your knee, but it is a blur after that the muted sound of a clink. You don’t even realize that he’s fitted the piece over your calf and pulled together the three clamps only with one hand along the back of your leg before he’s heaving a heavy breath and leaning forward to utter, “It is a good thing I am touching this silver and that it deafens my senses to an extent, because if it didn’t,” his lips brush the inside of your knee as he mouths, “I’d have likely been unable to stop myself from standing and taking you against this fucking tree you sit on.”

You have half a mind to tell him you want it, that you want him, but words do not come. Every time you seek them, they bury themselves in the silt of your brain and no matter how hard you try, the silver circling your head hides them from you.

All you can manage is a stuttered,” Ah..al…alpha.”

At the sound of your voice, your alpha’s irises contract from between your thighs as he looks up at you. “Here, my love. I am here.”

You wish you could speak more to him. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would-

“I can hear your desire as much as I can smell it, my love,” your alpha tells you as he brings his lips over to the other side of your knee and he presses his mouth to your skin, “your pre-heat is making you fucking needier as the seconds pass, pretty girl.”

You make an effort to make your thighs meet, but the leg that he’d just wrapped silver in does not heed your mind or your instinct.

You pout. It’s all your body has energy left to do.

You hadn’t noticed it before now, but the usual softness, warmth and wetness of his mouth and fingers was gone. Stolen by the silver that drew sensation away until little to none remained.

Suddenly, there’s something hard gliding along your upper shin, and when your alpha’s mouth leaves you, two fresh, new punctures dot your skin along the base of your knee.

You had not felt him bite you. There had not been any pain due to the dulling effect of the silver just beneath his mark.

Crimson now lines his mouth and he lets it descend from the middle of his lower lip and down his bare neck. You lick your lips as you watch it, your tongue dense as a stone.

Jealousy hangs low in your gut over you in how your own blood gets to trail down his body and you can only watch. Your alpha’s mouth curves up at that, and two canines, each red with your blood, protrude from under his lips.

“Worry not, my love,” your alpha’s fingers find your other ankle and he guides it up so that your foot rests on his leg, his head dipping between your thighs while his digits tug the ball of fabric of your skirts higher so that he has more access to you, “I will satisfy every single one of your fantasies, every single one of your dreams, and every single one of your cravings,” his mouth finds the tender flesh of your inner thigh as he angles his head to the side, your own lips parting as his tongue slides from between his to lick you as he says, “I’ll let you have me anyway you wish, my love. Anything to make you happy, pretty.”

You latch onto that word. You try to follow the line he’s thrown you in the river of languor, and you can manage through the current of listlessness, “Y-yours…w-want to-“

You try again, but attempting to get your head above the water of stupor that has settled around you is too much.

Your alpha coos, “Oh, my omega. I hear you. I see you,” He suckles at your flesh before lightly biting down the same time you hear that clinking sound again, his freed hand placing the other silver adornment along your shin only for the sinking of all of his teeth into your flesh to feel as if he were only nipping you. “I feel your very blood trying to give itself to me like this. How badly I want to give in to you, my little vixen.”

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” your grandmother’s voice sounds in the distance from where she stands on her place at the edge of the timbered stage, “It is time. She is more than ready for you to go to battle.”

“Give me a moment,” your alpha declares.

You do not hear her at first. The sounds and vocables mix together and you can only discern bits of pieces of it.

Not…not ready…alpha…

They are the only words that you can remember long enough to think them.

In front of you, your alpha’s tongue drifts to and fro over the wounds he’d left on your thigh.

I must, my love. I must.

His voice finds you even though his mouth doesn’t move.

You attempt to reach for him, to get closer to him, but it’s as if a weight has been attached to your arm and no matter how much you attempt it, it is too heavy to move. As if to soothe the frustration you let out in the form of a shaky sigh, he gives you featherlight kisses anywhere and everywhere that he can along your thigh before he turns his head inward toward your other and opens his mouth to mold it against you, his tongue laving at you ardently.

The attention has your core clenching around nothing.

Before he departs from between your legs, his digits finish their work in securing the clamps along the back of the other piece of silver he’d put over your shin.

Like the air, his fingers are ever present and wind over the silver etchings he’d forged for you until they roam to the front of the adornment he’d just attached to you. The knuckles of the hand he has tangled your skirts has gone snow white in the tight grip he has on the thin fabric.

He’s holding it like it is a lifeline, and honestly, it just might be. He’s all that is grounding you right now.

“Stars above, my love, you charm me even when silence and stillness have stolen what is only mine to have,” he gently helps you to put your feet back on the grass, his golden irises sowing themselves deep into yours as he does, “I used to think about what you might look like all tied up and bound for me, but none of my imaginings could ever be as good as this.” He rises to stand above you and it only takes two of his fingers under your chin to lift it enough so that you can keep your gaze on him, your bare neck exposed for him as he inspects his handiwork while he goes on, “You haven’t any clue just how seductive you can be when you aren’t even trying, omega. Look at yourself.”

Distantly, relief trickles over you at how fucking responsive your alpha is to you. You wouldn’t have otherwise been able to move your head so that you could look upon him given that the rest of your body isn’t responding to what the apex between your legs has been sobbing over this entire time.

Your wolf sluggishly stirs at his command, and you do as you are told with your head empty of everything except the need to satisfy him.

It takes some effort. Drawing your eyeline away from him is like towing an anchor through a muddy seafloor. The red paint of your own blood that you’d etched all over him has darkened even more in its dryness across his muscled arms and corded chest. Lighter trails of it have swept themselves down his neck from where it drips from his lips from his earlier ministrations, and with the hooded look in his eyes and wild black hair that curls around his chiseled face, he looks like he wants to devour you.

You know that you’d let him. In the back of your mind, the image of him with his head trapped between your legs, your ankles thrown over his shoulders and his lips wrapped around your pussy flashes. It sends wetness between your already slicked folds.

“Lustful little thing,” your alpha groans when your scent reaches his nostrils, “Stop thinking about getting fucked, pretty girl. I told you I would take care of that when this is over. Now look at yourself,” he orders.

His fingers that he’s kept under your chin lower your head so that you have no choice but to look ahead where he wants you to. You don’t have the strength to move it on your own anymore.

The first thing you notice is that he’s still got your skirts rolled up between his now snow-white knuckles. The second thing you notice is the skin of your thighs is now painted in bloodied trails of your essence that circle and tread toward the very bindings that your alpha had just put on you. The third thing you notice is that just below your knee, rivulets of silver run along your shins and calves. Like they have dripped from the rocks of the creek you often played in as a child and found respite in as an adult, the silver drizzles down your leg until it pools around your ankle in the thick band of metal that encircles it.

“C-creek?” you let the heavy, rolling tide of that thought bring the word forth from your lips.

“Yes, sweetheart. I had hoped to capture the essence of the places you love the most in all of the pieces I made by hand for you,” his fingers loosen around the clump of your skirts under his fingers, and slowly, it descends down your knee, your shin, and then finally your ankle as you both watch. “It’s not a perfect replication, but a lot of silver passed through my hands in my mission to make something only you would be able to wear and bear.”

Affection courses through your veins as steadily as the blood that runs through your body at his words.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” the sound of wood rattles against the platform she stands upon when your grandmother strikes the timbered stage with a staff of oaken bark to announce, “With your preparations complete, you must now head to the battle grounds you have chosen where your challengers await your arrival. If you have anything else you wish to say to your intended or to the pack, you must do so now.”

Without taking his eyes off of you, your alpha answers, “I do have something to say.” He coaxes your chin upward with the fingers he still has planted there, and then sunlight in the form of irises finds yours. His voice is carried only to you in the small breeze that blows over you. “I want you to know, omega,” his thumb slides along the cleft of your chin, “that I love you. And this fight…I do it for you. Everything I do and have done up until now has all been for you, my love.” He tilts his head up, his lips finding the spot between your brows just under the crystal that hangs from your circlet and then mouthing, “Be a good for me until I come back to you. I will return shortly.”

You bite at the log he’s thrown you, only a few words leaving you because the rest had sunken under the murky waters of thought in your head.

“Good,” you can’t even scrunch your brows together in consternation anymore because of how leaden even those have become. Your jaw hardly even moves when you speak, because doing so is impossible with the muscles that refuse to respond to you as you say between parted lips, “b-be good for…for y-you. R-ret…return shortly.”

That seems to satisfy the alpha, for he rumbles against you in response. “That’s my girl.”

His mouth leaves you, and though you can’t really feel their warmness or softness anymore because of the silver, you miss them already.

He gives you one last glance, and in those eyes of his, and compassion clings to them as they cross over you.

You want to reach for him. You want to feel those arms of his around you. You want him to stay with you. That thought sinks away from you even though you try to swim after it.

Stay… alpha.

Your alpha steps back, shaking his head as he does.

I will never have to leave you once this is over, my love. Trust in me. I will not fail you.

With those words he sends through your bond, he turns away from you. Panic somehow worms its way into your gut as you watch.

Your alpha’ voice is firm as a tree stump and sturdy as the bark of one when he speaks again as the grass crunches under his feet. “To any alpha here-mated or unmated-do not go near the omega. My omega,” he adds. “Get within in one foot of her, and I will hunt you down.”

Before him, the males put an arm over their front and pound their fist into their chest one by one.

The sea of alphas and omegas part like a river for him, and no one stands in his way as he walks, his shoulders set proudly as he moves with confidence cording his muscles.

You try to whimper, but the sound is lost somewhere in your throat.

The other wolves cluster to one of two sides so that you have nothing blocking your sight from him as he treads on through the grass that catches his feet, the firelight of the braziers set every few feet bathing him in a golden glow. The red paint of blood he wears like a second skin, and it is a dangerous warning to the three that stand several paces apart from each other in the distance ahead.

The continual crunch of grass under your alpha’s feet continues until the grass yields to the dirt of the plain by the old knoll that had stood since the old times.

Your alpha halts, resolve now set in those eyes of his.

Before him to his left, Taehyung stares with a sneer on his face. In the middle of the field, ahead of your alpha is Yoongi, the russet-haired male that has his arms crossed over his chest. To his right, Jimin bares his teeth.

Your alpha reveals his own teeth to them all.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” the voice of your grandmother descends over the plain as she ambles, with two other elders, down the stage toward the mound before the plain, “As you have been named the Omega Y/N’s champion, you have been granted the battle rights and so you may choose the terms of this battle.” She peregrinates still, the thick furs around her shoulders unmoved even in her shaky footfalls, “No one may contest your decisions, and your choices are final once given. If any wolf breaks these terms, he will be disqualified and deemed unfit to take the omega as his own. Do you all understand?”

“Yes,” your alpha, without missing a breath, answers.

The other three males nod.

“Very well. Chosen one, do you wish to take on all of your opponents at once, one at a time, or in any sequential order?” She makes it to the top of the knoll, her knees popping as she does.

“I will take on Yoongi alone. The other two I will fight together. It matters not to me which I battle first.” Jungkook asserts.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Scared, Jeon?”

Taehyung laughs under his breath. Jimin cringes at the sound.

“Keep dreaming, Yoongi. I know how dirty you play,” Jungkook picks an invisible fleck of dust off his shoulder.

“Will you fight in your human form, or will you shift to your lupine form?” The elder in grayed, wiry furs is unphased.

“The first battle I will fight as a human. My second I will fight as a wolf. The others will do the same.”

“Will you be using any weapons in your first fight?”

“Hands, teeth, and claws,” your alpha decides.

“Will this be to the death or to the surrender of the fallen combatants?”

“To the surrender. I do not wish to lose any of my alphas. Even if they are a pain in the ass.”

“Are there any other conditions you would like to set, Pack Alpha Jungkook?”

Your alpha’s eyes harden on each of the males before him. “Any wolf that falls in combat will bear those marks for the rest of his life. I will allow no healers or menders to their side unless the injury is life-threatening.”

“Those conditions will be met. Anything else?” The elder beside your grandmother asks.

“Yes. One more thing,” your alpha is unwavering as he takes a step forth, “No challenger may leave the perimeter of these grounds we stand on until the victor has been declared.”

“As you say,” the aged wolf on the other side of the lead elder says.

The rustle of trees sweeps over the land from the woodland around, and the fire of the braziers circling the arena of dirt is swept with the wind until all is quiet again.

Your alpha keeps his back to you, and so fixated on him, you do not see your grandmother lift her hand, the sound of horns filling the air as the two elders beside her blow into the wooden tusks with holes cut into them that they’d produced from the folds of their furs that cover the whole of their body.

“I will remind you, Jeon Jungkook, that as you are the current Pack Alpha, your title and rank will be stripped from you should you lose this battle. The victor will take your title, rank, and your intended should you be unable to beat them in combat,” The two elders at your grandmother’s side speak together, their voices melding into one, “Do you understand and agree to these terms?”

Your alpha doesn’t even flinch at the prospect. “I am aware of what will happen should I fail to be victorious. I consent to those terms.”

“Should any alpha fail to comply with these conditions, they will be exiled, and if it is the victor’s decision, he may decide to exile or end the lives of those he defeats.” The elders wait for all four males to acknowledge this with affirmations before: “Now, with the terms and agreements that have been given,” the elder in gray from atop the knoll who stands as the intercessor of the four alphas below voices, “Let the battle begin.”

For a few moments, all the males do is stand and stare between one another, no one willing to make the first move.

Your alpha is patient, so he waits. He has spent a long, long time waiting for you.

Worry snakes around your chest, its slithery movement slow and lazy as you watch your alpha’s muscles in his back tense as if he’s preparing to be attacked.

As if he can smell your concern, he turns his head to the side, his irises softening as they silently seek yours.

Worry not, my love. Just watch me. This will all seem like a dream in only a short while.

“The hell with this,” comes a dry remark from Taehyung, who shrugs off his black rabbit furs, the bones cracking from between his knuckles as he claws at his black linen shirt so that it falls in shreds at his feet, “I’ve been waiting for a chance to get revenge for what you did to my fucking shoulder, Jeon,” Taehyung covers the five circular wounds in his flesh, his eyes boring holes into your alpha, “and I will finish what I started with the female and make you grovel while I do it.”

“Oh, shut up already, Taehyung,” Jimin throws off his own furs, his eyes narrowing on the brown haired wolf who had just spoken, “I should destroy you first for what you did to my sister. To me,” he rips his own shirt from his body, “You fucking asshole.”

“Can you both just come at me already? I’m getting bored over here,” Your alpha stretches an arm behind his back, “Unless you’d like to let Yoongi have a go at me first?”

“Fuck off, Jeon,” Yoongi picks at his nails, “you two had better start ripping into some limbs, or I will.”

“No,” Taehyung pushes off his haunches and is off, “he’s mine.”

Jimin is on his tail the second he moves. Your alpha is still even though there’s a male running toward him and another behind that one. Taehyung’s arm lifts, his claws in the air and then he’s upon your alpha.

Fear constricts your stomach at the sight.

The brown-haired wolf draws his arm down in an arcing motion as if to slash at your alpha’s chest, but before it can make it there, your alpha’s hand, fast as lightning, races through the air and he grips Taehyung’s wrist with force, each of his nails sinking into the alpha’s wrist as if it were water. The brown-haired alpha barks in pain, his eyes unseeing of the other alpha behind him as he does.

Jungkook smirks, and with no effort, he swings his other arm back, his fingers clenching into a fist and then that fist makes contact with Taehyung’s stomach. Hard. The brown-haired alpha is flung like a pebble into the air and the impact of the throw has his head colliding with Jimin’s so that there’s a loud thud as Taehyung’s skull hits the other’s that is hard as a stone.

“Surely you both can do better than that? I’m a little disappointed. I wasn’t expecting much from Taehyung considering he’s never been that great a fighter,” your alpha wrinkles his nose in disgust at the fresh blood that now coats his hand as he looks down at it, “but Jimin? You usually are faster than that. It’s unlike you.”

“Basta-“ Jimin is silenced when Jungkook impels his foot down on his abdomen to knock the breath out of him.

Your alpha’s tone is devoid of any warmth when he chides, “I thought I told you not to address me with such disrespect.” He stomps on the downed alpha’s chest again, the rib beneath it cracking like a twig as Jimin yips in affliction.

Taehyung gets to his feet and swings, but Jungkook uses the body of Jimin like he’s a stepping stone to jump to the other side so that Taheyung misses and your alpha tuts, “Ah, ah, ah, Taehyung. It is rude to try to punch someone when they’re looking.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Taehyung curses, and when he swings again, Jungkook jumps back with inhuman speed. Across from him, he just narrowly misses Jimin who had rolled to his belly and pushed off his hands to get up.

Jungkook flicks his bloodied hand toward the ground as if to get it off and red dots the ground before he taunts, “You know, I’ve always thought you smelled absolutely rancid, Taehyung,” he wipes the remains on his trousers, “but I didn’t think it was possible for you to smell worse than the bottom of a fucking bog.”

Taehyung responds by yelling out the Pack Alpha’s name, and then he’s making another dash for him. Jungkook isn’t even phased by it. He just steps sideways so that the alpha’s claws and open maw miss him completely. Jimin comes for him next, but he dives toward the ground and rolls when the other alpha tries to swipe at his side from below.

Yoongi, the passive bystander, stays where had been since the beginning and files at his nails using a rock he’d picked up.

Meanwhile, Taehyung scampers like a wild man toward Jungkook. Anger has turned the whites of his eyes red, and his movements only grow more erratic the longer he battles.

When Jungkook rises to his feet once more, he grins at the sight. “Always so quick to anger,” he spins when the brown-haired alpha’s arm descends downward, “and always so easy to defeat.” He rotates the other direction when Taehyung’s attempts to uppercut him, “I knew you would not be difficult to defeat from the moment I threw you against that tree in the fucking forest when you talked back to me. When you dared to disrespect and defile my intended with your tongue,” Jungkook’s fist ascends toward his maw, but the brown-haired wolf holds up both arms in front of his face to block. The force of the blow knocks his arms away from his face, one of his elbows pushed up into an area of his arm that it doesn’t belong as he curses loudly and the wolf staggers backward away from Jungkook, who mocks, “I should take your tongue for all its slander, but taking that ego and pride from you will hurt you more than that ever could.”

Jimin sprints so that he’s waiting on the opposite side of your alpha, but before his outstretched foot can make contact with Jungkook’s stomach, his calf is caught by Jungkook’s fingers. Your alpha keeps that leg in his hold, his claws elongating and puncturing the flesh there so that Jimin winces and cries out.

Momentarily seized by the pain, Jimin grabs at his leg while Jungkook reprimands, “and you, Jimin…You used to be such a good friend to me. I have missed your presence and friendship.” He headbutts the male, “Were you not distracted by Taehyung, you might have actually made me break a sweat.”

The scraunch of dirt sounds from behind him, and Jungkook crouches as Taehyung catapults himself toward him. He hurls Jimin to the ground, and Taehyung’s teeth embed themselves into Jimin’s chest as the two tumble to the ground. In the scuffle, Jungkook’s claws that had been lodged in Jimin’s thigh had cut through his flesh like it was fluid, and blood sprays all around them before Jimin lands with a deafening thump on the dirt that is stirred up in a cloud around the males.

When it clears, a motionless Jimin is lain under Taehyung, who extracts his claws from around his heart and rises without even glancing his direction. Crimson gushes from the downed alpha’s wounds, his skin torn and mangled from his thigh all the way to his foot where his lifeblood flows out of him like a red sea. Bone peeks from beneath the five angry incisions that sever his skin from itself along his leg and his chest heaves with labor where the blood pushes itself out from the five punctures around his heart.

Agitation dots your alpha’s face where Jimin’s blood does not, his entire chest now speckled with crimson that you had not put there.

He had not wanted this to end in death for any under his charge.

“This is your fault, Jeon,” Taehyung spits, “If you had just fucking stood still, you would be on the fucking ground right now, and your little bitch would already be mine.”

That has your alpha’s irises lifting to his. They are colder than ice as he narrows them, “First you defile Jimin, who became your friend because I told him to, and then you insult my intended. Tell me, Taehyung, whose fault is it that you can’t even use your fucking shoulder where my claws severed some of the nerves there when the sun was setting?”

“Hmm,” Taehyung puts a bloody hand to his chin, “I would say it was the she-wolf who is to blame. I wanted to fuck her, and she didn’t want me to. You got in the way.”

“You will never touch her,” Jungkook lifts his lip so his teeth are on display, “and you will never have her,” your alpha growls, “not as long as I live and fucking breathe. I’ll break every bone in your body starting from your toes to your ribs if that’s what it takes to make you understand that.”

“Just as long as it’s not my face. I need that,” Taehyung’s sarcasm is loud, “the bitches I screw love it too much.”

With that, Jungkook roars so even the mountains beyond shake, and he rushes forward toward the brown-haired alpha. He moves with such speed that even the wind cannot blow past him, and it is over in seconds.

One second, your alpha is in front of the older wolf. The next, he’s sliding along the ground under Taehyung’s parted legs, the dirt scattering around him like the bones of prey after a hunt. Jungkook puts one arm out to steady himself before he turns off his heel and rises so he’s stood

behind the unexpecting alpha, and there’s no time for Taehyung to react before both of your alpha’s bloodied claws cut through the air like daggers and he’s dug them deep into the other alpha’s shoulders. Taehyung wails in pain as his freshly dressed wounds are reopened next to five new wounds on his other shoulder where red drips slowly from both shoulders down his bare, naked chest.

He thrashes in your alpha’s hold, but your alpha is stronger, and he knocks Taehyung’s knees out from under him so that he falls onto them in the black dirt.

“You’ve lost once again, you fool,” Jungkook utters, his claws tearing at the other’s flesh every time he thrashes, “now you can atone, at least a little, in your defeat.”

As they are, they both face you, and your alpha’s irises pierce yours when he orders, “Tell my intended that you’re sorry for debasing her with your speech and your actions. Tell her you will never do it again. That you’ll never pursue her again.”

Taehyung snaps, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, but it is,” your alpha decides with derision, “It very much is.”

Taehyung attempts to wriggle out of his hold. Jungkook punishes him, his flesh tearing and ripping where Jungkook twists his claws deeper into him. Taehyung bellows in agony. More blood scatters down his back.

Jungkook huffs, only to extricate his claws from the male’s shoulders and kick him square in the back so that he falls to chest, his arms giving out on him with the way that the nerves had been cut and rearranged in the gory mutilation of his shoulders where flabs of skin barely hang on by a thread.

“Say it,” Jungkook orders as he stands tall above him. “I’m growing weary of waiting. I don’t want to have to use Alpha’s Bidding on you, but I will if I must.”

Taehyung remains silent minus the coughs where more blood spews forth from his lips. He must have bitten his tongue in the fall.

Though he can’t use his dislocated arm, he can still use his other one. That, and his legs.

Before he can even get his first foot on the ground, Jungkook’s hand darts out and his fingers project themselves over and around Taehyung’s neck so that he is held up under Jungkook’s digits. The Pack Alpha squeezes with enough force that Taehyung’s face begins to turn red, his breaths stuttering as his arms unsuccessfully attempt to pull the raven-haired alpha off.

“You’re weak, Taehyung. You always have been, and you always will be. Now give the fuck up already.” Your alpha urges him, the bite in his tone making the wolves around you shudder.

“I’d rather be fucking exiled.” Taehyung attempts to throw his only remaining good arm behind him, but Jungkook seizes his bicep in an iron grip.

Your alpha sighs with exasperation, tsking, “You really should know when to give up, you motherfucker.”

“You don’t say,” Taehyung goads.

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his golden irises flickering as he mulls it over. Those irises settle on yours, and then your alpha’s lips set in a thin line before he acts.

There’s no hesitation when he twists Taehyung’s arm into an unnatural angle, the crack of bones filling the air in warning as the wolf on his knees hisses and howls in agony.

“No,” Jungkook determines, “that would be too easy.” Jungkook’s teeth sharpen and shift so that they are pointed like blades as he growls, “Running would let you forget. But suffering, “ his canines elongate until they extend below his lower lip, “your suffering will haunt you as a wraith for the rest of your life.”

The word has hardly left his lips before Jungkook wrenches Taehyung’s thin arm up, his teeth flashing menacingly before they disappear into Taehyung’s hand, the sickening crack of bones breaking under his teeth as he bites down hard enough that his teeth penetrate the opposite side of his appendage. The male screams, his fingers twitching uncontrollably as blood bursts forth into Jungkook’s mouth.

It is fetid as bile. It is putrid. It is gamy, and Jungkook blanches at its disgusting tang so unlike the sweet sugary taste of your own.

“As much of a thorn in my side as you’ve been, I do not want to see any of the males under my watch be killed. However,” Jungkook throws his head back, his teeth dislodging from around Taehyung’s palm so that an ovular junction of dark holes arc over and under both sides of his hand and then Jungkook’s hoicking crimson spit from his mouth, “that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you for what you’ve done.” He releases Taehyung’s deformed arm that is now bent at an odd direction, his jaw clenching as he says, “It doesn’t mean you are not due for discipline since you seem to have forgotten basic respect and decency.”

“I’ve got plenty of th-“

Before the downed mall can finish, Jungkook slices his serrated claws once across the brown-haired alpha’s back, his expression hardening even though the captured male yelps through the stinging sensations left in his wake, “Silence. I will not hear any more defiance or disrespect from you. You will give me your fealty, or I will make you hurt so much that you’ll never even remember what it was like when you could wake up in the morning and use all of your fucking limbs,” he yanks back on Taehyung’s neck, four of his fingers pricking crescents on one side and his thumb pressing tightly in on the other, his claws dangerously hovering over his nape. Like this, your alpha presents the fallen male to you as he continues, “and you will beg for forgiveness on your hands and knees for daring to deflower my mate in mind and in body, “with the hand that does not hold Taehyung captive, Jungkook’s long, curved claws shear the fallen alpha’s back along the unmarked half, and Taehyung’s eyes go white at that, blood bubbling in his throat as the will to fight falls from him with his blood while Jungkook finishes, “and you will bear these marks I’ve scarred you with for eternity, so that not even the gods may forget your faithless acts of lies and licentiousness with the unknowing omegas you defiled.”

It takes until his cheeks begin to turn blue for him to give a choked sound of defeat, his arms falling loosely at his sides as Jungkook tosses him to the ground as if he were nothing more but a piece of meat next to Jimin, who is still as a corpse next to him.

You grow wetter between your thighs at the display of your alpha’s power. You’d always known he was capable and that he was formidable, but seeing him reduce the pack’s strongest to nothing…it was arousing.

Your alpha bends over between both of the fallen wolves, and then grabs a fistful of hair atop both of their heads and lifts their chins up so that you can see both of their faces.

Taehyung’s face is almost untouched save for the dirt and blood that have caked themselves onto his chin and cheeks. Jimin’s lids are slow to open and close, crimson dribbling from both sides of his stained lips. He is still lain on his back with pieces of his flesh hanging from his leg, the white of his bone peeking through small sections down his leg while his pectorals rising up and down heavily as he heaves air out of his system. His life essence trails sadly down the sides of his ribs.

Taehyung has not fared any better. The bones in both of his arms have been shattered and moved to areas that bones didn’t belong, and his back is marked in several puckered, open valleys of red, angry skin joined by rivers of crimson that make an ‘x’ shape down his back. His limbs are thrown about him where he is prostrate in the dirt next to Jimin.

“This battle is over.” Jungkook states with finality. “Neither of you can continue.”

“I,” Jimin weakly rasps through the blood that bubbles up his throat, “I yield to you, Jungkook. You have beaten me.”

Jungkook’s fingers unthread themselves from Jimin’s hair, his skull landing softly on the ground as Jungkook guides it down. Despite everything, Jimin had once been his friend. Seeing him like this…it was not easy even for the Pack Alpha.

“Get him to the healers. He will bleed out if he’s not tended to immediately.” Jungkook commands, the emotion in his voice held at bay because he knows Taehyung, like a hound, can sniff weakness and prey on it.

Two males depart from the crowd of wolves around them. They do not question your alpha as they lift him carefully off the ground and onto a mat of grass that is attached to a set of wooden poles on each end for them to hold. Before they can walk away, Jungkook holds his only free hand out.

The two males stop immediately.

“You will answer to me from here on,” Jungkook’s eyes blacken in the eclipse from light to dark, his words deep as he spills them, “voice to me your regrets before I have you removed from my sight.”

Jimin can hardly keep his eyes open anymore, his throat aching from wailing too much. Drowsiness from loss of blood makes his eyelids droop, and it’s all he can do to incline his head downward, his eyes closing as he manages, “I have many regrets. One of my biggest,” he hiccups,” was that I thought I could win against you.” Remorse shakes his voice as he lets Jungkook know, “The other was letting Taehyung manipulate me and losing not only our friendship, but the female, too, because of it.”

With that, he’s carried away into a dreamless sleep and the two males extricate him from the battlefield.

“Pussy,” Taehyung hacks up more blood.

“I don’t recall telling you that you could speak. Perhaps I need to give another demonstration to you of just how weak you are,” Jungkook’s other arm raises up, but before it can go near him, Taehyung cringes and buries his face into the dirt.

Taehyung shrieks, “No! Not my face!”

Jungkook lowers his arm, “You’re pathetic, Taehyung. Now give up.”

“Fine. Just don’t ruin my face,” he screws his eyeballs shut, “I was bluffing about what I said before, alright? Alright?”

“I have tried to be a reasonable male,” Jungkook’s fingers bend inward where he still grasps the other male’s hair, and Taehyung’s expression twists in discomfort as your alpha cautions, “But my patience with you is at its end. Yield to me before I break some more bones.”

Taehyung bites down on his tongue, but he has no other options. He knows he’s lost and that he now has no choice but to swallow his pride.

“I…I yield.”

“Good. Now tell her you’re sorry for everything. You had better mean it, or I’ll hurt you even more than I already have.” Jungkook warns.

“Like hell I’ll apologize to a woman.” He defiantly counters.

Your alpha growls, and he stomps with force down on the back of Taehyung’s knee, the bone shattering as he does. “I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion. Do it. Now.”

Taehyung shakes his head into the ground, his trembling digits digging into the dirt as the threads of pride that remain in him all but sever.

“Gods, that pride of yours is really something. Perhaps by losing it, you’ll finally gain some sense again.” Jungkook provokes before his heel bears down powerfully on Taehyung’s other knee, the ligaments beneath fracturing and splintering upon impact.

Taehyung groans in torment, and what little of his pride had been left is torn from the very base of his being as Jungkook whips Taehyung’s head back so that his spine is curved up at an odd angle.

A little while away, some alphas observe Taehyung with expressions of disinterest, disgust, and dismay contorting their countenance for his misconduct toward their leader. The others watch their leader with delight dancing in their eyes. As for the omegas, many cling to another at the gory spectacle. A few glare with hatred toward Taehyung, but many more look in awe at your alpha.

“Cough up the last of your pride, you imbecile, because none will be left after this. If you will not submit of your own accord, I’ll just make you.” Jungkook tosses him to the ground as if he were nothing but a ragdoll, his irises darkening like the night, his words cloaked in the veils of shadows. “I command you to get on your hands and knees. You are to beg my mate for her forgiveness for any time you so much as looked at, thought of, or treated her in a way you knew I would be unhappy with. Then, you’ll pledge your loyalty to me.”

How anyone could refuse Jungkook would never be anything you could comprehend, but under Alpha’s Bidding, no wolf could disobey he who was the strongest of them all.

Taehyung grunts as the wolf inside him moves, and despite the unbearable pain that it causes him, he cannot help it.

He bows his head and his mutilated arms, maimed back, and disfigured legs all fold under him as he bites out between blood, “Forgive me, my lady.”

Words do not find you with the silver dampening all thought in your head. And in your gut, you can’t find it in yourself to care what this male thinks, says, or does.

All that matters to you is the one who stands behind him. All that fills your vision is him, and soon, he was going to fill you.

“The days of your disobedience are over. You obey and you serve me. Tell me this is true.” Jungkook demands, his eyes black as ash and his voice gravelly.

Taehyung can’t even pick his head up, for he’d landed on his nose in the dirt. With his dilapidated arms, he’d not been able to break his fall. It’s a struggle for him to speak between sputtering out the dirt, but he cannot ignore the male standing above him even if he wanted to.

His wolf speaks for him, his defiance dripping out of him with his blood onto the ground at the victorious wolf’s feet. “You are true in what you say.”

Jungkook considers him before bidding, “You will never seek my female ever again, and you will do as I say when I command it of you without question, or I will sever your fingers, your toes, your legs, and your fucking arms from your body with my own hands if I have to. Is that understood?”

Taehyung’s skin crawls at the order, fear setting its teeth on him.

The last of his resolve slithers away from him, his muscles slackening as he concedes, “Understood, Pack Alpha.”

“What does it feel like?” Jungkook cocks his head to the side.

“What does what feel like?” Taehyung’s shoulders slump weakly.

Your alpha’s grin is vicious when he reveals rows of sharp teeth, his canines protruding from under his upper lip, “To lose.”

Those golden irises of his land on you and then they’re scaling over you as in a silent journey to appraise you of injuries even though he’s the one in the middle of the battlefield. They grow brighter the longer they are set on you, and with his attention deposited only on you, he doesn’t hear the pounding of paws against the dirt behind him.

All the veins in your body run cold, panic stabbing you through like an icicle. You are frozen in place under the numbing silver, but don’t care about the throbbing in your head from under your circlet that threatens to drag you into dark unconsciousness. Not even that can snuff out the scream that cuts through the air as a shrill sound rifts through your throat in the pitch of it that leaves the ears of every wolf in the vicinity ringing.

Those golden irises that are bright as the sunrise go dim as the dusk under the shadow of russet fur and snapping jaws.

#alpha!jungkook #werewolf!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #dom!jungkook #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook x you #bts abo

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strstab · 1 year

Text

𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐬 - 𝐣.𝐦

summary ; jj spills beer in your hair and helps you wash it

pairing ; jj maybank x fem!reader

notes ; topless 😓, alcohol mentions, cussing, fluff ofc, small jj mom mentions

a/n ; GUYS. can you help me figure out the word count shit… i saw it a couple weeks ago when writing a small blurb for funsies and now i cant find it ☹️ this one felt kinda long so i thought i’d put the word count but idk where it went… pls send help

“jj what the fuck?!” you felt a wet substance fall in your hair whilst sitting below your boyfriend

you and the pogues were doing your regular saturday night party at the chateau. beers and pizza in the living room. cup pong, ‘winner takes all’. and the occasional sneaking off to do the deed.

you were sitting on the floor, jj on the couch behind you. his legs dangled on each of your sides as he played with your hair quietly, sipping on a white claw.

“what?” he stopped playing with your hair to look down at you. he examined your current state and saw nothing wrong, other than the angry look on your face.

“you spilled god damn beer in my hair!” you started picking at your hair and quickly stood up to run to the bathroom. the last thing you needed was sticky and smelly beer in your hair, especially after you just payed the hair salon a good 60 bucks to cut and do a gloss treatment on it.

the pogues watched you run into the bathroom as kie got up to follow. “it’s fine kie i’ll deal with it-“ jj grumbled knowing he was going to get an earful.

she gave him a look and sat back down next to sarah.

jj knocked on the bathroom door and walked in. In sight was you trying to wet your hair with a pout on your face. “baby i’m sorry, i didn’t realize,”

“it’s fine, j,” you shrugged off your shirt, realizing the sink wasn’t going to do you any good. you rummaged around the mess of shampoos and found the one you used when you came over to sleep with jj and john b.

jj stared at you and decided to turn on the faucet in hopes of being able to help. he won’t ever admit it but, growing up while the times his mom was around, she’d tell him about how to treat a girl. how to make sure she was happy on her period, how to never make her mad, how to comfort her when she needed. and just a couples weeks before his mom got up and left, she taught him how to manage his own hair knowing she wouldn’t be able to sit on the bathroom floor and scrub his scalp for him.

“baby what are you doing?” you turned around and saw him fixing the detachable shower head.

he pulled out a towel and looked at you, “jus gonna help you, love.” you nodded and stepped into the bathtub, grabbing the shampoo and handing it to your boyfriend.

he took the shampoo and placed it next to him as he bent down next to the tub and grabbed the shower head that was dropping out warm water. he wet your hair and started to flip your hair around to get the water to touch your roots in all the right angles.

you shivered and he chuckled in response. “cold?” you shook your head and combed your fingers through the ends of your hair.

“i seen you’ve been taking notes, hm?” he rolled his eyes and laughed. there were days where you’d be showering and he’d decide to join. you’d wash his hair for him, assuming he thought the salt water of the beautiful ocean you and friends swam in everyday was enough to clean it.

“of course baby. gotta learn from the best, y’know?” he pressed a kiss to your temple and started lathering the shampoo in his hands.

he began massaging your scalp, sending tingles down your body. after a couple minutes of that, he rinsed it out with the water and repeated the process, this time with slightly colder water. you conversed about your day apart, not wanting it to be silent and finding this a good bonding time with your boyfriend.

you passed him the bottle of conditioner and he squirted a great amount of conditioner onto his palm. you heard a gasp and flipped your head around. seeing a big dumpling on his hand, you let a sharp inhale take over the silence knowing that it had to be wiped off and would end up a waste of good conditioner.

“umm.. what do i do..” he whispered with a worried look. “do i just.. smear it all in your hair?”

“no! no, don’t. wipe it off baby, like a quarter and a half of it. you don’t need that much,” you replied quickly. god, the amount of grease that would build up in your hair if he did that.

he wiped off the amount you suggested and look at you for approval. you nodded and turned your head back around. he spread the white product on your hair, avoiding the top of your head.

after rubbing it into the ends of your hair, he let it sit and combed his fingers through your hair. “baby,” he mumbled trying to grab your attention

you hummed in response. “hi baby,” you giggled at his soft and tired tone and replied back. “hi my love”

“i missed you,” rubbing his finger on your shoulder and tilting your chin to face him.

“yeah?”

“mhm”

“‘m right here, j,”

he let out an ‘i know’ and pecked at your lips. you pulled away but he pulled you back wanting more. you smiled against his lips and tugged at his hair to let you go.

he pouted and went back to rinsing the conditioner out of your hair.

after thoroughly cleaning your hair, he dried it off with a towel and hugged you from behind. nuzzling his nose into your neck, you knew he was tired. he had a long day at the country club, then surfing, then studying with pope, now getting drunk off his mind. he just wanted to be laying down in bed with his favorite girl.

you finished drying off your hair and he dragged you into the guest bedroom where he stayed. “jj, i left my shirt in the bathroom,”

“you don’t need it..” he pushed you onto his bed with a smirk.

you laid on his pillow and groaned, “we’re not fucking right now, jj.” he his smirk was replaced with a frown and he decided to crawl on top of you, wrapping his arms around your body and closing his eyes.

with quiet talking, you kissed his forehead and played with his hair until he fell asleep.

“goodnight, love.”

idk guys but i just love the thought of boys being able to help girls with things… halfway through this i realized maybe i should’ve made reader be drunk and like spill punch or beer in her hair so jj has to help her clean up but like i didn’t feel like rewriting as it’s 11:30 right now.. but ofc if it’s requested i’ll rewrite it!!

but enjoy whatever time of day it is my loves 🐮

check out ocean eyes 🌅 bonita 💋 & pretty present 🍰

#jj maybank fluff #fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #obx jj #imagine #kissing #jj maybank x reader #strstab

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teaandfiction-28 · 2 years

Note

Fluff #1

I may keep sending requests til you’ve written all the prompts. 😊 Love these one shots!

Please do!! Thrilled you’re enjoying them 🥰

—————————

Prompt: “Is that my shirt?”

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Language, Mention of Substance Abuse

Timeline: Set between C25 and C26 of “Perfect Storm.”

“Yo, I don’t think tha’s a good ide-”

Slamming her eyes closed, Kate tilted her face skywards and silently begged whatever deity that might be listening to please give her a motherfucking break! She stood stock-still, sweat trickling uncomfortably down her spine as she tried not to inhale through her nose but, despite her best efforts, the putrid stench of vomit was already making her stomach roil.

The mercury had been rising steadily all week and, while most of the city’s inhabitants had wisely chosen to keep out of the blazing sun, the gacked-out tweaker who appeared to have ingested a lethal dose of badly-cut dope that the Unit had been tracking for the last few weeks clearly wasn’t as switched on.

The skin on his face and arms was a tinged an unsightly shade of salmon, indicating that he had likely been in the sun for a good few hours before patrol found him but, as Kate valiantly tried to tug him towards a patch of shade, his face had drained of all colour and he promptly emptied the contents of his stomach all over her shirt.

“I told y’all not-”

“Kevin. I swear to God if you say another word, I’ll kill you my damn self.”

She lowered her chin and opened her eyes, sending a death glare in the direction of her partner who was standing a few feet in front of her, his lower lip tugged between his teeth in an effort to stifle his grin of amusement. By the time an ambulance arrived to take the almost-comatose man to Chicago Med, Kate’s shirt was saturated with congealed chunks of curdled vomit but, if Kevin’s retching was any indicator, it seemed like olfactory fatigue had finally set in as they headed back to the district because she couldn’t smell a thing!

"That stink’ll never come outta the upholstery!” Kevin moaned, tossing his keys onto his desk and dropping his weight down into his chair with a huff.

“Yeah, because I really wanted some strung-out crackhead to barf all over me Kev.” Kate hissed in response, rooting around in the drawers of her desk for a clean shirt and coming up empty. Slamming the drawer shut with a huff, she marched out of the bullpen and into the locker room, carefully drawing her soiled shirt over her head and tossing it straight into the garbage.

“I liked that shirt.” She muttered petulantly before yanking open the door of her locker in search of clean clothes but, to her horror, every little alcove inside was empty.

'What the fu-’

“Oh no.”

The reason her locker was empty was because she had taken the little black duffle bag she always kept at the district to Hank’s place a few nights ago when they had decided not to trek across town to her apartment after closing a particularly rough case. While she had a few things at his house, they spent most nights at Kate’s apartment and she was pretty certain that her most comfortable, tatty leggings and an oversized Harvard t-shirt wasn’t appropriate work attire so she had taken the bag with her.

“Please let this day be over soon.” She groaned, stepping a few paces to the right to root around in Hank’s locker, snatching the forest green t-shirt from the hanger and tossing it over a nearby bench before taking a quick shower.

When she eventually made it back to the bullpen, the rest of the unit had returned and Kevin was in the process of giving them an update. She had sidled up behind Alvin who greeted her with a quiet ‘Hey Kid’, his eyes taking in her unusual attire with a raised eyebrow but otherwise he remained silent.

The t-shirt hung loose on her frame but the soft, worn fabric was like a soothing balm on her frayed temper, simply because it smelled like him.

“...wasn’t much help. We found him bakin’ in the street so he’s at Med gettin’ his stomach pumped and bein’ treated for dehydration.”

Hank nodded, folding his arms across his chest as he turned away from the whiteboard to cast a glance over his team but, as his eyes settled on Kate, he found himself doing a double take when he realised she was no longer wearing the heather-grey shirt he had seen her in earlier that morning. He wasn’t sure if she knew the effect her wearing his clothes had on him but he could already feel his jeans tightening at the thought of her spending the rest of the day smelling like him. He was well aware that he had the tendency to be a possessive bastard when it came to her but who knew that seeing your woman wearing your clothes was such a potent aphrodisiac!?

“What next, Sarg?” He was snapped from his salacious inner monologue by Kim’s question, his newest officer evidently keen to put in a good showing.

“Al, take Burgess and get over to Med. I wanna know where this guy got his dope from. Might give us a clue to whoever thinks they can cook this crap in my city. Rest of you, keep digging.”

A ripple of nods followed his order as the unit began to disperse but, before Kate could take a seat at her desk, Hank had stepped forward and blocked her path so swiftly that she almost walked headlong into his chest.

He simply peered down at her for a few long moments, his tongue running over his teeth in a telltale sign that he was carefully considering something.

“Is that my shirt?” He eventually asked quietly, his eyes slowly roaming over her torso before they paused for a beat on the v-neck where she had left all three buttons undone, exposing a sliver of slightly damp, golden flesh.

“Yeah, sorry. Asshole puked all over me and I took the bag with my stuff in it to your place the other night.” She replied raking her hands through her hair, suddenly nervous that he might have a problem with her parading around the bullpen in his clothes.

But she needn’t have worried.

There was no mistaking the flash of heat in his beautiful russet orbs or the sexy smirk that tugged at his lips as he inched infinitesimally closer, leaning in so that his lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he spoke.

“Don’t be sorry, looks much better on you anyway.”

#hank voight #hank voight one shot #hank voight imagine #hank voight fluff #hank voight fanfiction #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #prompt #writer #request #fan fiction #kevin atwater #alvin olinsky

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justasimp1 · 2 years

Text

Micheal Afton x F! Reader. Fluff and Smutt!!!

Desire

"It's not your fault" You muttered against Micheal's lips. He sighed in response. "My father is fucking crazy" He grumbled, rubbing deep circles into your hips.

It hurt seeing someone you love going through pain. Hearing their suffering is a different type of torture. You tried to comfort Micheal through everything but it kept crumbling down.

You felt guilty for only providing Micheal with short kisses and cuddles. Insecurities hatched and harbored off these thoughts. Although Micheal constantly reminded you how the small pecks on his lips were the only thing holding his sanity.

Your aroma, touch, and taste was the only reason for his existence. "I'm sorry" You sighed, cupping his face. "I wish- I want to do more for you" Micheal's eyebrows knitted at your words.

His lips now finding yours. His kisses were much more long and passionate. You felt a mutual warmth escaping his cheeks. His tongue twisted with yours. His slender fingers moved to massage your face. He pulled you deeper into the mixture of saliva.

The fire sprouting in your heart sent your lungs aflame. The lack of oxygen made you desperately cling to Micheal's button-up shirt. "You're perfect" His voice went husky as the sharp cold air hit his mouth.

A faint blush settled onto your cheeks with an embarrassed smile. "Everything is just falling apart, the last thing I need is for you to think you're not good enough" Micheal threw his head back.

Messy dark brown strands hanging over the edge of the sofa. You adjusted yourself on his lap. You leaned down, give his neck small hickeys. Micheal groaned under his breath. "I hate seeing you like this" You mumbled, hands grazing over his stiff shoulders.

An idea blinked brightly in a dark sinful corner of your mind. "Y/N-" Micheal cut himself off with a whimper. Your hand slipped under his shirt, running in between the creases of his abs.

The sensitivity sent shivers down his spine. "Just relax, please" You kissed Micheal along his tense jaw. "Let me do this for you" You slid off his lap and down to the ground. The carpet tickled your knees.

You divided the knot of his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers just far enough for his peach cock to spring out. White pearls dripped down in beads around the slit. You looked into Micheal's eyes with curiosity. His cock was twitching as if he'd been hard for a while.

You took the pulsing 7 and 3/4 inches into your hand. Your thumb tapped delicately over his tip. "Fuck" Micheal hissed, his hand coming behind your head. His finger tangled with your roots. You pressed the pretty pink tip in your mouth.

A bitter salty taste slid down your tongue. The heaviness of his cock makes you slightly gag. "You're doing so good" Micheal whimpered, his hand keeping your head low. You noticed his posture start to loosen.

Micheal's eyes were fixed on you. His chest expanded as he took in shaky breaths. Warm saliva dripped down to his base. You moved a sloppy hand on the girth you couldn't fit into your mouth.

A wet sting slashed your eyes. Micheal groaned as he pushed you further down. Your gag reflex spasmed as harsh tears pricked at your vision. The colors were replaced by sound. Muffled gasps sent vibrations curling around his curved cock.

You retracted your mouth, a loud pop echoing around the room. Micheal put a limp hand over his cheeks to hide the blooming rose blush. You pumped his shaft while panting for the refreshing taste of cool air.

"I'm close- Be a good girl for me 'k?" Micheal moaned, your name soon following after. You nodded, placing the twitching cock back into your mouth. Your nose nuzzles against the flesh. Your tongue swirled around the sticky tip as your lips stretched to meet the big shaft.

Micheal's hand latched onto your head. A splurge of salty beads spilled down your throat. "Wait-" Micheal whimpered as you sucked the wasted cum off his dick. You gave him one last pump, making sure all of the pearl substance had escaped.

You ran a long tongue up his cock, licking off a dribble of cum. "You didn't have to swallow it" His voice was hoarse from how much he'd been moaning. You tucked everything back in its place, climbing back onto his lap.

Micheal did a slight shake as he felt you rub against his clothed crotch. "I wanted to make sure you felt good" You kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you" Micheal pushed past hair that was scattered in front of your vision.

"I love you too"

Masterlist

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whatanoof · 3 years

Text

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 9

WC: 1196

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: fluff?, mentions of physical disability & self consciousness, mentions of substance use

A/N: Wavy Gravy is the raddest man. I love him.

🧠

The room was beyond crowded as you stood next to Dr. Kreizler. Bitsy really wasn’t joking when she told you how chaotic these conferences get. You had already sat through one reading with him that morning. It was interesting enough.

“And you must be the famous TA Laszlo has told us all about!” came a rich bellow from behind you. You whipped around to face the man, a good head taller than you. He wore a bright smile which was so in contrast to the face of the doctor.

“Oh…?” you go to shake his proffered hand.

“John Schuyler Moore, photojournalism professor and friend of our dear alienist.”

“Oh! Yes, Dr. Moore,” nodding your head a little, you notice a much shorter blonde woman stroll up beside him. “Please, just John is fine,” he insists.

“Don’t give the poor girl a heart attack, John. Sara Howard, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You shake hands as well. She is petite, but right away you can sense a strength and poise about her. “Laszlo has told us a great deal about you.”

You glance at the man from the corner of your eye. He is giving Sara a stern look. “I see. I wasn’t aware he spoke of me.”

“He sings your praises on the regular,” she laughs.

An awkward grunt makes its way up your throat at her comment. He’s told you that your work was ‘satisfactory’ but there was no way he would go so far as to talk about you with his friends and colleagues. You figure the two are just being friendly.

“Laszlo, if I may,” John signals to another part of the room for the doctor to follow. With a nod the two men go off, leaving you with Dr. Howard.

She moves in to stand closer to your side. “I hope he’s been treating you well, Laszlo is not the easiest to deal with at times. He pays no mind to what is considered polite conversation etiquette.” At your blanching she adds “you can speak freely with me about it. He can be an ass, I’m the first to admit and call him out on it.” She smiles at you.

“Dr. Howard I’m-”

“Oh no please, call me Sara. We aren’t so far apart in age and you’re a graduate student. There is no need for formal titles.” The two of you chat for almost half an hour, mostly on the topic of the doctor before the men rejoin you. You don't speak as you would with Bitsy, but you find it very easy to trust and confide in Sara. John looks rather pleased with himself upon his return. You do catch the slight wink he gives Sara. Dr. Kreizler, on the other hand, appears as though he’s been told he needs a root canal.

The four of you spend the next couple hours perusing the new selections and attending a few of the reading demonstrations. John is almost like a dog, you think, overly friendly and does his best to include you in the conversations the trio have. Sara communicates with you through her facial expressions and eye rolls at the men. You are certain you even hear the doctor crack a joke or two. You carry the tote bag of books that Kreizler has purchased, despite John repeatedly attempting to assist. It’s good that the doctor has people like them, you think.

Sara and John eventually excused themselves for the night. Around 8pm the doctor turns to you. “There is a reading on a new monograph about Woodstock that starts in fifteen minutes. I have put our names on the list.”

You blink at him. “Woodstock. Like sex, drugs, and rock & roll, Woodstock '69, Woodstock?”

“Is there another?” He lifts his brows in exasperation as he considers you.

“No? Doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, though,” you argue lightly.

“Not particularly. But I thought you would find it useful towards your own studies. I know you are fond of it.”

A faint flutter broke out in your gut at his words. Never in your life had you thought this man would care enough to think of you and your own interests, especially not when this trip was for his own benefit. You had assumed you would need to beg to be let off for a few hours to seek out the history and sociology seminars. Time had frozen as you stared at him.

Maybe he did care?

“Are you alright?” he finally asked, concerned.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. That sounds really great, thank you.”

Dr. Kreizler guides you to the proper hall and you find your seats. The space was more cramped than you were overall comfortable with. Or rather, you were uncomfortable due to the proximity in which you and the professor sat. At least that is what you told yourself.

The room was packed, chairs placed tightly together. You sat to his right side. It was close enough that you could smell the cologne he wore; something spicy and citrusy and intoxicating. Barely a hair's breadth separated you from each other. He was warm against you. Often your thighs would touch, or even his weaker arm along your own. You could just feel the boney limb through your sleeves, which often hid how skinny it truly was compared to his left side. If it bothered him he gave no indication.

Midway through you lean close to his ear. “You know, the whole concept shouldn’t have worked. It was fucked from the get go. They literally had everything working against them, the rain, the traffic, the lack of sanitation, food. Wavy Gravy and his posse really made all the difference. When things got rough he was able to use psychoanalysis techniques to encourage the new social ideals of free love and the 'cooperative', reminding everyone why they were there in the first place. He appealed to the collective psyche of the counterculture movement. The whole thing is insane!”

You don’t notice how close you had gotten to him as you spoke, your chest was nearly pressed against his shoulder. At first you touching along his bad arm made him want to instinctually pull away. As you spoke you were still facing the stage, paying no mind to the feel of it. It quelled his anxiety that you didn't seem to care. So Laszlo had tilted his head closer towards you as you whispered. He found that your eyes were lit up similar to when you would argue with him. But this time it wasn’t because you were annoyed at him - this time it was because you were passionate and excited - and it was breathtaking.

You face him when he doesn't respond; only a few inches separate you. His eyes lock with your own. A beat passes and he doesn't look away. "What?" you ask. Maybe you had offended him by speaking during the lecture?

Laszlo gathers himself. "It seems you have been paying attention during my lectures.” He smirks.

You face back forward in hopes that he doesn’t see the heat in your cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, professor.” You can feel his silent chuckle.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #daniel bruhl fanfiction #scuttle-buttle

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taeswag · 3 years

Text

•Simply Neighbors•

pairing: Taehyung x reader

genre: Fluff, teasing, mutual pining, eventual smut.

word count:1.816k

warnings: childhood friends/ enemies to lovers(vice versa)/neighbors!au, a lot of teasing(I’m sorry), tattooed Taehyung, a multiple part story.

summary: Never fall in love with your neighbor... (talking with no experience at all lol.)

author’s note: I hope you enjoy this and let me know if it’s good enough for a part two. Have a lovely day my beautiful peeps.

———————————————————————

The soothing sound of the wind chime outside, the softness of tulip’s fur against your lap and the smell of moms cooking would have been enough to calm your anxious heart. But it wasn’t enough, so you had to escape now. You had two options- you could take the back door to grandmas... but that wouldn’t work because she would tell mom you're hiding there again. Or you could tell mom you have a last minute date with Sena- but that wouldn’t work either because she would see right through you.

Ring!...

“Sweetie can you open the door, I think it’s them,”Mom shouted. Poking her head out of the kitchen and pointing to the door with her spatula that was dripping a reddish substance onto the ground.

Everything’s happening too fast, you missed your chance to escape, now you were doomed.

Ring!...

Wanting to say no at the sound of the second doorbell, you simply give a nod towards her direction. Watching her as she disappears back into the kitchen.

With a sigh you pick up tulip and put her over your shoulder holding her tight as you push yourself up with your free hand. Tulip was your support system as you were for her. But right at this moment when you thought opening the door for someone wouldn’t be one of the things you would ever dread doing, tulip wasn’t being very supportive. Hissing in annoyance due to the sudden disturbance of her peace. She tried to get off of you but you pulled her closer into your chest. Which happened to be a mistake because right as the doorbell rang again she growled and jumped off of you, in the process clawing at your cheek.

Despite the stinging pain you don’t even wince because it was a pain you were already used to. Wrapping your hand around the cold door knob, you pull the door open. Greeting your neighbors with a subtle bow as if nothing had happened. Your eyes instantly locking with his, those dark glowing eyes that held such mystery yet softness.

Breaking eye contact at the sound Mina shouting something at you. You turn your gaze over to her who was pointing at the scratch on your cheek.

“Y/N what happened, you’re bleeding-fuck I think I’m going to puke.” Mina gags her hand flying to cover her mouth. She pushes by me and into the house calling for my mom to get the band aids.

Now it was just you and him.

“You have to be careful, tulip is quite a dangerous kitty,” he says with a smirk, his deep voice sending chills down your spine as you take in his towering frame. His hair is wet and all you can think of is how they would feel tangled up in your fingers. He’s dressed in all black, a color that suits him a little too well.

“Shit... wait you are actually bleeding a lot this time, let me help you with that.” he whispers as he leans forward until his face is eye level with yours. Your eyes widen and you let out a cough. Feeling your face turn red as he keeps moving in.

“What is he doing?”you ask yourself, putting your hands out in front of you to push him away. But he grabs both your hands and turns you around pushing your body against the door and closing it. Your breath hitches in your throat and you stare at him with a mixture of feelings flowing through your veins.

“Taehyung, what are you doing? I think Mina went to go get the band aids,” You say nervously in hopes of him letting you go. You look over his shoulder and towards the empty living room searching for anyone but you no longer hear the sound of Mina or your mom in the kitchen.

You look back at him that stupid smirk of his never leaving his lips as he leans in closer. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, your heart jumping out of your chest in anticipation of what was going to happen next.

“What if someone sees,” you blurt out.

“Sees what, this?” He asks and with a swift motion he lets go of your hands and they drop with a thud against the door. You open your eyes confused as you watch him take out a napkin from his pocket and put it up against your bloody cheek.

You wince as he presses hard and caresses your non injured cheek with his free hand. You look down at the floor with embarrassment.

“Why are you always doing that, you like teasing me don’t you,” You whine in annoyance, swatting his hand away and holding the napkin against your cheek yourself.

“Stop getting your hopes up.” he said and with that he walked away, disappearing into the dark hallway.

You let your hand fall to your side, the napkin sticking to your cheek on its own with the blood. Angry at yourself for wanting to be kissed by that little prick.

Moving away from the door and taking a few steps forward, you can feel your heart sink. Why couldn’t you like someone else, I mean what’s so special about him anyways? But as you ask yourself this question a plethora of reasons why he’s special comes to mind.

“Omg sweetie did you forget to cut tulips nails again!” Your mom shouts bringing you out of your thoughts as she runs towards you with a napkin, a few bandages and a small alcohol bottle in her hands. “Let me see,” She says, removing the semi bloody napkin from your cheek. She quickly dabs a bit of alcohol onto a cotton ball and presses it against your cheek. Wincing at the stinging burn while she wipes of the blood and sticks a band aid patch on your cheek.

If only you could put a bandage over your battered heart.

——-

Dinner was an absolute blur, Mom was making fun of Mina for almost passing out from seeing a bit of blood. Then they started fangirling about Taehyung's new tattoos which you rolled your eyes constantly during that whole conversation. After we all had finished eating they started arguing about who's the best character in the new sci-fi drama that came out on Netflix last week. You said nothing but laughed and nodded at certain times. Because staying quiet and still seemed to be your best friends when you felt horny for some reason. After tiring themselves out we had a round of Rock Paper Scissors to see who would wash the dishes.

So here you were in the kitchen washing the now dirty plates that were once filled with Kimchi Fried rice and eggs.

“When are you moving to your new apartment?,” Taehyung asked as he took three of the already rinsed plates from your hands and set them onto the wooden drying rack.

You stare at him from the corner of your eye as you scrub the inside of each cup.

“Why are you even helping me?” You ask, annoyance laced in your voice. You rinse the cups and pass them to him. Clearly grateful that he was here helping but just having him in here annoyed me because he was the root of my horniness.

He set the cups upside down next to the plates and placed his hands firmly on top of the countertop.

“Because I want to, is there a problem y/n.”

He questions and walks over to you, leaning his body against the sink. “Y-yes,” you stutter as his eyes burn holes to the side of your face. You bite your bottom lip hard and wash the utensils one by one. You freeze in your movements when you feel his cold wet hand suddenly grip your jaw. You wince as he turns your face towards his and let’s go, gazing at you intently.

“Is there?”he asks again more demanding now and with a small tilt to his head, he whispers softly in your ear, “Are you angry at me for what happened earlier.”

Your lips part slightly but no words come out. “Did I make you horny?” He asks and with that his eyes meets yours. As he licks those red plump lips of his teasingly slow.

Ignoring the pounding in your chest and the wetness that had seemed to have piled up in your panties. You drop the sponge into the sink and wrap your arms around his neck. Your sudsy hands intertwining with his curly locks. Pushing your body up against his you feel your chest heave up and down.

Resting your forehead against his, you stare into his eyes which have a mixture of surprise and a glint of softness in them. His body has become tense and his lips are parted into an O shape. Our lips just inches apart as you softly nuzzle your nose against his. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins as the voice inside your head tells you stop there or else you’ll get hurt. But you ignore that voice, because it’s been too long since you’ve last been able to hold him like this, you miss him.

Glancing at him through your lashes you lick your lips slowly. Watching as his eyes get clouded with lust and want. Tugging at his hair you hear a low grunt escape his lips. You lean in for the kiss and he leans in too. Yet, right as his lips are about to close the gap. It’s your turn to tilt your head to the side. Gaining a subtle annoyed moan as your lips graze the side of his mouth and jaw as they travel all the way to his ear.

“What is taking them so long, we have to leave soon or else the bar is going to be full like last time.” you hear your mom shout from the living room. Her footsteps getting closer and closer to the kitchen.

“Are you sure this is the game you want to play tae tae.” You whisper, planting a soft kiss onto the crook of his neck. The sound of footsteps become audibly louder. And as if on cue you untangle your hands from his hair, push him slightly to the side and go back to finishing rinsing up the eating utensils.

#bts #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kpop fluff #bts fluff #enemies to lovers au #lovers to enemies au #neighbor au #childhood friends au #college au #taehyung x you

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love-and-monsters · 3 years

Text

Sauriosapien

M sairosapien X F human, 6,429 words.

This story does not have a reader-insert because I wanted to focus a little bit more on some characters that I came up with. This involves an established relationship, some fluff, and four tiny velociraptors. Enjoy!

The sun was blazing hot in the sky, so much so that it was uncomfortably warm even in the shade. A heavy mugginess hung in the air, so much so that Grace felt like she was inhaling through a damp rag. Sweat soaked through her loose ranger clothes. Even with her sleeves and pant legs rolled up, she was still overly warm. Fortunately, the trees were closely clustered enough that the sun only peeped through in tiny patches, dappling a few small areas of the ground.

Despite being so hot that she barely wanted to move, her tiny pack of velociraptors was running around like their tails were on fire. Rococo was perched in one of the trees, chattering furiously at Boho, who had her head stuck under the roots of one of the larger trees. Minimalism was hunched behind Grace’s legs while Maximalism oscillated between chattering at her and trying to snatch one of the tiny amphibians crawling through the damp undergrowth.

“C’mon babies!” Grace called, her voice higher pitched. “We got hunting to do!” She lifted her clicker and pressed the button a few times.

Rococo hopped out of the tree and skidded to a stop in front of Grace. Boho was right behind her. Maximalism fell into line next, chittering eagerly until Minimalism crept up next to him. Grace cooed to them. “Good, good! Okay, here. Sniff this.”

She crouched until she was on their level and held out a chunk of eggshells. Rococo’s nose was there in a second, snuffling intently. The other three were less enthusiastic, but Grace made sure they all got a good sniff before she stood back up. “Okay, babies! Go hunting!”

She clicked the pointer three times in rapid succession. Rococo placed her nose to the ground. A moment later, she gave a triumphant croak and took off into the trees. Boho and Maximalism fanned out on either side of her, with Minimalism bringing up the rear.

Grace ran after them. Despite only being the size of cats, the raptors were fast. Only the rustling in the undergrowth ahead of her let her know where her pack was. They called back and forth, little piping noises that blended with the usual cacophony of the forest.

Running was easy for Grace. Her body settled into an easy rhythm, burning with exertion, but not agonizingly so. She kept up a steady pace, keeping her raptors just in her sight. They worked best when she wasn’t crowding them.

After about fifteen minutes, Boho sent up a hooting signal. The rest of the raptors peeled off, following her lead. Grace followed them, slowing her pace as she approached so she didn’t trample over anything important.

Her raptors were chittering excitedly when she came upon them. Between the four of them, barely concealed in the branches, there was a nest of off-white eggs. Grace crouched next to it, voice hushed. “Okay, come back, babies. Yes, yes, good job.” Treats were passed out to the whole team, with a special helping going to Boho. She chittered and preened, giving the rest of the raptors superior looks. Grace laughed. Their little competitions inspired them to work harder, and Boho and Rococo had a particular rivalry.

Treats dished out, Grace reached into one of her back pockets and pulled out a notebook. She jotted down her rough coordinates, the size of the nest, and the number of eggs. Donning gloves, she prodded and poked at the eggs, rotating them and checking for unusual shell weakness, cracks, or any other signs of disease. Satisfied, she returned the eggs to the nest and carefully covered them once more. She walked over to one of the nearby trees and scored the bark before applying a sandy substance made from a mixture of crushed insects. The bitter, acrid smell was sharp enough to make Grace shy away, but it wouldn’t bother the mother of the nest and it would let her raptor pack know they had already visited that area.

The nearby undergrowth rustled. Grace drew up stiff, her raptors circling around her. Rococo sniffed at the air, head twitching back and forth. Then she dropped out of her alert posture and chirped reassuringly to the others. The rest of the raptors relaxed and Grace followed their lead. They would only be this relaxed around someone they knew. So, the person coming through the trees must be-

A flash of green and pink darted out from between the trees and skidded to a stop. He stood just as upright as a human, but he balanced on large, bird-like talons. His tail swung behind him, acting as a counterbalance. A massive hot pink crest of feathers covered the last quarter of his tail and crowned his head. Fangs glinted as his mouth stretched into a smile.

“Gracie.” There was a slight rasp in his voice, a noise that traced deliciously through Grace’s head and sent tingles along the back of her neck. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Howdy,” Grace said, tilting her hat back. “You could have just waited for me to head back to town. I’m kind of working right now.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than Rococo charged their visitor. The rest of the pack followed her, working their small, feathered wings to propel their jumps so they could attach themselves to his chest. He staggered under the unexpected weight and sank to the ground, lifting his tail awkwardly to prevent his crest from getting dirtied.

“Seems like these guys want a break,” he said. Minimalism chittered wildly from her position on his lap while Boho buried her face into his head crest. Rococo, perched on his shoulder, made an attempt to corral her subordinates that was cut off when Maximalism started snapping at her tail feathers.

“Seems more like someone’s being a distraction,” Grace said. She gave a sharp whistle. Rococo, Maximalism, and Minimalism snapped to attention and formed their line in front of her. Boho kept her face pressed into his crest until Rococo rounded back and drove her into position.

He carefully got back to his feet, brushing dirt off his clothes. “I’m surprised you’re working,” he said. There was something deliberately airy and casual in his voice. Too casual. Grace paused, taking her attention off her raptors.

“Why are you surprised?” she asked carefully. She tried to rack her brain. Was she forgetting something?

“Oh,” he sighed, scanning the trees around him. “It’s nothing major. Only that you told me last week you were going to take a day off so we could actually spend some time together.”

Ah. Shit. Grace felt her face go hot with shame. Oops. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to- I totally forgot what day it was!” She considered blaming it on her unfamiliarity with the Sauriosapien calendar, but that wouldn’t have been true- even with the standard human calendar, she was always mixing up dates and forgetting things.

He frowned. His crest was pulled tight against his head, feathers tucked in to display his irritation. That was far worse than the aggressive puff he showed off when he was really and truly pissed; this was more akin to someone saying ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.’

“Look, I really am sorry. Uh, hold on. Let me take these guys back home and get a little washed up, and maybe change into some nicer clothes and I’ll be right there.”

He shook his head. “Don’t bother. You’re already out here and in the middle of work, and these guys are already all wound up.” He gestured to Boho, who was practically twitching with the effort of staying still and in line. “I was just coming to make sure nothing happened to you.”

Grace felt her shoulders droop. “Oh. Thanks for that.” Her eyes were stinging slightly with humiliation and anger at herself. “I’m sorry you came out all this way. Maybe we can go out tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “I took off work today.” Irritation was thick in his voice again. Grace slumped her shoulders. He worked in a particularly popular boutique and getting specific days off was always difficult for him.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me to go home? I can always do this tomorrow. I’ll just let everyone out in the yard and they’ll run themselves out,” she said.

He gave a snort, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “You remember what happened the last time they were in the yard for more than an hour without supervision.”

Grace grimaced. As many times as she reinforced the fence and made it taller, the raptors found a new way to get out. The last time, Rococo and Boho had managed to dig underneath until the chicken wire had come loose and had squirmed free. Everyone but a very lonely Minimalism had been gone by the time Grace made it back, and she’d spent much of the night tramping through the forest looking for them. “Then they can go in the coop. They’ll destroy it, but I can clean it up later.”

“That’s not fair to them,” he said, and despite the situation, Grace felt her heart surge with affection. Even pissed off, even if it would benefit him not to, he cared for her raptors. “You’ve already wound them up for work. Just let them continue.”

“Are you really sure?” Grace asked. He waved a hand at her dismissively.

“I’m sure.” He gave her a smile, though it was clearly tense and tinged with sadness. “I know you have a lot of difficulty with remembering dates and things that aren’t on your schedule, but… well, I really would like to spend time with you more often than a couple evening every week. And it’s frustrating when you don’t remember these kinds of things.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. It’s not that it’s not important to me. It is! It’s just… if things aren’t part of my schedule and I don’t have reminders, then I tend to forget them.” She pulled her hat off and ran her fingers through her hair. “You know I missed my own birthday a couple years ago?”

He looked at her a little blankly. “Er… that’s important?”

Right, egg-laying people didn’t think about birthdays the same way. “Uh. It’s like forgetting your hatching day, I guess, but birthdays have more cultural significance to us.” He nodded slowly, though he didn’t seem to understand. “Days just kind of all blur together for me. Time is a flat circle and a total scam and I don’t know dates very well and I’m sorry. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

He stared, but his lips were quirking like he was trying to hold back a smile. “We’ll have to work on this in the future. I just came out to make sure that you were all right.” He turned, waving a four-fingered hand over his shoulder. “I’ll see you when you’re home from work.”

“Velly, wait!” He paused, looking over his shoulder. Grace swept her had back up onto her head and offered him an apologetic smile. “I, uh. I feel bad that you came all the way out here for nothing. Why don’t you stay a little bit?”

Vel paused. “You’re working.”

“I know. But I mean, the pack knows you pretty well. You probably won’t be much of a distraction for them.”

He tried to give her a serious look, but his lips were twitching again. “I’m pretty sure that you’re not supposed to be on a date during the work day either.”

“No one will find out. We’re in the middle of the park. You just need to head back before I go to the ranger’s center. And it’s not like you didn’t already sneak in.”

He laughed. “Well. Yes. That’s true.” His crest fluffed up, his tail swinging back and forth. “Are you going to have to take me in?”

“Hey, if you give me any trouble, I might have to cuff you,” Grace said with a grin. She didn’t miss the little shiver that moved through Vel’s crest. “Maybe I’ll just restrain you and leave you in the woods for anyone to find…”

Rococo, apparently irritated at being ignored, took that moment to nip at Grace’s boot.

“Okay, okay! Come on, let go.” She shook her boot and the raptor detached. Rococo trotted back to the others, but Grace could tell her patience wasn’t going to hold for much longer. “Like I was saying,” she continued, turning back to Vel, “I can’t trust you to leave on your own, so I guess you’re going to just have to come with me. No trying to escape or anything.”

Vel grinned. “No, ma’am.”

Grace turned back to her raptors and clicked her clicker. They all skittered back into formation, looking up at her expectantly. “All right. We found one. Go get another one!” She clicked the clicker rapidly and the raptors took a moment to snuffle at the ground before plunging into the trees. Grace took off after them, Vel following her.

The raptors pulled ahead again, stunningly fast for such little animals. Grace followed at a small distance, careful not to go at much more than a jog. She was fast, for a human, but she couldn’t maintain the speed for very long. As long as she could trace their path through the trees and hear their calls back and forth, she could track them.

The bigger concern was Vel. He was already starting to lag, even after only a minute or so of running. He was not as well-trained as Grace, nor as fit, and no sauriosapien was as good of an endurance runner as a human. He might be able to outrun her in a sprint, but the further they went, the less likely that was.

Vel looked to be on the verge of collapse by the time the raptors called out again and came to a halt at another next. Grace, slightly winded, leaned on the nearby tree. Vel hunched over, making wheezing noises like his lungs were going to come out of his mouth.

“You good?” Grace said. He gave her a thumbs-up, then sagged all the way to the ground.

“I can see why they like humans to do this job,” he said. He rested one of his hands on his chest as he panted. “I think my heart’s going to explode out of my chest.”

“Hey, humans may be better at endurance running in general, but a sauriosapien could do this job,” Grace said as she bent down to uncover the nest. “Don’t throw your whole species under the bus because you’re really out of shape.”

Maximalism had found the nest, and he was crowing over the others, holding his second treat in his mouth like a prize. Minimalism crawled up next to him, chittering anxiously until he allowed her to take a tiny nibble of the treat, then he gulped it down. Grace waved them off, checking the size and integrity of the nest.

Vel, having recovered slightly, rolled onto his side to watch her. “What exactly are you doing with that nest?”

“I told you about this the other night,” Grace said, not looking up from the nest. Vel pushed himself up into a sitting position, shifting his robes around him.

“Yeah, but I had a hard time figuring it out. I’m better when I can actually see what you’re doing.” He crept closer, though he paused a short distance away, like he was concerned that his presence would disturb the nest.

“There’s a few species of microraptors whose nests have been damaged recently. There’s some kind of disease that’s been going around and causing all sorts of problems with the shells.” She covered the nest back up and scent-marked it. “I’ve been trying to tag the number of nests there are and making sure the eggs are in good shape. If we find any nests where the eggs look weak, we’ll tag them and collect the eggs. Hopefully we’ll be able to raise them until they can hatch and be returned to the wild.”

“Oh,” Vel said. He crept a little closer. “How’s this nest doing?”

“All good. I haven’t actually seen too many bad eggs in the past couple of days I’ve been doing this. Hopefully that means that the disease hasn’t been spreading too much.” She gestured to the raptors and clicked at them. They circled up around her. “And we’re keeping our eyes peeled for any rat dens we find. If we locate those, we-”

Minimalism let out a loud peep and darted out of the circle. She plunged her narrow muzzle into a nearby bush, snapping wildly. There was a squeak, some thrashing, and Minimalism withdrew her head. A rat dangled from her jaws.

“Oh, good girl!” Grace got down on one knee. Minimalism ran over, giving up the rat in favor of another treat. “Yes, you’re a good girl! You’ve done very well!” She carefully placed the rat into a plastic bag and eased that into her pack.

“What do you do with the rats?” Vel asked. He looked mostly recovered from his mad dash, his crest perking up once more.

“Send them to a lab. They usually run some tests on them, try to do a blood panel and figure out if they’ve got any diseases they’re spreading. There’s been some concerns that the rats are actually spreading the disease that’s causing the nest weaknesses.” Grace got back to her feet, her knees cracking loudly. “Ugh, I’m like an old woman.”

“And yet, you’re still more fit than me,” Vel said. He clambered to his feet and shook his robes free of leaf litter and debris from lying on the ground. “Do we have to run again?”

Grace laughed. “I’ll see if I can slow these guys down, so we can give you a break.” She clicked at the raptors a few times. “All right, slow, babies.” Rococo chirped in confirmation, then turned and chittered at the other raptors. Satisfied her message had been conveyed, she took off, the others fanning out behind her. Grace straightened back up. “Come on.”

This time, they went at a light jog. It barely winded Grace, but Vel still struggled to keep up. At least this time, he wasn’t wheezing so alarmingly when he breathed, so Grace didn’t have to be constantly worried he was going to collapse.

Vel was at least able to keep up as they tracked down and assessed the nests. The frequent breaks they took while Grace examined the eggs seemed to be helping him keep up, but by the middle of the day, he was definitely flagging. Even Grace, with her much better stamina and training, was starting to feel the beginnings of exhaustion.

“We’ll take a break,” she said, signaling the raptors. They were starting to look fatigued as well, mouths hanging open as they panted and their feathers drawn tight against their body in an effort to calm them down. “I need to eat lunch anyway.”

Vel collapsed next to her as she spread out a mat and set down her packed lunch. “Here. I brought some dried meat with me.” She offered him a package wrapped in paper. He opened it and pulled out a jerky strip.

“Thanks.” She knew it wasn’t his favorite, but he ate it without complaint.

“I don’t have much for you,” she said, digging through the pack. “I know running around all afternoon must be making you hungry. Er, I might have a few hard-boiled eggs.”

“I don’t want to take your lunch,” Vel said as he snapped down another strip of meat. “You need to eat more than I do.”

Humans, thanks to their endothermy, needed to eat much more frequently than sauriosapiens- at least three meals a day, nearly two thousand calories, compared to the typical two-meal, thousand calorie diets of the sauriosapiens. The sauriosapiens were only selectively endothermic, with their bodies heating up with exercise and cooling down when they were inactive or sleeping. That meant their bodies could manage with far fewer calories, though after running around for a while, there was quite a large loss of energy.

“Missing one meal won’t kill me. I’ll be fine.” Grace pulled out a couple of hard-boiled eggs. They were large enough to fill her palm, much larger than the chicken eggs she’d been used to at home. She passed one to Vel, who hesitated for a moment before cracking the shell with his claws.

“Thank you.” He took a bite out of the white, eyes drifting half-shut as he tasted the rich fattiness of the yolk. A lot of food in sauriosapien culture was fixated on fattiness and oils. It was an easy way to get calorie-rich food, considering that they couldn’t taste sugar and were fairly carnivorous. Grace hadn’t eaten much in the way of refined sugar since she’d arrived, only managing to scrounge a few pieces of fruit that she grew herself. She took a piece of dried fruit from her bad and chewed idly on it.

The raptors gathered together, chittering and playing with each other. Grace watched as they tumbled around, hopping over each other, nipping at tails, and generally enjoying themselves. She could see Vel giggling at them out of the corner of her eye.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said. Vel licked some egg yolk off his finger as he turned toward her.

“Well, we were supposed to have a date today,” he said. There was a slightly sarcastic edge to his voice. Grace ducked her head, a flush of shame touching her cheeks.

“I really am sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

“I knew what I was getting into then I started dating you,” Vel said. “Remember when there was a holiday in the middle of the week and you tried to go into work anyway?”

Grace pulled her hat down over her head to hide her face. “Ugh. Please don’t remind me.”

Vel laughed into his hand. “You were messed up for the rest of the week. Kept thinking you had days off when you didn’t… and the raptors were confused too! Poor Rococo, she started yelling at you, trying to get you to go out and then you started to think maybe she was right and not you…”

Grace swatted his shoulder. “Keep teasing me and I’ll make good on my threat to tie you up.”

“Will you?” Vel asked, his voice dropping into a lower register. Grace pressed a finger to his forehead and pushed him back, causing him to break into another fit of soft giggles.

A shaft of sunlight broke through the trees and fell across Vel’s face. His green scales gleamed under the sun, glossy as ocean-smoothed glass. Grace took a moment to just take in his face. His teeth gleamed, sharp as knives, but somehow also attractive. His eyes were glistening, beautiful gold. Grace swore that when the sunlight struck them, they illuminated like a chunk of pyrite. His feathered crest twitched and flared. The motion of the feathers was always fascinating, the way they ruffled in response to his emotions. Touching them was always a wonderful experience. Feeling their slight motions against her fingers was grounding, the reassuring contact of another living being that trusted her completely.

Vel was attractive, by both human and sauriosapien standards. The human standards would be satisfied by his reasonably tall stature with smooth, lithe muscles, his flowing grace, and his fine-boned face. The sauriosapien standards were satisfied by the bright green of his scales and the brilliant pink of his head and tail crests. Not only were they an incredibly vibrant pink, but they were thick and full and expressive. Grace had seen the interested looks of other sauriosapiens when they walked through town together. Whether or not they approved of his relationship with her, she wasn’t sure. She could observe their attraction to Vel with a sort of clinical detachment, but when it came to how people viewed her, she had no idea.

“Are you still hungry?” Vel asked. She looked down. His head had migrated onto her lap somehow, and the side of his face was pressed against her middle. “I can hear your stomach growling.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I know a place-” She trailed off. Huh. Maybe she could really make up for screwing up their date.

“You know a place?” Vel prompted, lifting his head. She turned her attention back to him and scratched along his crest in that just-right spot. He made a trilling noise and went nearly limp.

“Never mind. We need to get moving.” She carefully tucked any wrappers and containers back into her bag and swung it up onto her shoulders. Vel got to his feet, shaking some leaf litter from his clothes. They were in typical sauriosapien style, which meant they looked a little like a fancy hospital gown to Grace’s eyes. They were essentially robes that clipped together in the back, which gave ample space for their tail. She’d seen a few sauriosapiens try to put on human clothes before, which was always amusing. The head holes were never big enough to accommodates their stiff crests, and the pants were just a complete disaster, what with their digitigrade legs and tails.

On the other hand, humans who wore sauriosapien clothes, along with the inherent indignity of the outfits nearly always being too big, tended to have their asses hanging out through the tail hole, so it went both ways.

They started through the forest once more, this time with Grace reigning her raptors in close. A series of whistles and click signals kept them close by, though she couldn’t prevent them from running ahead at least a little bit. They jumped in and out of the undergrowth, scaling the trees on occasion and snapping at insects that settled nearby.

“Are we still looking for nests?” Vel asked. Despite the slowed pace, he was still panting a little. Going to slow was nearly maddening for Grace, but she slowed down a hair more.

“We’re going to put a pause on that for now,” she said. “There’s somewhere I want to check out first.”

“Oh,” Vel said. He fell silent, devoting most of his energy to walking. Grace focused her attention on watching the raptors jump around. Rococo snapped a bright flower from a nearby bush and bolted back to her, chittering furiously.

“Thank you,” Grace said. Rococo relinquished the flower when Grace offered her a treat in return and immediately bolted back to the others, chirping with excitement. Within moments, the other raptors were gathering up flowers and offering them to Grace. Her arms filled with the sweet-smelling blooms, the raptors chittering and hopping up and down around her.

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” Grace said. She waved her hand at them, dismissing them. They plunged back into the undergrowth to find some other game to play.

“Did you train them to do that?” Vel asked, looking at the flowers with amusement.

“No, they kind of trained themselves,” Grace said. “They know that performing certain behaviors will get them treats. If one of them sees another getting a treat for something, they’ll all repeat it until I stop giving treats. They know that when I make the cut of signal, though, no more treats are coming and they need to stop. I don’t want them completely stripping the forest of flowers to get treats.” She gathered the flowers in her arms into a bouquet. “Here.”

Vel blinked as she thrust the flowers into his arms. They were a cacophony of bright colors that complimented his brilliant pink crest. “Oh,” he said. He wasn’t able to blush, thanks to his scales, but his tail whipped back and forth so fast it knocked down a sapling. His crest flared, feathers spreading into a brightly colored crown. “Thank you.” He adjusted them to sit in the crook of his elbow. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe. You’ve got a lot of admirers, you know.” Not only was he handsome, but his shy, slightly submissive personality was considered the height of masculinity to sauriosapiens. Sure, males were typically expected to make the first move in relationships, performing display behaviors with their feathers and showing off for any females they were interested in, but Vel would have had enough admirers that one of them would have taken it upon themselves to ask him out.

“I don’t know about a lot,” Vel said, his crest twitching with embarrassment. “And we don’t really give flowers as gifts. Carved bones or teeth are more likely. But I know flowers are more important to humans.” He removed one of the flowers with the longest stems and turned to tuck it into Grace’s hair. His claws were sharp enough that any touch against Grace’s thin human skin was dangerous, but she’d never felt any sort of threat from him. He didn’t even cut a hair as he slid the flower into place behind her ear.

“Really important is an exaggeration. But it’s a common gift.” She carefully adjusted the flower so it wouldn’t fall out. “Here, let me.” She plucked another flower from the bouquet, picking a pale yellow one that would offset the hot pink nicely, and tucked it into his crest. He made a soft rumbling noise in his chest as her fingers trailed along the edge of his crest.

There was an irritated chirping at her feet. Grace looked down to see Rococo and Maximalism peering up at her. Boho and Minimalism were only slightly further back, also staring. Their impatient gazes made Grace realize that she and Vel had simply been staring into each other’s eyes, not moving at all.

“We should keep going,” she said. She waved her hand to the raptors. They took off into the trees. “Come on.” Without thinking, she linked her fingers through his and pulled him along after her.

Vel struggled to keep up with her still, so she was very much dragging him through the undergrowth. He clutched her hand with both of his as he panted. “Uh. Hah… Could… Gracie, could we please slow down a little?”

She slowed her steps just a bit and he stumbled into her, letting his body weight fall onto her. She bore it with only a little effort. He was almost exactly her height, but all sauriosapiens were light-boned and limber, so he weighed less than he appeared to. “Do you want me to carry you?” she teased, thought she knew he would say no. It was probably for the best. She could have lifted him for a while, but it was awkward carrying something the same size as her and she couldn’t carry something even only three-quarters of her body weight for a long time.

“No. You just gotta stop moving so fast. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.” Vel lay a hand over his chest as he straightened up. Once he’d managed to regain his breath, he glanced around the forest in curiosity. “Where are we?”

The trees were thicker around them, their canopies clustered close together so their leaves blocked most of the sun. The humidity of the forest was thicker, but the lack of sunlight added a little coolness to the air. Without as much sun reaching the forest floor, the undergrowth had mostly cleared. The raptors hopped around the enormous tree roots, even darting under a few particularly enormous ones that bulged up from the ground.

“We’re closer to the middle of the forest. Come this way.” Grace picked her way over a few of the larger roots. Vel followed, his hand still gripping at hers. The ground grew damp under their feet the further they went. Vel managed it a lot better than Grace did- his feet were broader, allowing him to balance well on the spongey ground. A couple of times, his grip on Grace’s arm saved her from falling face-first into the muck.

Grace picked her way over the crest of a small hill and stopped. “Okay. We’re here.”

Vel peeked over her shoulder and his breath caught. The raptors, chittering with delight, hopped down along the sloping ground in front of them until they hit the waterfront.

In the middle of a circle of trees, covered with tangled green vines, there was a crystalline spring of water. Lily-like flowers dotted the surface, adding splashes of bright color in the green.

“Oh!” Vel said. His crest flared and his tail whipped back and forth. Grace couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face. “Oh, it’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen this place before. I didn’t even know it was here.”

“Technically, we’re not supposed to be here. It’s in the restricted section of the park, because of these.” Grace crouched down and pointed toward a particularly thick patch of lilies. Under the plants there was a tiny, darting crowd of fish.

“Because of fish?” Vel said, crouching next to her. The fish were small, barely longer than the first two joints of his finger, and mostly tail. They had mostly dull coloration, except for a brilliant red splash on their backs. He reached his finger toward the water, like he was about to stroke them, then pulled back with a cautious look at Grace.

“I wouldn’t touch them,” she said. “They’re sensitive little things. And they’re not actually fish. They’re the tadpole stage of a kind of amphibian.”

“Like a frog?” Vel said.

“Sort of. A little more like salamanders, actually. They’re about this big, only as long as your hand, and they’re pretty similar in coloration to these little guys. Mostly greenish-brown, with a big splash of red on their backs. They’re pretty uncommon in the area, though. Most of the time, they lay their eggs in the rainy season, when a lot of temporary puddles form. When they fully metamorphosize, they find a damp spot and bury underground until the next rainy season, when they can find a mate and lay their eggs.” Grace indicated the circumference of the pond. “This spot’s the only place where you can consistently find them. It’s fed from an underground spring, so it’s here year-round. Every year, you can find a few tadpoles here. We use it to keep an eye on the population.”

“How come no one’s allowed to know about it?” Vel asked.

“Uh, the tadpoles get hunted a lot. See the red spot on their backs? That secretes a kind of hallucinogenic substance. It’s deadly to sauriosapiens, and to most other species here, but to mammals, it acts more like a slightly milder form of acid.” Vel gave her a bewildered look. “Uh, it’s like a euphoria-inducing drug that can give you really nice hallucinations. Humans like it a lot. There’s a big underground market for it, so smugglers try to catch the tadpoles every year. But because the nests move every year, they need to look for them. We’ve done a pretty good job so far at keeping this spot safe- as long as they can’t find a regular spot to pull the tadpoles from, their hunting shouldn’t put too much of a strain on the population.”

Vel nodded. “It’s a shame. It’s beautiful here.”

Grace nodded. “It’s one of the prettier locations. If you stay here for a while, you can usually see some animals come through to drink.” She let her hands hang at her side, pinky finger just barely brushing against Vel’s. “Thank you, by the way.”

He glanced at her. “For what?” “For forgiving me. For coming along with me on my work day. For being understanding. For letting me speak about the tadpoles. I don’t often get to discuss these things with other people.”

“Oh. You don’t need to thank me for that. I like listening to you speak. You have a very soothing voice.” Vel was quiet for a second. “Oh, and you’re welcome.”

Grace hummed and threaded her free hand through his crest. His eyes drifted shut. He leaned back against her. A soft rumble sounded through his chest, almost like a purr. Grace felt her eyes closing as well. It was beautifully warm, and if she shifted a little and dangled her feet in the water, it added a cool, soothing element. Vel shifted a little to wrap his arms around her.

And then about twelve pounds of velociraptor cannonballed itself into Grace’s stomach.

She jerked, limbs flailing involuntarily. Vel’s head, previously resting on her shoulder, shot up. The soft dirt at the edge of the pond crumbled under their sudden movements and gave way. Vel barely had time to shriek before he slid sideways into the water.

Grace, sitting on a better-structured patch of dirt, didn’t slip, but was soaked anyway by Vel’s panicked flailing. It calmed within a moment when he realized the pond was only about five feet deep and he could stand pretty easily. He shook his head, spraying water from his crest.

“Ow,” Grace said. Boho, the raptor who had launched into her stomach, blinked innocently. The three other raptors watched with the wide eyed interest of children whose sibling had just broken a prized possession.

Vel spat out a mouthful of water. “Are you all right?”

“Nothing I haven’t been through before,” Grace said, fixing Boho with her sternest stare. Boho’s crest drooped and she crept off of Grace’s lap like a scolded puppy. “Are you all right?”

“Wet,” Vel said. He braced his arms on the bank and heaved himself up. “But not harmed.” He shook himself off like a wet dog. The water cleared fairly easily from his scaly skin, but his crest and tail were saturated, as was his outfit. Grace’s clothes were similarly soaked.

“I was going to suggest that we headed back,” Grace said, “but I suppose it makes more sense to wait here until we dry off.”

Vel smiled, sharp teeth glinting. “Maybe we should get out of these wet clothes, first? It might help them dry quicker.”

Grace lifted an eyebrow, but she couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “I suppose.” She smiled at him as he stood and started to undo the straps of his clothes. “I love you.”

Vel paused in his undressing to kiss her forehead. “I love you, too.” His grin widened and became wicked. “Now strip.”

#exophilia #exophilia writing #lizard folk #sauriosapien #monster boyfriend #monster lover #dinosaur #OCxOC #fluff #established relationship

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americxn · 3 years

Note

hii! congrats on 240 followers, you deserve it!! I was wondering if you could write a little fluff on the reader and jpm going out somewhere in town (on halloween since he can only go out then) and just exploring the city. the rest is up to you but I think it’d be sweet!! :)

Yes yes yessss, I absolutely love this idea. Thank you for requesting, I hope this is okay <3

word count: 1.4k

“Hi.” You smiled breathlessly as you walked hurriedly across the hotel foyer, James stood waiting for you by the large doors of the entryway. A jolt of excitement rushed through you as you beheld him, his usual former attire having been replaced by a simple pair of black denim jeans and a light grey hoodie. He stood slightly awkwardly, his feet splayed out beneath him at the tightness of the jeans that he wasn’t accustomed to. You mentally cooed at his appearance, at how cute he looked with the hood of the large sweater gathered about his neck. This outfit he reserved for one night and one night only: halloween. He held out his arm with a gracious smile, your own slipping into place, entwining with his as you instinctively leaned into him. “Sorry,” you began breathlessly, “I needed to sort something quickly. Please don’t ask questions.” You added at the inquisitive look he shot you, his eyebrow cocking up slightly. “Are you ready?” You prompted, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet. “Yes, dearest. Although it seems as if you’re more excited than I am.” He observed fondly. You nodded absentmindedly, your hand itching to wrench open the doors and drag James out onto the night-bathed street beyond. “You look good, by the way.” You commented quietly, a dazzling smile appearing on James’ lips as he held out a sweater-clad arm, the door beginning to open under his touch.

The cool night air was soft against your face as you and James wandered the block surrounding the hotel, then the next, and the next, talking quietly and pointing out the stars as they appeared one-by-one in the night sky. James’ occasional content sighs from beside you was all the confirmation you needed to allow him to soak up the night sky, the quiet streets and the occasional car that drove idly by. “I love the night sky.” James admitted quietly from beside you after several minutes of silence, his neck craned at an uncomfortable looking angle to take in the expanse of crawling night above you, it’s surface littered with constellations and swirls of galaxies. Your heart cracked slightly at the hidden longing on his face, creasing the corners of his mouth ever-so-slightly, but you forced yourself to huff a small laugh, determined not to bring a single ounce of negativity into James’ night in the city. “I’ll take note. We can watch them from the roof of the hotel next time they’re this bright.” You suggested, squeezing his arm lightly in yours. He tore his gaze from the dark sky momentarily to offer you a loving glance. “My darling, you are too good to me.” You waved a hand with a grunt, your lips opening. James interjected before you could speak. “I mean it, my life meant nothing until I met you.” You had to force your feet to keep moving at the sincerity in his tone, your heart singing from within the confines of your chest at his words. “You always say that.” You began, looking up at the stars with him, neither of you paying any heed to where you were walking. “But I don’t think you realise that it goes both ways.” You finished, patting his hand that had sunk into the large sleeve of his hoodie, just his knuckles and fingers exposed to the cold night air. “Anyways,” you moved the conversation quickly ahead, the next phase of your plan beginning. “I reserved us a place at my favourite cafe. It does the best pancakes.” You gushed, picking up your pace, James tearing his gaze back down to earth as you dragged him along. Half an hour later, the two of you sat knee-to-knee in the corner of the little cafe, your table situated right by the window. A half-eaten stack of pancakes lay between you, your fork scooping into the mess of batter, whipped cream and strawberries for the fortieth time. You brought the forkful up to James mouth, your other hand cupped beneath the large mouthful of desert to ensure that none fell. “Here, try some with the chocolate sauce.” James opened his mouth compliantly and he hummed as he chewed, his eyes bright. “It’s good, yes?” He nodded, swallowing before answering you. “Delicious dearest. Almost as good as Miss Evers’ cooking, dare I say.” You nodded in agreement, picking up another forkful of food and allowing yourself another delectable bite. “I’m getting so full though.” You mumbled. James looked at you in adoration as you chewed your mouthful. Your eyes flicked to his. You thinly avoided choking on your food as you forced yourself to swallow, a loud laugh coming from you. “What is it?” James inquired, his eyes curious and his mouth bent upwards in amusement. You pointed at the white substance smeared across the corner of James’ thin, dark moustache. “You have cream in your moustache.” You giggled, lifting off of your seat as you stood slightly to reach across the table, your thumb gently swiping the cream from his lip. “Ah,” James muttered, running the back of his hand self-consciously across his upper lip. “It’s okay, I got it.” You chuckled, watching as a soft blush lit up the apples of his pale face. “What is it now?” He asked warily, eyeing up your expression. “Nothing,” you replied, your attention turning back to the beloved stack of pancakes before you. “I just don’t think that I’ve ever seen you blush before.” Midnight came around quickly, the pancakes sitting like a stone in your stomach as you hurried along the streets, James’ hand clasped around yours as you checked the time on your phone once more. Turning the corner onto the next block, you reluctantly slid your hand out of James’ warm hold. “Okay, wait here.” You ordered, eyeing up the large ornate building that towered before you, glancing back at James whose attention had already been drawn across the street to a group of rowdy, clearly drunk, teenagers dressed in cheap halloween costumes. You smiled excitedly behind James’ back, suppressing a squeal as you turned on your heel and took the steps to the entrance of the building. When you returned five minutes later, James was still stood on the sidewalk, a strange glint in his eyes as he surveyed the world around him. “James.” You called, waving him towards you. His head snapped to you, a smile spreading across his face at your re-appearance and he took the steps quickly, falling into place at your side. “Okay.” You began, pausing before the large double doors. “I know you don’t like surprises.” He cut you a wary glance. “But,” You ignored his look, pushing open one of the doors and gesturing for him to enter as you continued. “I wanted to do something special for you.” James stepped inside the foyer of the building, his arms clasping behind his back as he entered in silence. The door clicked shut behind you as you followed him inside. The hard marble clicked beneath your feet as you went ahead of James, turning in a circle with your arms raised above your head. He met your gaze, a look of understanding spreading across his face as he surveyed the space, the signs and pictures that littered the walls of the room answering his question of “where the hell have you taken me.” James had a little bookshelf in the corner of your shared rooms of the Hotel Cortez, a majority of his beloved books being about evolution and natural science. It was a specific interest of his that he often rambled about when you were eating dinner, or lying in bed in each other’s arms on the verge of sleep. So, you had hired out the natural history museum in your area. It had taken a fuck ton of money to convince the owners, but the look of utmost reverence that James now looked at you with made every penny worth it. “Come on,” you encouraged, James seemingly rooted to the spot at your surprise. “We have the entire building to ourselves until four in the morning.” You explained, James’ footsteps slow as he made his way to you, his head moving to survey the tall ceiling and the many rooms that branched off of the large marble reception. “Our only rule: we can’t break anything.” You finished as James finally reached your side, the force with which he moved in to press a kiss to your lips almost knocking air from you, his smile against your mouth obvious.

#american horror story #ahs #hotel #hotel cortez #james patrick march #james march #fluff

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seehowsupplethespineis · 3 years

Text

When the Wind Roars

(I can’t believe I finally finished this!!! This story was originally intended to be much shorter, but...obviously I got a bit carried away. Expect lots of angst. There’s some fluff, too, but mostly ANGST.)

(Plot Summary: In the past, Starscream and Skyfire made quite the team, but even then, that partnership was put to the test. In the present, Starscream and Skyfire do battle, as Starscream tries to rid himself of their shared memories once and for all.)

(Warnings: violence, guns, injury, a bit of disturbing imagery, death mention, lots of vengeful thoughts)

Present

The wind roared deafeningly at the peak of the mountain. It had only picked up in intensity in the few cycles they’d been stationed here, bringing with it a relentless rain that blanketed the world in hues of grey. Starscream scowled as he hastened to catch a stray bit of metal before it went tumbling off the mountainside, his feet nearly slipping out from under him in the sea of mud. He hated this weather. It was cold and wet and impossible to work in.

Of course, Starscream had faced far worse weather than this, but that was of little comfort.

Rumble was also fed up. After face planting in the mud for the fourth time, the minicon threw down his supply of metal beams with a cry of outrage.

“This is stupid!” he exclaimed, “How does Megatron expect us to build anything up here?!”

Starscream scowled at him, “I did not say you could stop working!”

Rumble’s small fists balled up at his sides, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Starscream didn’t like to be challenged. Without hesitation, he chucked the piece of metal he’d been holding at Rumble, who toppled over once more.

“I said work!” The other Decepticons hastened to comply as Rumble crawled out from under the metal, studiously avoiding Starscream’s withering glare.

In all honesty, Starscream was just as furious as Rumble, though his frustration was more because he was forced to work up here on this Primusforsaken mountain; he should be leading an attack on the Autobots, not laboring in the mud. This was far beneath him.

Despite his demand that everyone keep working, Starscream paused to look up at the sky. It was grey and murky but a ray of light shone through, reaching only so far as to give a hint of warmth.

He was reminded of another planet he’d visited millions of years ago. It was just as wet and windy as this one; just as meddlesome. He hadn’t been alone then, either, nor was he alone when he’d first visited this accursed planet.

A few rain drops splattered on his optics and Starscream violently wiped them away, an irritated snarl escaping him.

“Starscream!” It was Thundercracker.

“What now?!”

“Autobots!”

At first, Starscream didn’t believe him. There was no road up to this mountain. The wheel-bound Autobots would be unable to make it up here; even by foot, the journey was too perilous. The only way up was through flight.

Starscream’s optics widened. He lowered his servos from his face to find the mountainside cast in shadow. His gaze flicked upward.

Above him, in a halo of light, hovered a large, white jet.

Starscream felt sudden heat swell within him despite the cold.

“Shoot him out of the sky!!!”

A distant planet, millions of years ago...

“This is very likely a bad idea.”

“You say that about everything.”

“No, I only say that when a situation seems hazardous...this situation seems hazardous.”

“Honestly, Skyfire, you can be so cowardly sometimes,” Starscream transformed back to root mode as he touched down on a muddy precipice. He scowled as his feet sank into the muck but kept a chipper tone as he addressed his partner, “I can barely feel the wind!”

Skyfire set down beside him. The sudden weight of the two jets shook the cliffside, sending a few boulders tumbling over the edge. Skyfire watched their descent and frowned.

“You’ve seen the weather report, Starscream,” he said quietly, “The storm could pick up any moment now.

Starscream waved a flippant servo. Raindrops spiraled off his digits, “If it does, we can handle it! We’ve suffered through far worse, you and I.”

“Perhaps,” said Skyfire, “But nothing which hampered our ability to fly away.”

Starscream shook his head; he loved Skyfire, but sometimes he was a real pain in the afterburner. They’d been on countless exploration missions before and faced plenty of unsavory weather conditions; floods, earthquakes, they’d survived them all. What was a little storm to them?

“If you want to go, fine!” Starscream started walking, “I’ll complete this mission myself.”

He’d barely taken two steps before Skyfire was at his side, as Starscream knew he’d be. The smaller jet grinned up at him and Skyfire sighed.

“Let’s just get a lay of the land and go. We can come back for those crystal samples we’re supposed to investigate when the storm lets up.”

Starscream heaved a dramatic sigh, “That could take ages, Skyfire, and we’re on a tight schedule! We’re meant to be returning to Cybertron soon.”

Skyfire glanced away at that. Starscream narrowed his optics.

“What is it?”

Fiddling with his portable scanner, Skyfire shook his head, “It’s just...Cybertron has been so...contentious of late. Part of the reason I volunteered for this expedition was because I wanted to get away for a while.”

“I thought you volunteered because I volunteered,” Starscream said with a slight smirk.

Skyfire glanced at him and smiled, “I do have a mind of my own, you know.”

“Yes,” Starscream agreed, “And it’s smart enough to follow me.”

A laugh escaped the larger jet, “Or dumb enough.”

“Nonsense! We’re highly intelligent bots, Skyfire,” Starscream ruined the sentiment by tripping over a boulder, but Skyfire righted him before his face hit the mud. Coughing slightly to hide his embarrassment, Starscream continued, “That’s why we work so perfectly together.”

Skyfire still kept a hold of Starscream’s arm as he considered his partner’s words. At last, he let his servo drift down to clutch Starscream’s hand.

“Interesting hypothesis.”

Starscream’s processor seemed to momentarily short out, but it came back online as Skyfire regarded him fondly with those brilliant blue eyes of his. Flustered, Starscream only stared, until eventually he managed to connect his processor back to his voice.

“Interesting fact,” he corrected, squeezing Skyfire’s hand, “That we shall prove now!”

He pointed up the mountain with his free servo. High above, the faintest gleam, as of polished metal, twinkled in the faint light.

“Those are the crystals.”

Skyfire squinted up at them and raised his scanner, “Hmm...they definitely have a high energy output. Akin to energon.”

“We need a sample,” Starscream broke away from Skyfire so he could take flight. Skyfire laid a hand on his shoulder before he could.

“Starscream, look at those clouds,” Skyfire gestured up at the - admittedly - ominous sky above them, “I would not advise flying.”

“So what, we climb?” Starscream had to shout to be heard over a sudden gust of wind.

“No, we wait until the weather becomes more favorable.”

A burst of lightning and a rumble of thunder punctuated Skyfire’s words. Starscream couldn’t deny the sudden thrill of apprehension that shot through his system, but he wasn’t about to be bested by a mere storm.

“I’m going for it!”

“Don’t!” Skyfire’s grip on his shoulder was more insistent, “The wind is picking up. You could get blown into the mountain side or crash to the ground. And those crystals are brimming with unstable energy! We shouldn’t get too-!”

“I am a scientist, Skyfire!” Starscream shook free of the other jet, “I know how to handle dangerous substances. And I know how to handle myself, thank you very much!”

Skyfire opened his mouth but whatever he said was lost to the wind.

“What?!” Starscream shouted.

“I said, we must seek shelter!”

“We’re on a cliff! Where-” Starscream’s response was cut short as a large rock tumbled down from above, forcing the smaller jet to leap out of the way. Scowling, he glanced up to where the rock had come from, and his optics widened as he saw still more crashing down.

“Move!” Skyfire yelled. As one, he and Starscream dove off the cliff and transformed back to jet mode. Instantly, Starscream felt the wind buffet his wings, threatening to splatter him against the cliff side. Okay, he conceded to himself, Maybe the weather is too much.

The rain poured down in earnest, now, blanketing Starscream’s windshield to the point where the world became a hazy, grey blur. A bolt of lightning arced down. It was far, far too close for his liking, and Starscream instinctively swerved away.

Extending his long range sensors, he sought a safe place to land below. Skyfire would be doing the same, he knew. His sensors probed the sky around him, trying to pinpoint the white jet so they could touch down together.

Something within him froze. He extended his sensors further, as far as he could. His engines faltered. The wind pressed in around him, rattling him to his very core, but he paid no heed.

In a moment’s frantic decision, Starscream transformed back to root mode and scanned the landscape with his optics.

Even as he plummeted to the ground, he called out desperately.

“SKYFIRE!”

Present

Energy bolts lit up the gloomy mountain as the Decepticons opened fire. As if sensing the sudden hostility, lightning split open the sky and a deep, resounding rumble followed soon after. Starscream’s optics were momentarily dazzled by the stunning displays surrounding him, and when they adjusted, three Autobots had leaped down from the sky to stand before him.

He recognized their leader, of course. Optimus Prime leveled a weapon at Starscream, though the jet paid little mind. Even as the Prime spoke, his voice deep and commanding, Starscream didn’t heed. Instead, he watched as the large, white jet above transformed and fell to the mountain top just behind Prime.

Something within Starscream burned as he locked gazes with Skyfire. Blazing red optics met piercing blue. They sliced through Starscream, as cold as the ice Skyfire had rested in for millions of years. Starscream didn’t recognize those eyes. He couldn’t even recall what they’d used to look like, though he remembered how they’d made him burn with a fire entirely different from the one raging within him now.

Prime shouted something. The Autobots charged. Two of them - Ironhide and Prowl - rushed to meet Thundercracker and Rumble. Prime defended himself against an emboldened Skywarp. And Skyfire, stance steady despite the shifting mud, raised his gun at Starscream.

The seething rage within him ignited and Starscream opened fire. Despite his immense size, Skyfire dodged, nearly trampling a terrified Rumble. Starscream didn’t let up, even as Skyfire took aim and forced him to launch off the ground to avoid the blast. Transforming into jet mode, he streaked through the air, null rays zeroed in on Skyfire’s bulky frame.

Skyfire fired off a few more shots, forcing Starscream to alter his course. His flight took him close to the other battling Autobots and Decepticons. Ironhide fired a few bolts at him and Starscream hurried to avoid the crossfire of his and Skyfire’s weapons. The distraction infuriated him and Starscream took a moment to fire on the red Autobot. Suitably cowed, Ironhide returned to his tussle with Rumble, leaving Starscream to focus every bit of his ire on the white mech firing on him from afar.

Their battle grew removed from that of the others. With each attack, they drew further away, further toward the edge. Starscream didn’t care. He refused to be beaten by this mountain or the wind and rain that assaulted him. He wanted Skyfire dead. That was all that mattered.

He streaked through the air. He was close now. Skyfire stood no chance. Sudden giddiness grabbed hold of Starscream as he imagined Skyfire offline at his feet. The traitor would die a traitor’s death; there would be no mercy.

But Starscream’s perceived victory was short-lived. Before he could even slow down, Skyfire dove forward, managing to come up under him. A servo closed around his wing and Starscream shrieked as Skyfire swung him into the ground. He landed painfully and it took a moment for him to recover enough to shift back to root mode. When he did, Skyfire stood over him, gun leveled at his face.

All was quiet, as if the increasing downpour had muted the world. The wind that howled so relentlessly before had petered out. The battle raging behind them was a distant nuisance, almost inconsequential. For all Starscream cared, the world consisted of only him, Skyfire, and the gun between them. The shaking gun.

Starscream’s gaze flicked to meet Skyfire’s. Those blue eyes stared back with a wavering resolve. For a moment that seemed to stretch across millions of years, neither made a move.

The wind sprang back to life, the distant battle drew nearer, and Skyfire still hadn’t fired. What are you waiting for? Starscream wanted to shout, Finish it!

But Skyfire didn’t, and this, more than anything, sent a surge of loathing through Starscream’s system. It fueled his null ray as he raised it in one deft movement.

Skyfire had no time to react. The force of the blast sent him careening back, his feet slipping in the mud, gun falling from his slack hand. There was no time for him to regain his balance.

Starscream watched him fall over the edge. He didn’t react for a few long moments after. All he could do was stare at the space Skyfire had occupied.

He’s gone, Something within Starscream’s spark shrank in on itself, I can’t see him.

His processor fixated on that one thought. I can’t see him. I can’t see him!

He stumbled forward, a desperate cry escaping him.

“SKYFIRE!!!”

Past

Not even the relentless gale could slow Starscream’s descent. He tore through the air, the wind shrieking as if in protest, his limbs flailing uselessly. He knew he needed to transform; if he didn’t, he’d be nothing but a mound of smashed metal and circuitry. As the image flashed in his mind, he couldn’t help but envision a similar corpse, this one much larger and a stark white against the dark landscape.

Starscream quashed the thought as soon as it arose. Skyfire wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Those were two differing thoughts, Starscream knew, but his processor couldn’t help but bounce between them. He’s not dead, because if he is then...There was no conclusion that Starscream dared consider, so he focused his processor, attempting to ignore the threat of his imminent demise.

He felt his transformation cog whir to life, though the transformation was made clumsy by the unconventional circumstances. The mess of green below drew nearer, serving as an unnecessary reminder that he needed to pull up fast.

Acting purely on instinct, his engines rocketed him forward. He felt leaves skim his wings as he struggled to pull upward, making for the murky grey of the clouds above. The wind was a constant assailant that threatened to dash him into the trees or the mountainside. Lightning split open the sky over and over, closer and closer.

Was that what happened? Had Skyfire been hit by a stray lightning bolt? The concept forced Starscream to tax his engines harder than he ever had. With a burst of speed, he shot upward, letting the trees be swallowed by the mist once more. Again, he extended his sensors and cursed his lack of visibility.

“SKYFIRE!!!”

No response. Starscream knew he wasn’t thinking straight as he veered closer to the mountain, seeking any hint that Skyfire may have crashed. His wing clipped a jutting boulder and he nearly smashed into the cliff face himself as he went careening off course. He was forced to climb higher in a desperate attempt not to meet with the rocks below.

Where is he? He couldn’t think. Couldn’t see, Where is he?!

Something glittered nearby, almost like…

Metal. Starscream threw himself forward, heedless of the risk, “Skyfire!!!”

The wind pulled at his wings, trying to drag him down. The noise was cacophonous, forcing his engines to roar all the louder. He would not be bested. He was so close…

The glittering material suddenly sharpened into focus. The hope glittering just as brightly within him dimmed.

In the faint light shimmered the very reason for this accursed mission. The energy crystals. No sign of Skyfire.

Starscream’s spark sank. He was sure it would drop right out of his fuselage and shatter on the jagged rocks far below. Maybe another spark was already waiting for it.

Thunder continued to growl overhead. Lightning tore through the darkness and illuminated the entire cliff side in brilliant white. An instinctive part of Starscream knew what was coming, but there was no time to react. He could only stare as the lightning zigzagged down and struck the shimmering rocks.

The crystals exploded. Shards smashed open Starscream’s cockpit and embedded themselves in his battered frame. He may have screamed, but he couldn’t hear it. Stabbing pain coursed through his entire being. It overwhelmed him, so much so that he didn’t realize he was falling until he smashed into a jutting, sloped cliff. The impact jarred loose a faint recollection.

Those crystals are brimming with unstable energy! We shouldn’t get too-

Skyfire had warned him. He’d warned him about everything, and what had Starscream said? Honestly, Skyfire, you can be so cowardly sometimes.

He felt himself sliding slowly toward the edge. Desperately, he forced himself to transform. His cockpit grated over the rocky terrain and another dizzying bout of agony washed over him. He could hear his scream this time.

Legs dangling into nothingness, Starscream sought for something to grab onto. His servos dug into the mud, clutching at nothing but loose pebbles. The cliff was too unstable and his body too heavy. The inevitable outcome to his struggles became alarmingly clear.

I’m going to fall, he stilled and felt himself slip further, I’m going to die.

There would be no saving himself this time; he’d smash to pieces on the rocks below before his taxed transformation cog could even come online. His vision flickered as his cockpit continued to grind over the rocks, bringing him ever closer to his doom. All Starscream could manage now was a faint whimper, his screams spent.

He knew he deserved this; it was his fault that he and Skyfire had been caught up in this Primusforsaken storm on this Primusforsaken planet. His fault that Skyfire was likely a shattered corpse on the mountain side. Still, as he began his final descent, a voice - a shameful voice that refused to be quieted no matter how much he tried - shrieked in his head, clamoring to be heard above all else.

I don’t want to die!

Terror seized his spark, shocking his limbs into one last, frantic attempt at salvation. It was futile.

I DON’T WANT TO DIE!

He fell. Opening his mouth, he let out a final, broken scream.

“Skyfire!!!”

“I’ve got you!”

As suddenly as the fall had begun, it stopped. His arm pulled taught and lances of pain pierced through it and his cockpit. The world disappeared, sapped of everything but a cold blackness. After countless moments, warmth and color seeped back in, as a familiar voice, the one that had called to him, spoke again. It was insistent, desperate, as were the arms clasping his limp form. Starscream’s optics fritzed a bit before coming back online. He was in some kind of cave. He could see the deep grey of the sky just beyond and feel the wind and rain graze his wing. It was all remote though. He was more aware of the arms wrapped protectively about him, the feel of someone large and sturdy holding him close. Above all else, he saw brilliant blue optics staring down at him. He watched them soften as a quiet sigh reached his auditory sensors. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

“Thank Primus,” Skyfire breathed, “Starscream, can you hear me?”

Starscream wanted to respond but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare, drinking in the sight of the bot before him. Skyfire was alive. Somehow his mind couldn’t yet process it. He was here. They were together again.

Skyfire’s anxious voice broke in on his thoughts, “It’s okay, Starscream, it’s okay,” It was only then that the smaller jet realized he’d started babbling.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he gasped, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Skyfire repeated, “We’re okay.”

Starscream couldn’t stop, “We almost died! I-I almost killed us!”

“But we’re okay now,” Skyfire replied gently, “I’ve got you.”

He rested a servo on the back of Starscream’s head. The touch snapped Starscream back to his senses and he shoved him away. The movement sent shards of pain through him and he clutched a servo to the mangled cockpit situated over his chest.

“Don’t,” he hissed as Skyfire reached for him. He was still shielded by the cave, but he could feel the wind lap hungrily at his wings as he moved backward.

He stopped - afraid to move any further - and met Skyfire’s worried gaze.

“How...” he began, pausing for a moment to gather his strength, “How can you...This is all my fault! I should have listened to you! Skyfire, I...You could have died because of me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Stop saying that!”

Skyfire regarded him helplessly. Starscream hated it.

“Why aren’t you mad?” he prompted angrily, “You should be furious! You should be...Stop looking at me like that!!!”

He didn’t. “Do you want me to be mad?” Skyfire asked quietly.

Yes...No. “I don’t know!!! Just-” he had to pause before the pain overwhelmed him.

Skyfire moved closer. Starscream told himself not to, but his whole frame ached and trembled and he yearned to be back in Skyfire’s arms, so when Skyfire reached again, the smaller jet could do nothing but melt into him. He cursed his weakness.

“Starscream,” Skyfire’s voice pierced through the turmoil within him. Defeated, Starscream could only listen.

“I’m not angry with you. I don’t think I could ever be angry with you. Don’t ask me why; I don’t know either. What I do know is that I lost you in the storm and assumed the worst, so even though you’re upset, I’d like to just hold you for a while, if that’s okay.”

It was far too easy to comply. Already relaxed against Skyfire, Starscream let himself be pulled closer. The larger jet took special care not to aggravate his injury. It would need to be dealt with, but not now. Right this moment, all Starscream needed was the surety of Skyfire’s arms around him. All his guilt and shame still burned within him, but he couldn’t focus on it if he tried.

They were safe. They were together. That was all that mattered.

“I’ve got you,” Skyfire murmured again, “I’ve always got you.”

Present

The edge of the mountain was shrouded in rain and mist. Even as Starscream dove toward it, he couldn’t be certain he hadn’t flung himself off. His arm extended into nothing. His feet dug into the mud as he felt himself fall forward, just barely managing to snag a jutting rock.

As his entire frame came to a jarring halt, Starscream’s processor seemed to rattle with it. What was he doing? He couldn’t think. The image of Skyfire’s frightened face as he tumbled over the edge was seared into his mind. It was all he could focus on.

I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.

“Skyfire!!!” The call reverberated through Starscream’s spark, splitting it open as forgotten feelings and buried dreams clawed their way out. He couldn’t halt the flood; it washed over him, drowning him in memories.

“Starscream!”

That voice - as it always had - snapped him from the mire of his mind. He peered downward. Just below him, hanging by a crumbling ledge, was Skyfire.

For a moment, it was Starscream hanging for dear life, crying out for rescue. He blinked and the roles reversed again.

As his precarious handhold collapsed beneath his digits, Skyfire desperately tried to bring another servo up to help. He was forced to stop as the movement only made him slip faster. Rain hissed over the place where Starscream had shot him and he grimaced as smoke blended with the mist. He looked up, blue optics shining in the gloom. Starscream nearly lost his grip when they focused on him.

He recognized those optics. They were the very same that used to look at him as if he were the most lovely thing in the universe. Even when they’d explored new, vibrant planets, he’d felt those optics gazing at him with a fondness that made him want to both laugh and scream. He wasn’t sure which he did now, but from the way the blue of Skyfire’s eyes widened with recognition of his own, he figured it was laughter.

“Skyfire…” he reached for him.

Eyes shining, Skyfire’s servo lifted to meet his, “...Starscream?”

His handhold crumbled even more but neither paid any heed. The storm and the clash of Autobots and Decepticons became remote. This time, though, the world didn’t seem to shrink until it was just the two of them. It seemed to grow. Starscream felt a heavy weight in his spark start to lift. His servo reached past millions of years to seek out that familiar yet forgotten touch. He wanted it more than anything, just a hint at what they once were and could be again.

In the faltering light, the insignia affixed to Skyfire’s chest gleamed.

The world shrank. The weight in Starscream’s spark settled back down until he almost felt it would drag him over the edge.

He snatched his hand away just as Skyfire’s digits grazed his own. The touch was like electricity arcing through him. It was tantalizingly, achingly familiar. It promised love and security and everything that had been denied him for millions of years.

It was a convincing lie, but Starscream couldn’t be fooled that easily.

As he stood up slowly, Skyfire’s round, wide, and impossibly blue optics followed him. Starscream wanted to plunge his digits into them until the Autobot started screaming. The flicker of horror he felt at the thought died instantly as Skyfire spoke again.

“Starscream?” he repeated, his voice wavering.

It was his voice, and for the first time in his long, painful life, Starscream was not consoled by it.

“You…” His voice should have been lost to the wind but somehow Skyfire heard and grew deathly silent.

Memories collided within Starscream’s mind. Skyfire holding him, speaking softly to him, laughing with him, exploring with him, rescuing him...

They were all lies. Skyfire betrayed him. Starscream had circled half the globe searching for him, carried the weight of guilt for so long that it had become as familiar as flight, suffered in silence for cycles upon cycles, all for what?

“Starscream,” the Autobot begged, “Please.”

The plea was music to Starscream’s auditory sensors. He let it play, let Skyfire try to sway him again, enjoying every moment of the Autobot’s agony.

Skyfire’s voice grew quiet, “Don’t you remember?”

Starscream hesitated. He did remember. All of it. His fists clenched as his foot stomped downward.

“TRAITOR!!!”

Helpless, Skyfire could only give a strangled cry as Starscream’s foot crunched into his upturned face. The Decepticon watched his enemy fall, his own face lighting up with a terrible grin.

Skyfire barely managed to slow his descent by digging his servos into the muddy cliffside just enough to crash into a protruding ledge. He lay there motionless for countless moments, his recent fall marked by dents in his fuselage and muddy stains dimming his crisp white. He looked broken. Starscream couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

When Skyfire at last came to, his gaze was unfocused. The clear blue of his eyes were crusted with dirt and likely cracked by the impact of Starscream’s foot. The steady rain did a poor job of washing all the muck from his frame, only succeeding in making it bleed into the remaining white. His optics turned upward and somehow found Starscream in the hazy mist. He almost seemed to know where the other jet was without needing to see.

It was there, atop that war torn peak, that Skyfire first looked upon Starscream with fury. No, not fury. Hate.

“Skyfire!” Optimus Prime’s booming voice echoed across the mountain, “Where are you?”

Starscream turned. The Autobots stood on a field of victory, the remains of the Decepticons’ machine scattered amongst its fallen creators. He scowled and turned to confront his foes, when he felt a sudden whoosh of air blast past him. Looking up, he watched as Skyfire sailed over his head to land heavily on the mountaintop.

Without hesitation, Starscream opened fire, only to hit the dirt when the other Autobots returned it. By the time he tentatively lifted his head, all three Autobots had retreated into Skyfire’s fuselage. NO! Starscream rushed forward, his guns vainly attempting to bring the cargo plane down even though he knew he was out of range.

“NO!” he shrieked into the mist, “COME BACK, YOU COWARD!”

But Skyfire had already been lost to the grey sky, leaving Starscream alone. Again.

He continued to stare at the space where he’d last seen Skyfire, unable to look away. He felt as if he’d been awoken from a cruel dream. It took every bit of his willpower not to scream his agony into the sky above. All he wanted in that moment was to hunt Skyfire down and make him suffer. He wanted to hear his screams of terror as he at last cornered him and slammed him into the dirt, gun pointed right between those too blue optics.

How could you do this? He’d scream, Did any of it matter? Did I matter?

Starscream knew the answer already. He turned to face his forces, who all looked to him for guidance.

“Decepticons, take flight!” Without waiting to see if they followed, Starscream transformed and took to the air. To his dismay, there was no trace of the Autobots. They’d be back, though; they never stayed down.

One of them will, Starscream vowed, That traitor will die by my hand.

The rain continued to pour as three jets - and one passenger cassette - returned to their base, leaving the mountain top to be shrouded in mist once more. All they left of their battle were the remnants of an evil machine and a singular gun that had slipped from a foolish Autobot’s hand.

Epilogue- Past

The flight back to Cybertron felt like it lasted millions of cycles. Crouched in Skyfire’s fuselage, Starscream lamented as much to his partner. Skyfire’s only response was an exasperated yet fond sigh; Starscream could tell he was just glad to hear him speak without wheezing.

The damage to his cockpit was extensive but not life-threatening. After a thorough inspection, Skyfire had determined as much. He’d carefully removed some of the smaller bits of crystal from Starscream’s frame and left the larger ones to be handled by a medic. Starscream had wanted to appear brave, but he hadn’t been able to stifle the quiet whimper that escaped him. Luckily, Skyfire responded by wrapping him up in another hug, which had instantly soothed the smaller jet.

When they at last returned to Cybertron, Skyfire was quick to usher him to a medic. In fact, Starscream’s feet barely touched the ground before Skyfire scooped him up and rushed into the medical facility. The hospital was just one branch of the science center that had been built there. For the most part, the civil unrest that had broken out over Cybertron had not affected the science community. It was only a matter of time, though.

Starscream and Skyfire were meant to report to their superiors in the Scientific Exploration department. After much convincing from Starscream, Skyfire had at last agreed to leave his side and speak with the higher-ups, taking a few samples of crystal with him, also at Starscream’s urging. It was what they’d been sent for, after all; it shouldn’t matter that they’d ended up having to gather it from Starscream’s mangled cockpit.

The procedure to repair his cockpit was fairly long but luckily Starscream was in stasis for most of it. When he awakened and examined himself, he was pleased by the results. He didn’t think he’d ever seen his windows shine quite so brightly. He couldn’t help but hope Skyfire would notice, too.

Skyfire was pacing in the waiting room when he emerged. The moment Skyfire spotted him, he almost seemed to teleport to his side.

“Are you okay? I was worried something had gone wrong.”

“Don’t worry, Skyfire,” Starscream said with a slight smile, “I am the picture of health.”

Skyfire looked him up and down, “You’re certainly...shinier,” he said with a bit of awe.

Starscream beamed internally, “Thank you for noticing.”

The two walked out side by side, arms brushing. Starscream wanted to savor the moment, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, what did our bosses have to say?” he asked, barely hiding his disdain. He didn’t like having to report to superiors; he’d rather make his own decisions than comply with someone else’s. Maybe one day…

“The crystals seem promising, though they’ll have to perform further tests,” Skyfire replied, “In the meantime, there’s another planet they want us to investigate right away. It’s uncharted, as of yet. There might not even be intelligent life on the surface, though long distance scans hint to a great energy source.”

Ordinarily, Starscream would have leaped for joy at an assignment such as this, but as he watched Skyfire speak, he couldn’t help but recall how close he’d been to losing him. They were lucky to stand here together at all.

Sensing his hesitation, Skyfire favored Starscream with a concerned frown, “What’s the matter?”

“You know what’s the matter,” Starscream huffed. He didn’t mean to take his anger out on his partner - especially since he was really mad at himself - but it was difficult. Skyfire didn’t respond in kind, though. He never did.

“It’ll be okay, Starscream,” Skyfire reached down to grasp his servo firmly, “So long as we’re together, we’ll be okay.”

And because Skyfire’s voice never failed to console him, Starscream believed what he said. He squeezed his servo back and smiled up into Skyfire’s brilliant blue eyes.

“Together, then.”

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char-lotteral · 3 years

Note

Hmm

Could you tell us which naruhina fanfics are ur all time faves?

!!! I love sharing my fave fics X)) this is gonna be long list sooo :D

The Substitute by wasabisugar - Hinata has a new English teacher, turns out he's in his early 20's, oh and he's hot. ongoing teacher x student au, no creepy age gap. hot, responsible, education-oriented, college student Naruto.

Study Buddy by calamity heart - Naruto and Hinata are study buddies in college. During one study session in Naruto's dorm, things... escalate quickly. college au, short, smutty, sweet

It's No Secret by @dayseternal-blog - Hinata comes back to her old high school and sees a familiar face. highschool au,

Serentiy Prayer by @katarinahime - While on the airport, Hinata Otsutsuki crosses path with Naruto Namikaze. Modern au, tw Graphic lemons and graphic violence, mild substance abuse, slight angst. I reread this fic every chance i get. I will wait for an update until my deathbed.

The Delicacy of Growth by @utsus - Hinata starts teaching her own class and teaches the kids the value of patience. canonverse aftet the war

Secret Lovers by @quirrrky - collection of one shots of Naruhina blank period. I recommend reading this before The Last. Their little interactions in this story helps tie everything that happened in the movie<3

Salvage by @waterrolls - What if The Last movie never happened? How would Hinata and Naruto fall in love? This was the story that got me hooked into fanfiction X)))

Engaged or whatever by yuhikoi- a day in the life of Hinata Hyuga modern au.

Put on your warpaint by @borzbois hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out? tattoo artist/art student au

Made in heights by @utsus - Secret Agent Hinata Hyuga goes undercover Spy au

Tale of Two Ninjas by magmawrites- a series of one shots different aus

Night walk by @nekomamoru - At the end of their date. pointless fluff. one shot

Ramen with a smile by @mysterious-crimson-lotus - Where Hinata's a civilian like in the original concept, and works at Ichiraku

White Lillies by @dayseternal-blog -Naruto starts dating. Hinata decides to move on. A sickness takes root in the heart. Hanahaki au

Love is in the air by @vegebulsoup -After discovering many of her friends in the flight crew were engaging in casual sex, Hinata wonders if she could ever be bold enough to approach a certain handsome, blonde pilot. modern au

With you in the future by @chloelapomme - Back at Konoha from their moon mission, Naruto and Hinata learn to know each other, how to live with each other, how to solves problems together, and how to start a family. With their past behind them, their future is right before them.

Nightdreams by @dayseternal-blog -Naruto and Hinata find comfort in each other after the war. FWB. Canonverse. Blank Period

happy reading 😊😊😊

#naruhina #naruhina fanfic recommendations #anon

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little-diable · 4 years

Text

Fictional character - Jasper Hale (smut)

Request by anon: Hi!! Could we get a Jasper Hale X Reader Fluff where the reader is watching Harry Potter and she's absolutely just gushing over Draco and Jasper senses it and gets jealous/kinda insecure and the reader promises he's the only one for her with a lot of PDA bc I am very ✨touch starved✨ (and whatever else you wanna add lol). whenever you can please! I just think it's a cool idea haha.

I turned this into a major smut, I think this wouldn’t just end in cuddles with Jasper and (y/n) haha. Hope you still like it. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Warnings: major Jasper, spanking, swearing

“Sh, Jas’”, (y/n) whined, eyes glued onto the tv screen, admiring Draco Malfoy in all his glory, barely sparing her mate a glance. Jaspers jaw was clenched, hands interlaced in his lap, thinking about all the ways he’d be able to rip the frictional character to shreds. Just as he wanted to let another snarky remark fall from his lips, (y/n) threw a pillow at him, “don’t you dare”.

She had been in love with the prince of Slytherin ever since, gushing over Draco at every chance she got, deep down she thoroughly enjoyed the pissed off expression on Jaspers features, the way he’d touch her extra roughly that night, reminding her who she belongs to. What (y/n) didn’t know, was that he didn’t just feel jealous, with every wave of passion, that would overcome her, he’d feel more and more insecure, wondering why she wouldn’t gush over him like that.

A sigh spilled from her lips, (y/n) ripped her eyes off the tv, finding his sour expression, cumbersomely pressing pause on the remote, turning her body towards Jasper. “Jas’”, she mumbled, hand cupping his cheek, “you don’t need to be jealous of a fictional character”, a light chuckle left her. Jasper kept on staring at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw, “you never talk about me like that”.

The words were enough to make her freeze, suddenly she got pulled down by a massive wave of guilt, she had never realized how much she was hurting Jasper with her obsession, her crush on the character. “Oh Jas’”, (y/n) crawled into his lap, forehead pressed against his, “I love you and I’d always choose you. You’re the only one for me.”. His lips found hers, hands moving up her back, pressing her closer to his chest.

Jasper kissed down her neck, leaving a few dark bruises as he sucked on her skin, marking his territory, as he’d like to call it. “Who do you belong to?”, his rough voice made a smirk appear on her slightly swollen lips, “mhm”, she mumbled, as if she had to think about the question, “I’m not quite sure, maybe D-”, he flipped her around, front pressed into the mattress. A deep growl rumbled through him, jaw muscles clenched, he pushed up her sweater, exposing her behind to his dark eyes, hand meeting her skin, “who do you belong to?”.

“You”, she sobbed, biting into the pillow, he had spanked her a few times before, but never like this, never fueled by his jealousy and hatred. “Good girl”, the more he spoke, the more (y/n) seemed to realize, that the major had switched places with Jasper, taking it upon himself to remind her, that she was his, his alone. He took it up to ten slaps, behind deep red by the time he was finished with her, wearing a proud smirk as he admired his work.

He pulled her onto her knees, pressed against his front, “you’ve been such a brat”, he spat, breath fanning over her skin. Jasper rose from the bed, pulling down his trousers and boxers, grasping her chin to keep her in place, “suck”, she opened her mouth, staring at him with dilated pupils as he began to fuck her mouth. The tip of his length would touch the back of her throat with every thrust of his, (y/n)’d gag around him, hands holding onto his hips, nails piercing into his skin.

“Such a good mouth, but such a bratty little girl, what a shame”, he pressed his teeth together, grasping her ponytail, tugging on her roots, to force her even deeper down on his shaft. Tears were blurring her vision, the corners of her mouth were burning, walls painfully clenching, desperate for some attention. “Fuck”, he relieved himself into her mouth, cum dripping down her throat, the salty flavor was heavy on her tongue as Japer pulled out of her mouth.

He didn’t give her any time to catch her breath, “who do you belong to?”, he repeated the question once again, pushing her back against the mattress, grasping her thighs, spreading them wide enough for him to slide into her heat. “You major”, (y/n) moaned, her thoughts were all over the place, tears were leaving traces down the sides of her face, moaning his name over and over again. “You’re mine, forever” he panted, ferociously pounding in and out of her, stretching her walls with every thrust, set on making her pay.

Jasper wasn’t in the mood for any games, he was chasing both of their orgasms, desperate to hear (y/n) scream his name as she was drowning in her release. “Who do you love?”, he grasped the back of her neck, eyes focused on her spine, “you major”, (y/n) cried, her orgasm was close, ready to push her over the edge any moment. Jasper knew, that she’d stay with him forever, she was his mate after all, but still, he couldn’t get over the way she had spoken about the blonde haired git.

“Are you close?”, he tugged on her ponytail once again, head rising from the pillow, “yes major”, the words were burned into her mind, she didn’t need to think about them, didn’t need to come up with any words, they’d leave her as soon as he’d ask any question. “Let go”, he ordered, skin slapping against hers as she came, trashing around underneath him, crying and moaning for him. Jasper pulled out of her and released himself on her behind, watching the sticky substance make its way down to her core, getting mixed up with her own arousal.

Jasper wordlessly wiped her clean, his eyes had turned back to their golden color, he kissed her sore skin rubbed it a few times ere he pulled her into his chest. “I’m sorry”, (y/n) yawned, head placed on top of his dead heart, eyes closed as she began to doze off, “it’s alright”, he kissed her forehead, admiring his mate.

#Jasper Hale #Jasper Hale imagine #Jasper Hale smut #Draco Malfoy #twilight #major jasper whitlock #twilight smut #Jackson Rathbone

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

Love & Other Drugs (Spencer Reid Imagine) Part 1

*not my gif

Summary: Toxicologist Reader meets her match in the ever intriguing Doctor Reid. Category: Fluff Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: drug addiction, love addiction, neglect Word Count: 4.1k

This is going to be a two-part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Love is an addiction.

Not only is there behavioral evidence that suggests love can be addictive, but thanks to recent studies, we also have neurochemical and neuroimaging evidence to support the theory. Multiple feel-good chemicals are released when we are in love. These include dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin.

The roots of love addiction extend back to early childhood. A history of abandonment, neglect, or inadequate/ inconsistent nurturing can lead to a love addiction. Like other addictions, a love addiction is often the result of insecure attachment patterns.

It may sound strange to equate love with addiction. After all, love is perhaps the most positive of emotions; it results in many health benefits and has life-lengthening effects. It may only be, then, that a dysfunctional relationship to love is necessary in order to consider a person "addicted."

Love is like a drug and we don't care about the long term side effects; we just care about how high we can get.

So with that being said . . . how high could I get?

A question that I would soon find the answer to following a visit from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

“I’m Agent Hotchner. We spoke on the phone briefly.”

The dark-haired man with the gentle eyes and dimples greeted. I recognized his voice, despite it being deeper in person. No complaints, though.

“So what was it you needed a toxicology report on?”

Fully expecting the same gentleman to respond, a younger man behind him cut into the conversation, answering for the agent.

“This cloth,” He dangled the evidence bag in front of my face and practically let it drop when I took it from him, rather than making sure the bag landed safely in my hands like he should’ve given the fact that this was something vital to their case. So valuable, even, they requested to have the results expedited.

“I suspect it’s chloroform, but they said we should bring it to a professional to be sure.” He finished his statement by pursing his lips into a thin, straight line, which oddly enough, I think was his version of a smile, and a not very agreeable one at that.

Simply by the way he handed me the evidence bag and the tone of his voice as he said, “professional,” like the word stung his tongue and tasted like acid, I knew he was offended that he wasn’t deemed fit to analyze the chemical on the cloth. He surely thought of himself in the highest regard and to ask for help from someone else, much less a woman, was insulting to him. I was certain that he wasn’t doing this out of his own will, but that his superior most likely assured him it was just a precaution so as not to bruise that fragile ego. I had a feeling the only person he would listen to was a male superior, most likely from the absence of a proper one. A father.

I could be a profiler, too, you know?

“Great. I’ll let you know what I find when I’m done.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I should’ve anticipated he’d have the audacity to invite himself as if this was a social gathering of some sort, which it was most certainly not. If anything, it was degrading to me that he insisted he come. Like he didn’t trust me to be on my own, like he was doubting my intelligence. I didn’t need a babysitter, chaperone, or supervisor, and I was going to make sure he knew that.

“What’s your name again?” I asked, merely as a subliminal reminder that if he had said his name, I forgot it within seconds because he was that forgettable.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.”

He didn’t ask for my name in return, and I had to ponder if it was his way of saying that he just didn’t care. How classy of him.

Two can play that game.

When he stepped foot into my beloved lab, or my lair as I liked to call it, I could feel the environment being tainted with his passive-aggressiveness, and I almost wanted to push him right back out the door so the dark cloud in the room would leave with him, but I settled for a kinder approach, politely asking if he could wear the appropriate protective gear if he insisted being so close to the chemical - the chemical I was to inspect. Again, the chemical I was to inspect - me. Not him - me.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just be right here.”

I suppose his refusal to abide by my simple precaution of wearing a coat, goggles, and gloves was made up for by his promise to maintain a distance away from me, so I didn’t push the topic any further out of fear that he might change his mind and come closer and meddle with my space. I had my own personal bubble around me and I would go feral if he invaded it, whether it was knowingly or unknowingly.

We’d spent probably two hours or so there in silence, which I quite liked, but I couldn’t help but notice how often he’d excuse himself to leave for the bathroom. I let it slide since I was too busy with my toxicology report anyway, and why would I complain about those few extra minutes of peace I got when he was away?

“This is so old fashioned,” I said in sheer awe as I inspected the small square of fabric that had clearly been doused with a euphoriant. “I haven’t seen this being used as a sedative since like the 1920s in those soundless black and white movies.”

I was too engaged with the findings of my microscope to pay attention to the “info-dump” that was brewing from the lanky doctor so it came as a shock to me when all that I had said in light of the situation would be refuted with facts.

“Actually, Chloroform was a popular anesthetic from the mid-1800s to around 1900, mostly around the time of the Civil War - not the 1920s.”

I pulled my eye away from the lens of the microscope to inspect the speaking specimen. He looked quite proud of himself for knowing and saying what he did, and for that, I was almost perturbed all the more by his bravado, but given his physical stature, I suppose the skill of his brain was how he compensated for what he lacked in appearance, so I let it pass to boost his ego.

“Yeah, I was never really a history buff. I guess that’s why I got degrees in Chemistry and Toxicology instead.” Hitting him right back with that pursed-lip smile at the end, mirroring his own.

My comment didn’t settle well, and I could tell from the way he scratched at his arm like my words were making him itchy as they seeped into his skin. But I liked to make people uncomfortable, as awful as that sounds. Yet I had a sneaking suspicion, I wasn’t the true cause for why he was itching his arm.

“But um, you . . . you were actually right about the silent films. Those were exceedingly popular in the 1920s.”

His sheepish words seemed to suggest a surrender. As if he was giving me the satisfaction of knowing I was right about something so that I might not be closed off to him entirely, which I was most certainly not, even if it seemed like it. He might have aggravated me slightly with his coldness, but he was arguably the most interesting character out of that team, and I had a feeling he didn’t usually act like this.

Antsy, fidgeting.

Unkempt in appearance.

Often lost in thought.

Depressed breathing.

Pinpoint pupils.

The signs were all there, but that wasn’t what surprised me. I was just surprised that in a team of profilers, no one else seemed to notice him and his addiction, and if they did - they just didn’t care.

“What drugs are you on?”

I asked bluntly with a slight head tilt to deepen the notion of my harmless curiosity to which he definitely misinterpreted as a harmful curiosity. I was never one to address things with subtlety and grace, but it seemed like a waste of time to approach this situation with any other attitude than candidness. If my intuition was correct, which I knew it was, he was months into his substance abuse and at this rate, if he wasn’t receiving any help, he’d need to soon.

“Excuse me?”

“I may not be a profiler, but I’m a toxicologist and I can tell when someone’s on drugs in the same way you can tell when someone’s lying - through studying their behavior. And so far, I’ve noticed that the left cuff of your shirt is unbuttoned, which makes sense considering you’re right-handed, giving you easier access and making it faster to inject whatever it is your taking, but I should warn you - you’re not fast enough. Even though your ‘visits’ to the bathroom have shortened minute by minute, I haven’t been blind to the fact that you’ve gone there at least five times since you’ve been here, and don’t even bother lying. I know you aren’t peeing because you haven’t touched that cup of coffee or the bottled water whatsoever. So let me ask you again - what drugs are you on?”

From the baffled look on his face, I could tell he had never met his match.

Not until now.

His eyes were narrowing in on me darkly, and I feared to see his “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” duality, but I was also curious if the oncoming switch in personality would reveal anything more to me about what he was using. However, that was quickly cut short by his sudden burst out of the room, giving me no opportunity to see his fit of rage unfold, and I had to believe that he knew if he stayed a second longer, I would’ve easily been able to distinguish the drug he was on. I wouldn’t put it past him, he was smart enough, that much I could admit.

I followed him with my eyes as he flew out of the lab, dodging the stupefied Agent Gideon.

“Reid?” Gideon called out to him, as if he was a dad checking on his hormonal teenager, but neither I, nor the agent, heard a response back.

Now, turning his attention back to me, Agent Gideon entered the lab, clapping his hands together and rubbing them together in anticipation, completely disregarding what happened only moments ago. It wasn’t even like he was truly uncomfortable and trying to brush it aside so that I wouldn’t be uncomfortable, it just genuinely seemed like he didn’t care. He didn’t feel the need to bring any more attention to the situation, but judging from his reaction, I had doubts on if there had been any attention being paid to the doctor’s drug addiction - ever.

“So, what do you got for me?”

“Two things - first, this is clearly Deuterated Chloroform, which is an isotopologue of Chloroform with a single deuterium atom. CDCl 3 is a common solvent used in NMR spectroscopy-” I paused when I realized my toxicology jargon was flying right over his head. “So in other words, this type of Chloroform can daze or knock out people even when it's consumed in small doses.”

“And the second thing?”

Without missing a beat, I asked, “What’s up with that guy?”

His hands unfolded to reach out on either side of him in a shrug as a sign of incomprehensiveness. “Spencer?” He finally pointed with his thumb to the door, which Dr. Reid had just stormed out of.

I nodded.

“Ehh, I prefer to leave it alone.” He threw his hands up in surrender, but I wasn’t about to let him maintain his attitude of ignorance.

“Why? Isn’t it better if he talks about it? I mean, it’s obvious there’s something going on. He’s clearly displaying habits of an addict.”

The room was shot dead with silence. I could tell he couldn’t believe I’d just said that so bluntly, addressing what I assumed he had yet to even come to terms with.

“Agent Gideon, I mean this as no insult to you, but I’d surely hope that, even as someone that analyzes behavior for a living, you were sincerely unaware of his addiction and not deliberately avoiding addressing it only because it makes you uncomfortable. Addiction is a very common thing, more common that people would like to believe, and I would hate for Dr. Reid to feel that he’s alone in a room full of people that could help him - that should help him. Or that he can’t turn to any of you without being treated like he's a victim in one of your cases.”

I wasn’t exactly sure which of my words was the one that crossed the line, but I knew, as a whole, I ventured far beyond the boundary. He didn’t even answer me verbally, but his body language did the talking, and if I heard it correctly, he was dumbfounded by my audacity.

“You have a good day, Miss.” He finally said with a forced smile, while snatching the evidence bag from my hand.

Amicably, I had to let it go the minute Agent Gideon left my lab. I shouldn’t care more about the doctor’s wellbeing than his own coworkers, than his own team - than his own family. And even though I was incredibly passionate about proper drug use, I couldn’t be too invested in the care of Dr. Reid. At least not until he started caring about me, too.

After my minor back-to-back confrontations, I was more than ready to go home. Once I cleaned my station and removed my gear, I was out the door. When I got to the parking lot, I saw that on either side of my car, there were two black SUVs I’d never seen here before. The government license plates were all that I needed to see to come to the conclusion that they belonged to the BAU. Having just instigated something with both Spencer and Agent Gideon, I knew I had to leave before they did, otherwise I might risk running into them, which would’ve been utterly humiliating.

It was the sudden chirp of familiar voices that caused me to bolt into my car and try and start it, but naturally, buried somewhere within the Bermuda Triangle that was my purse were my keys, and I couldn’t find them in time.

“Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.” I faintly heard from behind me.

Keys! Keys! Keys! Where are you?

With animalistic speed, I rummaged through my purse, literally starving for the feeling of my fingers touching the jagged metal and the remote of my keys before I’d have to -

“Looking for these?”

I tore my eyes away from my purse to peer up at the sound of my jingling keys as they hung from the index finger of the man I shouldn’t care about. I wryly chuckled, taking them with a goony smile when he handed them to me with much more caution than earlier when he handed me the evidence bag.

“I saw you left them behind in the lab and I figured you might need those. Especially if you’re trying to run away from me.”

“I’m not trying to run away from you.”

My words were unaffecting, only leaving him with more reason to doubt me, evidenced by his deadpan stare.

“Really! I wasn’t!” It was beyond me why I thought speaking more loudly would make him digest my words any better, but at any rate, it did.

“Okay, okay, relax. I believe you.”

We shared a brief laugh, the euphoria of which was fleeting, and then, we were right back to where we were before. Back to square one - not knowing what to say. The uncomfortable silence pressed me to leave, but he must’ve registered my sudden movement as a tell that he needed to say something so captivating, so shocking, so bewitching, that would stop me from leaving.

“Thank you.”

To say that I was baffled would be a gross understatement. I was in complete awe and disbelief. Hearing those words from his lips was enough to stun me, but even more so because of how sincere it sounded.

“I was going to come back and apologize when I overheard you and Gideon talking about me. You left before I got the chance to thank you for what you said back there. So . . . thank you.”

And yet again, he thanked me, and surprisingly, it wasn’t any less pleasing to the ear.

“Yeah, of course. I was just worried about you that’s all.” Unknowingly, I revealed too much out of the blinding bliss of the moment.

“You were worried about me?”

His own question brought me to the realization of what I’d just said, and in his tone of voice, I also became aware of the connotation behind it. He already knew the answer and just wanted to hear me say it again, so I nudged him playfully to avoid reciting my confession.

“Actually, I take that back. Why should I worry over someone who didn’t even bother to know my name?”

He looked quite offended; his neck recoiled in distaste.

“I know your name.”

“You didn’t ask me for it.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know it, (y/n).” Drawing out my name just to demonstrate his honest knowledge of it.

“Actually, it’s Doctor.” I corrected, earning a hearty laugh from him, one that made him throw his head back with an open mouthed smile.

In my playful jest, he was reminded of himself and his own uncannily similar humor. He could see himself in me. (Mind you, this distinction was completely unknown to me). It was only he that could see we were foils of each other - parallel lines that ran side by side, never fated to intersect but forging a connection in spite of that; a connection formed on the basis of close proximity and congruence in shape.

“Anyway, thanks for bringing my keys. I’ll see you later.”

Our goodbye was too quick, I knew that, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, keep talking to him and avoid bringing up the conversation of his addiction. I wasn’t nuanced like that. I was too eager to solve problems head on to keep my determination at bay. I couldn’t dance around the very thing that was killing him slowly. I just couldn’t. Had I drawn out our conversation any longer, I’d sooner touch that tender wound he restlessly picked at; a wound that might never properly or fully heal if he kept doing so. I knew he was too stubborn to let me clean it, so in favor of his pride, he insisted he could fix it himself and simply put a band-aid on it in an attempt to do just that, foolishly thinking it would be enough. However, like a real gash, tear, or cut, it may only be worsened by the lack of adequate disinfection. He could just as easily reap the benefits as he could suffer the consequences of the absence of a proper enabling agent that stings badly, but successfully targets the root of the problem. The choice was up to him. Would he suffer the consequences or reap the benefits? To be quite frank, there’s no way around that disinfectant. It’s that or nothing, and I found myself to be the confrontation to the problem that he lacked. So now that I’d addressed it, it was up to him to decide what to do. I had done all that I could, and I had to accept that.

Maybe a minute more of talking to him and I might’ve even seen that connection he was seeing. I assure you, a few more soulful glances was all it would take to kill me in cold blood. If you could get intoxicated on someone’s eyes, I’d be drunk on his. I saw worlds behind them - raging waters of words unspoken bursting from overflowing dams, calm seas of his thank you’s, maybe even lazy rivers of useless stored information and memorized book passages I could dawdle in forever. An overwhelming guilt consumed me when I realized I’d only been staring at them for as long as I had to probe further and satisfy my own selfish desires. I felt all the worse for the unsuspecting object of my gaze who was led to the hopeful, naive notion that I was looking at him out of admiration. He had no clue what I was really doing.

I was profiling him.

Earlier in the day, I would’ve gloated about my ability to use his own job against him by employing the skill of profiling, but now, it was different. He was different. The guilt was escalating quickly and I made haste to get in my car, not even waiting to catch his reply to my sudden goodbye before I shut the door. If I had to assume, he must’ve said something in agreement because the minute I turned on my ignition, he stepped out of the way, letting me leave with no protests. Quite haphazardly, I drove out of my parking spot, reducing him to just a blurry figure in my rear view mirror that would haunt my dreams at night and occupy my thoughts in the day. Consider it merely a precaution to part from him so promptly. I needed my distance before I did something we both would have regretted.

Before I started to love him.

. . .

“Positive for Alprazolam. Positive for Carboxy-THC,” I mumbled to myself while I jotted down the results of my preliminary toxicology report. You’d often find me in this state and by that I mean, it’s been more than one occasion where someone walked in on me talking to myself. I found that it was easier to make note of things when I spoke it out loud, even if just to myself in a hushed tone. “Negative for -”

“Am I interrupting you?”

I pulled my eye away from the lens and upwards to the voice beckoning me at the door. To my surprise, it was Spencer.

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

As he made his way to my station, I instinctively shot up in my seat to fix my posture into one more ladylike and graceful, pulling my shoulders back as if there was a string tugging at them. It was a stark contrast to my previous hunched over position that rounded my back out almost to the point of looking like a half-circle. It was the most natural position for me, and arguably more comfortable, too, but now in Spencer’s presence, I wanted to assume a more flattering position. For what reason? I didn’t know.

“I, um . . .” He cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt frantically. “I’m going to see a film tonight in Sky Meadows State Park. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

It was easy to meet his eyes until he said what he did. Reflexively, I looked down at my microscope to shy away from his gaze so he might not see the color forming on my cheeks.

“That’s really sweet of you,” I began. “But I should probably get this report done first.”

I wouldn’t have noticed I was tapping my pen on my paper anxiously had it not been for Spencer’s eyes drifting to the motion. After consciously stopping it, he looked back at me, seeing that similarity again.

I was just as nervous as he was.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Next time, then.”

My heart sank at the visceral blow to his ego. I didn’t intend to shatter his confidence, but by the time he turned on his heels with his hands sheepishly shoved into his pockets, I knew it was not the first time someone declined an offer of his.

“Actually,” One word was enough to draw him in. “I can finish this up another time. I’d much rather catch that movie with you instead.”

I wish I could tell you that my intentions were pure. That I was going because I knew I would enjoy his company and he would enjoy mine, but that wasn’t it at all. It was that familiar itch again that made my ‘yes’ easier to say.

The itch to dig deeper and to know more.

“Great. I’ll wait outside for you.”

The rational part of me knew that if I couldn’t let his addiction go, it’d be the death of me. But if I did, it’d be the death of him. Literally.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

PART 2 HERE!

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #soft angst #love & other drugs

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bbugyu · 4 years

Text

finding something to do + kim mingyu

you had spent your better years bored with mingyu, and he thought holding your hand felt like holding his fleeting youth.

wc.4088 | almost smut, mostly fluff, friends to lovers/uni au, fem reader, that one trope where there is mutual pining but both of them think the other is gay, maybe like half an ounce of angst if you squint Really Hard, lots o swears

i usually make my fics hella neutral as far as gender and size and orientation goes but hahahaha this ones for the average sized bi girls! also just realized that i stopped using capitalization in my fics and yk what? im fine with it. this fic is based off of the song of the same name by hellogoodbye.

“stop honking, other people live here.”

mingyu grinned at you through the half-open passenger window, leaning over to pop open the door. the handle had never recovered from a giant cup of soda crashing into the side of his ride in the middle of a particularly rowdy summer shenanigan, the sticky substance soaking into the mechanics before he had gotten the chance to hose it down in a friend's driveway at 2am. now, you had to wait for him to open it from the inside on all future shenanigans, and you could only roll the window down half way, lest you have to laugh at mingyu aggressively pulling on the window between his palms as you pulled on the motorized switch to coerce it back into the closed position. you slid into the co-pilot seat and looked over to your best friend.

"if you answered your texts i wouldn't have to honk."

you rolled your eyes, tugging on the seatbelt. "go, gyu."

he laughed and shifted into drive, turning up his stereo as he pulled away from your apartment building, hand returning to the stick to shift up a gear. "thanks for coming."

"what else was i gonna do?" you slipped the slides off your socked feet and pulled your legs to sit cross-legged. "i finished rewatching avatar."

"study, maybe?"

you looked at him. he was right, finals were right around the corner, but you had an uncharacteristically light load this quarter (due to you not realizing you needed approval for one course before registration and it filling before you could sign up) and you weren't too worried about the three tests you would have to take in a couple weeks. "could say the same to you."

mingyu let out another laugh, suddenly singing along to the song as he ran a hand through his hair. you smiled at his profile, then pulled out your phone to update your instagram story. as you moved the camera over to mingyu from the streetlight-lit road ahead of you, he laughed midway through a lyric and practically yelled "mwoya" at you, gripping the wheel with both hands and jumping in his seat.

you laughed hysterically, frantically saving the video before pointing the screen at him. he turned down the music to watch it, eyes flickering between your phone and the road. he laughed at the way it cut off on both of you screaming. "what was that?"

you giggled, swiping through filters. "you being dumb."

"you love me."

"you're right."

mingyu smiled at that, adjusting the stereo volume again, bobbing his head to the rhythm as he drove to the one convenience store in your town that sold his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream, a mission he had called upon you for at 11:30pm. when it switched over to a song you knew, mingyu noticed your subconscious humming to the tune and a few lyrics falling out of your lips, the wind from the open window whipping through your hair.

by the time you reached a small parking lot across town, you had yawned probably half a dozen times.

"tired?" mingyu pouted as he rolled up the windows and unbuckled his seatbelt. "sorry for dragging you out."

you shook your head, following suit and pulling yourself out of the car. "i slept too late, i think. i'll be fine."

you followed mingyu across the quiet street to the convenience store the two of you frequented perhaps too often, finding yourself there after late night study sessions or mid-barhop for ramen, snacks, and most importantly, the mint choco ice cream bar of mingyu's affections.

after perusing the options as if you hadn't been there earlier in the week, you picked out an ice cream bar as well as a couple bags of chips. you walked up behind mingyu at the register as he was pulling out his wallet.

"i'll pay if you come over and play smash," he said, nodding at your hands full of snacks.

you eyed him. "what's the catch?"

"you can't be mad when i play meta knight."

you groaned, but put your things on the counter for the cashier that was likely the same age as you both to scan. "fine. i'll still beat you."

mingyu grinned at you, and you snagged your ice cream bar off the counter as he paid, the other snacks getting put in a plastic bag. you grabbed the bag and held it open as mingyu retrieved his own ice cream, both of you peeling them open as you exited the convenience store.

"mm," you let out, mouth full of ice cream as you leaned against the metal bar meant to lock up bikes on the sidewalk. "it's nice out tonight."

mingyu agreed, biting into his treat. "it's refreshing but not too cold."

you nodded, watching cars pass on the street. "i can't believe it's almost summer already."

"me neither," he said, squatting in front of you as he ate. "we're gonna be seniors next year."

you groaned. "have you decided if you're doing summer quarter?"

he shook his head. "i decided against it. i only really have to take one extra course next year so it didn't feel worth it."

you nodded, looking down at him. he was looking to his left, absentmindedly watching someone walk their dog across the street.

after the ice cream was finished and you threw away your wrappers, mingyu cursed slightly at the fact that he still managed to get his finger sticky despite doing his best to avoid meltage. after he popped open your door, he dug in the glovebox for some wet naps, playfully knocking your knees aside as you tried to sit. you laughed, waiting for him to be done so you could put the bag of snacks on the floor in front of you.

when you met mingyu sophomore year, your hair was shorter and he was blonde. he had sat next to you in your shared ecology lab and promptly fell asleep before the class had even started, and you had to nudge him awake when the professor was handing out the syllabus.

"gah, fuck, i'm up," he waved a massive hand in your face, blinking away his sleep before focusing on you with furrowed brows. "you're not seokmin."

seokmin was his roommate, you learned, and also met a few weeks later when you went over to their dorm to work on assignments together. they've since upgraded to a compact but efficient three bedroom apartment and acquired another roommate. you stared out the window into the night sky as mingyu drove to said apartment, blinking heavily at the lure of a nap. you pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to listen to the song playing from the stereo.

only moments later, mingyu glanced over and noticed that your eyes had fluttered shut, your head lolling against the window. he wondered, staring at you in awe, how much longer he could pretend he wasn't in love with you.

when you and mingyu had first gotten to know each other, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, until you found out he had a boyfriend. even after they split almost four months later, and you had been there to bring him chicken and beer while he fumbled with the drawstrings of his sweatpants and rubbed his swollen eyes with the back of his hand, you decidedly resigned any feelings for him, knowing it was a lost cause for you to pine after a guy that didn't even like girls. hell, you barely even liked boys - you had gone on dates with six different girls, yet not a single guy since you came to university, and mingyu had sat on your bed while you tried to get ready, giving a concise "try again" when you showed him an oversized sweatshirt.

"why not this?" you asked, groaning.

"you have good proportions, bitch. show 'em off."

rolling your eyes, you rooted around in your closet for something less shapeless. your style had always skewed a little athletic, a little hip-hop. you bought mostly mens fit shirts, making the task slightly more difficult. you found a nice pair of high waisted jeans you hadn't worn in a while and paired it with a drop shoulder tee and a turtleneck, finally getting the approval of your best friend.

all of the facts laid in front of him led mingyu to believe you were completely and utterly gay, and even if you weren't, your taste in women suggested he was the exact opposite of your type. you liked petite girls. girls with long hair and that wore skirts and lots of rings. the kind of girls that you had to lean down to kiss.

so he continued to try out the pool of eligible bachelors in your area that were within a respectable age range. he had even tried to date some girls, but every time they tried to suggest the dates go further, he would think of the way his best friend's fingers had sent electricity through his entire body just by brushing an eyelash off his lip, or how you would trace the veins that ran through his wrist as you watched a movie together on your couch. the way your touch set his skin on fire. the way he wished he could just admit the way he felt about you.

he always smiled and said he'd call them sometime. he never did. it wasn't fair to them, but neither was him only ever asking them out because they reminded him of you somehow.

guys were easier, he thought. they didn't remind him of you.

mingyu was so caught up in the sight of you sleeping that he absolutely ran a red. he cursed under his breath when he realized the light he was passing under had been yellow for longer than he had thought, thinking how lucky he was that the cross street was empty. good thing he was almost home.

"hey, sleepyhead," he said when you stretched suddenly as he pulled into his parking spot. "do you wanna go home?"

you shook your head, yawning. "no, i need to eat chips."

he laughed and killed the engine. "you left a pair of house shorts here and you can borrow a shirt," he said, suggesting you crash in his bed when you got too tired for smash.

"what, you don't wanna carry me home?"

mingyu slammed the car door shut and shoved his hand in his pocket. "i'd rather not, no."

you stretched again, a hand reaching out to ruffle his dark hair as he tried to punch in the door code for you to enter his building. "mean."

he laughed at you again, leading you up the three flights of stairs to his apartment.

"hey, minghao," you said, waving at the shadowy figure that was seemingly melting into the couch, illuminated by the tv.

he raised a hand in acknowledgment, sitting with his neck at a 90 degree angle, a movie with subtitles on, and his phone face down on his chest. "yo."

"wanna play smash?" mingyu asked.

"no thanks."

mingyu dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. "we're playing smash."

"you're funny."

you laughed, and mingyu pouted. "please, myungho?"

minghao finally looked at his roommate. "i'm watching annihilation. the switch is handheld for a reason."

you watched mingyu roll his eyes with a smirk on your lips. he went over to the switch dock by the tv and grabbed the console, sticking his tongue out at hao. you giggled, following mingyu down the short hall to his room as minghao waved you both off.

"have i said that i like hao a lot?"

"yes," mingyu said. "like, every time you come over."

you smiled, throwing open his dresser and carding through the shirts that would surely be massive on you. "well i do."

the switch got tossed onto his bed and he sneaked around you to grab a pair of sweatpants from the drawer above the one you were looking in. he also pulled out the pair of shorts you had left, putting them on top of the dresser. "i'm getting naked now."

you shook your head lightly, knowing he was only changing his pants, but kept your back to him out of respect anyways. you picked up the shorts. "did you wash these?"

"yeah, i threw 'em in with my laundry last week."

you nodded, spotting the color you had been looking for. "aha!" you pulled on the ashy gray shirt, revealing one of your favorite things you had ever convinced mingyu to buy. an extremely soft, lightly distressed shirt with a tasteful rip along the neckline. "i'm getting naked now."

"clear," mingyu said, letting you know he wasn't looking as he flopped onto his bed, propping up the switch on his bedside table and setting up the controllers.

you pulled off your loose sweatshirt and swapped it for the borrowed shirt, then shoved the denim shorts down your legs, laughing lightly at how your sleep shorts completely disappeared under the shirt. you turned around, stretching out your arms to show how large the shirt was on you. "look."

mingyu rolled onto his back and propped himself on an elbow to look at you, giggling as you swam in his shirt. outwardly, he smiled, but internally, he thought this was simultaneously the worst and best idea he had ever had.

you looked absolutely stunning in his clothes, he thought, but only said that you were cute. he ignored the familiar feeling in his stomach and handed you a controller as you crawled onto his bed, settling on your stomach next to him.

he had to stop putting himself in this position. you were far too pretty for him to forget his feelings towards you.

but maybe that's what he wanted. maybe he didn't want to forget his feelings. maybe the few times you had told him his dates were attractive weren't just objective reassurances. maybe he held onto the sliver of hope that you could possibly be attracted to him, too.

you slammed your face into the bed as the game loaded. "why are all switch load times utter ass?"

mingyu adjusted so that he was laying on his side with an arm propping him up and flicked the back of your head. "because the console can fit in my palm."

your hand went up to swat at the culprit of the flick, and you pouted as you lifted your head to look at him. "that's not fair, your hands are huge." you wiggled onto your elbows to grab his wrist, pressing your palms together. "see?"

mingyu laughed, feeling his cheeks heat up. "well, you have baby hands, so." he punctuated his point by curling his finger over yours. you pouted again, then slipped your fingers between his, thinking about how nice his warm hand felt over yours.

you blinked, then pulled your hand away and grabbed the joycon as the game finally loaded the skippable intro, hoping you weren't blushing too much as you cleared your throat. mingyu stared at your pink cheeks for a moment, his mind reeling. was he seeing something that wasn't there? or was his hope in you validated?

you were clicking through the menu and felt his eyes on you, and all you wanted to do was hide behind your hair and avoid eye contact. you nearly jumped when mingyu cleared his throat.

"hey, i have something i've been meaning to ask you."

your eyes met his briefly. "shoot."

"do you…" mingyu paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase his question. "i know you have exes that are guys, but is that something you're, like… still into?"

your ears burned and you wiggled until you could sit back on your own legs, fiddling with the hem of the shirt you stole and hesitating to make eye contact. "you mean, being with guys?"

"yeah," he said, watching you intently with his brows furrowed.

"yeah, i mean, i guess?" you shrugged. "i like both."

mingyu nodded slowly, watching your eyes as they stared at the wall across his small room. your cheeks were a rosy pink, and you were chewing on your lip. "me too."

you looked at him finally, your eyes wide. "what?"

he gave you a crooked smile. "i like guys and girls, too."

if you were blushing before, now you were blazing. "oh, my god, i'm an idiot."

he laughed. "what, did you think i was, like, totally gay?"

"shut up," you threw yourself down onto his bed, hiding your face in the blanket. in your defense, he had definitely called himself gay before, but you definitely called yourself gay constantly, so maybe you shouldn't put so much weight in those words. "shut up, i'm embarrassed. i don't want to talk about it."

hearing mingyu laugh next to you made you feel like you were on fire, then you felt the ghosting of fingers on your arm. you froze. mingyu's voice was soft when he spoke again. "do you wanna talk about how i have a massive crush on you?"

you slowly raised your head to look at him, cheeks burning red. he gave you a small smile before you choked out a "huh?"

"i ran a red earlier," he said suddenly, his fingers moving from your arm to absentmindedly brush your hair out of your face, then to your shoulder, then back. it was a reassuring touch, one you had felt from him before, but you still were caught off guard by his sudden succession of confessions. "you were sleeping and i couldn't stop looking at you. i totally could have crashed the car."

"dude, what the fuck." you stared at him, then lowered your voice to imitate him. "'hey i have a crush on you and i almost killed us both because of it.' that's you, that's what you sound like right now."

mingyu laughed in your face and you couldn't help the chuckle that fell out of your mouth. "sorry i almost killed us."

"i guess i can forgive you," you said, picking at your nails suddenly despite them being clean. "especially because i might have a crush on you, too."

mingyu kept staring at you with a fond smile, and you wondered if he could also hear how hard your heart was beating. "can i kiss you?"

you looked at him, trying not to stare at his lips. you nodded, almost hurriedly. his hand pulled against your back as you rolled your body to face him, and your hand reached out for his jaw as he pulled you into him. and when his lips crashed into yours, you yelped slightly, melting into him almost immediately. they were plush against yours, and he was gentle as he pushed your back onto the mattress, adjusting to hover over you slightly. when you let your head fall back onto the bed, he grinned at your blown out pupils and swollen lips, buzzing at the way your hands curled around around his neck, fingers digging into the hair at his nape. he adjusted again, a hand finding your waist as he pulled back to let you swing your leg across his lap. you pulled him back over you, enjoying the way his hips hit the back of your thighs as he caged you in with an elbow by your shoulder. you stared up at him, heart racing, eyes flicking down to his lips too many times for him to not take the hint.

mingyu had always enjoyed pleasing you. this definitely felt like the next natural progression.

he dove into you, and your arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders. mingyu was a hugger, and he also liked wearing very little clothing when he worked out, so you knew what he looked like under the plain white tee. knew what he felt like. but suddenly - with his hands slipping under what was technically his shirt to properly feel your waist, with how his tongue fought with yours - you really felt him for the first time. the way his shoulder muscles rippled just beneath the skin as he adjusted, clearly trying to not make his growing bulge so obvious. you considered the fact that you might get to see how much leg day really benefited, considering how much he posted about it with sweaty post-workout pictures on his story.

mingyu felt your thighs squeeze around his hips, pulling back slightly. "is this okay?"

"is it?" you responded, a hand pulling back to fall on his jaw. "i've wanted you for ages."

he laughed lightly. "god, we're idiots."

you had no time to respond before he was kissing you again, his hips rolling into yours, pulling a surprised moan from you. he ate it up, his fingers gripping your waist tighter at the sound. you felt his girth as it pressed against you, and you gasped. when was the last time you had been with a guy? high school?

when mingyu's teeth bit down on your lip, you were really glad he was the guy you were unconsciously waiting for.

he tugged on your hips as he rolled onto his back, pulling you to straddle his lap. you giggled slightly, settling back into the open mouthed kisses as he ran his hands from your ass up your back, slipping under the sports bra you were wearing.

then there was a knock. you yelped, burying your face in his shoulder as you heard the door swing open. "make room for king k r- oh shit!"

you laughed into mingyu's neck as he yelled for seokmin to get the hell out, his hands tugging the hem of the stolen shirt over your butt in an attempt to shield it from view. you heard him squeak out an "i'm sorry!" as the door shut again.

"i'll kill him."

you exhaled, the laughter still on your lips as you looked at his profile from where your cheek pressed against his shoulder. "bet he thinks we're secretly dating."

mingyu laughed, scratching an eyebrow before returning his palm to your ass. "not a secret now."

"oh, so we're dating now?"

mingyu craned his neck to look at you. "is that not what was going to happen?"

you giggled, sitting up and putting your hands on his chest. you adjusted your knees, fully aware of how the movement would rub you against his still hard bulge. "we have both fucked people without dating them afterwards, kim mingyu."

"ah," he said, digging his fingers into your soft ass and rutting into you gently, making you gasp. "we're gonna fuck? i thought we were just joking."

you slapped his chest, giggling still as you rolled your hips. "if you don't wanna, i could ask hao-"

"oh, shut up," he said, pulling you down to kiss him. "if you liked myungho like that you would have tried it ages ago."

you smiled, your thumb running over his adams apple as you placed gentle kisses on his jaw. "sweetie, are we jealous?"

"i don't deserve this, you know?" mingyu pulled your hips against him again, a low grunt tumbling from his beautiful mouth. "i haven't put my dick in a girl since i met you and now i'm with you and you're talking about my roommate? this seems extremely mean."

you giggled again, then placed your lips on his again. he instantly kissed you back, one hand leaving your ass to go to the back of your neck. "you're the only guy i ever think about," you whispered, getting repeatedly interrupted by mingyu's needy lips on yours.

the wolf-like grin that broke onto his face sent chills down your spine. "let's keep it that way."

seokmin's hand was still on the doorknob, his wide eyes blinking, when minghao paused his movie and sat up to poke his head out and look down the hall. "the hell was that?"

he puffed out his cheeks as he walked back into the living room, his palms clapping gently. "i thought you said y/n came over to play smash?"

minghao's eyebrow quirked up. "she did."

the eldest sat on the couch. "i thought mingyu was gay?"

"what?" minghao looked down the hall again. "wait, what? were they-" he stopped when he heard a muffled groan that was far too familiar.

seokmin grabbed the remote and pressed play, scratching his cheek as he turned up the volume. "what are we watching? catch me up."

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