#i stopped writing my fluff to ask bc i had an initial answer then i kept thinking... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shuaflix · 3 years ago

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roommates with benefits

❝ y/n, you can’t keep staying here. you’ve been living in my room for like, two weeks now. you don’t even pay rent. ❞

PAIRING ▸ jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, humor, college au, roommate au, frat au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, shy!wonwoo, he’s a bit of an overthinker too, classic “share a bed” trope, sort of friends with benefits, unprotected sex, fingering, praise

SUMMARY ▸ initially, wonwoo doesn’t think much about your incessant requests to play on his xbox. however, when what was supposed to be a two-hour visit to his place stretches out for two weeks, he starts to think you’re overstaying your welcome.

PLAYLIST ▸ seventeen by girls generation • in my dreams by red velvet

WORD COUNT ▸ 6,467 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ here’s me impulsively writing another short lil fic in 1-2 days because the wonwoo brainrot’s been hitting me :’) tbh just wrote this bc i’ve been obsessed with omori LOL but hope u guys enjoy !! ♡��

ON A FRIDAY AFTERNOON, JEON WONWOO FOUND HIMSELF BEING INTERROGATED BY YOU.

“Wonwoo! You have the Xbox Game Pass?”

He was taken aback by your question. Minutes ago, he was diligently studying in the library with Kwon Soonyoung when you approached him. Lee Chan was following after you with an exasperated look on his face, sending Wonwoo silent, apologetic looks. Your face, on the other hand, looked like a collision of supernovas with the intensity of the sparkle in your eyes.

For a moment, Wonwoo wondered if you had picked up some new interest in broadcasting. There had to be a mic clipped to your shirt. If his vision wasn’t so shitty, maybe he could spot the hidden camera focusing on him.

“Uh…” He sat up straighter and nodded. (He was camera-shy—and people-shy, but that was beside the point.) “Yeah, I do. Why?”

You beamed. “Can I come over and play on your Xbox?”

Wonwoo frowned, his nose scrunching up in distaste. He had known you sort of well over the past three years of his college experience, but it was mostly because you were good friends with Chan and Kim Mingyu. He always saw you hanging out with them at the Lambda Tau Upsilon house, usually when they were cleaning up during the mornings after parties. That was the sole basis of his connection with you—small talk here and there at his frat house.

He had no idea why you were taking an interest in him all of a sudden. Well, to be fair, he supposed you were more interested in his Xbox.

Maybe this was some dare that Yoon Jeonghan set you up to. Get close to him, get in his room, and find out how much of a nerd he is. Yeah, that was something Jeonghan was capable of doing. There was a reason why Choi Seungcheol chose Joshua Hong to be his Vice President of Internal Affairs instead of Jeonghan.

But Wonwoo had three sets of eyes staring him down, so he knew he had to answer you fast.

“Uh, sure?”

“Great! Thank you!” you exclaimed, looking way too excited for Wonwoo to feel at ease. “We have the same o-chem lab, right? If you don’t have any classes after, I’ll just come home with you.”

Before Wonwoo could hesitantly agree, Soonyoung asked, “Why do you want his Xbox, Y/N? You gonna break that too?”

The teasing inflection in his tone reminded Wonwoo of when you were drunk at their house a few weeks ago. Mingyu kept pouring more into your cup until you were falling all over the place. It was only after you fell onto the kitchen table, causing one of the legs to snap off, when Xu Minghao took you upstairs to sober up. (It was just so that he could contain you and keep you from damaging more of their property.)

You looked embarrassed, a hand flying to rub the back of your neck. “You guys won’t let me live that down, huh? I’m not getting wasted like that again, I swear,” you promised. “Anyway, I wanna play Omori, but I don’t wanna buy the game.”

“She’s been talking about it non-stop ever since her favorite YouTuber played it,” Chan grumbled. “I think I know more about that stupid game than I do about fluid mechanics right now.”

Wonwoo raised a brow. “Isn’t your midterm in twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, which is why I want Y/N to hurry up so that I can get some cramming in,” he sneered.

You threw Chan a glance over your shoulder. “Jeez, it’s not my fault you didn’t study earlier.”

“C’mon, Y/N, leave Wonwoo alone and buy the game yourself,” Soonyoung teased. “Support your local game developers or whatever.”

“And I’m sure they would want to support local broke college students,” she replied before pointing at Wonwoo. “After o-chem?”

Wonwoo just nodded in response, leaving you grinning before you walked off with Chan. He shook his head after you dropped the conversation, wondering if that entire encounter was even real. Judging by Soonyoung’s tutting, though, it very much was.

“On the bright side,” his friend started, “we can finally tell the guys you have a real girl over.”

“Shut up, Soonyoung.”

Wonwoo didn’t sit anywhere near you in his organic chemistry class. In fact, he was pretty sure he only noticed you were in the class about a month in.

Today, however, you walked right over and sat at his table. Right next to him. Knees bumping against each other every now and then. Wonwoo wasn’t very good with girls, and he especially didn’t know how to handle the ones as forward as you were. It wasn’t the closeness that freaked him out, but the fact that you were so confident about your every action and word.

“Hey,” he greeted awkwardly. “You usually sit on the other side, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I’m gracing you with my presence since you’re letting me play on your Xbox,” you replied with a grin. “I still need to figure out a way to pay you back. Want me to get you lunch sometime or something?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to pay me back or anything. It’s free on my game pass anyway.”

You hummed in agreement, turning away to pay attention to the lecture afterward. Wonwoo did the same, though he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he didn’t answer correctly. It was like he was playing an otome game and choosing all the incorrect options.

After class, he told you he would be back as soon as he returned a textbook to the library. There, he ran into Lee Seokmin, who was practically living out in the study hub because he went inactive in the frat this semester due to poor grades. Wonwoo ended up explaining the situation he was in, from you asking to go over to his place to asking if you could get him lunch to pay him back.

“Isn’t she just hitting on you?” Seokmin asked in that innocent, questioning tone of his.

Jeon Wonwoo realized he was an idiot.

Wonwoo’s room wasn’t incredibly huge or anything, but he had a good amount of space for a bed, a desk, a couch, and his flat-screen TV that one of the alumni fraternity members let him have for free.

So, while he was working on a paper at his desk, he had a clear view of you buzzing with excitement with the Xbox controller in your hand.

“Hey, Woo, wanna watch me play?” you called from the couch.

He stiffened at the nickname. Despite his reaction, a surprisingly pleasant feeling spread across his chest, making him feel all warm and gushy. He normally wasn’t called by a nickname (save for Mingyu’s flirty comments when he was drunk), so he felt a little flustered.

“Uh, I have work to do right now,” he said. “Maybe in an hour or so?”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Wonwoo wasn’t able to focus, though. Seokmin’s words were getting to his head, making his brain feel all muddled and fuzzy. Were you really trying to hit on him earlier? And was he supposed to take you up on the offer? He actually felt bad for making you “repay” him when he was letting you have access to his free games. That was the whole reason why he turned you down.

And… deep, deep down, he could admit to himself that you were cute. The fact that someone like you (confident, desired, pretty) was flirting with someone like him (shy, awkward, stiff) was rather amazing, really.

Wonwoo tried to tune you out, which was pretty easy to do considering you were a pretty quiet gamer (save for the few giggles here and there). However, he was so immersed in writing his essay that several hours slipped by without him realizing. Before he knew it, it was almost 8 P.M. and you were still in the same position, eyes fixed on the screen.

It was kind of cute how focused you were, so Wonwoo didn’t want to disturb your gaming. However, it was getting late and he didn’t want to be sending you home in the dark.

“Hey, uh… do you need to get home soon?” he asked.

You hardly spared him a glance. “Nah, it’s okay.”

Wonwoo wondered if you knew how to pick up on cues.

“I’m gonna order take-out for dinner,” he said, realizing that he hadn’t eaten and didn’t exactly want to go downstairs and let his frat brothers know that you were in his room. “You want anything?”

At the mention of food, you set the controller down and turned to him, eyes sparkling under the dim light. “What’re you getting?”

“Panda Express,” he answered. “I’m craving orange chicken.”

“Ooh, get me a bowl,” you said. “I’ll Venmo you the money.”

To his surprise, you sent him the money before he was even able to order. Wonwoo recalled late nights when you and Chan were studying at the dining table with Panda Express take-out bags next to your laptops. You must have had your regular order completely memorized.

“Hey, uh,” he started, “it’s getting dark, and I don’t really feel comfortable sending you home alone so… do you want a ride or something?”

The nervous flash across your face almost went by undetected.

Almost.

“That’s okay,” you said. “I can go by myself.”

“You are not going alone,” Wonwoo decided firmly, taking on a more domineering aura from before. He wasn’t one to be forceful, but there was no way he would let you walk alone this late at night, especially in Frat Row. He let out a soft sigh. “If anything, you can crash here for the night, but I’m not letting you go alone unless you get someone to take you.”

He could see you fighting down a giggle, and it made Wonwoo feel even more embarrassed by his words.

“Yes, sir,” you replied sarcastically, enjoying how the tips of Wonwoo’s ears turned red. He half-expected you to call for Mingyu or Chan, but instead you made yourself comfortable where you were seated. “I’ll sleep on the couch, then.”

He paused. “Sure.”

You were sleeping in Wonwoo’s room tonight.

You were sleeping in certified loser Jeon Wonwoo’s room tonight.

He was mentally freaking out.

Was this supposed to be a normal thing? Was he supposed to act cool about this? Wonwoo was clueless on the protocol for these sorts of situations. He barely had girls over in his room let alone had them sleep in them. This didn’t feel reflective of the gentlemanly image he had been upholding for years now.

He could practically hear the teasing he’d get from the other boys if they found out. Jeonghan and Minghao were early birds, so it would be impossible to avoid them in the morning. Minghao would probably let it go eventually, save for a few teases here and there. Jeonghan, on the other hand, would make it everyone’s business.

So, in short, Wonwoo was royally screwed.

The least he could do now was be hospitable, and making you sleep on the couch didn’t seem hospitable at all. His couch wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly made to be slept on. He remembered when Vernon Chwe crashed on his couch after a party one night (Seungkwan and Soonyoung were passed out on his bed), and the poor guy woke up with a neck sprain the next morning.

“Let me take the couch,” Wonwoo offered. “You can sleep on my bed.”

“What?” You frowned. “No, I couldn’t do that. You’re already being so kind by letting me stay.”

“The couch isn’t really that comfy.”

“All the more reason why I should sleep on it, then,” you said with an air of finality. “I’m the one crashing here, so it’s not fair if you take the couch.”

Wonwoo sighed. “Why don’t we both sleep on the bed, then?” he blurted out.

He processed it.

And processed it.

And realized how fucking shameless he sounded.

“Whoa,” he mumbled. “Sorry, you don’t have to—”

“Sure,” you replied, looking down at the controller, fingers fiddling with the left thumbstick. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

Wonwoo’s jaw went slack, partly out of surprise and partly because he knew he should have been saying something to diffuse the tension he created. Just as he was about to start rambling, Mingyu’s voice rang from downstairs.

“Wonwoo! Your Panda Express is here!” he yelled. “Bro, why’d you order two bowls?”

“Uh… I’m hungry!” Wonwoo shouted back. He spared you a glance before walking to the door. “I’ll go get our food real quick.”

He retrieved the bag from Mingyu, trying to avoid eye contact because he was sure he would give himself away. None of them had any idea you were still here, probably expecting that you had your fun with his Xbox for a few hours before leaving. Wonwoo considered himself an expert in keeping his face clear of all emotion, but Mingyu always read him like a book. It was honestly scary how perceptive his friend was.

When he returned, you were clearing the coffee table in front of you to lay out the food. Wonwoo set the bag down and let you grab your bowl and utensils. He sat on the floor and opened his own, snickering at the sight of you already digging in before he could even open the lid.

“Did you not have lunch or something?” he asked.

“Nope,” you answered. “Didn’t have time to pick it up from the dining hall.”

“You don’t make breakfast at home?”

“Uh… not really.”

Wonwoo hummed. “You could’ve asked one of us to get you something. You shouldn’t be putting off eating until dinner. Three meals a day is important, you know? Or at least like, two.”

You giggled in response. “I can’t tell if you sound like a dad or a boyfriend right now.”

Wonwoo couldn’t stop the blush that spread across his cheeks at your words.

He couldn’t tell either.

After you both finished dinner, Wonwoo let you borrow a towel and clothes so that you could shower. One of the nice things about his room was that he had an attached bathroom. Before the school year even started, Wonwoo knew that he didn’t want to share a common bathroom with twelve other guys.

What he failed to consider, though, was that you would walk back into his room wearing only his loose shirt that fell past your thighs.

“Your pants didn’t fit,” you explained, holding it out to him.

Wonwoo took it gingerly, clearing his throat so that he could ignore all the impure thoughts circulating through his head. He was supposed to be a gentleman, and thinking about how good your hair smelled was making him feel like scum.

“Are you heading to bed now?” he asked, putting his sweatpants back in his drawer before moving to the far end of his twin XL. (It wasn’t very far.)

“Mm, yeah,” you said, running a hand through your hair before rummaging through your bag. After a moment, you asked, “Do you have any moisturizer?”

“Bathroom. Top shelf.”

“Thanks.”

You came back after a few minutes, and Wonwoo was turned to the wall so that he could offer just a little privacy. The entire situation had his heart thundering in his chest. You slid under the covers, the dip in the mattress making Wonwoo hyper aware of your presence.

There was a difference of five inches between a twin and a twin XL sized bed. That five inches was in length, so it had nothing to do with the distance between you and Wonwoo. It offered no safe distance that kept him from feeling your warmth against his back. The three inches of space between you two was way too small.

“Do you have enough space?” he asked in a low voice.

“Kinda,” you replied, but Wonwoo wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

Kinda from you sounded more like “barely.” You had a tendency to play things down, as Wonwoo noticed.

He sat up to peer at your side of the bed. Just as he thought, one of your legs was hanging off the bed while the rest of your body barely managed to fit.

“Let’s switch,” he insisted, getting up before you could even turn his offer down.

“O-okay.” You scooted to the other end of the bed where the wall kept you from falling off. You turned so that you were facing Wonwoo, and he swallowed hard. “Are you sure? I don’t want you falling off.”

“Then what do you suppose we do?” He chuckled. “It’s fine. It’s one night.”

His breath hitched when you wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him secure. Wonwoo had never intended to get this close to you, and this was defeating the purpose of all the walls he set up around you. It was already impossible to resist you, and this was making it even harder for him.

“Let’s just get closer,” you said softly. “Then you won’t fall off.”

You had a point.

Wonwoo moved closer so that his body was pressed up against you. Seeing your head against his chest was making him go crazy, so he stretched his arm out across the pillow.

“If it’s comfortable,” he began, “you can lay on my arm.”

You took his offer with a pleased smile on your face, cuddling closer to him for warmth. This was definitely not what friends did, was it? Hell, were you two even friends? Wonwoo would have considered you to have been more of an acquaintance with your limited interactions.

He swallowed hard, trying to control his heartbeat because he swore you could hear it. It got even worse when he felt your leg brush against his.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s all good. My bed’s kinda small.”

You shuffled. “Sorry, I’m just—”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo muttered. “Hold still.”

“I’m trying, it’s just—”

“My god,” he whispered, and he couldn’t stop his next words from spilling out. “Was that you?”

“W-what?” you stuttered.

Wonwoo felt it again. Against his leg. He didn’t dare look because he was frozen in place and it was dark, but he swore his leg found its way between yours. Something pulsated against his thigh, and he had a good feeling he knew what it was.

“I was asking if that was—”

Wonwoo cut himself off when he shifted forward a little, rousing a soft, contented sigh from your lips. He froze when he heard the sound of pleasure right against his chest. It was the kind of sound he had never heard from you before—one that he didn’t even know you could make. It was straight out of a wet dream or a fantasy, but Wonwoo was pretty sure you were getting aroused because of him.

He could hear the desperation in your tone when you admitted, “Sorry, yeah, I was getting turned on.”

Something in Wonwoo snapped.

It wasn’t like he never got horny, but he always knew how to reign in his hormones. Maybe it was due to the fact that Wonwoo was a hormonal college student who hadn’t gotten laid in a while, but suddenly he wanted to do nothing but tear your clothes off and show you what he had been suppressing this entire time.

Wonwoo was gentle at first, really. He tilted your chin up so that he could kiss you gently. You reciprocated almost immediately, one hand bunching up the fabric of his shirt as you melted into it. Wonwoo only started to get riled up once he slipped his tongue past your lips, pressing your body flush against his.

He pushed your hips down into the mattress and angled himself over you, rolling his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. Wonwoo grunted at the sounds of your muffled whimpers, and when he came to his senses, he realized it was because he had a hand over your mouth.

“This okay?” he asked. You made a sound of agreement, and Wonwoo chuckled, removing his hand from your mouth.

“F-feels good,” you stuttered out. “More.”

“Don’t be too loud,” he mumbled. “These walls are thin.”

You nodded eagerly, eyes screwed shut as you tried to contain yourself. Wonwoo felt like his head was clouding over, lust overtaking every rational bone in his body. He was tugging down your shorts before he could even process what he was about to do.

Fucking you was something out of a dream. Wonwoo hadn’t thought of it much because you two kept a pretty cordial relationship, but now he wanted to do nothing else but have his way with you.

“Such a tease,” he grumbled. “Wearing my shirt and nothing else.”

“That—that was the plan.”

He prodded at your clothed slit with careful fingers, tutting lightly at how soaked you were. “For me? Already?”

You whined. “Wonwoo, please.”

“Want my fingers or my mouth?” he asked, and when you stilled, looking like you were having a hard time deciding, Wonwoo decided to choose for you. “Fingers it is, doll.”

He moved your underwear aside so that he could rub his fingers against your cunt, groaning at how he could feel you throbbing for him. Once Wonwoo decided you had enough with the teasing, he slid two fingers into you slowly. Your walls instantly clenched around his fingers, but he waited until you had adjusted properly.

“So wet for me,” he growled in your ear.

You didn’t know he could talk this dirty; it was clear by the way you were looking up at him so innocently, like you hadn’t been the one making moves on him all day. Wonwoo didn’t know either, though. You were bringing out a side to him that he never tapped into before.

He fingered you expertly, making sure to scissor his fingers inside you when your tight walls started easing up on him. Wonwoo shuddered at the sounds you were making and stared down at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside you. When he felt your thighs starting to quiver, he sped up his pace. His fingers were moving in and out of you so smoothly that he didn’t stop the rhythm even as you came undone around him.

You slapped a hand over your mouth this time to muffle your cries. Wonwoo was more than pleased with your reaction, helping you ride out your orgasm by rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“Good girl,” he praised. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and sat up on his knees, tugging his sweatpants and boxers down. “You ready to go again?”

“Please,” you begged, arching your back so that you could tug down your underwear and kick it off your ankles.

The lights were off, but he could clearly see your body illuminated by the moonlight. Wonwoo pressed kisses from your thighs to your hips, slowly sliding your shirt up as he kissed up your stomach and chest. Then, he helped you get rid of your shirt entirely, groaning at the sight of your body laid bare for him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, lining up his cock at your entrance. “I’ll take it slow.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Mmhm.”

Wonwoo pushed himself inside you carefully, making sure to slow down and wait for you to adjust whenever he saw your face scrunching up. When you whined for him to keep going, he slid into you fully, groaning at the feeling of your walls around his throbbing cock.

“Fuck,” he growled out. “You feel amazing, Y/N.”

“W-Wonwoo, go,” you moaned.

He gripped your hips and started thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, slowly working his way up until you could take him without any winces or flashes of discomfort. Soon, Wonwoo was pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck as he pounded into you, listening to your moans and whimpers like it was his favorite song.

You felt so perfect around him, like Wonwoo was meant to bury his cock inside you like this. He held you down and thrusted in you harder, fucking you like a well-oiled machine until you were squirming underneath him.

“I-I’m close,” you whispered.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, nodding before he sped up his pace, making sure to hit that sweet spot right under your cervix. Wonwoo continued fucking you until he had to slap his hand around your mouth to muffle your loud cries. You fell off the edges right before him, and he could feel it in the way you were clenching and unclenching around him.

The intensity of your orgasm drove him to his own high, making him pull out so that he could cum on your stomach. Wonwoo panted heavily, collapsing beside you and turning so that he could work his fingers on your clit until your orgasm subsided. You were a whimpering and writhing mess, but you had never looked so beautiful to him.

“So…” you started, chest heaving as you caught your breath, “that just happened.”

“It did,” he mumbled. “Did you like it?”

Maybe it was that twinge of anxiousness that lingered at the back of Wonwoo’s head. He wasn’t the type to be able to just fuck people and go; there was a sense of closeness he felt after sex, and it was hitting hard right now. He respected your decision, of course, if all you wanted was some dick, but he knew he would be feeling like shit afterward.

To his relief, though, you managed a beaming smile through your labored breaths.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “I liked it a lot.”

It was strange how things seemed to develop between you and Wonwoo so naturally.

One day you two were on a small talk basis, and the next you were practically his roommate. You seemed to be unfazed about everything, but Wonwoo couldn’t help but think about how weird it was that he hadn’t ever seen you go home since the day he fucked you for the first time.

The first time, meaning there were many, many other times. His daily routine consisted of waking up, going to class, coming home to you playing on his Xbox, fucking you, doing some homework, fucking you again, and then going to bed. It was honestly surprising how you never got tired of all the positions you tried out with him.

Earlier in the week, Wonwoo fucked you in his shower so that it would drown out your moans. Unfortunately, he underestimated how slippery shower sex was, and he had to explain the loud crash to everyone living in the frat house because of this.

So, now, everyone found out about your little arrangement. You and Wonwoo weren’t exactly dating, but there was definitely something going on.

It wasn’t just sex, though. If it was just sex, Wonwoo wouldn’t have questioned it, but you two ended up looking more like a couple half the time. Last week, Wonwoo took you to an art museum, and you two spent the entire day holding hands and looking at the art pieces together. He only registered it as a date when he took you to a tofu house afterward and laughed at the sight of you failing to crack open your egg.

Moreover, your pillow talks were getting a little serious. Wonwoo would finish inside you and then proceed to listen to you talk about your day, all the while stroking your hair and rubbing circles on your arm. You two had discourses about philosophy, watched TikToks in bed, and even bought a succulent to raise together. It was definitely well past a normal friends with benefits relationship.

When Wonwoo confided in Soonyoung about his peculiar situationship with you, he came to wonder if he was just being used for his Xbox. That couldn’t possibly be the case, though, because you would’ve left by now.

Omori was a game that took around twenty hours to reach completion. Wonwoo was certain about this; he did his research (aka consulting the Steam community). Statistically speaking, you should have beaten the game by now.

Maybe you just sucked at the game. Some people just didn’t have any gaming sense, as Seungcheol discovered when he played co-op with Chan. Wonwoo didn’t want to accidentally offend you by mentioning that you should have finished the game by now, so he took a less aggressive route.

“How long is this game?” he asked one evening as he sat next to you on the couch.

“Around twenty hours if you play in one go,” you answered, like you were reading off the Steam community discussion page verbatim.

Wonwoo was shocked. If you knew how long the game was, then why hadn’t you given up already? You had definitely been playing for way more than twenty hours. Maybe even twice that amount.

“You’ve practically been living in my house for two weeks now,” he said. “You haven’t hit twenty hours yet?”

“Well, there’s side quests and stuff, you know?” you answered, which was actually a good point. Wonwoo was a sucker for side quests, especially in indie games. “But I finished the game last week. I’m playing another route now.”

Ah, routes.

Routes that made video games worth the money because there were so many different outcomes one could achieve. Routes that made people keep replaying the same game over and over again just to get an alternative ending for a measly achievement or two. Routes that immersed people into different storylines and character developments.

Routes that made you stay over at Jeon Wonwoo’s house for two whole weeks.

You were playing another route. Meaning, it would potentially take the same amount of time or more to replay the game. Meaning, you would be sleeping in Wonwoo’s twin XL for longer. It would be nearing a month at this rate.

“Y/N, you can’t keep staying here,” Wonwoo said. “You’ve been living in my room for like, two weeks now. You don’t even pay rent.”

You frowned. “You pay rent?”

“Of course I pay rent! Everyone pays rent! Now go back to your place.”

“But your Xbox is here.”

He brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear. “You can come back anytime to play it, but I feel guilty making you pay rent for your place when you’re living out in my room, okay? So go home.”

“But…”

Wonwoo sighed. It wasn’t that you were overstaying your welcome. In fact, he liked having you around. It was great that he was allowed to have his own room in a house full of messy frat boys, but it did get lonely sometimes. Your presence was a refreshing change. It was getting hard to ignore the looks he got when he would leave for class in the morning with you following behind him like a duckling, though.

“Y/N, is there something else going on?” Wonwoo asked with a light sigh. He turned his body so that he could look at you properly, watching as you hesitated to set the controller down for a moment. “Are you avoiding going back to your place for any particular reason?”

You let out an awkward laugh, voice trailing off toward the end when you said, “It’s not like there’s exactly a home to go back to…”

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. You never seemed to have an issue with your apartment in the past (at least from what he observed) other than your occasional complaints about your roommate. “Is something going on?”

You finally set the controller down and turned to face him, sighing heavily. Only when your body was turned to him did Wonwoo realize how close you two were on the couch. He felt compelled to place a hand on your shoulder or something—squeeze it, maybe. He wasn’t the best when it came to comforting people, but it looked like you could really use a hug.

“My roommate got us evicted a few weeks ago,” you admitted with a newfound sense of shame that Wonwoo had never seen from you before. “Honestly, it’s partly my fault because I was throwing a few kickbacks in the beginning of the year. Music got a little loud sometimes so we got a few noise complaints. I toned it way down when we got a warning, though, so I told my roommate to be careful, too.” Your eyes got watery as you spoke, and Wonwoo could tell where this was going. “Basically, when I visited home a few weeks ago, I came back to find out that we were getting evicted and my roommate decided to not let me know until I got back.”

“That’s horrible,” Wonwoo mumbled. He decided to go ahead and squeeze your shoulder, ignoring his pre-existing dilemma over whether to do it or not. To his relief, you looked more at ease once he did. “Do you have any back-up place to stay or something?”

“Um…” You sniffled, wiping a stray tear that had been building up at your waterline. “I dunno. I moved some of my stuff in Mina’s garage for now, but I don’t think I can keep it there forever. She doesn’t really have any more space in her house unless I couch surf or something.”

“So that’s why you’ve been crashing here,” Wonwoo concluded, the dots finally connecting in his head.

You looked ashamed but nodded. “I’m sorry.” You pointed to your laptop that was sitting on his nightstand. “I’ve been looking for a place to stay, I swear. It’s just that it’s so hard to find a sub-leaser this late in the school year.”

“No, no, don’t be,” he murmured. “Um… you can stay here until you find a new place, okay? However long it takes.”

You mustered a smile, which made Wonwoo’s heart swell a little. “Thanks, Woo.”

Maybe it was because you were just so vulnerable in front of him or maybe Wonwoo was just thinking about how your smile was the most beautiful thing in the world, but he ended up leaning over and kissing you gently. You froze for a moment before kissing him back, moving your hand so that it was sliding up to the back of his neck. Wonwoo tilted your chin up and rubbed small circles along your jaw with his thumb as his lips moved against yours in perfect synchrony.

When he pulled back, he smiled fondly at how flustered you looked.

He murmured, “Just doing what any decent boyfriend would do.”

You didn’t respond right away.

Wonwoo waited.

Waited.

And he realized.

He just called himself your boyfriend.

The panic came crashing down on him immediately after. Wonwoo’s brain was going haywire over what he had just said, and he had no idea how to recover from it. He should have corrected himself or tried to laugh it off, but that would probably be insensitive.

Did he want to be your boyfriend? Yes, he wanted nothing more than to put a label on what was going on between you two. The confusion was driving him crazy, hence his fuck-up two seconds ago.

Your eyes were wide as discs. “You just…”

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “I… I wasn’t thinking.”

“You just said boyfriend!” you exclaimed. “Which… which would mean I’m your girlfriend.”

“Yes,” Wonwoo replied, wincing at your reiteration. “I’m aware I said that.”

Your voice then dropped about two octaves, and Wonwoo had never seen you so shy. “Wait, so, you don’t wanna be?”

He turned to look at you, eyes widening at your words. Were you implying what he thought you were implying? The way you were nervously picking at your nails could only make him assume you were anticipating more.

He swallowed hard. “You’d be okay with dating me?”

“Okay?” you echoed, scoffing a little. “I thought you were a genius or something, Woo. How could you be so dense? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for ages!”

Wonwoo’s mouth went dry. “I… I—yeah, um…” After floundering for words for a solid minute, he composed himself and asked straightforwardly, “I know this is long overdue, but will you officially be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

A pretty smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Of course, idiot.”

You kissed him with such affection that Wonwoo didn’t realize he had been craving for a long time, and this, he realized, was bliss.

You never found another place to rent.

That was fine, though, because Wonwoo didn’t mind you staying at his place.

Sure, he had to have a long discussion about it with the rest of his frat, but since you knew all of them, they were thankfully in favor of you staying for the rest of the year. Sure, his bed was still way too small for the two of you, but you both learned to make it work. Plus, Wonwoo was glad he could split rent with someone now.

Wonwoo was honestly anticipating you staying in his room for the rest of the school year. Finding a new place so late was unreasonable, so although he appreciated your efforts, he knew from the beginning that you two would just end up living together.

It was strange to be living with the girl he started dating recently, but he liked being able to wake up to you in the morning. Plus, it wasn’t like he saw you all the time. Whenever he was on campus, he would usually stick with Soonyoung or Mingyu.

“Wonwoo!” You hugged him from behind, nearly startling both him and Soonyoung in the middle of their daily study sessions at the library. “I got you a donut.”

Soonyoung frowned. “Where’s mine?”

“You didn’t ask for one,” you answered with a grin. “Just kidding, I got you one, but Chan ate it while we were walking over.”

“My bad,” Chan apologized with a half-eaten donut in one hand and powdered sugar on his lips.

Wonwoo wasn’t heavy on PDA but smiled when you kissed his cheek, gingerly taking the donut from you. “You can sit at our table, if you want,” he offered.

“That’s okay, I’m gonna be here until like, midnight,” you said with a frown. “Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, of course.” He squeezed your hand and smiled as he watched you go.

“Dude,” Soonyoung cut in, snapping him out of his dreamy trance. His eyes were locked on the donut. “You’re so lucky.”

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if his best friend was talking about you or the donut, but he agreed wholeheartedly.

“Yeah,” he replied with a wistful sigh, “I really am.”

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #svt hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen x reader

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 3 years ago

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Hello your writing is amazing, just wanted to say that before my request, could I get Eula, Lisa, Beidou, and Lumine with a s/o who has rabbit ears and while they are usually defensive about anyone touching them they allow the girls to, just not too much in public.

Them with a reader that has bunny ears and sometimes let's them pet them

characters: Eula/Beidou/Lumine x gn!reader (seperate)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: Left out Lisa, bc I usually only write for 3 characters, so I hope that's fine with you.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Eula

Since Eula spent a lot of time with Amber and was bombarded with her rabbit obsession almost every day, even she had to admit that she found them cute and whenever she got to pet one, the young Lawrence would forget about all the grievances she had to avenge for a while.

But you were something different. Even though you had the ears of a rabbit, you were still a human and most importantly, her significant other. And so whenever the two of you were together, no matter if in public or in private, she would always act as if your ears were invisible to her.

Sometimes however, when you glanced at her while she though you weren’t looking, you would catch her staring at them, only for her cheeks to immediately blush and her eyes to start looking in a different direction whenever she realised that you noticed.

You and Eula spent a quiet afternoon in your home, both of you sitting on the couch, doing your own things while a comfortable silence lingered on. And while the captain tried her best to fight the urge to finally touch your ears. Ambers continuous talk about rabbits and how nice their ears felt, had caused her to get more and more curious about your ears with each day. She was sure that they would feel just as fluffy as normal rabbit ears, probably even better, but just before her thought could drift off even more, she noticed you returning her stare and quickly turned her head back to the report she was initially reading.

“What?”, Eula asked out loud, sounding unusually nervous when she noticed your eyes not leaving her face or a few good minutes, only for her to turn her head back so she would face you.

“You can touch them if you want”, you answered, feeling just as embarrassed as she did. Your words were successful at catching Eula off-guard. You never liked it when people asked you if they could touch your ears and always grew defensive about them, so your offer her to touch them, was something she never expected.

“Who says that I want to touch them”, both of you knew the answer, but like with most things Eula’s pride stopped her from saying what she really wanted, causing you to let out a sigh and reshape your offer.

“Would you be so kind and pet them for me?”, it wasn’t like Eula was the only one that secretly wanted her to touch your ears and even though you wouldn’t want anyone to do so, your girlfriend was a huge exception.

Your “request” caused silence to return for a moment, only for Eula to eventually sit down closer to you before fulfilling your wish.

“Fine, if you really want me too, then I guess I can do it.”

Beidou

Living on the crux was fine most of the time, the big exception being nights on which there was something to celebrate. Alcohol turned the rest of the crew into mindless beings that couldn’t control their urges to pet your ears, and while you often found a way to lock yourself into your chambers before everything escalated, there were other times you were too busy drinking yourself to remember fleeing.

When that happened, there was no way for you to escape. You could jump overboard, but seeing as the others were so drunk that they had difficulties to stand properly, you wouldn’t trust them to fish you out again.

Today was such a night, and while you had already mentally prepared yourself for what was about to come, you felt a wave of relief wash over your body when you heard Beidou shout at her men to stop. She quickly pulled you out of the sea of people before dragging you as far away from them as possible. Unfortunately for you, you only noticed how much her own breath stank of alcohol, once the door to your chambers closed, far too late to stop Beidou from throwing herself at you and petting your ears herself.

“Don’t make such a face, we know that you like it”, the drunk captain stated before letting out a loud laugh. And while her statement was technically the truth, you still couldn’t help but find it embarrassing.

“Could you at least try to control yourself? My ears might actually fall off when you don’t”, you asked after failing in your attempts to remove her hands by force. There was no chance for you to get out of this situation, so you could at least try to make a compromise. But you soon enough realised, that drunk Beidou was having none of it, seemingly enjoying herself way too much. You would have to weather the storm, she’d probably apologise to you once she finally was sober again, maybe you could even get a bottle of alcohol out of it.

Lumine

The traveller had seen many unique persons on her quest to find her brother, be it the small, fairy like, travel companion always by her side, literal gods, or Ganyu and Yanfei with their horns, so she wasn’t too surprised by your ears. But unlike in the other cases, she found it increasingly harder to fight her urges to touch them, the closer you two got. Sure, Yae also had fluffy ears, but in the kitsune’s case, she had made it crystal clear that it wasn’t going to happen. But whenever Paimon or she joked about wanting to touch them, you’d never outright refused, instead answering with vague answers, hinting that you weren’t completely against it.

But when you were once again alone in her tea pot again, and she made another comment about your ears, both she and Paimon found it difficult to hide their happiness, when you allowed the two of them to touch them. Afterwards, the days in which they didn’t pet them, grew increasingly rarer, until it had become a daily occurrence.

You had just defeated another huge monster, causing the two of you to have to catch your breath, when Paimon materialised out of nowhere, startling you a bit.

“Wow, you two did a great job. Paimon could swear that she never saw a monster that big”, the fairy stated in her usual high-pitched voice before stopping and looking into your direction. At first you were confused, something that got worse when Lumine joined in. The two of them weren’t looking at your face, so what else were they looking a-… oh. Once you realised, they were staring at your ears, you already knew where this was going.

“You are right Paimon, I think we did a great job defeating that monster. I think we deserve a reward”, Lumine managed to say it in such a tone, that she made it sound like petting your ears was also considered to be a reward for you, but you simply couldn’t refuse them, not when it, even if you wouldn’t say it out loud and was kind of embarrassing, did feel good. And so you simply closed your eyes while letting out a sigh before just nodding and letting the two of them fall over you.

#genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x reader #eula x y/n #eula x you #eula lawrence #eula #eula x reader #beidou x y/n #beidou x you #beidou x reader #beidou #lumine x reader #lumine

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ro-is-struggling · 3 years ago

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Can I request one where it’s post tfatws and zemo somehow breaks out of the wakandan jail and is back and he texts reader (Steve is Y/N’s older brother and she is also a supersoldier and married to Bucky) on a burner phone and she’s very secretive and one night she meets Zemo in a closed off diner and stuff and they discuss something his new plan to take down and expose the power broker (Bucky and Sam don’t know it’s Sharon) and when she leaves she runs into Bucky on the street but he can’t see her face because she’s wearing this and it’s very dark so they start to fight but she gets away and Bucky notices that the moves seem familiar. The next day, he asks her where she went last night because she came back late and she lies and so the next night, they fight the power broker’s men and she’s not in her regular fighting outfit she’s wearing this and zemo is hiding and later when Bucky sees the figure getting away he runs after it and shoots a bullet to the sky to stop the person. She realizes that this is where he finds out and she can’t do anything so she turns back and when she does removes the hood, it reveals it’s her and he is betrayed and thinking she’s working with zemo to bring back the winter soldier but she was only trying to take down the power broker with angst and fluffy ending plz 😁❤️

Hi! I absolutely LOVED your request so much!! I've been working on it for so long bc I wanted it to be perfect. I don't know if it is, but it's as close as I can get🤷🏻‍♀️ Also it's kind of long bc I tried to eplain a little the reasons behind reader's actions I got carried away. I hope you like it and and that it comes close to what you had in mind

Summary: Zemo contacts you after escaping from prison because he wants you to help him stop the Power Broker. You thought he was crazy for thinking you would be willing to join him, but when he brought up the fact that it was a dangerous mission you had no choice but to accept his offer. You hated Zemo, but you weren't willing to lose Bucky. He was the last family you had left.

Warnings: established relationship (Bucky and reader are married), angst, reader lies to Bucky, Zemo being a little shit and getting in everybody's heads, Bucky’s insecurities, ends in fluff. Also reader is Steve's younger sister and a super soldier

English is not my first language

Word count: 9400+

Notes: there's surprisingly more Zemo in this than I initially anticipated. Apparently i find him to be an interesting and fun character to write, so sorry about that

Between Us || Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader

You should have known something bad was going to happen. Usually fate didn't let you enjoy many peaceful moments. It didn't care that you had earned your vacation or that you and Bucky were planning that romantic getaway since your wedding. No, fate only cared about making you run from one problem to another without giving you a break. Your whole life had been like that, so when you heard Bucky's phone ringing you knew your vacation was over before he even answered the call.

What you didn't expect was to see all glimpse of happiness leave your husband's face as soon as the voice on the other line spoke. His expression became serious, raising your concern. He ended the call after exchanging a couple of words that didn't give you much information, and let out a frustrated sigh, throwing the phone on the bed. You got up, approaching him with concern to ask him what had happened.

"Zemo escaped."

Your vacation was over as soon as those words came out of Bucky's mouth. You quickly packed up your things and hopped on the first plane back home, where you contacted Sam before settling comfortably back into your house. He was already working with the Dora Milaje to find Zemo and bring him back to prison so he gave you a brief summary of what they knew. They didn't have many leads, just a vague theory about how he had escaped, but that was it. Zemo hadn't left any trace or clue as to where he was headed. So you spent the last few weeks stuck watching security camera footage waiting for facial recognition software to find him somewhere.

"I never should have helped him escape." Bucky muttered in frustration as he watched the live feed from one of the security cameras located near one of the properties Zemo owned in the area. His eyes were glued to the screen, but you didn't need to see them to know they were filled with guilt and regret. Zemo could get inside Bucky's head in a way that very few people could. And now he was letting the situation cloud his judgment, finding a way to blame himself for Zemo's escape even though he had nothing to do with it. So you stepped in to stop his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

"Stop that, Buck. This is not your fault." You reassured him in a soft voice, turning his chair around to force him to look at you.

"Yeah well, I helped him escape the first time. He spent how long in that German prison? And he never tried anything... And now he spends a couple months in Wakanda and he escapes! Makes me think that maybe he liked the freedom I gave him a little too much."

"It doesn't make any sense." You spoke in a contemplative tone. "You said it yourself, he was locked up for a long time and he never tried anything. So why now?"

"Because he's insane and I showed him how to do it."

"No, there's gotta be more to it. There's something we are not seeing. This feels too random to be Zemo."

"What do you mean?" Bucky looked at you with confusion, his eyes full of curiosity.

"I mean Zemo works with a moral code, a very fucked up one, but a moral code at last. All he does has a purpose. Using you to destroy the avengers, helping us stop Karli and the rest of the super soldiers... So what is his plan now?"

"What you're trying to say is that we should try to figure out what his plan is in order to catch him?" Bucky said more as a question than a statement. You nodded.

"I mean, I think it's very unlikely that he escaped just because he was bored. It's Zemo! There's always something more with him." You had no idea what he might be up to, but you were sure he was up to something. That just was the kind of person Zemo was. "I think that's our best plan to catch him."

After discussing the situation for a while, Bucky left the room to call Sam and tell him about your ideas and theories. You took advantage of the moment to get up and stretch your legs, approaching the coffee pot to pour your second cup of coffee of the morning. You hadn't slept well the night before and you would need to have your energy and cognitive abilities functioning properly if you wanted to make progress on the case.

Your phone began to vibrate and you pulled it out of your pocket as you took a sip of your hot coffee without giving the matter much thought. You expected to find some unimportant notification or an email that you didn't have time to respond to. However, when you read the content of the text message glowing on your screen you almost dropped the cup of coffee from your hands. It was a rather cryptic message from an unknown number, but you were sure you knew who had sent it.

Hello, my darling.

We should talk.

Meet me at midnight and come alone.

The message had a location attached to it at the end, with no name or personal details to give you any clues as to who the sender was or to whom it was addressed. But you didn't need any details to know who it was from.

My darling.

That was not a message that you had received by mistake, nor was it a joke. No. That was a message that Zemo had sent specifically to you. You were sure of it. No one else called you that way. You didn't know exactly why he did it, you suspected it had something to do with his obsession with annoying Bucky. He knew you hated it when he called you that and that's why he had used it in the message. He knew you would recognize it immediately.

It was a stupid move. Escaping from jail just to contact you and give you his location and the time he would be there. You didn't understand the logic behind his action. What did he think would happen? There was no way you would listen to him. You would attend his meeting, only accompanied by Sam, Bucky and all the Dora Milaje if that was what you had to do to catch him and put him back in jail.

However, you thought it would be a good idea to play along. You were pretty sure that Zemo had communicated with you using a burner phone, so there wasn't any point in tracking him down. But maybe if you got him to talk you would get some details that might help you understand the situation a little better.

What makes you think you can trust me?

You wrote after contemplating your options for a moment. You were trying to provoke him, to bait him into talking without being too obvious. You thought it would be best to proceed with caution, to react defensively instead of agreeing to his demands immediately to make it seem more credible. Zemo knew very well that you didn't like him and he didn't like you either. As a super soldier, you represented everything he hated. But he was still communicating with you and you wanted to understand why.

Time seemed to freeze as you waited for an answer. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen as you bit the skin on the inside of your cheek. The seconds ticked and you started to worry by the lack of an answer so you threw the phone on the table in frustration, thinking that maybe Zemo had already thrown the phone away to avoid being traced.

But then the device vibrated again. And nothing in the world could have prepared you for the words you read when you unlocked your phone.

Sharon is the Power Broker.

The world around you began to spin as you read the message over and over again, hoping that somehow the words in it would change. It couldn't be true. You refused to believe it. She had helped you escape after the Sokovia Accords, turning against the government she worked for you. She had risked her life by helping you stop Karli and the Flag Smashers. Sharon had saved your life on countless occasions and you refused to believe that someone like her was capable of the acts attributed to the Power Broker.

But then the cynical voice inside your head reminded you that Sharon had spent a lot of time alone in Madripoor. Years in which you hadn't had contact with her, so you didn't really know what had become of her life. She seemed to have managed quite well. And yes, it was largely because she had become a smuggler of stolen art, but there was a big difference between that and being a mob boss, wasn't there? Still, that voice in your head couldn't help but wonder if it was possible that Sharon was capable of something like that.

"No, there's no way..." You muttered to yourself in an attempt to quiet that annoying voice. That was probably all part of Zemo's plan, whatever it was. He was messing with you because that's what he did best. He is an expert in the art of manipulation and you couldn't let him into your mind. You couldn't let him win.

However, when Bucky came back into the room you didn't mention anything about Zemo's message or his accusations about Sharon. So on some level he had already won, you just weren't ready to admit it yet.

Lying in the darkness of your room you continued to mentally debate what you should do. The meeting with Zemo was in an hour and you still hadn't decided what course of action to take. You wanted to tell Bucky, explain the situation and go with him to find Zemo to settle everything once and for all. But seeing him sleeping so peacefully next to you, you weren’t able to wake him up. He looked so calm with his eyes closed and his hair all messy on the pillow. It wasn't so common for him to sleep so peacefully. His dreams were usually plagued with horrible memories of his past life that haunted him in the form of nightmares.

He needed a good night's rest, he deserved that peace and quiet and you didn't want to be the one to interrupt it. Just as you didn't want to be the one to inform him that there was a small possibility that Sharon was the Power Broker. You knew he would blame himself for it like he did with everything. Because in his mind he was the reason Sharon had had to escape to Madripoor and live among criminals until he eventually became one. And you didn't want to bring him that kind of pain, at least not until you found out the truth.

Looking at Bucky's beautiful face you realized what you had to do. Leaning over him, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, feeling the weight of guilt on your chest. ‘It's for the best.’ A voice in your mind repeated over and over as you got out of bed. You grabbed some clothes from the closet before heading for the door, opting to change your attire in a place where the noise of your movements couldn't wake Bucky.

Before leaving you turned to observe the relaxed figure of your husband in bed, moving slightly to adjust his position as he slept. "It's for the best." You whispered into the darkness before leaving the room, closing the door carefully behind you.

You quickly changed out of your pajamas into a more appropriate outfit. You decided it would be better not to wear your usual suit to avoid being recognized, so you opted for a black outfit that gave you incredible mobility while helping you stay hidden in the darkness of the night. You laced up your combat boots and pulled up the hood of your suit, hiding your identity behind the fabric, before grabbing your gun and heading out of your house.

As you drove to the location Zemo had sent you, you adjusted the details of your plan. You were not going to work with him. You didn't care if his words were true, he belonged in prison. But you figured it wouldn't hurt to talk to him a little before you arrested him, find out what he knew to deduce if it was just a bunch of lies or if he was really telling the truth. It was a big accusation he was making against Sharon and you couldn't just ignore it. So you decided it would be best to talk to him to draw your own conclusions. After all, Sharon was your friend and deserved the benefit of the doubt.

There was nothing you wanted more than for Zemo to be lying, but deep down you knew there was a possibility that it was all true. As much as it pained you to admit it, him breaking out of prison to deal with the Power Broker sounded reasonable. It fit his moral code and you feared it might be that missing piece of information you had been looking for all along.

When you arrived at your destination you were surprised to find that it was a well-maintained building. Due to his status as a fugitive you expected Zemo to have arranged to meet you in some abandoned shed in the middle of nowhere, but you should have figured it would be the opposite. That was not Zemo's style, he liked luxury and the finer things in life. He was a Baron after all, that was the life he was used to.

You checked the perimeter before entering, looking for any signs that would alert you that you were walking into a trap. The streets were empty so a guard or sniper would have easily stood out. Finding nothing suspicious, you knocked on the door while praying you had made the right decision.

The large doors opened, revealing the face of an elderly man on the other side. It was the same man who had greeted you on Zemo's private jet when you helped him escape from prison the first time. He smiled kindly at you and led the way to his employer. You walked down the hallway cautiously, resting your hand on the gun secured to your waist in case you needed it.

"What the hell is this place?"

The room at the end of the hallway was much larger than you had expected. It was decorated with expensive looking paintings and vases. In the center was a long wooden table that looked like something out of a fairytale princess's castle. On it rested a variety of plates filled with food. And at the head of the table, seated as if on a throne, was Zemo.

"Ah, my darling, you made it!" He exclaimed, looking up from his plate to glance at you. "Do you like it? It's one of the several properties I own in the area." He explained simply, wiping the corners of his lips with a cloth napkin that rested in his lap.

"We didn't know about this one." You muttered, momentarily distracted by your surroundings.

"I was counting on that," he said with a smile. "Please, sit down, darling. I hope you don't mind that I started without you." He added, gesturing toward the food on his plate. "I couldn't help myself, prison food does not compare to these delicacies."

You watched him from the doorway with slightly raised eyebrows, surprised by his casual tone. Zemo continued eating as if nothing was wrong, as if he was sure that you were no danger to him. That bothered you. You weren't there to play games, you were there to arrest him and get the information you needed. He thought he had you trapped under his web of lies and manipulation, but he didn't and you made sure to let him know it.

"Get up, Zemo. You're coming with me." It wasn't a request, it was a statement reinforced by the gun you had taken out of its holster and held in your hands, pointing in his direction. Zemo looked at you with amusement in his eyes and continued eating, not at all concerned about your threatening pose.

"Relax, my darling. There is no need for violence."

"I'm not here to play, Zemo. You are going back to prison." You took a couple of steps forward, approaching him hoping that your insistence would make him realize that things wouldn't go his way this time.

"We can talk about this." Zemo spoke in a soft tone, finally letting go of his fork and focusing all of his attention on you. "Remember, I'm on your side."

"No you're not. We are not partners, I'm not working with you!"

"Yet you are here all alone, just like I asked." You opened your mouth to respond, but closed it a second later. He was right and you hated it. Zemo smiled triumphantly and you began to think that maybe you hadn't made the right decision after all. "You need me to stop the Power Broker... To stop Sharon from hurting more people."

"How do I know this isn't another one of your tricks?"

"All the information I have on Sharon is in that file." Zemo pointed to a rather bulky folder resting on the other end of the table, right in front of your eyes. "Go ahead, read it. You'll see I'm being completely honest with you, my darling."

Your eyes traveled from the folder to Zemo and back to the folder, trying to decide what to do. You had gone there with the goal of getting that information and Zemo didn't seem to be ready to escape from there the moment you let your guard down. You'd be quick, flip through the files, see what he had to offer and in the end arrest him anyway. What could go wrong?

You lowered your gun with some hesitation and slowly approached the table. Your fingers lingered over the folder for a moment as you gathered the courage to face the information it contained. Letting out a sigh, you opened it, scanning the pages carefully.

It was too much to take in, the confirmation that Sharon was indeed the Power Broker evident on every page of that file. You felt overwhelmed, the world around you spinning as your brain struggled to process the information.

"How did you get all this? You were in prison." You spoke, dropping into the chair closest to you. You didn't trust your legs to support your body for much longer.

"I had some help. Old contacts, people who owed me favors... I was able to reach out to them before I was taken and sent to Wakanda."

"So that's how you escaped? With their help."

"I can neither confirm nor deny the involvement of any of my associates in my escape from prison." He said in his characteristic cryptic tone, making you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, sure you can't." You mumbled to yourself, returning your attention to the papers in front of you. You read every word in that file several times in an attempt to convince yourself of its validity. It was hard to believe, but Zemo was telling the truth and he had the evidence to prove it. You closed the file folder in frustration, letting out a sigh as you leaned against the back of the chair.

"And what's your great plan to stop the Power Broker? Because I assume you have one."

"You are correct, my darling." He smiled at you as he placed the glass of wine he had previously brought to his lips back on the table. "But you don't have to worry about it. You don't have to know all the details, I just need you to be ready to fight whenever I tell you to."

"No way!" You weren't going to work with Zemo, much less without knowing the details of his plan. You weren't going to let him turn you into his personal thug. "No, I can't do this. You're going back to jail."

"It's in your best interest that I take care of this, Y/N. Who else is going to do it if not me?"

"I'll tell Sam and we'll figure something out."

"It's too risky." Zemo interrupted you, raising his voice slightly. All of a sudden the expression on his face, which was previously relaxed and amused, changed to a serious one. "Sharon is his friend. Sam cares about her, but the Power Broker only cares about money and power. Sharon won't hesitate to eliminate him if she needs to, and she will use Sam's feelings against him."

"No... There has to be another way."

"There is none. Sam and Bucky are too weak to do what needs to be done. They'll let their feelings cloud their judgment and we can't afford that. Sharon is dangerous and if we want to stop her we need to be as ruthless as her."

"No. No way." You jumped up from your chair, refusing to listen to any more words coming out of Zemo's mouth. He couldn't be right, could he?

Maybe he was right when he said that Sam and Bucky would let their feelings cloud their minds, but that was normal. Finding out that Sharon, someone they thought was an ally, a friend, was actually one of the biggest criminals out there was pretty wild news. You expected them not to believe you at first because you yourself had had trouble processing the situation even after reading the incriminating files. But that wasn't reason enough for you to go behind their backs, let alone join Zemo of all people. Maybe it would take a while, but you were sure you could convince Sam and Bucky to investigate Sharon. And then together you could come up with a plan to stop her.

"Let me ask you this." Zemo's voice stopped your nervous pacing, circling the room as your mind worked faster than normal to come to a decision. "Would you rather fight one of the most dangerous criminals out there with me, someone you don't care if lives or dies, or with the little family you have left?"

You looked at Zemo with a frown. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Things can go wrong very easily and very fast. And when that happens blood will be spilled. Are you sure you want it to be the blood of the only family you have left now that Steve is gone?"

You wanted to tell Zemo that he was being dramatic. Assure him that Sam and Bucky could watch their backs and that he was just saying that to scare you. But you weren't able to formulate a word because a lump formed in your throat as a voice in your mind began to wonder if Zemo was right. You knew the Power Broker was dangerous from everything you had read about it. And Sharon had been able to keep her alter ego a secret all this time, helping you under the guise that you were friends when she had only done so out of convenience. She was a highly intelligent and skilled woman and you honestly didn't know what to expect from her.

The only thing you knew for sure was that you were not willing to lose Sam or Bucky because of her. They were the only family you had left. In a world that was still foreign to you, they were the only thing that felt normal, familiar, comforting. Especially Bucky, whom you not only loved with all your heart, but also knew since you were a child. They were your support, the ones who kept you afloat even in your worst moments. Steve's departure hurt a little less with them by your side. You still missed your brother, but Sam's friendship and Bucky's unconditional love helped you get up in the mornings. Honestly, you didn't know if you would be able to go on if something bad happened to them, much less knowing that there was something you could have done to prevent it.

Zemo watched you closely, waiting for an answer. Even though he was sure he had convinced you he still wanted to hear you say it. You wanted to slap the expression of victory off his face, but you restrained yourself. The truth was that you were more angry with yourself than with him. You hated yourself for letting him get inside your head. You knew he was manipulating you and yet you let him continue. And now it was too late to turn back. You were completely screwed.

"Fine, I'm in." You said through your teeth. "What's the plan?"

Zemo didn't tell you much since he was in the early stages of planning. He only told you that for the time being your role was to be the brute force he needed to fight his way through the Power Broker's many allies. That wouldn't be a difficult task for you since you were a highly trained super soldier. Zemo mentioned to you that he would soon need you for a mission—something to do with getting specific information about Sharon and her routine—, but he didn't give you many details. He only asked you to act carefully around her and to find out as much as you could without being obvious, using her friendship as an advantage. He assured you that when he needed you he would call you and explain all the details and you didn't bother to press him for more information. You knew it would be useless, Zemo loved mystery and secrecy.

When you finally parted ways after discussing the central points of your new partnership, you made your way back to your car. You had parked it a couple of blocks away so as not to arouse suspicion in case things went wrong. And you were thankful you had done so as soon as you turned on your phone and saw the messages from Bucky. Apparently one of the security cameras in the area had captured Zemo's image. And now your husband was heading there to inspect the place in hopes of catching him, sending you the location in case you got to see the message in time.

"Fuck fuck fuck" you muttered under your breath, adjusting your hood as you quickened your pace. Seeing the time Bucky had sent you those messages and taking into account the time it had taken you to drive there, you figured he was probably already in the area. You should have figured something would go wrong. Fate and luck had never been on your side.

You walked through the dark streets with caution, remaining in a state of constant vigilance. It was late so there weren't many people on the street, something that was both good and bad. On the one hand, it was good because it allowed you to have a clear view of your surroundings and therefore distinguish anyone approaching you. But on the other hand, it was bad because it meant that you couldn't run away as easily if someone did indeed approach you. So you had to keep an eye out for any sign that someone else was nearby so you could hide and escape without being seen.

Your heart was beating fast, a lethal mix of nerves and adrenaline coursing through your veins. You picked up your pace, desperate to get to your car. You were getting closer and for a moment you really believed you could escape from there without any problems. But then a figure appeared in your field of vision. A familiar figure walking directly towards you.

"Shit!" You exclaimed in a whisper, recognizing Bucky just a few meters away. You immediately turned around and started walking in the opposite direction, praying he hadn't seen you. You scanned your surroundings for an escape route and found an alley a couple of meters away that could help you lose him. You headed towards that place, crossing the street without bothering to look sideways. However, you barely made it a couple of steps before you heard Bucky's voice behind you, shouting for you to stop.

You decided then that it wasn't worth keeping a low profile and started running. You were fast, the serum coursing through your veins giving you superhuman agility. But to your bad luck, Bucky was as fast as you, catching you in a matter of seconds. His hand closed over your arm in a tight grip, trying to force you to turn around. You pushed him off and continued on your way. You really didn't want to fight him, not only because you loved him and hurting him pained you, but also because as soon as you got into physical combat he would realize that you were not a normal person. You had super strength just like him and there weren't many people like you around so you were afraid he would find out about you.

However, when Bucky insisted you had no choice but to respond. He grabbed your arm again, only this time he managed to turn you over. You were thankful for the darkness of the street and for your choice of outfit since it helped you keep your identity a secret even when Bucky was looking you straight in the face. But since he couldn't make out your face under your hood he thought you were someone working for Zemo, so he didn't hesitate to raise his fist and aim it at you. Luckily you were able to dodge it, that punch and the rest of the attacks he tried to throw at you.

Soon the two of you were involved in a kind of dance, a choreography in which he tried to get closer to you while you did your best to avoid him. It was very similar to the routines you followed when you practiced at the gym. So much so that Bucky couldn't help but think that his opponent's moves looked familiar.

He failed to land any of his punches on you. You had excellent reflexes and knew his fighting strategy all too well. You were able to predict his moves before he made them. He had only come close to hitting you once, but at the last moment you were able to stop his fist, capturing it in your hand. Bucky looked at you with surprise, recognizing at that moment that he was probably dealing with someone with powers. Since your secret was already out in the open you took advantage of the grip you had on him to push him with force, effectively throwing him away from you. You tried to measure your strength, using enough to throw him back a couple of feet, but not so much that he immediately realized you were another super soldier, though at this point you didn't know if that would make a difference. Bucky stumbled from the surprising force of your shove and fell on his back, giving you enough time to scurry down the alley and disappear into the darkness of the night.

"Did you see their face?" Sam asked Bucky, concerned to hear about this new mystery person his friend had confronted the night before.

"No, it was dark and they had a hood covering their face." The super soldier replied, struggling to remember every detail of the fight.

"How do we know it wasn't Zemo then?" IYou interjected, hoping that Bucky would not be able to read in your eyes the guilt you felt for hiding things from him.

'It's for the best.'

"Because Zemo is not that strong or fast." Bucky kept to himself the detail that there was something familiar about the way his opponent moved. He didn't see the point in sharing that observation, it would only confuse you as much as it confused him. He decided it would be better for him to investigate that clue on his own. "Where were you last night by the way?"

Bucky's question took you by surprise. You expected to have to explain your absence at that time of night, but you didn't expect him to ask you about it at that moment. You wondered if perhaps he was suspicious of you. "Oh I couldn't sleep so I went for a drive to clear my head." You excused, hoping Bucky would believe you and not continue to press the issue. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Bucky's eyes scanned your expression for longer than necessary. For a moment you thought he had figured out you were lying. After all, he knew you too well and was more than capable of reading your thoughts with a single glance at your face. Your mind began to prepare a bunch of excuses for when he would accuse you of something, determined to keep your activities secret. But to your luck Bucky wasn't able to say anything because Sam interrupted him.

"Is there anything else that you remember about this mystery person?" He intervened before the conversation went off the rails.

"No." Bucky muttered, reluctantly looking away from your face.

"Okay so what are we thinking? Another super soldier? Or maybe someone with powers?"

"I don't know, Sam. If that's the case then are we sure this person is working with Zemo? It doesn't sound like him." You reasoned, hoping to throw them off the trail. It was a valid question, after all, Zemo wasn't the type of person to form alliances with superheroes.

"They were in the same area where a security camera captured Zemo's image. I think it's safe to assume they're working together."

"But he hates superheroes and all the super soldiers are dead." You persisted, praying that you didn't sound so obvious. Your argument was well founded. In the time you had spent with Zemo he had not ceased to mention how much he hated the existence of superheroes. It was one of the reasons you had been so surprised that he had sought your help. So it was logical to find it strange that he was working with one now. You knew that, yet your nerves made you think you were being too obvious.

"That we know of." Sam said. "Maybe the Power Broker has one super soldier running around that we don't know about."

Bucky, who had stood silently staring at you, noticed the way your whole body tensed at the mention of the Power Broker. He thought it was strange, but decided not to say anything about it. "Besides, he needed to escape somehow, right? He could have joined forces with someone he hates out of necessity." He theorized and you wanted to scream at how close he was to the truth. You hadn't helped him escape from prison, but you had joined forces even though you hated each other because it was the only option you had left.

"So we think he's working with the Power Broker now?" You asked, feigning confusion. "How? He was in a prison in Wakanda, far away from Madripoor."

"I don't know. Maybe he made a deal with him before getting caught. Don't forget he was alone for a while before I got to him." Bucky said. As much as he was wrong about the Power Broker connection you thought it was a pretty logical reasoning that answered the riddle of how he had escaped. Well, at least part of it.

"We need to go back and analyze everything that happened during the time we were with Zemo. There's gotta be something we missed that's useful now." Sam instructed and that's exactly what you did for the rest of the day.

You compiled a list of known criminals that you knew had some remote connection to Zemo. Some of them had possible connections to the Power Broker as well, so you focused your attention on them first, tracking them down and analyzing every bit of information you had on them.

It was a difficult job given that they were good at staying in the shadows, avoiding the authorities. Sam had to call several contacts, but by the end of the day you were able to gather enough information on your suspects. You still didn't know if or how any of them had actually helped Zemo—or how they had done it—, but it was a start. Your list had several promising names that you hoped might shed some light on the mechanics behind Zemo's escape.

However, as relevant and important as some of the information was, you couldn't help but feel guilty not telling them what you knew. Sam and Bucky were theorizing about who among all of them could be their mystery person without knowing it was you. You had to fight the urge to confess the truth to them on several occasions, reminding yourself how dangerous it was to confront the Power Broker. You needed to protect them from Sharon and from themselves. You couldn't lose them.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone in your pocket. You picked it up not expecting to find any important notifications. It was too fast for Zemo to communicate with you again. While talking the night before he had implied that he wouldn't need you for the time being. However, the message from an unknown number flashing on your screen told you otherwise.

Change of plans. I need you here in two hours.

Don't be late, my darling.

When you looked up from your phone you met Bucky's eyes, who was analyzing your expression with curiosity. You locked the screen and hid the device back in your pocket defensively even though you knew he wasn't able to see anything at the distance he was at.

"Everything alright?" Bucky asked, drawing the attention of Sam who looked away from the computer to you.

"Yeah, it's just my friend Lizzie... She messaged me saying she needs to talk." You lied, invoking the name of one of the doctors on the Avenger's tower medical team who had become your best friend over the years. "Is it okay if I at least call her to see what she needs?"

"Go talk to her, Y/N." Sam allowed you, believing your little lie. "We can handle this. You have done enough already, you deserve a break."

"Thank you, Sam. I'll be back as soon as I can." You thanked him as you gathered your things. "Keep me posted, okay?"

The last thing you heard before you left the room was Bucky's complaining about how he too deserved a break.

"You need to be more careful!" You exclaimed in a raised tone as soon as you had Zemo in front of you. "A security camera caught your image not far from where we met last night and Bucky almost caught me."

"Did he?" Zemo spoke in a calm tone as if he did not understand the gravity of the situation.

"No, but I had to fight him and now he thinks you're working with the Power Broker."

"Then there's nothing to worry about." The calmness in his voice irritated you to the point of having to clench your fists at the sides of your body to avoid hitting him in the middle of the face.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one that has to lie to him."

Zemo approached you with slow but confident steps. He stopped when he found himself a couple of inches away from you, completely invading your personal space. He looked at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, studying your expression to guess your thoughts. You remained firm in your place, maintaining eye contact to show him that he didn't intimidate you.

"Remember why we are doing this, Y/N." He spoke in a soft but firm tone that radiated authority. "We take down the Power Broker while your lovely husband and best friend stay safe, far away from danger. Your lies are for the greater good."

"I know." You rolled your eyes. "You don't have to do this shit with me, I'm not going to tell them. I'm just saying... It feels wrong to lie to them."

"You'll forget all about it once you return home to your beloved Bucky after defeating Sharon." Zemo offered you a smile before walking away from you, giving you back your personal space. "Now let's get to work."

Zemo explained the mission carefully. Apparently he had learned of the whereabouts of a guy who worked for the Power Broker. He was a low-level criminal, but he believed he had relevant information about Sharon's plans. So your job was to help Zemo get to him. According to what he had told you, the guy had more security than usual, which was not only suspicious but also made your job more difficult. You would have to be very careful if you wanted to get to him, but you were confident that wouldn't be a problem.

"What happens when we get to him?" You asked him while discussing the mission. "How are we gonna make him talk?"

"You worry about getting us inside and leave the rest to me. I'll get him talking." You didn't like the way Zemo said that, but it was too late to question it now. You had gotten yourself into this mess and you had to see it through to the end. Otherwise, the lies you had told Bucky would be for nothing.

Although the situation got you thinking about Sharon's future. So far there had only been talk of 'stopping' the Power Broker without really specifying what that entailed. You had a pretty clear idea of what Zemo meant when he talked about 'stopping' Sharon, though. For him there was a very easy way to deal with people like her, but you were beginning to question if that was really the end you wanted for her. You knew it was the quickest and safest solution, the only one that would assure you of putting an end to her and her plans without any of your loved ones getting hurt. Honestly, you were a little tired of fighting, of losing people, but you weren't sure you had what it took to go through with Zemo's plans. After all, Sharon had been your friend at one time.

You shook your head to clear your mind of those thoughts. You didn't have time to question things now, though you knew it was something you would have to reflect on eventually. For the moment your priority was to fight the Power Broker's men who were protecting the criminal they needed to capture.

Taking out the outside guards hadn't been as difficult as you thought it would be. You insisted on handling it alone since Zemo wanted to kill them in cold blood. You knew they were criminals and probably didn't deserve your sympathy, but letting him just kill them didn't sit well with you. Things got more complicated when they entered the building. There were more guards who weren't able to get out of the way and a fight broke out. The sound of gunshots and punches were all you could hear as you worked with Zemo to make your way to your target. Despite how badly you got along and how much you disapproved of some of his methods, you made a good pair in combat. He had your back and you had his.

You managed to get rid of most of the Power Broker's men in a matter of seconds. You thought you had a good chance of winning the battle and getting to the target before he managed to escape. But then a door opened and from the other side appeared Sam and Bucky, who were immediately attacked by the thugs. Amidst the chaos of the fight they were able to find you in the sea of people. Your eyes—which luckily for you were covered by your outfit— focused on Bucky's for a moment, before turning to Zemo.

"We need to go. Now!" You exclaimed in the middle of the fight, pushing Zemo towards the exit.

"No! We need to get to him!" He resisted, pulling out a gun and shooting a man who was approaching to attack you from behind. "We can use them as a distraction." He added, referring to Sam and Bucky fighting the Power Broker's men. You rolled your eyes, irritated with Zemo, and used your strength to push him to safety, away from the fight and the intense gaze of your friends.

"Sam and Bucky are here for you, not him. They'll get to you before we have the chance to find this dude." You explained, grabbing Zemo by the shoulders in the hope of bringing him to his senses. "We need to leave." You didn't wait to hear his protests, dragging him away from the fight in search of a way out.

The place was a hellhole, nothing more than a dirty old warehouse in the middle of nowhere. However, you were surprised to walk through a door and find an area that functioned as a parking lot for a variety of cars. You instructed Zemo to get into the vehicle closest to you and start it while you watched the door, making sure no one had followed you there. The plan was to use it to escape from there as quickly as possible, more concerned about not getting caught than completing the mission. You would find other opportunities to get information about the Power Broker as long as you managed to get out of there unharmed.

Although apparently luck was not on your side that day—was it ever?—, because before you could do anything, Bucky entered the room. He shouted for you to stop while pointing the gun he held in his hands at you. You knew that the reasonable thing to do was to obey his orders, but you still tried to escape. However, when Bucky fired into the air you froze in place, realizing the seriousness of the situation.

You quickly came to the conclusion that you had no escape. Bucky had caught you and was ready to shoot you to prevent you from escaping again. If you wanted to save yours and Zemo's life, you had no choice but to surrender and confess the truth.

Putting your hands up in the air, you slowly turned around to face Bucky. He was pointing his gun at you, watching you menacingly. It was strange to look into his eyes and not find the love and warmth you always saw in them. You hated it. You hated to be seen as a criminal, an enemy when you weren't one. You were his wife, the love of his life, and you were teaming up with Zemo to protect him. You were doing this for love, so why did Bucky seem so hurt when he recognized your voice?

It was then that you realized what a big mistake you had made.

"Don't shoot!" You warned, seeing the confusion on Bucky's face at the sound of your voice. You brought your hands up to your hood, slowly pulling it back to expose your face to your husband. He looked at you with a mixture of shock, confusion and betrayal in his eyes. Shame came over you, settling in your stomach in the form of a knot. You wanted to look away, the pain in Bucky's eyes was almost impossible to bear, but you fought to maintain eye contact. It was the least you could do at that moment.

"Y/N... W-what are you doing here with him?" Bucky asked, pointing his gun at Zemo, who watched the scene silently, waiting for the right moment to escape.

"Bucky..." You began in a soft tone, looking for the right words to explain the situation you had gotten yourself into. "This is not what it looks like. I-"

"Not what it looks like?" He interrupted you, repeating your words in disbelief. "So you are not helping Zemo right now? Because that's exactly what it looks like to me."

"I am helping Zemo." You confessed with a sigh, finding no point in continuing to lie. "But it's not what it looks like, okay? If you let me explain..."

"We've been looking for him and all this time you knew where he was and you didn't tell us!"

"No no no" you repeated, desperate to make Bucky understand the reasons behind your actions. You approached him taking a couple of steps in his direction, and he instinctively pointed his gun at you. You stopped for a second, your heart breaking as you realized he saw you as a threat at that moment. You saw the surprise in his eyes as well and decided to continue walking towards him, confident that he wouldn't hurt you. Once in front of him, you placed your hands on his gun to encourage him to lower it.

"Zemo contacted me yesterday and I went to see him, but it's not what you think." You explained once he lowered the gun.

"So it was you last night." It wasn't a question, but you nodded anyway. "Why? Why would you do this? Why wouldn't you tell me the truth?" Bucky's voice sounded broken and you knew he was holding back tears. The knot in your stomach tightened and a wave of guilt washed over you.

"I'm sorry, Buck. It's complicated. I didn't mean to lie to you at first but I just-"

"Why would you choose to work with him? Why didn't you tell me?" He interrupted you. It was as if he was thinking out loud, as if his brain had forgotten how to use his inner voice. "Is he trying to bring back the Winter Soldier? Is that why you were being so secretive about this?" Bucky knew that the accusation was far-fetched, but he wasn't thinking straight and his brain seemed to have lost its filter.

"What? No!" You were shocked by his words, hurt that even for a moment he was capable of considering the idea that you could do such a thing to him. You had seen him suffer for the Winter Soldier. You still did when at night the memories of his past haunted him in the form of nightmares. You had watched him fight for his freedom from Hydra's control, sticking with him through every part of the process. Now that he was finally free you would never think of imprisoning him like that again. "Bucky I would never..."

"Then why?!" He exclaimed, raising his voice. He was not angry, but confused and hurt. His eyes begged you for an explanation that made sense and you found no strength in your heart to keep hiding the truth from him.

"Sharon is the Power Broker." You let out with a sigh of defeat, watching Bucky's expression contract with confusion. "It's true. I didn't want to believe it at first, but it's true. Zemo contacted me because he needs my help to stop her and I agreed to work with him because I didn't want to lose you." You ended up with a broken voice, tears threatening to escape your eyes.

"What?" Bucky looked at you with a frown although both his voice and expression were much softer than mere seconds ago.

"She's dangerous, Bucky. All those who confronted her ended up dead. And now that she's back home she's more powerful than she has ever been. I didn't tell you any of this because I didn't want to drag you and Sam into this... because I couldn't bear the thought of losing someone else... of losing you."

"Hey, you're not gonna lose me." Bucky mumbled, taking your face in his hands and wiping the tears that fell down your cheeks with his thumbs. "You're not gonna lose me, doll. I'm right here. I'm always going to be right here by your side." His voice was soft, trying to inspire calmness through tone, but it only made a new wave of tears roll down your cheeks. You cried because the assurance in his voice comforted you but also because you knew they were empty promises. No one's life was guaranteed and Bucky, just like anyone else, could die at any moment, leaving you alone in an empty world without his smile.

"I know lying to you was wrong and I know I probably let Zemo get inside my head, but I couldn't stop thinking about you getting hurt. I accepted his offer because I thought it was going to be easier working with him since I don't care if he lives or dies." You explained your reasoning between sobs and sniffles. "I know I was wrong and I'm sorry. But I did it to protect you because I love you, Buck. And I could never do anything to hurt you. Never." You insisted, referring to the accusations he had made minutes before.

"Shit, doll. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say those things. I know you would never hurt me. I just... I wasn't thinking straight." Bucky apologized, ashamed that he was capable of insinuating something so horrible. He knew you loved him, knew you wanted nothing more than his happiness. You had stood by him in his worst times, supported him even when he wasn't sure he deserved it. You were the love of his life and he didn't understand how he had let his mind lead him to think something so horrible. "You know that Zemo gets into my head. I saw him and I saw you and my brain just stopped working."

"It's okay, I'm not mad." You told him with a weak smile, resting your hands over his hands that still rested delicately on your cheeks. "I lied to you and you had all the rights to be upset. I just wanted to make sure you knew I could never do something like that to you. I love you with all my heart, Bucky. You are my family, my home. I want nothing more than your happiness and wellbeing."

"I know, doll. I love you too. So, so much. I can't even put it into words." He confessed, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours. It was such a simple but intimate gesture that it sent a wave of comforting warmth through your body. "I'm sorry, doll." He whispered against your lips.

"I'm sorry too." You responded before closing the short distance between you, bringing your lips together in a delicate kiss. Bucky reciprocated immediately, using his grip on your cheeks to tilt your face to deepen the kiss further, effectively showing you how sorry he was. You did your best to follow his lead, hoping that he too would be able to feel everything you felt for him on your lips.

The world around you ceased to exist for a moment. Zemo, the Power Broker and all your problems disappeared from your mind as you melted in the arms of the love of your life, your soulmate. In that moment you were reminded once again that all you needed to be okay was to have Bucky by your side. He was your rock, your lifeline, the only one whose mere presence was able to clear the fog that clouded your mind and make the sun come out. He was your everything, your whole life. You decided at that moment that you would never again let anything come between you, whether it was Zemo, the Power Broker or death itself.

"Thank you for your help, Bucky. I couldn't have done it without you."Sam's irritated voice interrupted you, forcing you to pull away. When you turned around you noticed that he was accompanied by Zemo, who was handcuffed. You looked at him in confusion, wondering when he had gotten out of there and how he had managed to do so without alerting you. "What is she doing here?"

You and Bucky shared a look. He nodded his head slightly, encouraging you to speak. You let out a long sigh before returning your gaze to your friend's confused face. It was time to come clean.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x fem reader #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel imagine

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stannienight · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, first of all, i love your writing is very good ❤️ And second i don't know how to request so this is my first time.

Anyways, i'm writing a wattpad about Saiki x a deaf reader who has bakery and Saiki visits her every day to talk, and eventually he falls in love with her but he doesn't want to accept it, you know, bc he is a tsundere xd

The thing is i blocked and i don't know how to make Saiki to confesses to her without getting out of character. So could you make a oneshot him confessing to her and how she reacts about it bc it's the first time someone say that to her?

Plss~ you would help me a lot. (Srry if my english is bad, i speak spanish)

hi! i'm slow as hell, but let me just say that i love this idea! of a deaf reader x saiki, i mean, i think that's really cute, and i'd love it if you could send me the link to the fic once you're done writing it <3 here's your request!

for plot purposes, saiki can't hear others' thoughts with the germanium ring on, but can transmit his own!

she/her pronouns 1.2k fluff!

saiki k x deaf! reader (confession)

The bakery feels heavenly to him as he opens the door for the hundredth time- the heady scent of fresh bread and cookies invades his senses, and he stands in the doorway for a second, reveling in it.

Saiki!

Her familiar voice stands out from the rest in his mind. Maybe her mind-voice is just louder, to compensate for lack of an actual proper speaking skill. It's cheery, and immediately followed by an onslaught of more thoughts.

I'm so glad he's here. Seeing him feels strangely nice. Shit, he can probably hear what I'm thinking, right?

Saiki had had to come clear to her about his psychic status, because there was no taking back a thought he had already transmitted. Needless to say, she'd felt shocked out of her senses the first time she heard him in her brain, and for a fleeting second she thought her hearing had come back. Alas, it was not so- but she was glad to have someone she could talk to without fear of embarrassing herself.

He can't stop himself from giving her a small smile as he waves. She ushers him over quickly, mirroring the same smile.

Same as always? she asks. Saiki nods. Usually, he'd engage in more conversation, because he knows how special those moments of talking are to her- but today is different. Today, he's here for a different reason.

Can you take a break? Saiki asks, as she's midway through making his coffee jelly. She looks at him, eyes wide.

Is something the matter?

I just wanted to tell you something. Sort of important. He's trying his best to stay calm, but he has this overwhelming feeling of something he has not felt in a long time- nervousness.

She smiles and nods. Find a seat, I'll be over in a bit. She adds a bit more herself, and he can't help but listen. I wonder what it is. I hope he's not going to stop coming here or anything.

Stop! Hah, he wants to scoff. As if he'd ever stop coming to the bakery with the loveliest coffee jelly in the world, and an unnecessarily lovely owner too. That brings him back to his initial crisis, and he wonders why the hell he's doing this. He could just use his mind control and emerge on the victorious side of things, but... he wanted her to answer for herself. Using mind control still amounts to selfish use.

He takes an inconspicuous seat in the corner, with only two seats, and thinks oh no, this looks like a date, this looks like I've asked her on a date. Then he realises that's exactly what he's there for. His mind isn't working properly- and that's absolutely terrifying.

She walks over in a few minutes, coffee jelly in hand, and puts it in front of him before taking a seat.

I only have five minutes, so make it quick, okay?

He nods, and takes something out of his pocket. She eyes it curiously- it's some sort of silver ring, and he slips it onto his hand.

I can't hear what you're thinking anymore, he transmits. I just want to say something, and I'll take the ring off when you want me to.

She looks stunned, but Saiki has no idea what she's thinking. Before he accidentally blows something up out of nervousness, Saiki takes a deep breath, and tries to gather his words.

I like you. Not only because you make great coffee jelly, but that's also a very good plus point. But I like you. The feeling when I talk to you doesn't go away for several hours after. And I want to do the whole dating thing. I don't know how it works, but I want to do it with you. I've never liked someone before, so I might be weird and stuff. But it's how it is. I don't care if you return these feelings or not. Actually, I do care, obviously. But I won't like, go batshit crazy on you and commit arson or something if you refuse. Your coffee jelly is too good for that.

And then he forces himself to stop, because he's already thought too much. His eyes are trained firmly on his own hands, which rest on his knees. He feels like evaporating. He would do it, if he didn't want to know what she was thinking. He runs through everything he just said in his mind twenty times, trying to recall if he said anything embarrassing, but apart from the arson thing, he reckoned it was a pretty honest confession, if not very romantic.

He startles when he feels a tap on his shoulder, not used to being touched out of nowhere. She's looking at him, and he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He doesn't know what she's thinking, has absolutely zero clue. He's so used to just knowing what people are thinking that he has no idea how to understand them based off their expressions. She looks a bit red, crap, doesn't that mean she's embarrassed? Maybe she doesn't want to reject me in front of everyone else. I should've done this in private. She points to the ring on his hand.

Should I take it off? Saiki asks.

She nods.

So he does, and at once he is assaulted by multiple thoughts of everyone around him, and he takes a few seconds to drown them out. Her voice rises above them all.

No one's ever said that to me before.

I'm sorry? Saiki replies, trying to have normal responses and not mess this up for himself.

I mean, no one's ever confessed to me. It's sort of surreal, you know? I see it happen in all these TV shows and stuff, but I never thought it would happen to me, because... you know...

Sorry if I embarrassed you.

He's looking away, trying to keep the temperature down in his body, and his attention is so focused on using his pyrokinesis that he can't hear any of her unintentional thoughts, only the ones she intends to transmit, so he still has no idea where this is going.

You did not embarrass me. I like you as well. I mean... if I have to be honest, I think we both know that I don't have a lot of choices. She smiles sadly. But if I did have a lot of choices... I think I'd still choose you.

This makes Saiki so flustered that he actually does end up exploding a cup a few tables away- thankfully it is empty, and no one is harmed. She looks in that direction sharply.

Saiki-san? You okay?

Areyousayingyes? he asks, trying not to burst. This new feeling is uncanny.

She chuckles slightly. Yes. I would like to date you.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the swelling feeling in his chest, and extends his hand across the table. Thank you. She places her own in it tentatively, and Saiki tries not to accidentally blow it up out of nerves.

"Excuse me, can someone take my order?" someone calls out from somewhere, and Y/n stands up- Saiki has a right mind to teleport said customer outside, but he restrains himself.

I have to go now, okay? But I'm like... free, after work? If you want to go on a date? She's gone, if possible, even redder.

Okay. Saiki doesn't even want to imagine what he's looking like right now. Definitely not his usual stone-face. I'll come here.

For me or more coffee jelly? she asks jokingly, as she begins walking away.

Both. I'll see you later. He takes his coffee jelly in hand and turns around a corner to teleport home, unable to keep the ridiculous smile off his face. Maybe Chiyo was onto something about love.

that’s all, i hope it was okay <3

send me asks for hcs, oneshots, or anything in general, even if it’s unrelated to anime or writing!! saiki k and haikyu for requests <333

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mcmansionhell · 5 years ago

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Coronagrifting: A Design Phenomenon

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled content to bring you a critical essay on the design world. I promise you that this will also be funny.

This morning, the design website Dezeen tweeted a link to one of its articles, depicting a plexiglass coronavirus shield that could be suspended above dining areas, with the caption “Reader comment: ‘Dezeen, please stop promoting this stupidity.’”

This, of course, filled many design people, including myself, with a kind of malicious glee. The tweet seemed to show that the website’s editorial (or at least social media) staff retained within themselves a scintilla of self-awareness regarding the spread a new kind of virus in its own right: cheap mockups of COVID-related design “solutions” filling the endlessly scrollable feeds of PR-beholden design websites such as Dezeen, ArchDaily, and designboom. I call this phenomenon: Coronagrifting.

I’ll go into detail about what I mean by this, but first, I would like to presenet some (highly condensed) history.

From Paper Architecture to PR-chitecture

Back in the headier days of architecture in the 1960s and 70s, a number of architectural avant gardes (such as Superstudio and Archizoom in Italy and Archigram in the UK) ceased producing, well, buildings, in favor of what critics came to regard as “paper architecture.” This “paper architecture” included everything from sprawling diagrams of megastructures, including cities that “walked” or “never stopped” - to playfully erotic collages involving Chicago’s Marina City. Occasionally, these theoretical and aesthetic explorations were accompanied by real-world productions of “anti-design” furniture that may or may not have involved foam fingers.

Archigram’s Walking City (1964). Source.

Paper architecture, of course, still exists, but its original radical, critical, playful, (and, yes, even erotic) elements were shed when the last of the ultra-modernists were swallowed up by the emerging aesthetic hegemony of Postmodernism (which was much less invested in theoretical and aesthetic futurism) in the early 1980s. What remained were merely images, the production and consumption of which has only increased as the design world shifted away from print and towards the rapidly produced, easily digestible content of the internet and social media.

Architect Bjarke Ingels’s “Oceanix” - a mockup of an ecomodernist, luxury city designed in response to rising sea levels from climate change. The city will never be built, and its critical interrogation amounts only to “city with solar panels that floats bc climate change is Serious” - but it did get Ingels and his firm, BIG, a TED talk and circulation on all of the hottest blogs and websites. Meanwhile, Ingels has been in business talks with the right-wing climate change denialist president of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro. (Image via designboom)

Design websites are increasingly dominated by text and mockups from the desks of a firm’s public relations departments, facilitating a transition from the paper-architecture-imaginary to what I have begun calling “PR-chitecture.” In short, PR-chitecture is architecture and design content that has been dreamed up from scratch to look good on instagram feeds or, more simply, for clicks. It is only within this substance-less, critically lapsed media landscape that Coronagrifting can prosper.

Coronagrifting: An Evolution

As of this writing, the two greatest offenders of Coronagrifting are Dezeen, which has devoted an entire section of its website to the virus (itself offering twelve pages of content since February alone) and designboom, whose coronavirus tag contains no fewer than 159 articles.

Certainly, a small handful of these stories demonstrate useful solutions to COVID-related problems (such as this one from designboom about a student who created a mask prototype that would allow D/deaf and hard of hearing people to read lips) most of the prototypes and the articles about them are, for a lack of a better word, insipid.

But where, you may ask, did it all start?

One of the easiest (and, therefore, one of the earliest) Coronagrifts involves “new innovative, health-centric designs tackling problems at the intersection of wearables and personal mobility,” which is PR-chitecture speak for “body shields and masks.”

Wearables and Post-ables

The first example came from Chinese architect Sun Dayong, back at the end of February 2020, when the virus was still isolated in China. Dayong submitted to Dezeen a prototype of a full mask and body-shield that “would protect a wearer during a coronavirus outbreak by using UV light to sterilise itself.” The project was titled “Be a Bat Man.” No, I am not making this up.

Screenshot of Dayong’s “Be a Batman” as seen on the Dezeen website.

Soon after, every artist, architect, designer, and sharp-eyed PR rep at firms and companies only tangentially related to design realized that, with the small investment of a Photoshop mockup and some B-minus marketing text, they too could end up on the front page of these websites boasting a large social media following and an air of legitimacy in the field.

By April, companies like Apple and Nike were promising the use of existing facilities for producing or supplying an arms race’s worth of slick-tech face coverings. Starchitecture’s perennial PR-churners like Foster + Partners and Bjarke Ingels were repping “3D-printed face shields”, while other, lesser firms promised wearable vaporware like “grapheme filters,” branded “skincare LED masks for encouraging self-development” and “solar powered bubble shields.”

While the mask Coronagrift continues to this day, the Coronagrifting phenomenon had, by early March, moved to other domains of design.

Consider the barrage of asinine PR fluff that is the “Public Service Announcement” and by Public Service Announcement, I mean “A Designer Has Done Something Cute to Capitalize on Information Meant to Save Lives.”

Some of the earliest offenders include cutesy posters featuring flags in the shape of houses, ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home;” a designer building a pyramid out of pillows ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home”; and Banksy making “lockdown artwork” that involved covering his bathroom in images of rats ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home.”

Lol. Screenshot from Dezeen.

You may be asking, “What’s the harm in all this, really, if it projects a good message?” And the answer is that people are plenty well encouraged to stay home due to the rampant spread of a deadly virus at the urging of the world’s health authorities, and that these tone-deaf art world creeps are using such a crisis for shameless self promotion and the generation of clicks and income, while providing little to no material benefit to those at risk and on the frontlines.

Of course, like the mask coronagrift, the Public Service Announcement coronagrift continues to this very day.

The final iteration of Post-able and Wearable Coronagrifting genres are what I call “Passive Aggressive Social Distancing Initiatives” or PASDIs. Many of the first PASDIs were themselves PSAs and art grifts, my favorite of which being the designboom post titled “social distancing applied to iconic album covers like the beatle’s abbey road.” As you can see, we’re dealing with extremely deep stuff here.

However, an even earlier and, in many ways more prescient and lucrative grift involves “social distancing wearables.” This can easily be summarized by the first example of this phenomenon, published March 19th, 2020 on designboom:

Never wasting a single moment to capitalize on collective despair, all manner of brands have seized on the social distancing wearable trend, which, again, can best be seen in the last example of the phenomenon, published May 22nd, 2020 on designboom:

We truly, truly live in Hell.

Which brings us, of course, to living.

“Architectural Interventions” for a “Post-COVID World”

As soon as it became clear around late March and early April that the coronavirus (and its implications) would be sticking around longer than a few months, the architectural solutions to the problem came pouring in. These, like the virus itself, started at the scale of the individual and have since grown to the scale of the city. (Whether or not they will soon encompass the entire world remains to be seen.)

The architectural Coronagrift began with accessories (like the designboom article about 3D-printed door-openers that enable one to open a door with one’s elbow, and the Dezeen article about a different 3D-printed door-opener that enables one to open a door with one’s elbow) which, in turn, evolved into “work from home” furniture (”Stykka designs cardboard #StayTheF***Home Desk for people working from home during self-isolation”) which, in turn, evolved into pop-up vaporware architecture for first responders (”opposite office proposes to turn berlin's brandenburg airport into COVID-19 'superhospital'”), which, in turn evolved into proposals for entire buildings (”studio prototype designs prefabricated 'vital house' to combat COVID-19″); which, finally, in turn evolved into “urban solutions” aimed at changing the city itself (a great article summarizing and criticizing said urban solutions was recently written by Curbed’s Alissa Walker).

There is something truly chilling about an architecture firm, in order to profit from attention seized by a global pandemic, logging on to their computers, opening photoshop, and drafting up some lazy, ineffectual, unsanitary mockup featuring figures in hazmat suits carrying a dying patient (macabrely set in an unfinished airport construction site) as a real, tangible solution to the problem of overcrowded hospitals; submitting it to their PR desk for copy, and sending it out to blogs and websites for clicks, knowing full well that the sole purpose of doing so consists of the hope that maybe someone with lots of money looking to commission health-related interiors will remember that one time there was a glossy airport hospital rendering on designboom and hire them.

Enough, already.

Frankly, after an endless barrage of cyberpunk mask designs, social distancing burger king crowns, foot-triggered crosswalk beg buttons that completely ignore accessibility concerns such as those of wheelchair users, cutesy “stay home uwu” projects from well-to-do art celebrities (who are certainly not suffering too greatly from the economic ramifications of this pandemic), I, like the reader featured in the Dezeen Tweet at the beginning of this post, have simply had enough of this bullshit.

What’s most astounding to me about all of this (but especially about #brand crap like the burger king crowns) is that it is taken completely seriously by design establishments that, despite being under the purview of PR firms, should frankly know better. I’m sure that Bjarke Ingels and Burger King aren’t nearly as affected by the pandemic as those who have lost money, jobs, stability, homes, and even their lives at the hands of COVID-19 and the criminally inept national and international response to it. On the other hand, I’m sure that architects and designers are hard up for cash at a time when nobody is building and buying anything, and, as a result, many see resulting to PR-chitecture as one of the only solutions to financial problems.

However, I’m also extremely sure that there are interventions that can be made at the social, political, and organizational level, such as campaigning for paid sick leave, organizing against layoffs and for decent severance or an expansion of public assistance, or generally fighting the rapidly accelerating encroachment of work into all aspects of everyday life – that would bring much more good and, dare I say, progress into the world than a cardboard desk captioned with the hashtag #StaytheF***Home.

Hence, I’ve spent most of my Saturday penning this article on my blog, McMansion Hell. I’ve chosen to run this here because I myself have lost work as a freelance writer, and the gutting of publications down to a handful of editors means that, were I to publish this story on another platform, it would have resulted in at least a few more weeks worth of inflatable, wearable, plexiglass-laden Coronagrifting, something my sanity simply can no longer withstand.

So please, Dezeen, designboom, others – I love that you keep daily tabs on what architects and designers are up to, a resource myself and other critics and design writers find invaluable – however, I am begging, begging you to start having some discretion with regards to the proposals submitted to you as “news” or “solutions” by brands and firms, and the cynical, ulterior motives behind them. If you’re looking for a guide on how to screen such content, please scroll up to the beginning of this page.

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If you enjoyed this article, please consider subscribing to my Patreon, as I didn’t get paid to write it.

#architecture #design #coronavirus #dezeen #designboom #capitalism

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baepsaesbae · 4 years ago

Text

Do You Love Me, Baby?

Pairing— Any member x female reader

Genre— SMUT, established relationship, BTS’ pov, a hint of fluff if you squint and close one eye

Warnings— Dom!BTS, sub!reader, face fucking, oral sex (m and f), mild bondage, explicit rough unprotected sex please stay safe irl, choking

Word Count— ~2.8k

Summary— A member of your choosing can’t wait to reunite with you again after being separated for so long.

A/N— This is different from what I normally post. This fic is in FIRST PERSON from the pov of a member of your choosing. Honestly, it doesn’t even have to be a BTS member, it can be anyone you want (but bc this is a BTS writing blog, that’s how I’m describing it for simplicity’s sake). Please let me know what you think! Much love guys~

It has been three months. Three excruciating months of torment.

In three months, I have not smelled or tasted an ounce of sweet heaven-sent pussy. Nevertheless, here I am. My girlfriend dropped me off at the airport 3 months ago and each day since has been filled with daydreams of making her irresponsibly scream and moan into my ear. A revolution has taken place in my mind. I have come to the realization that this pussy is the one that will take me to the end game. Little by little I scratch and claw back to my sanity. Lick by lick, thrust by thrust, my dreams show me how much I yearn for my baby’s pussy. Until one day I had enough, and I would take no more. I finally cleared my schedule to spend time with my babygirl. I only had one objective: fucking my girlfriend senseless. The time was nearing.

See, the fun part of my relationship is that we both share the same goal. We want to pleasure each other in any way possible. This allows for more opportunities in a lot of situations. A party where everyone is outside? Easy quickie in the restroom. A family party in the house? Easy quickie in the restroom. A hotel room with insulated walls? Easy repeated thrusts into the dome of her clit while my dick rims the outside of her pussy. Regardless, I am having rough sex with my bratty babygirl.

Would you look at that, I just checked into a hotel room with insulated walls nothing but about five minutes away from her house. I had no other plans.

“Hey baby, I’m here,” I texted.

“Ohh?” she texted back.

“I can come pick you up,” I offered.

“No! I’ll just meet you there” she refuted.

My baby wanted to make sure she was ready; she knew what she was getting herself into.

“Give me 10 minutes,” she followed up

I took those ten minutes to do push-ups and sit-ups to make sure my body was in pristine shape for her. Then the time finally came.

“Baby !! I’m here!” she messaged.

I rushed to the elevator pressing the button as fast as could. I was tapping my foot as the elevator slowly sunk its way down to the bottom floor. She was sitting outside of the back entrance of the hotel waiting for me to open the door. I met her with the biggest hug followed by a sincere kiss on her soft lips. That initial kiss sent me into a remedial state of recollecting all those nights we shared. Never in my life did I think I would be so in love, yet I stood there, shocked.

“Baby… do you want to go back to your room?” she brought me back to reality.

“Let’s go,” I responded, taking her hand in mine.

Both of us were wound up, ready to release our hormonal excitement onto each other, but we both acted like nothing was any different. As if we’ve been seeing each other every day.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“I’ve been good, you?” she answered quickly.

“Oh, you know just chillin,” I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Ah...” her voice trailed off.

I was standing there edging and riding the thin line of sanity looking at the hottest woman on earth positioning herself next to me. The only thing holding us back was this elevator, until I became aware of that. I rushed to meet her next word with my lips and pinned her against the elevator wall. I quickly checked to see if there was a camera in the elevator, but to our luck there was not. I began running one of my hands through her hair, while the other got a firm grip onto one of her big bountiful butt cheeks. We had a long way to go up to the fiftieth floor, and I wanted to use every ounce of time I had. My hand slowly rode down breaking into her slit, she looked at me deep into my eyes and nodded to keep going. I placed my left index finger onto her clit and began rubbing. She kept removing her lips from mine to brace for the impact on each pass-over.

“Baby, let’s go to the room,” she said impatiently as we got to my floor.

We sped out of the elevator, jogging our minds to figure out whether to go left or right. Time was of essence, every second we wasted was a second in which I was not inside of her. Even through our horny daze we chose the correct direction. I found myself at my door swiping with haste, only to find patience as my true virtue. After the fifth time and finally slowing down the door unlocked.

The immediate second the door slammed shut I proceeded to slam her against that same door and put my hand down her pants again. Slowly rubbing against her clit, I made her jolt in a random direction with each circle. She pushed me off.

“Get onto the bed,” she winked.

She walked into the bathroom while I laid myself onto the bed ready to be led astray. She walked out wearing nothing but a lacy lingerie set she had been saving for me. She slowly toppled me with a daring intent in her eyes. I brought both of my hands to land firmly on the cheeks behind her body. She moaned with excitement.

“Come here,” I growled as I wrapped my arms around her back and brought her lips closer to mine.

I missed her. I missed her soft voice comforting me when I felt the loneliest. I missed her wet pussy wrapped around my cock. But how could I miss her when she was right here on top of me? I dug my face into her chest giving attention to each nipple. She let out small yelps when I licked them the right way, and I continued to do so over and over. I moved my hands lower and lower until I reached her slit once again. I ran my right hand under her lingerie to dig into her wet pussy, reminding me of how much she wanted me. This only invigorated me to seize the moment and take action. I grabbed her by the waist and used my strength to pull myself up and over placing myself on top.

“Did you miss me baby?” I questioned.

“Yes, of course,” she mewled.

I began to place my lips on her neck as she responded. I kissed every inch until I started to slowly run my tongue across the side of her neck.

“Is this what you’ve been waiting for?” I playfully bit her ear and whispered.

I gradually kissed my way down to her breasts to bring attention to them again. I love playing with her breasts. She sometimes gets self conscious of them, but they bring me joy, especially when they’re right in front of my face. All the while, I’m bringing my right hand down in between her legs to scout ahead. I feel a waterfall pour onto my finger and realize my descent was about to begin. Inch by inch my lips walk downwards to find themselves in between her legs and I halt.

“Look at me,” I demanded.

She never liked looking at me when I went down on her, but I wanted her to. As of lately I would wait for her to make eye contact with me to begin putting my tongue on her juicy slit. She had no other choice, if she wanted to go forward, she had to obey. I slid the lingerie over enough to expose her to me. She looked me in the eyes and I ran my tongue up her lips. I would stop each time she would look away, forcing her to heed to my wishes. I landed my tongue onto her clit and repeatedly flicked my way into hearing her whimper in enjoyment. The cards were dealt, there was nothing she could do. She was playing into my hand, and that’s how it would be. I quickly began rubbing my left index finger against her lips while I ate her clit out. Soon I inserted my finger rubbing against her top wall causing her moan. I dug further and curved my finger upwards to push against the reverse side of her clit causing her to escalate her moans. She became wet enough to allow me to insert my middle finger and continue to press up against her clit.

They say three is the magic number, and three fingers is all my baby needs. Once my fingers were drenched in her juice I slammed three of my fingers into her with the intention of finishing her off. I began to thrust my hand upwards and outwards to hone in on her g-spot while I slid my tongue directly on her clit with aggression.

“Go faster,” she fit in between her breaths.

I jammed my fingers faster and faster pushing her to her limits while she screamed and yelled, “Keep going baby!”

Over and over.

“Fuck!”

Over and over, faster and faster.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop!”

Each motion pushed more of the consequences onto the bed sheets, but nothing was going to stop me from finishing her. I slid my tongue up and down her clit while I struck her g-spot with rhythmic precision gradually increasing the speed. Increasing the severity of the moans, increasing the decibels in the room, increasing the intensity of her orgasm until she came crashing down all over my hand. She was shaking.

She had not had enough, she craved more. She wanted more of me, she wanted all of me inside of her.

“Baby, I want you to fuck me.”

I have been waiting for this. I ripped my pants off and began stroking my hard-throbbing cock against her clit.

“Why are you teasing me,” she said in a bratty tone.

“Beg,” I said. “Beg.”

“Hmph,” she whimpered.

“Beg,” I held my ground.

“Baaaaby,” she panted in a bratty tone once again.

“Beg for me baby,” I instructed softly while still teasing her entrance.

“Fuck me baby, I want all of you inside of me, please!”

I put the tip right on her opening and looked my baby in the eyes. I slowly add weight into the stroke and place the head of my cock inside of her trembling pussy arriving at the feeling of bliss and serenity. The moment that I have been waiting for. The soft plush alluring walls that tempt and mock me. I push forward and her inner walls and my cock meet as if two old friends catch up on forgotten memories. Forward and inward, my room receives a welcoming moan from me. I take this time to lean in.

“I love you baby.”

She was too caught up in my soft deep strokes to respond. I pushed her legs as far outwards as her flexibility would allow and gained grip on my feet like dropping an anchor. I proceeded to pound my dick downwards producing sloppy wet noises from her pussy.

“Do you love me?”

She was too preoccupied with trying to think straight to be able to respond. So, I took a hand off one of her legs and started rubbing my thumb on her clit as a punishment.

“Baby, do you love me?”

Still no response. Only whimpers.

I removed the other hand from her leg and gently placed it around her throat. I continued to synchronize my thrusts with the motion of my thumb. I got close to her face.

“Baby, do you love me?” I repeated.

I was not going to give her a chance to respond until I felt like she deserved it. Each thrust prevented her from answering my question. I used this opportunity to punish her again. I slowly removed my cock from her while pushing her arms into the bed and bringing my body forward onto her.

“Let me give you a reason not to speak.”

I brought my cock up to her lips and she opened her mouth like the good girl that she was. I pushed myself down her throat. She couldn’t take all of me. Yet, I pushed myself further and further through her wet mouth still asking the question.

“Do you love me, baby?”

Knowing well that she could not respond, I still wanted to punish her. I reached over to my drawer and grabbed a red ribbon. I flipped my baby over and tied her hands behind her back. I then took my cock and eased in from behind her. This was her favorite position and she was about to be reminded why. I railed her with furious strokes causing a mess to spew all over the bed, but nothing was going to stop me.

“Fuck baby fuck,” she yelled.

I kept pivoting my dick further down into her wall causing both parties to get dangerously drenched. She screamed and yelled louder and for more to hear.

“Oh my fuck, keep going!”

I grabbed her by her tied up hands and pulled her closer. I used my other hand to wrap around her throat and fucked her as hard as I could.

“Baby right there! Don’t stop!”

I was not going to stop.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

I slammed her head back down onto the bed and used my arms to push her shoulders deep into the mattress. Each pulverization sent a shockwave through her ass cheeks, ricocheting back to me only to meet the next crushing blow. Incomprehensible sounds came muffled from her mouth as it was dug into the sheets. More and more liquid came splashing out onto the bed. More and more screams would grace my ear like soothing music. Our moans were our duet, and this bed was our stage. We had been putting on a spectacular piece, but she was the star of the show. I laid every inch of myself into her at a decelerating pace. Her whole body began quivering on my cock as she released herself all over me. She became numb as I slowly eased her off her orgasm and fell flat onto the bed. With whatever strength she had left.

“Your turn. Lay down baby,” she commanded.

I did what she asked but she was still tied. From under her, I grabbed her by the ponytail I made with my hands and slowly pushed her head down onto my dick. Up and down, up and down, as she gagged and choked on me.

“Baby, can I cum in your mouth?” I pleaded.

“Mhm” she mumbled with me inside of her throat.

I relentlessly push her deep down on my cock with rapid succession forcing her saliva to spread over every inch. I wanted something that I still hadn’t gotten. I pulled her head off my cock.

“Do you love me baby?” I asked one last time.

“I love you, darling” she said while trying to catch her breath.

I then threw her head back onto my tip and unrelentingly thrust my cock into her mouth until I came down her wet throat. I pulled her hair back to make her look at me while she swallowed my seed. I took my hand off her head, but she continued to stroke my dick with her lips and ran her tongue around my head trying to tease me. When she was done I got up, untied her, and pulled her close to give her a big kiss.

She is the love of my life, she makes me happy, and she loves me to death. She laid her head on my chest and I began to stroke her hair. We started to share our adventures from the past three months filled with laughter and smiles from ear to ear. I couldn’t help myself but to think “I’m going to marry this woman one day.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #ksmutclub #jimin smut #bts pov #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #jhope smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #jin smut #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe) words: 3.5k

a/n: ah the sweet sweet smell of mutual pining. also 3 more chapters are planned, not written yet though bc i just decided i’d be writing them lmao. hopefully can get started on that this weekend and post them next week 🤗

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa @carbs-need-more-love @underratedmage @idek-at-thispoint @wtfeverbrandi @food8me @yikes-buddy @ntimacy @nyxiie @oikawasbooty @chocolate3010 @sugawarabby @greenyiplier @kritiiiii @tokyosdawn @youstydiaa @h3llok1ttygirl

one | two

Chapter Three

“You want me to help you with what?” You ask, a bit stunned when he showed up at the door, a terribly annoying but also cute pleading expression on his face.

He groans, his shoulders hunching forward in exasperation. “Ya really gunna make me repeat it?”

You peer closer at the top of his head and see that he’s being serious. The roots of his hair growing in are a dark brown and it had never even occurred to you that he dyes his hair the blonde color you’re so used to. “No, but why do you need my help?”

This is so embarrassing. Normally his roommate or a teammate can help him but none of them are available today and he’s already let the roots grow longer than he likes. But when one of them suggested you help him out instead, something inside him rebelled. For some reason, the thought of having you dye his hair for him made him uncomfortable, like he’s showing you an intimate part of him. This hair has been a part of him so long he can’t remember the last time he’d let it grow out.

“I can’t see if I got everything,” he admits. It took a lot of pacing around his room and staring at his roots for him to get up the courage to come over here to ask you. He can’t really explain why he was so against it, especially since you don’t seem to mind after you got over the initial shock of realizing this isn’t his natural hair.

A wave of relief washes over him when you sigh, conceding, “Alright. Just let me change into something I can get bleach on. I’ll meet you at your dorm.”

While he waits for you, he busies himself with mixing the dye together so it’s ready for you, and when you arrive in a t-shirt and shorts with paint splatters all over them, he mentally kicks himself for thinking about how even wearing something so simple you still look better than anyone he’s ever seen. Crossing your arms, you motion for him to take a seat at his desk. Before he does so, he reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment, it taking you a second to process that he’s now standing before you shirtless and you’re free to ogle his muscular chest and arms to your hearts content. He doesn’t pay any attention to you, knowing if he meets your gaze, he won’t be able to stop the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. Instead, he wraps a towel around his waist to protect his shorts and sits in the chair to wait for you.

Except now, you have free reign to stare at his back, which is just as defined as the front of him and you need a few more seconds to reel your thoughts back.

“Whaddya waitin’ for darling?” He drawls, throwing you a glance over his shoulder, not expecting you to be standing there frozen, eyes pinned to his now bare chest.

He opens his mouth to tease you further, but your eyes snap to his and you practically shout, “Do you have another towel?” He just cocks a brow and then points to his closet where another towel is hanging on a hook. Snatching it, you return to him and drape it over his shoulders, hiding most of his annoyingly toned body. “Don’t want to get any bleach on your skin,” you explain, no way in hell ever admitting to him that you’re finding it hard to focus with him on display like that.

Absentmindedly, he hands you one of the clips he bought a long time ago, one that’s almost completely bleached itself and you start running your fingers through his hair to section it. He closes his eyes, focusing intently on the soothing sensation of your fingers on his scalp, doing his best not to groan out loud at how good it feels. With anyone else, this isn’t anything special, normally he sits as patiently as he can whilst trying not to annoy whoever is doing his hair (lest they decide to ‘mess up’ as punishment). But with you, it’s a different feeling entirely.

It's jarringly intimate as you clip his hair back and reach over him to grab the plastic gloves that came with the dye. Lathering up the applicator brush, you start slathering it onto his hair, trying your hardest to make sure it’s evenly distributed and surrounding each strand. As you do so, you ask, “How long have you been doing this?”

He resists the urge to shrug, not wanting to jostle you, replying, “Osamu and I started in middle school.”

“Osamu dyes his hair too?”

“Yeah, he goes for gray. But I’d heard blondes have more fun so—here we are.”

He grits his teeth as your fingers skim over his scalp, glad for the towel you wrapped around him to hide the goosebumps skittering along his bare skin.

“Let me guess,” you muse. “You guys did it because people couldn’t tell you apart?”

“That,” he laughs, “And we thought it would look cool. The first time we did it, it looked like shit.”

Your answering laugh warms his heart as you unclip a section of hair and keep working. “I can’t imagine your mom being too happy about it.”

“Livid. We got bleach everywhere.”

You laugh, continuing to move through his hair methodically. It doesn’t take very long as you’re just dying his roots and they weren’t that bad to begin with, contrary to what Atsumu thinks. When you finish, he gives you a sheepish look and has to swallow his pride to ask you to help him wash it out. Every time he’s tried to do it himself, he always ends up leaving a huge chunk of bleach somewhere.

You oblige, following him to the bathroom, not bothering to care about the looks you get along the way. If they want to stare at a shirtless Atsumu and then glare at you for having that all to yourself, that’s their prerogative. It does wonders for your confidence, regardless that all of this is a ruse.

Luckily, the bathroom is empty and Atsumu dutifully bends over the sink to let you start washing the dye out of his hair. He’s immensely grateful his eyes are shut, and his face is shoved into the sink to hide his flushed cheeks as he thoroughly enjoys your fingers running through his hair. The sensation of your fingernails lightly scraping over his scalp makes him ball his fists as he has to bite his lip to keep from making any sounds.

You’re unbothered, until you notice the towel has slipped from his shoulders and with the way he’s bracing himself against the counter every muscle in his back and arms is on display for you to see. It’s an effort to continue your task as if nothing is wrong and force yourself to look off into the distance instead of eyeing him up.

It’s no easy feat. Especially when you finish and he rises, scrubbing at his face with the discarded towel before moving on to his hair. You press your lips into a firm line and let yourself indulge just a little bit looking at the way his muscles flex with the movement, droplets from his damp hair trailing down the planes of his chest towards the waistband of his shorts and—your attention is broken at the sound of him chuckling and you snap your gaze to his.

You find him staring at you with mischief sparkling in his eyes, so you speak before he can tease you. “Is that it?”

“We have to actually dye it now.”

“Oh.” You turn on your heels desperate to escape his gaze. “Let’s go then.” A smirk plays across his lips, but he refrains from teasing you, solely because he very much enjoyed the way you were looking at him and doesn’t want you to stop.

And yeah—sue him if he thinks about your hands in his hair for the rest of the day. In the end, he might be a little grateful no one else was available to help him.

When mid-semester break arrives, it comes as a surprise that you actually miss each other. What surprises you even further, is that he’s the one to bring it up. Within the first night, he video calls you, a sheepish expression on his face, explaining he needed someone to complain to.

“What do you mean?” You teased. “Sounds like you’re getting stuffed with good food from Osamu and you have plenty to brag about.” You winked, smiling devilishly at him and pointing to yourself. You’re only joking. Slightly. You aren’t sure what will come about if he tells his family about you, or if that’s even a good idea. It’d be much easier to break this off cleanly without the involvement of each other’s families.

He sighs, flopping down on his bed and scrubbing his face with one hand. “They’re just dyin’ to meet you now.”

Your brows lift, half-expecting him to have tried to keep this a secret. “You told them?”

“I wasn’t gunna,” he explains. “But apparently some college sports news channel caught um—,” he coughs awkwardly, remembering very vividly this day, yet the two of you haven’t acknowledged it since. “Our—uh—celebration.”

Eyes widening, you stare at him a moment before the both of you burst out laughing. Between your giggles you manage to say, “Oops.”

Laughing alongside you, he grins, despite the pang in his heart at the voice in his head desperately trying to remind him all of this isn’t real. You aren’t his girlfriend and the moment all of this ends, you probably won’t bat an eye at him ever again. He hates how much that hurts.

Forging onward towards his demise he discloses, “I am now a very proud owner of a very jealous brother now, so thank you.”

That only makes you keep grinning, setting a hand on your cheek and dramatically saying, “What? Of little ol’ me?”

He fights the urge to tell you that yes—jealous of little ol’ you. The girl who is slowly becoming the girl of his dreams. The beautiful, funny girl who deals with him and everything that comes with him. He swallows all that, keeping the mood and saying, “He refuses to let me try any of his onigiri. A crime, really.”

“Of the highest caliber,” you agree, stifling your laughter. “Though I’m sure you steal some when he isn’t looking.”

“Yeah, but he caught me and hit me on the head with his spoon.”

“How dare he. Lucky for me, my family is clueless.”

“What do they think yer doin’ right now then?”

Shrugging you say, “I told them I had a project to work on with a classmate. Which isn’t entirely a lie, I do have a project to work on. But someone interrupted.”

He smirks. “Wonder who that could be.”

“Beats me.” His responding grin does something to you that’s been happening a lot more frequently lately. Making you feel like all the air has been punched out of you and like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Though, you’ve gotten quite good at hiding it.

In the distance, you hear someone calling his name. He panics, it’s bad enough his family knows about you now, but he isn’t sure if he’s ready for them to meet you. Especially Osamu, who he has the sinking feeling is already suspicious of this. It’ll be a miracle if he can slip this by him.

“Gotta go!” He says quickly, and before he ends the call, he hears you chuckle and say, “Beware the spoon.”

Every day his situation only gets worse.

The next night he can’t get Osamu off his back. Enough that when he tries to retreat to his bedroom to give you a call, pathetically missing you again, Osamu bursts in when he’s about two minutes into the video call with you. He tries to shove him out, embarrassed and afraid Osamu will see straight through him. But Osamu is stubborn, and he hears you laughing on the other end of the call before saying, “Aww, Atsumu won’t you at least let me try to charm the pants off him?”

He grits his teeth, the thought that he wants you to charm the pants off of him, not his brother flitting through his head before he can stop it. But he relents, letting Osamu sit backwards on his desk chair to join the conversation.

He isn’t sure how, but somehow you get Osamu to believe this is real in a matter of minutes. You have him laughing and talking about culinary school and he almost feels jealous that your attention is now on Osamu instead of him. It’s a ridiculous notion, he knows it, but it doesn’t stop him from keeping the camera on him as much as possible.

When the call ends, Osamu looks at him seriously, and for a moment Atsumu thinks he’s just been pretending to believe you this entire time. However, he breaks into a smile and smacks him on the back saying, “Got yerself a keeper, there.”

Atsumu tries to grin with as much sincerity as he can. Yeah—he knows he does. But that isn’t going to stop this from ending.

That night, both of you go to bed feeling like you’re getting in too deep.

And as per usual, when school starts back up again, neither of you bring it up. You’re happy to keep ignoring it, hating yourself for liking this arrangement and him more and more every day. It sad really, how much time in your day is spent thinking about him. Wondering if there’s any possibility that the two of you could just transition to a real relationship. Because to you, that’s already what this is. Nothing would change, but at least you’d stop feeling guilty every time you enjoy his hand in yours or the soft press of his lips to the top of your head.

A few days after returning to school, you find yourself alone with him in his dorm room studying. He’s sitting at his desk, hunched over a textbook while you lay on his bed, head propped up by an elbow. You can feel your eyes drooping, the words blurring together, it becoming harder and harder to stay awake. His bed is too comfortable and smells overwhelmingly like him, a scent you’ve come to enjoy every time you’re pressed up against him. A mixture of his body wash and the ever-present faint smell of the volleyball court. Eventually you’re powerless against the solace of sleep.

When Atsumu notices you, his heart jumps into his throat. You look so serene and peaceful, your chest rising and falling ever so slightly, part of him wants to crawl in beside you and press his face into your neck and fall asleep right along with you.

But he too has begun to feel like this game has gone too far. The moment he had to tell his family, lie to Osamu, he knew he’d crossed a line. It isn’t fair to you. No longer does he need to pretend for his teammates that he can have a serious relationship, there isn’t a reason to torture himself and keep you tied to him anymore.

Yet, thinking about not being without you, no longer eating lunch together, studying together, or having you in the stands at his games wrenches his heart in such a way he actually feels like it’s crumpling inside his chest. He hasn’t been able to admit it, but at some point along the way, he thinks he fell in love with you. And it just hurts too much to keep pretending. Especially when you’re only doing this for peace and quiet during your showers.

For you, he shouldn’t drag this on any longer.

So, a couple days later, you texted him telling him you were in the library and can join him anytime if he wants. A harmless text, one you’ve sent him many times since this whole thing started, but this one makes his heart sink. Knowing this is the opportunity he’s been waiting for to talk to you. He tries to not think about it, trying to let volleyball take over his thoughts, but it’s futile. All he can think about is saying those words to you, and how it’s quite possibly going to utterly destroy him.

But you take it well, as he expects, squashing the hope that you might feel something for him too.

That night in the library feels particularly lonely. There’s no quick-witted remark from the boy who carved himself a place in your life, no one there to make you laugh when you’re struggling with a problem. Instead, you’re met with nothing but the darkness and silence of the library. It’s almost too much to bear, and once the silence starts closing in on you—you force yourself to leave, refusing to let yourself wallow.

The next weeks are hard. He never imagined that he’d think that after all of this was over. He keeps showering in the mornings to avoid you and uphold the deal you two struck months ago. He ignores the empty hole in his chest when he eats lunch without you, or studies late alone. The most jarring thing is your absence at his games. He constantly finds himself searching the crowd for your face, before remembering you won’t be there. He misses that intense gaze he could always feel on his back, the one that kept him awake at night when he let his thoughts run wild.

He feels as though something has been ripped from his life, leaving nothing but a gaping hole behind that seems intent on devouring him whole.

The same can be said for you.

Who knew you’d ever miss his teasing remarks while you shower? Or miss how you could complain to him endlessly about classes and then have him comfort you in the warm solace of his arms? Even the little things like walking to class together, now that you do it alone, it feels like there’s something missing.

The two you go on like that, thinking of the other every night before sleeping, tossing and turning with the thought of what could have been.

And eventually, you reach the point where you’re over it. Over pining after him day after day, peering out your door to make sure he isn’t around, or taking detours just to avoid him in the hallways. You’re over it. Enough that you’re willing to swallow your pride and confess to him, even if he doesn’t feel the same way—maybe you can fucking move on then.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you stomp to his dorm room, his roommate opening the door; his eyes widening upon seeing you. Immediately, he grabs his keys saying into the room, “I forgot I need to go to the store Atsumu, see you later.”

He leaves no time for Atsumu to protest, out the door in a matter of moments, leaving you standing in the doorway. Atsumu is just sitting in his desk chair, looking dumfounded at you, having fully expected to never see you again.

The gears in his head grind to a halt as you say, “This is stupid.”

He gives you a bewildered look, unsure what exactly you mean by that.

You steel your courage and press on. “I like you. And you like me. I think. And all this pretending that we don’t is stupid.”

After a few moments, his lips curve into a smile, the mischievous one you used to hate but now feel relief seeing. He can’t help the joy building in his chest at your confession. How many sleepless nights thinking about this very moment did he endure?

“You said it,” he teases.

Despite giving him a look, you do nothing to stop the grin rising to your lips. “Well, it didn’t seem like you were going to.”

His smile only widens, and he motions you into the room. “Get yer butt over here already.”

You move on instinct, striding into the room and climbing into his lap, settling your legs on either side of his you wrap your arms around his neck. The overwhelming sense that yes—this is exactly where you want to be, washes over you. He smirks up at you, his large hands resting at your waist, waiting for your next move.

“I can’t believe I actually missed that stupid smirk,” you say, lowering your lips to his, fingers slipping into the short hair at the base of his neck.

His smile hasn’t faltered, muttering against your lips teasing, “Does this mean I can shower at night again?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, but he smothers it in another kiss and refuses to let go.

#miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #miya atsumu #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenario #miya atsumu reader insert #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu

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angstymarauder · 4 years ago

Text

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

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lilikags · 4 years ago

Text

ೃ‧₊› a b o u t t h i s p o s t° ➮ Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader ➮ Oneshot ➮ Tags: fluff ➮ Word Count: 2182

A/N: This is for @serowotonin! [for Luna’s Valentines Day collab] Ik I said I was doing Atsumu bc “I was bored” but I always say “imagine being bored” and truly, I haven’t been bored for so long. I forgot that this was for the collab for a fat moment then when you saw the preview I was like, “Wait- no- it’s a surprise.”

Premise: You and Atsumu are cleaning out the apartment, when you find a few letters you thought you would never see again…

“Oi, (y/n), look at what I found,” you heard Atsumu say, leaning over the contents of a drawer he had been sifting through.

“What?” you walked over to see what he had found. The two of you were cleaning out the apartment, as you were going to be moving out soon. Atsumu had a habit of keeping things that connected him to an important memory of his, unless he wanted to forget it- and this was one of them. You didn’t know he kept them- actually, it did make sense of him to, but you had simply forgotten about it and you somehow expected the same for him. You looked down to see what he had in his hands, and your face literally went emotionless as you saw the letter in his hands.

You really didn’t mind the letters, for the most part. Actually, they held dear to you. However, that first one… you were grateful for it, but you also remembered just how bad you wanted to buy a grave space and bury it for eternity back then...

Miya Atsumu.

This was a dare. This is a love letter. For Valentines. Happy valentines day. If you have extra chocolate, send me some.

Sincerest thanks, (y/n).

Atsumu usually threw away the letters he received every Valentines. It wasn’t that he was trying to be rude; it was just that there were too many letters for him to read (and reply to), so he usually just threw them out. Osamu often teased him for this; he boasted that he at least read his letters.

“Oi, ‘Samu, look at this one,” Atsumu called out to his brother.

“What?” Osamu looked at him, with a face of disbelief. “Yer actually lookin’ at them?”

“Nah, not really, but this one’s hilarious,” Atsumu laughed.

“Okay, not funny, keep yer lame humor to yourself.”

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

“(y/n), truth or dare,” (b/f/n) asked.

You smiled, “Dare.”

“Hmmm… alright, send a love letter to Miya Atsumu- it has to be at least one line long.”

“I’m- okay then.”

You brought out a piece of paper, wrote the first things that came to mind, and once you reached one line, you stopped. You folded the paper and grabbed whatever envelope you could find and sealed it with tape. The dare required actually giving the letter, much to your dismay, but it wasn’t like you could back down from a dare. After all, it was (b/f/n), and the nonstop teasing would definitely occur if you failed to complete the dare.

Dearest (y/n),

I did in fact receive your rather interesting letter, and I have decided to bring you some chocolate as you wished. I wish you, as well, a very happy valentine’s day this year.

Most sincerely, Atsumu.

Atsumu was intrigued enough to write a reply; in fact, he decided to write in the most formal way possible. He knew from the letter that you were either a tsundere or someone who was actually dared to do so, and decided that it would be fun entertainment for the both of you.

When you received the letter, you were surprised to see a reply. It was known he didn’t send out replies, yet you had received one. As you read it, you felt a need to reply; you’d simply feel bad if you didn’t. However, what was there to talk about? How the chocolates were good? He had stuck it on your first period desk, out in the open. And you also sincerely wondered what was with the overly formal tone. You do remember writing the most shitty letter you’ve ever written to him, and that volleyball-obsessed dude just writes something formal to you? Baffles the mind.

Well, then, if he was going to reply, you would too.

Miya Atsumu,

Thanks for the chocolate- your fans make pretty good chocolate, I have to say. Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, ‘cause all ya focus on is just volleyball. Anyways, what was with the overly formal tone- ya like me or somethin’? Would be funny if ya did and I turned ya down. XD

(y/n)

You never really thought of Miya Atsumu, but this really sparked your interest. It was amusing, his reactions. It was definitely something you didn’t expect- you actually didn’t expect a reply at all. The reply you received was definitely out of the ordinary as well, one you never thought a hotshot volleyball player would write. It seemed he was interested in you in some ways- and you as well.

(y/n),

Pfffft, you think I might like ya? I just thought yer letter was interestin’, that’s all. Ya really think I can’t make chocolate? Bet I could make better chocolate than ya, I’ll show you. I make you chocolate myself and we’ll see how it tastes. Just you watch, I’ll make ya say I make the best chocolate ever!

Atsumu.

You saw that in your shoe locker the next morning- and everyone saw it. You were beginning to regret actually replying to him, but there was no backing out now. (b/f/n) really hit the goal here, for her. People were probably talking about it. It’s always some event that involves romance that catches everyone’s eye. And since it was just after valentine’s, everyone would automatically assume it was a love letter. In reality, it was simply a little bit of playful banter.

You wondered if people actually knew who it was. You hoped not; it would gather way too much attention for your liking. You’d have an entire fanclub after you, and it was definitely (b/f/n)’s fault that you got into this entire mess. You had absolutely no idea if anyone saw him slip that into your shoe locker, since it had probably been there for a good hour or so before you and most of the other students got there. In any case, there was nothing you could do about people knowing things they already know, so you headed onto class. It was exam week, and you sighed; it would be a long day.

When you arrived at homeroom, you were not-so-pleasantly surprised with what you found at your desk. You just wanted a quiet day; go to school, take the tests, and get out so you could relax at home. But no, you just had to see this and you knew there was a thing called rumors you had to deal with. Well, you could just be like “whatever” and not care, but you definitely knew who’d be after you, for real. Atsumu’s fanbase was quite scary, and definitely large- a group of people one would regret messing with.

“Ugh- what am I going to do with this chocolate now, he gave me a lot yesterday…”

“(y/n)! Oiiii, you got chocolate?! From who from who-”

“(b/f/n), if you say a word, you are going to be dead to me.”

“...” she looked away, but then turned to you again and whispered in your ear. “So, Miya Atsumu, who has a fanbase, likes you.”

“I’m- no-”

“But what I’m seeing says otherwise?”

“Ugh, you’re coming to my house and you are going to pay for that dare.”

“Oh ho ho, seems like I started something…” “Bet you did.”

Pisshead Atsumu

LMAO bet ya didn’t make the chocolate, yer terrible at lying <///3 seen this chocolate before. And like wtf you put a box of chocolate on my desk with YOUR NAME on it. Ya know that people will do a thing called assuming things, right? Smh, think before you act. Anyways, I’m counting on ya to fix up this mess.

(y/n)

When you finished class, the first thing you did was write the note. You were absolutely paranoid with this mess, and you were going to have Atsumu fix it. Yes, you did technically initiate contact first, but that was (b/f/n)’s fault and this could’ve avoided this if he hadn’t pulled off a whole stunt.

It was already around 6 when he saw the note. A small smirk filled his expression, he was so sure that he would be able to get a good reaction out of (y/n). It was written on scrap paper, the back of a phys. ed worksheet. You wrote it in a rush, very obviously. That wasn’t really what caught his attention though; he was puzzled as to how he would fix this. Tell his fans to fuck off? Osamu would tease him for eternity.

“Oi, what’cha starin’ at?” he heard Osamu nag. “Mom’s waitin’ for us for dinner.”

“Hey, ‘Samu… ya know how to fix this?”

“... ARE YOU AN IDIOT- YOU ARE AN IDIOT.”

“I AM NOT! YOU ARE THE IDIOT HERE!”

“SAYS THE ONE WHO GOT INTO A MESS LIKE THIS!”

“Oi, ya shouldn’t be fightin’ at this hour,” the two heard Kita say, as he gave them a certain look. “... ‘m sorry…” the twins apologized.

Even after a fulfilling dinner made by their mother and a nice, hot shower, Atsumu still couldn’t think of a solution. Osamu almost snitched on him, but he decided that there was enough on their mom’s plate of problems at the moment.

“What if ya said you were dating?” Osamu offered.

“HAH?! ARE YA INSANE?!” Atsumu yelled at him.

“That would explain what happened at valentine’s.”

“But there’s nothin’ between us-”

“Yer fanclub wouldn’t really believe anythin’ else.”

“Yeah…”

(y/n),

Can we meet when practice ends at 6 on Thursday?

M. Atsumu.

“... I’m- Is he just going to apologize then run away? Tch.” you sighed. You had the idea that Miya Atsumu was overconfident and carefree, but not to this extent. The least he could do was fix this- he had power over his fandom and what people said about him, unlike you. You had to go, it wasn’t like you really had much of a choice if you wanted to talk it out and fix it.

“Hey, (y/n) are you and Atsumu dating?” one of your classmates asked, and a bunch of others hovered around the table, waiting to hear a response. (b/f/n) had told you rumors had spread around the entire school; you figured that would’ve happened. Any topic related to the twins spread like wildfire, especially the blonde-haired one.

“... Can you not try to pry into my private life?” you replied, which you instantly realized was exactly a wrong answer to give. This implied that you were in fact dating Atsumu secretly, and you just made your life 10x worse. You figured you should just tell everyone what had happened, then the blame would be on (b/f/n)- it should preferably be placed on Atsumu, since he started it, really.

When you met him at 6pm, you expected no contribution from him. Instead, you were met with a solid plan for something you weren’t really happy about, but it seemed the easiest to convince the public of a story they put out.

“(y/n)... let’s tell them that we’re dating.”

“Hmm… well, they already think that…”

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…” “It’s fine. All we can do is move forward, I guess.”

“Yeah… ‘Samu gave me this solution; it’s all I have, I’m sorry if it’s-”

“It’s fine. Let’s go through with it. Just protect me from the crazy fangirls; that’s all I want.”

“Ya.”

“And we’ll need to put together a coherent story; what’s yer number?”

“Ahaha, seriously, maybe (b/f/n)’s a prophet. She told me that she was aiming for somethin’ to happen between us,” you commented, remembering what happened years and years ago.

“Ya were just so unnecessarily worried about the fangirls,” Atsumu mentioned.

“Oi! Yer fangirls were hella scary back then…”

That night, you stayed up coming up with a story, which ended with the two of you breaking up so that you could go on your separate ways again. However, the story didn’t last too long, as (b/f/n)’s parent’s investigations went a little too far and spread the truth a little too much. (b/f/n) is one thing, but you had almost forgotten her parents were another, seriously. They’d been a little busy over the last few years, thus the lack of investigations of local drama, but they had been doing so for decades, what could you expect from them?

Nothing was Atsumu’s fault to the fanclub, unless he seriously convinced them that it was. You were guilty until proven innocent. Unbeknownst to you until after, he gave them a whole (to be honest, not-so-great) speech on how he kind of went too far with the joke, but also placed the blame on everyone else for assuming things. People were absolutely ridiculous; their ideas and their insane imagination should learn that the left side of the brain exists too.

“Funny how we met again after college, after all that time.”

“Ya… a real wonder”

Another A/N: OMG THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR ‘TSUMU FORGIVE ME IF I WROTE HIM LIKE, WRONG IN THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

『••✎••』 Extra Info * ˚ ✦ ⇢ If you would like to read some of my other works, find them here! * ˚ ✦ ⇢ Taglist: @serowotonin @luna-la-ley // send me an ask if you would like to be added!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #atsumu oneshot #atsumu fic #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x you #hq love letters

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mono-dot-jpeg · 5 years ago

Text

dynamite - b. katsuki

summary; life is sweet as honey, or maybe they’re as sweet as caramel!

genre; fluff, comedy, soft bakugou, best friend! mina, fluff moments w/ bakugou, tsundere! bakugou is what i live for, 3rd year! bakugou

pairing; bakugou katsuki x reader

word count; 2.8k (if you count the lyrics)

a/n: tbh the song doesn’t really fit the theme but the song is cute and i wanted to use it in a fanfic at some point. this is my longest written one shot i think [._.]

ALSO IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! LET’S FUCKIN GO, GAMERS

the song is “dynamite” by BTS, if you haven’t listened to it, please do, it slaps. i didn’t do the entire song bc im too lazy and that’s too long to write ksdjfksdjf i have a limit :monkaW:

‘Cause I, I, I’m in the stars tonight

So watch me bring the fire and set the night alight

You were one of the energetic people in class. You had got along with everyone except the explosive blonde that was Bakugou. You hung out with Mina the most which was how you got initiated into the Bakusquad. With your Quirk, Boombox, it seemed almost perfect that you were in the Bakusquad. You converted sound into explosions though there were drawbacks (that you didn’t wanna get into) of course.

Your classmates wondered if you had known Bakugou before you joined UA. On the first day, you challenged the male after you found out about his Quirk. Of course he had accepted the challenge and during Quirk Assessment, he had won. Ever since you had become another rival for him, but at least it was more of a healthy rivalry compared to him vs Midoriya (but I mean that rivalry got better overtime).

Thought there were several times where it seemed to be more than a friendly rivalry.

Shoes on, get up in the morn’

Cup of milk, let’s rock and roll

King Kong, kick the drum

Rolling on like a Rolling Stone

It was another normal day for you, except you were going to train with your Quirk. Music was blasting in your headphones as you mutter the lyrics, small explosions popping on your hands.

Before you could leave, Bakugou stopped you. “Oi, dumbass.” You looked up at him, sending him a smile. “You going to train?” You nodded at the male.

“Mhm! You wanna come with? I wanna practice working with my quirk! Let me practice with you!” You said eagerly.

“Ugh, you’re like an annoying puppy, you dumbass. I shouldn’t be inviting you to your own practice.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, I’m coming with you.” He bonked your head before you rubbed the spot he had hit.

“Hey! You’re like an angry Pomeranian! You’re not any different from me! Come on! Let’s go! I’ll beat you this time!” You said, starting to pull him by the arm as he quickly protested to the physical contact but made no move to tug his arm away.

“Like you’ll beat me. I’m still gonna win.” He scoffed. “And who you callin’ Pomeranian?! You fuckin’ dumbass!” You smiled at him in reply as you btoh made your way to the training areas in UA.

“Can I play some music?” He grumbles as you take it as a sign of agreement. You smile brightly, playing your favorite music. You were experimenting if you had to be the one to make the sound of if you could use sound from other sources. You had always assumed that you had you make the sound yourself.

And so the training started. Within seconds, the sound of explosions and yells ringed in the room. Neither of you went easy on each other. It almost felt like a match in the UA Sports Festival. You and Bakugou never went against each other during it due to the fact you lost when you went against Tokoyami. You couldn’t use anything to fight against Dark Shadow well enough.

As the fight between you and Bakugou continued, you had used your quirk with the loud beat of the music. So, I can use my quirk with music! You had thought. Soon the fight ended with Bakugou winning, much to your disappointment. “I almost got you there!” You said as Bakugou sees the determined glint in your eyes, ready to go against him once again.

He chuckled, moving his hand on the top of your head and started to ruffle your hair which earned your surprise. It wasn’t until he playfully shoved you, yelling at you, “Come on! You weren’t even close, dumbass!” You swore you saw pink on his face, maybe it was from the heat in the room (from the fight) but you weren’t sure…

Sing song when I'm walking home

Jump up to the top, LeBron

It was a day off in the dorms. You had been in your room all day pretty much. This was usually normal behavior as you played video games in your free time when you weren't studying or gaming. But more often than not, you forgot that you had to care of yourself during off days. Kirishima had went out with the rest of the Bakusquad, leaving you and Bakugou in the dorms with whoever else was there.

You were ending a comp game with some friends who you often six-stacked with. “Yeah, I’ll see you guys later.” They left the group, leaving you to play a few quick play games. You were still in queue until loud knocks echoed in your room, effectively shocking you. “Who is it?” You asked, after getting over your shock.

“Open up idiot!” Bakugou said. You feel like if he bashed any harder on your door, it might just break. You stop the queue and open the door, revealing the blonde male. “How long have you been in your room? You look like shit.”

“Well...how honest do I have to be to answer your question?” The answer you gave him was enough as he soon put you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “W-what are you doing?!”

Ding-dong, call me on my phone

Ice tea and a game of ping pong

“You haven’t eaten have you?”

“W-well, do small snacks count?”

“No, you fucking idiot.” He took you to the kitchen, putting you down onto a seat as you huffed at him, “Actually fucking eat a meal!”

“Aw, you care about me!”

“W-what? SHUT UP DUMBASS! IF YOU WANNA BEAT ME, DO IT WHEN YOU’RE AT YOUR BEST!” You nodded, laughing a bit at his reaction. He had made some curry with rice, handing a plate over to you while he grumbled about you not eating all day and staying in your room.

“I’ll still beat you! No matter what!” You smiled before you ate. You had realized that this was one of the few times that Bakugou did this on the weekends. “But still, thanks for worrying about me!”

“Shut up! I wasn’t worrying!” His face was red. You wondered if it was from the anger or something else.

This is getting heavy, can you hear the bass boom? I'm ready (Woo-hoo)

Life is sweet as honey, yeah, this beat cha-ching like money, huh

You were at the mall with the Bakusquad (Bakugou included of course). You and Mina were gossiping and talking most of the time. You had suggested to go to the arcade but Mina insisted on dressing you up in some cute clothes before you did. But maybe Mina just wanted to buy clothes for herself as well. You didn’t mind catering to your best friend for a while.

The boys of the squad didn’t go off too far from you and Mina as they decided to go into a video game store for a bit while you and Mina indulged yourself in the cute clothes.

“You’ll look great in it, y/n! Trust me!” Mina encouraged. You smiled nervously at the female before moving into the changing rooms to change. Unknown to you, a certain blonde had been glancing over at you from the video game store window.

“It’s pretty cute!” You stepped out and Bakugou almost choked on air. The waistband of the skirt hugged your waist comfortably as the black graphic tee was loosely tucked in. Now if you were someone else, Bakugou probably would’ve called you some dumb shit like a basic e-girl or something like that. But you pulled it off.

“You need to buy it!” Now, Bakugou couldn’t hear you from how far the stores were. Mina took this chance. “I think Bakugou likes it.” Mina glanced over to the video game store, tilting her head to gesture you to look at Bakugou. You glanced over for a second, locking eyes with the male as you feel your face heat up.

Disco overload, I'm into that, I'm good to go

I'm diamond, you know I glow up

Hey, so let's go

You did buy the outfit. And you made your way to the boys. You couldn’t muster up too much courage, suddenly hyper aware about the blonde’s actions. You all eventually arrived at the arcade, your hyper awareness wiped away as you saw the DDR machines.

“Hey Mina! Let’s go! You think you could beat me this time?” You joked as you accidentally bumped shoulders with Bakugou, trying to call out to Mina. Mina was too busy with Kiri and Sero, making you pout. “Damn, meanie. Hey Bakugou?” You dragged out his name, earning a huff from him.

“I don’t dance.”

“Well, it’s not really dancing! Are you scared that I’m gonna beat you?” You can feel his competitiveness flare up at the question.

“No way in hell am I scared!” He grabbed your wrist, dragging you to one of the DDR machines. “I’ll beat you, dumbass!” You laughed as you let him drag you.

“Okay!” You stood on the colorful arrows as you picked a song. “I’ll win against you, Bakugou! This is my main game!” You said, fully confident in your skills. He ‘tched’ before the song started. As the song went on, Bakugou seemed to care less about winning and more about the bright smile on your face.

'Cause I, I, I'm in the stars tonight

So watch me bring the fire and set the night alight (Hey)

Shining through the city with a little funk and soul

So I'ma light it up like dynamite, woah-oh-oh

You weren’t one to have bad days but today just really seemed like a bad day. Hero training was more draining than usual, one of your friends from general studies seemed to be avoiding you for some reason, and you got in trouble with Aizawa today. Nothing could be worse. It was a stressful day and you weren’t happy at all.

The whole Bakusquad seemed to notice this. “Hey Bakugou, you should go talk to y/n!” Kiri suggested as the squad watched you do house work as per the punishment Aizawa had granted you with.

Bring a friend, join the crowd

Whoever wanna come along

“Why me?!”

“Well, you and y/n seem really close. Plus I’m scared that they might just snap at me. They’ve been having a bad day lately. Maybe you could help them out.”

“Aren’t you guys their friends?!”

“Just go do it, bro!” Kiri encouraged, pushing the blonde towards you.

Bakugou went up to you. “Hey, dumbass, let’s, uh, talk after you’re done with cleaning. Meet me at my room, idiot.” He spat out at you. He seemed oddly nervous. He hated that feeling. How you made him feel like that like it was nothing. You looked at Bakugou, confused for a moment before nodding.

You arrived at the door to his room, knocking softly on it. “What did you wanna talk about, Bakugou?” Before you could react, you were pulled into his room and right into his arms. Your face was forced to rest on his shoulder as you can feel his warmth radiating on you.

Word up, talk the talk

Just move like we Off The Wall

“Y-you looked fuckin’ stressed today. You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong. You can let it out.” There was just something about his words that started to make you cry. You could feel your stress leave you as Bakugou stays silent, comforting you without words. After you finished crying, he starts to speak again, “I’m not good with words, you know this, but I’m, uh, here for you. But don’t get any ideas, dumbass!”

You looked up at him, seeing pink dusted on his face. You start to giggle. “Why are you laughing, idiot!?” He asked as you start to laugh more, your Quirk accidentally activating as it make little sparks in the air.

“You’re-you’re just really cute!” You said honestly with that bright smile of yours. Bakugou can feel blood rush up to his cheeks.

“I’M NOT CUTE!” The blonde growled, making you laugh more. Eventually, he got over his anger. “Don’t call me cute!” But he was glad that you were happier now after you finished crying. He didn’t know if it was the sparks from your Quirk or the light from his room but you seemed to shine brighter than the sun when you smiled.

Day or night the sky's alight

So we dance to the break of dawn

You fumbled with your outfit as Mina continued to do your makeup. It was a special night. Prom night. You, of course, were going with the Bakusquad. You sort of wished Bakugou asked you out but he would never really do something like that.

“Are you sure I look good?” You asked Mina.

“You look great! I’m sure Bakugou will like it!” She teased, sending a red flush to your cheeks. You stood up, dusting yourself off. “Ahh! You look so amazing! All the boys and girls will want ya!” You laughed at Mina’s words, tucking some of your hair back.

You and Mina soon gathered with the others in the living room. Once you entered the room, Bakugou was pretty sure he lost his breath at the sight of you. You were so damn beautiful.

Ladies and gentlemen, I got the medicine

So you should keep ya eyes on the ball, huh

This is getting heavy

Can you hear the bass boom? I'm ready (woo hoo)

“Hey guys! You ready?” You asked, walking over to the squad with Mina having an arm wrapped around your own. You looked at Bakugou and how shocked he was, you simply smiled as you looked up at the male. He can feel blood rush to his face, soon turning away to cover his face.

You all chatted for a while until you arrived at UA. They had (conveniently) set up a ballroom like room for all the 3rd year students. It was pretty loud and crowded. It felt a fairy tale if you were being honest. It was such a magical feeling though. You loved it.

Though you didn’t join Mina and the others on the floor to dance, you were perfectly content with seeing everyone enjoy themselves as you stood on the sidelines.

“So, why are you with the damn idiots dancing?” Bakugou’s voice pierces right through your thoughts.

“I like to see them enjoy themselves. Plus I can’t dance unless I’m playing DDR.” You joked with a small smile as you sipped on your drink.

“You think they care if you’re good at dancing, look at Pikachu and his dumbass.” Bakugou slightly gestured to said male who was terribly dancing, making you laugh a bit.

“Well, why aren’t you dancing?”

Because I wanted to just look at you.. is what he wanted to say but didn’t. “You think I dance?”

“Maybe your mom taught you a thing or two.” You teased slightly. “I would pay to see you dance.”

Life is sweet as honey

Yeah, this beat cha-ching like money

“Then dance with me.” You looked at him, your e/c eyes glinted with surprise. “Pay to see me dance by dancing with me.” It felt everything slowed down for a moment and slowly faded. It felt like it was just you and Bakugou. Your heart is beating loudly with the music as Bakugou offers you his hand. “Come on idiot, I’m not gonna wait forever.” You can see the smirk on his face but it’s so teasing and his crimson eyes are glinted with confidence and playfulness.

Disco overload, I'm into that, I'm good to go

I'm diamond, you know I glow up

You take his hand. He leads you onto the dance floor, the rest of squad cheering you guys on. It takes you a bit but you start to get into it as much as Bakugou does. Everyone in your class and the other 3rd year classes are joining you but it only feels like it’s just you and Bakugou.

Both of you seem to be in sync with each other and it’s like the song playing was only made for you two.

Let's go

'Cause I-I-I'm in the stars tonight

So watch me bring the fire and set the night alight (hey)

The song soon starts to end and your hands are intertwined with his as you’re only looking at each other. You can smell burnt caramel as he tugs you closer to his chest. It’s like everything stopped when you both stand there while the song is getting closer to the end. Before you both knew it, your lips are connecting with his.

Shining through the city with a little funk and soul

So I'ma light it up like dynamite!

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jonahlovescoffee · 4 years ago

Text

Mistletoe | J.M.

a/n: i suck at writing. the only thing im good at is procrastinating my procrastination so send help pls :/ this fic was supposed to be up before Christmas but i just finished writing it today and i’m not even proud of it :’) anyways, happy reading and be sure to tell me what you think in the end <3

summary: all you wanted to do was kiss your boyfriend under the mistletoe, but things didn’t work out as planned.

warning: secondhand embarrassment, fluff & some mildly suggestive themes in the end bc i couldn’t help it lmao

word count: 2407

“And that’s what I call a perfect plan,” Emily threw her arms up in the air excitedly, thankfully not getting the attention of anyone else in the cafe. She had just finished explaining the details of her stupid plan to make your boyfriend finally kiss you that was admittedly not so stupid after you ran through the whole thing once again in your head. What’s the worst possible outcome of her plan? Him hating you forevermore? You highly doubt that’d happen so maybe this plan was actually worth a try after all.

“Do you think this is a good idea though, I mean I don’t wanna come off as too needy or anything...” you rambled on nervously, your hands fidgeting with the hem of the beige sweater you were wearing.

“You always overthink everything,” Emily landed a firm reassuring pat on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll be completely fine. Couples kiss each other all the time! And it’s about time for that dip to do the same to you too.”

You and Jonah had been dating for quite a while now — nearly a month and a half to be exact — but you both had never kissed. His previous girlfriend had left him heavily scarred and this was your first romantic relationship with anyone, meaning that you were too inexperienced in this relationship department to know how it works, so of course both of you had agreed to take it slow. Don’t get you wrong, he did shower you with affection all the time through other methods, mainly through intimate gestures but he didn’t make a move to take it any further and you being the useless coward you were, you didn’t even dare to initiate it either even though you’d gotten comfortable enough with Jonah to the point where you do want to kiss him. Very badly.

Now, you knew that each and every relationship was different and there was nothing wrong with not choosing to express one’s love through something as absurd as kisses, but after Daniel accidentally let the fact that Jonah actually kissed his ex on their first date slip during one of your conversations with him, you started to wonder whether you were the problem. Were you not pretty enough? Not capable enough?

Your worsened insecurities didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend, which was exactly why she dragged you out to a cafe that late autumn day to offer you her so-called ‘foolproof’ plan that couldn’t go wrong.

So when winter rolled around and it was time to put up Christmas decorations around your house, maybe it was because of the indescribable Christmas magic in the air, or maybe it was because of the delightful festive cheer, you eventually decided to follow her advice and hung a mistletoe above the door. Now all there’s left was for you to greet him at the door, inconspicuously gaze at the mistletoe above you, say something along the lines of, “Wow, I wonder how that mistletoe got there!”, and then hope he’d get the hint and was ready for a cute Christmas kiss — If he did go along with the plan, that is.

Which explained why here you were right now leaning against a wall of your living room, shifting your weight from one foot to another repeatedly while biting your nails as you stare intensely at the clock, trying your best to soothe the nerves in your stomach. You had just invited him over for dinner like usual and was now waiting for his arrival anxiously like something big was about to happen although you knew very well that a kiss was hardly considered that big of a deal.

The loud chime of the doorbell that sounded moments later disrupted your train of thought, startling you a little. You hurriedly smoothed your attire and took a deep breath to calm yourself down before making your way to answer the door. You flung open the front door with a cheeky smile plastered on your face.

“Hey, ba....Corbyn?! What are you doing here?” Your voice raised a pitch in the end of your sentence from how shocked you were when you were greeted with the sight of Corbyn standing on your doorstep instead of your boyfriend whom you were expecting, your eyes widening in disbelief so much that you swore they almost popped out of your sockets.

“Just here to pass your present before I return to my hometown tomorrow for Christmas,” he answered, passing you the rectangular shaped present that was beautifully wrapped with vibrant Christmas-themed wrapping paper. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve thanked him profusely and proceed with guessing excitedly about what he might’ve gotten you (because he is an amazing gift-giver) but this time was different. You had a mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above your head and your friend was not supposed to be here now. Out of all the times he could’ve passed you your present, he had chosen today to do it. Great.

“But isn’t that Jonah’s car?” You asked, pointing at the black Audi that was parked in your driveway, completely ignoring the present that was now in your hand.

Please don’t see the mistletoe. Please don’t see the mistletoe....

“Not even a thank you?” Corbyn cocked a brow but sighed and gave you a reply to your question when he realised you were scowling at him. “Yeah, I caught a ride with him since we’re heading to the same place and he wants me to wash his car afterwards. This dumbass is too lazy to do anything by himself,” he explained and rolled his eyes.

“He’s in the car now talking on the phone with our manager, so yeah,” he added, still not noticing the mistletoe, even when he looked up a little and scratched the back of his head. Luck was definitely on your side today.

“And I bet you have tons to pack for your trip tomorrow, don’t you? So you better hurry home and get ready,” this was the best excuse you had to get him to leave before things got awkward.

“Hello? It’s me you’re talking about,” Corbyn ruffled your hair with his hand. “My stuff is all packed and ready a week ago.”

“But I guess I should get going anyway,” he said, clapping his hands. Jonah can be seen walking towards you both. “The last thing I want is to third wheel your date so see ya’ soon,” he bid his goodbye and you felt a weight lifted from your chest when he still paid no attention to the stupid plant.

But someone else sure did. You watched as a smirk grew on Jonah’s face when his gaze lifted higher to see the mistletoe above you. He was about to walk away when Jonah stopped him by putting an arm over his shoulder.

“Hey, Corbyn, don’t you think it’s extremely rude to leave a girl standing under a mistletoe without a kiss?” His simple question had you internally cursing him with a long string of profanities as embarrassment flooded your veins instantly, heat spreading from the tips of your ears to all over your face.

“Oh,” He dragged out the one syllable word when he finally took notice of the mistletoe as realization hit him. “No wonder you were acting all weird just now! Because you wanted a kiss from me but you didn’t have the guts to say it, huh?”

“No, I absolutely don’t want anything from you!” You waved your hands frantically in front of you in denial.

“Including your present? So give it back to me,” Corbyn instructed, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, in which you responded with another deep scowl.

“No, the present is mine now so you can’t take it back!” You practically screamed at him as you tightened your hands around the said object protectively. You friendly banter went on for a while more, with Corbyn teasing you and you shooting your crafty retorts back at him.

Jonah watched the exchange between you and his best friend silently with an amused smile and couldn’t help but burst into laughter when Corbyn suddenly said “you’re so annoying! It makes me want to kiss you to shut you up” in the midst of your playful bickering, making your cheeks redden even more and from the way you open and close your mouth without any words coming out of it, it was evident that you were at a loss of words too.

“Then kiss her, bro,” Jonah urged him with a nudge of his shoulder. “But not on the lips. Those are mine,” he said in a serious tone, the former cheekiness all gone. It was merely a simple sentence but little did he know butterflies erupted in your stomach just from hearing it.

“As much as I’d not want to kiss you, this is tradition and we can’t break it,” with a hopeless sigh, Corbyn scrunched up his nose in disgust but proceeded to lean in and give you a brief kiss on your cheek before pulling away almost immediately. “There, that’s settled. Hang your mistletoe elsewhere next time. The last thing I want is to fucking kiss my best friend again,” he left with a wave of his hand at you and Jonah.

“I guess it’s just the two of us now,” Jonah stated the obvious as his car pulled out of the driveway a moment later by Corbyn.

“Shut up and get lost, I don’t wanna talk to you,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking away from him, still mad that he made your friend kiss you. It was nothing more than a kiss on the cheek but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t awkward.

“But why are you still standing here then? Right under the mistletoe,” he moved closer and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, kicking the door shut behind him. You were engulfed in his uplifting and clean scent of autumn that you loved so dearly, considering that autumn is your utmost favourite season of all. “Wonder how did that get here. I don’t remember seeing the mistletoe the last time I visited.”

“Fuck you, Jonah.”

“Here? Against the wall? Damn, darling, you sure are one kinky girl,” he joked, earning a playful smack from you.

“Stop,” you whined and buried your face in his chest to hide your blushing face that was already as red as a tomato or even redder at this point. He chuckled, his hand moving to cradle your face and pushed it backwards gently before tilting it upwards.

“Sometimes I forget how delicate and innocent you actually are,” he breathed and you could feel heart doing jumping jacks when your gaze met with his intense one. Your mind went totally haywire when he started to lean in, your breaths mingling with each other’s. “And you have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing this.”

When your lips connected at long last, the wonderful sensation was like nothing you had experienced before. The kiss was soft and moist and hot and breathy, not trying to win a battle but seeking union and closeness and the sharing of one breath, one sensation, one timeless and passionate moment. You yearned for more — you wanted so badly to feel so, so much more of him — so you didn’t hesitate to comply to his wish when he bit your lip lightly for permission for his tongue to slip into your mouth.

The heat rose in your cheeks as your tongues entwined, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined, more curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of you. Instinctively, you grabbed fistfuls of the soft material at the front of his coat to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. He groaned when you bucked your hips against his as his grip on your waist tightened to prevent you from repeating the same action because his self-control was reaching its limit. One more time and he might not be able to restrain himself from pinning you against the wall and ripping off your clothes to devour you.

Plus, he knew that you weren’t ready for that either.

“That was amazing,” you said in awe when you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, breathless from the heated kiss-turned-makeout session with your boyfriend. “If I can get kissed like that everytime I stand under a mistletoe, I think I might go against Corbyn’s advice and hang more of those around my house.”

“You don’t need a stupid mistletoe to kiss me, idiot. You can do it whenever you like,” he replied, his thumb caressing your cheek gently, as if you were his most prized possession that he was more than reluctant to let go of (which you were).

“But why haven’t you done that before?” You asked, staring quizzically into his hazel eyes that were the softest brown infused with green, as if he held the new spring growth inside.

“I wanted your first kiss to be special,” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “There’re a lot of things that I want to do with you and do to you that I haven’t done yet, love, so you gotta be patient,” he promised and took your hands in his, squeezing them once.

“But what if I want you to show me what you want to do to me now?” You wanted to take the question back right after you said it out loud. His lips curled into a smirk which made you even more embarrassed than you already were, not saying a word. “No, I mean what am I even talking about...” you trailed off, pulling your lower lip between your teeth tentatively, not on purpose but because that was what you did everytime you were nervous, only to find his jaw slightly clenched as you did so before using his thumb to softly pull your lip back out.

“Desperate now, are we?” He teased, holding your hand as he led you towards the dining room where the various dishes you had prepared for dinner sat on the table. “Maybe I would, but let’s have dinner first, okay? Dessert will come later.”

It took you a moment to understand what he meant and when you finally did, your face turned red all over again.

#corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #wdw #why dont we #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines

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silverlightqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

angel!felix x demon!reader - comedy, fluff, felix worrying about losing his job as an angel lmao

Word Count: 2.4k+

Summary - Felix is an angel. Literally. Like, from Heaven. And he’s the best at being one. Never has he let temptation lead him astray. Never has he stopped before doing what is right. Never has he abandoned his assigned humans, even those that provide the most challenge. He’s never stepped a toe out of line, always kept his crush on a particularly annoying demon a secret. That is, until, he wakes up in the bed of said annoying demon with lipstick stains on his skin and his halo a little crooked.

Warnings: explicit discussion of sex, making out, that’s it I think but let me know if I missed something please!

this is dedicated to the lovely @brinnalaine for being such a supportive sweetheart, so I hope you enjoy this little fic about our sunshine!

a/n: and here is the sixth instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I’m sorry it’s so late in the day but I’ve spent all day at a theme park scarefest getting terrorised by clowns and dolls in terrifying mazes lmao. @silverlightprincess hasn’t actually proofread this but she proofreads everything else so I still want to thank her for being the best! I really hope you guys enjoy this bc it was really fun to write. please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts too x

taglist: @kodzu-ken @cloudsgathering @silverlightprincess

silverlightqueen navigation

I wake up with something heavy on my face and a dizzy head from my mouth and nose being blocked. I try to take a deep breath and, instead, end up inhaling something soft and wispy, making me choke. I sit up suddenly, pushing the heavy thing off me with effort as I splutter, trying to empty my mouth of whatever it is that’s invaded it. And then I reach a finger into my mouth and end up pulling out feathers. Pure white and fringed feathers.

‘Did you just shove my wing, y/n?’ I hear Felix’s deep morning voice mumble into his pillow, and I shoot his back a dirty look, fishing his stupid feathers out of my mouth and trying to ignore the way I get butterflies in my stomach at hearing him say my name with that voice of his. He’s got his massive wings out for some stupid reason, one of them taking up my side of the bed whilst the other hangs over onto the floor. His hair, a lovely soft blond colour, is a fluffy mess on the pillow, and I can feel the heat that his body radiates despite only having the covers up to his hips, the band of his underwear just about visible.

I’ve been running into Felix quite a bit in the last few months – somehow he was always being assigned to humans in areas that I was… terrorising people in. Angels and demons have always had a… rocky relationship, but Felix was too pure, too kind, too sweet for me to be a bitch to him like I’ve been to all the other angels I’ve encountered. So I put up with his annoyingly sunny presence and his random acts of kindness and him stopping me from feeding on humans because ‘they haven’t done anything wrong!’ After him starving me for months, I got fed up and made a deal with him. I would scare the shit out of people to feed on them, and he would erase their memories so they wouldn’t be scarred for life. We became a… partnership of sorts, making me the most well-fed demon and him the highest achieving angel. To celebrate our successes, I took him to a new trendy bar last night and we got super drunk on fruity cocktails. And here we are now, with my cute red dress on the floor next to his black jeans.

‘Yes. I did. Because it was on top of me, suffocating me, and now I have a mouthful of your dumb feathers. Why are they even out? Put them away please?’ I ask harshly, injecting more annoyance into my voice than I feel, and Felix sighs, rolling his shoulders without moving from his position of being sprawled out on his front in my bed, and his wings slowly shrink, diminishing into his strong back, the only trace of them the two small bumps between his shoulder blades.

‘Don’t call my feathers dumb. I put a lot of effort into looking after them,’ he mumbles, voice still muffled in his pillow, and I roll my eyes, letting myself fall back against the bed. ‘Wouldn’t be able to tell. Coarse and ratty, they are,’ I tease half-heartedly, both of us knowing his feathers are softer than silk. ‘Like your hair,’ he replies in his wickedly deep voice, his amusement obvious in his tone, and I let out an outraged noise.

‘My hair is beautifully healthy, thank you. You should know – had your hands in it for hours last night,’ I pout, annoyed, as I pull the covers up around me, shivering. The room is absolutely freezing, due to the cold weather and the fact that I’m only in Felix’s thin white shirt and a pair of pants, so I can’t help but inch closer to him, his body radiating warmth. He doesn’t reply, but I don’t have any objections. I like my lazy morning lie-ins and it’d be nice to get a couple more hours of sleep.

‘Oh, shit,’ he says a few minutes later, sounding wide awake now, just as I’m beginning to drop off back to sleep, and I let out a loud huff of annoyance. ‘What?’ ‘I slept with you,’ he says as though he’s just found it out, lifting his head up from the pillow and looking at me with wide eyes. ‘Did you forget? I thought it was pretty memorable,’ I say offhandedly, amused. ‘It was. But I… I slept with you,’ he says, turning over and staring up at the ceiling, blinking in disbelief. ‘Right. I’m confused,’ I say, wondering if he’s lost his mind or something. My pussy’s good, but not that good. Or maybe it is? God knows. Actually, let’s hope God doesn’t know. She’ll probably kill Felix. Oh, right. I get why he’s freaking out now.

‘Oh, no. Angel boy’s having a mental breakdown because he fucked a demon, and God’s not gonna be happy,’ I tease in a light voice, holding back my laughter, and Felix sits up in bed, looking distraught. ‘She’s gonna kill me. She will actually kill me,’ he says quietly before dropping his head into his hands with a dramatic fake sob. ‘Oh, calm down. She doesn’t even need to know,’ I say, immensely amused, and Felix turns to me with distraught eyes. ‘She’ll know!’ ‘How? Unless one of us tells her, she won’t know,’ I say pointedly, telling him to keep his mouth shut but in nicer words.

‘But… she’s God. Won’t she just know?’ he asks, eyes wide like an innocent little kid, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’re not the first angel I’ve fucked, Lix.’ ‘I’m not?’ he asks, sounding sceptical, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘Don’t sound so disbelieving. But, anyway, she’s never found out about those before. As long as you don’t blab, it’ll be fine,’ I say, and he nods, looking like he’s on the verge of tears.

‘Lix, relax. Stop panicking. You’re ruining the morning-after mood,’ I say softly after a minute of him just staring at the wall unseeingly. I slide my arms around his waist, pulling him down to lie beside me, and I curl into him instantly, revelling in the warmth of his bare skin. His arm comes around me, holding me against him, and I can sense him relaxing a little. I lay a hand on his chest, over the red lipstick marks that stain his skin, drawing patterns with my fingers, and after a few minutes, he puts his hand over mine, making me look up at him.

He takes me by surprise when he leans down and presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. My eyes flutter shut after the initial surprise, and I melt into him, hand sliding up from his chest to around the back of his neck, the short soft hairs at the nape of his neck tickling the pads of my fingers. His velvety lips are firm against mine, our mouths moving in sync, and I let out little breaths and whines against his mouth as his hands leisurely travel over my body, giving me butterflies in my stomach when his tongue slides into my mouth.

We break apart after a few minutes, the kiss leaving me breathless, and his lips quirk up in an amused grin. He might be the most angelic… angel in Heaven, but he touched me, kissed me, fucked me like a demon. ‘You’re cute,’ he murmurs, briefly pressing his lips to my forehead, and I try to ignore the little thrill in my chest, pouting at him instead. ‘I’m an evil demon that feeds on human fear. I’m not cute,’ I mumble, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘You are. You’re a cute evil demon that feeds on human fear,’ he replies with a grin, and I roll my eyes. ‘Shut it, angel boy, you’re the cute one here.’ ‘Here I was thinking you found me sexy.’ ‘In your dreams, Lix,’ I murmur amusedly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Not what you were saying last night.’ ‘…Shut up.’

He laughs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I feel warm and secure in his arms. His angel aura is definitely shining through – it feels like nothing could harm me if he’s here. We cuddle in a comfortable silence, his fingers running through my hair soothingly, and my eyes flutter shut after a little while, slumber beginning to take me. ‘What happens now?’ he murmurs, bringing me back from my snooze, and I resist the urge to put my fist through his chest.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, suppressing a yawn, and he sighs gently as I move off him, lying beside him so I can look him in the eyes. ‘Where do we… go from here?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Um… you go back to Heaven and I go back to Hell,’ I reply, knowing that that’s not the kind of answer he’s looking for, and he rolls his eyes. ‘You know I don’t mean location. I mean… with us,’ he says tentatively, and I don’t react for a moment. ‘Are you asking me what we are?’ I ask, a little stunned, and he nods, looking like he wished he never asked.

‘We’re an angel and demon that have teamed up for our own interests, and we got drunk and slept together, which won’t affect our business partnership. Right?’ I say slowly, and I feel guilt twist in my heart when the hope disappears from his pretty brown eyes. ‘Right. Yeah. I just thought…’ he trails off, turning onto his back and not looking at me. ‘Thought what?’ I ask carefully, and he’s silent for a moment before sighing. ‘I thought that maybe it was something more. I mean… we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I guess I have a bit of a… crush on you?’ he stammers, ending his sentence as a question as though he’s not quite sure.

He’s still not looking at me, and the words hit me like a ton of bricks. Felix, God’s favourite angel, has a crush on me, Lucifer’s favourite girl and a princess of the 9th circle of Hell? I’m not quite sure how to react to the words, just blinking in surprise for a moment. ‘You have a crush on me? Are you sure?’ I ask, and he lets out a little laugh, eyes still on the ceiling. ‘Yep, pretty sure. I’ve had a few months to think about it,’ he says offhandedly, and my mouth falls open. ‘You’ve had a crush on me the whole time?’ I demand, and he finally looks at me, nodding sheepishly.

‘Why didn’t you say anything, stupid?’ I exclaim, hitting his chest gently, and he lets out a light chuckle. ‘I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.’ ‘What friendship?’ I ask jokingly, and he looks at me deadpan. ‘Sorry. But seriously, are we, like, high schoolers? No. We’re centuries old supernatural beings. If you had a crush on me, you should’ve just told me, and taken me on a date. What is wrong with you?’ I demand, and he blinks at me several times. ‘Did you just say I should’ve taken you on a date?’ he asks, stunned, and I let out an annoyed noise. ‘Yes, keep up.’

‘But… you’re a demon, and I’m an angel.’ ‘Forbidden romances are better than normal ones. Like Cleopatra and Mark, Tristan and Isolde, Pyramus and Thisbe, Romeo and Juli-’ ‘Every one of those couples had a tragic end,’ Felix says dryly, an amused smile on his face, and I roll my eyes. ‘They were mortal, and were forbidden by their parents. It’s different.’ ‘Oh, yeah, we have God and Lucifer to deal with instead,’ he says sarcastically, making me raise an eyebrow. ‘Lucifer won’t care. It’s God that’s the issue. An easily solvable issue,’ I grin, and his face falls.

‘Are you plotting against God?’ he demands, looking completely outraged. ‘Don’t look so shocked, it’s not blasphemy for me. I’m a demon, stupid. But, no, I’m not plotting against her. I’m just gonna… talk to her,’ I say mildly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re gonna… talk to God? To get her to let us date?’ he asks, sounding disbelieving, and I nod simply. ‘She’ll kill you,’ he replies, eyes sparkling with mirth, and I just grin. ‘I think you’ll find I can be quite… persuasive,’ I reply, dragging my fingertips across his chest gently, the feeling of my long red nails lightly scraping his skin making his amusement disappear, a shaky breath leaving his lips. He blinks a few times, knocking himself out of his little trance. ‘I’m not sure trying to seduce her will work,’ he says lightly, and I smirk at him. ‘Oh, I know. I’m planning something else for her. It’s you I’m trying to seduce,’ I murmur, resting my thumb against my lower lip with a small smile, making my eyes all big, and I see him visibly gulp.

‘It’s working,’ he says distractedly, sliding his arms around me and pulling me on top of him, and I meet his mouth in a kiss, unable to keep the grin off my face as our lips move against each other in a way that numbs my mind. ‘Wait, wait,’ he says after a few seconds, breaking away from me. ‘Does this mean you like me too?’ he asks, looking hopeful, and I think for a moment. ‘You’ve got potential. You’re… handsome, and your personality isn’t totally annoying,’ I admit begrudgingly, heart skipping a beat at the big smile that comes across his face. ‘But,’ I add, making his smile fall a little, ‘some of the appeal is the fact that you’re a pure soul, a heavenly little angel, and I’m quite the opposite. I wanna knock your halo off, angel boy, so you better hope I don’t get bored when I’ve done so.’

He doesn’t react with the hurt I expected, a small smirk playing at his lips instead, and before I can realise that we’re moving, he’s rolled us over, his body hovering over mine. His locks fall over his eyes, casting shadows across his face, and his grin makes him look more like the demons I walk among than the angel he truly is. ‘Don’t worry about getting bored, y/n,’ he murmurs in his sinfully deep voice, one of his hands coming to rest at the base of my throat and making my skin burn hot with desire. I can’t help but mirror his grin, impressed at this very out of character behaviour. ‘Why not, Lix?’ I ask teasingly, and he just smirks, hand tightening at my neck, his sparkly eyes locking with mine. He captures my mouth in a passionate and desperate kiss, murmuring against my lips; ‘I’ll keep you entertained.’

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stubbychaos · 5 years ago

Text

The First Time He Sees Her

A one-shot for Saviin’ika

This goes hand-in-hand with chapter 1 of Saviin’ika, for those who might not have read it yet

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Paz sees his nurse before he meets her for the first time and is stunned by her selflessness and beauty.

Rating: T for language (there are a couple F-bombs bc Paz has a sailor’s mouth tbh) and the tiniest bit of violence since Paz is injured.

Word Count: 3,000ish

Warnings: Unless you count tooth-rotting fluff and Paz absolutely crushing on his little nurse, there are no warnings!! There’s mentions of Paz’s injury from the first chapter, but nothing too descriptive!

A/N: Thank you to the anon who sent that super sweet ask about me writing from Paz’s POV. I’m not sure if this will meet your expectations, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!! I actually had a lot of fun writing this much fluff after writing all the angst for the newest chapter. I might do some more of these if you guys are interested in certain parts of the story?? <3

The first time Paz sees you, you’re smiling so brightly and it’s enough to make him freeze him from across the street where he’s found himself cemented to, his visor instantly fixated on your plush pink lips and the whites of your teeth.

You're not the one he's smiling at and for some reason that feels like the biggest crime in the galaxy--and Paz has witnessed many crimes and atrocities in his lifetime.

He’s clutching a canvas bag filled with several supplies and fresh food for his tribe as he watches you crouch down in front of a crying little boy who must have tripped and fallen, his little palms bleeding as you carefully inspect them with furrowed brows.

Unintentionally, Paz finds himself cocking his head to the side as you shuffle through a small cross-body bag, seeming to search for something in particular and your smile widens as you pull out a little glass jar with some sort of soft purple substance in it.

A smile stretches across Paz’s lips as he watches you completely drop to your bare knees on the cracked pavement so you’re more eye-level with the child and you begin the tender task of rubbing the ointment into his minor wounds, all while reassuring him with a bright smile that everything is going to be alright. Your smile is a soft, comforting one, Paz notices as you easily cheer up the little boy with warm words, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkling and a part of him is tempted to get a little closer to you so he can hear your voice better. It’s a breathy, lilting melody that barely reaches his ears underneath his helmet, but the sound of it comforts him and he’s not even the one who’s injured.

You’re asking the child innocent little questions to distract him--“What’s your name, sweetheart? Where are your parents? Do you have siblings or pets? What’s your favorite color? Yellow? Mine is purple but I like blue as well!”--and Paz finds your dedication to this child that you don’t even know so sweet and honorable when he’s only ever dealt with scumbags in the village.

You’re a breath of fresh air, Paz realizes with a soft grin, watching as you do everything possible to comfort the tiny boy who seems to be warming up to you, growing shy when you tenderly ruffle his messy curls before you pull some gauze out of your bag to bandage his hands. You tend to his little wounds with the utmost care, as though you’re nursing graver wounds and Paz nearly chuckles when you inform the boy he is far stronger than any soldier that you’ve ever met.

Then he notices your long, shiny mane and he melts.

Paz thinks he’s never seen such a beautiful head of hair in his entire life. The long waves tumble down the length of your spine with a healthy shine, the locks curled at the ends and he’s in absolute awe, knowing that you must have spent years growing out your beautiful mane. Then he spots little bundles of violets tucked behind each of your ears and his smile grows tenfold, not used to seeing such vibrancy in the little village that resides above the covert.

Paz thinks you must be some sort of beacon of hope and purity in a place filled with criminals and greedy bounty hunters and his breath hitches in his throat and his heart stops beating as you remove one of the little bundles of flowers from their home behind your ear. His eyes follow your tiny hand as you pluck a flower from the bouquet and offer it to the blushing child who’s no longer crying, but instead smiling shyly at you as he happily accepts it.

The Mandalorian tenses a little when a man steps out of the building that you’re kneeling in front of on the sidewalk and he watches as the man roughly grabs you by the elbow and pulls you to your feet with no regard for your own comfort. Even with the soft smile you give the little boy as he waves goodbye to you, it no longer meets your eyes and Paz notices the way you drop your head as the aggressive man tugs you back into the building.

Paz spots the sign on the outside of the building and realizes it’s an infirmary, and that you must be some sort of doctor or medic and everything suddenly makes sense--your kindness towards the child and how you hadn’t hesitated to step outside to tend to his minor wounds.

Paz isn’t even aware there’s an infirmary in the village and he’s grateful for this new information, especially since him and so many others in the tribe are always getting injured during training and sparring. As he makes his way back to the enclave a smile still stretched along his concealed features, he hopes he will soon again see you--the pretty medic that wears bright violets in your hair.

It happens sooner than he wishes for, to be honest.

Two weeks later, Paz is storming into the infirmary that he had never known to exist before you, gripping his bloody side as he searches specifically for you and immediately, his eyes zone in on the small figure that’s hunched over in a chair at the front desk.

At first, you don’t even notice him, utterly focused on finishing whatever the hell it is you’re writing down in a big white binder, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your brows furrowed in concentration.

“You.”

Immediately, your head whips up and it takes Paz a moment to remember how to speak when your wide, expressive eyes somehow meet his; a part of him actually worries that you can somehow see him, despite his helmet. Almost instantly, your gaze lowers to his chest and he knows the look of fear all too well and dread settles deep in Paz’s chest when he realizes that you’re afraid of him.

His voice is strained as he tries to ignore the intense pain flaring like hot coals in both sides of his ribs, “I need medical attention... please.”

“Oh! Okay,” You quickly stand up, still refusing to look at his helmet and you tuck a non-existent lock of hair behind your ear--it must be a nervous habit, Paz realizes and manages to smile a little at your awkwardness, actually forgetting that you can’t even see him, “I think there might be someone who can--”

“No!” Paz hisses through clenched teeth, his ribs aching fiercely and he has to force himself to lower his voice to something softer so he won’t frighten you when he notices how badly you flinch at the sound of his deep voice, “I want you to tend to my wounds.”

Paz watches the way your nostrils flare a little, the muscles in your jaw slightly shifting as you force yourself to nod and immediately, he dislikes how frightened you are of him as he stalks past you and into the slim hallway and he realizes he’s already ruined your first impression of him. Angrily, he struggles to remove his heavy equipment as you quietly usher him into your little office. He’s a little surprised to find your desk and the window sill decorated with well-cared for flowers and plants, the vibrant flora seeming so out of place in such a bleak village, though it still comforts him for some reason.

“W-Would you like some help sir?”

Your voice--so quiet and so fucking sweet--is filled with such hesitation and is still just as much of a melody as he remembers it to be from the first time he’d seen you tending to that child.

Immediately, he turns to you and curses the Maker because you look so frightened by his appearance, your tiny hands wringing together nervously and he forces himself to relax and drop his guarded facade when you offer to help him remove his armor. Paz is grateful when you bravely step forward to remove his cuirass, taking great care and caution as you fiddle with the latches with small, skilled hands. He’s surprised that you somehow manage to figure out how to remove his chest plate and he nearly laughs through the pain when you fumble with the weight of his Beskar cradled in your small arms as you carry it to your desk.

He remains complacent as you return to help him remove all of his extra armor and padding, though he has to force himself not to grunt when you help him untuck his tunics from the waistband of his pants. You’re asking him questions about his injuries and what he was stabbed with--your voice that same soft melody--and he wants to apologize for being an asshole after rudely answering your gentle questions, but all he can focus on are your small hands and how cold they are against his warm skin and how he’s not fucking used to being treated so delicately.

He’s being an absolute asshole towards you and he loathes that you’re clearly growing more frustrated with him with every sarcastic sentence he offers you, but all he can focus on is how he can feel your tepid puffs of breath hitting his bare skin as you stitch his wounds, your pretty face only inches away from his stomach. You’re mumbling something about how lucky he is that the stab wound isn’t deep and the thought of him being stabbed and body-slammed by another Mandalorian makes him ‘lucky’ nearly has him laughing.

He decides not to mention that he had initially been distracted by the pretty village nurse and your pretty flowers during the middle of an intense sparring match and he makes some sort of sardonic remark before he can stop himself. He’s muttering some nonsense of how you should be used to violence and gore, what with being a doctor, but you’re quick to correct him and Paz admires the irritation in your small voice.

He thinks that he must not be the first to judge you and what you must have been through.

“I’m a nurse, actually. The infirmary only has one doctor and he barely works here since he’s always traveling,” You correct him, eyes trained on the way the curved hook of the needle pierces his skin, nylon thread bringing the torn flesh back together, and Paz feels sorry when he notices the exhaustion evident in your hushed voice, “Sorry if you expected to be treated by an actual doctor when you stormed into the the infirmary asking for my help. There’s not really a huge need for medical professionals in the village–most people are dead before they even make it here.”

Paz is surprised by the bleakness in your soft voice and how you almost seem to put yourself down for only being a nurse, as if your job is somehow not important and he remembers how kindly you had treated the little boy’s extremely minor wounds with such tender care. It seems unfair that someone with such a kind, tender heart could feel such insecurities, but he thinks you must not be used to being treated with respect.

“Why did you ask for me?”

The question throws Paz off guard and he struggles to form a coherent response when he feels the curved hook of a sterile needle piercing his bloody flesh. Paz wants to tell you that he’d seen you comforting that distraught child just a couple weeks ago--that he’d witnessed you tending to the tiniest of scrapes on the boy’s hands that really didn’t even require medical attention. He wants to tell you that he wants one of the little violets that’s tucked behind your ear, but he knows it would sound ridiculous and perhaps childish, so he responds with:

“You were the only one that actually looked competent.”

You still wear an intense expression of confliction, but you nod slowly and Paz is grateful when you continue to stitch up his wounds with great precision and grace, your fingers moving so fluidly like water against his bloodied flesh. He knows he’s only making everything worse for himself when you kindly and nervously ask him to stop fidgeting around so much, but the soft feeling of your fingers brushing against his skin every now and then is too much and he--

“Fine. Just hurry up.”

The way he says it is so fucking rude and he knows it and cringes the second he sees the expression of disappointment and distaste among your lovely features, you eyes barely glancing up at him through the lenses of your big glasses. You must be so used to cruelty from others and he sees it in the way you shake your head a little as you finish his stitches, or how your eyes momentarily dart up to his helmet and hands, as if confirming you’re not going to be struck or beaten by him.

Then your hands are on Paz’s tender ribs and he nearly jumps right off the cot at how soft and delicately you are pressing your hand against his damaged torso, like he’s made of the most fragile glass and not of impenetrable Beskar. Suddenly, you’re standing up, rambling something about a bacta salve that you made yourself and Paz is quick in his attempts to stop you, feeling utterly undeserving of such medical care after he already antagonized you enough, though you don’t pay attention and he watches as you makes your way to your desk.

He sits up a little higher when he notices you struggling to reach the top shelf that’s connected to your desk and how you have to stand on your tippy toes to reach for a big jar that’s filled with a bright blue substance. He’s nearly halfway off the cot to help you, but your fingers gently curl around the glass jar before you’re approaching him once again. There’s a tiny smile tugging at your lips from the mere thought of relieving the ache in his ribs and Paz is quick to catch your wrist before your bacta-clad fingers can touch the side of his stomach.

“I don’t want your pity.”

Your voice is more confident when you speak and Paz grows warm at how willing you are to argue with him, “It is not pity, Mandalorian.”

You smile sweetly at him, a gentle expression that immediately has him loosening his grip around your tiny wrist, “Then what is it?”

“Kindness.”

Paz stares at you, absolutely stunned as he drops your wrist and lets you tend to his bruised ribs with the softest pressure possible. He tilts his helmet to stare up at you and wonders how something so sweet and soft has lasted this long in such a cruel village. He feels the soft pressure of your cold fingers against his ribs and smiles underneath his helmet, though it’s a sad one as he thinks of all the ungrateful patients you must get on a daily-basis and he longs to tell you that he’s grateful for your tender touch,

Instead, his mouth grows dry and he remains silent as you finish tending to his wounds and it’s not until you silently offer him the little jar of bacta salve that he shows his gratitude with a sharp nod and a tiny ‘thank you’. Paz feels awful for not having credits to give the sweet nurse, but he figures that money is something you do not care much for and simply accepts the precious gift without another word. He thinks of your selflessness with the little boy from the other day as you kindly escort him out of your office and briefly wonders if you’re just this genuinely sweet with everyone you meet.

As Paz leaves your office, utterly aware of you sheepishly following him, he’s half attempted to give you some sort of payment for your hard work and dedication to your job, but before he can even reach into his pouch, an angry voice is calling out your name.

“I thought I told you to have those reports done today by sundown and it’s almost kriffing midnight. I’m tired of telling you how to do your job! Am I not punishing you hard enough? Is that why you’re too stupid to understand how to do something as fucking basic as filing reports?”

Paz instantly sees the way your head lowers in shame as the same man who had forced you back into the infirmary weeks ago antagonizes you and before he even realizes what he’s doing, his fingers are wrapped around the handle of his vibroblade, ready to kill the man if he chooses to harm you severely. The Mandalorian doesn’t like the way this man berates you--how he refers to the sweet nurse as pathetic and incompetent and his heart aches in his chest when he hears how defeated and broken you suddenly sound as you attempt to apologize.

After being told to leave the infirmary, you quickly turn around and Paz is just as surprised as you are as the two of you face each other. Your eyes are fixated on the firm grip he has on his vibroblade and it takes Paz a moment to realize that the poor nurse is not only afraid of that cruel man, but him as well. Slowly, Paz removes his hand from the handle of his blade and watches sadly as you quickly skitter past him, clearly terrified of what cruel men were capable of and he feels it deep within his chest as he watches you quickly make your way down the rocky sidewalk.

“Nurse.”

Paz barely speaks, but it’s enough for you to freeze in your tracks, not uttering a single word as he slowly approaches you. Your shoulders are practically touching your earlobes with how tense you are and shame fills his entire being when he realizes just how terrified you are of him--just how much pain you must have endured if you’re this afraid.

A tear slowly slides down your cheek and...

Maker, what have you been through to feel such intense fear? Could they really beat down someone so precious and innocent to the point where you fear that everyone wishes to harm you?

“It’s too late and dangerous to be walking alone. I’m going to walk you home.”

Paz reaches out to grab your small elbow, but you quickly back away with an intense flinch and he fears that you’ve somehow decided to mistrust everyone you meet. Against his better judgment, he offers you his beloved vibroblade, giving you the option to stab him if you start to feel threatened at any point during the walk home and finally, your beautiful eyes meet his through the protection of his visor.

Paz stares at the beautiful flowers tucked behind your ears with reverence as you question him in a small, timid voice, “Haven’t you uh, been stabbed enough for one day?”

Before he can even attempt to stop himself, the Mandalorian finds himself laughing at your innocent question and nods a little, “Yes, I think I have. Now, let’s get going.”

You offer him the tiniest smile, something only slightly similar to what you’d given the little boy from weeks ago, but Paz is willing to accept anything at this point, even if it’s a ghost of a smile from his tiny nurse.

His heart swells when your fingers eventually curl into the crook of his elbow and he can feel the soft pressure against his skin as you allow him to walk you home.

Paz quickly decides that your company is just as lovely as your warm smile.

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @haloangel391

#THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE #I hope y'all enjoy it too <33 #my writing #if u guys want more of Paz's POV pls let me know #THIS DUMB BITCH LOVES HIS NURSE #AND IS OVERWHELMED BY HER THAT HE MAKES A FOOL OF HIMSELF

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