#i was listening to accidentally in love while coloring the lines on the lovers which sure was. a vibe LMAO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samingtonwilson · 3 years

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my little love

summary: there is a difference between hiding the grey of falling in love accidentally and shining in the brightness of choosing to grow in love purposefully-- so you’ll choose him as many times as you can.

pairing: bucky x reader

warnings: language, some angst, a lot of pining, very tiny sex mention. it’s me so there’s a lot of fluff and jokes.

a/n: no tag list because i couldn’t compile one lmao. this is just a former-fwb to friends to lovers fic that i started writing before wandavision or fatws came out so let’s pretend those shows don’t exist for the sake of this story! shout out to my best friend @allcaps1928 for the text “IDIOT!BUCKY RIGHTS” after she read this.

also yes i know what the adele song i took the title from is about but it’s also about feeling love in a time of loneliness.

The sip of coffee turns to ash on your tongue— acrid. Caustic when you swallow.

You smile, though. Bright, it convinces Bucky.

He grins around a sip of his latte. Cinnamon, brown sugar— something warm and sweet which sticks like glue to ribs gone brittle under decades of ice burn. His tongue sweeps over his lips, still smiling.

You could keep it up for that. Hide the grey and let your smiles radiate every color he needs.

Blue like ice when he’s on fire, green like sycamores when he needs to breathe. Something yellow to keep him warm, white to guide him home. Pink and red crêpe paper hearts, roses and boxes of chocolate— Valentine’s Day grins glowing with love.

There’s something purple about this one. Velvety and comforting. A promise in the curve of your lips, in the twinkle of sleepy eyes. Lavender aromatherapy turns to smoke when he looks away. Soot in your lungs, you cough.

It burns, doesn’t it? Singes your tongue with every breath? Maybe that’s why you can’t speak.

Maybe it’s why you haven’t spoken for weeks now, the extent of contact lying in a wave to say good morning across the line of treadmills and ellipticals, a nod to say good night as elevator doors slide shut.

He’d asked about it. Had the good manners to not blame you entirely with a soft concession that he hasn’t been around much lately anyway. Not good enough manners to leave you be as you’d gotten up to walk out of the conference room, though. Not good enough manners to just let some things go with a shrug— manners rotten enough to demand coffee in the name of playing catch-up.

The café is a familiar space.

It began as a place of refuge from missing the echo of Steve’s voice in the quiet halls of the Tower. A place so different from Tony’s labs where Peter and Morgan would spend hours tinkering with suits left behind for no one in particular while Pepper handled business. Somewhere you wouldn’t find Natasha’s hair ties or those pastel pink plates and mugs which she knew would be met with questions only to preemptively decree that she likes pink, okay? Sue me.

It hosted the two of you after a mission in Kolkata and withstood the degradation of its lukewarm, overly spiced chai in comparison to the sweet, piping hot doodh cha in clay cups you’d snuck out of the hotel for at four in the morning, sleepy Sam in tow. The mustachioed chaiwala had made no comment of your black eye, the bump on Sam’s forehead, and the limp in Bucky’s step and instead offered striped packets of Parle-G. The café walls didn’t hear the end of that for the hours the two of you spent huddled in the corner.

It kept the two of you cool in the summer of 2024 when a teenager in cork sole sandals and a light blue mesh top with cloud print told anyone who would listen— and yelled at those who would not— about how you are all so fucked, how climate change is gonna get us all because of the oil companies and the fucking government. You think the fires and disease are gonna stop? Get a goddamn clue, New York! You’d nodded along, applauded by snapping your fingers in agreement while Bucky glared down anyone who even contemplated opening their mouths in opposition.

It calmed the fire behind your ribs after nights— and sometimes afternoons— marked by urgency, a solution to loneliness and a-far-from-guaranteed tomorrow. Iced green tea with a squeeze of lemon and a brown sugar latte with a touch of cinnamon, a shared slice of apple crumble. Shyness in the colliding of your forks despite the bareness of only a small while before, unacknowledged and ignored intimacy beyond physical forcing your silverware apart. An echoing of the promise to maintain brick boundaries, words unsaid aching in the hand you want him to hold, the lips you wish he’d kiss outside the darkness of your bedroom.

It’s your space. Yours and Bucky’s. Holy perhaps to no one, but sacred to the two of you.

And it feels ruined now. Under snowfall and ash, frostbitten noses, your fingers burnt from desperately clutching the few remaining embers of wasted emotion, the café feels ruined. Your crumbling Parthenon.

He smiles at a tricolored corgi seated on the floor a few tables over. His question takes a sledgehammer to one of the remaining pillars, “Fuck the sneezing. I should get flowers anyway, right?”

“Flowers?” an attempt at a nonplussed expression, a casual sip of tea. You aren’t sure of your success.

“Yeah, my ma would make a big stink about it whenever I’d take a girl out.” His smile is fond, nostalgic. Only a little sad— he’s been working through it. “S’a li’l old-fashioned, I know. But it’s been three months. Feel like it’s the right time to get a little cheesy.”

You’d thought about calling it off. The bricks had fractured, grout eroded from love which burnt like acid.

But he’d beat you to the punch. Something about a third date. Something about going steady. Monogamy. He’d smiled, too, as if the words tasted like candy. Perfect white teeth bearing down on your heart as you could only grin along. Yellow with warmth even as you felt yourself freeze over.

Was it all his responsibility?

Or was it your palms, blistered and sore from pushing, pushing, pushing?

“Flowers are nice.” You draw the number 8 in your drink with a paper straw. “A little cheesy is nice.”

He returns your smile with one of his own, flicks a finger against your knuckle. “Tell me what’s goin’ on with you.”

You shrug. “Nothing to report.”

“Find that hard to believe. I can hear you an’ Sam getting back late at night, you know?” He taps the curve of his ear. “Super soldier hearing, remember?”

Eyes rolling, you skate a fingernail around the rim of your tall glass. “I’m coming back with Sam. What could I have to report if I’m coming back with Sam every night?”

“Fair enough,” he says after a moment of thought. There’s laughter in his voice, bright and happy, and, though you know he isn’t taunting you, there's the pang of an insult in your stomach. “Just thought something— someone— outside the Tower might be keeping you busy.”

It’d started on a Wednesday. Rainy and so windy you’d watched a woman lose her umbrella from your window and hissed sympathetically through your teeth. After one of those dinners Sam arranged on a night most of you were free, smiling over Doordashed gnocchi in an attempt to keep the few of you who were left together.

Wanda, green eyes dull and haunted, had spoken for the first time in ten days. Told Sam he should be proud she’d dragged a brush through her hair for him, stared at her plate with sight blurred by tears when he said he was.

Peter had dropped a can of soda and screamed at the burst, apologized with his hands over his ears.

Sam, for the first time since you’d known him, had looked defeated. Something so profoundly fractured deep within him rose to the surface. The shield comes with a lot, he’d once said after a mission went south. Just gotta find the right stance to balance it all.

During the mission he’d smiled, but that night over dinner you’d seen beneath it.

So, since that Wednesday night, you’ve taken up more missions. Carried more responsibility. Played Mother Goose to Wanda and Peter. Become Sam’s sounding board for strategy. A lap for him to lay his head in on nights in and a shoulder for him to lean against in cab rides after nights out.

If he needs reminders, you’ll paste Post-It note affirmations to his mirror. If he needs to forget, you’ll take him to his favorite bar and match him drink for drink.

He’s healed since that night. Found a stance which favors balance, set the fracture and let it mend under a cast wrapped in red, white, and blue.

Yet, because of the nights you drink more than he does and the nights you cry into a bowl of popcorn at movie scenes meant to bring warmth, he lets you imagine you’re stitching his heart together when your fingers really work to keep together the walls of your own.

You held his hand through it so he’ll hold yours. No matter whose benefit you think you’re doing it for.

“Work things,” is your explanation to Bucky. You smile then. “Saving the world is more time consuming than I thought it’d be.”

“S’a real shame they don’t cover that in orientation. I went into this thinkin’ it’d be a straight-forward nine to five.”

“Those ‘out of the office’ emails just don’t work the way they used to.” Before he can smile, you sit up straight with an apologetic frown. “So sorry.” You slow your speech, raise your volume, and make large gestures, “An email is electronic mail. It’s sent via this thing called the internet through, like, electronic devices—”

“Christ’s sake,” he laughs, loud and happy. Rolls brightened blue eyes. “You think you’re a real fuckin’ riot, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” you say through laughter of your own. “Why? You gonna tell me I’m not?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He sits back, grin firmly in place. “Who am I to tell you the sky ain’t blue?”

“Wow, don’t give out compliments too freely now. I might start to think you missed me.”

He hums out a sigh. There’s a gentleness despite the intensity in his stare. “You wouldn’t be wrong if you did.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I know,” he nods. He drains what remains in his cup and smacks his tongue against his lips. “Work things.”

An uneasy silence seems to set over the café. Something unsaid and ignored in the skepticism of his voice is a suffocating blanket spread over words which, free of context, are innocent enough. You think you could scream under the heavy blanket and go unheard, struggle with all of your strength and remain tangled. Fleece in your fists, fleece in your lungs, fleece between your teeth. It may be easier to lay there, may be more difficult to struggle.

It’ll all go unseen anyway.

An incoming notification brightens the screen of your phone.

Two hours have passed.

Two hours in asking if he should go with the grey button-down— it’s smart, brings my eyes out, too— or the black sweater— I like black, always have.

Two hours in wondering whether the restaurant Pepper suggested is a good option— Stark took her there n’ I’m no fuckin’ Stark; that Depression frugality stuck— before he settled on Sam’s suggestion— Wilson knows a good plate-a food, I’ll give his dumb ass that.

Two hours in thinking about some chocolate— hell, I could use some chocolate myself. Maybe flowers— is sneezing unattractive? Because roses fuck me up fast.

You sit in the ruins, temple pillars reduced to dust and rubble at your feet, and remind him, “You’re gonna be late.”

He shakes himself from the daze of expectation. “Right.” A drag of his hands down the lap of his jeans and he gestures vaguely toward the exit. “Come on—”

“Sam’s actually my ride. Pepper signed us up to build sets for Morgan’s play.” Setting your chin in your palm, you look up at him as he stands and smile. Shake the snow from weeping willow trees to make it reassuring. “Have a nice time tonight.”

It’s interesting to inspect the damage to the temple once he leaves. To see the debris of delicate stone deities and the spilled wax of burnt out candles. To hear the echoes of prayers once whispered and laughter once sung like hymns. To feel Earth stop its slow spin in mercy. And to be the only one to experience it.

The barista still places cardboard cups under the espresso machine, her manager coaches himself into presenting customers with rehearsed smiles. A family of three sits by the window, two smoothie glasses and three straws between them. A girl in a tennis skirt places a kiss on the pouted lips of a girl in tight black jeans, eyes wide and loving. Small temples of Pentelic marble. Complex, but sturdier. Foundations of intention, rather than accident. In their golden age while you sit, Athens fallen around you in a loss against Sparta.

Sam orders a three-shot oat milk latte, extra hot— to go, even though he moves to sit for a couple-a minutes. Murmurs something about having a long night ahead of him when he takes the seat Bucky had occupied. There’s concern in the deep brown of his eyes as he appraises you.

Frowning, he means to ask but twists his mouth in a grin instead when the café manager— rehearsed smile in place— sets a slice of reine de saba in front of him.

“On the house, Cap. I mean, Mr. America,” the manager, a tall short man with a mop of brown hair, pauses as he registers what he’s said. “Mr. Captain Wilson, sir.”

Sam has enough manners to only smile. You, however— forced to cover your lips with your hand to laugh quietly— seem to have forgotten the concept of manners.

“Thanks, man,” Sam says, digging a fork into the slice. “S’why we do what we do. The free cake.”

Sam wastes no time once the manager walks away. Scooping up what should be a decent mouthful of cake and slivered almonds, he asks, “Wanna tell me why you look like that?”

“Like what?” you take the fork he offers you and cut a small piece for yourself. Eyes narrowed, you drop the mere morsel and cut a bigger portion. “Keep in mind that I’ll suffocate you in your sleep if you say anything other than ‘ethereal’ or ‘radiant.’ I know where you live, Mr. Captain Wilson, sir.”

“I was gonna say ‘like shit,’” he tells you. He laughs when you hold your fork up to threaten a stabbing. “I’m sorry. Like radiant, ethereal shit.”

“Sleep with one eye open,” is your response, accompanied by a glare. To answer his question, though, “I didn’t get much rest last night.”

“Why’s that?” You shrug. “Those melatonin gummies are a damn lie. S’just shitty candy.”

He doesn’t buy it. Skeptically, “You sure?”

“Yeah, it just sticks in my teeth. And what kind of flavor is ‘midnight berry’ anyway?”

He says your name. In that low, sighed way. Pushes what remains of the gateau in your direction so he can focus more directly on his coffee. “If you’re—”

“I’m fine,” you say with a laugh. You poke at the cake. “Gonna try that Sleepytime tea nonsense tonight and if that doesn’t work, I’ll come to your room. One of those painfully boring stories of yours and I’ll be out like a light.”

“Boring, huh? I think you might be mistaking me for Barnes.”

“As if. Look how handsome you are,” you reach across the table and roughly pinch his cheek, grinning when he slaps your hand away. “Barnes doesn’t even compare.”

“Don’t think flattering me is gonna get me to stop worrying,” he warns. “I’m persistent.”

“I think what you mean to say is ‘a pain.’”

He rolls his eyes but otherwise drops it. The sip he takes of his latte is long and slurped, the sound drawing a laugh from you. “Tastes better that way.”

“Yeah? Does obnoxiousness bring out the notes of chicory?”

“Molasses, actually.”

A fond shake of your head and you rise when Sam does, waiting as he stuffs a small bundle of bills into the tip jar on the counter.

“Did you ever find out what play they’re putting on?” he asks when you walk ahead of him to the door. He reaches around you to pull it open, holding it as you pass through.

“Jack and the Beanstalk.”

He frowns in consideration as the two of you reach where his car is parked. “Do we know which character Morgan is playing?”

“Not yet. Auditions are tomorrow. She’s gunning for the bean saleswoman.”

“The what?”

“Bean saleswoman,” you repeat just a little louder, laughing when Sam exaggerates his confused expression further. “She’s the one who takes Jack’s cow and gives him magic beans.”

“I thought that was supposed to be a scary old man.”

“Morgan thought about all the characters and their motivations and decided she liked the bean seller’s motivation the most.”

“Which is what?”

“According to Morgan, ‘the bean seller has lots of beans and no cow. And she really wants a cow.’ Morgan likes cows.” Grinning when Sam snorts, you sit back against the plush passenger’s seat.

“Why isn’t Barnes helping?”

“He has a date tonight,” is your sighed reply. It earns you a brief look from Sam. “And with the way his relationship’s going, probably his wedding next week.”

“He’ll have to postpone holy matrimony.” Sam shrugs when you glance at him. “There’s a situation in Kyiv and I’m sending you two on Saturday.”

“You were sitting on that in the café?”

“The car’s a secure location, right?”

Shocked laughter is fractured by a nervous tremble. The world turns slowly once more. Your mouth opens, shuts, and opens again until you land on, “But the play—”

He offers you a strange look. “It’s only three days. You can build sets when you get back.”

Your movements feel slow, as if you’re moving through syrup. You feel each aching centimeter of your stomach falling, each flexing and stretching muscle when you nod. “Okay. What’s the situation?”

“Ukraine’s got parliamentary elections coming up. Prime Minister Shmyhal is worried about what the Svoboda and Batkivshchyna parties have planned.” He takes a slow sip of his coffee and puts the cup in the holder again. “There are rumors of a repeat of 2012 and 2013 when Svoboda and Batkivshchyna deputies accused MPs of voting for absent colleagues. It escalated to fist fights and xenophobic chants during a televised speech, and the Batkivshchyna stormed the podium in parliament to prevent swearing-ins. These guys have attacked members of the press, allegedly killed four national guardsmen, and constantly threaten violence if they don’t get their way. All the rumors are made worse by the new president dissolving parliament during his inauguration.”

“Can he do that?”

“Court said it was legal when the last guy did it and called for snap elections. The Svoboda hate this guy and the idea of losing whatever seats they managed to hold onto during the Blip. So it’s not a good scene.”

“And all of that is only gonna last three days?”

He shakes his head but keeps his eyes on the road. “Fury’s had his agents in place since the presidential election. They noticed Svoboda party members flyin’ in from Lviv and getting rooms near the Verkhovna Rada building two days ago. Timing’s off, need to do some recon to see what it’s about.”

“You can’t come with me instead?”

Another strange look. “Barnes can speak Ukrainian, spent a couple months there when he was on the run so he knows his way around. You gotta talk yourself into some places, blend in in others. You can’t do that with both of us knowing fuck all about the language.”

Sam watches as you attempt to burrow into the seat further, your arms crossing over your chest. “Fine.”

A brief pause, thick and lingering like smoke, floods the car until, “Is something goin’ on?”

“Huh?” You watch the light change from red to green. You ignore the burning feel of Sam’s stare. “No, not that I know of.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

You sit in the glow of five bright screens.

Eyes narrowed beneath a pair of thick glasses, your fingers are sticky with grains of sugar and citric acid. One leg rests on the dining table, one is bent with your knee at your chest. A tablet sits unsteady on your thigh, blueprints of the hotel suite and floor digitized with X’s marking the areas covered by a camera, their scope accounted for with dashed-line borders.

Bucky winks into the camera he’s set up. The leaves of a fern— which sits in a corner of the living room— cover part of his left eye, blur the cockiness of his expression. He grins when your scoff rings through the comms. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Buck.”

“Got a good view?”

“Wouldn’t know,” you reply, popping another Sour Patch Watermelon into your mouth. Bucky can hear the smile in your voice. “Your giant head’s in the way.”

“Oh, that’s the best view, honey.” Your poorly suppressed laughter receives a small smile in return, more to himself though it’s captured by the camera. “Can you see both couches?”

“Not really. Turn the pot about 30 degrees clockwise.”

“Come on, it’s been 15 minutes of turning the damn—”

“We can argue later. Agent H said their session wrapped as of four minutes ago and they’re heading back.”

Sighing, he crouches out of sight and the view shifts. You have a clearer view of the desktop— not clear enough, however. “S’better,” you say. “There’s a leaf in the way.”

Vibranium fingers struggle to tuck the leaf aside and a handful of too-long seconds pass this way. You watch as his frustration grows. Exasperation shines over his features until he rips the leaf from its branch, the force of which moves the camera a few inches. “Fuckin’ stupid—”

“If you’re done fighting a leaf, you just moved the camera.”

His eyes meet the lens. Pleading. You almost feel bad. “I can’t just stick this shit on a table?”

“This is a better vantage point. The tables are too close to the center of the room.” You glance at the other screens. “Okay, slide the pot two inches to the right.”

He crouches again. Once the view shifts very slightly, “That good?”

It’s fine. Yet, “Not really. Slide to the right.”

You hum when he complies. “Now slide to the left.” The plant is moved less than a few centimeters to the left, leaves rustling. “Take it back now, y’all.”

The plant is scooted barely half an inch back before Bucky stands and glares at the camera. The chill of ice is felt through the screen.

Nonetheless, “One hop this time.” A pause. “Right foot, let’s stomp.”

A roll of his eyes.

And he stomps his right foot.

“Left foot, let’s stomp.”

He stomps his left foot.

“Cha cha real smooth.” Drumming a beat against your thigh, you attempt to beatbox along with it, not deterred in the least that he is standing entirely still. “Turn it out.”

Bucky— long-suffering expression, long-suffering tone— asks, “Can you see the whole room?”

“Can you do the Cha Cha Slide?” When he only glares, you sigh. “It was fine before. Move it up half an inch and to the right half an inch, buzzkill.”

“Is that right? I’m a buzzkill?” He rights himself once the plant is in place. “Who was it that told Sam about my plan?”

“You wanted to tie these guys up in our room until the elections were done without evidence of wrongdoing. That’s kidnap.”

“It’s incapacitation, you li’l tattletail.”

“Incapacitation by kidnap.”

A dismissive wave of his hand. “Semantics. Besides, I wasn’t gonna charge ‘em ransom.”

“You don’t have to ask for ransom money for it to be a kidnap.”

“Yes, you do. Otherwise it’s just hangin’ out. And a spectacular waste of time.”

A less than attractive raspberry bubbles past your lips. “Your legal knowledge is changing my life, Bucky.”

“And it’s free of charge. You struck gold when you met me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Your phone buzzes with an incoming message from Agent H: Entered hotel lobby, heading toward elevators.

“They’re headed to the elevators.” You check each screen, note the perimeters. “The cameras are fine where they are. You should—”

The door to your room clicks shut.

Bucky— much too casually in your opinion— makes his way to you as he removes his gloves. He snorts at your gun still pointed in his direction, his jacket landing in a pile on the couch as you flip the safety back on.

He doesn’t notice your incredulous stare until he’s beside you, checking each camera angle for himself. He returns your stare with one of his own, brows lifted. “What?”

“What ‘what’? I could’ve shot you.”

You receive a skeptical look in return. “You aren’t rash enough.”

“You don’t even wait for my signal? You just stroll back?”

“You said they were headed to the elevators,” he shrugs. His hands are set on the table, one on either side of you, so he can stare at the monitors comfortably. The warmth rolling from his chest seems to thaw the tension in your shoulders. “Don’t worry. I checked if the hall was clear.”

“What if the camera angles were still off?”

“I prioritized not getting caught,” his voice is now an absentminded mumble, chin set on top of your head.

He slides the hotel service folder toward himself and flips through the laminated pages with vibranium fingers. There’s a faint scritch scratch of his stubble against your hair when he asks, “How do you feel about dessert for dinner? They’ve got medovyk.”

He pumps his eyebrows twice when you tilt your head back to look at him. He grins wide in an attempt at persuasion.

The person who boarded the Quinjet just two days ago was resolved to maintain a modicum of professionalism. A certain strength of boundary. That person sat far from the cockpit. Played music loud enough to ache the eardrums below shaking buds. Cracked open a book which had gone unread for eight long years.

It took one conversation for that person to vanish. Just a casual question about exfoliation and you set your book aside. After all, should one really break an eight year pattern?

You and Bucky fell into your usual rhythm over those two days. You shared looks across Verkhovna Rada chambers when you posed as security guards. You hid your laughter behind cups of coffee as you met with Agent H and Agent L for morning briefings. You took half of his deruny at dinner and he took half of your varenyky. No pillow border divided you at night, nothing to stop your toes from burying themselves in the warmth of his legs or his nose from nudging your forehead.

You wave a dismissive hand and use the tablet to disable the looped footage you’d sent to the hallway security camera feeds. Both of your legs now rest on the table, crossed at the ankle. “Order what you want. I’m not too hungry.”

He straightens and shakes his head in disappointment. “How can you be when you fill up on junk?”

He scoops a handful of tiny sugar-coated watermelon slices from the bag of candy and tosses it all into his mouth. He wags his finger in your face as he chews, nearly striking your nose. “Shit’s awful. You’re gonna pass out one day from malnutrition.”

You hum and watch as he takes another handful. Your lips curl in playful anger. “Yeah, maybe I’ll adopt your diet. What’s it called? The ‘everything in sight’ diet?”

“Are you saying I eat a lot? That’s rude, sweetheart, and I’m sensitive.”

He rolls his eyes at the pout of sympathy you offer him while you set your hand under his chin, guiding his head to the left, then the right. Eyes narrowed, you inspect his features and place your fingers against his pulse point, concluding seconds later with, “You’ll live.”

His sole response when you laugh and sit back, thoroughly satisfied with yourself, is a sarcastic smile.

A sarcastic smile which shifts seconds later into something genuine. Something soft.

Two days of stepping in that old rhythm and Bucky’s taken a dive into familiarity. Headfirst. Nothing graceful, not at all coordinated. He’s sure he’s going to bash his head against concrete soon enough, yet he kicks and kicks hoping it’ll get him there sooner.

It’s sadistic, isn’t it?

Craving the pain of it. The crimson blood stains going brown against the sidewalk. Everything inside of him— all the sadness, the devotion, the love— spilled at your feet only to be scrubbed away moments later so your steps aren’t given a chance to falter. He’s prepared an apology for the marks on your shoes, for the heart your heel goes right through.

It may be for the feel of the fall. The floating when his legs ache from kicking, the soaring when he spreads heavy arms. A smile and wordless conversations over morning coffee, a laugh if he’s lucky. He would spill his blood all over the pavement, let you tear his heart to shreds under your soles, for that.

“You got time for the café when we get back?”

“You’ll have to ask Morgan.” Your voice comes muffled, head in the minifridge in the search for a cold bottle of water. Bucky has a plain look over his face once you stand. “She’s in charge of scheduling for the play staff and has taken all of my free time. If I want time off, I have to file a request at least 48-hours in advance. She has forms and everything.”

“Christ, is this a Broadway production? Is she in charge of that fuckin’ John Adams show?”

Water bottle at your lips, you pause. “Do you mean Hamilton?”

“I guess,” he shrugs.

“No,” you snort, “but she’s taking her job very seriously.”

“Play hooky,” is his simple suggestion. He pushes the menu aside, determined to order all three entrées he finds appealing. He then attempts to level you with a wide-eyed look. “C’mon. It’s a post-mission tradition.”

A frown pulls at the corners of your lips. “I made a promise. Besides, don’t you have to go see a certain someone when we get back?”

He scoffs away the playful lilt of your voice. “I’d still make time for you.”

You smile. Warm as the sun. You watch him melt in it. “Well, that’s sweet but I’m sure she wants all the time with you she can get. I’ll make you a latte with brown sugar for the debrief with Sam, though. I’ll even write ‘Bunky’ on it and it’ll be like we’re right there in the café.”

His own smile is brief. “S’not just about the latte, you know?”

If you tell him the temple has been leveled under ash and snow, that all the candles have been extinguished and all the hymns have come to an end. If you tell him deities you’d sculpted from delicate clays and sands have fallen to dust, if you tell him the sight of the ruins breaks your heart all over again, would he hear you?

Has he seen it?

Has he felt the universe pause in mercy?

He stands on a foundation of intent now. Not like the foundation the two of you built in search of something else. Can he feel the difference?

“I know.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

“You wanna hear my Cab Calloway impression?”

Passing him the plain black duffle you’ve spent nights begging him to replace, you receive a sideway glance from Bucky. It lingers for a beat too long, even as you avert your gaze to the tear running parallel to the struggling zipper. “You have a Cab Calloway impression?”

“Locked and fucking loaded.” You’re emptying your weapons locker into your own bag intending to clean the guns later, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “You know the Betty Boop version of Snow-White? From 1933?”

You start humming St. James Infirmary Blues in an attempt to jog his memory, giving him your bag, too. You gesture with your hands, widen your eyes as you walk down the jet’s ramp to the helipad. “You know?”

Bucky stops even as he’s several steps behind you, stopping you as well with a simple, “I’m sorry.”

You turn to see him staring confusedly, brow furrowed at you. “How the fuck do you— Are you older than what you’ve been letting on? Because if you’re from the fucking thirties or forties, too, —”

“No,” you say once you’ve laughed sarcastically. “Turns out some of the nonsense from those racist, anti-Semetic, awful times manages to be great now, too. Some of the music, some of the movies, —”

“Some of the people,” his smile growing as his voice trails off.

You tilt your head. Features twisted in question, you blink. “What people?”

You can’t help your laughter when his teasing stare slowly fades into a glower. “Like Cab Calloway, you mean? Yeah, he’s still cool.”

His sigh is heavy, lips struggling against another smile.

“Do you mean Steve?” you ask, voice higher pitched as it pinches in withheld giggles. “Miss that guy.”

A step in your direction. “No, I don’t mean Steve.”

“One of the other Commandos then?” you punctuate your question with a wink, a nod in sly understanding. But his budding grin falls as soon as you say, “That Gabe Jones? He was hot. Drew hearts all over his picture in my history textbook and everything.”

Your laughter grows louder as he walks right up to you, a dark look in the grey-blue of his eyes. “You’re such a fuckin’ little punk, I swear to—”

His name is hollered behind you. Voice higher than yours, lighter than yours. There’s an effortless joy to the way she says his name, to the way she races up the ramp to meet him halfway. She stands a few inches shorter than you do, but her smile stretches miles wider. She’s uncorrupted and bright, stares up at him with an unrivaled openness. Just like he deserves.

You don’t notice the way he continues to watch you, don’t notice the halfheartedness in the hug he barely manages to return.

But you smile at her when her eyes find you. She’d hesitated looking away from him. Didn’t want to tear her eyes away for even a second. It’s sweet as honey, and you hate her for it. “It’s good to see you.”

She says something back— something kind— and Sam approaches the three of you only to throw an arm around your shoulders, but Bucky’s only focused on your outstretched hand. Your eyebrows lifting when he only gapes back. “I can take my bag. You two probably wanna catch up.”

“No,” Bucky answers even as you manage to wrestle the bag away. He notes the narrowed look being sent to him from his left, but keeps his attention on you and Sam. “No, we have to debrief and—”

“I can handle it.” The reassurance he finds in your smile feels like a cold breath to aching lungs. A forest the morning after rainfall. It shifts to something tighter when your eyes lower to his left. “Have a nice night, you two.”

Sam and Bucky nod at one another as the latter passes. Soft fingers thread through those of vibranium, and their departing steps come with the low hum of hushed conversation. Bucky’s eyes meet yours before the elevator doors shut and cut the thread between you, and you exhale a burning breath from your tight posture and slump onto Sam’s shoulder.

Knowing, he asks, “Have a good mission?”

“Incredible,” your gaze is still fixed on the elevator, voice strained. Sam notices. He’s always noticed.

“In love with Bucky?”

You nod and meet his eyes. Deep brown— coffee-hued, coffee-warm. “Yeah.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

You used to find an empty gym blissful. A quiet space in a Tower that always bustled enough with laughter, and arguments, and life to echo in memoriam for months.

Those echoes began to linger like ghosts. Waiting for you behind every corner, refusing to be drowned out by the hum of a treadmill or the smack of a fist against a punching bag. So you played your music as loud as you could, you laughed at Sam’s jokes with all the joy in your body. Pulling it from your limbs, your fingertips, your toes.

In the morning it was as if you could see them in thick rays of carmine yellow when the sun shone in through the long wall of windows. And at night they rode along the sparkle of city lights. Often you asked FRIDAY to roll down the panels of blinds Tony never expected anyone to actually use, often you asked the AI to keep the overhead lights as bright as they could go. Hiding from shadows, from the sun like the moon and from the moon like the sun.

But you refuse to hide now. You refuse to muffle the echoes that sound like home. The sun shines on your back, your shadow dances against the wall.

Your heart aches in your chest, but it beats. Full and rhythmic.

“Haven’t heard from Peter in a while.”

Sam is sent a few centimeters back with the strength of your punch against the bag, shoes sliding over the smooth floor. He braces the bag tighter. “I know. It’s great.”

You level him with a plain look, lowering tired arms. “Sam.”

“Keep going,” he says. He waits until you assume your stance again to continue, “Happy’s keepin’ track of him.”

“Is anyone looking out for Wanda?” The angle of the next punch you throw is off, an ache splintering along your wrist. “She hasn’t called me back in a while.”

“She’s—” he sighs, allows you to relax for a minute when he lets go of the bag. “She’s hard to find if she doesn’t want to be found.”

You catch the roll of tape Sam tosses you, unraveling the mess around your knuckles. It’s an easy task, sweat wetting it loose. “So it’s just us three on the roster?”

“For most jobs.”

“Which means, hypothetically,” you begin— slow and easy, “if I said I was benching myself for a little while— that’d be a pretty big problem, huh?”

You meet gentle eyes when you look up. Watch him smile something adoring. “I don't know how long I’ve been asking you to take a break and now that you finally wanna take one— Ain’t a problem at all.”

“You sure?”

“Barnes and I can handle the field.” He catches the tape you throw to him easily. “Did you attain enlightenment overnight?”

“In some ways,” you laugh. Shaking out your shoulders, you find your stance. “I’ve wanted to take a break for a while now. Since Berlin, maybe. I just kept waiting for the world to calm down enough or for something to force me into it. But then we got snapped away and— I need to do the things I want. Wanting them is a good enough reason to.”

“The world’s never going to calm down.”

“It can’t. And trying to make myself less of a person won’t ease the pain of that. I need to heal, which I can’t do if I keep acting like I’m not hurt.”

Sam stares at you silently for several moments. “Should we start paying your therapist more?”

Snorting, you throw a hard enough punch to force him into a stumble. “Make the check out to yourself. Your little support group’s been helping.”

“I’ve never seen you at—“

His mouth screws shut when you smile at him. “Baby, I’m a spy. You only ever see me when I want you to see me.”

“You creepy shit.”

You drop your stance to laugh, hands on your knees before you take a short leap and flick your fingers against Sam’s forehead. Screaming when he springs into action, you spin around immediately and run across the gym as fast as your feet can take you. Your words and laughter jumble together, “You called me creepy!”

“You fuckin’ are!” he shouts back, chuckling, too.

You face him once you’ve rounded the long line of treadmills, shifting from side to side just as Sam is. There’s a teasing glint in the brown of his eyes, his usual warmth omnipresent as the machines divide you. “Still shouldn’t say it! I don’t point out how— how—“

“How what?” he asks. He’s grinning as he takes off in the direction you decide on. “Can’t find jack shit to say. S’what happens when you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

“If you’re perfect,” you start, coming to a slow stop when Sam is only a few feet from catching you, “then I really did attain all enlightenment last night and am now Buddha.”

You emphasize your point by placing your hands in abhayamudrā and shutting your eyes for less than a second. You open them in time to see him lunge for you and are only able to whirl around before he wraps a strong arm around your waist to lift you from the ground. Your gasp easily fades into a laughing scream, breath knocked from you.

“Is this kinda workout not available for anyone else, Sam?”

Sam sets you down, still chuckling as the door comes to a slow close behind Bucky. “I’d throw my fuckin’ back out trying to pick you up.”

Bucky, short hair damp from a long run, snorts but nods a moment later. “Yeah, fair enough. Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Buck,” is your grinned response. It glows in pink and red, loving and bright. He can almost taste chalky heart-shaped candy.

“Haven’t seen you since Kyiv.”

Sam leaves the two of you to gather his water bottle, phone, and headphones from the bench closest to your punching bag and you shrug, smiling at Sam when he nods, supportive. “Yeah, I’ve—“

“Been busy?” Bucky guesses. He lets his eyes run along your profile. The slope of your nose, the length of your eyelashes. The smile still comfortably on your lips, reaching the subtly creased corners of your eyes.

You shake your head and meet the curious blue watching you. “Not really. I’ve been around. Doing paperwork, training, —“

“Being creepy as hell,” Sam interjects, passing you to the door. His eyes are narrowed.

“Building sets,” you amend to Bucky. Door shutting behind Sam, you call, “I’ll see you in your dreams tonight, Sam. There’s no hiding.”

You can hear his laughter even as he walks down the hall, smiling to yourself at the sound.

“What’s that about?”

“Apparently hiding in the shadows during his support group meetings is frowned upon,” you snort. “Go figure.”

“He just doesn’t know how to take a compliment.”

Sighing, you nod. “You always get me.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his chuckles, his small grin.

Going to Kyiv felt like coming home.

Riding alongside Bucky in the Quinjet, laughing and holding his stare a little too long, felt like home.

Seeing him now, smiling at you with that same playfulness in his eyes and comfort easing his posture, feels like home.

“Bucky.”

A home with a foundation you can strengthen by acting purposefully. Intending to choose Bucky and doing so over and over.

He nods. He’s rolling tape onto his knuckles, placing his phone on the bench as you sit. “Hm?”

You pick at the tape around your own hand, peeling it slowly. “I kinda— I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

It’s silent for a few beats. Long enough that he looks over his shoulder, eyes kind and questioning, before he turns to face you completely. He smiles and whatever bricks remain of that terrible wall your heart had spent months clawing at crumble away.

He’s so handsome. So sweet, so kind, so understanding—

“What’s—”

It pours from your mouth on the notes of a quick exhale, “I love you.”

His smile falls and that little wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens.

“I’m in love with you. And I know you’re— That you have someone and I think she’s great. I’m really so happy for you.” You hope your smile is as green as you intend for it to be. “And I don’t want to blow it up by saying something I probably have no right to say but— I've been losing my mind holding this in. I need to do right by myself and by you and finally be honest.”

He’s still silent, still staring. He looks like he’s expecting you to say more. Unmoving, unsure.

You stand, thick band of orange tape hanging off your palm. “That’s all.”

“I don’t—“ his voice stutters as miserably as the heart in his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything.” You jab your thumb in the direction of the door. “Morgan’s got me on a tight schedule so— So I’m gonna go.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Bucky’s pacing. Cockpit to his locker, his locker to the cockpit. His boots barely make a sound, steps so light Sam is scared out of his mind every time he hears a heavy sigh just inches away.

It’s been days of this. Watching Bucky pace, hearing him sigh like the weight of the world is compressing his lungs. He’s lost several slices of pizza to Bucky’s insistence that he’s not hungry only to practically inhale everything Sam’s ordered for himself. He’s lost hours of sleep to knocks on his door at three AM, because Bucky needs to ask about the plan again.

What’s the strategy? Who’s rescuing the hostages? How much are they willing to negotiate? Are they willing to negotiate at all? Is it true a cat took Fury’s eye?

Frankly, Sam’s had enough.

But he’s resolved to not interfere. It’s not his business.

But it’s been three fucking days. “If you sigh one more fucking time, Barnes, —”

“Sorry.” Nonetheless, Bucky sighs again. Falls into the co-pilot’s seat, leg bouncing and thumbs twiddling. “Sorry. I wasn’t— I thought we had another two days before coming back. It’s throwin’ me off.”

“Thought it was a good thing to wrap shit up early,” Sam mumbles. His gaze remains focused beyond the windshield. “Get a nice break. I can make it to Morgan’s play, you can see your girl. Maybe take a fuckin’ nap.”

“We—” another sigh. Sam might put his foot through the jet’s damn wall if this keeps going. “I ended that. I couldn’t pretend to be available to her when— when—”

“When the girl you love said she loves you.”

Humorless chuckle, and he shakes his head once. He should’ve known you’d tell Sam. “Well, yeah. But I ended it the night we got back from Kyiv.”

The way Bucky says your name— like something so soft and precious, almost intimate— makes Sam think it’s wrong for him to even hear. “It felt too good to be around her again, felt like I was cheating. And that day in the gym, when she said she— I didn’t know what to say.”

“I don’t think she expected you to say anything.”

“Sam, she ran off last time. When shit started to get real, she pushed me as far away as she could and ran off.”

“I can’t promise you anything. But the change I’ve seen in that girl,” he shakes his head. So much for none of his business. “She’s takin’ a break from work, letting herself be a person. She lights up at someone even mentioning you and brings you up whenever she can. She’s different now and wouldn’t have told you what she did if she was plannin’ on running off.”

Bucky’s leg stops bouncing, but his thumbs still knot together. The vibranium plates of his left palm pinch his delicate skin. Voice rough as gravel, “Still fuckin’ scary.”

“Yeah. Shit works out sometimes, though.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

“You know, there’s no shame in saying ‘no.’”

“Yeah? Did that get you here?”

You look up from the student in the seat placed before yours and meet Pepper’s gaze. Her eyes sparkle in humor, her smile poorly hidden. She nods toward your hand, covered in stray flecks of face paint and makeup, and then at the sponge you’re using to spread white paint.

“I don’t count,” you press. You get back to work, holding Keith’s face in one hand to get the white paint as close to his ear as possible. “I’m not her mom. And I like doing makeup. Especially Keith’s.”

Keith grins at you, chubby cheeks blown wide when you wrinkle your nose at him. Dipping a thin brush into a pot of black paint, you nod at him. “Okay, no more smiling. Your spots will look weird if you do.”

He nods back and immediately drops his smile, letting loose a single giggle at his own abruptness. He peeks at you with a teasing green eye and looks away as soon as you gasp.

You smile to yourself as you outline a series of black spots. One or two on each cheek, one around his right eye. “You can’t let Morgan throw an after party. She’s a kindergartener. You can’t start letting them throw after parties until, like, third grade. Gotta set boundaries.”

“And you know this from all the kids you’ve parented.”

“I don’t have kids,” you reply, tongue poking through your lips in concentration as you fill the spots using a new sponge. “None that I know of, at least. I’m just a genius. Keith, I need you to hold still if you want to be the cutest little cow this school has ever seen.”

He stops wiggling and Pepper snorts. “He looks like a dalmatian.”

“A cute dalmatian.” Once the spots are filled, you paint on a small pink nose and allow him to place the headband with floppy cow ears into his chestnut hair. “Those beans better be worth their weight in gold.”

He straightens the white and black crewneck sweatshirt he wears and turns to the mirror, grinning at his reflection and bursting into laughter. “I’m a cow!”

“You are!” you cheer back, laughing with Pepper when he moo’s as loud as he can. He hops out of the chair and onto his feet. “Be careful, you’re not fully dry yet! How much you wanna bet he’s gonna fuck up his makeup before the show can even start?”

“I’ll put more on you getting caught cursing before the show can start,” Pepper says with a roll of her eyes. She sits in the seat Keith had occupied, the wood creaking under an adult’s weight, as she helps you clean the sponges and brushes. “I know Morgan hasn’t said it yet— she was planning on making a speech at her after party— but we appreciate how much you’ve been helping.”

“It’s no big deal.” You look to the mirror and take a cleansing wipe to the streak of white on your forehead. “I’m trying to take a break from avenging and haven’t really found other things to do yet. This was a nice way to get out of the Tower.”

Pepper hums. “Morgan’s got a whole thing about how her favorite Auntie Avenger saves the day and the show.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Maybe you should let her have this party.”

She barks a sarcastic laugh and stands when she hears a shrill “Mom!” shouted across the backstage area. “Try to hold the ‘fucks’ in.”

“No promises!”

One more swipe across your forehead to fully clear it of white paint, and you sigh to yourself at the creaking of the chair. “In those five seconds, I managed to hold the fucks in—”

Blue eyes— so soft, so gentle and kind— watch you expectantly. He waits for you to focus on him, pays little attention to the relaxing of your grip and the package of wipes which falls to the floor as a result. A small smile, one he can’t help, begins to pull at his lips. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Buck.” The silence which settles over the two of you is comfortable, broken when you reach to pick up a brush. “Did you need your makeup done?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, backstage is cast and crew only,” you pout playfully and grin when his shoulders shake in a silent chuckle.

“I guess I don’t have long to say this.”

He sits up straighter, drags his hands— metal and flesh alike— down the lap of his dark jeans. He rehearsed what to say on the drive over, asked Sam if what he wanted to say was too blunt. Asked if he should add a preamble of some kind, maybe a disclaimer that he hasn’t had a grip on his mind or heart for months.

He can’t remember any of it now that you stare at him from that canvas and wooden chair, blinking owlishly and looking at him with so much love it steals the breath right from his lungs.

“I— I forgot everything I wanted to say.”

“That’s okay. Take your time.” You lean in and he feels himself pitch toward you as well. At your smile he feels the softness of velvet, the comfort of lavender. “If anyone tries to kick you out, I’ll fight ‘em. I’ll fight a kindergartener.”

He laughs, loud and bright. “Fight a kid, huh? You must really love me.”

He watches you sober, he watches you choose him.

Your grin shrinks to something pink and you take as deep a breath as you can. You nod. “Yeah, Bucky, I do.”

He hums, he chooses you, too. “So do I.”

“What?”

“I love you. And I’ve wanted to tell you everyday since you took me to that café.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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matchamorphosis · 4 years

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1-800-𝓘-𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔-𝓤

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 || waiting for you and your beau’s dinner reservation later on tonight you and he spend valentines day together through the devotion of your dial rotary telephone

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 || fluffy smut

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 || steve rogers × [black//woc]!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 || 4.6K

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 || 18+ nsfw, introduction to phone sex but i don’t go any bit further, body worship, captain kink, one bibical mention, reader gets spoiled to the t!, but still this is not suitable for anyone that isn’t 18+

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 || move over darling by doris day ♡ all of me by billie holiday ♡ unforgettable by nat king cole ♡ dream a little dream of me by ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong

𝔀. 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 || this is my gift for the divine @denisemarieangelina! for @chrissquares + @drabblewithfrannybarnes + @amythedvdhoarder Hoelentine’s Day Challenge! ♡ i’m very anxious to share this because i did this simpler version of writing then what i’m usually used to but I hope you enjoy this lovely and happy valentines day! muah! ♡ please tell me if you don’t like this because i can always add onto this if you want more! ♡ anyways i hope you cherubs enjoy this to! ♡♡♡

BABY PINK ENVELOPES FILL THE SPACE IN YOUR HANDS

humming along to the musing record that spins on the turntable the kitchen is alive with the sentimental lyrics of Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday you sway your leg over your knee as you read the bush colored letters. the quaint apartment complex fills with blissful warmth, for the maiden in the kitchen enjoys her breakfast yearning for her partner to return as quickly as he promised. analyzing the intricate curves and dips of Steven’s handwriting, it pulls you into a hypnotizing trance as your mind fills with nothing but his deep voice as you read along.

cordial elements wrapping the visible areas of skin your Valentine’s sweethearts button down doesn’t cover. it is a relaying fact that the crisp expansive piece makes your body seem petite but because of its obscene size the fabric falls past your shoulders in a graceful fashion. clumsily buttoning up the blazer wrongly that early morning, it only adds onto the carefree nature that exhibits and adds onto your soft sways and musical hums.

reaching for your steaming pink mug of milk chocolate cappuccino that lays near more open letters and more envelopes free from their wax sealings. you plan on opening all of them throughout the day, holding onto the handle you bring it up to your soft lips. attentive fingertips trace the cursive black ink of Steven’s handwriting in a lovesick gaze. the accidental ink splotches and small charcoal sketches of floral anatomy make the pace of your heart slow in a tender beat.

despite your devoted attention being on your beau’s love letters there are other envelopes that aren’t just from your Steven. although to make it easier to recognize the difference between the uninterested letter from past lovers and secret admirers Stevens envelopes are printed in your favorite shade of pink.

these darling letters that Steven is now confident to share with you are filled with small poems. being terrified of gifting you in the early phases of your relationship, your holding the multiple pages amongst pages of dazing sketches of your bodies beautiful features. paragraphs that outline his love letters to you which he kept hidden in a journal. reading and daydreaming as you take in each poetic sentence of your beau explain and sharing each love struck moment of his days that he adored spending with you.

the timeline of these letters go back from days, to weeks to whole years. it astounds you how you’ve never caught Steven in the act of writing poetry or making a love entrée yet you aren’t at all complaining. however the envelopes were a surprise to come across to when you looked over the mail. they weren’t in your daily sack delivered by the porter but laying in a huge pile on your kitchen island before he left that morning.

they went handsomely with his gifted bouquet of your favorite flowers that decorated each room of your apartment. a bud of them you found laying amongst the colorfully cream colored candles is now in your hair tucked behind your ear. Steven’s handwriting displayed on the front-

for my darling

they were just waiting for you to read and so here you are soaking in each vow hidden in his whimsical sonnets and ballads.

smelling both the sweet nectar of the flower and the divine cocoa of your cappuccino you continue reading from his letters. mirthful eyes dashing along each word of the little poem he wrote for you, the gleaming smile that frames your face doesn’t settle down one bit as you read and sing them not louder than a breathy whisper. giggling aloud and kicking your bare feet in the air when you read Steven’s beautifully crafted poetry centered and dedicated to you and only you.

the letters seem to distract you from the vast amounts of gifts, arranging from exquisitely wrapped small boxes to large gift bags bearing designer brands. Steven sent each gift along with the blush colored letters but they lie unattentively under your pedicured feet that bounce along with the turntable. singing along Billie Holidays lyrics of April in Paris as you continue to read and sip from your chocolatey cappuccino. the letters themselves are elegantly scattered onto the marble island where you bite into one of the buttery croissants that are bunched in a wooden basket you have prepared since the morning.

of course you weren’t supposed to eat alone, by all means this day of domestic and fairytale romance wasn’t suited to be spent alone. it of course isn’t suited for you in the slightest, not like you to bear this inconvenience.

in front of you -well behind the sketches your dreamily admiring- rests a large breakfast consisting of baked sweet and savory pastries, sunny yellow omelets and fresh ripe fruit. the early meal was suppose to be a little feast for both you and the public hero but of course your heroic beau had his urgent errands to run. a phone call rudely interrupted the session of your passionate lips and tongues destine to spiral you both on the cloud of desire.

the ringtone acting as nothing but an irritating background noise, it cause the blond to pull away to deal with it. walking away from you and out of your private bathroom suite and as obvious as this is going to sound- Steven didn’t decline the call. from your position as you sat on the marble and gold flecked kitchen sink, your hand rests on the golden swan at the faucet.

listening as you heard him hum along to whatever the dispatcher had to say before hanging up and heard his footsteps coming closer and there you say your lover. smiling to him as you pulled him towards you, lips gracing his he cut the devastating news to you of his unplanned errands. apologizing to you with a kiss but ending it with a promise for an intimate dinner reservation he did plan beforehand.

then with a change of clothes, he was out the door but you willed yourself to not be upset at him. your Steven always kept his promises and you were still swooning over the lovely events that happened last night that still show the results of it all on your skin and a delicious soreness in between your legs. ending passionately in wine soaking your thoughts and actions you both headed to your apartment and tangled in your sheets. you now are wearing his button up he wore to the dinner reservation that night, slightly wrinkled yet smelling of Stevens entrancing cologne.

it brings you back to that night and you could still feel the searing butterfly traces of his lips along your collarbones, neck and breasts. dainty and vivid as the white sunshine that streams through the high white apertures of your apartment.

it’s all beautifully cinematic

the music playing on the record as you enjoy your breakfast while reading your lovers letters to you. chocolate spread used to smear over the flaky pastry in your hand smears the corners of your lips and you wish Steven is here to thumb it away. a sorrow filled sigh break through your lips, knowing these letters are all you have of him at the moment as he’s out busy at Stark Tower doing only god knows what and bumping heads with only god knows who. silence only greets those thoughts and you realize that the collection of records playing your favorite romance artists have stopped sounding out their hearty tunes.

frowning, you get up and replay the record before returning back to the kitchen and to your seat. hands go back to the letters and your heart warms up in a matter of blissful seconds, cheery contentment dawning your face in delightful charm. although a question still dances along the crowded ballroom of your mind-

whatever will you do with the time you have alone on Valentine’s Day awaiting for your beau?

it is only eight in the morning, Stevens plans are set around nine tonight and you could do so much more than just doll yourself up. finishing your lavish breakfast you begin tidying up once you place another record on the sitting room turntable. the music flowing throughout the large and finely furnished apartment, it creates a heavenly picturesque glow that brightens the golden framed paintings and renaissance clawfoot furniture.

you feel like an old Hollywood actress staring in her romantic comedy, it makes you nothing but languorous glee. the beauty of your vivid imagination pulling your typewritten script and setting your scenes to hear the director yell action! manifesting the movie with each pirouetting step, you feel the timeless sensation of Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor gracing down on from the heavens.

singing along with the records, recited movie lines from Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Rear Window. romantically immortal films consisting of elegant tailored outfits of Chanel and Moschino that the leading actress would flirt with her on screen partner, long and lust filled stares between your lover and the epitome of transatlantic accents that would make an European swoon.

the craftsmanship of your fantasy aiding you by hiding away any untouched breakfast foods, biting into a jam filled puff pastry you keep the sweet confectionery in between your teeth as you organize Steven’s letters. filing them from the ones you have read, that you carefully fold back into their envelops- to the ones you plan on reading later. clearing them away safely on an ivory tabletom dancing along with the beat of the record.

pulling yourself back into the visionary scene of your beloved vintage films, a baby blue Dior headband frames your heads crown and keeps your untamed bed hair away from your temple as you start a kettle of tea. retrieving your personally cherished china set from your glassy cupboards, soaking your desired teabags, home grown herbs and honey dewdrops into the separate porcelain teapot. turning the nob on the stovetop off once the screeching kettle ready with boiling water becomes louder than the music, it quietly dies down and you hum as you place the boiling water into the small porcelain teapot.

steam erupting, its soothing when the scorching water drenches in the tea ingredients that begin to linger a sweet smelling scent. peachy cheeks soft and dewy as the sweet sunshine bounces off them, you carefully unfold each divinely wrapped box covered with glossy ribbons and confetti gift bag covered in strawberry scented tissue paper. blowing and sipping from your tea cup, you tenderly bundle Stevens button up around you as you examine his gift.

each eye grabbing and more expansive with each one passing you look over the heavy offering of baby pink and cream tulle trimmed Agent Provocateur lingerie. the occasion of lacey babydolls and pink fury teddys holding cupid hearts coming once with every three bags you also discover the silver Tiffany charms in powdered pistachio blue boxes. pastel pink heart-shaped pastel boxes of Chardonnet et Walker pink marc de champagne truffles make your mouth tingle.

mink coats and cashmere sweaters dedicated to wrap you nice and warm in the snowy weather. a starlight smile shines at the fact of Steven remembering you looking through a few catalogues days after New Years. princess cut Dior earrings that shine like dangling stars and heart-shaped Prada handbags that would make any winged cherub strike their golden arrows into.

Steven always went above and beyond with your Valentine gifts and you weren’t even halfway done with opening the boxes and bags but seemed fit to prepare yourself for the day ahead of you.

curves swaying along with Louis Armstrong's flaunting trumpet and Ella Fitzgerald's sweetly divine vocals once you get from your criss-crossed position on the floor. passing the wrapping paper and ribbon bows scattered in a sprawled lovecore mess, you make your way to your bedroom. bare feet adding against the carpet, passing golden framed body length mirrors and vase upon vase of flowers and burning candles. a silver tray bearing the porcelain petunia painted tea kettle, china tea cup and Stevens letters in your hands.

entering your open bedroom filled with crisp sunshine, your eyes dash over to your mess of a bed. white sheets that once held two giggling and kissing lovers is now empty with the exception of your pet laying lazily on the wrinkled plush comforter. blowing a kiss to the sleeping fluffy beauty before opening the molded white door to your private suite.

dancing along the white marble of the floor you run your bathtub full of hot water. taking your time preparing your dress and the lingerie you’ll wear tonight, it wasn’t exactly easy. Steven took a great joy in gifting you all the luxuries of jewelery, lingerie and clothing you desired, took great joy in fucking you in them as well. but as you enter the bathroom and exit to go through your wardrobe in your closets you go through boxes upon boxes of lingerie.

rummaging the organized baby pink boxes that you took hours organizing, you did realize that some bralettes were missing their panties yet you remember your gentlemen liked keeping a pair or two in his office when he’s away. you settle with not wearing anything Steven bought you but what you ordered on a website that caught your attention, more so intrigued of the fabulous singer and actress who ran the brand.

the divine deep red Valentines Day pieces of Fenty Lingerie were expansive but so was your credit card as you ordered the whole collection. hiding the box away from Steven and his too curious grasps you now reveal the box and open it. taking out the desired heart bralettes and Gartier belted thigh highs that went along with the lewd sheer panties you let out a delightful squeal at the thought of Steven ripping off your silk slip dress to reveal this sinful number.

sipping from your tea, you go through your jewelry boxes settled on seashell chests on your vanity. retrieving your dearest diamond accessories to go along with the slip dress you head back to the bathroom. the water rising to your favorable height you fill the marble crest with rose petals, rose oils, rose water and rose bubble bath. of course, with Steven’s relentless showing of gifts there were enough Italian imported red wines for you to bathe in but you settled for your rose bath set that was tucked in the corners of your towel closet.

burning Diptyque candles around the tub, you settle your delicate cup down on the tray. departing from your beaus button down, you sink your feet and body into the floral water glowing in pearly bubbles smelling just the tint of sea salt. dissolving your thoughts and worries in the soft pink-hued mist your hands reach for Steven’s letters. carefully undoing the crimson wax seal your fingers grasp the letter and polaroid photographs it holds.

giggling when you read that this specific letter is about you and Stevens first time. reading along the lines of his amusing embarrassment of him not knowing what he was doing exactly it still warms your heart when he stated in his own writing that he was grateful and happy to share that moment with you.

the letter going into detail of all the moments that break you into laughter- such as when you and Steven rolled off your bed unaware as you and him were to wrapped in the passion- to your face heating up when he went into erratic detail of his hand placements on your ‘Aphrodite like body encouraging the Aries affair to overturn gracefully, to repent in no favor but yours’.

not being ashamed to write down every moment of the midnight passion. from the way you tongues and lips were locked and didn’t dare separate for air, to how his hands ripped your clothes into shreds ‘to praise and worship the skin that sparkled and shone like buried treasures for my hands to caress’. a heavenly burn begins fluttering in between your bubble sud thighs when you look over the polaroid's. some you took and some he took but all in all they showed you and him doing, well-

your first time

a slow hand that doesn’t hold the scandalous polaroid's flows down to your bubble covered breast. pinching the nipple, the sensation only sends the pleasure down south to your hidden jewel. biting your bottom lip, you crave for Steven’s hands. crave his lips, crave his touch...

generally, his attention but you cannot go past your golden rule no matter how good the thought of your fingers stroking your folds sounds. knowing its best to not break the rule of touching yourself without his permission the thought of it sits pleasantly in your head. trying to distract yourself the growing sensation with his other letters and plucking one of the fifty fluffy macaroons that lie on the pretty Laudree packaging.

Steven gifted you all the luxuries that would substitute his absence, but all you ever wanted was him

heart thumping in this truth you again attempt to distract yourself with his blush colored letter. cooing at Stevens cute sketches of you and reading poems dedicated to his first impression when meeting you- but you cannot think of anything or concentrate on anything but the first letter. giving cheating glances back to the polaroid's, your glance is captivated by Steven’s handsome and muscled physique in the contrasted filter. the faintly colored noir-film like pictures emphasizing on his golden skin rippling against the sheets caging you in with his arms.

the night replays with the jazz music in the ballroom of your mind, throwing your head back you feel yourself underneath him just as you were then. hands in his hair and his clenching the sheets besides your head when you kiss passionately as he rubbed his hard member against your forbidden fruit.

it didn’t help your case at all that you’re embellishing that night into your thoughts. it’s only making you desire your sweetheart more and more, needing him more and more as the minutes passed.

wanting- no, craving to hear the sweet music that is his voice

yearning to descry the divine tinge of his tongue clicking to his teeth when you says your name so sweetly. to imagine the movement of his tulip petal lips as he speaks his ‘I love you’s’ like a prayer and he’s on his knees for a goddess.

oh you needed it just as much as his instructions on how to handle your distressing state. realizing the soft pink dial telephone that stood at the opposite side of the tub you bite your lip in thought.

should you call Steven?

it makes you wonder, shifting against the water careful to not spill any over the edge. chewing on a raspberry macaroon at the thought, you pout not knowing exactly what you’d say. you and Steven have been in a relationship for years now, it should be simple to call your lover and talk to him about this yet a sparking idea light up like a shimmering star above your head.

you and Steven were both helpless for dirty talk, your words and underlying message would pull him out of whatever he was in to cater to help you with your problem.

your thundering impatience and searing lust had shameless minds of their own as you pulled the cushioned ottomon closer to you and dialed Steven’s office number through the rotary disc. heart strumming along with the music continuing to play in the distance you do not exhale a breath as you hear the sound of the phone dialing. the powdered pink handset in your hands. chin resting on the rim of the porcelain tub as your lips brush against the mouthpiece in the shape of a heart.

when the dial ends with the sounds of him about to speak a gleaming smile radiates off your lips, pulling the handset closer to you to speak.

“Steven!” your giggle that follows afterwards makes a dimpled smile pull at the blond’s lips and he lightly chuckles.

your presence melting away anything else that captured his attention away from you. fortunately you weren’t the only one craving the love and affection of your partner, Steven was in a busy meeting with Tony and the other avengers at the grey and stern table. argued his way through and pursuing a solution to the worldly crisis that was in their hands but with the progress he’s making he’s sure to help the team come to an agreement.

“how are you doing, my love? did you enjoy your gifts? i’m counting down the hours till I pick you up for our reservation. treat you how you should be treated today,” Steven’s tender words breaks your dreamy state and your wispy babydoll lashes flutter at the sound of his voice.

“well right now i’m taking a bath. drinking some tea, reading your letters and i just so happened to cross on this one specific letter…” your teasing voice flowing through the mouthpiece and into Steven’s ears.

striking his brain, trying to comprehend what you're saying and trying to decipher whether your giggles are aimed towards him or onto something else. you made it known how much of a tease you were, from your suggestive dresses you’d torture him with when you’d attend gala’s to your shameless yet elegant class as you’d whisper all the dirty things you want him to do you once you two got home.

indeed it worked like a charm, sometimes it left little self control as he’d take you in that backseat of the sleek vehicle. it’s definitely working now

“alright what are going on about you little minx?” Steven states, a tint of his dominance in his voice but you continue to drift in your fit of giggles as you bend your knee to your chest in exuberance.

pulling Steven’s letters that rest besides the silver tray of macaroons and tea, you hug them to your chest as you reread his paragraphs upon paragraphs of his thunderous thoughts and detailed emotions ravaging you in sinful detail.

“oh, nothing Stevie... just couldn’t stop thinking about a little something, do wanna know about it?”

“absolutely darling. anything is better then being in that room with those blockheads,” Steven didn’t know he said that thought aloud but you don’t care.

you’re panning on relieving the throbbing pleasure pulsing at your slicked core and maybe undo some stress he’s under if he’s a fair distance away from wandering ears.

“will do Captain, ‘the second our mouths collided was an ambrosial taken place. a supernova in labor between our bodies thriving to find our peak, creating a cosmos of divination as her walls wrapped around my cock. the indescribable pleasure as unforgettable as the dimple at the corner of your fiery lips and enchanting sparkle in her eyes. the moans that flowed from her mouth soft and encouraging-

“‘-as I wrapped her thighs over my shoulder and thrusted my cock deeper and deeper into her forbidden fruit. her sweet, forbidden fruit so sweet I wouldn’t dare reject if a serpent offered so.’ I was hoping you’d read that special one, you need to understand how lovesick I was for you then. i’m still lovesick about you now but its gotten impossibly stronger now than before.”

that statement makes you shift in the water, rubbing your thighs together as your fingers rest in between them. imagining its Steven’s large hand that’s pinned at the plushness, however you’re yearning for the warmth, security and skill they hold that your hands don’t nearly possess.

“lovesick you say?” you purr, the sinful sound rolling off your tongue it makes roses blush on Stevens cheeks.

an unknown tightness of his trousers making itself known, he grits his teeth at your tactic but he cannot help it. he gives in so easily for you, it impossible to repent and withold

“yes doll, i’m lovesick. lovesick for you and only you. now answer your Captain, did you enjoy your gifts?” his voice growing and deepening, lust soaking his thoughts and hardening his member at the thoughts of you, you, you.

holding the phone in between your ear and should as you pluck another macaroon from the assortment. a smirk plays on your lips knowing that your plan is working, you can here his little grits and groans as he locks his office door.

“I did enjoy your gifts Captain, and I love the fact that seventy percent of them all are tiny pretty things that barely cover my body. I love giving you a good show when you get home from work,” your voice smooth as the buttercream roses you decorate with your heart-shaped cakes.

your free hand tweaks at your nipple, the remands of strawberry vanilla from your previous macaroon stick on your tongue but how how you want to taste the pre cum that leaks from Steven’s tip. the filthy thought has you abandoning your breast to give attention to your cunt, a whimper excluding your lips when it burns so good at just the touch.

“mhm I knew you’d enjoy them doll. you always pull such good performances for me in them. so sweet and pretty, all for me to rip it off you,” you don’t mean to slip past a moan as your fingers rub your pearl but it’s too late to take it back when he hear Stevens stern exhale.

“are you touching yourself sweetheart?” his voice isn’t smooth and suave no more but raspy and demanding, making your fingers stop their rubbing motion.

“n-no,” you fib but all you want to do is sink in the bubbly warm water when you hear Steven darkly chuckle.

“don’t lie to your Captain sweetheart. are you touching yourself? tell the truth,” you gulp at that, mouth shaking as you bring the sound piece of the handset closer to your lips. internally hoping and praying that Steven will give in to you, even when you’re breaking a golden rule.

“yes. yes I am Captain,” your breathy whisper holds all the euphoria and lust you're body is swimming in and it doesn’t help that you hear the metal clank of a belt unbuckling.

“without my permission?” you can’t decipher his voice, whether or not he’s angry or disappointed your fingers stop tracing the bubbly surface of the pink tinted water.

“y-yes, Captain- but I just couldn’t help it! you left me and my mess alone this morning. i’m so lonely here without you,” you mellow, your fingers once again tracing your lower lips.

not daring to plunge them deeper once you hear the light sound of Stevens heavy breath fanning into your ear. shivers sending up and down your spine deliciously, it’s like he’s here with you now even when he’s on the other side of the city.

“mhm, you just couldn’t help it, sugar can’t you? you need me right now don’t you sweet girl? you need your Captain to help you?” nodding hysterically along with him.

coming to a realization that your lover can’t see you nod your head, your pretty lips you’d let him kiss and use any day pull into a pout. knowing you’re going to have to beg him to allow yourself to touch your pussy.

well, his pussy

“yes please! I-I need you Ste- Captain! please I need you!” your breathy voice begs and on the other end Steven has a smirk playing on his handsome face.

it’s hours until he’ll be done with his meeting and hours until he picks you up for your dinner reservation but he’s in your debt. you never know this but Steven was sprawled in your hand, whatever you desired and needed he’ll give you within the snap of his fingers. if you needed him when he’s away, he’ll make it seem he’s right near the tub. guiding your fingers in and out of your hole and leaving praises and affirmations into your ear.

“how can I say no to you doll?”

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jinpanman · 4 years

Text

It's You

pairing: hoseok x fem. reader (+ lowkey yoonjimin)

word count: 14k

genre: pg15, fluff, friends to lovers au, teacher au, coworkers au

warnings: a lot of awkwardness, excessive blushing, drinking, some non-explicit nsfw (dirty thoughts, brief mention of boners, hoseok blurts out wanting to put babies in you😌)

synopsis: An accidental confession throws your years-long friendship with Hoseok into disarray.

a/n: my first finished fic in 2 years!!!!! WOW. from what started out as a literal dream months ago to a 3k monster of illegible scribbles to a 9k mess to this. thank you to the BSH members for being amazing and helpful and oh so wonderful. thank you to Connee @writerly-love for being so lovely and encouraging uwu she writes so check her out y’all 💖 and the biggest BIGGEST thank you to my beta reader Melissa @hauntedlilies for doing me the biggest solid and helping me with 31982 things in this fic. you have been the best help and your advice and commentary is invaluable to me. thank you for encouraging me and thank you for loving my idiot characters! she draws and writes btw. check her out!!💖 i hope you enjoy this story, dearest reader 🥺🌱 (edited 05/2021)

yoonjimin drabble: It’s You 2.0

Is it normal to be so endeared watching your students jumping with excitement around your colleague?

You love your students, you do. Why else would you have become an after school teacher? Sometimes, though, there are days when you’re scrambling to come up with an activity hours before the kids flock in from their day class. It’s tiring to always have to be on your toes in order to meet the needs of your students—which change at the switch of a light every day!—but it’s a welcome weight in your life.

You’re thankful that you don’t have to do it all on your own. Every other week you collaborate with other teachers at the school to foster friendship and camaraderie outside of your student’s usual age range. Today your class is combined with Hoseok’s, and they are all too excited to see their favorite Mr. Hobi. Not that you blame them.

Hoseok claps his hands, drawing the attention of your students whose loud chatter lowers to a hum, albeit still excited. The students flock to him like little ducklings to their mama and you absolutely cannot help but giggle at the sight. He has such a natural chemistry with children and choosing a life as an educator fits him so well.

Your eyes wander to where your colleague is situated in front of the class. He instructs the students to raise their hands along with him and together they stretch for a good minute. His face is scrunched in a goofy smile as his head tilts, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. Would he mind if you walked over to fix his glasses?

The herbal tea he brought you before class warms your hands as you stand in the back to observe. The steam from the cup brings out a lovely smell of peppermint which you inhale happily. Despite being a strong advocate for coffee and knowing next to nothing about tea, he somehow knew the exact type of tea you liked to drink. You take a long sip and listen to him entice the children with one last hour of fun before they have to go home.

“Okay kids! Today we’re gonna make the ground really pretty for everyone to see tomorrow morning! What do you say?”

They all cheer and he directs them to stand in two orderly lines in front of either of you by the front door while he hands you a bag filled with chalk sticks of varying colors. You raise your brows in curiosity.

“Last minute decision?”

He scoffs and hands a chalk piece to the next student in line.

“No!” You raise a brow at him and he sighs in resignation. “Fine, yes. But no one needs to know that, okay?”

You both laugh in complete understanding of the teacher struggles. Oh, the simple life of a child; so easily amused by a little piece of chalk.

“Teacher, teacher! Come look!”

One student pulls you away from your bad attempt at a portrait of Grumpy Cat, the greatest cat to have walked the earth. You walk over her and she points out something she drew on the cement.

“Look! It’s you and Mr. Hobi!” she exclaims in excitement while jumping up and down.

Sure enough there are two clumsily drawn stick figures. You assume the one with glasses is Hoseok since he’s donned a pair of round glasses today, paired nicely with his red flannel. You applaud her artwork, thanking her for drawing you so nicely, when another student comes up from behind you and squints at their peer’s drawing.

“That looks like Mr. Hobi and his girlfriend!” they say.

“No! That’s not his girlfriend. That’s Ms. Y/N!” she stomps in defiance.

The two students argue until they both yell for Hoseok to come over. Their loud commotion gains many of the other student’s attention and they all seem to watch on with curiosity. He casts a puzzled look at your direction to which you shrug, not entirely sure what your students are trying to prove. When he’s standing beside you they both shoot rapid fire questions.

“Mr. Hobi, who does this look like?”

“No, no! Mr. Hobi, who do you think these are?”

“Do they look like you and Ms. Y/N?”

“No, do they look like you and your girlfriend?”

“Do you even have a girlfriend?”

The other students have somehow flocked around you during this squabble. They giggle and you hear a unison of audible gasps in approval and join in on the questioning.

“Yeah! Do you? Do you?”

Hoseok stands there like a deer caught in headlights, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicker over to you, silently begging for help. Both your students are normally well behaved and usually do well not to ask personal questions about information you don’t voluntarily share. You can’t fault them for forgetting to be polite in the heat of the moment. They are children, after all, so you do your best to redirect them.

“Hey hey, why don’t we let Mr. Hobi speak before you ask any more questions, okay? Remember what Mr. Slug says?”

They slouch over and robotically recite Mr. Slug’s motto about letting other people take a turn to talk but their eyes still glimmer with hope. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know what to say. As much as you want to laugh at his skittish stance, you know it won’t do to leave your fellow teacher hanging. The laughs can come later when the kids are gone.

“Alright, kids why don’t we—” You start to change the subject to shift their attention elsewhere when a student behind you speaks up.

“Ms. Y/N you have to help us!”

The other students join in and echo the plea to find out who Mr. Hobi’s secret girlfriend is. You cup your hands around your face so no one can see you mouthing to Hoseok—earning several groans from your students—and exchange silent communication with him. The easy smile on his face tells you that it’s okay to humor your students today, so you begin to laugh with your students and egg him on.

“Mr. Hobi, please, please, will you tell us?” you ask, putting on a half hearted puppy face and clasp your hands together to appease your students.

You swallow back a snicker at how his face morphs into embarrassment. So maybe this isn’t what he thought you’d pull, but his reaction was worth it. You tease him and poke at his reddening cheeks.

“Ahh, you don’t need to do that,” he mumbles from his pouty lips.

You pull away before he can snatch your hands. Your students laugh at your antics and chant “Mr. Hobi has a cruuush!” You chant along with them in good fun, giggling at your friend’s increasingly flushed face. He seems to finally find his senses and holds his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, alright! Calm down and I’ll tell you who she is.”

The students jump in place, cheering for their victory. His gaze lingers on you, but you think nothing of it, instead donning a shit eating grin. The children waddle in even closer, eager to hear what he has to say.

“Okay, well she’s this really, really pretty lady who likes cats a lot.”

“Ooh, like Ms. Y/N’s cat she drew?” one student interrupts and points to the striped cat you have yet to finish.

“Mhm! Just like her cat.”

“What else? What else?”

“She also doesn’t like coffee at all and makes fun of me for drinking it.” You raise your eyebrows and nod your head in approval. Whoever this lady is, you like her already.

“What does coffee taste like?”

It’s clear he didn’t expect that question and fumbles with trying to explain what coffee is to five and six year olds. You rub at your cheeks, aching from having been smiling for so long. It’s impossible not to smile when you’re around Hoseok. Simply being near him has always been enough to get you to smile.

“Tell us more about your girlfriend please!”

You hadn’t expected them to still be after that and you laugh at their boldness.

“Yeah, c’mon. Who’s this secret lady who hates coffee as much as I do?” you ask cheekily.

“Ah,” he looks away and scratches at his nose. “Well she’s—”

Just as he’s about to reveal more about this mystery woman, the dismissal bell rings. He clicks his tongue and cackles at the disappointed faces all around him.

“Oh well! Guess you’ll have to wait ‘til next time, kids. Let’s get back to class.”

The students moan and groan but they comply and head back to the classroom to be picked up and go home.

It’s become routine to walk out to your cars together any time your classes are paired. Today is no different. Hoseok waits for you by the door, hair tousled from running after students and long sleeves rolled up his arm, revealing a black watch wrapped around his delicate wrist. As he fiddles with his phone, the rings on his fingers glint under the afternoon rays that sneak through the classroom door sidelight.

“You took your glasses off,” you nod your head at the glasses now tucked inside his shirt pocket. “They looked good on you.”

“Ha. Nice as they are, wearing glasses for too long hurts my ears.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you coo and reach forward to rub his ears.

He grumbles and swats your hand away. He pushes open the door and motions for you to go first. You think back to the earlier fiasco with the children and wonder how is he still single? Having known him for many years prior to working together, you remember many interested suitors, both men and women alike, trying their hand at wooing him. You can’t think of a single person who doesn’t like him, or at least have a begrudging respect for him.

Outside of your job, you also know he’s the life of the party when you meet up with your friends. Your mind briefly wanders to what it would look like if you were coupled with him. Maybe you’d drive home together and wind down after a long day at work. Then you’d change out of your work clothes, cook a meal together and dance while you’re waiting, maybe even cuddle in bed together until you fall asleep. You’re thinking dangerous thoughts and you take a mental note to chastise your inner conscience when you’re alone.

“So,” you clear your throat and pretend like you hadn’t just imagined a particular fantasy about the man walking beside you, “since the kids brought it up, now I’m actually really curious.”

“Oh man, not you too,” he groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Hoseok, come on! We’ve been friends for years now and you know what, I don’t remember you ever dating? At least not seriously. Is there anyone you’re interested in these days?” You see the hesitance on his face but you press on. “You know me, Hobi. You know I won’t tell anyone. Not even Yoonji.”

Yoonji, half of the reason why you and he are friends in the first place. The other half being her twin brother, Yoongi. You met Yoonji in your first year of university, and through her you met the crazy bunch you now call your friends. Hoseok and Yoongi had been friends long before college. Once you and Hoseok became acquainted through the twins, you’d bonded over the mutual suffering dealt by them. It had been easy to get along with him, and it didn’t take long at all to move up from acquaintances to friends. You were more than happy when you found out you both had been hired and placed at the same school after university.

He shakes his head at your request. “Nah, you wouldn’t know her anyway.”

“Okay, see! So there’s no problem in me knowing! ‘Cause I don’t know her.” You bump shoulders with him and tug at his arm. “Look, if you really don’t want to tell me, I’ll drop it. I promise. But I really am curious about the person who’s stolen Mr. Hobi’s heart.”

You’ve stopped in front of his car and now there’s nothing to distract him from your pleading face. You do your best not to look like a wide-eyed crazed cat lady and more like the pleading Puss in Boots. You hope it’s working.

“You really wanna know?”

“I do! But only if you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Promise you won’t run away when you find out?”

You’re puzzled by the shift in his demeanor, in the way his voice has dropped to nearly a whisper, but you nod anyway and extend your pinky finger out to him. He brings up his hand to wrap his pinky around yours. You’re taken aback by how seriously he’s taking this, but you wouldn’t do anything to betray his trust. He waits for a few seconds, then nods, seemingly satisfied and stuffs his hands inside his jean pockets.

His eyes are downcast and with a heavy exhale he says quietly, “It’s you.”

You blink. Then you laugh. And you can’t stop laughing. The nervous energy rolls off of you in peals of inappropriate laughter. It isn’t until you see he’s frowning—an expression that doesn’t cross his face often—that you try to reign in your nerves and calm down.

“You got jokes Hoseok!” you say, trying to lighten the sudden sour mood.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I—I like you.”

Your residual giggling immediately subsides when you realize he really is serious. A wave of confusing emotions wash over you. You’re shocked, you’re confused, and you’re in denial. This can’t be happening. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your brain flips through your dictionary of words to try to understand what you’ve just heard.

Frustration spills out of his lips when you remain mute. “It’s you! I want you! It’s been you for years. Is that not what you wanted to hear? Are you satisfied now that you know?”

Wait. What?

Your mind still hasn’t caught up and all you can do is stare at him. You catch a quiet "fuck” escaping his lips as he roughly rakes his fingers through his already messed hair. He gives you one last glance before he dashes into his car. Seeing him leave finally gets your tongue working.

“Wait.” You try to grab his arm but he’s already shut the car door. “Wait Hobi, I—I’m sorry. No, no wait please!”

He drives off without a single glance back.

You have never felt like the shittiest person to exist on this planet until now. You survey the lot to make sure no one witnessed this scene and are relieved to find no one. You scurry into your car, forcing back the hot tears that want to come out.

You don’t deserve to cry after being so cruel. Even if it was unintentional. You scramble for your phone as soon as you’re strapped in. The screen immediately unlocks once your face is in view and you swipe on your best friend’s number starred at the top of your contacts list.

Yoonji picks up after the third ring and her voice drawls out through the speaker, “Did Hobi finally spill the beans, ‘cause thank fucking god.“

You briefly register that you can hear Yoongi in the background talking to another man whose distressed voice sounds vaguely familiar. Blinking your tears away, it takes a second for Yoonji’s words to sink in and you are, for the second time today, at a loss for words. You’re out of the parking lot when your voice finds itself but your brain has yet to catch up, still stuck on those three words that came out of Hoseok’s mouth.

"Wait, wait, wait. Yoonji. You knew? About him? But—wait. How did you—why didn’t you know—er, tell me?” Your free hand flies wildly in the air as you drive.

“He’s not exactly subtle about his feelings for you, you know. Do you not remember last month when you complained about wanting milk tea and he immediately dropped everything to personally drive to a shop 10 minutes away to get you one—a large one, might I add!—with ‘for miss beautiful’ written on the side of the cup?”

“He does that for everyone,” you mumble into your phone.

“No he does not. You’re just a dumb squirrel and apparently he’s attracted to dumb squirrels.” You don’t need to see her to know she’s pacing mid rant and examining her freshly manicured nails like the princess she is. You wish you knew how she had the funds and time to repaint her nails every other week.

“How come I never noticed?” you ask, pointedly ignoring the squirrel jab.

“Again, you’re a dumb squirrel—”

“What am I gonna do? I didn’t mean to make him feel bad about confessing to me. I feel like such an ass,” you whine into your phone, once again ignoring her insult. You roll your eyes at the fake sounds of her humming in thought. She enjoys making you antsy beyond belief way too much.

“Yoonji! Stop teasing me please!” Your face contorts into the best puppy face you could muster, and you’re sure the driver next to you is giving you a weird look.

“Ew, gross. I can feel your puppy eyes on me 70 miles away. Stop it.”

Worth it.

“Well first of all,” she begins, “you were an ass. How would you feel if you confessed to someone and the first thing they do is laugh? That was shitty of you, babe!”

If you weren’t driving, you would have hung your head in shame. “Yeah, I know…”

“Mhm. At least you know.” As much as she loves you, Hoseok’s her friend too. You don’t blame her for not comforting you. “Anyway, you could go about this several ways. One, let him down easy. Or two, open your eyes and realize you feel the same way. Or three, avoid him for the rest of your life and run away to a convent to make certain you’ll never see him again.”

You whine again, just as pathetically as the first time. “You’re not helping! Those are all impossible!”

“Fine, fine.” She sighs into the phone. “So answer this for me then. Do you like him?”

And that there is the million dollar question. Do you like him? You’ve never given yourself the luxury of seeing him in that way. He was obviously a very attractive man with an equally captivating personality. Yes, he may have made your heart flutter at least a dozen times in the time you’ve known him. Okay, so maybe more than a dozen…

And yes, you may have indulged in one or two fantasies about what it would be like to date him but you never allowed your mind to wander farther than a few innocent thoughts. You valued your friendship with him far too much to divulge in selfish daydreams. You reveal as much to your friend.

“Babe, all I can tell you is that knowing Hoseok, he’s probably at home wallowing in despair and embarrassment and will probably hate himself for making you uncomfortable. Aaand drinking himself silly because he’s stupid.”

You hear Yoongi snort in the background.

“B-but I’m not—”

“So go tell him yourself then!”

“Ah Yoonjiii..” you whine... again.

“Figure it out, bitch! I gotta finish painting my nails now. Love youuu!” She hangs up before you can wail her name once more and you’re left to stew in your feelings for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Hoseok doesn’t show up for work. Or the next. By the third day, you’re tempted to ask your supervisor if he still even works here. Okay, so maybe you’re overreacting a little bit. Maybe Yoongi would know if he was still alive, but then he’d pry into why you’re asking in the first place and you’re not ready to answer any questions.

You’ve just gotten home and your shoulders droop heavily. You have yet to receive any news or texts from Hoseok since he left you in the parking lot that day. It didn’t help that the kids were exceptionally testy today.

Your mind is riddled with worry, but rather than for yourself, you worry about him. Actually if you’re being honest, you’ve been thinking about him endlessly since then. You hope he’s taking care of himself. You want to apologize. You need to apologize. This realization is what helps you to make your decision.

With a sudden blaze of courage, you grab your purse off the couch and head out to the bus stop just a street down your place. It takes about thirty minutes with one bus transfer that leads you directly to his apartment complex. You’ve been there many times and while you know the route by heart, this visit feels like a whole new experience.

Your feet know exactly where to go and how many steps to take, leading you out the bus, into the apartment complex, and up the elevator until you’re standing in front of his door. You stare at his door and a brief flash of doubt rings alarms in your head. You ring the bell before you can overthink your actions. A few seconds later his voice chimes out from the speaker box.

“Who is it?”

His voice sounds very tired. Has he not been sleeping well?

“Hello?” He tries again.

You lightly slap your cheeks, bringing yourself back. You weren’t even aware you had frozen up.

“Hey, it’s me. Um, Y/N.”

No answer.

"Can we—can we talk?”

Again, you are met with silence.

Your fingers twiddle with the hem of your shirt, unsure of your next move. You came all the way here on complete impulse. You don’t do well when you don’t have a plan. And right now, you have no plan, which is ironic, considering you’re a teacher for young children who require a level of spontaneity every day.

You’re itching to escape but your feet remain wooden against the pavement. You bend your head down and glare at your legs, willing them to move goddammit. You nearly find the will to finally bolt when you hear the door creak open. Your head whips up and you immediately seek out his face. You come eye to eye with a disheveled looking Hoseok hiding behind his door. His bleary, sunken eyes follow you warily as you take a step forward and blurt out his name, but before you can get another word in he addresses you.

“Look, I don’t need a pity party okay?” He pauses to slink further away from the already small opening through the door. “Especially from you. It was a mistake and I’m sorry that happened. I shouldn’t have told you like that and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was a bad move.”

You open your mouth and breathe in, ready to counter his allegation but he puts a hand up, an unspoken request to continue talking uninterrupted. “I just need a few more days to clear my mind. I can’t promise I’ll be okay soon but—”

You interrupt him anyway.

“I’m not saying no Hobi,” your voice is meek but you mentally pat yourself on the back for finally finding your voice.

“Wha—what? What did you… er, what do you mean?”

“I,” you pause to collect your thoughts but alas, when you have no plan your brain goes haywire and your mouth rambles away without your permission. “Well, first I want to apologize for forcing you to talk and for not taking you seriously. I really didn’t mean to disregard your feelings or make fun of you. You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all actually! It’s just that… no one’s ever—I mean, I didn’t think you saw me in that way and, well, I mean I always thought you were cute. You’re so handsome and dreamy and you’re funny and when you smile your eyes crinkle into little moons and your hearts a smile. I mean! Your smile, it makes a heart and I love it so much and I, um, but I didn't—I mean I don’t know why you even like me in the first place.” You laugh nervously, anxiety rising up inside you like bile at not being able to get the words out right.

A warm hand wraps around yours and you’re bewildered. He’s opened the door just big enough to let his hand out to hold yours. He’s the one hurting and yet he reaches out to comfort you when you showed the slightest unease. If anything, he should be lashing out at you right now. The warmth in his eyes tells you he has no intention of doing that. His thoughtfulness and care towards you, even after you hurt him, causes your heart to stutter and you fight on despite your nerves.

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m still not sure about my feelings but I’m willing to try? If you are too? I don’t really know how to do this, but—but I’m willing to explore whatever this could be with you. And I’m not saying you have to consider my feelings because that isn’t fair to you. You can absolutely tell me to fuck off and I won’t bother you again. Um, yeah I think—I think that’s it.”

God, you can’t wait to get home so you can punch your pillows for rambling so much! You stand there, staring at the side of the door so it looks like you’re looking at him but you’re really not. Your halfhearted smile slowly dwindles into a tight lipped smile the longer he stays silent and you’re wondering if now’s a good time to skedaddle.

“Okay, got it. I’m sorry Hoseok—” You turn your back to him, completely prepared to walk away with your tail tucked.

“Can I hug you?”

You whirl around and blink owlishly at him and stutter embarrassingly so. “What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“I mean, y-yeah? I guess?”

You’re dying internally over how your voice squeaks and inflects into a higher, unsure tone. He pushes the door open and pulls you by your hands into his arms, effectively drawing you away from your internal conflict. The feeling of his warmth around you sends your heart into an unfamiliar tangle of emotions.

Hoseok has always been the best bear hugger. He believed hugs revealed what a person was like, and his preference for full hugs definitely conveyed his desire for physical contact with the people he loved. This hug, though, was different in the way that he held you so close to him, with his face nuzzled in your hair. You breathe in his scent that’s brought you comfort throughout the years and wrap your arms around his waist. You feel his arms tighten and pull you closer into him. You pray the stuttering heartbeat felt between the two of you isn’t only yours.

After a long minute of silence—which somehow felt like one hour and one second all at once—he murmurs close to your ear, “If this is you giving me the okay, then I’m not gonna hold back anymore and I’m going to pursue you honestly. And… hopefully show you that my feelings for you are sincere.”

You let out an involuntary squeak much to your horror and hide your face into his chest, not trusting yourself to speak. You feel the shake of his shoulders as he laughs, the puff of breath tickling the back of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He eventually pulls away from your hug but instead of letting go, his hands reach down to hold your own and he looks down at you with shining eyes. His face paints a tender gaze and the combination of how he smiles at you has you bashful so instead, you focus on the way his thumb rubs against yours. It only sends your heart into further overdrive.

“It’s late.” His voice is soft as he speaks to you. "Did you drive here?”

You shake your head no. Then you gasp and tilt your head in mild bewilderment.

Okay but why didn’t you drive? Are you dumb or are you dumb? You try to convince yourself you took the bus to save Mother Earth. Not because you were in such a hurry to see him that you forgot you have a car.

“Let me drive you home then,” he says and squeezes your hands.

“No, no it’s okay. I can get a taxi!”

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t let you do that. It’s dark out now and I’d feel much better if I take you myself.”

“Hobi, I’ll be fine. I promise!” His brows furrow and you bring your arm up to flex your bicep. “See, look! I’m a strong girl.”

He’s entirely unimpressed and rolls his eyes. “Look, either you let me take you home or you’ll have to sleep over tonight. I don’t want you going home by yourself.”

“Eh?” Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You’re a deer in headlights thinking about a night alone with him. Nope. No way. Nu-uh. Vetoed. You won’t survive. Especially not after your almost-kind-of-but-not-really confession.

You sigh in defeat and bow your head.

“Fiiine. You can take me home, I guess.”

He grins and while you’re pouting that he won this trivial argument, your heart is whistling a happy tune at seeing a smile grace his face once again. You wait outside while he grabs his wallet and keys. When he reemerges from inside his house, he gestures to his left.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm!” You motion for him to lead the way and you follow after him.

The car ride back to your place is quiet, save for the low ambiance of his music playing on the stereo, but it’s a comfortable silence. You have more questions you want to ask. There’s still a lot you want to know, but you figure you’ve both had enough of a surprise tonight. You trust that there will be many opportunities in the near future to ask.

Once he’s parked his car outside your apartment, you turn to thank him and bid him goodnight only to be met with an empty seat. He’s already outside, waiting for you.

“Hobi you didn’t have to come out!” you protest as you exit the vehicle. “It’s cold!”

He only hums in response and walks with you to the front entrance. You’re half expecting a goodbye hug, considering he’s out here with you, and you’re surprised to feel your chest swirl in disappointment that he does neither of those. Instead, he takes a step away from you and the words that leave his mouth bring you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“We’ll take this slow, yeah? I don’t expect you to know how you feel by tomorrow or even next month. I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer.”

He strokes your cheek, lingering in front of you for a few more seconds. He leaves you with his touch etched onto your cheek. You fall asleep with the sole thought that you wouldn’t mind falling for Jung Hoseok.

The following morning feels like a daze and you’re on autopilot for the rest of the week. Before you know it, it’s your biweekly get-together with your gang. You’d gained a chaotic but solid group of friends in your college days. While the group has slowly decreased over the past two years after graduating, your bond is still as strong, even if you don’t meet as often as you used to.

It’s Hoseok’s turn to host this time and you’re freaking out. You recount every conversation you’ve had with him this past week at school. The both of you made a point to only talk about school related topics, very obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. The only thing that’s changed is the rate of daily text messages between the two of you. You now awaken to “good morning texts.” Throughout the day, you send each other “this reminded me of you” texts and end each night with “how was your day?” texts. Your heart is slowly becoming conditioned to jump any time his name appears on your phone screen. Today is no different. Your heart is racing at the thought of finally seeing Hoseok outside of work.

[Y&Y’s Minions Group Chat]

Taetae: aye bro heads up im bringing some juice w me

Taetae: yknow. for us nonalcoholics.

Hobibi: 👍

Yoonji(min’s Wife): weak ass bitch 🙄

Taetae: Shut up or im not bringing jimin with me 🥱

Min Suga: she just punched me cause i laughed man wtf

Taetae: 🤣🤣🤣🤣

You: LOOOLLL it’s what you deserve

You: also tq for bringing juice taetae 🤧 idk if i can handle another of jimins mystery concoctions 😩

Taetae: that’s what you got hobi for right?

Hobibi: Exactly ;)

Min Suga: right. like he can hold his alcohol????

Hobibi: also can yall actually come on time so we can start our movie early?

Hobibi: dude i’ve gotten better at drinking tghank you very much

Yoonji(min’s Wife): sorry what im jared 19

Min Suga: she lies. shes putting makeup on for Park

[IMG_2831 delivered]

You: lmaaaoooo you got called out babe!!!

Yoonji(min’s Wife): fuck you min yoongi. find ur own ride there bitch <3

You snort reading through the messages. One day someone’s gonna fight and you have no doubt Yoonji will be one of the contenders. You’ve already resigned yourself to the role of her babysitter, knowing full well you’ll be tending to her every whim and command the day it happens as well as the following day of her recovery. Your phone pings again.

It’s a separate text message from Hoseok.

Hobibi: i can’t wait to see you beautiful :)

You gasp audibly and your face heats up instantly. You’re grateful there’s no one around to hear you. What should you text back? You’re still unfamiliar with the Hobi who flirts. He is flirting, right? You fumble with your phone, heart racing a mile a minute, texting a (hopefully) flirty reply back when Yoonji’s winking selca takes over your screen. You drag your finger across the Accept button and her voice drawls out from your speaker.

“I’m heeerre!! Come outside so we can get wasted tonight!”

You snort and hang up without replying back to her. As soon as you plop into the passenger seat she thrusts a bottle of alcohol into your hands.

“Drink.”

Apparently, her idea of calming you down is with some pregame booze.

It doesn’t help.

When you arrive at his apartment, you attach yourself to Yoonji’s back, but she was having none of that. Her shared telepathic powers with her equally chaotic twin brother draw them together as soon as they’re in the same room. You squeak at having been left behind and follow her, intent on hiding behind her the whole night.

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have blindly followed after your friend because the person accompanying Yoongi was none other than his best friend who also happened to be the man you were trying to avoid… which wouldn’t have worked anyway considering this was his home. Yoonji drags you out from behind her and you’re given no chance to pretend like you weren’t hiding.

You shoot daggers into her boobs, praying that her boobs will swell and explode right in front of Jimin for outing you like this. You clear your throat and straighten out your shirt, then exchange greetings with the two men, feigning nonchalance. You don’t mean to but your eyes flicker down Hoseok’s figure. His hair looks freshly dried and curls around his face in the most beautiful way. A thin blue crew neck sweater hangs off his shoulders and hugs his torso just right, but when do his clothes not fit him well? It’s cut low enough to just tease the outline of his collarbones and it doesn’t help you with your already heightened nerves. You gulp and lower your gaze. For some godforsaken reason, he decided it was a good idea to roll the sleeves up and expose his forearms. You’re on your way past his hips when—

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Oh dear, did he catch you staring?

His voice draws your gaze back to him and you find him looking right at you with a shy smile that flutters your heart. A compliment from him would usually have elicited a laugh and a “thank you Hobi.” Now, it evokes a stutter and a burning face. It’s a change the twins catch onto quickly. They exchange knowing glances which neither you nor Hoseok see, too busy staring at each other.

And then you’re colliding into each other.

“Oops!” Yoonji cackles and raises her glass to her brother.

"My bad. My hand slipped.” Yoongi raises his own and clinks his drink with hers. They take a sip and completely ignore the two frozen statues beside them.

“Hey, what do you say we go say hi to the soulmates?”

“Right on my sweetums. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

“You’re disgusting and also you’re wrong.”

Yoongi forcefully links arms with his sister and they shuffle away still bickering, meanwhile you and Hoseok are a blushing mess, locked in each other’s arms. His hands burn pressed against your lower back and you pull yourself away from him. You ignore the way your body screams at you for leaving his warmth. Your eyes flit around, looking at everything except for him. And then it lands on a sliver of skin peeking out behind his sweater that had risen up in this blunder.

Wait. This is bad. Don’t focus on that.

Focus on your annoying best friend. Yeah… this is all her fault.

“Sorry Yoonji’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Understatement of the year.” He snorts and readjusts his sweater back down. You bite back a pitiful whine and suddenly you have no idea who you’ve become.

“They’re both menaces. Remind me never to have them in the same room again.“

You laugh at the truth in his words and then it’s back to a dead silence. One you’re not used to, especially not with him. He rubs the side of his arm and clears his throat.

"Um, well, you know, if being here makes you uncomfortable it’s okay to leave. My feelings won’t be hurt. Or I can just, I don’t know, not talk to you tonight? If that’s what you want?”

You wince at his offer.

“No!” you say immediately, wanting to remedy his misinterpretation of the nervous waves radiating off you. “I wanted to come! I… well, as nervous as I am, I wanted to see you?”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, right. I could definitely tell from the way you hid behind Yoonji as soon as you got here.”

You force out a weak laugh at having been caught. Should you apologize or yeet yourself out of this situation? Thankfully, he makes the decision for you.

“Why don’t we go say hi to Tae and Jimin? Since you just got here.”

You swallow the apology that hangs on your tongue and nod slowly. You walk in silence to where the rest of the gang is gathered. Yoongi and Jimin are engrossed in a conversation about the latest EP released by their favorite duo RM and JK. Meanwhile Yoonji is making very no-so-subtle heart eyes at Jimin while Taehyung is chatting away about something she obviously has no interest in.

You’ve known Jimin for a few years and he’s only just started coming along this past year to your meetups with Taehyung, his childhood friend. He integrated so well into your little group and you all were quick to adopt him and dub him as the Resident Giggly for how beautiful his laughs were. His bubbling personality also somehow snatched the Resident Shady’s heart, despite her always denying it. You decide to do your friend a solid and save her from Taehyung’s ramblings. It’s definitely not to distract yourself from the Resident Smiles beside you.

“Hey Taetae!” you call out to the broad shouldered man who turns around, bright eyed and smiley. You notice a cup in his hand that you hope is just juice. He doesn’t drink often but when he does… Well, you certainly won’t want to be present.

“Y/N you’re here! Finally someone who will listen to me!” He pulls you into a side hug.

You laugh. “That’s ‘cause she’s too busy making goo goo eyes at—oof!”

Yoonji shoves Taehyung who still has his arms draped around your shoulder. He trips and sends you nearly toppling over as well. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you. Hoseok pulls you to his side, a safe distance away from the two rowdy ones.

“If you both know what’s good for you, you will shut up or else!” she hisses between her teeth. The blush growing on her cheeks tells you otherwise, though.

“I love you too, Yoonji poo!” Taehyung teases and pinches her cheeks.

She slaps his hands away, scowling. Then her attention redirects to you and you don’t like the way her eyes have turned alight. She nudges Taeyung and nods her head at you and Hoseok. He looks at the pair of you and his lips turn up into a sinister smirk.

“Well, well, well. Wouldya look at that?” You don’t like that both his and Yoonji’s smug faces are now focused on you. “So anyone wanna tell me when you two became a thing?”

You and Hoseok share a confused albeit nervous look. It’s then you realize how close you are to each other and you don’t hate the close proximity.

“You do realize you have your arm around her, right hyung?”

It’s not until he points it out that Hoseok realizes he never let go of you. The arm that rested around your hips tears away from your body and falls back limply to his side. Yoonji snorts at how fast he let you go and you try your best to hide your disappointment, calling upon all the times you’ve had to school your face of irritation at work. You note that he doesn’t move away though, and his hand ghosts yours with every breath he takes.

“Don’t be mean Tae,” you scold him and push him away.

“It’s not like that. We’re not a couple.” Hoseok’s strong protest wavers at the last word and the way his ears redden don’t do well to support his claim. Your face flushes at his word choice.

“Who’s not a couple?” Jimin pops in, hands propped around Taehyung’s shoulder.

Taehyung eyes Yoonji and says with a smirk, “You and Yoo—mmph!”

Yoonji pounces on Taehyung and slaps a hand over his mouth. In typical Jimin fashion, he falls to his knees, laughing at their bizarre antics. As much as those two clashed, you knew they loved each other a ridiculous amount. You tug at Hoseok’s shirt sleeve and ask if he wants to get a drink.

He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go before they strike again.”

The two of you share a laugh and head into the kitchen where two glass bowls are filled to the brim with dark liquids. The smell of alcohol reeks from the one nearest you and you nearly gag.

“Did Jimin make this?” you scowl and point accusingly at the punch bowl with a dark red liquid sparkling dangerously. You hope alcohol doesn’t spread through air particles because if it does, the other punch bowl is surely spiked by now.

“What did you expect?” He chuckles and hands you a glass cup.

You grab the ladle laying beside what you hope is the nonalcoholic drink and pour into your cup.

“Hey, so um… about earlier,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “er, sorry about that. I didn’t even know I was still... touching you.”

“Ah, no it’s okay. I didn’t know either actually.” You take in a breath and brace yourself for what you’re about to admit out loud, “To be honest, I kind of liked it.”

You hear him take in a sharp inhale after your confession and you wonder who’s blushing harder. Probably you. You hand the ladle to him and hold your breath when his fingers graze yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He recovers quickly and winks at you. Your recovery rate is much slower and his wink only sets you back further. “So, um, I’ll let you catch up with everyone. I gotta go set up for the movie anyway. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He briefly reaches his hand to brush against your cheek, then leaves you alone, starstruck in the kitchen, to be the good host that he is. The rest of the night goes off without any other hitches. Plenty of laughter is shared between the lot of you. Jimin may have tried to spike the literal juice bowl a few times, but both Taehyung and Yoongi dragged him away each time.

Throughout the night, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the room for Hoseok only to be met with a pair of brown eyes already looking at you. Each time you make eye contact, you both blush and look away at having been caught staring. Each time it happens, your friends turn around to stick their fingers in their open mouths and fake a gag.

You’re on popcorn duty as the evening begins to settle down for the “movie” part of movie night to finally start. You emerge from the kitchen with three large bowls with freshly popped and buttered popcorn. You sigh with resignation when you see only two available empty seats. One next to Hoseok on the love seat and one in between Yoonji and Jimin. You absolutely are not ready to be in such close proximity with Hoseok for the next two hours, but you also don’t want to cock block Yoonji.

Although she’d never admit it to anyone, you knew she harbored a secret crush on Jimin. Anyone else outside your group and they wouldn’t know any better, but every one of you except the object of her affections knew those faux mean jabs and rosy cheeks were reserved for Jimin and Jimin only. You have a suspicion that he felt the same way about her with the way he always seemed to apparate in whatever room she’s in just to giggle at whatever she says or does. You can’t wait for the day they both stop toeing the line and confess to each other.

You pass out two of the three bowls of popcorn and peek over at Yoonji and Jimin. Jimin’s leaning over the empty seat, phone outstretched to show something to Yoonji. Their voices are hushed but you can see her lips curled into a dopey smile. Right, no cock blocking. Your gaze flickers to where Hoseok is seated. Okay girl, you got this. No time to be a chicken or Taehyung and Yoonji will never let you live it down.

Your leg collides with his when you sit down and your poor heart is once again fluttering. Should you let it stay there or should you move your leg? Why are you suddenly so self conscious about every move you make around him? The answer was obvious but let a girl stay in denial, please.

Unbeknownst to you, the man sitting next to you was going through his own inner turmoil. Should he act like his usual self? Should he be chill? Should he try to flirt? He wants to put his arm around you, but what if he came on too strong and scared you off? Before the both of you noticed, the film was already ten minutes in, popcorn in your hands untouched.

“Hey, Hobi! Y/N! If you two aren’t gonna eat your popcorn, pass it on!” Taehyung shouts over the movie with a mouth full of popcorn.

He pulls you out of your thoughts and you grimace at the way the light from the television makes the butter grease around his mouth shimmer in the dark room.

“You’re disgusting. Swallow your food before you speak, you heathen. And for the record, we aren’t sharing.”

Hoseok grabs the bowl from you, smushes it into his chest, and grabs a large handful shoving it into his mouth as if to prove a point. Several pieces of popcorn fall out of his hand back into the bowl. In his haste, he gets grease all over his outer mouth. Your mind dares to flash a dirty thought about the lubricant on his lips and you cup a hand over your mouth.

Oh god.

Your brain really just went there.

You make a point to ignore the way your body heats up and instead reach over to wipe the oil off his mouth with a swipe of your thumb. He looks at you quizzically and when you lock eyes you both freeze. His eyes grow comically wide, his jaw locked mid chew.

Hold on. Did you just touch Hoseok’s mouth? With your thumb?

“Gross.” Taehyung grumbles at the sight of you and turns away to focus back on the movie.

You pull away quickly and shift in your seat. “S-sorry your mouth was dirty and, um, well, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Um… thank you.” He wipes off the remainder of what you miss with the back of his hand and offers you a sheepish smile. And with that, you fall into another silence, popcorn once again forgotten.

Great. Back to square one.

By the time the end credits roll out, everyone is dead asleep save for you who remained wide awake thanks to your very imaginative and hyperactive brain. You decide to disregard the awkward cloud that hung over you and Hoseok tonight to figure out all your sleeping arrangements. It isn’t unusual for everyone to crash at the host’s place, drunk or sober, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. You arch your back off the couch and stretch your tense body, letting out a soft moan as your muscles loosen up.

“Hey, Hobi?”

When you don’t get a response you look over to find him leaned against the couch with his eyes closed and lips scrunched in a small pout. His chest raises rhythmically and you feel bad for having to wake him. You’re nearly tempted to push back his hair to get a better look at his sleeping face. You scoot closer to him and shake him by the shoulder while softly calling his name. He jolts slightly and his eyes flutter open, scanning the room until they fall on you. Your breath hitches in your throat seeing his eyes slowly light up with recognition.

“Hobi,” you try again, voice quiet so as not to disturb him, still in a state of slumber. Your hand rests on his arm and you can’t find it in you to remove it.

He calls out your name, tenderly, carefully. You bite your lip to hide the way it wants to curl into a smile at the way he whispers your name. You don’t realize how close you’d gotten to him until his hand moves a mere inch to rest atop yours. You twist your hand up until your palms are touching. Your fingers instinctively curl around the slots between his own. You feel his fingers twitch but neither of you makes a move to actually embrace, instead reveling in the way both of you vibrate with warmth.

“Sorry I woke you. I just figured you wouldn’t appreciate having everyone drooling all over your couch and carpet tonight.”

He shifts in his seat so that he’s sitting upright and squints at the fallen figures scattered around the room. Then he shrugs.

“Who gives a fuck. Let them sleep there.”

You giggle at his remark and nod in understanding. It would only be too much work to try to move them and you definitely did not want to deal with a drunk and sleepy Yoongi.

“Why don’t you go sleep in your room then, and I’ll see you in the morning?” You take the popcorn bowl laying haphazardly on his lap and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

“No, no. You go sleep there. I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You scoff. “You don’t need to be a gentleman, my dude. This is your house, it’s late, and we both need to sleep.”

“You’re exactly right, it's my house. My house, my rules. And I say that you’re sleeping on my bed tonight. I won’t let you take the couch.”

“Hoseok!”

“Do you want to share it with me then?”

Your words die in your mouth and you gape at him. He nods and says, “That’s what I thought.”

“Oh my god, you are insufferable. Fine, take me to your room. Wait.” Your ear begins to burn as soon as you blurt out that sentence, the insinuation not lost on you. Oh god, why did you have to say it like that? “I mean, uh, er, I’ll just go by myself.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. C’mon, I’ll take you.”

If he’s flustered by your request, he doesn’t show it. Instead he helps you up from the love seat and leads the way to his room. Despite having been to his house many times, you’d never actually seen his bedroom. There was never a need to go in there and now the first time you’re going in is after you find out he likes you. It’s a lot to process.

His room is a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The first thing to catch your eye is a shelf filled with a mixture of figurines and music albums. You appreciate that he hasn’t abandoned his likes and hobbies for the sake of appearing more mature. Beside it is a desk littered with books and paper scrap, presumably for work. In the left corner of his room rests his bed; a thin wool blanket lies unmade at one side.

“Sorry my room is so messy. I didn’t think anyone would be sleeping in here tonight,” he says as he rummages through his drawers.

“If you call this messy, you don’t wanna see my room,” you mutter.

He says nothing back until he finds what he’s looking for. He calls your name and tosses a large shirt and gym short your way.

“You can change into those. I think they’ll be comfier than what you have on right now.” He turns away and scratches the back of his neck. “Um, I’ll, uh, let you do your thing and, um, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” You reach out for his hand and squeeze it. He’s blushing again. You like it when he blushes. Maybe you’ll have to initiate this more often. Holding his hand, that is.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” The giggle that escapes from your lips causes his heart to soar. He looks at you standing in the middle of his room and smiles. It’s something he’s only dreamt of and he knows it’ll be a portrait etched into his memory for a long while.

You wait until he’s closed the door behind him to soak in the feel of his room. This is the room where he sleeps in, where he changes in, where he… Nope. Not gonna go there. You strip off your clothes and discard them in a pile by the bed. The shirt he gave you is thankfully oversized and you decide to forgo the shorts. No one’s going to come in tonight and you loathe wearing pants to bed. After climbing into Hoseok’s bed, you’re hit all at once with his scent. Fuckfuckfuck. He smells good. Your brain seems to manage only that one thought. Again, it’s a lot to process.

Does he have a side of the bed he prefers to sleep on? Does he have a preference at all? Does he sleep fully clothed or… You gasp at yourself and shake your head. Bad thoughts. Unnecessary thoughts. But not unwelcome thoughts. You spend the next while thinking back on the unexpected turn of events that transpired the past two weeks.

Hoseok has been a continuous and pleasant presence by your side. What was once only brief greetings in passing easily evolved into a comfortable friendship. As easy as it was to befriend him, your relationship never became stagnant. There was always something new to learn about each other and it didn’t bore you to talk about topics you’d already previously discussed. It definitely helped that he was just as eager to talk with you. Now you know part of the reason why he seemed to like being around you so often. Not that you’re opposed to it.

Your mind wanders back to earlier this evening when his hand rested on your hip. It was such a foreign feeling but you liked it a lot more than you anticipated. If you think really hard you can still feel his touch. You lied when you told him you didn’t know. You felt everything the moment he put his hands on you, from the way his bicep flexed against your back to the way his fingers absently circled your clothed waist. Almost like it was meant to happen. You can’t stop the smile and warmth that spreads on your face and you roll around the bed, squealing into your hands.

“Bye teachers!” Your last student waves goodbye as they leave with their older sibling.

You both wave back and resume cleaning up the classroom after your last activity. There’s not much left to do thanks to the children helping to clean up before it was time for them to leave. You grab a disinfectant and wipe down the snack table while Hoseok neatens up the rows of desks and chairs.

You may be a bit distracted at the bright blue striped collar shirt that pulls taut at his chest whenever he pulls his arms back. He has at least three buttons undone, not that you’re counting. You’re wiping until the table suddenly disappears beneath your hand and you nearly fall on your face. You catch yourself just in time and move onto the next table, pretending as though nothing happened. He clearly saw you though, if his snickering in the corner is anything to go by.

“I’m about done, Hobi. How ‘bout you?” you ask him as you shove the last of your paperwork into your work bag.

“Yep! I’m good to go.”

He’s fidgeting by the door when you finally grab your bag and walk towards him. His eyes are downcast and worries at his lower lip, but you don’t press him about it. Instead, you nudge his shoulder and motion for him to leave with you.

When you exit the building, he asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

A smile creeps up on your face. “No plans. What’s up?”

You already know the answer and your heart rate is picking up the pace from the anticipation. He curls his pinky finger around yours, eliciting a contented sigh from both of you. He hums thoughtfully and swings your hands around as the both of you walk to the parking lot at a leisurely pace. Neither of you seem to be wanting to leave this moment just yet.

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow.” His voice is firm and unwavering.

Your smile only broadens. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

He nods shyly and his face beams at your reply.

“So I was thinking—and if you think it’s a lame idea please tell me!—but I was thinking, since you’ve recently started a rock collection, maybe we could… go to the river and find you some rocks? Maybe you can help me find some rocks too?”

You didn’t think your smile could grow any bigger. It’s been a few weeks since his accidental confession and you were truly moving at a snail’s pace. Not that you weren’t grateful for it. It’s really allowed for you to take the time to evaluate your friendship and your newfound feelings for the man walking beside you. You’re stealing glances at him more often these days, thoughts straying to how he’s doing. Your phone’s found a new activity, consistently vibrating with text notifications from him. He makes you happy.

You’d been waiting for him to ask you on a date. Yes, it’s the 21st century and no, you don’t need no man to make the first move, but you still wanted to wait until he initiated it. You’re almost surprised by his date suggestion, but you know Hoseok. The wonderful man has always been thoughtful and considerate of his friend’s passions and hobbies. You just didn’t expect him to be so in tune to your interests. Knowing he was aware about your current rock obsession causes an eruption of butterflies and giddiness to flutter in your chest.

“Oh, wow! You’re full of surprises, Hobi. Of course I’d love that! Maybe we can even have a little picnic afterwards.”

“I think I’d like that a lot,” he echoes your previous words. “So, it’s a date then?”

“It’s a date.”

He still hasn’t let go of your pinky finger by the time you reach your car which automatically unlocks from your near proximity. The day still has so many hours until sundown and already you’re buzzing with excitement for tomorrow. Neither of you have stopped smiling since you left the classroom and you decide to give him a surprise of your own.

“Close your eyes for me?”

He raises a brow at your request but complies and shuts his eyes. You wave your hands around his face to confirm they really are closed. Once you’re certain, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage and tiptoe upward to plant a kiss on his cheek. With a teasing smile, you rush into your car. He jolts, eyes shooting back open at the sound of your car door closing. Giggles escape your lips, watching him standing in a daze. You wonder if he’s as out of breath as you are, despite not having done anything cardio related.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobibi,” you say as you reach across the opening to poke his nose.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin and he moves to brush his lips against your finger. You shiver at the sensation. He starts walking backwards to his car and brings 2 fingers up to his forehead to salute you.

“See ya, beautiful. I’ll call you tonight?”

Your heart leaps at how hopeful he sounds. “I’ll be waiting, handsome!”

You wait until he’s inside his car, wave goodbye one last time, and then drive off.

By the time he walks you to your apartment after your date, the moon has risen high in the sky and encompasses the both of you in a faint glimmer.

Today had been the perfect day to go to the river and you both spent hours crouching in the river bed, your faces nearly touching the water in order to see the rocks clearly. It had truly been a wonderful date and you came home with a good handful of small river rocks to add to your collection.

You love that this wasn’t a conventional first date. It did, however, bring a different type of first date anxiety because of the fact that you were already friends. Sweet Hoseok didn’t let the nerves take control though. He’d pulled you into the cold water with him as soon as you got there, effectively washing away all worries. You shared plenty of laughs and water fights today. You’re still damp from spending so much time in the river and while the evening breeze should have sent goosebumps all throughout your exposed skin, you’re instead filled with a cozy warmth merely being in the warm and calming presence of Hoseok.

“I had a great time today, Hobi. Thanks for taking me out to find cute rocks.”

“And thanks for making me wet,” you add for good measure. You snicker under your breath when he chokes on air.

“Oh my god. Um, you-you’re welcome. Your rocks are just as cute as you! Um, and thanks for packing us delicious food.”

It’s entirely too amusing seeing him flounder at your brazen declarations. You liked this shy Hobi. Actually, you’ve come to find you like a lot of different Hobis. The one who brings you tea every other morning at work, the one who walks you to your car even when you’re not teaching a class together, the one who has recently started calling you every night just to say goodnight, the one who blushes any time you compliment him, and most definitely your favorite: the one who has given you a beautiful friendship as the foundation of this newfound relationship with one another.

You have always loved how his smile seemed to shape into a heart. A beautiful physical display of the love he so eagerly and openly shares with the world. Here in this moment though, you know this smile was only for you and you are suddenly so eager to kiss those heart shaped lips. You sigh happily and reach up to smooth down Hoseok’s wind blown hair. You clasp your arms around his neck and bask in the stillness, soaking in the memory of his glowing face under the moonlight.

“Don’t forget to take care of your rocks, okay?”

“Yes, Ms. Y/N.”

“Gross. Don’t call me that,” you scrunch your nose in distaste and push him away. “You can go home.”

He laughs again and grabs your face to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad you had fun. Go rest up, okay?”

Okay, so maybe you were kidding when you pushed him away. He moves to let go but you grab onto his shirt and lick your lips in anticipation. Maybe you weren’t taking conventional steps and yes, there is that unspoken social rule not to kiss on the first date but you don’t care.

Some time halfway into the day, you were swept in a sudden wave of acceptance—of your feelings for this man, of toeing the line between friends and potential lovers. For the remainder of the day you were plagued with thoughts about how kissable his lips are. Splashing him with water until he was soaking wet did not help your dilemma. You zone in on his lips and surely he picks up on your cues because he removes your hands from his shirt within seconds and keeps them clasped in his hold. Your eyes quickly shoot up to glower at him. He chuckles and swipes a thumb across your lips, his expression mirthful.

“Let’s take it slow, yeah?” An echo of what he had said that fateful night in front of his apartment.

You quietly grumble in understanding, knowing he was right not to rush into this, earning you a beautiful laugh to slip from his annoyingly beautiful mouth.

“I won’t say no to another kiss on the cheek though,” he teases.

You scoff at the audacity. “You’ve lost that right. Goodbye!”

He laughs at your outburst and learns forward for another kiss on the forehead. With a final wave goodbye and a heart ready to burst, you head inside. In hindsight, you should’ve known Hoseok’s a glutton for “taking it slow.”

Tonight you’re at his apartment to Netflix and chill. Literally.

It’s been several official dates—and many more unofficial ones in between—throughout the three months since your first date. Many cuddles, many accidental boners pressed against your thigh during said cuddles (leading to some awkward repositioning and pretending it never happened), and many kisses shared all around your faces save for your lips. You’re cuddled up against him tonight watching a rerun of Running Man when you’re hit with a pang of need that you’ve become intimately familiar with these days.

You want to kiss him. Every time you get too close, though, he’d move away. You try not to let it get to you. You really do. But it’s hard not to feel the sting every time you’re rejected. You know he likes you and he knows you like him too. Amidst these thoughts, your mind drifts back to the day you finally confessed that you liked him too. You suppress a laugh thinking about how much of a blubbering mess he’d been. You just wish you knew why he didn’t seem to want to kiss you.

Thinking about all the times he’s rejected your advances completely kills your mood. You unconsciously pull away from him and scoot closer to the other side of the loveseat. Tears are pooling under your eyes and you’re blinking furiously, willing them to disappear. You don’t mean to suddenly feel this way and you certainly don’t want to ruin the good atmosphere tonight.

Hoseok laughs and comments on something in the show but you can’t bring yourself to muster up fake enthusiasm. You feel something rub against you and you flinch until you realize it’s Hoseok pulling you back to his side. His face is masked with worry and he rubs your arms in a comforting motion.

“Hey there,” he murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and adjust your posture on the couch. His eyes furrow at your lack of response and he pauses the show. He shifts to face you and holds your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You bite down on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. You’re usually not embarrassed to cry. In fact you’ve cried many times in front of Hoseok, but those were different times. You don’t want to scare him away. Of course, your body never does like to listen to you. Your chin quivers without your permission and it was like the dam broke. Hoseok’s frown only deepens and he immediately scoots closer, cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes flutter close, completely embarrassed that you’re crying in front of him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.” You try to move away but his hands hold your face firmly in place, wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, don’t apologize. If you really don’t wanna talk about it I’ll drop it. I will. But you know that I’ll make time to listen to you whenever you’re ready, right?”

You take in a deep, shaky breath. The pet name doesn’t help with your already frazzled emotions and you whisper, “No, it’s…we—I can talk.”

He doesn’t speak, instead waiting for you. You’re tempted to ask him to forget it and pretend you’re okay but you know if you never address this, you’ll continue to be stuck in this limbo and you don’t know how much longer you’d be able to handle it. Might as well be direct about it. Beating around the bush never did anyone any favors.

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Your voice cracks and comes out weaker than you meant it to. The following seconds are completely silent. You can’t even hear Hoseok breathe. His lack of reaction causes fresh tears to fall down your face.

“I’m sorry,” you both say.

“I-I thought we’re good now, you know? And, I don’t know, I figured that since we—”

“Wait. Wait, baby let me speak first. Please?”

You hiccup and nod your consent. His thumbs stroke both sides of your face, continuing to catch your tears. His brows are still wrinkled and you want nothing more than to smooth them out.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you this much and I’m sorry I didn’t notice… I know it’s selfish of me and it’s not a good enough excuse but to be honest I don’t think I’d be able to deal with it. And I’m gonna sound really corny but I just know if I kiss you once, I’m scared I may never want to stop and if… or when you decide you don’t want me anymore, um,” he pauses to lick his lips and laughs nervously.

You flinch at his words. Was he still holding onto that? Your heart now aches for an entirely different reason. It hurts that he still thinks you’re unsure about your feelings for him. Has he been stressed about that all this time?

Before he can go on, you push him until he’s resting against the couch cushion. You swallow down your insecurities. It’s something you can come back to later. Feeling bad about him not wanting to kiss you holds little value when he’s been worried about this for god knows how long. His hands fall from your face and you maneuver yourself until you’re straddling him, giving him no chance to look away from you. It’s true that he liked you first and that he had longer to realize his feelings for you but you knew what you felt for him was genuine. You were in this for the long run and tonight you want to make it very clear to him.

“Hobi.”

It’s your turn to hold his face in your hands. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and your heart lurches. “Do you still think that I don’t like you? That I don’t want you? I’m sorry I must not have been a very good girlf—” You stop yourself barely in time. You didn’t mean to let that slip. You’ve yet to establish your relationship with Hoseok, and you didn’t think it was a good time right now. Your blunder didn’t seem to be lost on him though, as you feel his heartbeat race against your chest and his grip that found purchase on your hips tightens.

“I may have been unsure in the beginning, and it may have been new to me at first but my feelings for you now… I love being your friend but you know what? I also love getting to know this other side of you. This side of you that only I get to see. I like when we pretend that we accidentally color code our clothes at work. I like it when our students and our stupid friends tease us. I like that you send me ugly cat memes and that I can send you stupid tweet screenshots. I like it when you come home with me to cook dinner for us. I like all of it.”

You pause to give him some time to let it sink in. He’s staring at you with so much longing and hope that it almost scares you, but you know you yearn for him just as much. If this goes well, maybe you can be scared together.

“I don’t want to go back to being just friends, Hobi. I want to keep exploring life with you.”

His palms are hot against your hips and his breathing becomes erratic. You lean into him until you’re certain he can feel your heart beating at the same frantic rate as his.

“Do you feel that?” He nods. “You do this to me. And... as for my daily problem down there,” you flush, looking down at where you’re connected below the waist. You look up to see him just as flustered, “is because of you too.”

“Loving you... falling in love with you is so easy.”

You feel his breath hitch at your implied declaration. And you realize your mistake too late. Was it too early to say it? Is it too late to take it back? He makes no move to say anything so you attempt to do damage control. In the form of distraction.

You lean even closer into him, pressed flush against his chest until your lips brush against his earlobe, knowing full well this was his weak spot, and say softly, “So there’s this guy I’m into. He’s really tall and handsome. He likes to drug himself up with caffeine every morning and will one hundred percent drop 200 bucks for limited edition shoes without a single thought. Can you guess who it is?” You don’t give him a chance to reply. “It’s you, Hobi. It’s you and only you and I really, really like you.”

Your confession is honest and true. What happens next is entirely unexpected and you would have fallen off his lap if not for his firm grip on you. He practically lunges at you and before you can process it his lips are moving roughly against yours. You had always thought your first kiss with Hoseok would be soft and slow, much like how he’s moved throughout your budding relationship, but no. He kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he was capable of. He nips at your bottom lip, earning him a soft groan from you.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs into your lips.

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your brain is still trying to catch up and process what just happened.

You pull away from him and you blurt out dumbly, “Oh my god you’re kissing me.”

He laughs contentedly and nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He plants a faint kiss, causing you to shiver against him.

"You drove a hard bargain. I couldn’t not kiss you after that.” A quick peck on the lips. “And for the record, I really, really like you too.”

“Kiss me again, Hoseok.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Epilogue

The wind tries to steal your hat away but you hold onto it before it has a chance to fly off. It’s a breezy day today and your boyfriend had the absolutely brilliant idea to teach you how to longboard.

This brilliant idea ends up being him skating down steep hills at the park while you walk in the grass behind him. You had shouted at him several times to slow down or he’d end up hurting himself but of course in typical male fashion, he ignored you every time.

You’re in the middle of firing a comeback at Yoonji’s most recent text about how gross you and Hoseok have become now that you’re a couple when you hear a cry from your boyfriend several feet away. He’s going down a rather steep hill when the wind picks up sudden speed. Loose gravel breaks his smooth run and you watch in horror as he loses balance and tumbles onto the pavement. He hisses as his skin skids against the rocks.

“Hoseok!”

You stash your phone into your purse and run to him. As you get closer he schools his pained expression, in an attempt to hide any pain he may be feeling.

“I’m fine.” He attempts to reassure you before you can start fretting over him.

You immediately kneel down in front of him, ignoring him and grab his hands to assess the damage.

"You shouldn’t have gone so fast,” you scold as you rip out a few alcohol wipes from your bag. You’ve heard one too many horror stories about people injuring themselves falling off skateboards, so you’ve learned to keep several wipes and bandages handy when you found out Hoseok owned a few of his own. You carefully wipe down his scuffed palms and arms. You worry about his knees too but that’s something you’ll have to take care of at home.

He silently drinks in the image of you kneeling between his splayed legs, tending to his barely-there wounds. His heart may very well burst right there. You blow on his hands and flick your eyes up briefly to find his face mere inches from yours, looking at you with such a fond look.

“Ah, babe you’re too close to me,” you mumble shyly and lightly push him a few more inches away.

This only prompts him to lean in even closer until your foreheads knock together and his nose bumps with yours. It’s been several months since you had the “kiss talk” and made your relationship official. It’s been several months and yet your heart is still sent into a panic when you catch him staring. It’s barely your fault that you react physically when he makes you so nervous. You squeak and push his face away from you, causing him to fall over. His chuckles morph into a gruff wheeze as he falls. Embarrassment momentarily gone, you fuss over him again.

“Hobi! Oh no, I’m sorry!”

He lunges for you and pulls you down on top of him. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t expect him to grab at you and you brace your legs for your eventual fall.

“Oof! Oh god!” He exclaims in pain.

He recoils from you and grabs his crotch, rolling away into a fetus position. “Oh god, baby please be more gentle with me! I won’t be able to put my babies in you if you break me!”

You both freeze from his declaration. You, more so in shock, and he, in mortification. You’ve certainly had your fair share of heavy petting and make out sessions since that night at his place… Okay, fine so you can’t keep your hands off each other for even one day and you kiss every chance you get, but you have yet to go any farther than that with one another. Your sanity has been slowly dwindling the longer you go without knowing how he looks and feels. Hearing him basically say he wants to cum inside you in the near future has you perking up instantly. You watch as his eyes grow comically wide and he immediately sits up, pain forgotten.

“Oh shit shit shit. I said that out loud didn’t I? Oh god. I’m sorry I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—I mean it’s—I know we only just started dating and we haven’t even talked about sex yet and—I’m sorry. Oh my god.” He buries his head in his face, ready for the earth to swallow him whole.

You tug at his shirt and focus intensely on where your fingers are fumbling with his shirt and mumble barely loud enough, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, you know?”

He swears he feels his dick twitch. Great. It’s not broken. Awesome.

When he doesn’t respond you continue on, “W—well not right now!"

He snorts. "Obviously not. We’re in public, silly… Unless you’re into that? I mean it’s not my thing but I’m willing to try it if you want us to—” Your eyes widen at his bold declaration and slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from finishing that sentence. You can’t lie though, the idea has you quivering on your knees.

“Hobi!” You hiss. “I meant not for a few months!”

His eyebrows raise and you’re quick to fix it. “I-I mean next year?”

You feel his lips curl into that awful smirk he fancies anytime he turns you into a blubbering mess. Then you feel something thick and wet against your palm.

“Ew! Hobi!” You pull your hand away from him. He leans into you, tongue still out, and licks your lips before you can shrink even further away. You don’t have the energy to protest again, too engrossed on how good his tongue feels.

“Don’t tempt me with the patience game because we both know I’d win.” He grins when you pout at him because you know he’s right. “I can’t wait to explore this new territory with you, baby.”

You flush at his remark and stand up to create some distance to prevent yourself from doing something stupid.

“I need to find your skateboard,” you breathe out and run away from your cheeky boyfriend.

“Longboard!” He corrects you and watches your figure trail away from him.

Hoseok muses how he got so lucky that you, the one he’d been pining after for years, actually reciprocates his feelings. He picks himself off the pavement to help you find his longboard. He thinks he’ll hang it up somewhere in his apartment later today as a commemoration of this lovely date. And he definitely can’t wait to get home and find out how long it’ll take for you to break underneath him.

a/n 2.0: HI ISN’T HOBI HOBI JUST A DREAM???? i hope you liked this fic 🥺 pls share your thoughts with me💗 my asks and dms are always open 💕 like.....always.... <<3333

(gif credit: @jengkook)

#bts fanfic #jhope fluff #hoseok fanfic #bts fluff #hoseok fluff #jhope #hobi #jhobi #the sweetest man #how do u tag things #i can't believ ei did this #pls read ;w;#i worked hard uwu #now lemme go hide in my cave #f:it's you

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clareguilty · 3 years

Text

Nice

Read this one on the AO3 you sluts

This is my 69th fic on AO3 which means you should definitely click the link and leave a kudos and a comment saying “Nice”

Mandalorian/Gn!Reader (reader has a coochie)

Rating: Explicit | No Warnings, just 69

Word Count: ~2400

You made doubly sure to lock the door as you trudged into your quarters, engaging both the electronic lock and the manual bolt. Afternoon sun poured into the room from the large window; the sky on this planet turned everything a strange lilac color that you had never seen before -- so used to the orange of Tatooine, but that was about the nicest thing you had found so far since landing here.

Your travels with Din had landed you smack in the middle of some kind of galactic conflict, and neither of you were happy about it. Sure, you supported the New Republic and you wanted to see the last of the Empire wiped away, but you didn’t necessarily want to be on the front lines of that whole mess.

And Din hated it even more than you. Grogu was away training with Commander Skywalker while the two of you had gotten trapped in this horrible diplomatic dispute. From dawn to nightfall it was nothing but meetings and councils and speeches. Din had no choice but to go, an unwilling participant in the Republic after his accidental takeover of the Mandalorian throne. You weren’t necessarily required to attend, but you had very quickly grown bored of sitting idly around the New Republic base and decided that listening to delegates drone on and on about unity and healing was slightly more appealing. Bo Katan had ignored both of your endless pleas to just take the kriffing darksaber, instead scowling from the sidelines of every meeting.

It wasn’t like Din was making these decisions anyways. The other Mandos deliberated over every choice, and he simply passed the messages on as their representative. He was a figure head. Nothing more.

But still, it was only late afternoon, and you were already bone tired. You pulled off your boots and made your way to where Din was sitting on the bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. The lilac light reflected off of his newly polished beskar. You thought it looked nice.

“We have to meet everyone for supper this evening,” you reminded him. “I was going to sleep a few hours and then spend tonight drinking as much spotchka as I can get my hands on.”

Din chuckled. “As long as you don’t pass out and leave me to fend off everyone by myself.”

“Sounds tempting.” You draped your overcoat over the nearest chair and pulled your top off. The fancy clothes the New Republic had given you were far less comfortable than the loose, desert-wear you were accustomed to, and you stretched and sighed as soon as you were free from the constricting garments.

Din had glanced up, but you weren’t sure if he was watching you. He had seen you naked plenty of times now, and you were perfectly fine being undressed around him. It had never seemed to bother him, though he was still most comfortable in his armor and helmet.

Since meeting the other Mandos and rescuing Grogu from the imperials -- and then subsequently letting Commander Skywalker take Grogu for training, Din had been willing to take his helmet off around others. It wasn’t a common occurrence, only in dire situations or at times when he felt completely safe. You had only seen him without it a few times, and you were honored that he trusted you enough to show you his face.

His eyes were so warm, so expressive. His lips were so soft. You cherished every chance to see him, to feel him.

You were folding your pants when Din reached up and pulled his helmet off. Instinctively, you turned away at the first sight of his stubbled jaw.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You can look.”

You hated the way that your heart sped up as you turned back toward him. You never would have thought that seeing your lover’s face would send such a thrill through you.

He looked… not very good. Dark circles under his eyes, shoulders hunched with exhaustion. He was under much more stress than you, and it was wearing on him. It pained you to see him this way. You sat next to him on the bed, completely naked while he was still in full armor.

“Maybe you should stay in tonight? It’s just supper. I can pick up something from the kitchen and bring it back here for us. We can get drunk on spotchka in the privacy of our room.” You didn’t even try to hide your staring as you rememorized his features, resisting the urge to brush his flattened curls away from his face.

He shook his head. “It’ll be fine.” Despite not even wanting to be the representative for the Mandalorians, he took the responsibility very seriously. He pushed himself so hard trying to do everything he could for his people. You loved him more for it, but you wanted him to put himself first for once.

You reached out and very gently tugged at his armor. “You’ll rest with me, won’t you?”

He looked at you, his eyes roaming over your body. His eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide. You could tell exactly what he was thinking as he licked his lips.

“Rest,” you insisted, smiling. It was exciting to see the desire in his expression. Din wanted you. It was reassuring to know. He was always so shy, so scared to ask for what he needed, letting you take the lead. You had been with each other many times before, but rarely had he let you see his face. It was sweet, how clearly his desire and arousal were written in his features.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he began undressing as well. Beskar and tough fabric gave way to tanned, scarred skin and muscle. Your mouth went dry as he bent forward to pull off his boots. He didn’t make the same effort as you to fold his things, simply letting them lay to the side of the bed where he would fetch them later. He was usually so careful with his armor, you knew he must have truly been exhausted.

He tugged his pants off and you noticed that, despite how tired he looked, his cock was already half hard. Maybe... your nap could wait a little while.

When he turned back to you, you were laying back against the pillows, legs splayed, smirking with your lip caught between your teeth. “I changed my mind,” you grinned.

Din flushed bright red, eyes darting everywhere. It was adorable. You knew he could get overwhelmed easily, but it was fun to watch him flush and stammer when you were particularly forward.

“Come here,” you sat up and patted the bed next to you. “What do you need?”

He settled in beside you. And when he didn’t pull away, you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheekbone, gently running your fingers through his helmet-hair. You loved the way he melted into the feeling of your fingers against his scalp. He let out the softest moan, shuddering under your touch.

He didn’t say anything, but he pulled you in so he could cover your chest in chaste kisses, trailing down over your stomach and toward your hips. Occasionally, he stopped to suck a mark into your skin. He enjoyed leaving little reminders, and he absolutely loved when you returned the favor. Even though no one would see the marks, you had caught him admiring them one morning before he put his armor on.

He seemed directionless, unsure as he kissed across your body. You let him take as much time as he needed. He deserved this chance to explore you. He seemed to be working up the courage for something. You got the message when he tried to nudge your thighs apart. Stubble rasping over the soft skin.

Oh.

The two of you had never done that before. Din was hardly comfortable with his helmet off, much less with something as intimate as this. But here he was, kissing along the inside of your thighs.

You had to be careful. So many things were new to Din and you didn’t want to ruin any of his first experiences.

You nudged him away, pulling him in for a breathy kiss. “I’ve got an idea,” you said. “Lay down for me, okay?”

He did as you asked, hands trailing over your skin as you rearranged yourself. You planted your thighs on either side of his head, bracing your hands on his chest as you lined yourself up. “This okay?” you asked as you peered down at him.

“Yeah,” Din nodded, eyes wide. “More than okay.” He had never been this close to you before -- not like this at least. Now, there were mere centimeters between your pussy and his lips.

You slowly lowered your hips. Din was light, tentative at first. As much as he wanted this, he was out of his depth. You knew this kind of thing was new to him. His tongue found your clit and you moaned. “Just like that,” you encouraged him.

Spurred on by your words, he licked a broad strip over your slit. You couldn’t help but grind down against him. It was slow, teasing for you as he found a pace he was comfortable with. Din had certainly learned how to make you come on his fingers and cock, and he was going to take his time to master this as well.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, gripping tightly as he pulled you closer. You gasped, raking your nails over his stomach. For all of Din’s inexperience, he wanted to make you feel good.

“Stars! Din!” you gasped. He moaned and his cock twitched where it was resting against his hips. He was already leaking onto his stomach and painfully hard just from having you like this. It was so easy to get him worked up. You knew it would be overwhelming for him, but you couldn’t stop yourself as you reached out to stroke him. He groaned low between your thighs, abs tensing as you dragged your fingers along his length. It didn’t matter to you that he became uncoordinated; you just wanted to show him how good he made you feel, how wonderful it felt to be with him, that even with all of the pressure he was under, he deserved this pleasure.

You leaned down, wrapping your lips around his cock. You weren’t trying to break him, but he gasped and dug his fingers into your thighs, bucking his hips where they were pinned beneath you. It took all of your self restraint to give him a moment to come down. You knew he would finish quickly, overwhelmed as he was.

Din felt vulnerable without his armor and out of his depth as he tried to pleasure you, but he loved the sounds you made above him, loved the warmth of your body against his and the softness of your breasts against stomach. The way your thighs felt in his grip, and the taste of you. It was too much but in the best of ways. He thought he was going to die the most pleasurable death beneath you.

And he wanted you to feel the same. Even though he was clumsy and uncoordinated and inexperienced, he wanted to make you come. Pulling you close, he licked and sucked your clit, using your moans and praise as guidance.

You came with shaking hips and loud moans around his cock that had him finishing in your mouth with a choked off groan. You continued stroking him even after his cock stopped pulsing. He didn’t stop his own efforts until you were squirming and pulling away from him, rolling to the side with a satisfied sigh. Din was still reeling from the overstimulation. He had wanted to try something new, try to pleasure you in a way he hadn’t been able to before. Now that you could see him -- that you could feel him and know him -- he wanted to give you everything. And you had given him everything in return.

It took several long moments for him to come back to his senses, in which you laid against his side and pulled the cover over you both. You grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue as he could taste himself on yours. He shouldn’t have found it as arousing as he did, but he moaned into the kiss.

You held him in your arms, and he placed soft, open-mouthed kisses to your chest. While he knew it would be a while before he wanted anything more, he still wasn’t satisfied, and he slipped his fingers down between your legs to try and coax another orgasm out of you. You let out a small, surprised gasp as he curled his fingers inside you.

Exhaustion had finally gotten to the both of you. When you came, it was a lovely, floating pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut as you drifted on the haze of orgasm.

Din curled into your chest. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed a kiss to his hair. You still had a few hours before supper, and you were going to make sure Din slept if it was the last thing you did.

“I miss Grogu,” he murmured, half asleep. You felt a pang in your chest. Even if it was for his own good, letting Grogu go with Commander Skywalker was one of the hardest choices both of you had been forced to make. It had been weeks now, and you still expected the little beast to be around every time you woke. You missed the weight of him in your arms and his strange, all knowing eyes. You knew Din only had it worse.

“Me too.” You blinked away tears. “First chance I get, I’ll break us out of here and we can go get him back from Commander Skywalker. What’s one Jedi against two angry parents?”

You felt him smile against your skin. “We’ll be on the run from the Empire and the New Republic.”

“We’ll have the kid hide us with The Force or something. No one will ever find us.” You ran your fingers through his hair, unable to even keep your eyes open.

Din snored softly in your arms. You let yourself drift off as well. After everything, both of you desperately needed the rest. A few hours of sleep would be nice.

#Mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #smut #lemons #nice #sw fanfic

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p-artsypants · 4 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (10)

In Which Marinette Says the Thing

I was the most excited about this chapter and had most of it written already. :)

Also, I bumped up the rating a bit because there’s extremely mild nudity in this chapter.

(Ao3 | FF.net)

—

She looked fierce. Nails done, a cute, white skirt (that she hadn’t spilled her breakfast on!) and a red and white polka dot blouse. She was cute, she was hot, and she was ready to nab her man!

Said man walked into class wearing...

Oh boy.

A leather jacket, with no shirt underneath, a kilt, and knee high combat boots. There was not a single person that didn’t stare at him.

“Sup nerds?”

Nino entered with him, slightly chuckling, like he had heard a very funny inside joke.

Marinette gawked at him. “Adrien...”

“Aww! Pooh Bear! Look at how cute you are!”

Marinette’s initial horror in his appearance turned into excitement. He called her cute!

“Adrien, do we have to have this dress code talk again?” Miss Bustier sighed.

It turned out he did have a shirt on under the jacket. A black button-up. He untucked the flaps, and buttoned them, unevenly, to cover his sweet sweet bod. “Better?”

Miss Bustier shook her head, but urged him to sit down.

“Soooo,” Alya asked, with a wiggling eyebrow. “Are you wearing that kilt...properly?”

He grabbed the hem, squeezing his knees together to shuffle shyly. “You wanna see?”

Marinette burst into color. “Adrien!”

He laughed, “oh, I’m just kidding. I’m wearing boxers under this.”

“Alright everyone, get in your seats, it’s time to start!”

—

Marinette tried to do her very best to stay calm. But the very idea that a confession to Adrien would be happening today kept her distracted.

She stared at him, watching as he scrawled notes...in Chinese? He really was an overachiever!

The day passed in a crawl, Marinette fretting every minute.

Then the lunch bell rang, and students began to pack up for break.

“Adrien?” She blurted, her hands shaking.

He turned and looked at her, grinning, and lowering his sunglasses to flash her half-lidded eyes. “You rang?”

“Um...can we talk together? Er, go somewhere together to talk? I have something I want to tell you.”

His grin turned into a full tooth smile. “Of course! Where to?”

“Um...mom’s got stuff for sandwiches, if you want to come over.”

“Sounds wonderful!” He packed up his bag, and then held out his hand for her.

He wanted to hold her hand! Ah!

Nervously smiling, she put her hand in his, and let him lead her from the room.

At the risk of having a horribly awkward lunch, she took the lead, and led him upstairs to the slowly emptying third floor.

“What’s up here?”

“I...can’t wait anymore. If this makes things weird, you could probably catch up with Nino or the guys...”

He very gently touched her cheek. “I told you I wanted to have lunch with you, and I will. So say whatever you have to say.” He took his sunglasses off and put them on his head.

Marinette took a huge breath. “Now, I just need to know...who is the real you? Are you...is this who you are, and you were suppressing the rebellious, chaotic side? Or are you putting on a show?”

He blinked at her, eyes wide. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean...I support whoever you are. I want you to feel free to be you, and celebrate what makes you special, but...” she tucked some hair behind her ear, a nervous motion. “I just miss the boy I fell in love with.”

“Marinette...”

“I love you no matter what, though! I promise! I just...your kindness, your shy sweetness and honesty really captivated me. That day when you gave me your umbrella, and you went out of your way to apologize for the misunderstanding. You didn’t have to. I was the one that jumped to conclusions, but you wanted to make friends and get on the right foot with me. Your laughter, your smile...I was a goner.” She hugged the strap of her purse. “So this new version of you has been jarring, but...if I’ve been reading your signs right...?”

He pulled her into a hug. “Oh Marinette. Sweet, kind, thoughtful Marinette. You’ve figured me out. This is all an act. Except my attitude towards you. I feel the same.”

“You...love me?”

“Yes. More than I can express.”

She raised her head, tilting her chin and slowly closing her eyes.

The gag kiss during truth or dare was one thing, but Adrien would kill Plagg if he kissed Marinette in earnest like this.

Instead, he pressed a finger to her lips and smiled at her confused look. “Not yet. The timing isn’t right. If I could give you the world, I would. In fact, anything else, I’ll give it to you. You have my heart, and that will be yours as long as you want it. But I don’t think you want a relationship right now.”

“I’m confused...” Marinette said, her lips trembling.

“I want to protect you from my father and Lila. If I make you my girlfriend, they will try to hurt you to get to me. I’d hate to ask you to wait for me, since you’ve finally gotten the courage up to confess...but would you wait?”

Marinette reached up to hold his face, letting her thumb pass reverently over his cheek. How had she gotten so lucky to fall for a man so thoughtful? So loving?

“Adrien, I’d wait a hundred years to be with you. It’ll be our secret for now.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted more from the conversation-“

“Just knowing my feelings are returned are enough. Thank you.”

He took her hand again. “You still want to feed me sandwiches? Do I still deserve it?”

“Of course you do...My Prince.”

Plagg almost retched, but he schooled his face into an adoring grin before he faced her again. “That’s adorable!”

“You like it?”

“I love it!” It was just cheesy enough for Adrien.

“Then that’ll be your nickname...in secret. No one else will know.”

“I think you’ll come to find that our little secret will be so much more fun between us.”

—

After lunch, Plagg and Marinette returned to school. They stopped holding hands as they approached the building, but they stood close and bumped each other coyly.

The behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Alya or Lila. But Alya was the only one to confront them.

“You two seem close,” she asked, twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, we just had a very funny lunch together.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Some great inside jokes. You had to be there.” Plagg sent a wink at Marinette and she seemed to swoon on the spot.

Plagg let her go back to her seat, ignoring the whispering from the girls behind him.

They thought he couldn’t hear them. He could.

Nino bumped his elbow. “Everything cool dude?”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell you later.”

—

Later came after school, of course. The second Plagg and Nino were away from school property, Plagg blurted out, “I’m a genius. I got Marinette to confess her undying love for Adrien. Boo-yah!”

“What?!” Nino shrieked. “Dude! She’s been trying to get that out for months! How on earth—no, wait. I know the answer.”

“Confidence.”

“And obvious flirting.” Nino scoffed. “Adrien always threw out the line, ‘you’re such a good friend’ in front of her. It was like wearing a big sign that said, ‘I will reject you!’”

“I’m right here, you know,” Adrien said, poking his head out of Plagg’s jacket. “And to my defense, I was trying to be faithful to—“

Plagg covered his mouth before he could accidentally reveal Marinette as Ladybug. “No excuses, lover boy!”

Thankfully, Adrien seemed to realize the mistake he almost made and nodded. “Fine, fine. I appreciate that you didn’t kiss her...again. So now what? Have we fulfilled that part of the contract yet?”

“Not quite.” He held up the ring. A paw print with three pads faintly shone on the surface. “Once a condition is met, you’ll hear the ring give its telltale beep and a pad will disappear. Once the paw print completely vanishes...well, you’ll be back in your own body anyway.”

“So...what do I need to do? She already confessed to me.”

This was a conversation better had without Nino involved. Of course he was a bro, and would be helpful for things. But Ladybug’s identity should still remain a secret.

“Nino...” Plagg began, with a drawl. “How much do you know about the birds and the bees?”

Nino sputtered. “HA! BYE!” And he made an about face and hurried towards home.

“Wait Nino!” Called Adrien.

“We’ll meet up with you later!” Plagg sang after.

Adrien looked to his body. “Please tell me you don’t have to...get up to some nasty stuff with my lady. Sure, it’s my body, but you’re like a bazillion years old and I was rather hoping to wait until marriage—“

“Calm down, Romeo. No, there’s not any hanky panky involved. I just needed to get Nino to leave without saying, ‘hey leave’. If he’s going to be suspicious, I need him on a whole other wavelength.”

“Okay, so if there’s no horizontal tango happening, then what are we doing?”

Plagg slipped the ring off his finger. “You need to spend time with her. Tell her or don’t. Just spend time with her outside of school and akumas and get to know her better. For an alibi, tell her that you haven’t been feeling well and you need to be in proximity of the Miracle Box. Then have her send her earrings to me so things stay even.”

“Will she go for that?”

“Probably. You know her better than I do.”

“What about the ring? Don’t you need to wear it because we’re switched?”

“Nah. It should be alright for a little while. It should stay with my body though.”

“Okay...I guess...I’ll go see Marinette.”

“Have fun!” Plagg wiggled his fingers in a farewell and started walking to where Nino had disappeared.

Nervous as all get out, Adrien fled to the bakery, trying to figure out what he was going to tell Marinette.

When was it appropriate to come clean? How long should he wait? Should he blab at all?

Soon, he was hovering above her trap door, and peering inside. Marinette sat at her desk, music playing as she worked on homework. Her head bobbed to some tunes.

“Okay, she thinks you’re Plagg. So she’ll welcome you in and listen to what you tell her. And if she finds out you’re Adrien, then she loves Adrien and everything will be fine. Right? Right!” He psyched himself up.

Using his poorly practiced phasing powers, he entered her room and came to float by her desk. “Hiya pigtails!” He chirped, in the typical Plagg style.

She jerked, before turning to him. Her eyes landed on the ring and widened with surprise. “Why do you have that?! Is Chat okay?! What’s wrong?!” She stood, and nearly knocked over her chair.

Even Tikki looked surprised.

“Everything is fine!” He rushed to rectify. Then he remembered Plagg’s crafted lie. “Mostly. I haven’t been feeling very good, so I think I need to be closer to the Miracle Box for a little bit. I brought the ring for you, if you would send Tikki to Chat for a little while. That way he’s covered in case there’s an Akuma attack.”

Luckily, she bought his dirty fib and started to remove her earrings. “Oh, well if you aren’t feeling well, that means Chat won’t be in top form. We can’t have that! Of course we can trade!” She took the earrings off and handed them to Tikki, before putting on the ring.

Adrien felt a tingle down his spine as the black metal turned rose gold on her dainty finger.

“Is he at home?” Asked Tikki.

“No, come with me, I’ll tell you.” And he escorted her up to the balcony.

“Did Plagg put you up to this?” She asked, once outside. “This seems like one of his hair brained schemes.”

“I mean...he came up with the excuse...but I thought Marinette’s confession today would fulfill one of the conditions of the contract, but it didn’t. Plagg said I should just spend time with her.”

Thankfully, Tikki was the nice one. She patted his paws. “I’m sure you miss her too. I won’t say anything. But I will be having a word with Plagg about this whole thing. He should know that body swaps don’t always work!”

“Don’t tell me that! I’m struggling as it is!”

“Sorry!” She giggled. “Why don’t you go on in. Be prepared though. She’s been all sighs since ‘Adrien’ returned her feelings today.”

If he could blush, he would have. “Oh boy...”

“Where am I going?”

“Oh, Plagg is staying with Nino now. He left home. And uhhh...Nino knows. About me, not Marinette.”

She scoffed. “That rascal.”

“Thanks for understanding, Tikki.”

“I’m understanding with you, because you’re the victim of a manipulative, chaotic creature of destruction and havoc.”

“He can be a bit of a turd.”

“What am I doing? You could be spending time with the love of your life! Now, go on!” Tikki pushed him towards the door before flitting off to Nino’s.

Suddenly faced with seeing Marinette again, and continuing to lie to her face, he sheepishly returned to her room.

She had ducked out for the moment, and he found himself alone.

Alone, but surrounded by dozens of pictures of himself.

Knowing about her crush put these photos in a different context, for sure.

“Just a fan” she said. She was a big fat liar too!

“Adorable, isn’t he?” Her voice grabbed him while he was off guard.

“Uhhh...I guess? For a human?”

She giggled, and set down the plate of cheese danishes onto her desk. “That’s Adrien. He’s kind of my boyfriend. It’s not official yet, but he loves me.” She smiled widely. “He told me just today.”

“‘Kind of’ your boyfriend? You’re okay with that?”

“He can’t date right now because of his father. But he asked me to wait for him. I’d wait a thousand years for him.”

His heart hammered in his chest. “What about three years? What if he can’t date until he’s 18?”

“That’s fine.” She said nonchalantly. “We can still hang out. We can focus on school and drama doesn’t have to come between us...”

“And if someone else available comes along?”

Marinette couldn’t know the real reason he was asking that question. She just fondly patted his head. “Sorry Plagg. I know you care a lot about Chat, but Adrien...Adrien means the world to me. I love Chat too, but in a different way. And he’s not available, not to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Chat will always just be my partner. Can only be my partner. We couldn’t date if I wanted too. It would be too difficult.” She sat back at her desk and sighed. “It would hurt too much.”

Adrien was struck speechless. How was he even supposed to respond to that? Was that an admission that she actually did have some feelings for Chat Noir?

It didn’t matter. Not now. “I didn’t mean to put you on the offensive. I was just...curious, is all. I’m happy you’ve found someone who loves you.”

She smiled at him then, scooping him out of the air and scratching his cheek with her finger. “Thanks Plagg. I hope I didn’t come off as snooty. I know you care about Chat. But he can fight his own battles.”

Her words made him feel like garbage. She had no idea, of course. Because up until the body swap, Adrien’s battles were not being fought. They were purposefully not being fought, because he was too chicken shit to upset anyone.

“Yeah...he’s brave alright...” he muttered.

Marinette settled down at her desk and continued on her homework.

What was a boy to do? He sat on the desk, and helped himself to the cheese danishes.

They were almost worth the trip over here by themselves.

“Enjoying yourself?” Marinette asked, eyebrow quirked.

At that, Adrien realized with thinly veiled horror that he had been moaning.

Eek.

“These are the most delicious things I’ve ever had!” Or maybe it was because Plagg had only fed him Camembert until now. Sure, Plagg’s taste buds were attuned to the foul stuff, but after a while, the same foods over and over get old.

Marinette just smiled at him fondly and continued with her work.

Would it be odd to look at her? Would she notice? He certainly found it hard to look away. He couldn’t stare at her during school. Not as Plagg, and not as Adrien from now on.

She tapped her pencil against her perfectly kissable lips, scrunching her nose and narrowing her eyes as she studied the page. It was adorable, but more so, it was the same face she made as Ladybug, when she was trying to solve her Lucky Charm.

Was it hindsight? Or if he saw Marinette making that face, would he have realized it?

Would he have cared enough to look at her?

Of course he would! He argued with himself. Marinette was always special, and her being Ladybug only elevated her in his mind. It was a match that made sense. Of course she was Ladybug. No one else could be so…wonderful.

But faced with her, and not knowing what to say or how to begin to explain the truth, he had to ask himself the tell tale question:

Did he like Marinette now because she was Ladybug? Or did he always like her, and was only in denial?

He begged it was the second. It had to be.

Her qualities were the same. There was nothing about Marinette that made him recoil or actively deny her identity.

Scratch that, Marinette was ridiculously clumsy.

But besides that, they were the same.

“Thinking about something tough over there?” Marinette asked.

“Huh? Oh. Uh...yeah. You know how it is.” Like that made any sense.

“Right. Like I could understand the problems of a Kwami.” She teased. “If you need to talk, I’m all ears.”

Soon. Soon he’d explain everything. But right now, he was just too nervous and scared of her wrath. “Thanks Marinette. I appreciate it. But I don’t want to distract you from your homework.”

She shrugged a little, not wanting to pry, before going back to work.

Adrien and Marinette shared the cheese danishes, and occasionally talked as she worked. When she got severely stuck, he would throw her a few hints.

Then she stretched, finished. “Oh thank goodness! I’m so tired, and I could use a lazy evening.”

“Marinette! Dinner time!”

“Well, after dinner, I’d like a lazy evening.” She scratched Adrien’s head. “Let’s just hope there’s no Akuma attack.”

“Fingers crossed!”

“You’ll be fine up here alone?”

“Of course. Have fun with your parents.”

“Oh,” she wilted. “Should I tell them about Adrien?”

“Why not?”

“I’m just scared that my nosy parents will ask a hundred questions. And we’re not even official.”

“Maybe by mentioning it now, when it becomes official, it won’t be much of a shock.”

“And maybe we can avoid another disaster like when my dad got akumatized. You’re right.” She couldn’t help but sigh. “Well, I’ll tell you how it goes!” And she went downstairs.

Adrien sat on her desk, scanning the walls and taking in all of his pictures. She really loved him, didn’t she?

And how long had that gone on, and he never noticed?

Was it okay to snoop? Of course morally and ethically, no, it wasn’t. But he was technically her sort of boyfriend. It couldn’t hurt.

Right?

So he snooped. Just a precursory glance through her belongings. It was all very innocent.

Until he found the pink half-circle book. Her diary.

Maybe it was the influence of Plagg’s magic in him. Or this whole experience was turning him into a rascal.

But he opened the book and started to read.

The entries were pretty innocent too. Day to day things, balancing life as a superhero and a student. She mentioned him a few times. Using phrases like, ‘golden hair’, ‘handsome face’, ‘emerald eyes’, and ‘abundant kindness’. She wrote about the times they interacted. From him catching her when she tripped, to the glances they shared. Just the smallest interactions between them, she cherished.

It almost made his heart hurt with how moved he was.

And then there was an entry whose content made him feel a different sort of pain. She recounted a day he had not experienced. Her encounter with his akuma, Chat Blanc.

He read the pages, soaking up every heart breaking moment. All the cruel things he had said to her that he would have never known. Why hadn’t she said anything? Was it too painful? Or did…

Did she think he didn’t need to know?

The diary slammed shut as he was finishing the entry, and a very angry and embarrassed Marinette stood over him, glaring. “Little snoop.”

“Yeah yeah, cats and curiosity and all that. So sue me.”

She took the book away and put it in a box with a lid. “Remind me never to leave you alone in my room ever again.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

She walked away, heading to her dresser. “Are you like this with Chat, too?”

“Oh, I’m much worse. You have no idea.”

She laughed at him, and took her pajamas out of her drawers.

Then without warning, she took off her pants.

And Adrien’s mouth went dry. He watched as she slipped on her pajama pants, and then took off her shirt, and even her bra, before putting on a loose t-shirt.

He was not going to get that image out of his head for a long, long time.

She turned to him and started talking like nothing had happened. “So what do you want to do? I’m all done with homework, and so as long as there’s no Akuma attack, I can do whatever I want. What do you and Chat usually do?”

Adrien didn’t know how to tell her he didn’t really have free time. Plagg just looked up cheese blogs on his phone, or watched a movie while Adrien worked on homework.

“You pick. I’ll just watch if you want to play video games or design.”

“I’m actually kind of tired. I might just watch videos in bed.”

“Sounds fun! Can I join?”

“Sure! Whatever you want, Plagg.” Marinette climbed her ladder up to her loft and settled against her pillows. She pulled a fuzzy blanket around her legs and sighed in content. “Just what the doctor ordered!”

Adrien hesitated a moment, trying to decide where to sit. Her shoulder? Her stomach?

But Marinette took the choice away and patted her chest, just above her heart.

Eagerly, he settled, curling his tail around his body, and absorbing her body heat. She scratched between his ears and made him purr almost instantly.

This was heaven. When he got his body back, he’d lay his head here. Hopefully, she’d scratch his scalp just the same.

The videos played on her phone, just memes. Every time she chuckled, her chest would rumble with the noise, and fill him with joy.

He could hear her heart beating. The heart she had opened for him just today. A heart that he lived in.

And then her phone started flashing with a red light. And akuma alert!

“Uh oh!” Marinette clicked on the alert, checking out the details. “It’s a sentimonster! Come on Plagg, we can’t leave Misterbug out to dry!”

As she scaled the ladder to her balcony, he panicked. How was this going to work? Was she going to notice once they transformed? Would he be able to hear her thoughts like he could when Plagg transformed?

Would he look through her eyes?

She raised the hand with the ring on it. “Alright! Plagg, Claws out!”

Nothing happened.

“Um...Plagg, Claws out?”

“Oh.” Adrien gasped, “oh no.”

“Oh no what? Are you broken? Do I need to fix you?”

“No! I mean—sort of, but you already did your part! I’m just...”

“Plagg, what’s going on?”

He sighed, screwing up his lips and unintentionally showing his fangs. “Um...I’m not...I’m not actually Plagg.”

She stared at him, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing. “Then...who are you?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“No guarantees!”

“Well, okay.” He gulped. “I’m...Adrien?”

She blinked. “Adrien? Like...no. No no no not like Adrien Agreste, my new supposed boyfriend?!”

“That’s me! Hi P-Pooh Bear?”

“What?!” She shrieked. “How?! When?! What—“ she snatched him out of the air with firm hands. “HAVE YOU BEEN ADRIEN THIS WHOLE TIME?”

“I mean, I’ve been Adrien my whole life,” he awkwardly chuckled.

“No, no don’t joke with me right now.” She sniffed. “How long have you been like this?”

“Um...about two weeks now. Since that day he came to school in a crop top.”

Marinette shut her eyes tight, a few tears slipping past her cheeks. “That long...”

“Marinette?”

“So it was all a lie? Plagg’s just—messing with us? With me? You don’t really—“ she squeezed her eyes shut and started crying in earnest.

“No! No Marinette! Of course I love you! I’ve always loved you, you know that! The second I learned you were Ladybug, everything made sense! I was so happy and I told Plagg he had to win you over. Please Marinette, this was never supposed to be malicious.” He nuzzled against her fingers, offering up a purr. “I promise.”

With her free hand, she wiped her face. “Alright, well suppose I believe you. What happened? Why are you like this?”

“I made a deal with the devil. Plagg, specifically. He said he was tired of me complaining all the time. So he said he could solve all my problems if I just agreed to it. Then I woke up in his body.”

“What problems?”

“Well...my unrequited love for you, for one.”

She blushed.

“My relationship with my father for two, and the third is Lila’s harassment.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Marinette sighed. “That’s why he was doing all those things...”

“You mean dressing like a moron and messing with Lila?”

“Yes. And flirting with me.”

“To be honest,” he scratched the back of his head. “I would have flirted with you earlier if I had known you were Ladybug. I liked you before, I was just trying to pretend I didn’t, because I wanted to be loyal to...well, you.”

She held him softly in her hands. “We’ve made a mess of things, haven’t we?”

“It was for our own good. Secret identities and all that.”

“You almost sound like you just repeat that to yourself, but you don’t believe it.”

“I had to repeat it to myself,” he urged. “Every day. Because I so desperately wanted to be with you, to spend time with you out of the suit. I was so lonely and I thought, if there was one person I could trust with my identity, it had to be you. But I wanted to honor your wishes. I just hoped to wear you down, eventually.”

She passed her thumb over his cheek and whiskers. “I had been thinking about it, ever since I became the guardian. I wanted to keep you safe, but if something happened to Plagg and you couldn’t transform, no one would know. I’m not upset with you, Kitty. Though I wish this reveal had happened a little more...mutually.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “What are we doing?! We have a sentimonster!”

“Aw let him fight on his own! He deserves some sort of punishment for this and I have yet to come up with a good one.”

She chuckled. “Alright, fine. We’ll give him a few minutes and see how things are going.”

“You’re taking this better than I expected.”

“I’m in shock.” She chuckled, a little hysterical. “It took me so much courage to confess…and it wasn’t even to your face. That would happen to me.”

He floated out of her hand and nuzzled her face. “All that matters is that I know. We can’t be together quite yet, but the second I get my body back, I plan to make you mine.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely, Bugbear.”

She kissed between his ears. “Okay, My Prince. I look forward to it.”

The ring on her finger beeped, and a paw pad faded out.

“What was that?”

Adrien sighed with relief. “The condition has been met.”

“Condition?”

Just then, a swath of Ladybugs rushed over the city, righting whatever the Sentimonster had ruined.

“Well, looks like he didn’t need our help after all.”

Marinette laughed slightly. “They have been doing this a long time. It probably only took them this long to get it because of travel time.”

Adrien nodded. “So, just to clarify, you aren’t mad at me?”

“Of course not! It sounds like Plagg tricked you. Though I am mad at you for reading my diary…and watching me change!”

“In my defense, I was not warned you were going to change.”

“Still you could have turned around!” She blushed.

“Sorry, Bugaboo, I guess I was just a little star struck.”

She bopped him on the nose. “Now don’t try to flatter me to get out of being caught.”

A yoyo wrapped around the chimney above their heads, and Misterbug made his appearance. His very jarring, ancient appearance. He wore black leggings with a red loincloth around his waist. His shirt was cropped and had billowing sleeves. The mask was just a cloth that tied around his lower face.

“Well well well, I figured if you weren’t on the battle field, you were busy having a lover’s quarrel.” He smirked, the smile only creasing his eyes.

Marinette looked to Plagg. “Dearest Sunshine, do you mind terribly if I abuse your body?”

“Be my guest.”

Marinette wound up a punch and socked Plagg right in the shoulder.

“Ow! Hey, that actually hurt.”

“I hope you, you monster! How could you hurt my poor, sweet, innocent Adrien!?” She cuddled him close to her cheek.

Plagg scoffed. “Puh-lease. There is nothing innocent about that boy. Spots off.”

The pink light faded, and Adrien’s body remained. It was almost hard to look at him, even though she knew it wasn’t really Adrien.

“Oh, now she gets all shy~!” Plagg taunted. “I should have retransformed when I landed. Maybe she wouldn’t have punched me!”

“You deserved it.” Tikki said, flatly.

“Yeah, whatever. So? How’d it go?”

Marinette held out the ring. “It beeped?”

“Excellent!” He took it off her finger. “Two to go!” He slipped the ring on and took off the earrings. “Now I just have to focus on Gabriel and Lila. I think Gabe’s getting ready to crack. Lila though, I might have to push a little harder.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Marinette added. “It makes me feel better that I might not have to put up with her for much longer. So I can take a little damage.”

Adrien frowned. “Can’t I stay with Marinette a while longer?”

Plagg huffed. “I mean you could…but then you couldn’t see the absolute chaos that I planned.”

Adrien winced. “Ugh, fine. I’ll go with you.” He turned to Marinette, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “Bye Bugaboo. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay Kitty. I love you!”

Adrien’s heart nearly burst with love. “I love you too!”

“Gross.” Plagg gagged. “Alright, time to go! Adrien, Claws Out!”

—

Chat Plagg Noir returned to the Lahiffe residence, and swung in through Nino’s window.

Nino for his part, was nearly dancing in panic.

“You good, my man?”

Nino shook his head frantically. “There’s a policeman here for you! I tried to stall as long as I could, and said you were asleep and a heavy sleeper! But I think he’s about to burst down my door!”

“A policeman? What for?”

“I don’t know! He just said he had to talk to you!”

“Claws in.” Plagg walked over to the door, and exited, pensively watching the uniformed man in the living room.

“Did you have a nice nap?” The man asked, arms crossed.

“I did, until I was shaken awake. Is there a problem officer?”

“Adrien Agreste, you are under arrest.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml #fanfiction #I'll handle this #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #adrien and plagg #body swap #identity reveal

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lovetenya · 4 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

pairing: tenya iida x gn! reader

warnings: angst. anxiety. paranoia. self doubt. unkind words. non-explicit mentions of physical pain & scarring. implied death, but i don’t elaborate. lying. worrying.

word count: about 1.8k

author’s note: nobody writes any iida angst, (barely anyone writes for him at all) and as a vehement lover of angst, i thought i’d fill that gap. i love tenya, i really do, but i love to think about him in this way just as much as i love to believe he’d be the perfect other half. nobody is perfect, not even ingenium.

loving tenya iida is yellow.

it’s the color of the petals on the soft yellow daisy bouquet that he surprised you with on the night of your first anniversary. although it wasn’t a last minute purchase (how could he forget the best day of his life?), he still wasn’t exactly sure what to get.

what kind of object can symbolize a love so encapsulating?, he thought. there is no tangible item that could possibly show how i feel.

he picked up the familiar flowers from a shop on the corner that the two of you had walked past before on a date. it was one of the first ones, and you pressed your face against the glass to get a better look at the delicate flowers inside.

he caught himself in his romantics when he thought that none of them were prettier than you. nothing was or ever would be better than this moment, where you were on your tip toes in an attempt to see more flowers. that day, he insisted on buying you a small bouquet of yellow daisies, and thought it would be sweet to indulge and revisit the memory.

the week before your anniversary, he made you promise not to execute any elaborate celebratory plans.

“honey, you know that I’d rather do nothing with you than anything with anyone else,” he said. and he was serious. he would rather sit together on the couch half-listening to a documentary (because you can’t keep your eyes off each other) than go out to dinner, where he couldn’t let down his guard.

although he liked to think that his work made the world a safer place, he couldn’t help but feel paranoid whenever you were out in public. how could he be sure that someone in the restaurant didn’t want him dead? how could he be sure that they wouldn’t kidnap and kill you just to make him suffer? if he couldn’t be sure, was it worth the risk?

he’s an iida, after all. with their striking looks and long hero legacy, it’s not exactly easy to blend in in a world whose wellbeing depends on your greatness and ability. there’s a great sense of pride in coming from a long lines of heroes, and his parents were much less than thrilled to receive the phone call that tenya was in the hospital following the incident that rendered his arm “useless”. they weren’t happy to see that he chose to leave his arm that way as a reminder of his dedication.

when they figured he was out of earshot, they asked questions.

did the doctors check for any mental ailments?

will he ever be able to use his arm again?

why didn’t they amputate?

what kind of hero accepts a physical wound and doesn’t try to heal?

what kind of hero goes after a villain on their own?

are you sure he’s cut out to be a hero?

tenya isn’t proud of the publicity his family got following the incident including a certain self-proclaimed hero killer. he isn’t proud of the wary stares he gets from his classmates. he isn’t proud of the violence he’s been forced to commit. he isn’t proud of any of it, really, but he doesn’t regret his actions; not for a second, not even when he’s painstakingly rubbing scar balm into his shoulder, hoping that at least the scars would fade.

the pain, which seeped deep into his muscles and pricked at his bones, was more than just a cosmetic concern. he couldn’t care less about a scar, but with his limited movement capabilities, he knew he’d never be able to teach his sons to throw. the doctors didn’t have to tell him that. but, of course, they did. he knew what it all meant. he saw through their sugarcoating and attempts at softening the blow. they should’ve known better.

although he’s now your tenya, he was a hero first.

before there was you, there was responsibility. before there was love and devotion, there were hero duties and combat instincts. they’re ingrained into his mind, refusing to be ignored. even when things seem fine, he can’t help but make sure. he couldn’t live with himself if his laziness were to cause someone else’s pain. that isn’t what heroes do. when you’re in public, he’s constantly scanning the room and won’t sit with his back to a door or window, because he needs to be able to see who’s coming and going. he has to make sure that everything is fine. he has to make sure everyone is safe, and everything is put-together.

he has to be strong, because there are thousands of people counting on him. he has to be strong, because evil doesn’t rest. he has to be strong, because... if not him, then who?

the day of your anniversary, you texted tenya while he was at work.

you: i hope you have a great day, my love! i can’t wait until you get home so we can celebrate! <3!!

tenya: I can’t wait either! I love you very much, sweetheart. See you later.

he came home with his arms full of the bouquet of flowers, and almost teared up at the sight of the dinner you had set up for the two of you. you always considered every worry, every caution, every gut feeling of his, and he appreciated that more than he’d ever be able to express. no words did it justice.

you’re more than his other half, you’re his everything. you’re everything he needs, everything he can’t be, and more.

you surprised him with an at-home dinner date, where it was perfectly safe and calm, and there were no people hiding in the shadows. music softly played in the background, and the daisies looked perfect on the table.

it’s okay, tenya, you reminded him. you’re home now.

yellow is tenya’s birthday present, or the envelope holding it at least.

there are only so many thoughtful gifts you can give before the inspiration simply runs out, and you have to go bigger. you have to look forward, and think of what will really leave a mark on someone’s life. you only have so many chances to get it right.

one year, for his birthday, you got him the deed to a recently-discovered star and named it after him. a star for your star. your guide in the dark. your light in unimaginable darkness. your ever-present warmth.

many years later, when tenya is long gone, his star sparkles a little brighter.

through the telescope, he seems to be waving hello.

golden yellow is the promise ring that you have no idea how tenya afforded.

you insist he take it back and that neither of you are ready for the commitment, but he refuses, of course.he’s never been more ready for something in his life. he tells you,

“i got it for you because you’re worth it.

every day with you is worth it.

i never want to spent another day of my life without promising to love you every second of every day.

every time you wear this ring, you’ll be reminded of how much i love you.

i saved for months, anticipating this very moment when i’d get to promise myself to you forever.

i promise, you deserve it.

you deserve everything, and i can’t wait to give it to you.”

and you did deserve it. and you deserve him, in all of his glory. forever.

the harsh bruises littering his chiseled body are yellow at first. they turn purple, eventually, before they fade away completely. their sting, however, is more than just the pain of broken blood vessels. they’re a concrete reminder that tenya isn’t untouchable. he isn’t invincible. he’s human, and he bleeds red.

the bruises come when his instincts send him in the wrong direction, when he dodged too late, or when he couldn’t seem to land a kick. he tells you that they’re from when he “tripped going down the stairs” or when izuku “accidentally punched him too hard during a training session.” (lies.)

yellow is the embarrassment you feel when you confront izuku, pleading with him to be more careful with tenya, and he tells you that he couldn’t have possibly caused those bruises, because hasn’t seen iida outside of class in weeks. nobody has. he’s been training more than usual, and hasn’t been at group dinners.

yellow is the sickness and guilt you feel at the realization, because you recently teased iida for not getting his homework done. he smiled weakly, pretending like it was just a foolish slip-up. it was so unlike him, you couldn’t help but poke a little fun.

“ooooh!!! class representative iida tenya, professional stick in the mud, didnt complete his populations analysis essay on time??? somebody call the news outlets!!! or an ambulance, because i think i might die from shock!!!”

he couldn’t blame you for your ignorance, because he liked that you didn’t know. you didn’t know how tired he was. you didn’t know how hard he was pushing himself. you didn’t know how hard he was working. you didn’t know how close he was to breaking. nobody did, and he liked it that way. nobody wants to see their leader falter, or hesitate, or fail, so he didn’t let them.

while he didn’t like to make you wait, he especially didn’t like to make you worry, and he figured the best way to do that was to keep it all in. he was supposed to be an upstanding hero, worthy of admiration and inspiring greatness in all, but at the end of the day, your opinion of him mattered the most.

in his mind, he was supposed to be your hero. and he tried, with every fiber of his being, to be your everything.

he was supposed to keep you safe, not keep you up at night, wondering if this morning was the last time you’d get to kiss him goodbye. he’s supposed to come home to you, and he promised, even though he couldn’t be sure, that he would. he didn’t want to lie about that.

his lies are yellow. they’re made with hope of protecting you, with keeping you safe from the evil swirling through the world.

what you don’t know can’t hurt you, right?

...right?

they’re made with intentions filled with sunshine and his golden gaze when you’re supposed to be studying, but the temptation is too strong.

his intentions are filled with the colored pencils scattered on the floor of his dorm room from when you sketched each other for the first time.

they’re filled with honey coated love, first sweet and satisfying, but eventually leaving you with a sore throat. they leave you feeling his love, but also his lies.

and through it all, you still love him, maybe even to a fault.

even when he’s yellow.

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dccomicsimagines · 4 years

Text

Spilled Coffee - Wally West x Reader

Requested by Anon - Impulse accidentally knocks a girl over while running only for Wally to fall for her when he stops and helps her up and then tries his hardest to find her when he's not in uniform?

***

You shuffled out your front door and down the driveway. A warm cup of fresh coffee in your hand, filling your nose with it’s lovely, wide wake scent. Your overnight Amazon order had just been delivered, but the deliveryman left it at the end of the driveway. Personally, you didn’t see why they couldn’t at least leave it by the front door.

Taking a long sip from your cup, you bent down to pick up the package. You straightened before a car honk shattered the peaceful quiet of the day. A bright yellow and blue car sped down the street. “Come get me, Flash Boys,” a man in an orange and blue costume and a mask shouted out the window. The car skid into the turn, running into a few garbage cans on the way.

You jumped slightly before carefully steady your coffee. “Maniac.” You tucked your package under your arm and turned to go back to your house. However, after your first step, a gust of wind hit you. It was so powerful, you lost your balance and crashed hard onto the pavement.

Your coffee splashed onto you, burning your skin. “Shit.” You checked the package, which you landed on. It didn’t look damaged.

“Sorry about him. He never looks where he’s going,” a voice said. You looked up, wide eyed at the hand offered out to you. “Did that coffee burn you?”

“A bit.” You took the hand and got to your feet. “I didn’t break the cup at least.” Your body ached from the impact. You’ll have bruises tonight for sure. It took a moment before you noticed the red and yellow suit on the owner of the hand. “Is it Halloween?”

The red headed man chuckled. “No, I’m Kid Flash.” You stared at him blankly. “A superhero.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re wearing that?” You shook your head. “Well, thanks for helping me up.” You started toward your house with a limp. “Better go stop that guy.”

Kid Flash was still standing where you left him when you reached your front door. You raised an eyebrow at him. Suddenly, he shifted before disappearing in a flash. You sighed. “What a crazy day,” you mumbled, going inside to change out of your coffee stained clothes.

***

“Where were you?” Bart asked as he finished deconstructing Trickster's car, leaving Trickster in a state of shock. He sat on his car seat with a loose steering wheel in his hand. He threw the steering wheel with a scream of frustration.

“You knocked over a civilian.” Wally zoomed to tie up Trickster with a piece of extension cord. “I stopped to help.”

Bart shrugged. “Oops. Were they feeling the mode?”

“Yeah, but then they didn’t know who I was.” Wally stopped next to Bart.

Trickster laughed. “Not everybody knows you, Flash Boy. They only know the Flash.”

The cops pulled up. “Let’s go.” Bart elbowed Wally before dashing off. Wally sighed, following him. They both rushed out of their suits and into civvies. “Do you think we missed the surprise part of the party?”

“No, Uncle Barry is supposed to pick her up from work at five. He’s always late, so we should be good,” Wally chuckled as they both zoomed through the backdoor. Joan jumped, almost dropping the cake in surprise. Wally quickly caught it. “Sorry.”

“Boys.” Joan shook her head. “You almost missed it. Barry just texted that they were on their way home.” She took the cake back and glared at Bart in warning when he tried to steal some frosting. “Bartholomew, snack on something else.”

Bart blushed and zoomed off into the living room to find snacks. “Do you think it’s weird that someone doesn’t know who Kid Flash is?” Wally asked, crossing his arms. It bugged him. He used to hate it when he got called Speedy or Mini-Flash, but for someone to not even recognize him. You lived in Central City. How could you not know who he was?

“No.” Joan took the cake into the living room. Wally trailed behind her. “Not everyone is so into superheroes to know all your names.”

“But she lives in Central City? It’s our city,” Wally exclaimed. Mary came over and started to smooth out Wally’s hair. “Mom, stop it.”

“I don’t know why you can’t run a comb through your hair once and a while.” Mary shook her head.

Rudy clapped a hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Listen to your mother.”

Wally sighed. “But the entirety of Central City knows the Flash, thus they know Kid Flash. I mean it makes sense if no one knows who Bart is.”

“Ouch.” Bart pouted, eating a bag of Chicken Whizees. “I’m so crash they don’t have to know my name is Impulse.”

“They’re here, everyone quiet and hide,” Jay said, turning off the lights. Wally got pushed down by his dad. He grumbled, still obsessed with the idea you didn’t know who Kid Flash was.

***

“How does someone who lives in Central City not know who Kid Flash is?!” Wally said for the hundredth time that week. Dick rolled his eyes.

“Can you give it a rest? Who cares if she doesn’t know who Kid Flash was?” Dick landed a punch on a robber. Wally and Dick were having guys’ night out only to find robbery in progress.

Wally zoomed around another robber so fast that he got disoriented enough to back up and fall into the nearby trash can. “I care.” Wally stopped beside Dick once all the robbers were down.

“Cops are on their way. Let’s go.” Dick climbed out the window and landed on the street below. Wally dashed down the stairs and out the front door to join him. They both walked down the street, heading toward the new club they decided to check out. “You need to get turbed, dude. I mean we’re on a covert ops team. No one is supposed to know who we are.”

“People know who Robin is.” Wally threw his arms in the air. “There was even posters made of us. Remember Gar had them in his room.”

Dick stared at him blankly. “Walls, not everyone is obsessed with superheroes.”

“So? I mean it’s like not knowing who the president is.” Wally kicked a beer can down the sidewalk before picking it up and tossing it in a garbage can.

“There are a lot of people who prefer not to know who the president is.” Dick laughed. They joined the line into the club.

“What is this place anyway?” Wally tapped his foot, eyeing the bouncer somewhat nervously.

Dick shrugged. “It’s a new club. Plays live music every night.” He bumped Wally’s arm. “I heard the band playing tonight is awesome. Barbara recommended it.”

“Oh, Barbara recommended it?” Wally raised an eyebrow. “So is that working out for you two now?”

Dick bit his lips to hold back a smirk. “We’re not feeling the aster yet, but it’s getting close. I think she’s going to give me a chance.”

“Good for you, dude.” Wally smiled, bumping Dick’s arm back as they reached the front of the line. They showed their IDs to the bouncer and were let inside. The club was crowded. Dick led the way to the bar, getting two sober colas for himself and Wally. Wally took a sip of his drink and turned to look at the band as they warmed up.

Wally spit out his cola all over a few passing women. They gasped, glaring at him in disgust. “Walls, what the hell?” Dick exclaimed, flashing a smile at the women. They instantly didn’t seem so upset anymore. However, Wally’s eyes were on the stage. His heart pounding so hard, it threatened to burst from his chest.

“It’s her,” he whispered to Dick. His hand shook so bad, his cola was spilling on the floor. Dick took it from him and set it back on the bar. The bartender stared at the mess on the floor.

“Who?” Dick followed Wally’s gaze to the stage. “Which one?”

The singer took the mike. “Hello music lovers, are you ready for Laugh Track?” they shouted. The crowd screamed in response. Wally’s eyes stayed on you as you beat the tempo of the song on your drum set before the rest of the band joined in.

“She’s the drummer.” Wally raised his voice, not taking his eyes off you. Dick chuckled, shaking his head. Wally saw how skillful you were on the drums. He moved closer to the stage. Dick followed him, wanting a closer look himself.

Your face was a mask of intense concentration. Wally loved how confidently you played. The little smirk you got when you did your drum solo. Wally’s knees shook. He almost crumbled at the sight. In that instant, he knew you would rarely leave his thoughts again.

“Dude, you’re drooling.” Dick pulled Wally over to sit down at an empty table. Most of the crowd was on their feet, dancing and cheering for the band. Wally still didn’t take his eyes off you. You glanced up and met his eyes for a second. Time froze, the last note of the sound hung in the air. A real smile pulled at your lips. Wally grinned back at you.

Suddenly, time sped back up. The crowd was cheering loudly as you looked away from Wally. Wally moved to go to you, but Dick grabbed his arm. “Walls, you can’t go up there.” The band started their next song.

“But...” Wally looked back at you to find you focused back on the music, drumming away expertly. “Oh my god, she looked me! She smiled at me!”

Dick shook his head. “You’re hopeless,” he sighed as Wally focused back on you. However, Dick sensed he wasn’t done hearing about you for a long time.

***

“This sucks,” Wally groaned, collapsing on the floor of Roy Harper’s new house. The original team had come by to help him move in. Artemis stepped over him.

“You aren’t even doing anything.” Artemis rolled her eyes at him, box in hand.

Roy set baby Lian on Wally’s chest. “Hold the baby if you aren’t going to help.” He went back out to grab more boxes.

Kaldur and Conner came in with an armchair. “Wallace, we will step on you,” Kaldur warned . Wally sighed, scooting out of the way. Lian giggled happily, thinking it was a game.

“I haven’t been able to find her.” Wally looked at Lian who smiled at him sweetly. “I’ve looked up her band, Laugh Track, and all I found was a website for merch.”

“Oh, that’s why you’re wearing that.” Conner snorted, nodding at Wally’s bright colored shirt with Laugh Track spray painted across the front.

Wally glared at him. “I think it’s romantic,” M’gann said as she floated some boxes down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

“Or it’s creepy. You realize she’s probably going to think you’re a stalker or something.” Artemis smiled when Wally turned his glare onto her. Lian reached up to grab Wally’s bottom lip.

Dick and Roy came in with a coffee table. “I didn’t expect Ollie to buy me so much furniture for a housewarming gift,” Roy said as they set it down against the wall so it would be out of the way. Lian saw Roy and got excited enough to wet her diaper.

“Roy, she needs you.” Wally held her out, wrinkling his nose.

“You’re useless,” Roy said, coming over to take Lian and going to the bathroom to change her.

Wally groaned, bringing his knees to his chest. “I found the house where I first saw her this morning, but she’s not there anymore. I think they were renting it.”

Dick laughed, sitting down on the armchair Conner and Kaldur just brought in. “You know I could help you find her?” Dick jumped when Wally suddenly appeared beside him.

“Really? You will?!” His body vibrated in excitement. “Because that would be crash, dude!”

“Impulse rubbing off on him,” Conner grumbled to M’gann. M’gann kissed Conner’s cheek.

Kaldur chuckled. “Why did you wait until now to offer your assistance?” He sat down on the coffee table. Artemis came up to offer him a water bottle.

Dick snorted. “I wanted to see how long it would take him to ask.”

“Oh, thanks for waiting, Dick, so we could all hear Wally whine and complain,” Artemis said, rolling her eyes.

“You’re welcome.” Dick smirked at her, earning a sharp punch in the arm from Artemis. Wally sat back on the floor, lost in his excitement at finally being able to meet you as Wally West. Who cared if you didn’t know who Kid Flash was? It wasn’t like you couldn’t learn.

“What the hell is this? I go change Lian’s diaper and you all stop.” Roy came out of the bathroom with blazing eyes. Lian laughed. Her cuteness threw off his threatening appearance. “We’re renting that moving truck by the hour.”

“I thought Green Arrow was paying for it,” Conner said.

Roy froze as if he suddenly remembered that little fact. “Well, in that case.” He sat down next to Kaldur and handed Lian over to M’gann. “What’s the gossip? Is Wally going bald?”

“Hey!” Wally grabbed a throw pillow from one of the boxes and threw it at Roy’s head. “I have all my hair, thank you very much. It’s you that getting a dad bod.” More pillows were thrown, and for a day, it was almost like old times back during the first year of the team.

***

You sighed, picking up your book as you sat on your stool behind the drum set. The singer and the bassist were arguing again. The bassist had written a new song, and the singer was adding their own flare to it. It was a mess as usual. The keyboardist laid down to take a nap on the floor while the guitarist went outside for a smoke break.

About a chapter or two later, they finally came to an agreement. You put your bookmark in, and picked up your drumsticks. The new song was interesting to say the least.

The club wasn’t open yet. Only the bartender and the manager were there, preparing for the night. The band decided to practice while you could since you were all playing this club for the week. It was a chance to try something new and see how the crowd responds, your manager said.

Speaking of your manager, they burst through the stage door like their pants were on fire. “Hold the practice. You need to save your energy for tonight. We got some record companies coming to listen.”

You sighed as the band stopped mid song. “Oh my god, I have to go get my hair done,” the singer cried, knocking over their mike and going on their phone to find the closest hair salon. The keyboardist just laid back down on the floor, while the guitarist went back out for another smoke break. The bassist ran up to your manager, chatting away.

Putting your book and drumsticks in your bag, you got up to leave. A cup of coffee would be good. You didn’t get a lot of sleep last night due to sharing a room with the guitarist who snored like a fog horn.

You left out of the club’s back door and used your phone to find the nearest coffee shop. “Where are you going?” the guitarist asked, blowing smoke into your path. You wrinkled your nose, walking through it.

“I’m going for some coffee. Want some?” You stopped a little ways away to avoid breathing in the cigarette smoke.

“Yeah, you know what I like.” They took out their wallet and handed you a ten. “Bring me a snack too, will ya?”

“Sure.” You took the ten and stuffed it in your pocket. “Don’t tell everyone else. I don’t want to get five coffees again.”

They snorted. “Yeah, I still haven’t gotten the coffee stain off my shirt yet.” The blood rushed to your face, but you laughed it off and walked out of the alley to the street.

Luckily, you found a coffee shop two blocks away. You ordered your drink first and sat down to read your book in one of the cozy armchairs. Your drink sat on the table next to you. Time slipped away from you before you heard the table fall. You jumped, protecting your book as your coffee crashed to the floor. It splashed everything. “What the hell?”

“Sorry.” A familiar looking red headed man quickly grabbed napkins to mop up some of the mess. “I’m such a klutz.”

“It’s okay.” A employee came over with a mop and a wash cloth. The man turned to you. Your eyes went to his t-shirt, remembering the design your band had picked out for it. “Oh, are you a fan of Laugh Track?”

He blushed. “Yeah, I heard them play a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t get their music out of my head.” He held out his hand. “My name is Wally.”

“(Y/N).” You gave him a tight smile and shook his hand. It felt familiar, but you didn’t know how. “I guess I better get another coffee.”

“Oh no, I’ll buy it for you. It’s my fault.” Wally smiled and suddenly you lost yourself in his green eyes for a moment. “What’s your poison?”

You laughed, getting up with your book and bag in hand. “How about I order it while you pay?” The two of you went to the counter, chatting away like you knew each other for your entire lives.

Meanwhile, Dick and Barbara watched from a small table in the corner. “I can’t believe he purposely spilled her coffee. That’s a sin,” Barbara whispered, giggling away.

“I know, but it broke the ice didn’t it?” Dick took a sip of Barbara’s coffee. She glared at him, but he flashed her a charming smile and the glare faded away.

“At least she didn’t think he was a stalker.” Barbara snorted, stealing a sip of Dick’s coffee in retaliation.

“Artemis will be upset about that. She bet me twenty that Wally would get punched in the face.” Dick and Barbara watched as you and Wally sat back down with fresh coffee. Wally looked happier than he had been in a long time. Dick smiled before he turned his full attention to Barbara.

#wally west x reader #wally west #wally west imagine #kid flash #kid flash x reader #kid flash imagine #young justice #young justice imagines #yj imagine #dc comics imagines #dc reader insert

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eldragon-x · 3 years

Note

and finally Mr. Wilfre DrawnToLife

my beloved!!

favorite thing about them: He works so well as a morally grey villain.

(major spoilers for the first two Drawn to Life games below)

He starts out finding it unfair that only the Creator and no Raposa is allowed to draw into the Book of Life and accidentally creates monsters while attempting to draw his own creations. His way to villainy, I'd argue, started when he already fucked up with the village and realized how much power he possesses with some of the remains of the book still at his hand. You could argue the reason for him to cover the world in shadow was maybe that he wanted to proove that he could be just as powerful as the Creator only with the help of the book. Then in the second game, he steals color across the world with the intend to keep Mike in his coma so the Raposa world, that became part of his subconsciousness, wouldn't vanish upon him waking up.

Overall, he sees the Creator as an unfair creature (not allowing the Raposa to add their own creations to their world, valuing the life of one human over those of every Raposa) and has understandable motives, but still is a villainous character and generally acts like an asshole.

In summary:

least favorite thing about them: I... do not like the implication that the shadow corrupted Wilfre to become the way he is. It would make him a lot less interesting and three-dimensional as a character. It technically isn't canon thank the creator but there was a cut dialouge for the first game that would've confirmed that and seeing how Two Realms hints at a Wilfre redemption combined with the game establishing that shadows infuence peoples' feelings and thoughts, I'm extremely worried.

Let Wilfre have done his actions on purpose and fully aware of it. Let him have views and opinions and his grudge against the Creator. He can have a redemption if it's done well but please, if there will be a sequel to Two Realms, don't take this away from him

favorite line: None in particular but I like the part in TNC where he speaks to the Creator

brOTP: I always headcanoned that he used to be close friends with the Mayor. Before uh, fucking shit up.

OTP: Okay listen for some reason? Drewfre is pretty popular in the fandom. Drew is the "canon" Creation Hero, who was sent by the Creator to help the Raposa in times of crisis, which usually also includes defeating Wilfre. And since Drew is the player character which can have any name and design, they don't have much of a canon personality but for some reason we (as in the dtl fandom) just decided that he's like "I Can Fix Him" towards Wilfre and they're enemies to lovers.

nOTP: him being shipped with Mari or Jowee who are both significantly younger than him

random headcanon: Wilfre is actually the only Raposa who is able to draw and improve his art! Normally, Raposa can draw in a messy, childish style at best which adds up with the Creator, basically being their god, drawing everything that exists into their world. Having the ability to draw would mean having the ability to create anything in their world. For unknown reasons, Wilfre was able to work on and improve his drawing skills and enjoyed being an artist all his life! Tho it was very pressuring as some Raposa believed he was something like an angel and destined to do something great while others considered him a sinner for practicing art. If the Creator actually had plans with him, they sure backfired lmao

unpopular opinion: None, a huge part of the fandom loves him as I do

song i associate with them: Ready As I'll Ever Be gives me strong Wilf vibes

favorite picture of them:

This one for the simple reason that it's the only official artwork of non-shadow Wilfre, outside of sprites. The fandom actually makes more content of non-shadow Wilfre than the creators lmao

#dtl #wilfre tag

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anotherkpopvictim · 4 years

Text

Respected and Loved - NamKook Littlespace Drabble

(Gif source - me)

“Anonymous asked: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Jungkook-centric littlespace AU. I was wondering if his main caregiver could be Namjoon hyung. Panic attacks and angst with fluff and happiness at the end would be great.”

A/N: I know that I took longer to post it than I originally planned, but I realized that posting it for Kook’s birthday would be perfect so I hope it was worth the wait! Also, I really liked the JinKook idea you gave me as well, I might work on it for a while and post that for Jin’s birthday in December.

Anyways, enjoy! And Happy Birthday to the one and only Jeon Jungkook <3

Pairing: Little!Jungkook X Caregiver!Namjoon

Rating: T (swearing, panic attack)

Words: 2923

Hurt/comfort, fluff

WARNING: There is a pretty detailed panic attack, so if that triggers you at all, please do not read this fic.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

It was obvious to anyone and everyone with eyes that Jeon Jungkook admired and respected his Namjoon-hyung. Between the doe eyes staring up at the older like he hung the stars in the sky and the way Jungkook’s bratty behavior immediately stopped whenever Namjoon scolded him, the other members figured it out within about 0.2 seconds of knowing them both.

The thing was...Jungkook never just admired and respected his hyung. He loved him. Jungkook loved Namjoon. He didn’t know that he was in love back when they were trainees and fighting tooth and nail to be able to debut. He was too young back then to understand the pounding of his heart when his hyung was around or the way he felt like he simultaneously couldn’t breathe around Namjoon and could only breathe when he was around. It was love, though, as he grew to understand.

Alas, Namjoon never seemed to quite realize just how much he meant to their beloved maknae. For someone with an IQ of 148, he sure was oblivious when it came to Jungkook’s feelings for him.

One night a few months following their Danger promotions, the maknae line had gathered together for a sleepover. The three laid cuddled together in the bed, lights off for the night, and whispers of hesitant secrets filling the air between them.

“Jungkook,” Jimin looked at him seriously, “You love him, don’t you? Namjoon-hyung?”

And Jungkook turned as red as a tomato, stuttering over his next words. “As a h-hyung? Of course I love him.”

“What about as a lover, Kookie?” Jimin continued, not for a second buying into the younger’s act.

Taehyung, looking adorably confused, turned to Jungkook with questioning eyes. Now the maknae was trapped between his two hyungs’ gazes and bodies, unable to lie.

“Y-Yeah,” he managed out in something of a squeak. “Yeah, I love him.”

That was the first time Jungkook ever admitted it to anyone or even out loud. Seokjin was next to ask him about it, followed by Yoongi and finally Hoseok.

So, literally everyone in the group knew that Jungkook was in love with Namjoon for years and Namjoon himself still didn’t have a single clue, or if he did, he was hiding it extremely well.

Even as they got older, as Jungkook found out about littlespace, as everyone accidentally found out Jungkook was a little, as the leader became Jungkook’s unofficial main caregiver, Namjoon still didn’t realize.

Honestly, Jungkook came to the conclusion that he never would. That Jungkook would have to take his feelings to the grave with him. It wasn’t like he was ever going to confess himself, considering how timid and anxiety-ridden he was.

So, when the leader finally did find out about Jungkook’s feelings, it came as a shock to both of them.

The day was like any other and Jungkook hadn’t the slightest suspicion that his secret was going to be revealed.

He was in the dance studio with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jimin, goofing off even if they probably should have been practicing. They were playing a game of choosing a random song and having someone freestyle dance to it.

Jimin was the first to go, and when Hoseok put on a super bright girl group song, Jimin didn’t hesitate to go full-on with the choreography and cute actions. He basked in the cheers he received from the others.

Hoseok took the floor next and got into a starting stance. Seokjin grinned smugly in his direction before putting on possibly the saddest song ever. It was a song in English so they didn’t understand all of the lyrics, but they understood enough that it made them laugh when Hoseok began his popping routine anyways. The song and the dance didn’t match in the slightest, which was what made them all lose it, really.

Seokjin took his turn confidently and listened for the beginning notes of whatever song Jungkook was going to play.

The maknae took a moment to think of a good song and grinned once he thought of one.

A heavy bass and EDM beat filled the room, a song that Jungkook knew Hoseok would be amazing at freestyling to.

Seokjin nodded before cracking his knuckles and then breaking into a complicated dance routine filled with all of the most famous, cheesy dance moves in it. He started with a slick Moonwalk, followed by the Chicken Dance, the Carlton, and the Shopping Cart.

The three dancers were on the floor laughing their asses off when Jin confidently hit the Mashed Potato and the Lawnmower before finishing off his performance with the Gangnam Style dance and the Bus Driver.

It took a good few minutes after Jin’s spectacular performance for them to gather themselves back together. Jungkook finally wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes and took the stage.

Jimin gave him a smirk before he pressed play on the song he’d chosen.

A deep, obviously sensual song began playing through the dance studio, making the maknae roll his eyes.

Shrugging off his initial hesitance, Jungkook decided to put on a show for his hyungs. He started off with grinding on the floor like they did in their Blood Sweat & Tears dance, followed by numerous hip thrusts and body rolls incorporated into smooth choreography.

Hoseok and Seokjin were hollering and whistling, hyping the maknae up in his performance. Jimin could only think about how ARMYs would die if they had the chance to see this dance, even if it was only a joke.

Jungkook finished his performance, panting and sweating from the workout.

“Dang, JK!” Seokjin exclaimed, bringing a nice, cool water bottle over to the maknae.

As the youngest chugged the drink thankfully, Hoseok waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Is that the dance you want to perform for Namjoon?”

Jungkook promptly choked on the water.

Jimin snorted, “Do you think Namjoon would finally figure out Jungkook’s feelings for him if he did?”

“W-What?”

The new voice startled the four of them, all turning towards the door to the dance studio, where none other than Kim Namjoon himself stood. He had wide eyes and his jaw dropped slightly, blush creeping up his cheeks.

Jungkook’s heart fell to his stomach. Had his hyung seen what he’d just done? Had he heard what the others said? Judging by the look on his face, yes, yes he did.

Everything was silent in the normally chaotic dance studio, Namjoon trying to process the information he’d just been given, and the other three trying to find a way to explain what they’d just accidentally revealed.

Jungkook’s mouth felt dry and full of cotton, his heartbeat the only thing he could really hear pounding in his ears.

The maknae tore out the back door to the studio before any of them could even think to stop him. He ran through the company hallways until he reached the front door and then he ran some more.

Namjoon knew. Namjoon knew.

Despite the fact that Jungkook wanted his hyung to know, now that it was happening it was all just too much for him to handle.

What if his hyung hated him now or was disgusted with him? Jungkook felt his stomach twist into knots at the thought.

Jungkook ran and ran and ran. His lungs were aching for breath and vision was blurry from his tears, but he never once stopped.

Then he internally gasped. What if everything was ruined now, and the whole band was going to have to break up because of his stupid feelings? Jungkook would never, could never let that happen, but to keep the peace between the other members he’d probably have to leave the group himself.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!”

The maknae vaguely heard the voice calling after him as he ran, but it was overrun by his self-deprecating thoughts.

The sound of car horns honking loudly brought him back to the present and Jungkook realized he was in the middle of a road and while other vehicles had managed to stop for him in time, there was one dark-colored car that was heading straight for him.

“Jungkook!”

There was a harsh yank on Jungkook’s arm and he managed to stumble out of the way of the car as it came to a screeching halt. The vehicle would have hit him if he’d stayed in that spot. It wasn’t going fast enough to have killed him, but he definitely would have broken some bones.

The maknae looked around him in a shocked daze that didn’t feel at all like reality. Now safely on the sidewalk, he looked up to see Namjoon standing there with his arms around Jungkook tightly.

“Jungkook, oh my god, that was so close!” Namjoon was rambling under his breath. The man raised his hands to Jungkook’s face and inspected it. “Are you hurt?”

Jungkook shook his head, not being able to find any words in his shocked state.

Taking a deep breath, Namjoon pulled out a black mask matching the one he had on himself and slipped it onto the maknae’s face. “Let’s get you out of here before someone recognizes you. I think we need to talk, Jungkook-ah.”

The two of them took a car back to their dorm because apparently Jungkook had gotten impossibly far in his race to get away from his problems. They didn’t speak while the manager drove them back, but Namjoon held onto Jungkook’s hand firmly.

Jungkook was still so shell-shocked from his almost car accident that everything went by in a haze. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the couch in their dorm with a blanket wrapped around him and a cup of water in his hands.

Namjoon sat down beside him and set a hand on the maknae’s shoulder. “Kook-ah, can you look at me please?”

And Jungkook couldn’t say no to his hyung, had never been able to, so he raised his watery eyes and looked his hyung in the face.

The leader’s expression was concerned but calm. He gave a gentle smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so scared when you took off like that...and when that car almost...” he trailed off.

“‘M sorry,” Jungkook croaked, his throat still feeling tight and dry from his panic attack.

Namjoon shook his head, “No...no. You don’t need to apologize. Just...you can’t run away like that when you’re scared. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Jungkook nodded. “Me neither. I’ll try to do better.”

Namjoon sighed and started hesitantly, “So...you have feelings for me?”

The maknae’s breath hitched again and he could feel the panic attack that had settled slightly come back full force. His whole body began shaking with the effort to breathe and his heartbeat was racing in his chest.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, it’s okay! It’s okay!” Namjoon hurried to say. He grabbed the maknae by the arms and tried to get him to look into his eyes. “Don’t panic again, baby, please.”

“D-Don’t hate Kookie, please Daddy!” Jungkook slipped into littlespace without any warning. “’M sorry, ‘m sorry!” he sobbed.

“Daddy could never hate you, baby,” Namjoon replied, desperation in his voice. “I-I love you, Kookie. I’ve loved you for years.”

Jungkook stopped breathing completely for a moment. “W-What?”

Namjoon sighed and hung his head. “I never told anyone and I tried my best to hide it. I never even thought you could love me back.”

Jungkook had so much he wanted to say, needed to say, but for a few minutes, he had to regain control over his breathing. Namjoon helped him by breathing deeply with him and running his hand through his hair soothingly.

“Y-You love K-Kookie?”

The leader smiled shyly, “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“Daddy loves Kookie,” Jungkook repeated under his breath in awe. Then he broke into an ecstatic grin. “Daddy loves Kookie!”

Namjoon couldn’t help but smile back at the younger’s cuteness. “That’s right, baby.”

Jungkook scooted over until he was seated in the older man’s lap. “Kookie loves Daddy.”

Namjoon let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as a breathy chuckle. “That’s so good to hear, baby.”

A light bulb went off in Jungkook’s head and he looked at the older with a shy blush on his cheeks. “K-Kookie made something for you.”

The maknae jumped off of Namjoon’s lap and ran down the hallway to his room. When he returned, he had a large piece of paper in his hand and was pulling his lip nervously between his teeth. Then he shut his eyes tightly and thrust the arm with the paper out in Namjoon’s direction.

Trying to fight a coo at the younger’s cute shyness, Namjoon took the paper and turned it over to see what it was. His breath hitched in his throat.

It was a picture drawn in crayons, obviously done by Little Kookie as he didn’t have as much artistic talent as his older headspace. There were two figures in the middle that appeared to be holding each other with smiles on their faces. Above their heads in speech bubbles were the words ‘I love you’. Behind the two figures were five others who were clapping happily.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two figures in front were Namjoon and Jungkook, and the others in the back were their best friends. The maknae had portrayed all of their hair colors and styles pretty accurately. The picture was so sweet that the leader actually had to fight back some tears.

“This...this is beautiful, baby.” he managed out.

Jungkook finally reopened his eyes and looked at the older man with hope. “Really? Daddy likes it?”

Namjoon chuckled and reached out to run a hand through the maknae’s hair before pulling him back into his lap. “Daddy loves it.” Then he furrowed his brow in thought. “When did you draw this, though? I’m usually the one with you when you’re in littlespace.”

“TaeTae-hyungie and Jinnie-hyungie took care of Kookie when Daddy was at work one day,” the younger explained. “Kookie was really sad and he missed Daddy lots, so TaeTae said Kookie should draw a picture for Daddy.”

“Well, it’s a wonderful picture,” Namjoon praised, kissing the younger’s cheeks in thanks.

The two of them sat curled up together on the couch for hours. Namjoon rubbed the maknae’s back soothingly and the younger tucked his head comfortably into his hyung’s neck.

At one point, Namjoon got up and retrieved Jungkook’s Iron Man blanket and red pacifier from the bedroom. When he returned to the living room with them, the younger’s eyes widened and he made grabby hands at them.

They settled together again and Namjoon turned on Spongebob Squarepants on the television, though neither of them were really giving their full attention to it.

Their peace was disturbed when the front door burst open and their five bandmates piled into the room. The sudden noise startled both of them, Jungkook’s pacifier falling from his mouth as it opened in surprise.

Seokjin was the first one to get to them, his eyes wide with worry. “Sejin-hyung just told us about Kookie’s almost accident. Is everything okay?”

Hoseok was next to him in a second. “Oh god, Kookie, I’m so sorry I told your secret and caused you to run off like that. I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“Kookie’s okay,” Jungkook answered genuinely. “And Hobi-hyungie don’t have to say sorry, Kookie isn’t mad or sad about it.”

Hoseok looked relieved and gave the maknae a kiss on the top of his head.

“So...” Jimin looked between the two on the couch pointedly. “Did you guys talk at all?”

Jungkook broke into a big bunny grin that had them all clutching at their hearts in fondness. “Yeah! Guess what Jiminie-hyungie? Daddy loves Kookie too!”

Everyone looked at their leader with happy, slightly surprised eyes. “Really?” Jimin questioned with a smile.

Namjoon felt his face and neck flush sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve loved Kookie for a few years but I had no idea he loved me too. Did...did all of you know how Jungkook felt about me?”

The five of them nodded.

“We’ve known for a few years,” Taehyung admitted.

“Yeah, it didn’t take us very long to figure it out,” Yoongi added. “We didn’t know how you felt, though.”

Namjoon sighed, “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“IQ 148 my ass.”

“We been knew.”

“Hey!” Jungkook scowled adorably at his hyungs. “Don’t be mean to Daddy! And don’t say bad words!”

Almost immediately, all of them mimicked zipping their lips closed and throwing away the key. Damn, all of BTS really were whipped for their maknae.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way,” Yoongi stepped up closer and put his hands on his hips, expression serious. “We need to talk about Jungkook running off today and almost getting hit by a car.”

Jungkook groaned, ashamed, and buried his head back into Namjoon’s neck. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about this again.

The leader started rubbing his back again and turned to the others. “Leave him be. I already spoke with him about it and he said he’ll try not to run next time. I think the car almost hitting him was a big reality check.”

Jungkook smiled into the older man’s neck as he heard his other hyungs grumbling and pouting. Namjoon always knew exactly what he needed.

Jungkook loved Namjoon so much.

And Namjoon loved Jungkook just as much back.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: Phew, that’s the end. More angst than I originally planned for but oh well. Let me know what you thought of it!!

#bts #bts little space #bts littlespace #bts drabble #bts drabbles #bts fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfiction #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts jungkook #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #bts namkook #namkook

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Between the Lines, pt II

Here is part two to @anianimol ‘s Ukai Breeding Kink request—literally 70% of this particular portion is smut. Please proceed with caution if you are uncomfortable with the following:

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

“I could make it worse.” Ukai Keishin did not like the sound of that in the slightest. He was already going well over the speed limit on the freeway and praying to the gods above that he wouldn’t get pulled over and—

The widespread panic that was bleeding into his veins stopped entirely when he feels the button to his jeans being freed.

“Are you insane?!” The blonde snarls, though he cannot deny the fact that his lust is now at full speed ahead with a brick on the gas pedal. [name] says nothing in response—only teases him further by unzipping his pants and running her fingernails over his boxer-clad half-hard cock while he’s fighting to focus on getting back home. Keishin squeezes the steering wheel with both hands tightly, the skin over his knuckles turning white as she frees his length only to re-capture it in her mouth. The warmth welcomes him entirely, sweetly, and it’s sending his mind into a lust-laden frenzy.

As soon as the two of them exit the freeway, they’re stopped at a light. Ukai takes the opportunity to adjust his jeans to give [name] more room to work because there was absolutely no fighting this now. Not with the way her hand is wrapped around the base of cock just to hold it upright while she swallows the entirety of his length and girth. At this point, she’s literally praising it, worshipping even, with her attentive tongue; lapping at every centimeter of skin, laving at the prominent veins, suckling on the tip to coerce his pre-cum.

“Ah, fuck,” Ukai hisses when his tip hits the back of her throat. They were almost back to his apartment above the Sakanoshita store—he could hold on for just five more minutes. He hoped. Though it was proving difficult with pleased gargles rumbling in her throat as she repeatedly swallowed every goddamn inch of his dick. Keishin can’t help but breathe heavy, trying to make sure he’s keeping oxygen going to his brain because fuck he can’t think straight right now. Not with the way this angelic creature had been taking him whole. It’s taking everything in him to not thrust his hips to meet with her lips, because he knows once he starts, he’s going to accidentally end up slamming on the gas pedal. Literally. “Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

“Good thing I’m thirsty,” [name] responds, hardly missing a beat as she pulls away briefly to supply her sassy remark. Immediately returning to the task at hand, she relaxes her throat walls to relentlessly swallow every single inch until her face is pressing into his stomach and she chokes down his seed. For some reason, it doesn’t surprise him in the slightest when she greedily swallows every drop while simultaneously coercing the rest from his tip. It does funny things to Keishin, seeing this beautiful ray of sunlight so hungry, so desperate for him, and it turns on all the switches to his filthiest desires.

“Open your mouth princess,” he croons, affectionately rubbing at her messy locks, “I wanna make sure you swallowed all of it.” [name] sticks out her puffy tongue, saying ‘ahh’ for emphasis, while he looks down for a hasty inspection. “Good girl,” he offers almost endearingly when she passes.

The second he pulls in to his drive way, Ukai threads his calloused fingers into her locks and pulls her lips desperately to his to taste the mix of them on her tongue. Despite the unsavory act, he gives her an enthusiastic kiss with one hand cupping her cheek and constant back and forth spit swapping because, damn it all, she made him feel things he thought long died. Desperation, depravity, desire—all of those feelings were reignited in Ukai and it was all her fault. But he doesn’t care that there’s more than sexual tension in their motions—he wants it that way. Their kiss rather sweet, loving even, as if to tell her this was more than lust and that he hoped [name] felt that too.

Or as if to act as a premature apology for the things he was going to do to her.

The week of unintentional teasing certainly served its purpose, [name] mused somewhere between the lines. It had worked out better than she’d ever dreamed of, and those were often recurring wet dreams, no less.

She had always pictured Keishin to be a rough lover but she’d never expected him to be as filthy as this. The bare man behind her had her face pressing into a pillow as he rammed into her sensitive hole, unabashedly howling his own salacious fantasies. There was not a single curse word in any collective lexicon that hadn’t left his mouth tonight and goddammit it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

“Oh, fuck yeah, you’re taking me so well kid,” he grits out, giving a particularly hard thrust because he wants to keep hearing her scream every time his dick drags along her walls, “this everything you’ve been dreaming about, kid? Been dreaming about my fucking cock stuffing your pussy?”

The dirty talk sends electrical pulses from her ears down [name]’s spine—who knew that words alone could bring her so close to orgasm? But she can’t find words of her own at the moment. The only comprehensible sounds coming to her mind are throaty moans and pants and weak screams as Keishin grabs her by the wrists to force her hips to meet with his. But it’s not enough that he’s all but reaming her, no. He yanks her back even further until her chest is sticking out and her head is thrown back unintentionally to look up at him as he pounds her.

She’s beautiful, he muses internally, even with her eyes nearly shut in depravity and drool running down the corner of her mouth and repeated, mindless babble of approval of the way he was fucking her. She was so goddamn beautiful and he was going to make her his in every sense of the word.

Overwhelmed with the sight, Keishin adjusts his grip so that one of his hands holds her in place while the other cups her jaw and gingerly brings her closer to kiss her.

He loves kissing her, he learned rather quickly.

Even the smallest shift in their position cause Ukai to prod at different spot within her core, forcing [name] to clamp down on his length. “Ooh, right there, baby?” But she can only nod when he makes it a point to make sure he’s hitting that same area over and over. “Yeah? You’re squeezing me so fucking hard, you’re gonna make me cum. You want my cum, princess?”

Good god, [name] could just listen to him talk and she could get off.

She can’t help her clenching core, not with the way Keishin is smacking his hips into hers like a piston or the way his cock starts twitching as he falls over the dam of his own orgasm. “Oh fuck yeah, princess. Take my cum like a good girl, baby, fuck.” His words stifle and give way to his labored breathing until he physically can’t even let out a sound—a telltale sign that he should probably slow down before he passes out.

[name] collapses chest down onto the bed as soon as Ukai lets go of her wrists; her back rising and falling as she attempts to catch her own breath. Ukai is doing much of the same, though he’s sitting on his haunches while staring out the window as the morning sun filters in. What time was it anyway?

As soon as he feels like his legs aren’t numb anymore, he hovers over the side of the bed in search of his cell phone before moving to rest his back against his headboard—it was only seven right now, meaning the store wouldn’t open for another two hours. Momentarily Ukai is grateful it’s as early as it is because that means his mother wasn’t downstairs listening to him essentially impregnate someone. But even more so, he’s grateful to see the way the rising sun reflects the sheen of sweat on [name]’s back. It made her glow even more than the glitter she wore on her cheeks when she was out for the night or disco lights shining off her pearly whites.

She’s so fucking beautiful, he thinks again, and he doesn’t realize he’s staring at her until he deciphers the [eye color]ed orbs staring back at him. A part of her wants to say something, probably the reason she was opening and closing her mouth, but words just don’t come out. What would she even say if she had a voice right now? She can’t say she loves him because that’s just weird and too clingy, nor can she say thank you because that’s even weirder—

“C’mere.” Ukai murmurs softly, patting at his bare chest. [name] quirks a brow, which prompts the former to give a roll of his honey brown eyes, before reaching for one of her wrists and hoisting her up to rest on him. When her head nestles along his collar bone, he wraps one arm tightly around her waist and presses a chaste kiss into her sweaty hair. It’s a delicate, wholesome moment that Ukai thought he’d never get the chance to share with anyone for awhile, let alone with a club patron or an ex of one of his club members.

It’s a tender, loving moment in which he takes advantage of the opportunity to ask the questions that had been gnawing at him for the last several days.

“Cardboard Swords,” he says as gently and as firmly as he’s holding her.

“Huh?”

“I wanted to ask you earlier, but it kinda didn’t seem appropriate at the time.” It’s not a full question by any means, but she understands the syntax well enough.

“And you think after emptying a second load in me is more appropriate?” She jokes, causing the man that’s holding her to groan because he knows. He doesn’t fall for bullshit and he knows that question was just [name] deflecting. “Fine, fine. Um, Flannel was mine and Suga’s break up song. I figured you could tell that much.” She concedes temporarily, shifting uncomfortably in his arms. Why does he even want to know this, she wonders. But she remembers clear as day him asking what Sugawara did to make her be the dull person she was back in high school, versus the firecracker on the Fourth of July that she was now. She figured she at least owed him some form of reprieve considering he satiated her high school and current fantasies.

Well, one of them anyway.

And while she remained quiet, Keishin’s analytical mind is hard at work recounting the memory of her lips moving along to every line. The thing that the DJ loves the most about music is that he can tell when a beat or a line hits close to home by how loud their expression is. His mind starts piecing things together based off of context and evidence and [name] can tell by the way his breathing begins to quicken that he just might be onto something.

“It’s fine. We went our separate ways after graduating. He did his thing, I did my thing.” She says to quell his steadily rising anxiety. Though she was unsure why it was beginning to crest, considering he hadn’t vocalized his personal deductions. Part of her wondered if he got it right, part of her doesn’t even care because Sugawara doesn’t matter to her anymore.

“And your thing is hanging out at a dingy club every night?”

“Hey, don’t call my aunt’s club dingy.”

“Your what?! Family friend, my ass!” This girl was going to be the death of him, he decides. Because now it made so much more sense of how she vaguely knew of his schedule (not that it was necessarily damning evidence), or why she was there in the first place and as often, or why she knew where Bevelle lived off the back of her hand. But shit, that just means he slept with his boss’s niece who is eight years his junior and—

“Dude, relax,” [name] stresses the command, pinching the nipple closest to her to pull Ukai from his reverie. “How do you think you got the job in the first place, coach? Though, aunt ‘Velle only showed me your application—she made the initial decision to offer you the job. I didn’t realize it was you that took the name Spira.” His mind is piecing more things together and he’s starting to learn to hate that his mind does that.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were gonna fuck me—“ Ukai lets out a noise, a hybrid noise between annoyance and embarrassment before rolling over to trap [name] between his bed and himself. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, doesn’t want to think about it because the more he does, the deeper hole he digs for himself.

“I’d do it again, too. If you’ll let me.” Regardless of the strange sense of shame and irritation he felt, Keishin’s voice came out rather soft. Probably because he knew were it not for [name]’s meddling and the string of circumstances, she wouldn’t be here with him right now. In a weird sense, he’s grateful—grateful for the way she answers with her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him flush against her, bringing his lips to hers once again.

“Will you, though?” She asks after they break for a breather. [name] can’t help the question from leaving her lungs as much as she doesn’t want to think about what comes after this. And Keishin understands the query that’s hidden in between the lines and he’s unsure if he’s ready to verbalize his answer. So rather than putting it into words, his lips cover hers once again.

It’s much sweeter than the others—it’s gingerly and warm, softer than powdered sugar, and for a moment the two of them are enveloped in their moment together. But it’s not enough for Ukai, not in the slightest. Not with the way he’s overwhelmed with the need to chase this profound sense of urgency to stake his claim.

It’s not enough even with his mouth meandering further down her jaw and her neck, leaving little bites and bruises in his wake. It’s not enough in the way his tongue parts her labia and massages the inner walls of her core or suckles down her clit until she’s screaming once again. It’s not enough even when he slides his dick in one more time and is welcomed with the warmth of home.

Ukai is torn with the dichotomy of wanting to be rough with [name], wanting to smack his hips and drive his cock far enough in her that she has bruises around her opening and on her uterus, and absolutely letting every truth fly off his tongue. But his body decides for him in the way he lurches over her bucking body, one hand cradling her jaw with his thumb brushing over her bruised lips.

“Keishin...” [name] calls out in a strangled song, “h-harder, please!”

Her cries break his final thread of sanity.

“Yeah, you want more princess?” He grits out. His free hand traces patterns down her stomach before honing in on her clit, frantically circling at the bundle of nerves and driving his length in her cunt to match. [name] gave an innate squeeze at the sudden added stimulation, ready for her orgasm to wash over her once again. “You’re squeezing me so fucking good, baby. You want my cum?”

“P-please, cum inside me.” The subtle pleas shred every fiber of his control. Keishin releases his grip on both her clit and her jaw, hands scooping under her hips to angle her upward to find her pressure point once again. Leave it to this guy to be able to find it with ease after only one trial run. “Oh fuck, Keishin!”

“Fuck yes, baby, you want my cum? Want me to fill you up again? You’re just begging me to fuck a baby into you, aren’t you?” [name] clenched with a death grip, her subconscious going into overload. She’d never admit out loud that she’d fantasized about marrying the DJ and having a family with him maybe once or twice. Or every other week. She’d take that secret to the grave.

And while Keishin didn’t necessarily mean for his words to come out the way they did, he found himself unbothered by it all. Because he wants to know more, wants to have more than this one night with [name]. It only made it a thousand times better knowing she was getting off to his private kink, swallowing his cock whole to coax his seed to spill. “Aw, fuck yeah, gonna breed you like my own little whore,” he grits out, hips stuttering as his dick twitches, spurting his cum within her walls once again.

“Fuck a baby into me, huh?” [name] laughs after Keishin collapses on top of her, panting heavily to catch his breath.

“Sorry, was that too much?” She only laughs once more in response.

“Nah, that was perfect.”

Perfect was the only way to describe the way Keishin felt about [name], even a year later after their first night together. Sex aside, because that was perfection in its own right, the relationship that had bloomed between the two of them was everything the coach had been waiting for. The envy he had once felt for his fellow DJs for seizing the opportunity to sleep with other club patrons had subsided entirely considering Ukai had gotten the creme de la creme.

[name] now owned the club.

Bevelle, her aunt and the woman that initially hired Keishin a few years back, had been prepping and grooming [name] since she graduated high school to take over her business so that Bevelle could move on to new ventures. The night she started learning the ins and outs of running the club was the very same night Ukai had come in as a guest with the neighborhood association.

Apparently offering him a job was supposed to be a joke, but Bevelle knew something was strange with the way her niece was hyper-fixated on the blonde volleyball coach. Nobody knew things were going to turn out as well as they did.

Ukai finally stopped tending to the farm after five years of dedication and, instead, began helping [name] at the club on nights he wasn’t Spira. It was a weird sense of pride that surged within his center to know that the two of them both had their own businesses and both were relatively successful—it made Ukai feel powerful.

Like it wasn’t entirely wrong that the two of them were together despite the eight year gap.

And, in their world, it wasn’t. [name], while she rarely showed it, suffered a lot of heartbreak during and after her relationship with Sugawara Koushi—one that left her with a lot of metaphorical scars that mentally aged her by at least five years. It took years for her to heal, to feel content in her solidarity, and that aged her even more. In a sense, however, these also drove her ambition to be successful, her true, fun-loving self, and to share the love she wished she had received back then.

It took a few months for Keishin to unearth just how badly Suga had hurt her. After hearing how manipulative he was of her and everyone around her, it was no wonder she made it a point to love loudly and overtly—something Ukai seemed to thrive off of. While their relationship may have appeared strange to those on the outside looking in, it was nobody’s business but theirs.

It was even more peculiar from an outsider perspective considering the couple had just welcomed their son barely three months ago. “You literally fucked a baby into me!” [name] had been a cross between flustered, angry, and overjoyed when she found out of her pregnancy. Keishin’s mind was a mile a minute when she told him, but he couldn’t deny the sense of pride and lust and desire he felt.

If anything, it only made those feelings worse—like he wanted to do it again and again because goddamn it, it meant that [name] was entirely his, carrying their baby and all. But she knew her partner well enough to know when Keishin got that dangerous, nearly predatory, glint in his honey brown eyes, he was aiming for kid number two. “Thank god I’m on birth control.” She often mutters between catching her breath whenever the mood struck the volleyball coach.

“So you don’t mind if I keep trying then, right?”

“Keishin, no—“

“Oh, so you don’t mind?”

“Keishin!”

Thank you all for bearing through this lengthy monstrosity! Again, I had a whole bunch of fun writing it.

#samwrights #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu!!#ukai hcs #hq ukai #ukai x reader #ukai scenario #ukai keishin #haikyuu ukai #coach ukai #nsfhq #dj!ukai #dj!au #i am sorry

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jaswolfwriting · 4 years

Text

Gamer! Denki x Reader

~First Request! Thank you so much for requesting, I accidentally replied privately and I didn’t realize that’d delete the request but yeah!~

Summary: Denki meets your parents only to find out that your mom is the creator of his favorite video game.

Word count: 1,625

Warnings: None!~

“Hey Denki,” You walk up to your boyfriend from behind while he’s playing one of his favorite games, wrapping your arms around him from behind.

“Oh, hey babe.” He greets you, His golden eyes still fixated intently on the screen, a battle scene playing out. You smile softly, watching his tactics.

After the confrontation ends, he places his controller beside him, and turns around to face you. His strong arms wrap around you and he kisses your cheek, his soft blonde hair tickling your forehead.

“So that’s the... fourth game in the Battlecraze series right..?” You ask, a smile plastered on your face while acting as if you had no clue, though really you did.

“Yep!” He exclaims, and explains all the battles and events with excitement in his voice, his eyes bright.

You listen to him explain the entire plot, watching his hand gestures as he rambles on.

“Oh, Speaking of which... isn’t the fifth game coming out in a few months?” You tap your chin, acting clueless.

“Yeah!” His eyes sparkle “It’s gonna be amazing, they’re even adding more characters! One even has a electricity power!”

“Wow! That’s awesome!” You go along with it, not wanting to ruin any surprises. “Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry.”

You hum as you hand Denki a plate of macaroni and cheese a little while later. You sit beside him, dragging your hands through your hair.

“Ah, Y/n! Thanks!” His eyes light up at the dinner you made, although it wasn’t much. “Oh! Also, We are eating dinner at your parents’ place tomorrow, yeah?” He asks, his mouth full.

“Yeah, we are.” You chuckle at your boyfriend’s excitement.

“I’m so pumped to meet them!” Denki’s signature smile creeps onto his face as his honey eyes shine.

After you two finish cleaning up after dinner, he drags you to the Livingroom. He plops down onto one of the two bean bags, and holds out a controller to you.

“Pleeease?” You couldn’t refuse after seeing the puppy eyes he was giving you.

“Fine,” You mutter, grabbing the controller and plopping down beside him as he switches the game to a multiplayer setting.

The two of you play late into the night, up until you notice Denki’s character not doing anything. You smile softly as you look over to see him curled up as deep breaths escape his lips.

You walk over to his sleeping figure and gently remove the controller from his hand, setting it on the coffee table along with yours. You grab a blanket draped over the couch and place it over him, running a hand through his hair, you kiss his forehead.

After changing into pajamas, you get into the bed, longing for the next day to come.

“Morning Love!~” You groggily open your eyes to see your lover standing above you. “I made breakfast!”

“mmm,” You groan, rubbing your tired eyes as Kaminari looked at you with pure adoration. His blond hair was messy from sleep and his t-shirt was wrinkled as he held his hand out to you.

You grip his hand, and pull yourself out from the warmth of your blankets. He leads you to the kitchen where a lovely breakfast awaited you.

“Taadaa!” He chuckles, gesturing to the table.

“Wow, you must’ve worked so hard on this,” a smirk comes across your face as you plop down into a chair. “Why are you up so early anyway?”

“Eh, I just couldn’t sleep.” He scoops the cereal (that he worked ever so hard on making) into his mouth.

“Huh, ok.” You check the time, and your eyes widen. “It’s 1 in the afternoon!”

“I was wondering when you’d notice,” he bursts into laughter while you groan at him.

“Alright well I’m gonna go get ready.” You mutter, dragging your feet to your shared bedroom.

You browse your closet and find an outfit to suit the occasion. It’s a darker shade of clothing, and it’s a bit formal, but not too formal. You smile at your selection, and enter the bathroom. After taking a nice shower, you put the clothes on and blow-dry your hair. You fix yourself up a bit more, and go over to Denki.

“Wow...” He looks over at your stunning body in awe. “You look incredible!”

“Thank you!” You peck his cheek gently, straightening his golden tie. “I must say, you look pretty good yourself,” You smirk, scanning his body up and down. He is wearing a black shirt, matching the color of his suit. His tie brings out Denki’s eye color.

“Alright,” You say, stepping out of the car you took to your childhood home. “Here we are!”

You tap lightly on the door, and not two minutes later a familiar face opens the door.

“Y/n, darling! It’s marvelous to see you!” Your father scoops you into his arms, pulling you into a tight hug. After he pulls away, he meets Denki’s gaze. “And you must be Mr.Kaminari.”

“Y-yes sir, I am!” Denki’s confidence seemed to leave the poor boy.

“Well, welcome to the family!” Your dad hugs your boyfriend, who is shocked by the gesture, carefully hugging your father back. You smile at the scene unfold.

The three of you enter your former home, and you inhale a delicious aroma as you enter the kitchen.

“Here, let me go get your mother.” Your dad exits the room, soon coming back with a woman, a large smile plastered on her face.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t hear the doorbell! I was working on a big project!” She runs up to you and Kaminari, engulfing the both of you in a hug.

“It’s alright, mom! I know how busy you can get.” You hug her back.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Denki formally greets to which she smiles.

“It’s wonderful to meet you as well, but don’t act so formal! Just be yourself!” She places a hand on his shoulder. “You know, Y/n never stops talking about you.”

“Mom!” You scoff, a blush coming across your face.

“Alright everyone!” A yell comes from the dining room, “Dinner’s ready!”

The three of you go into the dining room, looking at the delicious dinner that your father had prepared.

“Wow! This looks amazing!” Denki gasps as everyone begins filling their plate.

The dinner that your father had prepared was gone in what seemed like an instant because of how quickly everyone was devouring it.

“Alright! It seems like everyone enjoys my cooking! I’m so glad! Now, I’ll be cleaning the kitchen if anyone needs me,” He winks over at you, knowing fully what you and your mother had been planning to do.

“Alright Denki, My lovely (son/daughter) and I have a surprise for you.” She stands, and walks into her work office. You smile and give a nod to Denki, and he follows your mother.

As he enters the room, his amber eyes widen. The office had two portions to it; the merch room, and the game manufacturing room. The Game Manufacturing room had light colored walls with Battlecraze posters lining the walls. Many shelves held figurines on display. All Kaminari could do was stare. His Body was frozen, his eyes however darted around the room with a mixture of awe and utter shock.

“I-I,” He gasps “W-what? How do you have so much merch?! This is awesome!” He turns to your mother, large grins plastered on their faces.

“Well, actually...” She smiles “Y/n didn’t want to tell you, we wanted it to be a surprise... I am the creator of the Battlecraze series.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier,” You start, but Denki cuts you off.

“I- It’s fine! Wow, that’s...” His eyes tear up, and he hugs me and my mother. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you..” are the only words he can get out.

After a few minutes of Denki’s shock, your mother smiles.

“Well... I need to ask you a question, about the newest character?” She gestures him over to his computer, opening a few files.

“Oh! That’s the electricity powered character, right? I can’t wait for the reveal about them!”

“Speaking of the reveal,” she clicks on an image, and when it pops up, it’s a 3-d animated character. He looks identical to Denki. “Y/n and I wanted to make this character in honor of you.”

“And! We are wondering if we can use your name...” I nervously fidget with my hands.

“R-really?!” He stammers his response “Y-yeah! I would love that!”

“Perfect!” Your mother pipes in, “How would you like to test the new game for me?”

“Yes please I would love to!!!” He exclaims as your mother hands a controller to the both of you, leaving to the merch room.

After test running the new game for awhile, your mother returns with a few large boxes.

“Denki, I packed you up some of our merch! I made sure to add all of the exclusive and collectables too!” She stacks the boxes by the door.

Denki, who is amazed and overwhelmed, runs up to your mother to give her a hug and thank her.

“No need to thank me! We are family after all,” your mothers eyes meet yours, and she sends you a wink. You feel your face redden.

When you arrive back at your house, Denki begins setting up all of his new posters and figurines around the room, a large smile plastered across his face.

“Your mom is amazing!” He exclaims, rushing over to you. “But, more importantly, I’m so glad they accept me... I was so nervous!”

“Aww, I’m glad you like them,” you giggle at him, pulling him into your arms.

“I love them. and I love you.” He pecks your cheek softly, his arms around your waist.

~Please leave suggestions so that I know what you want to see! I really need some requests!~

#kaminari denki #denki kaminari #denki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero x reader #mha fluff #mha #bnh #bnha #kaminari x reader #kaminari fluff

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thedistrictsleepsalonetonight · 4 years

Text

Space girl

The beginning of most love stories: the moon falls in love with the sun.

(The problem, however, is that most love stories aren’t set in the Boiling Isles. To confirm that the metaphor works adequately, there must exist at least one moon and one sun in your admittedly bonkers world. Is there a sun? A moon?)

Amity shivers where she’s sitting at her window, stares up at the bright bluish orb hanging over the sky and decides it does, in fact, qualify as a celestial body, whatever the hell that means. Luz has been teaching them about the intricacies of the human world, every bit of knowledge that they would require if in case they ever got transported there accidentally, and that includes something called a smartphone, a bus and the shortest way to the nearest vending machine, preferably a vending machine that stocks Mars Bars. Amity suspects the last is just another one of Luz’s whims, but has no way of confirming.

(And what is the point of confirming anything anyways? It is enough to sit in front of Luz, or beside her or anywhere with a direct line of sight to her, so Amity can listen to her blabber on about chocolate chips and scrambled eggs and something called a Tumblr; enough to get lost in the insistent, sunshine shaped cadence of her voice and forget about the perils of the week.

Plus, is the sun ever wrong?)

A month ago, Amity would have been alarmed at how easily she writes down her utter devotion towards a very human someone who gets beaten up on the regular by some ancient eldritch horror. Now the words just walk out of her quill and plant themselves firmly on the page like they couldn’t belong anywhere else, except maybe her paramour’s heart. That’s the problem with the moon falling in love with the sun. it’s annoying yet ineffable and inevitable. It’s also the easiest thing she’s ever done.

*****

Emira figures it out first. Which probably means that Edric knows as well, since Amity is pretty sure the twins share a single mind and keep passing it to each other like they’re in an eternal Grudgby match. However, he’s not the one who appears in her room in the middle of the night to scare her half to death. That’s all Emira.

“What,” Amity starts, one hand on her chest, other reaching instinctively for her training wand at the sight of a green cloud of smoke that’s materialized in her room out of nowhere, “in the world are you doing here?”

Her sister leans against the doorway, like she’s been there all along, takes in her room. Amity knows it’s clean, knows that there is not a speck of dust hiding beneath the floorboards or an errant cape strewn on her bed, and yet can’t help following Emira’s gaze anxiously as it travels across her neatly arranged trophy on the shelf, her table and the loose floorboard she now hides her diary under, before she comes to rest on hers.

“You never told us what happened at the library the other day,” she says, finally.

Amity blinks. “I did tell you what happened. Otabin turned into a monster and tried to sew me, literally, into a book. Had to be fought off.”

She doesn’t continue with the subsequent thoughts in her head. Luz was there. Brave, idiotic Luz with a tendency of barging into adventures without a second thought. Luz, who I would’ve jumped into fire for. Luz, who made (makes) me laugh.

“You mean you and Luz?” Emira asks, innocently.

She bites the inside of her cheek, tries hard not to betray the smile that’s trying to creep up her face at the sound of Luz’s name. Nods.

“Luz is pretty cool, is she not?” Emira continues, and okay, there’s no reason to say someone’s name this much in one conversation. She ambles around her room, touching things at random, while Amity regulates her breathing. This was pathetic. The sound of someone’s name wasn’t supposed to make her feel like her heart was going to burst out of her, wasn’t supposed to climb up her throat and turn into absolute warmth all over her face.

“Uh huh,” she manages. “I guess. Yeah. Eh. Yeah.” Too much too much too much too much.

Emira is suddenly in her face then. She places her hand on Amity’s shoulders, stares right into her eyes.

“Aw, Mittens,” she chuckles. “You’re adorable when you have a crush.”

And then she disappears.

Amity does manage to chuck the object nearest to her (which happens to be her training wand) at Emira’s retreating figure. Then she sits on the floor and curls up into an embarrassed ball. You know, as one does.

*****

The whole jumping into danger for Luz thing would be a lot more avoidable if Luz didn’t have an equally huge jumping into danger for Amity thing as well.

Which is such a godforsaken Luz thing to do. The idiot immersed herself in a cauldron full of sludge for Willow, who she had met minutes ago, of course she would take on her burden for Grom night. Of course she would somehow break the cage Amity had conjured up for her to come save Eda and Edric and Emira and of course she would help her make things right with Willow. If the girl had one coherent thought when she woke up every morning, it was probably this – Ooh, someone’s in trouble? Let me fix it!

(She does inevitably manage to turn a tiny cut into a gushing wound in absolutely no time at all, but would Luz even be Luz without shenanigans?)

Amity loves it. It gives her a heart attack, but she loves how Luz is always ready to help out a random stranger. She’s never met anyone with a heart bigger than Luz’s and a personality sunnier than hers.

(Also hasn’t met anyone who’s cuter, or prettier, or better-looking in a strange black-pink-frilly-yet-well-tailored attire, but let’s not go there)

Either way, it’s completely understandable that she immediately reaches for her wand when Luz climbs up onto her balcony after Grom night, ready to fight whatever it was that was evidently bothering her.

“No!” Luz holds up her hands, shoots her a quick smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh,” she says, feeling herself relax. “So, um — why are you — here?”

“I could go! If you — wanted to, sleep or—”

“—no! Absolutely not!” Curse her for picking the absolute worst way to phrase a question. Why hadn’t she said Hey Luz, it’s so nice to see you, what brings you here? Or Hey Luz, please walk into my room and never leave.

(You know. Either works)

“I’m glad you’re here,” Amity says, then fumbles for something, anything, to add on to that revealing statement. “I mean, I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

Luz nods, and then giggles when Amity joins her onto the balcony and in the moonlight.

“What?” she asks, a little self-conscious. Also very charmed. Making Luz laugh was like some form of intoxicating elixir; Amity was hooked onto the feeling. Luz laughing made the world brighter.

(God, she was so gone for this idiot.)

“Your pajamas have tiny owls all over them,” Luz points out.

“Okay, that’s it!” she says, half-turning to go back into her room, when Luz’s hand grabs her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Luz is still laughing. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You look cute.”

Thank you, Luz. That’s very nice of you, Luz. You look nice in your strange clothes and oversized jacket as well, Luz. Those were all potential responses she could deliver.

Instead, she makes a choked-off noise that sounds suspiciously like hngg and closes her eyes.

(She’s so gone for this idiot)

*****

“Does your moon look like the one here?” Amity asks, one night of many, when they’re sitting on her balcony staring up at the gigantic thing. There’s some quiet song about stars and lovers that’s playing on that infernal device Luz is always toting around, and Luz is next to her, her arm brushing against Amity’s, radiating warmth out from the point of contact.

Amity wouldn’t mind if she died happy right at this moment.

“It’s a little different, I think,” Luz tilts her head, regarding it thoughtfully. Then she picks up her phone, taps at it and holds it out in front of Amity. “Here, that’s the moon back home.”

It isn’t bluish like this one. Nor is it smooth, unblemished. It’s got marks all over it, remnants, Amity presumes of outside forces long gone by. Enraptured, she leans in for a closer look.

“It’s orange!”

“It was just that day,” Luz informs her. “It isn’t orange all the time.”

“It changes colors?” That was surprising. Also fascinating.

“Not — not all the time. It’s complicated, I guess.”

Amity likes the wide smile Luz holds when she talks about this. Luz is so expressive, she couldn’t hide her feelings to save her life. Most of the time in school, when being faced down by exasperated teachers Amity thinks of it as a curse. Now, however, at midnight, while it’s just the two of them, and she is privy to this unbridled display of everything that makes up Luz, she’s enamored.

“Why do you like the moon so much?” she asks, curious.

“Why do you like the sun so much?” Luz shoots back, playfully.

Oh. That one’s easy. “Because it turns everything golden. Because it’s airy and light. Because it makes me feel warm inside.” Because your eyes turn a particular shade in the sunlight and it’s hard to look at you directly, you shine so bright. Because every time the sun comes up, it is a precursor to me seeing you in school.

Because it reminds me of you.

Luz looks at her, her eyes uncharacteristically wide and serious. “I like the moon because it makes me feel seen. Because it’s almost as lonely as I am. Because I can trust it enough to know that it’s mostly always there, even if it’s behind the clouds at the moment.”

They’re staring at each other, eyes wide, and Amity can’t breathe. She thinks of a lonely Luz staring up at the night sky back in the human world, talking to the moon, and it twinges, sorrowfully, like a ukulele out of tune, at a place deep underneath her chest. Some strange mixture of I’m sorry you had no one to talk to and I wish I’d been there, I wish I’d known you back then — I’d have listened to all your stories.

“Plus,” Luz smiles, “it’s pretty.”

Amity blinks, and the spell is broken. Luz jerks, as if coming out of a dream, and stands up straight. Stammers, fumbles, makes a truly terrible joke about broomsticks and King and the annoying owl slash security guard slash housekeeper and runs off, leaving her completely confused.

*****

It’s when Gus finds out that Amity discovers that everyone and their parent has known about her Grometheus sized crush on Luz the entire time.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” He’s still sulking about it in a corner, while Amity is faced down by Willow, Edric, Emira, Eda and King at the same time.

“Nobody told anyone, strange little child,” Eda waves a hand impatiently at him. “We just have eyes.”

Edric casts a momentary silencing spell on him, but Amity is pretty sure he’s mouthing the words “But I have eyes too”. Not that she’s too worried about Gus. He’ll be fine.... eventually. It’s more the fact that she now has to figure out which parts of her behavior have apparently clued in the whole world to the fact that her heart is waddling around in an idiot’s chest, most times.

“How about the fact that you can’t stop smiling when I bring her up?” She does not—

“Or that you did some pretty advanced magic trying to save her when that Slither-Beast had us?” How did he-

“You nearly combusted when she picked you up after our Grudgby match?” It wasn’t that bad.

She buries her head in her hands. Then looks up at King.

“Do you want to add anything?”

“No,” he replies. “I had no idea until today. I just didn’t want to be lumped in with Gus over there.”

She stands up, picks up her bag. “Okay, I am clearly at a disadvantage here—”

“Mittens, come back,” Edric grabs the back of her shirt, lets her flail for a minute before she gives up.

“I just — I just wanted to get her something nice for her birthday tomorrow, okay? And instead I’m being ambushed by the entirety of Boiling Isles.”

“But we are trying to help you, kid,” Eda tells her, now lounging on the couch with King on her lap. “God knows I love that child, but she has not an ounce of common sense in her. There is no way she’s ever going to figure out you’re in love with her if you don’t—”

“—whoa, whoa, whoa, love? That’s — please — completely crazy — idea. I’m not — in — love. That’s—”

She’s not. She’s not. So what if she keeps interrogating Gus on human things so she can impress Luz with her admittedly flawed knowledge on all things non-Boiling Isles? So what if she hasn’t slept more than five hours for the past one month because Luz comes over at night and they end up talking until past midnight? What does it even matter that Luz is the only person who she feels any form of innate comfort around? Or that every time she lends Luz her jacket when it gets chilly, the sight of an awkwardly clad Luz in that oversized thing makes her heart feel full to the point of bursting?

That’s not love.

(Some strange whisper echoes through her head, leaving echoes of But it could be behind)

Luz is the sun, okay? Bright and beautiful and adored by everyone. There’s no reason she could, or that she even should pay attention to Amity. Her affection is easily given, evenly split between all her friends and the citizens of the world; there’s no way Amity could ever hope to exert enough gravity to make Luz notice her, no way she could dare to hope for a greater portion in Luz’s long list of priorities.

(After all, does the sun even know that moon exists?)

*****

“Come on, Amity!”

She presses her lips flat, tries not to burst into laughter at the sight of an impatient Luz, vibrating by her side, hands opening and closing in the air.

“I know you have a gift for me! And you’ve been hiding it from everyone! Nobody at the party knew!”

“Aren’t you tired from the party?” she asks, knowing the abrupt change in topic is just going to annoy Luz more. It had been a hectic affair, after all. Monster complications in the morning aside, the Owl House had seen an impressive number of guests who wanted to wish Luz a very happy birthday. An impressive number of guests along with an impressive number of gifts.

All except one.

“Nope. Not tired at all,” Luz tells her, promptly. “Completely alert and ready to receive the gift that I know you’ve gotten me but aren’t giving me yet, because you like messing with me.”

Amity twists her face into the visual equivalent of Who, me but conjures up a wrapped box either way. It falls into Luz’s outstretched hands, and then she has to tell her to shush unless they want Amity’s parents grounding her, forever.

(Not that it pleases her, much. She hates telling Luz to quiet down, because it tends to break her out of whatever spiel she is embarking upon, and Amity adores it when Luz rambles. Her eyes shine, and her hands move around animatedly, and her voice, her voice is so, so sweet she doesn’t mind it telling her about things she cannot comprehend)

She puts a hand on Luz’s right arm just as she’s about to unwrap it. “Luz,” she starts, already embarrassed, but determined to power through, “this, is probably not the best gift, and probably not even accurate as well, so you have to tell me if you don’t like it, okay? I’ve got other backup gifts I’d planned on giving you, so no worries, okay? Just—”

“Amity,” Luz cuts in, her excited smile morphing into something a little quieter, gentler, “I already love it.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

Luz shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, still looking at her. Only resumes unwrapping it when Amity nods. Opens the box, and thankfully isn’t looking at her when Amity starts talking.

“I tried — to make it as close to the real thing as possible,” she says, watching Luz look at the off-white orb in wonder. “King helped. He went on something called the, the internet? And turns out your moon has a lot of craters! But it’s pretty regardless, so I tried — to. Yeah.”

She’s not exactly surprised when Luz leans over and hugs her. They’re sitting side by side so the angle’s a little off, but it’s not like she cares. Luz, beautiful, happy, Luz is here and she’s solid in her arms, and she can feel her smile against her neck and Amity is going to die—

“Thank you.” Luz disentangles herself from the embrace, but still pretty close. “I — Amity. Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

But I want to. I want to give you things, and I want to give you things that you like and that will maybe remind you of me. She places a hand on the orb between them, sees it light up.

“It also does this,” she informs Luz, unnecessarily. Then places a hand again, watches it turn orange. “Changes colors. Like yours does.”

She finally looks at Luz again, after a moment of complete silence, only to see her staring back. The look in her eyes is so — so intense (Amity can think of no other way to describe it), that it makes her want to turn away and cover her face. Like it’s going to burn her up if she keeps looking into her eyes.

And then Luz quickly darts forward to press a kiss to her cheek, and Amity combusts.

(Only inside. You’d think it was possible, wouldn’t you? It was the Boiling Isles, after all. But no. Nobody had spontaneously combusted since Elaric the Great and as far as anybody could tell, it didn’t have anything to do with romance)

The kiss lands half on her half and half on her skin because she’s pretty sure Luz hasn’t exactly thought it through either. There’s a single, blissful moment of peace, and then then her heart goes into overdrive, beating away like it’s trying to catch a train.

Speaking of things trying to catch a train, however....

“I have to go!” Luz scrambles away, gets up. Her face looks red as well, and Amity, a little stumped, watches it happen, as though in slow motion. Even through her haste, she picks up the replica of the moon carefully and wraps it up in her jacket. “I’ll — see you tomorrow! At school! Where we both.... go. So. Yeah. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight?” Amity replies, softly.

Right before she’s about to climb down, Luz stops. Turns around, and very quickly says something that Amity for the life of her cannot figure out.

(Also, because she’s still in the tummy-woozy, mind-blank state of just having a kiss pressed to her cheek by the most perfect girl in the world)

“Can you say that again?”

“I, uh,” Luz slows down, deliberately, her voice coming out quieter. “Did you totally hate that?”

Oh.

Oh, gosh, the idiot.

Amity shakes her head, grins at her, hoping that says what she isn’t brave enough to say yet. “No, Luz. I didn’t hate that.”

*****

She keeps the picture of Luz’s tremulous, answering smile wrapped in the fist she presses to her heart a long time after she’s gone.

*****

And that’s how the story ends. With the sun smiling at the moon.

#the owl house #lumity #luz x amity #fanfiction #okay so i finished the owl house like yesterday and god do i think every single character in it is cute? hell yes #but amity! turns out im not immune to mean lesbians either because first episode and she was already my fav #also because she's exactly as much of a mess as me when i like someone #but anyways #here's a rambling oneshot i wrote about them being cute #also about them being the sun and the moon #so metaphors abound!

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mistersourwolf · 4 years

Text

An Old Lovers Quarrel- Geralt x Reader

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: hints at nsfw but not really nsfw at all, angry reader?? I don’t really have many warnings for this actually

Summary: Y/N hunts monsters just like any witcher except she is human. She is directed to Blaviken, the town in which only bad memories are tied to her, but she is here to go against a mutant whom she was told was lurking in the shadows. While in Blaviken she comes across Geralt, an old lover, one she hadn’t seen since the accidental death of a friend. A death caused by Geralt. They reconnect towards the end of the story and honestly just read because I feel I went all sorts of directions with this one but it IS worth the read I promise.

A/N: This is so insanely long but please do give it a read and reblog if you can. It took me about a week to write this as I wasn’t sure which direction I wanted to go with this, just a heads up Josef is just a character I planted in there to help the story run a lot smoother. I hope you do like it though and any feedback is welcomes and I do apologize if the end seems a bit rushed I was just so eager to have a finished piece but yeah :))

It was only noon when you pushed through the doors of the tavern, eyeing the elves and humans who sat amongst each other. They were in peace living among each other and as you could see they each shared bits of their traditions and culture. Surely a lot had changed since you’d last been here. You waved your hand at Josef, the barkeep. His eyes lit up at the sight of you and he quickly brought you a tankard, froth trickling down the side.

“You’ve returned, I wonder after all these years,” Josef leaned over the counter, smiling nastily, “what sort of devilry lingers in Blaviken?”

Sitting on the barstool, you took a swig of your ale and a cough rose from your lungs. “What is this? Goat piss?” You griped, wiping droplets of ale from your chin.

“I do remember you a particular one,” the barkeep grinned, “but honorable y/n, ‘tis the best ale in all of Blaviken.”

“I don’t doubt it, not a bit.” You sneered, glancing once more around the pub. “I’m looking for a witcher, one who‘s fond of hide and seek and I’ve no time for the antics of children.”

The barkeeps eyes widened at the mention of the brutish creature, a witcher, possibly in Blaviken.

“A mutant?” Josef quieted, “what business do you have with a beast like that?”

Your eyes narrowed, slightly offended by the barkeeps judgement for though you spited the witcher, you felt you were kindred spirits by divine will. You bit your tongue, saying nothing at all and taking a mouthful of that atrocious ale, forcing it down.

“Very well,” the barkeep continued, “You enjoy the ale.”

You watched him as he walked away, overlooking the tavern. Josef was an honest man, always considerably kind but an unapologetic brazen half-wit. It took a while for Josef to realize you were neither an elf, sorceress, or peasant but a simply a well respected human. One who sought out imminent dangers; to be precise you were the non-mutant witcher that even Witcher’s feared. A human hunter of all monstrosities that littered the world. Witcher’s didn’t belong on that list of horror but Geralt of Rivia held the honor of writing himself onto the non existent draft.

You finished up your ale, struggling to stomach the thickness of it but you managed, standing from your stool.

“Running off so soon?” The barkeep called out as you headed for the door, “You’ll come back to criticize more of my famed ale, will you?”

You turned towards him nodding, “My greatest pleasure in this town is downing tankards of your disgusting ale, Josef, I will return.”

The barkeep opened his mouth to speak but you never did hear his words as you rushed into the streets of Blaviken. Carts flew by you and you watched as the children played in the town, giggling maniacally. They had not a sliver of care in the world and you felt in the pit of your stomach the nostalgic feeling of being a know-nothing happy brat. It was years ago but still the memories of Sunday porridge with your mother as a girl were vivid. You stared into the crowds of people watching them disperse as the clacking of a horses trot rippled through the street. You watched the familiar horse emerge from the crowd and atop was a hooded figure. Your insides churned as your instincts told you who stood in front of you. You hurried behind a bush, placed conveniently by the tavern. Peeping from behind it you noticed the man jump from his mare, whispering to the animal. An odd, yet again, familiar thing to see. He turned away from the horse, trusting her to remain outside the tavern without so much as securing her to a pole. His pride radiated through each step he took. You winced hearing the door to the pub creak as he slowly entered, leaving your sight. You crept from the bush, brushing off the spiderwebs that must’ve been etched on the shrub and headed back inside the Tavern. You watched from inside the door as the witcher sat on a stool, dramatically pulling down his hood. Josef immediately approached the man with a tankard, as always overflowing with foam. The witcher took a swig of the awful concoction and a brutal hacking followed. You grinned, mentally telling Josef to shove Blavikens best ale up his ass. At that moment, you moved in on him, sitting on the neighboring stool.

Josefs eyes lit up seeing you back in the pub so soon but you stared him down coldly, sending a clear message not to bother you. You glanced over at the white-haired man, his eyes staring down at the bar top.

“Do you think I couldn’t sense you?” The witcher grimaced, “The hate you have for Blaviken, even the dead can feel your dread.”

You were startled by his sudden words which conveyed he remembered you well.

He raised his head to look at you, startling you as you forgot what it was to look him in his eyes which took on the bright bursting color of sunflower petals, a kaleidoscope of yellow and orange. It sent chills to your bones as you had forgotten how they could so easily penetrate the soul. You resisted shifting to puddy and instead held a strong stance, trying to get a read on him.

“That’s true, witcher,” you smiled, “I do pity this place. It is, after all, the place my mother and father abandoned me, where I was forced to kill my first monster and of course my biggest misfortune of all, where I met you.”

A frown masked his face, “I never meant any harm to—“

“You need not worry, witcher, I’m not here to avenge him. As much as I rightfully should, my hands will not command my dagger to be held against you.” you explained.

“So why trouble yourself to travel all the way to Blaviken?” He sighed. “I’ve not known you to come in peace.”

“Actually you’ve not known me at all, witcher.” You smiled nastily, “But if you must know, I’ve come seeking another mutant like yourself,“

Geralt looked taken back, assuming you were suggesting another witcher.

“Well, not exactly like yourself since this one is cursed. Birthed by her mother on the eclipse.” You explained watching Geralt drink from his tankard once more. He must’ve forgotten the taste of it as you watched his face contorted in horrific disgust.

“So I’ve heard,” He slid his cup away from him. “She comes for Stregabor, by the name of Renfri and from what he tells me, I see why she would pursue his demise. The Bastard.” He sneered.

“Well, I’m inquiring your help, Geralt, help me kill the—“

Geralts lips slightly turned upwards almost as if he were trying to smile, “I have a code, you’re forgetting but I do remember you an eager one.”

“I’ve heard particular now eager, I guess I leave quite an impression.” you grinned but the sound of the tavern doors swinging open caused you to turn your head. In walked a thin, lenient woman, her hair cut in a shapely bob made her way to the bar top.

“Josef!” She called out, “Two tankards, extra froth how I like it.”

The barkeep fumbled for the tankards, nervous in her presence. You turned back around facing Geralt, “You and I must be the only ones with any good taste in ale.”

Geralt watched the girl as she walked over to the two of you.

The brunette spoke up, “Well isn’t this the most prime example of opposites attracting? You two are together I assume?”

You disagreed shaking your head and letting a laugh rip from your lungs, “Not in his wildest dreams.”

The witcher grunted, amused knowing he already had you, long ago before your quarrel sent you both on separate paths.

She chimed in again, “Then it won’t be any trouble to steal your seat, will it?”

You felt jealousy stir in the pit of your stomach but calmed it, standing from your seat. Usually you would have twisted her arm and made her regret ever asking such a thing—to give up your seat so her entitled, everyone-loves-me self could have a seat next to him..but you were so sick of the impressions you made. Geralt tried to hold back a smug grin but couldn’t, knowing you were resisting your rage. You sat down the line from the two as she began making conversation with Geralt.

You noticed his eyes meeting yours every so often as she talked his ear off. Eventually his looks became focused on only her as you pestered Josef for more tankards of his shitty ale.

“Who is that?” You asked him, taking the cup from his hand.

His eyes gleamed at the sight of her, entranced by her very existence, “That is our beloved Renfri,” Your eyes widened at the mention of her name, this was the girl you’d been looking for. “been coming here these past few weeks and business is thriving more than it has in the last decade.”

You nodded at Josef, sipping your ale as you watched Geralt listen fondly to the girl. What did she want from him? You watched as they stood up from their stools, placing their tips on the bar top. Geralt made eye contact with you as he followed her out of the bar, seemingly to magnify you jealousy. It worked and you were certainly angered but again so sick of the first impressions you made.

For the rest of the evening, unsure of where the witcher and the girl had run off to, you sat at Josef’s tavern. By six o clock you were on your seventh tankard and booze practically seeped from your pores. Seeing Geralt brought back memories, ones you tried desperately to shove in the back of your mind. He had brought up the boy, the boy whom was loved so dearly in the village, the boy whom you had grown close to after your family left you to the streets of Blaviken. But as soon as memories of him surfaced you drowned them in the sea of your trauma, or in booze. Right now it was booze. You stumbled to your feet, slamming your coins on the surface of the bar.

“I knew I should’ve stopped you at tankard number three, y/n.” The barkeep said causing you to laughed obnoxiously, your breath reeking of ale.

“Take your coin and go to hell, my old friend.” You slurred, a stupid grin on your face. Your legs felt like jell-o as you headed towards the tavern door. Multiple times, you leaned onto the bar top to ensure your balance. You cursed at Geralt, pissed he had left you all alone at the pub. He owed you nothing but your stomach turned as you thought of the looks Renfri gave Geralt. You pushed through the doors into the evening landscape, a hand over your stomach as you retched, all the contents emptying from your stomach. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you stood upright again. You looked along the path heading to a local inn, it was going to be a difficult walk being as drunk as you were. However you made your way down the path receiving multiple stares from peasants, workmen, even children were disgusted by your souring look. You were far too lost in your head to even hear the trotting of a horse behind you, but the rider caught your attention shortly.

“You,” He said annoyed, “are not sober in the slightest. What have you gotten yourself into?” It was Geralt, seemingly concerned.

“Well, well,” you stumbled against him, “if it isn’t the absentee witcher.”

“Seriously y/n? What the fucking hell?” He grumbled, wrapping an arm around you and leading you to his horse.

“Yep,” you grinned, “What the fucking hell Geralt, you murdered an innocent boy.”

Geralt paused, glancing over at you who giggled idiotically, clearly unaware of what you were saying.

“Come on,” he muttered, throwing you on top his horse and then joining you. “Don’t fall.”

As the horse began to trot along the path again, your body rattled against Geralts. Your arms gripped tightly around his torso, terrified of falling from the horse. You were extremely intoxicated and so the scent of picked berries from the local shops made you feel hunger at a peak. He glanced every so often to make sure you were still awake and able to maintain your grip. The ride wasn’t long, only a few minutes compared to what would’ve taken you hours. Geralt leaped from his horse, immediately pulling you off and hurrying towards the inn. You stumbled down the halls of the inn, walking to your room. Geralt sighed annoyed by you as you fumbled in your back pockets, searching for what seemed like eternity for your room key.

Once inside, you ran towards your bed, jumping backwards onto it. The witcher was not amused, slamming the door shut behind him.

“You should get some rest,” He suggested, his voice a mix of concern and frustration. “If you want to get to Renfri in the morning.”

You sat up, eyeing him as he walked across the room, looking at your things. “Now you want to kill her, why the sudden change of heart?”

“I will not touch her, but I cannot stop you from killing her and I won’t let her kill you.” He admitted, hinting you were of importance to him.

“That’s endearing,” you stuttered, “to know I have your permission, tell me Geralt, did you ask my permission when you slaughtered the—“

“I know what he meant to you!” Geralt yelled, throwing a piece of china across the room. It shattered against the wall, not even earning a flinch from you. “When will you see it was not my intention? You brought him there when you knew—“

“How was I to know she was a Bruxa?” You raised your voice at him, “how was I to know she forged a bond with him? That he would try to protect her?” Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision.

Geralt grew quiet, ashamed that he tried to blame what had happened on you. You blinked, staring up at the ceiling in attempt to resist gravity. But you failed and multiple tears slid down your cheeks, now flustered and taking on a pinkish-red tone. Geralt walked over to you, sitting beside you. Silence with Geralt always was the opposite—horrendously loud. You know how he was feeling without him having to say it, and you leaned into him. His arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder, giving a small squeeze as you wiped your tears.

“I thought it would be easier to hate you but instead I’ve only had to suffer this loss alone.” You sniffled, your head still spinning from the excess amount of ale you had consumed.

“It’s easier to shift blame where it doesn’t belong than to accept a fate that we hate.” He said, clearing his throat at the end. “Just sleep. We will ride back into town at dawn.” Geralt pulled away, letting you lay back into your bed.

Geralt hadn’t even left your bed before you were fast asleep. He chuckled to himself, knowing you were sure to have an awful headache in the morning. Grabbing a spare pillow from your bed, he threw it onto the floor and stretched out on the floorboards. That evening he couldn’t sleep, his mind occupied by the days events. By sunrise, he was laying beside you, watching you in your peaceful slumber before you’d have to face the pain of a hangover.

You stirred in your sleep, squinting your eyes tightly as the bright sun illuminated the room. You groaned rolling over and to your surprise onto Geralts chest. You raised your head slowly, glaring at the witcher who peered down at you.

“I don’t imagine we...?” You hinted to the witcher, rolling your eyes as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Geralt smirked, “Not in my wildest dreams, I was once told.”

You rolled over off of Geralt, sitting up. As soon as you sat upright, a sharp pain beat against your temples. You groaned, massaging both sides of your head with your fingertips.

“Damn it.” you winced, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

“I might have something for you,” the witcher said, getting up from the bed and walking to his bag. “Here.” He said, pulling out a small bottle which was sealed with a cork.

You read the bottle which was a mix of Rosemary, Ginger and something you couldn’t even try to pronounce. You assumed it must’ve been a healing ingredient as the two herbs were easy enough to say.

“I trust this isn’t poison, but then again you do seek out the innocent.” You groaned, chugging the mixture down. The taste was horrifying and the texture even more so.

Geralt remembered your conversation from last night, realizing you were too drunk to remember. “You are miles from innocent and if it was poison I’d drink it myself if it meant not enduring your wit.”

You scoffed, walking towards your bag and grabbing a fresh pair of clothes. You didn’t bothering asking him to turn around as it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. His eyes tried to look in any other direction but he failed, coming back to your figure as you slipped your freshly cleaned shirt over your torso. You decided to keep your previous pants on as they were best to fight in and you knew there would be bloodshed today, whether it was your own or Renfri’s you did not know.

“Well, Come on then.” You said hiding a dagger in your boot and sliding your sword into your scabbard. You left the inn with Geralt behind you, following.

Geralt walked to Roach, talking as usual to the mare. “She’s a little bitter today, Roach, I apologize in advance.”

You kicked gently at Geralt, “It is impolite to gossip, now may we get going, witcher?”

Geralt smirked, climbing atop the horse as did you. Soon you reached the busy town of Blaviken, as usual children ran back and forth in the streets, racing their friends. Families walked together from shop to shop, seeing the same things they do any other day. Partially the reason you hated Blaviken was because nothing ever changed in the town. The people were the same for generations, the towns ale never got better, always a disgusting mixture easily comparable to piss, children were filthy and the shops worn down.

The tavern was in sight and in moments you were climbing down from Roach along with Geralt. Your headache had eased and nausea had subsided, it seems the remedy Geralt had given you was true to its purpose. You felt more lively than ever walking into the Tavern. Josef met eyes with you, ignoring Geralts brooding presence. “Surely you’re not back for another drink? This early?”

You smiled at Josef, his eyes a chilling blue-grey. “I don’t think I’ll drink for another decade, Josef,” you chuckled, “Have you seen Renfri?”

“Whats it to you?” The barkeep spoke in her defense, odd as you were his oldest friend. You grew up with Josef, his mother and yours were close friends up until she bolted from Blaviken.

“She’s a friend of mine.” You smiled, convincing him it was only of interest of you to reunite with an old friend. He didn’t seem very convinced, pulling back his lip unsure.

“You two didn’t seem that good of friends yester—“ Josef started only to be cut off by Geralt reaching across the bar top, gripping Josef tightly by his head of hair and slamming his head down on the bar top. The barkeep winced and you tugged at Geralts arm, worried for Josef.

“Alright, what has Josef done this time?” A voice called out from behind you two. You turned around but Geralt only shifted his body, still gripping Josef’s hair. The dainty brunette stood before both you and Geralt.

“They’re looking for—“ Josef tried to speak but Geralt slammed his head into the bar top once more, knocking him out this time. You nudged Geralt harshly, muttering some curse words.

“Now Josef is a good fellow, he doesn’t deserve to be attacked in his own pub, have you no manners witcher?” Renfri stepped closer to the witcher, her hand swiftly crossing his chest, “Oh yes, I do remember from last night you had quite the manners.”

You shot a glare at Geralt who avoided your stare as if he could sense the anger building inside you again. He gently pushed the brunette back so she wasn’t standing so close.

“Well it seems you aren’t the one looking for me so what do you want?” She said turning towards you, looking at you as if you were a peasant. It humbled you as you don’t recall the last time someone had a gaze like hers.

“Something very simple,” you murmured, now wanting her dead more than ever. “A gift for the queen, your head on a platter.” You grabbed the hilt of your sword, pulling it from its sheath.

Screams emerged from the crowd and in seconds the only ones who stood in the tavern were you, Renfri and the witcher. She was just as quick as you, whistling before unsheathing her own sword. A mob of men came from the shadows of the tavern, standing against you as well. Geralt gripped his sword, walking towards the men to fend them off. Your sword clashed with Renfris as your feet danced on the floor with her. Her weapon slashed through the air and you ducked under swiftly, slicing her side. She didn’t skip a beat, spinning around and aiming behind your legs. You jumped over her sword, feeling the sharp edge knick your achilles but not deep enough to disable you. You heard the agonizing screams of Renfris goons, Geralt was slaughtering each one of them and Renfri fell distracted by this. You took the opportunity to slash across her chest which she fell back from, her sword fell from her hands and you jumped on top of her, holding your sword to her throat. She leaned into the blade, which cut slightly into her throat. With a quick movement, her head butted against you making you fall back onto your ass. You winced, feeling a sensation similar to your hangover. You leapt back up, clutching your sword tightly as she fumbled for hers. You two stood on opposing sides of the table, circling it with your swords pressing against each other’s, each of you applying all your strength to overthrow each other. Suddenly, one of Renfris men fell into the table, breaking the barrier between you two. You swooped down in a pirouette slicing the back of her thigh.

“Agh!” She yelled, but continued to work her sword. She would not back down and was persistent despite her bleeding injuries. With one final clash, she knocked your sword from your hands. You stumbled back, hitting your head against the hard floor. In seconds she climbed on top of you, her legs on either side of you as she pressed her own sword firmly against your neck just as you did to her moments ago.

“You’ve come for my head and now it seems I’ll have yours.” She quipped, a strong hatred in her eyes, “I do hope this isn’t over the witcher, but bless his soul he knows how to pleas—.”

Her body arched above you as you watched a sword rip through her upper abdomen. Blood dripped onto you as she collapsed over you but not before being kicked aside by none other than Geralt. He offered you a hand but you refused, standing to your feet just fine in your own.

“Y/n, what she said..” Geralt tried to explain but you didn’t let him. You pushed his chest shoving him back, then again and again.

“I ask you to help me kill her and you decide to fuck her instead?!” You shouted furiously, giving one last final shove. Geralt said nothing but gave you eyes of sorrow, those eyes you could no longer stomach to look at.

“You think you’re gonna save my life and have me leap into your arms?” You yelled, truly wondering his thought process, “You are pathetic.”

You ran out of the tavern, a strong urge to burst into tears but you couldn’t. For whatever reason, you just couldn’t.

Geralt rushed after you, “Let me take you to the inn, it is too cold to walk, you’ll freeze.”

“I wonder, will you attempt to warm me as you did her?” You scoffed, crossing your arms, it really was cold.

Geralt stared at you as you avoided his eyes, his beautiful bright yet dark and sad eyes. “You don’t understand, she’s a mutant, one who enchants men she comes across—“

“Oh poor you, the mighty Geralt of Rivia, fallen victim to a scummy brunette.” You laughed as if that was masking your anger but even Geralt knew the dangers of a woman laughing when upset.

“I’m a witcher, y/n, but I’m not immune to magic, no,” he grew agitated by your rudeness, “but I did everything I could to resist.”

You cursed under your breath, finally looking at him. His eyes spoke volumes of guilt, unaware Witcher’s could even feel guilt. Saying nothing to him, you mounted yourself on Roach. As Geralt joined you on top the horse, your arms instinctively wrapped around his torso causing him to turn his head to the side, watching the outline of your figure lean against him for support. A small smile creeped along his lips, though he didn’t let you see it.

Arriving at the inn, you entered your room which felt like heaven as a blanket of warmth wrapped around you. You grew hot from the sudden shift in temperature and immediately stripped despite Geralt being there. He paid no attention to you though not wanting to hear any remarks from you. He then did the same except he only removed his armor and shoes, nothing else. You put something less bloody and looser on, feeling much better after the wardrobe change. The two of you said nothing on the way to the inn and even moments after sitting in your room. He wandered your room aimlessly, looking for nothing in particular but noticing everything. He came across an instrument hidden in the corner of your room beside your bed. He picked it up carefully, he was reminiscing and made it no secret.

“I know a bard who would treasure a lute of this woodwork.” He said softly, strumming his fingers in one swift motion. You looked at him, holding the dainty instrument in his arms.

“It belonged to—Its the only thing I have left of him.” You were hesitant but smiled at the thought of him, the boy who you’d been best friends with for years. You didn’t know how to play the damn thing but it was something he had always talked about teaching you one day. “What’s this bards name?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said placing the lute back in its original place, “I came across him a few years after our parting and it would be a dishonor to say he’s a persistent one. He is far more than persistent.” Geralt cracked a small smile thinking of his friend.

“Is he human?” You asked.

“He is, yes. He would drive you mad, I know that much.” Geralt walked over sitting on the bed beside you.

“You really didn’t feel anything for her did you Geralt?” You asked shyly, knowing it shouldn’t even matter to you. You left him years ago after the incident, it was you who made the choice to part ways with him. He reached out, tilting your chin towards him.

“Nothing more than magic tethered me to her,” he said, assuring you it was nothing to do with chemistry but manipulation. “I’ve never fought anything so strong but I did and if I had to I’d do it again.”

Your heart warmed hearing this from your witcher, the witcher who was usually not so open with his feelings. You had that power over him and always did. You two were open books with each other and despising him all these years just set you up to melt right into his hands. You forgot the connection between you and the witcher through all of your quarrel.

“I know,” you admitted, feeling a rush of emotions. “and I-I’ve missed you.”

Geralt tilted his head down, pressing his lips to yours. You leaned into the kiss, draping your arms over his shoulders, intertwining your fingers behind him. You pulled him on top of you as you laid into your mattress. His lips were hungry and each kiss more ambitious than the last. He broke the kiss crossing his arms and pulling his shirt over his head revealing a broad chest. You missed every part of him and having been apart from him all these years tore your heart just thinking about it. But you didn’t, you focused on his fingers gripping your hips and tugging at the hem of your shirt. He slid the shirt over your head, revealing your proportioned figure. He missed the sight of you beneath him and what would follow these moments would be a pleasurable reconnection, one of kindred souls.

You laid breathlessly on his chest, tracing patterns on his skin. He hummed as you did this, his eyes fluttering in and out. It had been long since he had slept but he was calm and at rest. The morning sun still lit the room, and you had forgotten it was only a few hours past sunrise.

“So,” you said calmly, breathing in his scent, one you missed dearly. “When can I meet your beloved friend?”

Geralts eyes opened at this, a smirk on his lips, “I don’t think friend is quite the term for Jaskier, more of a pleasant nuisance.”

You smiled, propping yourself up on a pillow “Then fine, when can I meet this nuisance?” You corrected yourself, running your fingers through the Witcher’s pearl colored hair.

“If nothing is waiting for you after Blaviken then come with me.” Geralt said staring at the ceiling above him. You leaned over planting a kiss on his lips, smiling broadly. Laying back into his arms, you watched as he fell into a deep sleep. You soon followed and fell into a dream state on top of the man who you thought you would hate forever. But as a dear friend once said to you, your fate is written and those who are fated for each other find each other in the most vulnerable times.

#imagines #send in requests #imagine #my gif edit #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #henry cavill #the witcher #the witchers imagine #the witcher geralt #x reader #geralt of rivia gifs #super long #long fic #sorry #not sorry #took me so long to write #but no regrets

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