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lgcjino · 4 months

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FILE: MOON JINO _ END OF YEAR ’23 CRITIQUE.

› WHAT WERE SOME OF YOUR GREATEST ACCOM-PLISHMENTS THIS YEAR? — OUT OF ALL OF THEM, WHICH WAS THE MOST MEMORABLE FOR YOU?

a lot could have prefaced his answer — he could have said anything because much like last year, everything this year had changed for the better, in a different way. because for jino, no day was really the same — at least that’s how he saw it. but the one that comes to mind is this: “finally figuring out what i want.” he had spent the last year and a half mulling about, feet in the mud, trying to sort out whether any of this was actually for him. sure, coach nam had helped him regard modeling as an option — he had minseo to really thank for getting him to really see that the actor path could be a more foreseeable career. he had never been one to watch television outside of the infrequent sports matches he’d catch here and there. it was really through minseo’s guidance (read: insistent nagging to watch any and every new drama that came out) that helped him get a better idea of just what he could offer. through it, he began to think: hm, maybe i could do that — which led to him changing his path, finally.

› WHAT AREA(S) DO YOU THINK YOU’VE PERSONALLY IMPROVED ON SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR?

“not being so careless in my goals and actually having goals to see through, if that could be called an improvement.” jino sees the past year for what’s worth: seeing how he’s grown from just letting the company do what it wanted with him to actually exerting and seeing through his own ideas. such as when he got to pair up with a designer for the latest event hosted by the agency. while he didn’t have so many thoughts or ideas, he was able to fully put the things he actually believed in into words and relayed them properly to the designer. as someone who usually went with the flow and never wants to appear demanding or commanding, jino relishes in the comfort of being simple and going at his own ease and pace. so, changing career paths and getting opportunities came with his own voice and opinions that he is finally comfortable with expressing. this includes finally figuring out what kind of goals and just what he wants out of his career.

› WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR PERSONAL GOALS FOR 2024?

“i want to own a fish!" a personal goal for him is to become a fish parent — ever since he’s been cooped up in the dorms, he has always wanted to become a parent to a pretty little goldfish. he knows the commitment is a lot and owning and caring for a fish is no easy job but he thinks he can handle the responsibility — he just signed a lease on his apartment ( albeit with the help of hyunsoo and his eye for seeing through obvious scams ) — and wants to prove it. “ — and also get a gig that my grandma can tell her friends about.” a more professional goal jino wants to see through this year is that he wants to gain experience. outside of events hosted by the company, and classes he attends to better understand his job, he lacks experience. so, for 2024, he hopes to better himself in order to land an audition, and eventually a role — however small — in something plausible, something his grandparents can gush about even if he only gets 5 seconds of screen time.

› OUT OF ALL THE ACTORS, WHAT DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES YOU STAND OUT FROM ALL OF THEM?

never one to compare himself to others — he gets enough of that when he’s standing in the same room as sujin ( insert eye roll and internal ugh ) — but when he thinks of himself, two points stand out and they’re, unsurprisingly, the ones that are always paired when talking he becomes the person in question. “my optimism and blind resilience.” he isn’t sure about anyone else but he knows that his resilience is one to be on par of the greats — of the impossible, probably. his resilience is what brought him all the way from new zealand to south korea despite all the things he would be leaving behind. the fact that he had left in the first place — at quite literally a drop of the hat — was due to this. his optimism only further prodded this decision into existence. his optimism is just as blind as his resilience — overcoming and at times overwhelming to anyone who comes into a meter radius of the male. he likes to see the better things out of, well, everything and can’t quite understand dwelling in the doubts or the negatives. for jino, he believes that good things will come — they will. ( just like how he went about his trainee period believing that he will one day figure out what he wanted — lo and behold, nearly a year and a half later, he’s there. or when he put his heart on the line and went out of his way to tell jaekyung how he felt — even if he only exposed just a small part of his feelings rather than the entire depth of them — he only believed good could come out of it, forgoing the doubts that it could have gone horribly wrong at any moment )

› ASIDE FROM YOUR MAIN CAREER PATH, ARE THERE ANY TYPES OF GIGS OUTSIDE OF IT THAT YOU WOULD BE INTERESTED IN DOING IN THE FUTURE?

“hosting could be fun.” he doesn’t know much about it — just the bits and pieces here and there from when he remembers helping cherry with her own interview / host abilities. it had been fun being the contestant / interviewee, and answering her questions had been interesting, even if the questions were out there and he was no prepared for them whatsoever. but seeing her do it, made him think about — and it was a thought that loomed in the back of his mind. for a later time, for after he’s gotten himself accustomed to acting — to when he’s more conscious of being more careful with his words.

#lgc:yearend2023 #지노★ ₊ solo #지노★ ₊ headcanon #879wc #also first time ever giffing anything so ... hopefully it looks .. decent lmfao

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unfoundhoney · 3 years

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a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

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writemedrawme · 3 years

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The One Who Didn't Like You, Pt. 1

Dennis (Split) x reader

Description: You like Dennis, but Dennis has never liked you. One bad day makes you bold and you try to tease him, but his reaction is not what you expected...

Warning(s): Angst, arguing, cursing, sexual/suggestive content

Why couldn’t you have fallen in love with Kyle from Food City? Or Jace from high-school band? Or Louis from Tinder? No, you had to catch feelings for the person least interested in you. Miss Patricia said that was wrong, she seemed to think he tolerated you more than he did. Jade and Barry shared the sentiment, albeit a bit more dramatically, they tried to tell you he was completely definitely in love with you. Kevin even argued that he must have some feelings for you. And Hedwig, well Hedwig kept asking if you could name your kids after him. You hadn’t talked to many of the others about it, you weren’t as close with them. However, even with people whose opinions you would usually trust without thought assuring you that Dennis did not find you disgusting, you were utterly unconvinced.

Dennis was a refined, intelligent, put together man. He probably preferred a woman more along the lines of those standards. You did not fit that image. Your dismissal of Dennis’s alleged feelings were not solely based on your insecurities, however. As comfortable as you were with everyone from Patricia to even the Beast and all the personalities in between, you had never been able to create a connection between yourself and Dennis. It wasn’t for lack of trying, you used to always try to talk to Dennis when he was around. He wasn’t rude to you by any means, you could just tell that he was uncomfortable. He averted his eyes, answered quickly, and never initiated a conversation. At first you thought maybe you had an unevenly buttoned shirt, or a stain on your jeans, that maybe his OCD was the reason for his discomfort. However, no matter how you dressed or meticulously inspected yourself it was never enough.

You couldn’t believe you had fallen for him in the first place. It wasn’t as if you were in love when you first met him, though you couldn’t lie, seeing his body language and expressions did make you fairly attracted to him. You had primarily only found him attractive for the longest time. Your infatuation didn’t start until one night when you had stayed over at their place. You were up very late, sitting in the kitchen and sipping on a glass of water. Dennis had heard when you tripped over your own pajama pants and fell outside his door. You hadn’t disclosed your reasoning for requesting to stay at their home, but it was clear something was bothering you. Dennis approached you slowly.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you mumbled.

“You alright?” he asked. He stayed a good distance away from you, not quite willing to sit beside you or even stand beside you.

You rubbed your eyes, hoping he would think the redness was from your hand and not your tears. “Yeah, fine.”

Dennis simply stared at you for a second before he turned around and left without a word. You almost burst into tears then, not sure what you had expected, but hoping for something more. It was a good thing you didn’t though, because mere moments later he returned. You couldn’t speak you were so shocked when he walked up behind you, placing a much too big for you sweater around your shoulders. The warmth you felt startled you, as you honestly hadn’t even realized you were cold. Dennis smoothed the shoulders down over you, pressing out all the wrinkles. It was because of his OCD, but in that moment it just felt like a tender touch.

“It’s my old one, you can have it. I know Kevin makes it pretty cold in here.” He rumbled, his low voice sending more shivers down your spine.

You barely mumbled a thank you as he left, staring wide eyed at his retreating back.

It was sad that this was what turned the tables for you, but now anytime you saw him you felt a rush of emotions; nervousness, attraction, longing… honestly it was embarrassing. From that moment on you were sure every interaction was different, at least in your head. You thought he looked at you with a slightly difficult look in his eye, but it was probably nothing.

Part of you hoped he wouldn’t be home tonight, but part of you hoped he would be. You had requested again to stay with them again tonight, and Jade had cleared it with you. As you wandered down the endless corridors to get to their home, you tried not to think too much about Dennis and just focus on the directions you’d memorized to get to them. Two rights and a left later and you stepped up to their main door, raising a fist to knock.

“Hold on a minute,” you heard Jade stumble to the door, checking when you heard a thud and a curse. The door swung open and Jade froze, expression shifting from a welcoming smile to a rather coy one. “Well hello, foxy lady,” she teased.

You flushed, pulling down your skirt. “Shut up,” You stepped by her, hanging your purse on the coat rack. “thanks again for letting me stay over… again,”

Jade ignored you, striding over and spinning you around to face her. She bit her lip, giving you a once over. “Well if you’re tryna catch his attention you’re definitely on the right track,”

“I’m not, shut up!” You were lying. You definitely picked out a pleated black and yellow plaid skirt with an oversized black off the shoulder sweater for a reason – and the lack of bra was also for a reason. It wasn’t too obvious, though. You weren’t that brave.

Jade was, though. She reached out and gave your boob a squeeze, laughing when you squealed and swatted her away. “What’s this for then?”

You tried to hide your smile. “I just felt like it.”

“Well I’m impressed but I’m not the one you’re trying to impress,” Jade giggled. “Sit down, I’ll start the movie.”

You flopped onto the couch, pulling your skirt down over your thighs. It was pretty short…

You had a bad day. A really bad day. Your roommate was a bitch but she charged low rates. On days when she was particularly bad you stayed over with Kevin and the alters. In your heated rush to pack your bag and head out you had made a rash decision. You were mad at your roommate and your landlord and some asshole on the freeway and when you thought of him, Dennis too. So you were going to make it hard for him to ignore you. You knew he had a thing for pleated skirts and obviously braless girls, Barry had made fun of his fashion taste enough in the past. You were gonna piss everyone off today. However, as you walked down the corridors your anger cooled, and you had begun to realize what you were wearing, just as you were now, sitting on the couch.

You couldn’t focus on the movie at all. You were too stressed that Dennis would take the light at some point tonight, or that Jade would convince him to. You didn’t think she noticed your discomfort. By the end of the movie you had wiggled your skirt so low it was hanging lower on your hips, and Jade was almost asleep. She let out a yawn, stretching her arms above her head.

“It’s late girl,” she stood, rubbing her eyes. “I’m gonna head to sleep.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully she’d go to sleep and nobody else would get the light, and if she didn’t you’d get to bed fast anyway. “Okay, I’ll go soon too.”

“Gnight, Y/N.” Jade mumbled, shuffling to her room.

You stayed there for a moment before finally getting up the energy to stand. You were tired too. You winced at your skirt’s waistband cutting into your hips. You glanced around the corner, making sure there was no sign of Jade before you pulled up your skirt. Geez, it barely covered your ass. You hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone on your way there…

You decided tonight you would grab yourself a glass of water first and then head to bed, so you grabbed your bag and made your way to the kitchen. You stood on your tippy toes and grabbed yourself a glass. You filled it with water and began to walk to your room, but, because you were ever a klutz, tripped over your own feet. Now thankfully you didn’t fall, but you did definitely drop the entire glass on the floor. You cursed. The glass somehow didn’t shatter, but did leave a rather large puddle and roll all the way under the table. You decided you would tackle the puddle first. You managed to soak most of it up with half a roll of paper towels pretty quickly, you just needed the glass. You knelt down, spotting it on the other side of the table. Shifting to your hands and knees you almost had to go completely under the table, but you did manage to grab it. Just as you grasped the glass, you heard a voice behind you.

“Fucking hell.”

You knew that voice anywhere. You cringed inwardly, scooting out from under the table and trying your best not to look at Dennis, who was undoubtedly disgusted by the mess he knew you just made. “Sorry, I dropped my glass… I cleaned it up, and the glass didn’t even break, see? I -"

You broke and looked up at him, but froze when you saw him. His expression was not one you had seen before. His fists were clenched and so was his jaw. His eyes were not on the damp floor or the unbroken glass, but on your skirt. You swallowed. Oh yeah, your skirt. You were just bent over in front of him. He had to be blind to not have seen all the way to your thong.

His chest heaved under his white night t shirt and you could tell his teeth were clenched as he spoke. “What… what are you doing?”

“I…” you swallowed, slowly standing up. “Cleaning up my mess…”

He wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He just stared at you, his face and body so tense it looked like he was fighting something. You pulled down your skirt a little, and his eyes darted down to it.

“Why are you wearing that? You never dress like this,”

“You know what I dress like?” you cringed inwardly. That was not the conversation you should be having. You didn’t know what conversation you should be having, but if wasn’t that.

“Yes, I’ve been around you and seen what you wear. It isn’t that.”

You felt a little offended by his attitude towards you. Usually he was passive, but right now he was being so aggressive. “Why does it matter? Maybe I had a date or I just thought I looked good,”

His expression changed. “Why did you have a date?”

“I didn’t,” you admitted, half wishing you’d have lied. “But I could’ve,”

“With who?”

You blinked. “Nobody, I just said -"

“You said you could have. You could have had a date with who?”

This was a strange conversation. You could almost, almost see jealousy in Dennis's eyes. So you made a decision. If you were wrong this would be the most embarrassing moment in your life, but if you were right…

You stepped forward, pulling your skirt back up on your hips. You noted his lingering gaze. “Dennis, why does that matter? If I want a date I will go get one. I have nobody pining over me or waiting for me so I have no reason not to. So if I want to pull up my skirt and take off my bra and go find somebody who thinks I’m beautiful and wants to take me home I will. I have nothing stopping me, do I?”

You were at a standstill. You wouldn’t speak until he spoke first. You felt triumphant, confident.

Then, Dennis turned to leave.

You watched in shock as he rounded the corner, all of your confidence draining. You were wrong. “Fuck you and fuck me,” you mumbled. Tears welled in your eyes. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You shook your head, grabbing your bag and stomping down the hallway with hi.. “I said fuck you and fuck me, you asshole.”

“Why?”

You stopped, spinning to face him. “Because you can’t be a normal person. You can’t just reject me or tell me you’re not interested, you just walk away. You walk away like your better than me and you are I guess but you don’t have to be such a fucking dick about it!”

“Reject you?”

“Yes, reject me. What you think I dressed like your fantasy chick and stare at you all the time? Because I’m interested in somebody else?”

Dennis looked stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. You felt your heart beat slow. You were at another standstill, but this time he was cemented in place.

“You didn’t know that?” you asked.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me?”

You felt your heart melt as his voice broke. You thought it had been obvious. “Because… you’re sweet, deep down. You’re protective, you care so deeply for Kevin and the others, you’re smart and eloquent … I love your accent, you’re so identifiable from the others, you’re handsome and brave… because you’re you, Dennis.”

Dennis had tears welled in his eyes, and he looked like he was assessing you, searching for a reason to doubt you.

You decided to take another risk. You walked to him slowly, giving him enough time to back away if he needed. You stopped right in front of him, so close you could feel the heat coming off of his body. You moved incredibly slowly, giving him even more time to back away, but he still didn’t. So you leaned in and wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. It took him a moment but to your surprise, he slowly wrapped his arms around you too. Your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could feel it, but you could feel his too. His body was firm and warm and you never wanted to let go. You felt his breath on your ear as he nuzzled into you.

“Is this a rejection hug?” you mumbled.

“No,” Dennis’s chest rumbled as he spoke.

You squeezed him lightly, gently starting to stroke his back. It took him a moment, but you felt Dennis’s hand shakily, slowly lower. With one hand he played with the hem of your shirt, and with the other he gently rubbed the place your bra would be. You slid a hand under his shirt, letting it rest on his side and giving him permission to do the same.

His hand slid under slowly, just barely grazing your skin with his fingertips before he let himself lay his hand flat on your back. He shuddered as he felt up your bare back, imagining what was on the other side. You could feel his hesitation to touch you any further. Your body was screaming for him to touch you, but you were also scared of this being a one time thing. You loved him, this would be more than sex for you.

“Dennis?”

He retracted his hand, assuming he had crossed a line. “I’m sorry, I -"

“No no,” you grabbed his larger hand, holding it as best you could in yours. “If you want to take me into your bedroom and screw me and then pretend it never happened I can’t do that. I can’t get you for a night and never have you again, I want so much more with you. So tell me now, please.”

Dennis stared down at you as if you had three heads. “Nobody’s ever looked at me like you do,” he mumbled.

You flushed and looked away, focusing on his hand. He pulled it from your hand and instead engulfed yours with his. He gave it a squeeze. “Please don’t ever stop,” He said.

You couldn’t keep the smile that spread across your face off. You brought his hand to your cheek, pressing against him and closing your eyes. He released your hand and held your face for a moment before he moved again, threading his hand through your hair and cupping the base of you head. He watched you closely for any sign you wanted him to stop. You made sure not to give him any. Slowly, he leaned in, stopping again just before your lips touched. You stood up on your toes and pressed your mouth on his, your whole body electrifying. You’d fantasized about this for so long, and it was everything you’d ever dreamed of. He was perfect, the hand on the back of your neck firm hut not painful, his other hand traveling down your side and under your shirt to squeeze your waist. You couldn’t decide where to put your hands first. He was finally yours to hold and squeeze and just touch. Your right hand cupped his jaw, loving the feel of him moving in the kiss. Your other hand mimicked his, under his shirt and feeling up his back. You moaned into his mouth and he gripped your hair along with your neck, and you squeaked when he pulled you forwards. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I… I want…” you couldn’t get the words out, or you couldn’t decide on them, you weren’t even sure.

He understood. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

...

This is part one, do we want a part two? I may have some smut on the way... lol I'm in such need for Dennis content I'm just writing it myself.

#split x reader #split #James McAvoy #split dennis #dennis #kevin wendell crumb #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #angst #x reader #oneshot #m night shyamalan #m. night shyamalan #james mcavoy x reader #part one

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 3 years

Text

Digital Heart

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Falling, fighting, minor injuries, nausea, breathlessness

In which Genshin is an interactive RPG accessed through an immersive headset, and you find yourself pushed to play it by your friends.

~ * ~

It started with a game.

For thirty days and thirty nights, your friends have been pleading for you to play it. Genshin Impact it was called, an free immersive open-world RPG with hundreds of weapons, characters, and power ups. Accessible through a specialized headset that tracked movement, it had only been a month since the freely downloadable game’s release and it was already a success, garnering praise from the customizable main character and the interactive playstyle. Play it. Your friends beg. You’ll love it. We can play together.

You refuse at first. The game might be free, but the headset isn’t, and you need to save that money to pay for food and clothes. Alongside your financial state was your schedule, a long list of work and chores that left little time to play games with constant updates like Genshin, so you told your friends- politely, as that’s how you were raised- that it’d have to wait. They agreed, quietly.

Then the next day, they ask again. You make an excuse- too much work. They agree, again.

The second day, asking. You’re too tired, you say. Of course, they respond.

Everyday, the same question. The same request, the same demand. It wears on you, amused exasperation drawing a sigh from you everytime you open your notifications.

Play it.

You can’t.

Play it.

You don’t have time.

Play it.

You need to focus!

Play it.

…

…Alright.

Finally, you cave. You create an account, a headset en route to your house. You clear an area in your house so you don’t accidentally hit anything. The headset arrives, and you insert the batteries, said to last up to an entire day playing nonstop, a stage you dearly hope you never reach. You pull it down over your head, cringing at the thought of your hair getting so mussed, and switch it on. A long and potentially worrying warning flashes before your eyes and you blink, not used to the in-depth cameras yet, as the screen goes white.

Welcome to Genshin Impact! Please name your character… appears, and you subsequently slip down the rabbit hole.

It’s fun, you find. Your friends were right, you did like Genshin Impact, although you thank your lucky stars that you weren’t as attached as some players were, as you still had work and life to attend to. The combat and story were enjoyable, and the characters were funny and diverse in personality and playstyles. The main character, who was also your customizable avatar, was quite literally you, the story explained, a traveler from distant lands who fell face first into Teyvat by mistake and tragedy. Of course you still haven’t gotten entirely used to the whole immersion thing, and sometimes shuddered under the eerily real programming of the NPCs and characters, but that was nigh unnoticeable when focusing on fighting monsters. Your deep love for exploration and discovery surfaces, and you take as long as you want exploring every inch of the wonderfully modelled map as you follow the main story, or “Archon Quests”. You calm the great dragon Dvalin and bid your friends at Mondstadt- Kaeya, Amber, Lisa, Diluc, Jean, and Venti- goodbye, Liyue sprawling out before you in wooded forests and cloud-covered mountains. A mysterious man runs across you at the Inn, the immortal Adeptus Xiao, although you would’ve thought he was quite young due to his short stature, and you encounter Zhongli in the Harbor, along with Lady Ningguang and her subordinates, Keqing and Ganyu. A member of the malicious-seeming Fatui also greets you and introduces himself as Childe, a name you don’t trust for a second, yet find yourself getting strangely attached too. The story progresses with you at Zhongli and Ningguang’s sides, the suspicion being pointed more and more to the Fatui, and you find yourself staring up at the elegant pillars of the Golden House, the mora mint building.

You gulp. You know this is where Childe’s boss battle takes place, and you’re not sure if your team is prepared, even if you stocked up on food right before leaving the Harbor. Inhaling a deep breath, you shove the enormous front doors open, and a cutscene pulls your fear tight against your throat. Everyone’s suspicions were right- he was here to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, and you have to stop him.

Easier said than done. The cutscene of your face shows a determined, fierce expression, instead of the nervous one you had in real life, and you almost laugh. You dearly hope your characters are strong enough, and step into the arena.

Phases One and Two are relatively short, as you quickly learn to avoid using Childe’s respective elements of his Vision and Delusion while his shield is up. The battle is fun and fast-paced, and you feel a thrill in your bones as you dodge another attack before swinging your sword in retaliation. Childe stumbles, and Phase Two ends with a cutscene. The corpse of Rex Lapis, something you considered a bit gruesome, is discovered to have no gnosis, and you can feel the raw anger in the Harbinger’s voice as the air crackles and hisses. A horrible, blinding light shines, and Childe is gone.

At least, human Childe is gone. In his place floats a monstrous version of himself, nearly 14 feet tall and complete with horns and armor, and your mouth drops open slightly as you gaze at him wide eyed. But your focus is violently shifted when the floor cracks and turns to dust, sending you tumbling down into the belly of the Golden House. You land with an unceremonial thump, thankful that the creators hadn’t been cruel enough to make you feel the damage you took in-game.

And Phase Three, the final phase of Harbinger Tartaglia, commences.

He has considerably more health, and his attacks can range from irritating to deadly, you just barely dodging the falling Hydro arrows that would’ve slaughtered your current character. Of course, it doesn’t help that you’re sneaking glances at your attacker every few minutes. Your mind wanders to the lore as you shield yourself from violet lightning. Does this transformation hurt? Where does it come from? Why does it look like a moth? Maybe one day you’ll get answers.

Despite the raised difficulty, Phase Three also ends rather quickly. Your characters, it seems, were overleveled. The remainder of the Archon Quest passes, Childe reappearing once at the end, and it’s over. The screen blips off as you log out and place the headset on a table before laying on your bed and using the last few hours before bed to contemplate what you’ve just seen.

The next days quickly fall into routine. After completing all your work, you’d take an hour or two to play Genshin, leveling up your characters even more and going through various quests, Childe’s included. You see his transformation, dubbed the Foul Legacy form, again, and almost swoon before stopping and giving yourself a harsh scolding. You fulfill requests and tasks for various people around Teyvat, or at least the parts of Teyvat you can access, and improve your skills and stats. You have a talent for dodging, you find, and use it to your advantage while fighting.

And every Monday, when the clock resets, you re-enter Golden House to battle with Childe and claim your just rewards.

Of course you could do it everyday, but a squirming, guilty feeling in your gut stops you, making you feel like you’re hurting him, no matter how many times you try to tell yourself that he’s simply a video game character, a program in an electronic system.

This thought makes you a bit sad, you think.

The fights are getting easier, something you credit to your rising stars of characters, and you stand before the Ley Line Blossom quicker and quicker each time, something you expect to be no different today.

Phases One and Two are just the same as you take advantage of Vaporize and Overload, drowning out Childe’s pre-programmed sounds of pain with your own abilities. The battle pauses, and you’re transported to the same chamber underground, with its fiery walls and glittering arches, as the fight resumes. With the same attacks and characters, it’s becoming a tad dull, and you frown, wondering if you should try to get another character soon.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you slip and fall.

This you feel in the real world, having landed hard on your back and knocked the air out of your lungs. For a few moments you struggle to breathe, and Childe takes the opportunity to appear right over you, his spear flashing purple. You swear internally, bracing yourself as he readies his weapon.

But the strike never comes. You inhale desperately, oxygen finally flowing into your chest, and open your eyes. The graphics of your game are gray and fuzzy around the edges, framing Childe as he slowly puts his spear down and, to your amazement and slight terror, jerkily reaches towards you. Voice clips play overhead, pieced together to make not words, but a static-interspersed whining sound, much like a concerned beast. Your eyes widen, and Childe stops, withdrawing slightly almost as if he’s worried that you’re afraid, and you whisper his name once, as a tentative question.

Then with crackle and a ping, your game crashes and everything goes black.

You gasp and rip off the headset, chest heaving as you struggle to comprehend what just happened. You’re shaking, nervous and fearful, but curiosity runs strong through your veins. Your finger slides towards the On button, and you press it and slip the device back on.

You’re standing outside, the doors of the Golden House closed as if the battle never happened. The guards surrounding it look ordinary, occasionally repeating phrases you’ve heard and ignored countless times. Glancing around and trying to squash the nauseous bubbling feeling in your gut, you push the doors open again.

It’s different this time. Instead of being in the upper room, you fall a short distance into the Third Phase Chamber, your shoes clicking on the tiled floor. Childe floats in the center, his back to you, and you take a tentative step forward. He turns and looks you dead in the eyes, before flinging his spear to the side and rushing towards you on his feet, kneeling to your height. Instinctively, you jump away as he sits on the ground before you, letting out joyful chirps and trills, sounds you didn’t even know he could make. You approach him, sword held loosely in your hand as an extra precaution, and he tilts his head and coos as you cautiously sit with him. Your hands are trembling as you try to understand that this is real, he is real, all of this is happening.

And if it’s not, then it’s some damn good programming.

Questions start to fill your mind, one after another, and you ask him, responses coming as a nod or a headshake.

Is this real?

Yes.

Or programming?

No.

Could you always do this?

No.

Just today?

No.

Over a period of time. Yes.

How…?

The final question hangs in the air, and he shrugs slightly, then points at you. You did this. You woke him up, made him feel pain, sorrow, and happiness, all stemming from you, his love for you. From the minute the Archon Quests let you meet, he was vaguely curious, the most emotion he’s ever felt in his cold, empty programming since before. And when the code broke, he adored you, not like Childe viciously adored battle, but a soft adoration, one with all his digital heart could muster. You smile, and he purrs at what a wonderful smile it is.

Something flickers in the corner of your eye. Then another. And another. You turn and squint, then gasp as your surroundings begin to dissolve into colorful squares, the game taunting you as it glitches and lags. You and Childe leap to your feet, only to watch helplessly as the world crumbles away. You look down at your hands and see them beginning to break apart into pixels. Childe reaches out to hug you, to hold you close, but his hand passes right through you, a sickening reminder of how unreal he is. He wails in anguish as you both try to grasp each other, only to shatter more, the pixels covering your screen like rain on a windowpane.

Your game crashes for a second time, the only sound a desperate whimper that soon fades into an electronic squealing.

It takes a week to fix your device, the tech people saying that it was “overloaded”. Finally the repairs are finished, and you’re back at the Golden House, the doors already ajar. You slip into the room, expecting either a battle or, hopefully, someone to greet you.

But the room is empty. No one, human nor monster, stands in the center. Instead there is one lonely Ley Line Blossom, waiting, the final gift from an impossible love.

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing | drabble i. | m

WARNINGS. jealous jk, jk's gf is hot and he's not the only one who thinks that, jimin and tae as instigators, i swear jimin and jk love each other, fucking in public spaces aka a car in a parking lot, jk luvs his gf, appearance of perpetrator jin!

NOTE. i missed this couple 🥺oc is living her hot girl summer life and jk does nawt know how to deal with it Lol. hope u enjoy loves!!!!

WORDS. 3k+

“I’m okay,” Jungkook murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he repeats his own personal mantra. “I’m good. I’m fine—I’m chill. Chillest person ever. I’m good—”

“He’s not okay,” Taehyung snickers.

Jungkook blocks the negativity out, purposefully and intentionally. Nothing could ruin his day—not on his watch, especially as the sun shines over bodies across the beach while the waves break into beautiful fragments that he’s yearning to dip his feet into.

Personal affirmations came first.

“I’m good, I’m fine, I’m okay,” he chants like a crazy person, definitely earning some form of side-eye from the people next to him but he can’t be bothered. Another person thinking that he was insane wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him—not when—

“You should open your eyes,” Jimin says, “How are you going to fight them if you don’t know thy enemy?”

Immediately, Jungkook’s peace is disturbed by the mouth of Park Jimin, who painfully reminds him of why he’s got into the entire personal mantra and affirmation thing. He used to think it was redundant, unnecessary. How could the universe return your wishes just as you’ve uttered them into the atmosphere? It didn’t seem logical to him.

But right now, that didn’t matter—not when he had bigger things to be worried about.

“Don’t disturb my peace,” Jungkook snaps.

“They did it first,” Jimin retorts, cocking his head towards the flock of people at a certain part of the beach, specifically towards where the water meets the shore.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. His peace is disrupted, his happiness is compromised and it’s all Park Jimin’s fault. He spent a good amount of time getting into his zone, reaffirming himself that he was in fact, fine, good—he was okay! But now, he feels all his resolve dissolve when he realises he can’t even see the main thing that was responsible for his dilemmas.

“You’d think a celebrity was on this beach,” Taehyung snorts.

“Not helping,” Jungkook says dryly.

“So isn’t your crazy person chanting,” Jimin points out, “but yet, here we are—listening to you reciting your own version of a biblical verse.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook grits for the umpteenth time, and no less is his assertions any more convincing than it was a moment ago. The flicker of his irises towards to crowd is enough to prove that fact. “I’m just enjoying my day at the beach with my friends and my girlfriend.”

“See, there are two false statements in that,” Taehyung tilts his head downwards, offering a smug smirk that Jungkook wishes he could shove into the sand beneath him. “You’re definitely not enjoying this because I can see the veins protruding out of your neck at how hard you’re clenching your jaw, and”—the older boy makes the effort to taunt Jungkook further by letting out a low whistle the moment the crowd seems to grow slightly bigger—“you’re partially right about the friend part. Your girlfriend though … where is she?”

I’m good. I’m okay. I’m cool—

“Oblivious, as usual,” Jimin sighs, plopping back onto the beach towel beneath him while shooting Jungkook a pointed stare. “It’d be sad if you only called her your girlfriend for six months when you’ve been in love with her for seven years.”

“Okay that’s it. I’m going there,” Jungkook declares, huffing as he pushes himself off the ground while Jimin makes an effort to grab at his ankle, halting the younger boy from causing any damage and potentially getting them banned from ever returning.

“Not with that temper you aren’t,” Jimin snaps, “Sit your ass down. God. Can’t you take a joke?”

“A joke?” Jungkook splutters, abhorred. “You literally just said she’s going to break up with me!”

“I said that it’d be sad if—”

“Same fucking difference,” he hisses, rubbing a hand across his face before he kicks Jimin’s petty grip off his ankle while levelling him with a menacing glare. Jungkook’s eyes slowly drift to the side where you finally enter his vision, still smiling like the soft and sweet person you were as you help Namjoon with whatever crab hunting mission he had.

See, Jungkook’s mature enough to know that you and Namjoon were good friends, great ones, even. The two of you were smart and clicked well, and if anything, Jungkook was more envious of the fact that the two of you shared such a wholesome and meaningful friendship than anything else.

The fact that Namjoon used to have feelings for you didn’t bother Jungkook anymore, not when he knew where your heart truly laid. He also trusted Namjoon with his entire life and his firstborns (not that he’d ever tell you that, and God—did he hope that day would eventually come when it came to you). But still, Jungkook was mature—he did some growing up, and he was proud of that.

But Jungkook’s human, a flawed, ever-learning and constantly improving human. A human who’s crazy in love with his pretty girlfriend that he’s longed for years—and a human who isn’t blind. A human who can’t ignore the fact that, apparently, he wasn’t the only person that was trying to keep himself in check at how stunning you were. Every day—and especially today, with how your dainty yellow bikini drapes over the curves of your body.

Jungkook nearly cries. Yellow was his favourite colour. You wore it for him.

Not for—

“Maybe you should head over,” Taehyung murmurs, snapping Jungkook out of his love-filled mind as his eyes clear, immediately catching what his friend was referring to.

Some dude. Talking to you. Smiling at you like you carried all the answers to all the world problems as you giggle a tune comparable to birds chirping. Maybe Jungkook was exaggerating but it always sounded like you were singing his favourite song even if you were just explaining economical concepts to him like a soothing e-book.

“God, why couldn’t she have been ugly,” Jungkook groans.

“You wouldn’t have dated her otherwise,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook gawks, affronted as he gives his two friends a scandalised expression as he places his hands over his chest to indicate the offence he took to that statement.

“I’m not superficial,” he huffs, “I fell in love with her because of her—”

“Personality, yada yada,” Jimin mocks him in a lower tune that has Jungkook glaring at him. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell me that her being pretty doesn’t help you bust a nut every once in a while.”

Jungkook flushes.

“Well, yeah, but I’m her boyfriend—”

“Thank you for reminding me that you are in fact, still a boy,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “Men. Mansplaining everything, really.”

Jungkook’s jaw slackens as his eyes briefly land on Taehyung’s figure who doesn’t look too bothered with how the conversation turned out as he shrugs in response.

“How about you do the typical manly thing of being a jealous prick and go over there and stomp over all her fan club members,” Jimin says sarcastically, resting his arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

There’s a brief rustle from where the sand meets the towel, and a relatively long period of silence while the only thing that permeates the air is the sound of waves with laughter coming from a family a distance away.

“He did exactly that, didn’t he.”

“You need to stop giving him ideas,” Taehyung sighs, plopping a grape into his mouth before occupying the space next to his friend. “Should we find another beach to frequent?”

“Really?” you laugh, “That’s so cool! I’m actually planning on landing an apprenticeship there over the summer.”

“Oh?” The man is leaning way too close to you for comfort, but you’re unfazed. Jungkook doesn’t even want to know where the hell Namjoon had gone, leaving you with this broad-shouldered, terrifyingly handsome man. “I could definitely put a good word in for you if you’d like.”

You beam, appreciative rather than brazen. But Jungkook thinks the man doesn’t know that.

“I don’t think I can accept that, Seokjin.”

And of course, you knew his name.

“Why not?” Seokjin smirks, and Jungkook knows that it’s definitely done him justice in other situations. “For a beautiful—”

“____,” he interjects, smoothly (or not quite) sliding next to you as his arms wrap around your waist before his glare rests on the man before him, who looks both shocked and unbothered at his appearance. “Who’s this?”

You jump slightly at Jungkook’s arrival but relax when you realise that it was just him and not some other beach weirdo.

“Jungkook, this is Seokjin! He actually attended our university—”

“Really,” he says dryly, “That’s nice.”

“Is this your …?” Seokjin looks Jungkook up and down before settling with a rather unimpressed look. “Do seniors usually bring their shadows out for playdates?”

Your eyes widen at his patronising tone, and before can even think to correct him with a tilted frown, Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist, a precursor to his jaw that clenches while he engages in his own version of a staredown with the man before you.

“Boyfriend.”

Seokjin raises a brow.

“Me,” Jungkook blinks, unnerved and quite frankly, tired. He’s crossed this bridge enough times, and it’s always the same. Some older dude who thought that you were doing charity work by having Jungkook tag along with like some puny little brother. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Jungkook—” you start, softly reaching to grip his arm.

“Interesting,” Seokjin says offhandedly and Jungkook knows it’s anything but. “Well, my offer still stands.”

He’s directing it to you as you peer up at him with your notoriously innocent eyes. Jungkook hates that this douche is still unaffected by his blatant declaration of the fact that you were—taken.

“I—that’s fine, Seokjin,” you say softly, lips curling into a thankful smile before he nods.

The look he sends Jungkook is nothing short of unimpressed, and Jungkook’s thinking of clamming the dude into the sand and quite literally, bury the hatchet with him. Sure, he was handsome and broad, and undoubtedly ripped—but Jungkook trained to benchpress twice his weight so he could beat up assholes who tried to hit on his girlfriend.

Right before he leaves, Jungkook calls for his name—intentionally calling him Seokmin—noting the way his face drops into a scowl.

“You’re not her type.”

He scoffs.

“And you are?” he throws back, brows raised as a challenge.

“That’s why I get to hold her and you’re walking away.”

With that, Seokjin doesn’t bother responding to Jungkook, especially in the way that you gawk at your boyfriend’s blatant warning to the older man.

He titters off, and it’s effectively just you and Jungkook standing by the shore while you briefly see the way Namjoon stutters before deciding to return to where Jimin and Taehyung lays.

Jungkook’s still seething in his rage, clenching and unclenching his fists even though he got the last word. It wasn’t that he thought you’d elope with Seokjin and leave him—he trusted you wholeheartedly and vice versa. He knew you loved him and so did he.

It had more to do with the fact that Seokjin saw you, and eventually, him—and thought that Jungkook wasn’t fit to be your boyfriend. That he saw a gorgeous girl on the beach and expected her to be single, and if not—to be with a boyfriend that had his shit together and not … not Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” you say quietly, tugging at his elbow while you peer up at him with wide and apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It’s no good, the fact that you’re apologising. As if you were responsible for his insecurities when you’ve done nothing but shower him with love and support ever since the two of you started officially dating.

“Don’t apologise,” he says stiffly, though his heart isn’t angry—he can’t help the way his words get out. “It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“If you apologise then you’re gonna piss me off, baby,” he says lightly, peering you down with a small smirk as your eyes widen.

“I—okay,” you say weakly, and before he knows it, you’re intertwining your fingers with his, eyes suddenly twinkling in a way he’s grown all too familiar with.

“You have the keys?” he murmurs softly.

You nod, blind and in love as you sigh.

“Take care of me?” you ask sweetly, and Jungkook forgets all about Seokjin when he has you right in front of him.

“O-Oh, fuck—Jungkook—ngh—”

Maybe Jungkook really was a crazy person, but he’d argue that you were equally as crazy to oblige to indulge in his lewd fantasies. He was crazy, for you and your cunt that was like nirvana, and it’s proven further when he fucks into you at a brutal pace, uncaring whether or not the car shakes with the exertion of the activities that were taking place in it.

It could be the fact that he had a decade worth of fantasies to play out, but he knows that he plays a huge part in opening your sexual nature and he couldn’t be happier about it, especially when you unabashedly throw your head onto your chest, whimpering with the dirty squelches of his thrusts that echo in the vehicle.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growls, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to force your glassy eyes to look at him.

The look on your face is enough to get Jungkook even more riled up, your flushed cheeks and swollen lips while you nod your head manically, crazy—and his.

“Y-Yours,” you whimper, and just about then, Jungkook brings your hips down with his free hand and meets you with a sharp thrust that has your mouth dropping open and your face scrunched up in pleasure. “F-Fuck, J-Jungkook.”

“No one gets to fuck you like this,” he hisses, pressing a hot kiss to your neck as you whine, hips involuntarily swivelling to meet his fast pace. The car is shaking and it’s all too risky, Jungkook knows that—but his rationale is clouded with the antagonising face of Seokjin. “No one gets to see you like this. Only I do.”

“Y-Yes!” you sob, clutching onto him as he feels your pussy tighten viciously around him, the walls of your inner linings spasming as Jungkook hisses at the feeling. “Only you K-Kook. Only ever want you.”

Jungkook believes you, especially when you desperately hold onto him as he feels himself slowly reach the edge. He knows you are too, especially when your whines get higher in pitch, and your tugs against his shoulders get tighter. He knows because he’s learnt about your body as your boyfriend—and he’s the only person that will ever get to have you like this.

The thought, paired along with the risk of your situation only fuels his determination to get you off, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you to root you into place as he shoves his cock deeper into you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he croons as you mewl in pleasure, breathless whines turning more desperate as your eyes flutter shut. “You wanna show me how much you want me?”

You nod manically, your pussy fluttering around his length as he grunts in exertion.

“G-Gonna—pleasedon’tstop—fuck, I-I’m cumming—!” you cry, tugging your face into the crook of his neck as Jungkook bites his lips in focus, all ready to accept your hot pleasure and his own.

“Come for me,” he encourages, lips hovering over your earlobe as you obey his orders, head thrown back as he watches your mouth drop wider and your eyes roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his length.

Jungkook thinks you’re beautiful. On days where you don’t feel like you do, but he may be biased to say that he thinks you look absolutely stunning for him like this. When he knows that he’s the one responsible for your reddened cheeks, the way you so desperately cling onto him whenever you’d orgasm (the only person that would ever know this fact about you), and the way that you’re left breathless, satiated and with that hazed expression after his resolute efforts.

Jungkook cums shortly after, with those exact thoughts plaguing his mind. He was so whipped. He really only had to think of you and he would get hard, and having you right above him, soft and warm with your arms draped loosely over his form made his heart all mushy and soft despite the way his cock stands erect.

You mewl in oversensitivity although you don’t complain. You never do, whenever Jungkook cums after you. Even now, when Jungkook comes down from his high with pants of his own, his own mind-clearing while his cock softens in you—you remain patient. Patient like the ever-loving, wonderful girlfriend that you were—one that Jungkook wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Wow,” you giggle, forehead resting against his as you return from your own post-orgasmic bliss. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me in a parking lot.”

Jungkook flushes, reality sinking in when he realised that the two of you weren’t hidden from plain sight. While the idea of being caught was definitely arousing, Jungkook knew he wasn’t too keen on having anyone see you delirious, even if it was all for him. He was lucky enough that your bikini top remained on the entire time, but both your sweaty bodies were enough of a dead giveaway.

“I just,” Jungkook tries to explain, words slurring in embarrassment as you raise a brow at him. “You look really pretty today.”

You stare at his forlorn expression as if admitting that pained him. Jungkook feels slightly embarrassed at how he reacted, and if you notice this, you don’t point it out—yet.

“Wore this for you,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to the mole under his lip. Jungkook’s heart soars at your admission even if he knew that. “You know it’s only for you, right?”

Your question is purposeful and Jungkook shamefully looks to his lap, and even then—you’re still connected. He slowly pulls out, wincing when his cum threatens to pool out of your pussy, but before he can pretend to clean you up, you’re putting your bikini bottoms back in place and clamping your hands over his cheeks so that he’d look at you.

“Jungkook,” you say sternly.

He sighs.

“Yes,” he groans, feeling a lot like a child who’s being berated. “I just—God. He was such a prick.”

“I know,” you say gently, fingers combing through his hair while he melts into your touch. “There are a lot of pricks out there, but you know that I only love you, right?”

Your confession is the same as the one you’ve made six months ago, and just last night before the two of you fell asleep—but it’s a confession that Jungkook never grows tired of.

“I know,” he mumbles as you giggle at him. “It’s just that … he really thought he had a chance with you, and when he saw me it was like—”

You frown, finger pressed against his lips to stop his rambling as he peers up at you with doe-eyes.

“None of that,” you chide lightly, “I don’t care what people think. The only person I care about is you, and no one will change that, okay?”

Jungkook feels himself relax into your touch, especially when you lean forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss that isn’t set to lead anywhere. He remembers. He remembers the times where you were unsure and all too worried of the words of others—and here you were, with him and with your gentle and loving soul, the embodiment of comfort as you tell him the words he’s always known but needs to be reminded of.

“I love you,” he says quietly as you grin widely at him, “Sorry for—you know.”

You roll your eyes, lifting your leg to get off his lap as you wince at the cum that threatens to escape your lips.

“I mean, it was kind of hot,” you shrug with a small smirk.

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Jungkook snorts, looking over at you when you shoot him a devious grin.

“You love it,” you throw back cheekily, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you with a sigh.

He does. And he knows that he’s the only one that you’ll love back.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bad boy good thing drabbles #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x oc #bts fanfiction #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway.

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity.

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him.

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them.

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall.

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure.

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people.

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway.

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him.

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks.

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago.

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling.

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later.

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene.

“I very much am not,” you huff.

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly.

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?”

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling.

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue.

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand.

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.”

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing.

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context.

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime.

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings.

No one’s around, which is good.

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck.

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body.

Nothing’s changed.

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them.

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly.

He can’t stop staring at them.

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.”

Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.”

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention.

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering.

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.”

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you.

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat.

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear.

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip.

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time.

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner.

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused.

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York.

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance.

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.”

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same.

The train’s slowing down.

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer.

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.”

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted.

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open.

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign.

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention.

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home.

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door.

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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angelz-dust · 3 years

Text

heatwave (jason todd x gender neutral!reader)

summary: extreme heat leads to a little accident with your popsicle and jason finds a way to rectify the problem.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni) - smut, unprotected sex (no condom, no pulling out - pls wrap it up y’all), shower sex, mild food play (popsicle), mild choking.

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

the sun shone through the window of your bedroom, the rays of light dancing against your sweaty skin as the wind from your fan made the blinds shake. you laid out on your bed, which had been stripped of its comforter, in only your underwear. you were about ready to peel those off of yourself, too. you weakly grabbed at your phone, checking the weather. 77 degrees.

77 degrees, your ass. it felt like 90.

as much as you enjoyed reaping the consequences of a depleting ozone layer, you felt like it was time to do something to control the temperature in your apartment. you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to handle breathing in air that felt thick enough to chew. slowly, you sat up, having to peel your sheet off of your sweaty back. you were going to have to do the laundry at some point because going back to sleep in drenched sheets was just as disgusting as it sounded. that was a problem for 3pm you, though. 11am you needed water. desperately.

waddling your way to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator door and you let out a loud moan of satisfaction. the bright white lights invited you inside its cold confines and you could've swore you saw a dead relative or two beckoning you in. you didn't want to leave the door open for too long, so you quickly grabbed the last water bottle and shut it. you wasted no time swallowing down the cold liquid, ignoring how it made your teeth hurt and froze your throat. you didn't even care that some of it had spilled down the front of your body, down your chest and to the band of your underwear. you welcomed the cold droplets onto your burning hot skin.

“fuuuuuuck,” you breathed out, your body going limp as it pressed itself against the metal refrigerator door. you could feel your perspiration creating a suction between it and your skin. it was fine, though. you had no intention of moving anyway.

had it not been for your brain taking a few minutes to power itself off, you would've heard the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the front door and you would've turned to see jason coming in with the desserts you requested.

“what the hell are you doing?” you heard him say and you slightly turned towards him, a dazed look on your face. he was already stripping out of his clothes before he even asked.

“dying,” you responded, opening the freezer for him as he threw in some ice cream and multiple boxes of popsicles.

jason put his hand on your clammy shoulder, slowly ripping you off of the fridge. he turned you towards him, holding some contraption in his hand, which appeared to be a cross between a spray bottle and a fan. without saying anything, he turned it on and began spraying you down like a misbehaving cat, only you didn't flinch. no, you relished in the feeling of the mist on your face.

“here. i got one for myself, too,” he said, handing you the fan. you smiled happily as you started spraying and fanning yourself all over.

“i hope whoever invented this is getting bomb ass head right now,” you breathed out, starting to feel some relief.

“what about the guy who bought it for you? what does he get?” jason asked, starting his fan up and spraying his chest, it now glistening with both sweat and tap water.

“absolutely nothing until the temperature drops,” you smiled at him. “what flavors did you get?”

jason’s lips puckered slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “strawberry, pineapple, and this caribbean mix with a bunch of flavors in it. you might wanna wait on eating them, though. they’ll probably melt fast.”

“it's a risk i'm willing to take,” you said, going and grabbing a popsicle for yourself. you unwrapped it and hummed happily at the flavor against your tongue. the brand jason bought was a little more expensive but it was definitely worth it. the real fruit juices and chunks were much more satisfying to taste than the artificial flavoring of the other brands.

“is it good?” jason asked, a small smile on his lips. despite being uncomfortably hot, seeing you happy made it bearable. the fact that he was able to provide you with the things you needed, even if it was something as simple as your favorite popsicle, made him feel good.

“mhm,” you nodded, some of the juices starting to trickle down your chin and onto your chest. you looked down and frowned a little. you started spraying your chest, trying to get the stickiness to go away.

jason watched you desperately try to lick up the juices that were now sliding down the stick and getting on your hands. it just wouldn't stop and it was making a huge mess, just as he had warned you it would.

“sweetheart, there's more popsicle on your chest than there is in your mouth,” he commented condescendingly and you glared at him.

“maybe that's how i like eating it, jason,” you said, his name coming out of your mouth like venom.

“you know what? i like eating it that way, too,” he nodded in agreement, stepping towards you and dipping his head down to lick at your collarbone and move down the valley of your chest.

your breath hitched at the unexpected contact and the added body heat to your personal bubble. jason had come back up, giving you a soft kiss and licking the remnants of your most recent bite off of your lips. as badly as you wanted to melt into the kiss, you pulled away. you grabbed your fan and started spraying him in the face.

“down, boy,” you scolded him playfully, little giggles coming from him as he flinched his punishment. “i'm trying to eat.”

“so am i,” he smirked, taking the popsicle from you and taking a bite out of it. he looked around the room, whistling as he not so subtly let the popsicle fall against your chest and dragging it down some, watching as it dripped down your abdomen. you gasped out as the contrasting temperatures, your back hitting the fridge.

“oh wow. i'm so sorry,” his fake apology rang against your ears. he took the dessert off of your skin, handing it back to you. “i'll get that for you.”

his lips and tongue fell upon your skin again, dragging over the stains. he found himself at your nipples, despite not getting anything on them. he swirled his tongue around the quickly hardening buds, managing to get a pleasant sound from you. he got on his knees, collecting the sweetness that was threatening to make it way to your underwear. he eagerly lapped it all up before it got to that point, firmly holding your hips against the door to prevent you from moving away.

“jason, it's too hot,” you sighed as he planted kisses up your naval, looking up at you with playful eyes.

“i know. this is really sexy, isn't it?” he spoke against your body, which got himself sprayed again by you. this time, he saw it as encouragement instead of a punishment. how thoughtful of you to help keep him cool while he focused on making you feel good.

you kept spraying him until he eventually let up, laughing again as he got off of his knees. “fine, fine. if you won't indulge me in my sexy popsicle fantasy, can we at least go take a shower?”

“only to get the juice off. no other reason,” you said coyly and he smirked at you, giving you a firm nod.

“of course. what other reason would there be?” he asked as the two of you headed to the bathroom, touching at each other and giggling your entire way there, taking what little clothes you both had off of each other. by the time the water started running, the little act had dropped and you were all over each other. it was freezing, which put your bodies into a slight shock as you panted heavily in between feverish kisses.

jason’s favorite thing to do was hoist you up, with your legs wrapped around his waist. he liked showing you how strong he was and feeling your body flush against his own. he made sure to position you high enough against the tile wall so you wouldn't have water violently hitting your face, but close enough to where you could still feel it everywhere else. he never allowed himself to be blinded by lust at the expense of your comfort.

his hips rolled into yours and his face found its way back to your chest, peppering it with kisses. you carded your fingers through his wet hair, tugging at it just how he liked. even though you were doing a very physically taxing activity, this was the coolest you had felt all day. you wasted no time giving jason’s plump lips the kisses they had deserved earlier, your boyfriend more than happy to reciprocate. as much as you didn't want to part from him again, he pulled away and began suckling at your neck. normally you would object to being marked in such a visible location but you gave him a pass this one time. after all, he was the guy who bought you the spray fan.

your feet touched the ground again and he turned you around, pressing you against the wall and grinding softly into your backside. it didn't take him long to pull your leg up and slowly insert himself inside of you. you started seeing stars and that's when your legs became like jelly, causing you to lose your balance. jason quickly reacted, your hearts pounding as you tried to stay vertical.

“are you alright?” he asked, his nose rubbing the shell of your ear.

“yeah, i just got dizzy,” you explained, grabbing his hand with an embarrassed smile. “i'm okay.”

“so clumsy,” he grinned, kissing your temple as his slow thrusting began. his hand trailed down your side and landed on your ass, using it as leverage.

you moaned his name as he started going deeper and slower. he was teasing you now, which was to be expected. even on the hottest of days, in one of the least comfortable locations, he didn't pass up the opportunity. jason treating this like any other love making session and not just a quickie turned you on even more. he never let you question his dedication to making you unravel beneath him.

“jason, please. stop teasing me,” you begged him, knowing that was the only way he would stop. closed mouths don't get fed, as he would say.

“only because you asked so nicely,” he responded smugly, picking up the pace now. the sounds of slapping skin and breathy moans were amplified by the acoustics of the room. you began feeling a slight ache; a result of jason’s girth and length inside of you. a normal person would’ve asked for a break, but not you. it fueled you to continued, fucking back against him and squeezing around the very thing that was causing you mild pain.

“it feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked you and you didn't respond. you hated how he always knew exactly what you were doing. “tell me it does, sweetheart. i wanna hear you say it.”

you ignored him again, moving against him a little faster now. his hands quickly went to your hips, holding you still. “answer me,” he whispered in your ear and you whimpered in defeat.

“it feels good,” you mumbled, trying to move again, but to no avail.

“sorry, i didn’t catch that.”

“it feels good, jason.”

“i'm glad. i want you to feel good,” he smiled, letting you go. you continued to try and reach your high, doing most of the work now while jason watched. his hands caressed your body, encouraging you to continue.

“does it feel good for you?” you asked him and he nodded.

“it always does, sweetheart. i feel amazing whenever i’m with you,” he told you, starting to meet you half way with his thrusts. “doesn't matter if i'm inside you or not.”

you felt your face heat up at his words. you hated how he had that effect on you. you felt yourself slip against the wet tile again and he caught you, pulling you back against him.

“would you stop doing that?” the two of you laughed together, taking a quick breather. “i need you to not die in the middle of me fucking you, okay?”

“okay, i'm sorry,” you giggled as jason helped you get back into position. “i'm sorry.”

“it's alright, don't worry,” he reassured you, slipping his hand up your front and around your throat. “is this okay?”

you nodded, feeling more secure in this modified position. despite your little interruption, you still felt as needy as ever. his grip on you was so gentle that you could almost be convinced you’d slip again, but jason knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what he needed to do to keep you safe and not hurt you in the process.

“let’s finish up,” jason’s tone was comforting and you hummed in agreement, picking up right where the two of you left off. it didn't take long, either. you could feel the pressure building up inside of you, waiting to wash over you. once you felt his tip pressing against that sweet spot he was so good at exploiting, you knew there was no going back now.

you both started getting sloppy, jason’s thrusts being less methodical and your movements no longer matching with his. jason’s broken gasps and moans send you over the edge, sending you spiraling in euphoria. his grip on your throat tightened very slightly as he filled you up, his face resting in the crook of your neck. you let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, feeling his cheek pressing against you, silently urging you to turn around. you complied, your noses grazing each other before your lips met again with little kisses.

“we can take a real shower now,” he smiled against your lips, kissing you again. “no more sexy fantasies. i promise.”

“no more sexy fantasies during a heatwave,” you corrected him, grabbing your wash cloth and wiping away some of the sweat forming at his hairline. “any other time, they will be greatly accepted and expected.”

“good to know.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #dc x reader

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honey-im-hotdog · 3 years

Text

You Miss Me?

Slade Wilson x reader

Author’s Note: THIS IS THE THIRD DAMN TIME I AM POSTING THIS THING BECAUSE THIS HELL SITE FUCKING SUCKS AND WOULDN’T SHOW THIS IN THE TAGS THANKS ASSTRASH!! Anyways, hope you enjoy!

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: I may be into dilfs, what about it? Fluffy! Also some mildly suggestive shit but it’s not much so this is relatively sfw (but minors please don’t interact still), there is a height thing but I tried reeaally hard to make it so you can be any height and you’ll still fit in (just keep in mind that Slade is supposed to be and seem huge), swearing, and my ungodly obsession with italics…

Summary: He comes home from an assignment and it almost leads to your death. :)

———————————

Gif isn’t mine, I got it from Deviantart but I can’t link it, I’m sorry :(

A groan of frustration leaves your parted lips, your neck aching from being arched for so long.

Slade Wilson—Deathstroke, the Terminator, world’s deadliest assassin—has the ability to analyse any and every situation, and be prepared at an ungodly speed. But what’s the damn point if he doesn’t think to get a fucking ladder that’s tall enough to reach the stupid light fixtures!

The light has been flickering for the past week, and as it’s one in a set of three, you couldn’t really leave it off. So here you are, on your tippy-toes, trying to screw the bulb into place. It really shouldn’t have taken you this long to change one lightbulb!

You huff out a breath and hype yourself into pushing up just a little further and getting through this last leg. You let out some of that frustration by panting out in a strained voice, “Jesus. Fucking. Christ. On a. Flamingo. I swear. I’m going to. Kick. His balls. In!”

Ahh, yes! Finally! You drop down from your tippy-toes so your feet are flat on the step, body slightly bent over as you release the breath you’ve been holding in.

“I would make a ‘how many Y/Ns does it take to change a lightbulb?’ joke, but…”

The yelp that bundles out of your throat is undignified, and so is the way you hang on to the top of the ladder like an octopus.

A deep chuckle rings out from behind you.

“What the hell, eye patch?! Are you blind?” you whip your head around and glare down at the silver haired jerk, who snorts at you in return. “I could have fallen off and cracked my neck and died! You want that? You want me to be added to your list of kills?” You finally start lowering yourself from the top.

Slade pushes himself off the wall he’s been leaning against and moves towards you. “I would’ve caught you. Superhuman speed and all that, remember?” he replies smoothly in that deep, deep voice, throwing in an easy-going shrug.

You stop a couple steps from the ground and turn around with your arms crossed, the height making you taller than him. You hope it gives your glare any sense of menace, though that’s probably wishing for too much when it comes to this absolute machine of a man. You also need to give your poor neck a break. “Still, that won’t make you a knight in shining armor, Colonel Sanders. You still put my life in danger,” the smile in your voice is barely repressed, you’re too happy to see him after his two-week assignment. Besides, you love calling him by different names.

Slade hums whilst moving his hands to your hips, “I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you, huh? I can think of a few things that’ll win you over.” The wink he ends with finally breaks your smile free.

You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, “I guess you’ll just have to, Waldorf.” He rolls his eyes at the name and you pull him in for a kiss. It’s sweet and slow, both of you savoring the feeling of being so close to the other after so long.

You’re the first to pull back, voice breathy and the grin beaming across your face, “hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” his voice uncharacteristically soft and face centimeters away. “You miss me?”

“Probably more than I should have,” you snicker. You could have given him a truly sarcastic reply, but you like how soft he’s being, it fills your chest with a warmth that sends your stomach flipping pleasantly.

He bumps his nose against yours with a smile peeking from the corners of his mouth. “Mmm,” he moves his face down and buries it in your neck, “I missed you, too.”

As if it was possible, your smile grows wider, the warmth spreads to your whole body, and now your stomach is straight up kickflipping. You run your fingers through his hair and kiss him right behind his ear, “why don’t you go grab a shower and I’ll get started on an early dinner, hm?”

“Or,” he plants a sweet kiss on your collarbone and brings his head up, a mischievous grin on his handsome face, “you could join me in the shower, and we’ll order take out later tonight.” Though, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply before he’s whisking you into his arms and moving towards the bathroom.

You bellow out a quick laugh before he captures your lips for a deep kiss.

When you get to the bathroom, he sets you onto the counter gently. With your hands now cupping his jaw and voice filled with adoration, you quietly say, “I love you, Slade.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” his smile relaxed and open.

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elysianslove · 3 years

Text

secret relationship; tsukishima kei, tanaka ryūnosuke, yamamoto taketora

requested by anon(s); their respective teams finding out about their relationships

pairings; tsukishima kei x reader, tanaka ryūnosuke x fem!reader, yamamoto taketora x fem karasuno manager!reader

genre; fluff

warnings; none! (maybe a few curse words)

note; i’m so sorry tsukki’s so much longer than the other two oh my

tsukishima kei

━━ in your defense, neither of you had heard the blaring alarm, and supposedly, no one else in his home had either. after having unintentionally lost track of time with your boyfriend the night prior that it had gotten a little too late for you to head home safely, you’d agreed to kei’s suggestion to spend the night, and fell asleep in his arms. that wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. you couldn’t count on ten fingers the nights you’d spent at his home, waking up with your limbs tangled with his, despite the fact that he insisted cuddling was his least favorite thing to do. missing the alarm is what’s unusual. kei’s not the heaviest of sleepers, evident in the way he nearly tramples you every night, suffocating you to him and restricting your movements. the fact that he hadn’t heard it, and had left to ring annoyingly loud until it gave up was confusing enough.

this wouldn’t pose as much of an issue if it weren’t for your situation. on the contrary, really; you loved nothing more than waking up at the hour you desire, kei still sound asleep by you. he always looked a lot calmer, a lot less tense, his mind a little quieter. his arms were caging you in, giving you enough freedom to tilt your head back and admire him, as his chest rose and fell gently, as his eyes fluttered lightly with the remnants of a dream. in the quiet of his room, you wondered what those golden irises could see.

but of course, a sleepy, fuzzy, lovesick brain wasn’t a luxury for long, and the blurriness began to slip away, just as reality began catching up. your mind began to process the time that the clock that hung opposite you read (too late in the afternoon), then the day of the week (sunday, practice day), then, the cherry on top of the cake — the sound of heavy footsteps, too many footsteps, loud, familiar voices. and finally, the fact that you weren’t supposed to be where you were: in kei’s bed.

you’d encountered his — friends on countless occasions, just never as his significant other. at first, it had left you slightly insecure, wondering if kei was somehow ashamed of you, embarrassed to be tied to you. eventually, however, you’d figured that it hadn’t been shame or embarrassment. he’s just a private person, and if anything, it’s possessiveness: the desire to keep you and all that you are to himself. not that he’d ever have to share once you were exclusive to his teammates, but it’s more that he also wants the idea and thought of you secret. he wants to luxury of calling you his to be private, just something he can enjoy. and maybe you liked the thrill of it too, seeing as you’d agreed, for the time being. you liked the rushed kisses in fear of getting caught, and the secret glances he’d offer you during school hours, and the way he held your hand beneath the table for no one but you to know about. you liked it, and you respected his wishes.

when the footsteps drew closer, you realized just how screwed you are, and it would mean a lot worse for you to be caught slipping away through the window than to be caught in bed, so you lean up, hugging yourself tighter to him, and bring your lips by kei’s ear. shaking him slightly, you whisper, “baby, wake up. the boys are here.”

kei rustles around, blinking slightly, before huffing and wrapping his arms tighter around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling incoherently.

you stifle a laugh at his clingy reaction, wishing that this was somehow being recorded. with laughter behind your tone, you repeat your words, shaking him harsher. “kei,” you drawl, whining. “kei, we’re gonna get caught.”

he only mumbles again, breath hot on your neck.

“tsukki! tsukki!”

shit, nishinoya and tanaka were also here?

“kei, baby, you are going to be mortified when you wake up,” you warn, but nonetheless, you continue to hold him to you, bringing a hand up to his hair and sighing. “don’t kick me for trying to warn you.”

the door bursts open, followed by tanaka’s sing-song voice calling out for your boyfriend. he leads the way into the bedroom, head high and eyes closed, as him and three of kei’s teammates march in. he’s oblivious to your head peeking out beneath the crook of kei’s neck, until his eyes open, his hands faltering on his hips as he finally registers your face.

you grin up at him, fingers waving at him in greeting. “hey,” you call out cheekily.

tanaka freezes, head cocking to the side as he’s pushed away while the other three file in. as soon as nishinoya notices you, he clamps his hand over his mouth, his mouth wide with laughter and eyes lost in shock. yamaguchi’s face is tinted red, glance frozen at you, while sugawara, ever the sadist, laughs freely and loudly.

“so this is why he’s late?” tanaka yells in a hushed tone.

sugawara, still laughing, grabs his phone from his jacket’s pocket, switching to the camera app quickly and lifting it up to snap a photo. you throw up a peace sign.

“tsukki, you ass!” nishinoya shouts, leaping quickly onto the bed, forcing you and kei to shift suddenly. “get up, get up, get the fuck up!”

the boy in your arms groans, his eyes still shut tightly as he finally loosens his hold on you, rolling onto his back. a hand is lifted up to his face as he rubs away the sleep in his eyes, while nishinoya positions himself to stand directly above him, feet on either side of his hips as he leans down, peering straight at his face.

kei’s eyes finally open, hand falling to his side in search of yours as it always does, before he looks up, and spots nishinoya sporting the cheekiest of expressions. he sighs in preparation of the teasing to come, and exhales sharply.

“shit.”

sugawara is yet to stop laughing.

tanaka ryūnosuke

━━ “ryu, you’re late to practice.”

the boy in question shushes you quietly, hugging you tighter to him as he whispers out, “five more minutes,” lips brushing against the nape of your neck, down to your shoulder blades. your back is pressed to his bare chest, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you rest a hand on that arm, stroking it gently as you try to wake him up.

with how the boys had been progressing with volleyball, practice hours had increased, and therefore quality time with ryu had decreased. there was a little voice in the back of your head egging him on, urging you to cuddle back into him and let him nuzzle into you more, the part of you that missed him, missed all of him. there was a more logical side of you that knew better, that acknowledged all the work and effort he’d put to get where he is today, and that didn’t want him to miss out any opportunity to grow, or to put all that effort to waste. so you sigh, gripping at his forearm tightly as you try to get away.

“come on, babe,” you whine, attempting desperately to try and get away from him.

“woah, ryu, you got a girl with you or something?”

you freeze. ryu freezes. the world stops.

that had definitely been nishinoya’s voice, there was no doubt about that. and it isn’t like the both of you had kept your relationship a secret from your mutual friends deliberately. it had just never came up in conversation. maybe they were just blind, honestly. there had been no hiding it: you held hands, you hugged him tight after every win, he walked you home after evening practice after school, you hung out during school all the time. so really, it isn’t your fault that no one put two and two together.

you’d just hoped it wouldn’t be in such a comprising situation. you don’t even have pants on.

“holy shit, you do— what the fuck!” your boyfriend’s teammates scream is piercing, and eardrum shattering. you wince at the sound, fingers tightening around ryu’s arm. once nishinoya processes what he’s seen, and who he’s seen, he storms outside of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind him, allowing you to listen in on his yells.

somehow, ryu’s still sleeping.

“you guys are not going to believe what i just saw,” you hear nishinoya calling out and — holy shit, was the whole team here? was he really that late to practice?

you manage to break free of ryu’s unrelenting grasp just as the footsteps group by your boyfriend’s bedroom door. they all walk in as you try and fix your bed hair, smiling weakly as one by one, they fill up the room. raising a hand, you sheepishly smile and wave, calling out a low, “morning everyone.”

looking to your left, you find ryu still sleeping. with the way hinata’s bouncing over to where the two of you lay, you doubt it’ll be for long. secret was meant to be outed at some point, wasn’t it?

yamamoto taketora

━━ as you and your team finally arrive at your destination, nekoma high, the bus comes to a stop, parking off to the side. immediately, the boys are jumping from their seats, eager to stretch their limbs and greet their long distance friends. you, kiyoko and yachi take your time in comparison to them, gathering all your things, stretching yourselves out. yachi and kiyoko are first to leave between the three of you, working on keeping your teammates in check and making sure none drift off, while you stay behind, checking in on the bus to make sure nobody left anything behind (which you’re glad you always do, because both hinata and kageyama had forgotten their phones). stepping off the bus, you raise your arms up in a stretch, bones cracking satisfyingly. you squint up at the sun as you sigh, hand coming up to shield yourself from it.

“shōyō, kags!” you call out, walking up to the group of boys huddled around each other, both nekoma and karasuno. “forget anything?” you place their phones in either hand, giving them playfully disapproving looks as they shamefully take it from you, red dusting their cheeks and a low sorry spilling from their lips. your expression twists into a cheerful one, and you wave them off.

as the herd of people begins to move, you plan on following, until you hear your name yelled out loudly, in a very distinct, familiar voice. excitement overtaking you, you turn the other way, dropping your bag to the ground and jumping into the awaiting of your arms of your long distance boyfriend.

“tora baby, i missed you!” you squeal, arms wrapping tight around his neck and legs around his waist, ankles hooked as he rocks you from side to side. he hugs you with just as much earnest, burying his face in your neck gratefully.

he hums by your ear, pressing a wet kiss to your neck as he says, “missed you more. more than you could ever imagine.”

you chuckle lightly to yourself, lifting your head up and leaning back to glance at him. “sap,” you tease, tilting your head closer.

“hey, you were the one that jumped into my arms,” he argues.

you quirk an eyebrow. “you were the one that yelled out my name and ran at me,” you retort. “like we’re in some sort of rom-com.” you’re rolling your eyes, but your heart’s beating unsteadily at the way he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. unwilling to continue your banter, having missed him, and missed kissing him too much to do so, you lift a hand to the nape of his neck and push his lips closer to yours, finally kissing him properly.

you’re not able to enjoy it for long, feeling a hand grab at the collar of your jacket on the back of your neck. it pulls at you until you break from the kiss, until you’re forced out of your boyfriend’s arms, and stumbling onto the ground back on your feet.

“have some decorum, manager,” daichi teases, and you roll your eyes, reaching out again for taketora.

he takes you into his arms easily, letting you rest your head on his chest, and wrapping your arms around his waist. “he’s just jealous that we’re in love,” he jokes, and you huff out a laugh, allowing him to steer you away from the small crowd, and towards the gym, leaving your boys and his teammates behind.

“am i the only one that’s like, shocked?” ennoshita breaks the silence.

“really? i’m more heartbroken,” nishinoya joins in, earning a smack from daichi.

tanaka breathes in steadily. “kiyoko-san, please don’t be next,” he pleads.

“tanaka-san, please stop being dramatic.”

#haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tanaka x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #yamamoto x reader #yamamoto taketora x reader

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taesspark · 3 years

Text

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc.

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year.

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day.

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook.

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did.

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep.

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard.

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-”

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.”

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.”

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it.

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble.

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude.

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close.

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them.

“Oops.”

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh.

Fucking Jeon Jungkook.

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.”

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.”

You’re seething.

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all.

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out.

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies.

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.”

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek.

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Do you have something to say?” You snap.

He opens his mouth. Then closes it.

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing.

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.”

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.”

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hit a nerve?”

“No.”

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is.

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up.

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.”

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting.

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.”

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?”

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve?” You mock.

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow.

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same.

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says.

Jungkook groans.

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall.

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.”

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?”

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself.

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.”

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror.

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it.

“But-”

“Professor!”

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.”

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder.

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead.

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake.

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed.

“Y/N?”

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face.

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?”

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate.

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.”

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away.

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.”

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance.

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole."

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake.

#bts fanfiction #bts au #bts drabble #bts writing #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #Jungkook Fanfiction #jungkook #jungkook x reader #spellbound #bts hogwarts au #bts fic

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dekuskacchan · 3 years

Text

i will follow you into the dark

Rating: T

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Fluff

Summary: Izuku has finally returned to UA, and Katsuki will never let him go again.

Or: Izuku and Katsuki finally discuss their feelings.

A/N: Hi again, friends! Since chapter 322 is out now and dominating all of our lives, I felt inspired to write. This is intended to be a sequel to my fic "Tell Me I'm Dreaming," and takes place immediately after the events of chapter 322. So, spoilers are ahead for that chapter! I hope you like it <3

I'd also like to note: Izuku ate and took a bath when he got back, I just couldn't figure out how to work that in. Fear not, he is a clean and fed boy :')

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33153718

Katsuki watches the gentle rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he sleeps, undoubtedly for the first time in days. He’d fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow on the small bed in Recovery Girl’s office, and hasn’t budged since.

In the 12 hours Izuku has been back at UA, Katsuki has left his side once, only with substantial convincing from Glasses and Shitty Hair.

“Dude, he’ll probably be out cold for a few more hours. At least go scarf down some food and take a nap,” Shitty Hair said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki retorted, “I ate this morning. And I have slept.”

Kirishima let out an exasperated sigh that irritated Katsuki to no end.

“Did you come here just to piss me off?” he snapped.

“We are concerned for your well being, just as we are Midoriya’s,” Iida said, “you haven’t fully recovered from your own injuries yet. You need to rest.”

“I said I was fucking fine.”

Iida looked at him with knowing eyes and a gentle smile. It annoyed Katsuki even more.

“He won’t disappear if you stop watching him, Bakugou."

“Yeah. We’ll stay with him,” Kirishima added with a thumbs up.

Katsuki gritted his teeth. As much as he hated to admit it, they were right. His empty stomach only served to fuel his anger more.

“I hear they’re serving spicy curry for lunch in the cafeteria,” Iida coaxed.

Katsuki had relented at that point, not because it was his favorite, of course, the growling in his stomach was just giving him away.

Katsuki returned less than an hour later. Kirishima and Iida admittedly had reassured him, to some degree, but it wasn’t enough to quell his anxiety. Iida scolded him for refusing to rest, but did nothing to stop him, as if he knew his efforts were futile. The pair stayed with Katsuki at Izuku’s bedside a while longer, but left him to his devices nonetheless.

Half and Half stopped by some time later, tapping on Katsuki’s shoulder and waking him from a restless sleep in a shitty plastic chair at Izuku’s bedside.

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable to sleep in your bed, Bakugou?” he asked, sitting in a chair adjacent to him.

“I was sleeping just fine before you fucking showed up, you Half and Half bastard,” Katsuki snarled.

“I’ve been here for an hour and a half, actually,” Todoroki stated. Always so fucking deadpan.

“Why the fuck did you wake me up now then?”

“You looked uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine, asshole,” Katsuki grumbled. Todoroki looked unconvinced.

“I figured you would say that. Here, I brought you this,” Todoroki produced a blanket from behind his chair and handed it to Katsuki.

“I don’t need your fucking charity," Katsuki grumbled, but accepted it anyway, silently grateful for refuge from the chill in the room.

“It’s no trouble,” Todoroki patted his shoulder.

“Tch.” Katsuki shrugged him off.

They sat in silence for a while. Izuku still hadn’t budged. Katsuki was worried, but some part of him was thankful that Izuku was finally fucking resting.

“Everyone is proud of you, you know,” Todoroki said quietly.

“Haah?!”

“It took courage, what you did. We know it’s not easy for you to express your emotions,” he paused, considering his next words, “it... doesn’t come naturally to me, either.”

“No shit!” Katsuki barked. Todoroki raised a finger to his lips to shush him and nodded at Izuku, who had grunted in his sleep.

“I’m just saying, your efforts aren’t unseen. We know you’ve been working hard, and that this has been weighing on you for a long time. If it weren’t for you, Midoriya might not have listened to us.”

“You don’t know shit,” Katsuki grumbled, averting his eyes. Katsuki was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t good at this shit, and Todoroki knew it, so why wouldn’t he shut up?

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. We can change the topic,” Todoroki said, as if he could read Katsuki’s mind.

“Or we could stop fucking talking altogether,”

Todoroki smiled and nodded, returning his gaze to Izuku. Katsuki’s eyes followed and he frowned.

“He’s such a fucking idiot,” Katsuki muttered, leaning forward in his chair and resting his chin on his hand. Todoroki chuckled.

“He is certainly reckless,” Todoroki nodded, “I’m disappointed to learn he felt he had to keep such a big secret. But, he is my friend, and I will continue to be as supportive as I can. He would do the same for us.”

“No, he’d do more, and end up getting himself fucking killed."

“That’s…" Todoroki frowned, "probably true."

They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Todoroki fucking piped up again, much to Katsuki’s dismay.

“I know Midoriya appreciated what you said,” his voice was soft.

“Words don’t matter. Actions do,” Katsuki’s response was immediate.

“Well your actions have spoken clearly. “You're a better person than you think you are, Bakugou.”

Katsuki whipped his head to glare at Todoroki with an insult on his tongue, but he found himself speechless instead, staring with an incredulous look on his face. He mentally kicked himself for it.

“I just hope you know that, too,” Todoroki offered a half-smile.

Katsuki was frustratingly taken aback. He averted his eyes and looked at the ground with a scowl. That damn fucking Half and Half.

Todoroki thankfully shut his mouth after that. Katsuki wasn’t sure how long they sat together in silence. It wasn’t until the sun had set and the room began to fill with darkness that he heard Todoroki rise from his seat.

“I’m going to go lie down. You should, too,” Todoroki said plainly.

Katsuki sighed. He was right, but there was a sickeningly uneasy feeling in his gut whenever he thought about leaving that he just couldn’t shake.

“I…I can’t,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

Todoroki patted his shoulder again, and Katsuki didn’t push him away this time.

“Thanks,” Katsuki shrugged, “for the blanket or whatever.”

Todoroki nodded. He left the door cracked behind him on his way out.

Katsuki pulls the blanket around himself and reclines in his chair, putting his feet up on Todoroki’s abandoned one. It’s really fucking uncomfortable, but Katsuki knows it would be impossible to sleep if he were anywhere else.

After too many attempts to reposition himself comfortably, Katsuki groans and sits up straight, turning his head to watch Izuku again. He’s still sleeping soundly.

Katsuki leans forward and, without thinking, brushes his hand through Izuku’s hair, pushing back a few stray curls. The moonlight flickering through the blinds illuminates his face, and Katsuki thinks that, somehow, this is the most peaceful he’s seen Izuku in ages.

Katsuki can’t remember the last time Izuku wasn’t at least slightly on edge. He is always looking over his shoulder, as if he’s expecting the enemy to be watching. He spends every minute of his free time training or muttering to himself about battle strategies. The nerd doesn’t even know the meaning of the word “relax.”

Katsuki slides his hand down to cup Izuku’s cheek. His skin is soft and warm, just like last time, and he can’t help but feel an awful sense of dèjá vu. He stays that way for a few moments, just reveling in the fact that Izuku is really here. This isn't a dream, he’s finally here, and Katsuki will never fucking let him go again.

When Katsuki reluctantly moves to pull away, Izuku reaches up to grab his hand, nuzzling into it.

Katsuki is startled, as Izuku is seemingly still asleep. He brushes Izuku’s cheekbone with the backs of his fingers, and swears he sees the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You’re a dumbass,” Katsuki mumbles, propping his elbow on the bed to rest his head in his free hand.

“I can hear you, Kacchan.”

Katsuki jolts up in surprise to see Izuku staring at him with one eye cracked open and a smirk on his lips.

“Shit, did I wake you?” Katsuki tries again to pull his arm away, but Izuku holds on tight, as if Katsuki is his lifeline and he’s barely hanging on.

“D-don’t go,” Izuku stutters, burying his face in Katsuki’s hand. Katsuki caresses his cheek again and frowns when he finds wetness there.

“Are you crying?” Katsuki asks, though he’s not sure why, because he already knows the answer.

“N-no,” Izuku sniffles. Katsuki rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Hey, look at me,” Katsuki whispers, lifting his free hand to Izuku’s other cheek and turning his head to face him.

Izuku whimpers, holding Katsuki’s arms in a vice grip as he looks up. His eyes are sunken and glassy, overflowing with tears that Katsuki wipes away with his thumbs.

Fuck, he looks like a fucking zombie. His face is paler than usual and littered with scratches, and heavy, dark circles line his eyes. Katsuki suppresses a sudden urge to wrap him in his arms and hold him tight.

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki murmurs, stroking his cheeks in what he hopes is a soothing manner.

Izuku’s face contorts and a new wave of tears begin to fall.

“I-I’m so s-sorry Kacchan,” he snivels.

Katsuki holds his face tighter.

“I told you, we get it. Don’t beat yourself up, you’ve already done plenty of that.”

Izuku chokes a laugh through a broken sob and Katsuki counts it as a small victory.

“I a-am pretty messed up, h-huh?” Izuku hiccups, “but so are you.”

“Tch. I’m fine,” Katsuki lies, feeling a familiar twinge of pain in his side.

“I kn-know you better than that, Kacchan,” Izuku meets Katsuki’s gaze, “d-don’t think I didn’t see you bleeding back there.”

“I was bleeding. I’m not anymore, see?” Katsuki points to his newly applied bandages, “The old lady patched me up.”

Recovery Girl had given Katsuki a thorough scolding for tearing his wounds. Something about being too reckless, to stop throwing himself in front of danger because isn't it hypocritical of you to tell Midoriya to look after himself, but you won't do the same? That had pissed Katsuki off to no end, but he’d accepted her help anyway.

“Y-you could’ve hurt yourself-”

“But I didn’t! Quit worrying about everyone else,” Katsuki looks Izuku dead in the eyes, “think about your goddamn self for once.”

Izuku shakes his head frantically.

“I can’t. I said so many terrible things I- I h-have to apologize-,” Izuku tries to get up, but Katsuki is lightning fast as he moves to sit on the bed in front of him, gripping his shoulders to hold him in place.

“You can do that later. You need to fucking relax. Did you forget you were beaten to a pulp?” Katsuki reminds him.

“Kacchan, I’m f-”

“Don’t fucking say you’re fine! You’re not, and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter, Kacchan!” Izuku shouts,“I can’t- I can’t just sit here while everyone else is-”

“Everyone is safe,” Katsuki lightly shakes him, “and we’re safer if we're together.”

Izuku presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Izuku repeats himself. His voice is shaking. “I ne-”

“Shut the fuck up. You matter,” Katsuki says firmly, pulling Izuku’s hands away and holding onto them.

Izuku weakly lifts his head to meet Katsuki’s eyes. He looks taken aback, and even more exhausted than before, but Izuku is just as stubborn as Katsuki is, and Katsuki can tell he still has an argument left in him.

“Izuku,” Katsuki watches Izuku's eyes widen as he utters his name for a second time. It feels foreign on his tongue, but he knows the weight it carries, and he'll say it over and over if it makes Izuku happy.

Katsuki pushes back the hair that’s fallen in front of Izuku's face and knocks their foreheads together.

“Izuku,” he repeats, “ You fucking matter,” there’s a sharpness to Katsuki’s tone he hadn’t intended, but he can tell Izuku gets the message. He swears he sees the color return to Izuku’s bloodshot eyes before they squeeze shut, overflowing with new tears.

Izuku buries his head in Katsuki’s chest and wails. Katsuki immediately wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a tight embrace, ignoring the aching pain in his injured shoulder and side.

“I-I’m s-so sorry,” Izuku’s entire body shakes as he clings to Katsuki. Katsuki holds him tighter, rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay,” Katsuki murmurs, trying his best to soothe him, but Izuku only cries harder. Katsuki’s own eyes begin to burn.

“It’s s’not o-okay, Kac-chan,” Izuku stutters.

“Nobody is mad at you."

“Th-they should b-be,” Izuku insists miserably

“Well they’re not.”

“I think All M-might is.”

“Haah?! The fuck kind of reason does All Might have to be mad at you?” Katsuki is baffled. “I should fucking clock him in the face again.”

“Y-you punched All Might?!” Izuku lifts his chin to stare incredulously at Katsuki.

“Damn right I did. But that’s beside the point. Why the fuck’s he mad?”

Izuku hides his face again, his voice muffled by Katsuki’s now damp shirt and his own sobs, “I w-was so mean t-to him. I told him I d-didn’t need him anymore and r-ran away, I-”

“Breathe, Dek- Izuku,” Katsuki whispers, brushing Izuku’s cheek with his fingers as Izuku begins to hyperventilate. “Breathe. He’s not mad, he’s probably just worried.” He better not be fucking mad.

“I-I have to t-talk to him too,”

“It can wait. Right now you need to fucking rest.”

They stay that way for a while, wrapped in the safety of each other’s arms as Izuku’s cries slowly start to dissipate. At some point, Katsuki isn’t sure when, traitorous tears start to roll down his own face. Izuku notices before he does, feeling the sudden moisture on his shoulder, and he tells him so.

“I’m not fucking crying,” Katsuki grumbles, though his voice is hoarse.

“It’s o-okay Kacchan,”

“Shit,” Now they’re both blubbering idiots.

Izuku squeezes Katsuki tighter as they cry together. Katsuki tries not to wince as he returns the gesture, his shoulder screaming in protest, but Izuku notices. Of course he fucking notices.

“K-Kacchan-,” Izuku’s voice is laced with unnecessary concern as he immediately loosens his grip and starts to pull back.

“Don’t,” Katsuki growls, rubbing his eyes, “Don’t fucking worry about me.”

Izuku sniffles and shakes his head, “I c-can’t help it.”

Katsuki heaves a sigh. “I know.”

Izuku places his shaky, scarred hands on either side of Katsuki’s face in a gentle caress that makes Katsuki’s heart fucking squeeze. When he finally lifts his eyes, he finds Izuku looking at him with a wobbly smile. His cheeks are tear-stained and there's a trace of something haunted behind his eyes, but it's undeniable that a weight has lifted from his shoulders.

Katskui quirks his lips in a half smile. Fuck, he’d missed Izuku.

Izuku yawns and lies back in the bed. “I’m tired again.”

“Well, get some sleep then, nerd,” Katsuki moves to slide back in his chair, but Izuku stops him, grabbing his hand.

“Wait! I- could-” Izuku bites his lip, “could you...stay with me?”

Katsuki squeezes his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, nerd. Someone has to keep your ass in line," he smirks.

Izuku laughs, the first real laugh Katsuki has heard in ages, and Katsuki thinks it might be his favorite sound.

“No, I mean here, next to me,” Izuku scoots over in the bed and pats the space next to him.

“I don’t think-”

“Just until I fall asleep,” Izuku pleads, “...please?”

Katsuki finally relents and slides in next to him. Izuku looks relieved, draping the blanket around them both and curling up to Katsuki’s uninjured side. Katsuki wraps his arm around Izuku’s waist, careful not to dislodge the bandages there. He briefly wonders why this feels so natural.

Izuku’s voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks next. “I- I’m scared, Kacchan.”

“I know. But everything’s gonna be fine."

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

“No one’s gonna get hurt. We’re gonna figure this out, and we’re gonna figure it out together.”

“I really shouldn’t be here,” Izuku sighs.

“Shut the fuck up. You really wanna be out there? Where people are lookin’ to wring your neck at every turn?”

“Of course not! But that’s exactly why I should be. No one here is safe while I’m around.”

Izuku startles when Katsuki suddenly grabs his chin and lifts it up with his free hand to make Izuku look him in the eyes “Bullshit. I already told you, you can’t win this alone. So stop trying."

Izuku swallows hard, on the verge of tears again. Katsuki tucks Izuku's head under his chin.

"Saving people is how we win, remember? That means you gotta let us save you sometimes, too." Katsuki holds Izuku tight as he cries, gently combing his fingers through thick green curls.

“You should be here," Katsuki continues, "you belong here, Izuku." With me, he adds, but only in his thoughts.

Izuku stills and lifts his head from Katsuki’s chest to stare at him with wide, curious eyes. He's no longer crying. “Kacchan?”

“What?” Katsuki is confused as he watches Izuku’s cheeks flush a deep red.

“I belong with...you?”

Fuck, did he say that out loud?

Katsuki suddenly becomes very aware of their proximity and feels his own face heat.

Their faces are already inches apart, and Izuku is coming closer, cupping Katsuki's cheeks with freezing cold hands. He's close enough that Katsuki can feel Izuku’s heartbeat, his breath on his nose, and fuck, when did their legs tangle together?

Izuku’s thumb lightly strokes his cheekbone and Katsuki finds himself inadvertently leaning into his touch. His breath catches in his throat when he finally meets his gaze. Izuku’s eyes are soft and warm and he’s smiling, a real smile that is secretly Katsuki’s favorite, one that he hasn't seen in far too long. He decides he would sooner die than see it extinguished ever again.

He's embarrassed by his accidental confession, but something about the way Izuku is looking at him, with that soft gaze full of light and wonderment Katsuki knows is reserved only for him, makes the anxiety melt away. The eyes that used to infuriate him now leave him feeling warm and safe, like he has a place in this world, and he realizes there's nowhere he'd rather fucking be than right by Izuku's side.

"Did you mean that?" Izuku whispers, breaking him from his reverie.

“Yeah. Stay with me,” Katsuki grazes his fingers across Izuku's cheek. "...please."

Izuku's smile is breathtaking. It lights a fire in Katsuki's chest.

"I will," Izuku breathes, leaning in to close the distance between them.

Their lips meet halfway in a desperate kiss and a jolt of electricity courses through Katsuki's body. Izuku's hands tangle into Katsuki's hair and Katsuki cradles his face as they explore each other for the first time. It's messy and uncoordinated, but Izuku's lips are soft and inviting and nothing has ever felt so fucking right.

Katsuki's hold on Izuku's waist tightens, pulling him closer, but it's still not close enough. They've been through a decade of miscommunication and separation, unchecked feelings, and the debilitating fear of losing each other. Now that Izuku is here, safe in his arms, Katsuki wants nothing more than to stay in the warmth of this moment forever, to melt into each other and never let go again.

"K-Kacchan," Izuku pants as he slowly pulls away. Oh, right, breathing.

He presses his forehead to Katsuki's as they gasp for air, and they cling to each other as if the other could disappear at any moment.

Katsuki's head is spinning as he looks at Izuku. His cheeks have flushed deeper, lips kissed red and swollen, eyes blown wide as he stares in amazement.

"I missed you," Izuku whispers between heavy breaths.

"Me too,"

Katsuki tucks Izuku's head into the crook of his neck and holds him tight.

“I am….glad to be back,” Izuku murmurs, “it was terrifying out there. I was so exhausted."

No shit, Katsuki thinks.

"Do you want to...talk about it?"

"I-" Izuku pauses, considering. His voice is small when he says, "Maybe later. I don't...I don't want to think about it right now."

Katsuki laces the fingers of one hand with Izuku's and squeezes.

"Okay. But, uh, I'm here if you do. Want to talk or whatever." Katsuki tries his best to sound encouraging. Izuku tilts his head up and nods with a smile.

“Okay.”

There's still so much Katsuki wants to say, but he can't put it into words. He's always been better with actions. He thinks back on all that he said before Izuku passed out in his arms, and wonders if it was enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki notices Izuku peering up at him.

“What are you staring at, nerd?” Katsuki smirks as Izuku averts his eyes, color blooming on his face again.

“I- I’m not, I just- thank you, Kacchan.”

"For what?"

“For everything.”

Katsuki shrugs. “I didn’t do shit."

"Yes you did," Izuku brushes a lock of hair behind Katsuki's ear, "you're here right now. You listened, you encouraged me, you made me feel safe enough to come back here. I wouldn’t have had the strength without you.”

Katsuki is at a loss for words.

"Todoroki was right, you know," Izuku says softly, "you're better than you think you are."

Katsuki feels his face flush and looks away. But then it dawns on him.

"You were listening to us?"

"Uh- just a little...only bits and pieces."

"You were awake? Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to interrupt you," Izuku shrugs. "You and Todoroki never talk, it seemed important. Plus, I was so out of it I thought I was dreaming at first."

"So you were just eavesdropping like a creep?" He teases, snickering when Izuku buries his face in embarrassment.

"I'd rather talk to you than that Half and Half bastard, dumbass," Katsuki ruffles Izuku's hair.

"Sorry, Kacchan."

"Quit apologizing."

Normally he probably would be pissed, but there isn’t even a trace of anger in him right now.

"I'm not the only one who's reckless, by the way," Izuku playfully nudges Katsuki.

"I'm not fucking reckless."

Izuku frowns. "Kacchan, you were stabbed. And you tore open your wounds trying to get to me when you should've been taking it easy. You took off into battle without a second thought."

"Sounds familiar," Katsuki glares at him.

"I know. I admit I don't always think things through….and sometimes I think too much. I never put myself first. You made me realize that. I'm...going to try to work on it. But you can't deny that you do it sometimes too."

Katsuki is silent again.

"And when was the last time you ate? Or slept somewhere other than a tiny chair? You tell me I need to take better care of myself, but you don't do the same."

"I'm fine." Katsuki insists, but Izuku knows him better than he knows himself and sees right through the lie.

Katsuki sighs. Deep down, he knows Izuku and the old lady are right. Sometimes... he can be a dumbass and a hypocrite.

"My body…I told you, it moved on it's own. I just saw you in the air and fucking panicked. You were about to die," Katsuki’s voice shakes, “You were about to die, and it was like… like my entire fucking life flashed before my eyes. There was so much I needed to say to you, I couldn't handle the thought of losing you, Izuku. Especially before- before I had the chance to-, " Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and grunts in an effort to hold back tears that were threatening to fall.

Katsuki feels Izuku's gentle touch on his cheek again and meets his gaze.

"I know. It's okay. Let's just agree that we're both idiots and try to be better, together. If not for ourselves, then for each other. I can't stand the thought of losing you either, Kacchan," Izuku's eyes are impossibly soft

"I really do appreciate everything you said, Kacchan. It means so much to me. I know it's not easy for you to do that."

"I meant every fucking word," Katsuki says firmly.

"I know. And I forgave you a long time ago, Kacchan. Yeah, things were rocky for a while, but I see you. I see how you've changed, and how much effort you've been putting in. I feel safest and strongest when I'm with you. You're the most amazing person I've ever known, and you always will be."

Izuku's eyes well up with tears again as he smiles, and Katsuki feels like his heart could burst out of his chest. He presses a gentle kiss to Izuku's palm and cups his face, tracing his lips with his thumb.

"You make me stronger," Katsuki stares deep into his eyes.

Katsuki feels his brain short circuit as Izuku presses a gentle, sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. Katsuki holds him there as he pulls away, chasing his lips with his own.

This kiss is softer and less hurried, but just as passionate. They're completely enveloped in each other as they revel in the fact that this is real. There’s nowhere in the world either of them would rather be. Katsuki didn’t realize just how badly he needs Izuku until he was gone, and thinks that, maybe, Izuku feels the same way.

It feels like it’s been an eternity when they slowly break apart, and Katsuki can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

Izuku lays his head on Katsuki's chest and cuddles up to his side. Katsuki idly strokes his back, just relishing the moment.

Fuck, he’d missed Izuku.

"I don't mind if- uh, if you keep calling me Deku, by the way," Izuku mutters..

"You don't like it when I say your name?"

"No! No, that's not it- I mean it is a little weird, but uh- I like it? Hearing it in your voice, I mean," Izuku rambles on, and Katsuki finds that he's even missed that too.

"I just, um, I mean- Deku is fine too. It has a different meaning for us both now, you know? It stopped being an insult a long time ago. And, uh, it feels, um...special, I guess? I don't know. My point is, either is fine. I don't want you to feel like...like you're disrespecting me, or something," Izuku's face is bright red as he notices Katsuki smirking at him.

"You're such a nerd," Katsuki laughs when Izuku scowls, and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I’ll call you whatever the fuck you want me to call you.”

“Either is good. I promise.”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see then, huh?”

"Yeah," Izuku smiles, then his brows furrow and he pauses. "Katsuki."

They both frown and Katsuki shakes his head.

"Nope. Too weird. I'd rather be Kacchan forever,” Katsuki grimaces.

“I think so too,” Izuku laughs.

"You should sleep, nerd." Katsuki murmurs.

"Mm, yeah,” Izuku yawns, “You should too, Kacchan."

"Yeah, yeah."

"But you'll still be here when I wake up, right?" Izuku looks up at him with pleading eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Izuku breathes a sigh of relief and snuggles closer.

"Tomorrow...tomorrow is gonna be hard."

"Nah. I'll beat the shit out of anyone who tries anything funny. Like I said, we'll get through this.”

"Together?"

"Together."

-------

bonus:

Sunlight is filtering through the blinds of the room's tiny window when Katsuki awakens. He feels more rested than he has in ages. Izuku is still curled up at his side with his head on his chest, snoring softly, and Katsuki can’t help but smile.

“Nice, bro!” someone whispers from the doorway. Katsuki’s head whips up to see Shitty Hair and Sparky, grinning at him with their thumbs up.

Katsuki is filled with white hot rage as his face flushes. If it wasn't for the fact that Izuku has him pinned, he would beat the shit out of those assholes.

“See ya, loverboy!” Kaminari whistles as they bolt out of the room.

Oh, they are dead meat when Katsuki’s hands are free.

A/N: I wrote this while listening to "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie and "Make You Mine (acoustic)" by PUBLIC-highly recommend them if you're looking to yearn lmao

The large block of italicized text is meant to be a flashback- I hope that was clear :')

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!! Feedback/reblogs are appreciated as always <3

Also- shout out to @sheiireen for her very helpful advice on this. She's amazingly talented, you should check her out!!

#i even capitalized all of my sentences wow #ahhhh im so nervous to post this hfewufnj #i hope yall liked it!!#anyways bkdk canon lmao #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #my fic #birdie writes #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #kirishima eijirou #iida tenya #reblogs are appreciated 💕

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priortoallthoughts · 3 years

Text

Don’t Mess With the Commander’s Caf

(or do, because it’s gotten you this far)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Commander Fox x afab!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing; gets a bit spicy at the end but nothing explicit.

Summary: What is supposed to be a night out at 79s turns into a night in the drunk tank, and the morning starts a startling new relationship with a certain Coruscant Guard Commander. All over a cup of caf.

// [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Masterlist

A night out in Coruscant is never complete for you without going to the clone bar, 79s. You may pre-game somewhere else, but you always end up there, recognizable as one of their regulars. You love the atmosphere, honestly. It’s so jovial, just vode – and weren’t you surprised when you found out that clones spoke a different language with each other – coming to forget the war for a night. Living life as much as they could. You’ve picked up a few words of theirs purely because you hear them so often. Many a curse word too, which are your favorites.

And they were about to be put to good use.

You’re already buzzed and walking with a group of grey-clad troopers that had pulled you into their group when they saw you walking alone. You chat easily with them even though you never met them before. That’s the funny thing about being sociable when you’re sober – you’re even more chatty when you drink. And giggly apparently, considering you couldn’t stop laughing at the mission gone wonky they were telling you about.

When 79s came into view your smile widens. There really is nothing like the neon lights and bass you can already hear resonating from inside. Were there probably millions of places just like in on Coruscant already? Sure. But there isn’t anywhere aside from 79s you could find this kind of ambiance.

There is one downside that pisses you off like no other though.

There’s yelling coming from over by the speeder-way and when you look over, another civilian is getting in the face of a Coruscant guard member. The frown the graces your face feels wrong after laughing so much, but you can’t help it. You pause in your tracks. Usually when you see this kinda shit it deescalates fairly quickly, but this civilian is getting louder and more violent the more the (admittedly nervous acting) guard tried to calm him down.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder and you look up to see one of your group. “We can’t do anything. The punishment would be too harsh and that civvie chakaar won’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

Your frown turns into a snarl. “You can’t do anything.”

Fishing your flask out of your jacket pocket you take a swig before shoving it into the chest of the closest trooper. The steady click of your heels is the only thing you can hear over the growing volume of yelling.

“Hey! Shabuir in the stupid shirt!” Your own yell interrupts.

You have exactly one second to reconsider things before you think about all the vitriol this jackass is spewing at the guard for nothing. The sound of your fist hitting his face is the most satisfying thing you’ve heard tonight, along with the yelp he lets out when he hits the ground.

“What the kriff is your problem, bitch?!”

“You talking shit about this trooper is my problem!”

He turns towards the guard again and the trooper flinches. “I want her arrested for battery!”

You lean down to grab his collar and shake him out. “Oh, so now you want him to do his job? The one you were just belittling him for? Can’t have it both ways, chakaar!”

“Let go of me!”

You drop him so suddenly that his head cracks against the ground. He scrambles to his feet and points a finger at you. “You’ll regret this! They’re nothing but meat-droids!”

“Say that again, you little pissant. I dare you.” You go to take a step forward but he’s already running away. A hand on your shoulder again makes you look over to the one you defended.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” And he does sound sorry. “I will have to take you in tonight. I… can’t ignore you attacking someone right in front of me.”

You smile at him. “No problem, trooper. Do your job; I don’t want you getting in trouble.” You offer your wrists to him and next thing you know they’re in a pair of binders behind your back and you’re being placed in the back of a speeder.

“A night in the drunk tank should sort you out.”

The smile you give him is blinding, because not only do you know that’s not the proper booking for what you just did, at least you look cute while you’re being taken away.

---

When you wake up in your cell (lucky you’re the only one there) you’re beyond tired and in desperate need of some caf. You can’t function without it in the morning.

There’s a guard member who lets you out not long after you get up. You follow him like a zombie. Presumably he’s leading you out of all the twisting hallways, but you stop short when your nose picks up the distinct smell of caf.

But not just any caf. You know the smell of Death Wish anywhere.

Your favorite.

You follow your nose to a mess hall – sparsely populated but still enough that everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you as you make your way to the caf machines in the back. You’re basically falling asleep as you walk so you don’t notice. Maybe you should care, considering you’re still wearing your clubbing outfit from last night, but no, you don’t actually care.

When you get there you see two different machines. One is labeled with some cheap, generic caf name and the other is simply “Fox’s Starfighter Fuel.”

You grab a flimsi cup and fill it with the second one. No cream. No sugar.

No life, only caf.

You finally notice how deathly quite it is as you take your first sip and turn around. There’s one trooper standing in front of you, helmet tucked under his arm, and the most severe look you’ve ever seen before gracing his features. You look him over with half-lidded eyes, noticing he’s dressed differently than the others, and casually take another sip of caf.

“You must be Fox.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this part of the building, who let you in here?”

Still waiting for the caf to kick in, you shrug. “Spent the night in the tank. No one stopped me when I walked in.”

Fox turns to glare at everyone sitting at the tables. They all look down at their food like they weren’t obviously watching and someone starts whistling.

“You need to leave,” he says when he turns back around.

“Can I finish my caf first?” You ask, taking more sips hoping to stall.

He glowers even more. “That’s not even your caf!”

“Shame.” You chug the rest of the still mostly full cup and coughs wrack your chest when you finish. “I think I just burned my esophagus,” you rasp.

“Get out.”

“That’s completely fair.”

You toss your cup in the trash on the way out. Turning the way you were going before you got distracted, you make your way to the exit; no need to bring the wrath of Fox down on you for sticking around. You feel like, once again, you get off light and dont’t want to press your luck. The smile that graces your face as you step outside is probably a strange thing for anyone else to see considering you’re walking out of jail, but you had a good night, and the morning is shaping up to follow suit.

---

The next day you walk into the caf shop you normally stop at on the way to work. The barista behind the counter waves as you walk up. “Your usual, hun?”

“You know me,” you smile brightly, “but, uh, can you make it two?”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t imagine the morning you’re expecting to have!”

You laugh and wave her off. “Nothing bad. I owe someone a cup.”

“You mean someone else drinks this sludge?”

“Imagine my surprise. And it’s not that bad!”

She places two large flimsi cups in front of you. Your hands rub together nervously before you get your thoughts together. “Can I borrow your marker?”

She hands it to you with a raised eyebrow and you quickly scribble a few words on one of the cups. It isn’t a lot, and it completely gives away who you are without having to sign your name, so you hope it’s okay.

“Thanks, gotta run!” You scurry out of the door before the barista can ask anything about what you’re doing.

You aren’t even sure yourself if you were being completely honest. The Coruscant Guard building is a little out of your way from your route to work, but you leave early in the mornings anyway, so you can still make it in time even with the detour. You feel a bit nervous walking in this time. Where did all your confidence from yesterday go?

You flag down the first trooper you see that doesn’t look busy.

“Can you give this to Fox, please?” You hold out the cup for him to take.

He doesn’t.

He only stands there, and you imagine he’s making a face behind his helmet because he doesn’t say anything either.

After a few seconds of silence you lower the cup awkwardly. “Uhh, oh, sorry, am I allowed to bring caf?”

“Why are you bringing the Commander caf?” He finally asks.

You squeeze the cups so much the tops almost pops off. “Fox is a commander?”

“Commander Fox is head of the Coruscant Guard, ma’am.”

The top of your own cup does pop off this time, but nothing spills.

“The entire guard?” You squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heat is quick to crawl up your face. “Oh stars, I can’t believe I took his caf.” Your internal panic is quickly becoming external as you try not to drop either cup. You hid your face behind one in embarrassment.

“Wait.” The guard member tilts his head. “You’re the one they were talking about yesterday? The girl from the mess hall?”

There’s a few second where nothing but incomprehensible noises come out of your mouth, but you finally get out, “how many people know about that?!”

“It’s made its way around.”

“I’m gonna - kriff - go throw myself off the senate building I swear-“

You’re cut off by the sound of a chuckle and you snap your head up to see the guard member’s shoulders shaking. “So you’re not trying to poison the Commander, huh?”

“No!” You yelp, but quiet down after you see others turn to look at you. “I was just trying to repay the caf I drank! We like the same kind!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Can you please just give this to him before I die of embarrassment? You’re killing me here!”

He laughs again and finally takes the cup from your shaking hands. “Who should I say it’s from?”

You slap a hand over your face to hide your grimace. “At this point I’d rather not tell you. I want to keep some of my dignity intact,” you mutter.

“Nobody’s dignity is intact here, ma’am.”

“Oh… joy.”

“You best be on your way then.”

He is giving you an out and you’re taking it in full.

“Have a good day,” you say as you turn, the only proof you’ve been there being one guard member and a note on a flimsi cup.

“Sorry for taking your caf yesterday.”

---

One week later you find yourself standing outside of the caf shop, once again with two cups in hand through no fault of your own. It makes you think that maybe another trip to the Coruscant Guard building wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Why waste a perfectly good drink after all?

You pause immediately when you step through the door, because the man you’re looking for is standing across the room talking to someone with a datapad in hand. The decision on whether to interrupt is made for you when the person he’s talking to looks over and spots you.

He waves and Fox finally looks over as well, tilting his head as he does so. You take a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Caf girl!”

You raised your eyebrow at the other trooper. “I really am known around here for that, aren’t I?” You say as you stop in front of them. You have a sneaking suspicion that he is the same one you talked to last week.

“Well you never gave me your name,” he shrugs.

Yeah, it’s him.

Your head snaps to Fox, however, when he addresses you.

“You know my name?”

“Your information was processed and put into the system when you spent the night in the tank.”

“Osik,” you mutter.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

You perk up some, and hold out the second drink in your hand. “Right, there was a mixup at the caf shop, and I got an extra drink. I thought you might like it.”

He takes it carefully, but your bare fingers still brush against his gloved ones. They tingle when you pull away, and while the heat on your palm from holding the hot cup fades, the heat in your fingertips does not. You have the sudden urge to find out what holding his hand feels like, but you push that thought down along with the blush you can feel rising. Now isn’t the time. You have to get to work. Maybe if you come by earlier next time….. would there be a next time?

“Thank you. I… appreciate the thought.” You think you hear him trip over his words, but there’s no way.

You smile brightly at him. “You’re welcome!” You check the time on your chrono. “Looks like I gotta bounce. Enjoy your caf, Commander!”

Your retreat is quick, but hells if you don’t add a little extra sway to your hips as you walk out the doors.

And scribbled on the cup now in Fox’s hand is:

“I know day old caf when I taste it. Fresh is better.”

---

You start to bring Fox caf every week.

“This has become part of my routine, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Every week turns into every few days.

“Your filing system is horrifying but at least your chair is comfy.”

Every few days turns into every day.

“Tell Thorn that if he sees me at 79s tonight, he can’t arrest me just so I’ll hang out with him.”

And leaving early just to see Fox is the best part of your day no matter what. You hope you’re not the only one who feels like this. That maybe as you walk to the Guard building in the morning, you’re not the only one smiling and counting down the minutes until you get to Fox’s office. He never turns you away, and he’s always there to take the extra caf from your hands if he can be. Sometimes you have to leave it on his desk if he’s not in, but you understand that his job isn’t easy by any stretch of the word.

He is in this morning, however, seeing as the door opens promptly at your knock. He sits behind his desk, a few data pads already stacked next to him and a frown marring his face. That won’t do.

“Credit for your thoughts?” You say as you set his caf down next to his helmet and lean against his desk.

Fox looks up and gives you a tired smile, unaware of how it makes your stomach flutter. “Shaping up to be a long day.”

“Giving yourself more grey hairs already?” You say, giving a pointed look to his already greying sides.

“Like I need any more,” he huffs.

“I dunno,” you reach up and run your fingers lightly through his short curls, “I think they make you look distinguished.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. “At least one of us thinks so.”

“It’s okay, I can like it enough for the both of us.”

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He smirks, finally taking a sip of his caf and sighing contently into the cup.

You give him a cheeky grin. “You should.”

He looks at you then, not saying anything, and you can’t help the flush you feel crawling up your face. You swear, you had never blushed so much around anyone before you met him. You distract yourself by drinking your own caf, the liquid welcome to your suddenly dry mouth.

“I do.”

“What?” Your head snaps back up to him and he’s still looking at you, but not in a way you’ve seen before.

“I do count myself lucky.”

You look away shyly, a small smile forming at the corners of your mouth. Sure, you two have been lightly flirting with each other, or at at least you’re definitely flirting with him, but this is the most straight-forward thing he’s ever said to you.

“It’s a good thing I got myself arrested that night then, isn’t it?”

It’s uncharted territory, where this conversation is heading. The thought of what it could be sits low in your belly and causes you to let out a shakey breath.

“It’s quite the holovid to watch,” he says offhandedly.

You’re lucky you aren’t drinking your caf, otherwise you would have spit it everywhere. You turn your head so hard you think you give yourself whiplash, mouth agape, looking at him in wide-eyed mortification.

“There’s a holo of that?!” The pitch of your voice would be embarrassing if you weren’t in the middle of spontaneously combusting on the inside.

He nods empathetically, which is shit because you know for damn sure he’s not empathetic about it; he’s having too much fun with this. You know he is, with that stupid, heart-stopping smirk playing on his face.

“Our HUDs record each incident for our files to make sure everything matches up with the reports.”

“Nooooooooooooo,” you whine quietly into your hands that now cover your face. You hear him get up and move to stand in front of you, but you don’t react. Mainly because you have no idea what he’s doing, but also he’s so kriffing close you can barely handle it.

His pries your hands from your face and presses them to his desk, effectively caging you in. He’s even closer now, and you’re hyper aware of how hard your heart is pounding even though you stop breathing. It’s the last thing from threatening, but you’re still frozen.

He leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear. “You look good in that little red dress of yours,” he whispers, his voice octaves lower than before. “Especially when you’re beating the kark out of a civvie – standing up for my vod.” It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine and straight to your ovaries.

You suck in a breath when he pulls away. This is much more than you could have expected. “You’re not giving me much incentive to not be arrested again,” you tilt your head, “now that I know you’d be watching.”

“Always watching you, cyare.”

You hum, pulling one hand away from his to run up his armor and trace lightly over his jaw. “Gonna have to try harder to get a pair of binders on me next time, then.”

“Would you run?”

“Only if you’re the one chasing me.”

You move your hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and scratch lightly, feeling more than seeing him shiver under your fingertips.

“I’d find you.”

“Oh, I’d be counting on it, Commander.”

It’s a mutual surge that leads you two to lean in, culminating in the most charged kiss you’ve ever received. You throw your other hand around his neck, holding him as close as you can, while his hands latch onto your hips, pulling you up and into his embrace. He leads you back until he’s sitting in his chair and the next thing you know you’re falling into his lap to straddle him. You break for air, and to process that yes, this is happening, before you’re kissing again. A little slower; a little deeper.

You moan quietly into his mouth, and his hands move to your ass so he can pull you even closer.

There’s a chime from your chrono and you pull away, panting.

Fox’s eyes are dark and hungry when he looks at you. “You have to go soon.”

You nod, not breaking eye contact, and not moving either.

He grins, and it looks absolutely predatory. He slides the top of your blouse down slowly, just enough for his mouth to latch on to you right above your collarbone. You let out another breathy moan, and his teeth graze your skin in response as he sucks harder. His tongue soothes the area over when he lets go, and he looks at the quickly darkening spot with what you can only assume is possessive pride.

“For you to remember,” he says huskily.

Knowing he’s just staked his claim on you stokes the fire inside you even more. You give him your own feral grin, and pull down the collar of his blacks as he stiffens. “Who am I to allow you to forget, then?”

You suck hard at the column of his throat, higher than he did on you, knowing it would still be covered. You taste the sweat that had been building up, and his skin which you can’t even describe except that it tastes like him.

He groans lowly into your ear and you shiver when you pull away. You drag your nail lightly over the dark bruise in satisfaction before pulling his collar back up.

You slide off his armored thighs slowly. He follows you to stand, and gives you one last, long, kiss.

“Until next time, cyare.”

When you leave his office, you wish you had written something more on his cup than a crudely drawn fox with a smiley face next to it. Tomorrow though, you wonder what you can get away with saying.

“Next time I’m wearing that little red dress, feel free to search me. Who knows what I could be hiding.”

#prior writes #star wars #swtcw #clone wars #the clone wars #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #afab!reader #coruscant guard #writing #fanfic

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