#now I’m wondering if I should’ve added this to the post and not just tags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veinsfullofstars · 2 months

Text

⭐ Welcome! ⭐

Henlo. Hope you’re doing well. Thanks for poppin’ by. I’m Veins, an art goblin on the internet with abnormal levels of anxiety and chronic video game brainrot, and this is my introduction post. Any updates or news on my end will be added here as well. I hope you’ll be patient with me and enjoy your visit!

(Last updated 04/20/24)

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Who are you?

What an existentially upsetting question. Well, for the moment, I go by VeinsFullOfStars online, usually shortened to just Veins. I’m also toying around with Ivan or Yves, but Veins is the most preferable. Nice to meet you!

Wait, didn't you already have an account here? With the same username?

I did. I, uh, panic-deleted it in response to the data-scraping fiasco and regretted it almost immediately. As a result, you might see reblogs from the deactivated account still floating around. There is, unfortunately, nothing I can do about those unless the blogs that shared them take them down themselves (and, hey, if you happen to be one of those folks seeing this, I'd super appreciate it if you'd maybe remove the old reblog and replace it with the new one from here if you can). It's my mistake for overreacting, and now I just have to live with it. Sorry for any confusion.

What does your username mean? Where did it come from?

It’s an altered version of a pen name I used in my teen years. I’m too embarrassed to get into specifics, but just know that it comes from a place of very sincere cringe and leave it at that.

What are your preferred pronouns/gender?

Thanks for asking! I’m non-binary, and I use they/them pronouns.

How old are you?

Ancient (in my 30s).

What is your avatar supposed to be?

A goblin. Very smol, very nervous, very puntable.

What are you using this blog for?

Art, mostly. I like to draw digitally and sometimes make stuff with yarn. I've also been writing since I could hold a pencil (though I don’t have much finished, so art will be the main focus for now). Also, expect a lot of reblogs, shitposts, and/or silence between posts - I am a simple hobbyist with a lot of brain nonsense and IRL hurdles. I’ll do my best to post with some regularity, of course, but - again - I hope you’ll be patient with me if things go quiet from time to time.

What are your interests?

I love stories. I love characters. I love folks who can weave whole worlds with nothing but words on a page or color on a canvas. I grew up on fantasy novels, short horror stories, and late ‘90s/early ’00s animation. I learned to appreciate slice-of-life and slow-burn romance much later. Mythology and folklore also slaps, and I wonder sometimes if I should’ve majored in psychology instead of lib arts. My playlists are nothing but video game OSTs with a little heavy metal and j-rock sprinkled in for flavor. I sold my soul to Nintendo years ago, but sometimes I find indie darlings to fall in love with for a time. Dogs are adorable little menaces, and I love them all with my whole chest. Cats are okay, and I am allergic to them. (Does that answer the question? I think I lost track towards the end there…)

Any current hyperfixations?

Tons, but the biggest ones at the moment are Kirby, Hollow Knight, and Paper Mario. More nebulous interests include (in no particular order) Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky, Rain World, Stardew Valley, most Soulsborne titles, Hades, Darkest Dungeon, Good Omens, The Legend of Zelda, Undertale/Deltarune, OFF, The Binding of Isaac, Ace Attorney, Animal Crossing, The Magnus Archives, Sonic the Hedgehog, and countless more. When I say “multifandom,” I mean it, homie.

Do you have any other social media?

Just this and an AO3 account. So, if you see my name anywhere but these two places, it’s probably not me. For now, Tumblr will be the best place to keep up-to-date with my stuff. If anything changes, I’ll let y’all know here.

Do you have a list of tags you use on your posts?

I tag things obsessively, but I’ll try to sort out the most relevant/unique ones I use here:

#veins art - for any art I’ve made (chrono link)

#veins old art - for reposts of older art I made before moving to Tumblr (Note: these posts are here for archival purposes and may not reflect my current style/interests.)

#veins sketches - for any of my unrendered doodles/sketch dumps

#veins ocs - for art I’ve made featuring my original characters/stories

#veins fanart - for art I’ve made featuring characters from other IPs

#veins writes - for any written works I’ve made

#veins ships - for any posts (reblogs included) featuring romantic pairings; I will also try to include specific pairings as “#(blank) x (blank)” and/or any ship names

#veins rambles - for random thoughts/text posts

#veins in dream land - for any rambles/headcanons about the Kirby series specifically

#veins answers - for any of my responses to asks sent in (chrono link)

#veins reblogs - for anything I reblog, obviously

#kirbtober 2023 - for my Kirbtober 2023 art specifically (chrono link)

#childhood friends au - for art from my Kirby AU where Dedede and Meta Knight first met as kids (masterpost | chrono link)

#kintsugi au - for art from my Kirby AU centered around the Mirror World, the Wave 2 gang, and the Darkroach ship - warning: contains angst and some suggestive content (masterpost | chrono link)

I’ll update this with new tags if/when they pop up. Anything else will have generic tags to fit the context of the post. I also mark trigger warnings with tags like “#(blank) tw” if necessary.

What do you use to make your art?

For digital art, I use Clip Studio Paint and a Wacom Intuos Pro S drawing tablet (that I'm pretty sure I've had since high school). I don’t draw traditionally as much anymore, but, when I do, it’s usually just quick sketches with pencil and paper. For writing, I use TextEdit or whatever generic rich text editing software I can find. For crafting, I use yarn and plastic canvas.

What brushes do you use?

For sketching and linework, I generally use the Wick Pencil from the 8 Particle Pencil catalog made by saturns_day. For flats and rendering, I use the default CSP hard round brush, airbrush, and G-pen. For effects and extras (clouds, textures, sparkles, etc.), I use default effects brushes or whatever I can find from the CSP Asset Shop.

Can I share your work through reblogs? And are tags okay?

Of course! Reblogs are absolutely fine and always encouraged. I’m also fine with tags as well (though I ask that you not mark anything as a ship unless I’ve marked it as such on the original post - look for the tag #veins ships if you’re ever unsure).

Can I repost/use your work for my own personal/commercial use?

Absolutely not. While I am always in support of creators inspiring each other with our works and endeavors, that does not mean anyone should engage in art theft (intentional or otherwise). Under no circumstances may you repost, reupload, reproduce, copy, trace, modify, sell, use, tokenize, scrape/integrate into A*I, and/or otherwise claim as your own any of my art/written works. Never assume a piece of art shared online in yours for the taking - that is someone else’s hard work and passion, and you need to respect that.

Can I dub one of your comics?

As flattering as that would be, I worry about lack of credit or my work being stolen for others’ content, so I sadly have to say no.

Why is there a big watermark on your art?

The state of the internet today has made me extremely paranoid about things like art theft, bad-faith reposts, nonconsensual integration, etc., so I make sure to sign and WM anything original I post. I know it’s not exactly fun to look at (maybe even distracting or bad for engagement), but I’d rather be safe than sorry, so I guess I’ll just have to take that hit.

Do you have an askbox? Can we send in questions/comments/etc.?

Yes, the ask box is currently open, and I'm more than happy to receive any questions, comments, etc. you guys might have (even if it makes me a bit nervous, haha)! I just ask that you read the rules first before you submit anything.

Do you take requests/commissions/suggestions/collabs/etc.?

Sadly, I do not take art requests or suggestions unless I put out a specific call for them. I'm also not really in a position to take commissions either. Collabs I'm on the fence about - maybe with mutuals or folks I know personally.

Is this an inclusive space?

Of course! This queer little goblin accepts everyone under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella, along with folks of all shapes, sizes, backgrounds, disabilities, and colors. That said, there will be absolutely no tolerance for (inhale) racism, sexism, transphobia, queerphobia, xenophobia, misogyny/misandry, bigotry of any kind, ableism, p***philia, inc*st, selfc*st, z**philia, RPF, trolling behavior, self-promotion, the promotion of N*FTs or A*I art, or any otherwise harmful, toxic, or hurtful rhetoric. Anyone seen behaving as such will be blocked, reported, and forgotten. :)

Is this an all-ages space?

Hmm… I’m gonna have to say no. While I probably won’t be posting/sharing anything too lewd or graphic, I’m not opposed to things like swearing, angst, fluff bordering on suggestive, and discussions of mature subject matter (all of which I will make sure to tag with content warnings as necessary). Obviously, I can’t police everyone who wanders into this blog, especially since some people omit or lie about their ages online, so the best I can do is ask for good faith on your part. If you are under 18, interact at your own risk. The last thing I want is to make anyone (myself included) uncomfortable because there are kids in an adult-allocated space. Again, I hope you understand.

What is your stance on shipping?

The vernacular around pro- or anti-shipping confuses the hell out of me, so I’ll just try to explain my personal philosophy on it: I have ships I like, ones I’m indifferent to, and ones I won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. I only reblog (and tag) ship-related content I’m in support of, even if it’s not one of my personal favorites. Most importantly, I don’t bother others about their personal preferences. Anything I don’t like or don’t support, I simply do not engage with. Or, if it makes me too uncomfortable, I block outright. The same should apply to your experience as well - if you ever see ship stuff here that you don’t like, feel free to block the tags (look for specific pairings, ship names, and/or my personal tag #veins ships) or even the blog entirely. You are not obligated to like the things I like or engage with media you don’t enjoy. Respect for each other and curation of your personal online space is always key. Additionally, I 100% will not ship minors, blood relations, self x self, anything relating to b*stiality, or anything relating to RPF.

Are you okay?

No, not even a little bit... but fuck it, we keep going.

Why do you put a comma before the “and” in a sequence of three or more words?

You can take my Oxford comma away from me when I’m cold, dead, and rotting in the dirt.

Is there anything else?

Nah, I think we’re good for now. Thanks for taking the time to read all this. Hope it wasn’t too rambly or weird - just trying to cover all my bases. I hope you all have a lovely timezone out there, wherever you are. Be sure to wash your hands, wear your mask, and stay hydrated. Remember to be strong, be safe, and, for the love of dog, be kind. Peace!

-Veins (originally posted 08/07/23, reposted 02/29/24, updated as of 04/20/24)

#veins rambles #introduction post #FAQ #disclaimers #long post #check for updates #veinsfullofstars

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ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 3 years

Note

Will you do a part 3 of your first post?

Request #10

Warning: nsfw, non-con/rape, abuse, torture, one-sided attraction.

Guess who finally learned how to use a freaking semicolon lmao. Also quite happy with how this turned out.

Enjoy!

Part 1 | Previous Part

~~~~

The silence felt deafening but was also a blessing all in one. Hero lay in their dog bed; their body curled up into a tight ball as their nerves ate away at them.

It was late. Villain should've been here by now; they should've been done with 'work' a long time ago. And yet, the hero was all alone in the master bedroom, tensing up more and more with each passing second.

Had something happened, perhaps? Could their Master have been wounded or captured somehow?

No, the henchmen would be in a frenzy if something were to happen to their boss, and nothing but Hero's frantic heartbeat entered their ears.

Hero tried not to think about the other possibility. The possibility that the villain was... preparing something.

W-What if... What if their Master was going to-

"Come." - the simple command sounded in the hero's head, startling them. They stood up, legs shaking under them, threatening to give out.

Just like usual, their Master had left their location in Hero's mind. And this time, they wanted their pet to go to-

t-to...

The hero grasped their chest as panic consumed them.

The torture

The correction room.

Villain- V-Villain was going to-

Tears spilled from their eyes, but Hero knew they had no choice; if they tried to ignore their Master's order, their punishment would only get that much worse.

The pet had tried it once and- and they did not want a repeat of it.

Wiping their eyes and taking a deep breath, they hurried down the halls, fearing they had already kept the villain waiting too long.

Meanwhile, in the torture correction room, Villain grinned as they sensed the hero's terror. They could feel how close their pet's mind was to breaking, to shattering into pieces.

The villain loved that feeling.

Villain was also excited. Although yesterday, their pet had done a good job pleasing them, they still disobeyed them at the start. And as such, they needed to be corrected.

"I'm going to make sure Hero never forgets who they belong to."

The click of a door opening brought Villain out of their thoughts. They turned towards the sound and were met with the lovely sight of their pet shivering in anticipation.

The hero entered the room and closed the door behind themself. Their eyes nervously traveled to the side of the room where all kinds of torture equipment laid and hung neatly organized, ready to be used.

Equipment that they were unfortunately all too familiar with by now.

Looking to the center of the room, their gaze lands on a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling.

The villain beckons them forward, and they silently obey.

"Take off your shirt." - Villain orders and Hero obeys once again, throwing the piece of clothing aside, knowing it doesn't matter.

The villain's pet doesn't dare say a word as their Master locks the chains around their wrists, forcing their arms into the air. This way, should the hero's legs give out beneath them, the chains will forcefully keep them standing.

Hero gulped as Villain moved behind them. They hang their head fearfully, tears threatening to start spilling once more as the villain wrapped their arms around their waist, pressing their bodies flush against each other.

They shivered as their Master's voice whispered in their ear, "Hero... Do you know why you're here?" The sound was gentle, almost concerned, but Hero knew it was all fake; they knew this was only a game to the other.

"B-Because I d-disobeyed you." - they answered, their voice already cracking from their fear.

"Yes, pet, it's because you disobeyed me." - the villain confirmed. "You were a bad pet, and you know what I have to do now, don't you?"

"Y-Yes, Master." - Hero stuttered out, a few sobs escaping them, only adding to their owner's glee.

"I have to remind you who you belong to." - Villain growled out, dropping their gentle act, their change in tone making the hero whimper.

They stalked off to the side and grabbed a freshly sharpened knife. The villain wasted no time wondering what to do, as they had already decided on what their pet's punishment would be ahead of time.

"Since you constantly seem to forget whose property you are..." - Villain started, walking back to their pet, roughly grabbing their chin and forcing them to lock eyes.

"...I'm going to carve it into you so that you never, ever forget it again." - they spat out angrily. The horror in the other's eyes only fueling their rage.

As their Master's words fully registered in Hero's head, they briefly considered struggling, but as the villain's fury flooded their mind, they reconsidered.

"Good choice." - Villain grumbled, moving behind the hero once more. Without hesitation, they stabbed the knife into Hero's back, eliciting a scream from them, and began carving into their skin. Their pet could only howl in agony, unable to escape the villain's wrath; their body tried to move out of the way on instinct, but Hero forced themself to stay still, tensing their muscles so hard that everything hurt even more.

As the pet's blood ran down their back, their cries began to mix with ugly sobs, the sound oddly enticing to Villain's ears. The villain could feel themself getting turned on more and more, their own blood rushing down to their dick, making their pants feel tight.

As they carved another letter into their pet, they swiftly used their free hand to take off the hero's pants, the action only drawing more fearful wails from them.

Villain then unzipped their own pants, freeing their cock from its confinements. A tiny delighted shiver ran through them as Hero's body shuddered at the feeling of their hard dick pressing against their entrance.

They cut the other again in a quick motion and then thrust into them roughly. The hero's screams echoed across the entire room as their Master's shaft painfully stretched their insides.

The villain began to switch between cutting them and fucking them, ruthlessly keeping up the cycle, never giving Hero a moment of rest.

Cut

Thrust

Cut

Thrust

It went on and on for what felt like an eternity to the pet. Their body wanted to collapse on the hard concrete floor below, but the chains at their wrists did not let them; they harshly tagged at their arms, forcing them to stay up and only added to their pain.

As Villain carved another line into them, Hero found themself unable to scream; their throat too hoarse and dry to produce any sound. Their body could only shake in quiet sobs as their Master continued to mark them.

The villain's orgasm began drawing close as their pet's muscles clenched around them, so sweetly tight, and although they were planning to make their pet's punishment last much longer than this, they were quickly growing impatient, and their pet just looked too good like this.

Swiftly carving the last few letters into Hero's back, they threw the knife to the floor, grabbed the hero's hips, leaving bruises beneath their fingers, and began rapidly thrusting into them without care.

The pet's body only silently rocked back and forth as their Master fucked them, the sound of their skin slapping together barely reaching their ears amidst the villain's grunts and moans.

Within a few moments, Hero could feel Villain's hot seed fill them. They wanted to throw up; they could feel the bile rising to their throat, burning it, but they forced it down, not wanting to give the villain a new reason to punish them.

With a few last thrusts for good measure, Villain was satisfied. They pulled out of their pet and moved back a bit, resting against the wall and catching their breath.

Their eyes wandered all over the hero's marked, bloodied body, admiring their handiwork; the words 'VILLAIN'S PROPERTY' were beautifully carved into their pet and would forever decorate their back.

Tucking their dick back into their pants, Villain walked in front of Hero once more. They took hold of the other's chin, lifting it and making their eyes meet. The hero's gaze was tired and empty, with no fight left in them. And their mind?

Broken, shattered into a million pieces, and completely submitted to the villain's will.

"Beautiful." - the pet's Master murmured. Hero could feel their Master's seed going down their thighs, and it made them shiver. A small plea entered their eyes, silently begging the other to end this already.

They- They had learned their lesson. Hero would never disobey Master again; they- They would be a good pet. They swore they would be a good pet.

"Just, please, Master, please. Please, please, please, please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."

As the hero begged in their mind, Villain grinned, pleased with the results. They let go of Hero's chin, letting their head fall back down, and undid their restraints, allowing their body to crumple to the floor.

As the villain walked over them and out the door, only the grateful but terrified words of 'Thank you, Master.' echoed in their head over and over as they left their pet to lie there on the floor in a mixture of their own blood and Villain's cum.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #hero #villain #whump #pet whump #villain whumper #hero whumpee #whump prompt #request prompts #prompt request #request

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spacexcowgirl · 3 years

Text

Hate To Think About You With Somebody Else - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N used to be friends with benefits, but that arrangement ended in heartbreak. Can Fred handle seeing her out with somebody else?

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MINORS DNI. Mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, small bit of violence/fight scene (the reader and Fred are not injured), possessive talk, fingering, degradation, bondage, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, a bit angsty with a happy ending. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

A/N: For @theweasleytwinsgirl who asked for the reader teasing Fred, leading to her being tied up! I added a bit of plot to it, because I cannot help it. Obviously, this fic is lightly inspired by “Somebody Else” by The 1975. I am not very confident in my smut writing abilities, so any feedback would be appreciated! I also feel I should thank @lumosandnoxwriting for giving me advice and reassurance throughout writing this. Pictures are from Pinterest.

I have not included all of my general taglist, because I do not know who is 18+ or who wants to be tagged in smut.

Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia sat leisurely around the twins’ shared living room, laughing and giggling over drinks. The past few weeks had been hell at the shop, so the boys felt they needed a much deserved night to just relax. Previously, Fred would have liked nothing more than to relieve his tension with Y/N, but unfortunately, that was no longer an option.

“Have you heard about Y/N and Pucey?” Angelina prodded with a giggle, her eyes alit with mischief.

Fred’s jaw immediately clenched at the sound of her name, his grip on his glass tightening. He most certainly hadn’t heard about her in a few weeks, and he hadn’t expected to have such a visceral reaction at the mere mention of her name. Regaining his composure, he forced himself to relax a bit and quirk a brow, feigning both confusion and interest.

“No? They shagging?” George questioned, sitting forward in his seat.

“Apparently, but I guess it’s becoming a bit more serious than just that.” Angelina shrugged, turning her gaze to Alicia beside her for confirmation. When the second girl nodded, Fred downed another gulp of his drink.

That can’t be right, he thought. It hadn’t even been a month since the last time they had been together, Y/N pinned beneath him as breathy moans escaped her lips. In the dim light of his bedroom, she had whispered to him that her pussy was his, that she was his, and now, apparently, she was with someone else. Some part of him knew that he had no right to be upset, because truthfully, it was his choice to end their little arrangement. But she had left him no choice after breaking their number one rule.

Y/N and Fred had ventured past friendly acquaintanceship about a year before, after a few too many firewhiskys at an infamous Weasley twins’ party. The morning after, they had tiptoed around each other, clearly uncomfortable by the change in dynamic. But it didn’t take long for it to happen again, and again, and again. Before either of them had really realized it, they had become much more than friends but much less than really together, and Fred wanted to keep it that way. He wanted them to remain in that middle ground.

As far as he knew, Y/N was more than fine with where they stood with each other. Until one day, she wasn’t. He remembered clearly how she had bit her lip and gazed at him, only moments after finishing him off with her mouth. He had looked at her curiously, wondering where her usual, joking, post-coital self had gone.

“Have you ever thought of me as more than, you know, just an easy fuck?”

Her words had shocked him, because they certainly weren’t the turn of phrase he would have used. He didn’t think of her as ‘an easy fuck,’ he thought of her as a friend. Someone he cared deeply for. But as he gazed into her desperate eyes, he was struck with the realization that he didn’t care for her the way she hoped. He had swallowed deeply, preparing his words in his mind, before shattering her heart.

Now, he wasn’t sure why he cared. Sure, he had thought about her a lot in the weeks they’d been apart, but he was always so sure that he had made the right choice. Relationships were messy, and he was young, so he had no intention to be tied down so soon. Still, the thought of her with Adrian Pucey made his blood boil, and he wished desperately that he could put an explanation to the feeling.

“Fred?”

The sound of his name tore him from his thoughts of Y/N, and he quickly plastered on his signature goofy grin before sitting forward and re-immersing himself in the conversation. Still, in the back of his mind, images of Y/N and Adrian played on repeat, fueling a fire that he hadn’t realized was a lit within him.

A week later, Fred found himself at a party at Oliver Wood’s flat, celebrating a win for Puddlemere United. There was an array of different people there, ranging from his old Hogwarts team, to groupies, to people who had just showed up at the mention of a party. Fred had planned on getting drunk that night, but after seeing George and Lee sloppily grinding on a few witches in an intoxicated bliss, he decided maybe—for once—he would be the responsible one.

Fred had gone nearly an hour, just barely nursing a glass of firewhisky and chatting with old friends jovially, before his eyes landed on a familiar face entering the party.

Fred was frozen at the eye contact they held, his first time seeing her in weeks. Y/N held the gaze for a moment, before turning to grip Adrian’s wrist behind her and drag him further into the party. If Fred thought he had a strong reaction to hearing about their relationship, it was nothing compared to actually seeing it. Fred slammed his drink down and walked away from the poor girl he had been chatting with without so much as an explanation.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fred clapped a hand down on George’s shoulder the moment he reached him, pulling his attention away from the girl dancing against him.

“Now?” George questioned incredulously, his brows raising. He gestured to the girl in his arms before returning a pleading look to his brother. “Come on, mate. This isn’t a great time.”

Fred knew he could convince his brother to leave if he explained, but his mouth felt entirely too dry. He couldn’t seem to formulate the words as to why he needed to get out of there. So, instead, he sighed and offered his brother a nod before retreating back to the outskirts of the people dancing.

Normally, Fred was the life of the party. By this point in the night, he’d usually be plastered and singing or dancing with no remorse. But seeing Y/N with a bloke like Pucey caused him to have an entire demeanor change, leaving him scowling leaned against the wall.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Y/N amongst those dancing, pressed closely to Pucey behind her. She was dancing provocatively, even turning in the man’s grasp every little bit to kiss him sloppily. At first, Fred had been almost certain that she was doing it on purpose. The way she was right in his line of vision, acting completely out of character in her open demeanor, it all felt like too much for him to handle.

Then, she made eye contact with him, and held it, and he just knew. She was doing it on purpose. All of her actions had been a way to get him worked up, to see if he would get jealous, and dammit it was working. Fred chewed on the inside of his cheek, holding her gaze as she grinded her bum against Pucey. She held his gaze as she slowly craned her neck and pulled Adrian into a searing kiss, her eyes back on Fred the moment the two pulled apart.

That was the final straw for Fred. He wasn’t going to stand idly by while she taunted him so openly, showing him everything he was missing. So, he pushed through the crowd of people and found his way to the two of them, ignoring the small smirk that had risen on her face.

“Y/N,” He breathed out, just loud enough for her to hear over the music. Suddenly, he was entirely unsure of his next move, but he desperately wanted to regain control over the situation. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oi, what the hell, Weasley?” Adrian paused his dancing, although his hands remained gripped on Y/N’s waist. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy here?”

Fred completely ignored the man at first, his eyes never leaving Y/N. He could see by the look on her face that he had played exactly into what she wanted, but with the jealousy coursing through him, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She smirked slightly at Fred before craning her neck to look back at Adrian, almost as if she were challenging him to fight for her further.

“I can see,” Fred seethed, finally looking up at Adrian. “I can see a poor girl not having a very good time. So, I’m offering her a better option. Why don’t you let her decide?”

Adrian scoffed, taking a small step back from Y/N but keeping one hand on her hip. He looked down at her, waiting expectantly for her to deny any desire to go off with Fred. When she simply glanced between the two of them, Adrian’s brows furrowed and a look of offense overtook his features.

“Come on, Y/N.” He pleaded. “Tell him.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, the action only infuriating Adrian further. He looked at her incredulously before scoffing and turning his head away.

“Should’ve known a desperate little slut like you couldn’t be loyal.”

In an instant, Fred pushed Y/N out of the way and landed a hard blow to Adrian’s jaw. Y/N was dazed, everything seeming to move in slow motion as all eyes turned on them. Adrian had faltered only for a moment, cupping his jaw in his hand before straightening up and lunging towards Fred.

Luckily, George and Lee were there after a moment, tearing Adrian away and threatening to pummel him as they marched him towards the door. Y/N knew Fred wouldn’t need their help in a fight, but she was still grateful that a full out brawl hadn’t occurred because of her. Y/N rushed to Fred, cradling his fist in her hand and glancing up at his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, but the music had stopped, so he could hear her.

“‘m fine.” He answered curtly, glancing between the way she held his hand and her eyes. “So, can we get out of here?”

Y/N’s lips formed into a tight line, so as to conceal the smirk that desperately wanted to break through. She offered him a quick nod, and in an instant he was dragging her out the door and apparating her back to his flat.

The moment that they were in Fred’s room and the door shut, his lips were on hers. Her back was pressed up against his door, desperate little moans leaving her mouth as she reveled in the feeling of having him against her once more. Fred took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted, taking full control of the situation.

Y/N was more than content to let him take over, having missed him in their time apart more than she would ever like to admit. Of course, the feelings she still held for him lingered strongly, but she tried not to think about that as Fred pressed himself further against her. Adrian had been nothing more than a distraction, a feeble hope that she had held onto as a way to get over the tall red head, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She felt a bit bad, because she knew Adrian cared about her far more deeply than she did him, but she also knew she had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship. The irony was sickening.

“That was quite a show you were putting on tonight.” Fred pulled away from her breathlessly, his eyes tracking up and down her body.

“Yeah?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun.”

A low growl crawled out of his throat as he pressed his lips to hers once more, using more force than previously. Y/N squeaked at the intensity, but quickly melted into him. His hands trailed up and down her sides as she rested her own around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

Fred’s hands finally made their way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach and sending a shockwave throughout her. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up, raising her shirt up in his wake. Y/N was quick to oblige, breaking away from him to allow him to tear the garment off completely.

For a moment, Fred’s eyes trailed over her slightly revealed form, drinking in the way she looked half-naked. He hadn’t realized how much he missed seeing her like this, and he found that his breath hitched at even the littlest bit of exposure.

As his eyes met her pleading ones, he quickly recovered. Their passion resumed in an instant as he pressed his lips to hers once more, spinning her away from the door and walking her backwards towards his bed. Y/N allowed him to lightly push her back onto it, her heart fluttering at the sudden gentleness of his actions. She’d always loved the dominance he held over her, but something about what was happening between them now felt different. But, as he draped his body over her own, all of her hopes of actual romance melted away and her mind was entirely clouded with just the appeal of him.

Y/N arched herself against Fred, giving him the space to unclasp her bra. He slid the straps down her arms slowly, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck, until he finally met the tops of her breasts. He cast her bra aside, shooting her one last look before taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned at the contact, her fingers immediately threading themselves through his flaming hair. As his teeth gently grazed her nipple she gave his hair a tug, causing him to moan against her.

Fred continued his trail downward, planting kisses down her torso until he made it to the band of her leggings. Y/N lifted her hips and Fred held eye contact with her as he slowly pulled them down her legs. Y/N realized that he seemed to be drawing all of this out, pushing her to the point of pure desperation to make her pay for teasing him all night. Still, she bit her tongue and held back any thoughts of pleading with him, she couldn’t give in that easy.

When she was left in nothing but her panties, Fred sat back on his knees and leisurely unbuttoned his shirt. Y/N watched him intently, her frustration increasing significantly, until she could no longer contain it. She let out a desperate whine, pleading with the man with her eyes alone.

“Something wrong, love?” Fred cocked his head to the side and smirked.

“Freddie,” Y/N whined, the nickname feeling foreign yet fitting on her tongue.

Fred discarded his shirt before circling his hand around on of her ankles and hitching it up on his shoulder. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle before slowly trailing kisses back up her leg towards her thigh. Y/N shuttered as his lips ghosted over her clothed pussy, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Please.”

Fred looped one finger under the hem of her lace panties, but made no effort to pull them down. When a low chuckle escaped his lips, Y/N knew she was in trouble. Her eyes flew open once more, immediately meeting his darkened, lust-filled ones.

“Did you really think I’d give in that easy?” Fred mocked, punctuating his question by snapping the band of her underwear. “You tease me all night, putting on a show for me, acting like a desperate little slut.” He paused to wet his lips, drinking in the soft moan that escaped from her lips. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Freddie.”

“Really?” Fred scoffed, sitting back up to begin fiddling with his belt. Y/N raised herself up on her forearms, desperation and arousal pooling in her core. “Because it didn’t seem that way tonight.” Fred’s tongue darted out of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as he gazed at her hungrily. “Think maybe I might need to remind you whose slut you are. What do you think?”

She whimpered, but managed a feeble nod. In their previous times together, her and Fred were nothing if not adventurous in the bedroom. Still, as he waved his wand and bound her wrists to his headboard, she couldn’t help but gasp and lightly fight against the restraints. Fred held a devilish smirk at her plight as he stood from the bed and sat his wand back down.

Fred crawled back over her, his intense dominance faltering for just a moment as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Still remember the safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, Freddie.” She managed to speak, although it was difficult. Fred leaned back and searched her eyes for a moment before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to her lips. After that, any sense of gentleness faded.

Fred’s lips sucked and bit at her neck hungrily, one of his large hands trailing down to rub her through her panties while the other massaged her breast. Y/N’s thighs clamped around his hand, which quickly earned her a light swat to her hip.

“Stay still, or I’ll have no problem tying your legs up too.” Fred growled against her neck.

Y/N quickly obliged, spreading her legs further open. While previously she may have been more inclined to push Fred a bit, her mind was too clouded with lust to do anything but obey him. After weeks of mediocre sex with Adrian, she was ready to completely give herself over to Fred, and let him have her in anyway he wanted.

Fred’s hand pushed the fabric of her panties aside, allowing one finger to drag through her wet folds. She was already soaking wet for him, despite the fact he’d hardly touched her. Without a warning, he plunged one finger into her, lightly moaning at the way she constricted around him. Y/N’s back arched ever so slightly against him, tugging futilely against her bound wrists. He set a steady pace, thrusting his finger in and out of her before adding another and scissoring the two. He changed pace after a moment, beginning to curl his fingers up into her as his thumb rubbed circles against her waiting clit. The pressure in her core grew quickly from that, and she couldn’t help the way she loudly moaned out.

“Right there, yes, oh god…”

Fred was now smirking as he pulled away from her neck, significantly satisfied with the many markings he’d left as well as how quickly he could bring her to this point. He knew her body like the back of his hand, he knew her signs for when she was close, and it made it so much easier to enact his plan.

Just as Y/N was teetering on the edge, desperate whines and random babbles leaving her lips, Fred pulled his hand away. She let out a frustrated and confused groan, her eyes flying open as she felt the build up slowly slip away. Fred just grinned at her, before getting off the bed and ridding himself of his trousers and boxers. He lazily stroked himself as he took her in, chest heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, completely at his mercy. She had stopped her attempts at fighting her restraints, looking at him like she were almost defeated. In her mind, she’d begun to fear the very real possibility that Fred wouldn’t let her cum at all.

“You seem frustrated.” Fred cooed mockingly, coming to lean back over her and gently brush her cheek. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Fred.” Y/N spoke firmly, though her eyes portrayed her fears. “You’ve got to let me finish.”

“Hm.” Fred seemed to ponder that, leaning back to slowly pull her panties down her legs. “I don’t think I have to do anything. In fact, I could just leave you here all tied up and needy.”

“Please,” Y/N whined, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s a start.” Fred tutted, finally discarding her panties aside. He leaned down near her ear once more, his warm breath sending a chill down her spine. “What I’d really like, though, is to hear how much you need me. Wanna hear you say it.”

“Please, Freddie, I need your cock so bad. Need you to ruin me.” Y/N cried out, losing all sense of dignity as her sex-addled brain took over. Fred had intended to tease her much longer, but her desperate pleas were going straight to his cock, and he couldn’t hold out any longer.

“That’s all you had to say, love.”

Fred hitched her leg around his hip, gripping his cock in his free hand. He teased the head through her wet folds, shivering at the moan she let out from just the smallest contact. Then, he pushed his hips forward, not stopping until he was completely buried in her. Their low moans mixed together in the quiet of the room, Fred being careful not to move until he was sure she had adjusted to his size.

“Fuck, I forgot how fucking good you feel.” He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

“Move… Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Fred pulled out about halfway before snapping his hips back forward, setting a brutal but steady pace. Y/N’s loud moans and Fred’s grunts mixed together, accompanied only by the sound of their skin on skin contact. Y/N could feel her orgasm building again as his dick hit her g-spot with every thrust, and she was almost embarrassed by how quickly he could bring her to this point.

“‘m so close, Freddie.” Y/N breathed out, knowing it would only infuriate him further if she came without his permission.

“Already?” Fred scoffed, although he knew he wasn’t far behind.

Still, he wasn’t ready for things to end so soon, so he pulled out completely, ignoring the desperate whine that left her throat. He pulled both of her legs together and pushed her knees up against her chest, holding her ankles together with one hand before thrusting back into her desperate cunt. The new position allowed him to hit deeper within her as he thrust downward, causing Y/N to scream out. The pain was delicious, it was everything she had longed for in their time apart.

“You really think you deserve to cum?” Fred grunted, landing a particularly hard thrust into her. “After everything you pulled tonight?”

“Please.” Y/N whined. She was so close, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it if he stole another orgasm from her.

“Answer the question, slut.” Fred demanded, his pace quickening ever so slightly. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A desperate little cum slut.”

“Yes.” Y/N cried out. “But only for you, Freddie. Just a slut for you.”

“That’s right.” Fred’s rhythm had begun to falter, approaching his own orgasm quickly. Still, he was unsure if he’d let her finish or not. “You’re my little slut. Only I get to call you that, right?”

“Yes, Freddie.” Y/N whined, beginning to tug again on her restraints. She wanted nothing more than to scrape her nails down his back, but being completely at his mercy turned her on endlessly.

“Good.” Fred was close, so fucking close, but he had made his decision. So he had to hold off. “Cum for me, then. You’ve earned it.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and as Fred hit one more thrust into her g-spot she was tumbling over the edge. Electricity seemed to shoot all throughout her body as she loudly moaned out his name. Her legs were shaking and she was certain she’d be sore tomorrow, but she had little time to care about that as he continued to pound into her.

Y/N knew Fred well, just as well as he knew her, so she knew he was close. Her mind felt almost entirely blank and she wasn’t sure she had much energy for anything, but she wanted to bring him to his release badly. So, she clenched around him, a moan leaving her lips when he stuttered and groaned. His thrusts were faltering significantly, and after a few moments he was crying out her name as he finished in her.

Fred pulled out and dropped her legs before crashing down next to her. He knew that he needed to untie her, but they also both just needed a moment to breathe. All that could be heard was the sounds of their mixed pants as they both came down from their highs. Once he was significantly more relaxed, he gripped his wand and swished it lazily, effectively removing the restraints she was held in.

Y/N hands dropped down and she quickly went to rub at her wrists, but Fred was quick to bat her hands away and do it himself. He examined both wrist closely, seeming to want to ensure that they were okay.

“They weren’t too tight, were they?” Fred implored after a moment. His genuine concern made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“No, they were perfect—all of it was perfect.” She sighed as she pulled away from him. Her general cognition was beginning to return, and with it her fears of all of the pain she had gone through in the past etched their way through.

Sure, Fred had clearly gotten jealous at the party. Then, he had gotten possessive and claimed her in the bedroom. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he harbored the same feelings for her that she had for him. The fear nearly paralyzed her, and she wasn’t sure if she should quickly redress and flee the room or implore what this all meant. Luckily, he answered her internal questioning before she even had to ask.

“I don’t want to see you out with Pucey.” Fred sighed, his eyes not meeting hers. “Which is a total prat thing to say, but it’s true. I don’t want to see you out with any bloke, really.”

“Fred…” Y/N spoke tentatively, her eyes begging him to speak further.

“I want you, Y/N. Like, really.” Fred finally met her gaze. “Not just in my bed.”

“What, do you want me on the couch too?” Y/N tried to joke, hoping it would cover up her nervous tone. But it didn’t. So, her voice became soft. “Don’t get my hopes up, Freddie.”

“I’m being serious.” He shook his head. “I want to take you out on fancy dates, or watch movies with you on my couch. Bloody hell, I want to bring you to my parent’s house for Sunday dinners. I don’t know, I’m not good at this. Whatever it is that couples do.”

“Fred Weasley,” A small smile had begun to grow on Y/N’s face. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” Fred answered earnestly. “That is, only if you’re going to say yes. Otherwise, this was all just a joke—”

Y/N shut him up by pressing her lips to his, her mouth still curled upwards in a smile. It was impossible to hide the genuine happiness that his words brought her.

“Yes.” She answered softly as she pulled away.

A similar smile began to grow on Fred’s face as he completely registered her words, and he couldn’t help but dive back in for another kiss. Y/N was his, completely. Something he’d probably wanted for so long, but had simply been too daft to realize it. Now, as he held her in his arms, he promised himself he’d never make such a mistake again.

Tagging a few 18+ mutuals from my usual taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @theweasleysredhair

#fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #Fred Weasley fanfic

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justreadingfics · 4 years

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It’s a Deal -Ch. 13

Chapter Summary: Old memories come back to you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: angsty internal thoughts, no Bucky this chapter.

A/N: Here it is. I’m sorry I ended up not reblogging all the comments on last chapter before I post this one, but I’ve read and cherish them all, please don’t doubt that. Thank you, incredible Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer you’re a Queen around here. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

You bet that if you told anyone about the scene playing out in your apartment right now, people would scoff their asses off at your face: Saturday afternoon, your living room, the Leader of the Avengers Tech Team, the Director of SHIELD – probably the most powerful organization in the world- and one of the scariest, if not the scariest spy to ever walk on earth. All three of you sitting on your carpet, barefeet, wearing tops and tiny shorts due the heat brought by the bright sun slipping through your windows. A big bowl of popcorn in the center and innumerous chocolate bars everywhere.

Those afternoons with the three of you are a rare event. First, you had your relationship with Eddie to blame, but now it’s mainly due to your work schedules that almost never are in sync, but whenever there’s an opportunity, there you are.

Your phone's message alerts ringing together bursts into the conversation and the three of you grab your devices simultaneously. You were dreading to see what it was, sure it was something from work, but a huge smile widens in your lips at what you see on your screen.

“Jesus…” Nat says, while, laughing, you three turn the screens to one another, confirming you have received the same message. “Bucky’s a lost cause with that cat. That’s the millionth picture I received of her this week. And she’s always doing something extremely exciting like… sleeping.” She rolls her eyes.

“But we have to admit that little asshole is kinda cute,” Sharon comments looking back at her screen and the picture of the, indeed, sleeping cat.

“She is, right?” You agree, with a huge smile on your face. You and Alpine may have had a somewhat rough start, but you can’t help but admit she’s an adorable little jerk who’s just very protective of her human.

“By the way,” Natasha smirks at you, putting her phone back on her pocket, “I had no idea that was what he meant when he said he would romance the shit out of you.”

“It suits perfectly, though,” Sharon comments, shaking her head and laughing with her.

“It does. Shame on me, I should’ve known better.” Nat agrees.

“He said that?” You ask with peaked interest you try to disguise in the quietness of your tone while you bite the corner of your lips.

The curiosity in the information doesn’t go unnoticed by them, who just snicker at each other. You decide to ignore that.

“The dude is smitten, Y/N, wake the fuck up.” Natasha not so gently throws a popcorn right on your face.

“Hey,” you whine.

“And so is she, giving that little dreamy look on her face. Wake the fuck up indeed.” Sharon sides with Nat with a huff.

“I’ve created two monsters…” Nat comments like you weren’t even in the room, referring to the fact she is the one who brought you two together.

“It’s not like that…” You barge in their little interaction, catching their attention, before folding your legs up and holding your knees, “I mean… yeah, of course… I can’t help having feelings for Bucky, I mean… he’s…” you pause, searching for the right words to describe him, “He’s Bucky.” You shrug… a small smile curling your lips, “He’s Bucky…” you repeat with a sigh while your gaze wanders away…

It’s just you don’t really need anything else to justify why it’s so inevitable to grow feelings for him and your friends catch on to what you mean, because when you look back at them, they both have stupid and dreamily little looks at you… ones that don’t fit to a couple of spies.

You clear your throat, letting your initial line of thoughts come back to you, “But it’s not that simple… There’s…’ you falter.

“There’s what?” Nat insists, in a kind way.

But “Who” was the more proper pronoun.

“Eddie…” You whisper.

“Argh…” Sharon groans, tilting her face to her side before, looking back at you, “What about Eddie?”

It was just yesterday that you had your little “encounter” with Bucky. You know it was no coincidence he was there, the little shit must’ve tracked you down… but you couldn’t make yourself care about that when it was so amazing… incredible… Not only the fact that he went down on you in such a shameless way and gave you a mind-blowing orgasm, like he always does. It was also the way he spoke to you…his attitude… not really imposing himself… encouraging you to have fun with your friends… no sign of jealousy. It made you feel special and free and… loved. Really loved for who you are and not for who you make yourself to be to please and that is a tremendously powerful feeling.

Still… you have mixed feelings about it all and Eddie is the reason. Being there with him felt familiar and comfortable, but, in some way different… better than before. It makes you think that he really is engaged into finding not just a way back to you, but also a way to make your relationship work and it certainly weighs over your heart.

You tell your friends all of that.

“Did Eddie notice anything?” Nat asks, reaching over for some popcorn.

“I don’t know,” you answer, “He wasn’t at the table when I returned, but he came back shortly, my friends were still talking about it, but we changed to subject once we saw him. The girls didn’t comment anything again, and he acted normal… I guess he didn’t.” You shrug, starting to bite on your nails.

There’s an annoying little feeling rising in you since the night before and, thinking over it, you recognize it as guilt. Guilt for doing that with Bucky while Eddie was there in Club, guilt for not being bothered by Bucky’s presence, while, at least initially, you were bothered by Eddie’s, guilty for enjoying that Bucky was the one who actively made a move when Eddie didn’t, for missing him more than you missed Eddie, for feeling more positively about his change of mind than Eddie’s, for wanting Bucky more…

Guilt because you know you’re falling for him. For Bucky. And there’s little you can do to stop it.

“What is it?” Sharon asks, tightening her lips and nodding at where you’re chewing your nails.

You promptly stop, bringing your hands to around your knees again, “I guess I wasn’t expecting either of them there.” You decide not to share your most recent thoughts with them.

“You know why both of them were there. It was definitely not a coincidence.” Nat reminds you.

“I know… but it's ok, they were polite...” You brush it off but add, quickly, fighting back a smile at the memories that flashes in your mind, “In their own way.”

“Polite? Even when Bucky had his face up your pussy?” Sharon teases, not letting that one go, and making you give in and let out a laugh while you hide your face with your hands for a moment.

“I was pretty excited to find out he was there, actually,” you admit and their faces light up, which you assume is prompted by your own expression. “It was a thrilling sensation… I can’t quite explain.”

“He really is in love with you…Bucky…” Nat tightens her lips and tilts her head.

You sigh, looking back at her, “I know…” You admit.

They both keep waiting for you to say something else but you don’t know what you could say. No… as a matter of fact, you do. You’re just not ready to put your thoughts out in the world. At first, you had your doubts if what Bucky was feeling was really that deep… but now… something has changed. You believe him. You really do. And you know you’re falling for him, too, but…

Eddie was the one you wanted for so long… you’ve made so many plans with him… Long term plans. You used to see yourself growing old with him and that’s an image that still somehow haunts your feelings. And now… the fact that guilt surrounds the feelings arising for Bucky inside you makes you feel like a cheater. You didn’t feel that when it was just sex, but now you do. And you’re damn scared.

What if you surrender to your feelings now and go to Bucky and then comes a day you’ll realize that you were wrong and Eddie will still be the one you really want? You wanted him for so long… can that really have changed? How can one let go of that feeling, that certainty of being right for each other, without being afraid of doing the wrong thing? And if that happens, if you do the wrong thing now, you will eventually hurt Bucky and that’s definitely the last thing you want.

That’s fucked up and you know it. But it’s what you’re feeling.

You keep it to yourself, though.

~~~

It’s a few hours after the girls left your place, you take a refreshing and long bath and are about to put on a movie to relax a bit more for the rest of the evening. Maybe that way you can put your thoughts and feelings in order.

That duality of emotions is crushing your mind. You wanted some time alone and you had that… now, you can’t help the feeling that you need to come to a decision, a conclusion of some sort, you just can’t keep pushing it further. For better or for worse. Or you will lose your mind soon.

A comfort movie is in order for all the thinking you need to do, so you set “The Prisoner of Azkaban” on your TV before you head to the kitchen. You’re still pretty full of all the junk food the three of you made a feast of the whole afternoon, so you decide to prepare just an old recipe of peach iced tea your mom has taught you. Perfect for the hot weather, too.

You’ve just added the ice in the jar when your intercom rings. You frown wondering who could that be and check your phone for any missed calls or messages, finding none before answering the intercom.

“Yeah? Oh… no, yeah, sure, come up.” You press the button to let him in. Your heart beats just slightly faster, wondering what could he possibly be doing there.

“Hi,” he greets, once you open the door after he pressed the ringer.

“Hi,” you answer, and without even thinking, just keep staring at him, blocking his way into your apartment while he stands at your door, holding a big box in his hands.

“Can I come in?” He asks, when you say nothing else.

“Oh, yeah, of course, sorry.” You step aside, allowing Eddie to walk into your living room with a tight smile on his lips.

“Please,” you gesture towards your sofa and he nods, walking with you over there, “I was about to pour me some iced tea, would you like some?” You offer, tentativeness still present in your tone, while the big box secured in his hands grasps your attention for a second.

“Your mom’s recipe?” He asks, his whole face lightening up as he takes his seat.

You chuckle and nod.

“Oh, hell yeah, then.”

You take just a little longer than you actually need to fix the tea for the two of you in the kitchen. For some reason, his presence, after the night before, what you did with Bucky and after you coming to terms that you are, indeed, growing feelings for the other guy… it just unsettles you.

After taking a deep breath or two, you come back to the living room. Some small conversation ensues while you take a seat by his side and you two drink from the tea you’ve just prepared.

“Ahm…What’s that?” At some point you give in to the curiosity and nod towards the box now on your center table.

He smiles, before placing his cup on your table and taking the box in his hands. He shifts on the sofa, making room for placing it on one of the cushions between the two of you. “I was taking a look at it at home earlier, it just… I couldn’t help myself… and decided to come by to show you.”

When he opens the lid, placing it aside, you take in the contents, which makes your heart beat a bit funny at the surprise. You recognize pictures of the two of you, letters, a few souvenirs… All of them represent a memory of your relationship.

“Oh…” you say. You know all that stuff had been stashed in some place, but you never knew he had taken them with him once he moved out.

“Yeah…” Eddie brushes the back of his neck, peering at you from beneath his lashes, “I guess I really wasn’t that confident about my decision when I left…” he shrugs, looking down at the box again, “I just couldn’t leave it behind.”

You give him a tightened and brief smile, before placing your teacup on the table and starting to fumble through the items inside the box. You let out a breathy laugh when you find a picture of the day you two have met… he had founded a study group on advanced software creating techniques and you were the only one to show up.

“Oh my God…” you laugh.

“Yeah… what a couple of nerds,” Eddie chuckles, looking at the picture.

He helps you through the shuffling when you go through some more pictures from college, his family, your family… the day you two closed the deal to buy the apartment… the letter you received when you were both accepted in the Avengers tech team…

You feel the tears gathering in your eyes before they start silently rolling down your cheeks… It’s a weird sensation, it’s like meeting with an old part of yourself, an old friend. One that has never really left, but you almost don’t recognize anymore… leading to a nostalgic and longing feeling.

They’re all good memories stashed on that box… of course… you guess no one is really keen to proposedly keep a souvenir from the bad ones… but that’s not on what your focus lays right now. Your attention is caught by a particular thing from the box. A small gasp escapes your lungs at the sight.

You look up at Eddie, whose eyes have been intensely trained on you, before you grab the object in your hands.

It’s a scrapbook you two have made through college years. While you silently and carefully go through the pages your life passes in front of your eyes. Movie and concert tickets… more pictures… a few drawings… software ideas you had together… little notes you’ve written to each other… and then, on the very last couple of pages, there they are.

You remember them. The day you two decided to write a letter to each other, telling how you wanted your future to be.

You roam your fingers through the frayed papers… you don’t have to read them again to know what’s there. You remember. Without knowing, in the end you two had written the exact same thing in both letters… among other small stuff, you two wrote you wanted a kick ass job, live in the city in an apartment of your own… and stay together forever.

Your watery gaze follows when Eddie slides down to the floor and kneels before you, taking your hands in his, “I meant every word then and I still do,” he says, softly, staring deeply into your eyes, “I can’t see my future without you… I just can’t.” He shakes his head, before it drops.

You see how his lips twist before he looks up at you again, with a saddened look on his face, “I know how that guy makes you feel…”

Your body freezes just as your heart does and you feel the precise moment when it splits in two. That heavy sensation comes back to your chest when the image of Bucky pops into your mind and suddenly there are two lives running before your eyes. One there, with Eddie, with everything you've ever dreamed of… the other running straight into Bucky's arms and leaving all of that behind.

And you know there's only one right for you.

You're brought back to reality by the sound of Eddie's voice.

“I- I know about what happened last night, I, ahm, I’ve heard the girls…” he stammers but holds his hold on your hands when you shift on your seat and he senses your discomfort. “No… it’s ok. “I know it’s new… it’s exciting…” he continues, nodding and hastily licking his lips, “And you deserve to explore that. You do… it’s ok.” He puts on a small smile, “But I want you to know that I’m here. I’m waiting for you. I’m waiting for us… for our future. No matter how long it takes. How much fun you need to have with that guy before you realize what I already know.” He smiles wider, “Because I know you and I are it. We’ve always been it.”

You’re frowning while looking down at him. His words making their way into your senses.

You free one hand of his secured hold to reach over and cup his smiling face.

He leans into your touch.

You make a decision.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #it´s a deal #it's a deal ch. 13

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is-it-madness · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind Of Birthday Night

A/N: Happy Birthday, my darling friend @fadingcoast!!! This is for you, dear heart. Here’s hoping for a wonderful year for you. Love you 🥳💜💜 Thank you for encouraging me to post this and for betaing. You are absolutely incredible.

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Summary: It’s your birthday and Loki gives you a gift you’re sure to never forget

Warnings: This being my first smut should be warning enough. But also... D/s dynamics, kinda sub!Loki, oral sex (f receiving), fingering. I believe that’s it.

Word count: 1356

It was evening when you finally came home from work.

After working a full shift at the hospital, you felt gross, contaminated. Kicking off your shoes and tossing your keys down, you headed to the bathroom, wanting to wash the day’s grime off you.

You rubbed your eyes when you entered the bathroom, only to blink several times when realizing the tub was lavishly prepared for you. You smiled slightly, knowing only one man would’ve done this for you.

“Hello, my love.”

How you’re never able to sense his presence when he stood behind you, is something you’ll never figure out. You only knew he was there if he said something, or if he placed a hand on your waist, pulling you against him.

You spun around, grinning for what was probably the first time today. “Hi.”

The tension in your shoulders relaxed as you took in the sight of him gloriously bare from the waist up. Sitting enticingly low on his hips, were a pair of sweats. You could tell that he wanted to kiss you, to pull you into his embrace, to hold you flush against him. The want was clear in his eyes.

But you shook your head. “Bath-”

“-first,” he finished your sentence. “Yes, yes, I know the requirements, love.” A ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips. “I have no qualms. This time.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Loki grins and kisses the tip of your nose. “You’ll see. After your bath.”

A few minutes ago, you might’ve been exhausted and ready to collapse in bed. But that smile? With that mischievous glint in his eyes? Oh... now your interest was piqued. Whatever he had in store for you was sure to be more than interesting.

He took your chin between his fingers and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now, in you get.”

You rolled your eyes at him, which earned you a playful smack to your ass, making you giggle. Loki heads to your shared bedroom to do... well, who knows what he has planned, and you stripped before sinking into the invitingly warm water.

When you walked in the room, you were greeted by a sight you weren’t expecting.

“Loki?”

Loki was sitting on the floor, completely stripped, and looking at you with a demure expression.

It wasn’t often you saw him behave like this. Maybe twice before. But when he did, you relished in it. It meant you were in charge tonight. It meant he was yours to control, to use for your pleasure.

You crouched in front of him. “So pretty,” you murmured, easily slipping into your role of being in charge. “Especially when you’re like this, for me to use at my disposal.”

He licked his lips. “Thank you, Mistress.”

There it was. Your title. Your proof of power for tonight. It sent heat straight to your core. Your eyes flitted to his tongue and you smiled darkly. This is going to be fun.

“Hands behind your back. No touching me unless I grant you permission.”

He complied to your command and you straddled his lap, his semi-hard cock rubbing against your folds. You trailed your fingers along his chest and nuzzled into his neck, rocking your hips oh so gently to feel a delicious bit of friction on your clit.

“What to do with you… restraints? Or maybe the crop. You did look so cute with that collar…”

Between your words, you left open-mouthed kisses against his throat, leaving a bite here and there, making your mark on him. You could feel his muscles flex and tense under your touch and you can tell he’s using a great deal of restraint to not touch you.

You sat up straight, a smile gracing your face. “I know exactly what we’ll do.”

You stood and walked across the room, taking a seat in his chair, the one he used on occasions when the roles were reversed. But tonight? Tonight it was your turn.

You tugged on the tie holding your robe closed and spread your legs wide, giving him a full view of your glistening pussy. You hear his breathing hitch and his deep green eyes go black.

“Well?” You arched a brow at him, teasing a finger between your wet folds. ”It’s not going to take care of itself.”

Loki crawled towards you, hunger evident in his eyes. He settled himself between your legs, resting his hands on your calves. He placed soft kisses and nibbles on your thighs, fingers lazily trailing up your legs. You shuddered under his featherlight touches, as he takes his time.

Frustrated, you seized him by his hair and pulled his head back.

“Did I tell you I wanted teasing?”

“No, Mistress.”

You tighten your grip on his hair, tugging a bit. “And what are you doing right now?”

A soft moan escapes his lips. “T-teasing.”

“I’ll deal with your disobedience later, but right now,” you dragged his face close to your heated center. “I want that silver tongue on me.”

He responded by giving you a viper-like smile and licking a fat stripe on your pussy. You threw your head back, eyes rolling as he began to feast on you.

“Good boy... just- ah! Just like that.”

He hummed, laughing, sending vibrations on your clit as he sucks it into his mouth. Loki grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to his assault and threw you legs over his shoulders. He licked firmly against your folds and dipped his tongue inside you, nose nudging against your clit.

“Such a pretty pussy… and you taste so sweet Mistress.”

Your breathing became shallow, a small whine left your lips, but you still need more. “Loki-”

You hadn’t uttered more than his name, but he already knew what you wanted. Your folds were wet enough to make it easy for him to insert two of his long fingers inside your pussy. He looked up at you through his lashes, licking and sucking your clit as he pressed his fingers, scissoring for a moment before trying to find your sweet spot.

“You’re doing... s-such a good job... hmm- such a good job.”

Loki hummed in appreciation for your praise. He crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and your legs trembled when he found your g-spot. You threw your head back, reduced to whines and moans. His eyes were closed now, brow furrowed as he focused on bringing you pleasure. He added a third finger, pumping them in and out, tongue flicking and sucking your clit.

“L-Loki… I’m c-com-” You didn’t even finish your warning before he gave a particularly harsh suck and pressed his fingers deep inside your pussy.

You came with a gasp, a strangled scream, and his name on your lips.

Loki lapped up your juices, slowing down his ministrations to help you ride out your orgasm. You collapsed in the chair, chest heaving and limbs trembling. He stood up and gathered your limp figure in his arms, carrying you to bed and gently putting you down. He crawled on top of you, caging you between his arms. The weight of his body on yours was comforting, while the weight of his heavy cock on your mound was arousing. You cupped his face and brought him close, kissing him slowly, intimately, the taste of your release making you heady.

He pulled away, resting his brow on yours. “Happy Birthday, my kitten.”

Your eyes widened. “I forgot it was today. I can’t believe you remembered.”

He laughed quietly. “Your king never forgets such an important day.”

“Thank you for this, Loki. It was a wonderful gift.”

Loki arched his brow and smirked. “You didn’t think we were done yet. Did you?” He rubbed his cock against you, steadily building your arousal up. “My love, you should’ve known that we’ve only just begun. Your gift ends when you’re covered in my cum, begging me to stop fucking you.”

“I’d never beg you to stop…” you bit your lip.

Loki smiled widely. “Shall we begin?”

My ride or die:

@lehuka123 @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @just-the-hiddles @thehumanistsdiary @fanfictionaries @astheworlddturns @bbarnestan @buckyfan12

Loki:

@delightfulheartdream @imherefortomhiddleston @imnotrevealingmyname

Tag lists are open ☺️

#loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson smut #loki fic #loki odison x reader #loki odinson x y/n #loki odinson x you #loki odinson smut #loki (marvel)#loki (mcu)

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unlocktxt · 3 years

Text

in the darkness of tomorrow | c.yj

choi yeonjun x female reader

series masterlist :

prologue | part one | part two

genre: royal au, fluff, angst

description: the selection is happening once more to find a wife for prince yeonjun. y/n swears to hate the royal family, but when it’s time for the prince to choose a wife, she gets tied up in the mess.

note: this is inspired from the book the selection by kiera cass, however even though i use some of the ideas there are major differences.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: mentions being whipped and starved

tag list: @binniebutter @nshitae

this was the first time you had ever felt heartbreak. your heart has been a constant reminder that daniel ended things days ago. it haunted you, even as you passed by all of the bright faces in the city.

it seemed like heartbreak wasn’t enough for you. the world had to punish you some more by the announcement made yesterday. the news spread fast around town that day, “the selection application was required for all women of a given age.” you happened to be a part of that age group.

you doubted that the prince would choose you to even be considered as one of the options, but what if’s filled your mind. you still weren’t ready to let go of daniel. right now you wished you would’ve stayed to hear what he wanted to say, but now it was impossible.

you did anything to get your mind off of his frozen blue eyes, including thinking of the prince. unlike everyone else, you thought that prince yeonjun felt a little too entitled. single, willing women weren’t enough for him so he had to make those whose hearts belonged to someone else apply. unlike all the bright faces hoping to be picked, you didn’t want to be one of his little playthings.

they say that the selection was unbiased, but most people knew that wasn’t true. many girls who were unfortunate enough to be in castes five and lower, where they could hardly or not even make ends meet, rarely ever got picked and they were the ones who needed it most. you could stay a four and bake pastries all your life if it meant the people in castes lower than you could afford food.

besides, you had seen first hand what this kingdom has done and you didn’t agree. you would be caught dead before you ever bowed to their spoiled and corrupt system.

“hey mom!” you put on a small smile to please her worried eyes when you walked into the bakery. her small streaks of grey hair added to her beauty.

“i’m so sorry sweetie. i know how much you didn’t want to apply.” her shoulders relaxed, but she continued to place out new baked goods.

you let out a sigh, “yeah well... it doesn’t matter. it’s not like i’ll get picked.” you smiled at the thought. it was all just a waste of time.

your mom stopped, placing the basket of bread on the counter. “it’s supposed to be random... we never know.”

you furrowed your brows and laughed a bit, while giving your mom a look that said “really?” she smiled, shaking her head to acknowledge that you were probably right.

“anyways... where’s dad and taehyun?” you didn’t see or hear them in the bakery.

your mom looked up at you and for a moment she looked distant before returning to her warm demeanor. you caught the change but decided not to bring it up.

“going on an errand,” she responded simply before filling the basket of bread with a few cakes.

she wasn’t going to give you the chance to ask, but you didn’t mind. you knew she’d tell you later.

“so... this arranged engagement with taehyun.” you looked to the side while preparing your face for a whistle.

“you know he’s a great boy and he’s a doctor... a three. he also helps to manage the orphanage with the eights. he’s a great boy y/n.” your mom looked disappointed when you looked back at her.

“it’s just... when does a four ever get put in an arranged marriage. plus...” you looked down at your hands where your fingers were playing with each other, “what if... i could love someone else.” your eyes glistened at the thought of daniel always waiting for you on that tree branch. you didn’t know what caste he was in... even if he was an eight you’d be willing to be homeless with him... although now he’d be a two... all because of the draft.

your mom sighed as your little sister, seoyeon walked in. “that’s enough for now y/n. take this basket to the orphanage.”

seoyeon was all muddy, indicating how she came inside after playing around in the dirt. you grabbed the basket harshly, trying to show your mom that this was not over.

“can i go with?” seoyeon asked, looking at mom. your mom slightly nodded, so you took seoyeon’s hand in yours. you resisted the urge to glare at your mom before smiling at seoyeon.

“okay... we have to get to the orphanage... what’s the best route?” you asked your sister who wore a sly grin before pulling you out of the door.

seoyeon rushed towards the river as she pulled you along. it was your little secret space that no one visited. the two of you had been running for quite a while, slowly passing by fewer and fewer people.

once the two of you made it to the river, seoyeon balanced on the thin makeshift bridge with her arms sticking out. she wobbled here and there but made it over. you followed soon after, carrying the basket in your hand and making sure to avoid any wet slippery spots on the bridge. seoyeon laughed as you made your way over to her.

“hurry slowpoke!” she called before running off into the field.

you shook your head before fastening your pace. once you got off the bridge you took off into a sprint. by the time you caught up to her she was already at the orphanage and you were panting. that was one thing about seoyeon, for small legs she could sure as hell run.

“it’s about time.” she giggled as she took in your bent-over body. “i was starting to think i should’ve carried the basket.”

you rolled your eyes, waving her off before you straightened up. seoyeon had already run off to play with the kids her age. when you walked in there were a few kids and teenagers around your age sitting towards the entrance.

“are taehyun and jihyun around?” you asked, looking around to see if you had missed them in the small orphanage. all you could see at the moment was how it needed to be remodeled, like many things in this area.

“taehyun left a long while ago, but you could probably find jihyun upstairs if you like.” one of the teenage girls, who you knew to be yui, spoke. you nodded before moving towards the kitchen area to place to basket down, with a little note not to eat more than one.

you knew how hard it was for taehyun and jihyun to keep this orphanage up and running. it was hard to get everyone here a proper meal. taehyun nearly passed out from exhaustion when he came to visit your family. he had given up plenty of food just so those who were sick could eat enough.

you made sure to get the plates and napkins out to remind them not to leave the bread lying in unsanitary areas. once you felt your job had been done, you went upstairs to their office. unlike most days the door was closed. you knew something was wrong and the sniffling coming from the room only confirmed your suspicions.

you hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door and letting yourself in. jihyun’s sorrowful eyes burned through yours, making your heart drop.

“y/n thank god you’re here.” she cried before attacking you in a hug. you rubbed circles on her back to try and get her to calm down.

“what happened?” you asked softly, scared this question might break her.

she sniffled, “o-one of the boys-” she let out a sob and you continued to try and soothe her.

“it’s okay you don’t have to say anything.” at this point you moved one of your hands to her head and rested it there.

“n-no he... he stole some meat and they’re going to whip him y/n. they’re going to whip him. he’s only seven!” she cried looking at you in your eyes. she was pleading, pleading for you to do anything. you weren’t sure you could.

“where’s taehyun?” you asked looking around, maybe he went to help. maybe that’s what he and your dad were doing.

“i don’t know.” she finally calmed a bit, hiccuping here and there. “he left before we received the news.”

you were left to wonder what the two were doing, but you didn’t have time for that.

“i promise i’ll go help the boy.” you gave jihyun a determined look. “what’s his name?” you asked halfway out the door.

“hak hyunwoo.” she barely whispered it, probably ashamed. you gave her a reassuring smile before leaving and finding seoyeon.

by the time you had arrived back home they already were gathering people around the city to witness the poor boys' punishment.

“what is your name boy?” the masked man shouted more to the crowd than to the boy. you had been struggling to get closer to the wooden post.

“hak hyunwoo.” he was crying, his tears wouldn’t stop flooding. he had nobody to watch out for him.

“and what is your crime?” the masked man yelled out once more.

hyunwoo was silent before speaking. “theft.” it was quiet.

“your punishment will be...” he waited to see if the crowd of people would react. only a few weren’t excited, it was disgusting how many people were cheering. everyone was just sitting back... watching.

“thirty strikes to the back!” there was a roar in the crowd, but the noise died out in your mind. that was way too much...

you pushed even harder, “stop!” you screamed, but no one could hear you over the crowd. you saw them grabbing the whip, only making you lunge forward, forgetting about hurting the people in the crowd. you stumbled forward after reaching the front. it didn’t matter if he was an eight, you had to help him.

“wait!” you screamed, now where the two in charge of this could hear. the guards were watching you with cautious eyes.

“miss you can’t intervene.” one man standing to the side had said.

you took a deep breath. “this boy did nothing wrong. can’t you see he’s malnourished? the kingdom failed this poor boy... they’re the ones at fault.” you had to try anything. everyone gasped as you accused the royal family of this boy's actions.

“if you must punish someone. punish me, but theft does not deserve thirty strikes to the back.” everyone's eyes were on you, making you nervous. you never really asked for attention, but here you were gaining it.

the masked man was staring at you, no doubt glaring. “fine. get up here.” he nearly threw kyunwoo off of the tiny stage.

you were surprised that worked, you were just desperate, but now you would have to face the consequences. as you walked past the little boy you told him to run home, which he did. that gave you a little comfort.

“what is your name?” the masked man was seething.

“kim y/n.” you tried to sound brave and strong, but you couldn’t help the waver in your voice.

before he could do anything else, more soldiers rushed toward the tiny wooden stage.

“you mustn’t hurt this young lady. she’s been selected and the prince would like to see her now.”

you weren’t sure which guard had said it. you were stricken with shock. tears threatened to fall and you didn’t know whether it was from the relief of not getting whipped or because you’d have to leave everyone to be a plaything for prince yeonjun.

guards had escorted you back home. you were still in a daze from the information, even as your little sister cheered for you. your mom was the only one to snap you out of the trance.

“i’m sorry sweetie... just know that we will all be waiting and ready for anything that happens. we will support you no matter what.” she rubbed your shoulder as you stared at all of the paperwork in front of you.

there had been a palace worker standing beside you stating the rules and how the caste systems worked as if you didn’t know.

ones were royalty and family of royals. twos were celebrities, soldiers, and politicians. threes were people who worked pretty stable jobs like teaching and nursing. fours were business owners. fives were musicians and entertainers. sixes were those who helped others with jobs. sevens were mainly outdoor workers. then there were eights... these people were mainly cast out of society.

staring at the paper only made you even more frustrated. you were practically signing your life away for the possibility of being a three or one if you’re “lucky.”

everyone had to be virgins, single, and if caught in a relationship could be met with death. you rolled your eyes once more thinking about how it wasn’t optional this year. you guess it was a good thing daniel never asked you out and ended things.

then the man said that it’d be ill-advised to refuse anything the prince asked. that confirmed your suspicions, you were practically being sold off to a spoiled brat. the only one who could send you home was the prince himself and no one got a say in what the prince did.

of course, everyone had to be civil and not fight, but you had to wear what the palace gave you, nothing else. one of the worst things was that you couldn’t leave the palace on your own accord. you’d be trapped and watched for the entertainment of the show.

there was one last thing about being one of the last 10. it meant you were the elite, but you doubted that would ever be you. with that... you signed your love away.

your mom was the one to give the signed paper to the man at the front door who had been waiting to take your paper to the palace. she was going to see you off because your dad still wasn’t back yet.

“wait y/n!” seoyeon ran towards you, hugging your legs tightly. “are you going to be a princess?” her eyes lit up when she asked. you couldn’t crush her.

“maybe... that’s up to the prince.” and that was the truth. you didn’t have a choice, but you’d do everything in your power to leave.

it seemed every choice was being made for you as you followed the palace worker, the guards following behind.

the ride to the palace was slow and lonely. you were forced to look longingly at the forest, regretting not saying goodbye to daniel. you thought of all the things you wanted to say to him.

i’ll wait for you because i love you.

we can get through this.

please don’t leave me.

i can’t live without you.

be safe.

at that moment all you knew was that you had to find him somehow and he’d be in the palace. maybe staying for just a little bit wouldn’t be that bad if you could find him.

when you saw the large palace nausea rested in your throat and stomach. you don’t know why he called you here this early, but it couldn’t be good. all the other girls would be arriving tomorrow morning as they had announced.

it was weird being escorted in, but your nerves were exploding within you. you weren’t ready to see royalty. you vowed to die before you bowed before them, but here you were walking straight in and scanning the area. all you managed to see were maids and soldiers around, giving you another few moments of the pride you were willing to die for.

you were passed off to three maids who had been waiting for you.

“it’s amazing to meet you lady y/n.” the title made your face crunch with distaste.

“please... just call me y/n.” your voice was quiet, not allowing yourself to be comfortable in an unknown area.

“we can’t do that miss.” the shortest of the three informed, making you close your eyes and pray to the heavens that you would be able to survive this.

“okay then... may i know your names?” the three of them looked at each other before the one who led the path spoke up.

“i’m aeri, she's isuel, and that’s minsuh” aeri pointed at each of them. you noted that the shortest one, issue, was probably the youngest. you only nodded in response as they led you further into the palace, upstairs, and down long hallways.

“this will be your room,” aeri announced, opening the door to reveal a large room with many small details on the furniture. it was a bit much, but you didn’t expect anything less from people at the top of the caste system.

“we have to get you dressed because the prince will be seeing you soon.” minsuh rushed over towards the large wardrobe, that when opened revealed many different dresses. all of them... dresses.

“i say we should put you in the pink one!” iseul shouted, excited. the other two nodded enthusiastically, but you were too defeated to protest.

it was almost as if prince yeonjun had been waiting the whole time because as soon as they zipped you up, a knock came from the door. all of the maids ran to the door, leaving your pleading eyes behind.

“your majesty.” was all you heard before a few mumbling and giggling. they rushed out immediately and prince yeonjun replaced them. his hair was dyed pink now, making you wish you protested the dress’s color. your maids were sly.

your heart was pacing, scared from the uncertainty.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you lady y/n.” there it was again. the title you wanted to get away from.

“the pleasure is all mine.” you tried to hide the sarcasm in your voice as you stood strong in front of him. don’t you dare waver.

“i heard you got into some trouble today... i’d like to discuss that.” he was calm, every word held a hidden strength behind it. this was why he called you here early.

“i’d hardly call it trouble.” you stopped to watch him step closer to you. you wanted to tell him to stay away, not get close to touching you, but you kept quiet.

“oh really? you don’t call asking to be punished for someone else’s crimes trouble?” he was standing right in front of you now, but he was relaxed and wore a soft smile. he found this humoring. it was anything but.

“i call that two innocent people paying for a kingdoms failure.” the words slipped out before you could hold them back, but you didn’t regret them. not when you saw how prince yeonjun backed away, looking to the side.

“innocent? he was a thief.” yeonjun looked back at you, determined and unwavering. two could play at that game.

you walked towards him this time. a power move. “the world is not all black and white. he was a young boy, an orphan that was placed as an eight. your rules are the reason he was starving, leaving no option but stealing.” you were glaring now, trying to ignore the fact you had to look up at him.

he didn’t seem to want to back down either. “yet if we let one person steal something what’s stopping others?” he leaned his face closer to yours, noses only inches apart.

don’t you dare give in.

“if higher castes can pay their way out of punishment, why don’t the lower castes get a chance?” at this point, you couldn’t move any closer, but you could spit on him. that was only a passing thought to entertain you.

prince yeonjun was quiet after that, staring into your eyes as if he was trying to search through every part of your life. it felt interrogating. he hadn’t responded, so you took that as his loss and back away.

“is that all you wanted to discuss?” your voice was quieter now, not accusatory.

“for now... but you might want to learn some respect.” and then he left you to be swallowed in your anger.

part 2 sneak peak:

the castle had been dark for a while. all day today you were looking around for a familiar face, one that didn’t seem to show.

the creaking of your door alerting you of a new presence. you swore you told everyone you’d like to sleep peacefully tonight, but here they were interrupting you.

“princ-”

“i heard you’ve been looking for me.” you could recognize that voice anywhere. the playfulness in his tone lit your heart on fire.

113 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 3 years

Text

lights out

Summary: The power goes out.

Tags: post season 2, VERY light emotional hurt/comfort, mostly fluff

happy birthday @skrtl !!! Am I over a week late? Yes I am. Did I still finish it? Yes I did. We’ll call it progress. I hope you’ve had a good week or so <3

ao3

The power went out with seemingly no cause.

Michael sat up quickly as he was engulfed in darkness, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, per say, but it did make his stomach drop and his anxiety skyrocket. He just liked to be aware of his surroundings.

He managed to find his phone and unlock it to ground himself a little. However, that only lasted a few minutes when he remembered that Alex had been in the middle of taking a shower.

“Michael!” Alex called. His voice wasn’t panicked or stressed, just loud and annoyed. Michael still followed it quickly as he heard the water shut off.

“Coming!” Michael said, using his phone as his guide.

They weren’t… together. Not really. But Michael was crashing in his house and they were investigating shit together and it was fun. They’d even just got back from California looking into some old alien encounters from 1979. All of it to say that they were working on it, getting closer, figuring things out in a healthy way. Despite not being together officially, it was the most they’d ever truly been a couple before and Michael wasn’t really in a rush to change that.

Then again, he was now standing outside a bathroom where Alex was inside wet and naked and he wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to continue on with their boundaries like that.

“You alright?” Michael called. Alex sighed loudly.

“I can’t see anything,” Alex said. A few beats later, as if he had to work up the courage, he added, “I need help.”

Alex didn’t bring crutches or his prosthetic into the bathroom with him while he took a shower. The steam just made everything slippery and annoying and would probably lead to rusting, so he’d just move from his shower seat to the side of the tub to the toilet to dry off before reaching out of the door to get his crutches. Basically, he needed light to prevent any missteps that could lead to a full-on head injury.

“What, um,” Michael started, clearing his throat as he flashed the phone light around a bit, “What do you need me to do?”

“I just need help getting out of the bathroom,” Alex said, “I think I can get to my towel by myself.”

“Wait, be careful,” Michael said, hand reaching for the doorknob and only stopping himself when he heard Alex huff a laugh.

“I’m fine. And you can come in here.”

“I have my phone as light,” Michael said, hoping that it explained enough that he would be able to see him in all his naked glory. Even though that was something he’d seen and touched many times before. It felt different now.

“It’s okay, Michael, come in. I don’t want to just sit in here,” Alex said. Michael nodded even though Alex couldn’t see him and took a deep breath, turning the doorknob.

He stepped inside and Alex had already done the work of putting a towel around his waist which was one benefit, but it didn’t hide the fact that his hair was wet and plastered to his forehead and water was still dripping over his body. Michael swallowed and kept his eyes somewhere to the right of his face.

“You don’t have to help if you don’t want to,” Alex said, “If you can hand me my crutches, I can do it. I’ll just be careful.”

“No, I can help,” Michael insisted, stepping closer.

Cautiously, Michael helped Alex to his foot and let him wrap his arm around his shoulders. One of Michael’s hands instinctively went to hold the one on his shoulder while his other arm wrapped around his waist. He was wet and warm to the touch and there was absolutely nothing Michael could do about that fact.

Thankfully, Alex started talking as they made their way to the bed.

“Why’d the power go out, do you know?” Alex asked, leaning on him without any kind of hesitation. It made Michael feel guilty for having his own hesitation or even slightly uncomfortable about it. It was just Alex.

Which seemed to be the problem. It was just Alex.

“No, they just went out. Maybe someone fucked up the powerlines?” Michael said, depositing him on the bed carefully.

He probably should’ve moved away after that, but it was still dark and Michael’s pulse was still drumming. Alex was completely calm and unphased as he grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him to sit on the bed beside him.

And he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m sure it’ll be back on soon,” Alex said. Michael nodded and closed his eyes. It was easier that way, to not focus on not being able to see and instead letting his mind think it was by choice. Or, at least that’s what he thought it was. That’s what he did when he was a kid. “Let me get dressed real quick and we’ll take a ride.”

“Take a ride?” Michael echoed, still keeping his eyes shut tight.

“Yeah, see if all the power is out. Maybe it’s just our street and we can go get pizza or something while we wait for it to come back on,” Alex explained. He shifted and Michael could feel him moving as he worked to dry the rest of himself off without putting too much space between them.

“You’re tired,” Michael stated lamely.

Alex huffed a soft laugh, “Yeah. But I don’t really like the idea of trying to go to sleep when there’s no power. Or even being here when I can’t really see.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, nodding, “Me neither.”

Which he was very sure Alex already knew.

Alex lapsed into silence for a moment, drying off quickly. Michael focused on the sounds he made, the bed shifting and the blankets rustling. He was warm beside him and safe. He liked that. He liked him.

“Okay, give me one second, I’m not going far,” Alex informed him, pushing himself off the bed and using his crutches to walk presumably towards his drawers. Michael kept his eyes closed and listened to the sound of his movement, hoping the light from his phone was enough to allow Alex to see what he was grabbing.

Michael leaned back in Alex’s bed after staying still for so long. It was as comfortable as he remembered. He and Alex had shared many beds in their travels for money and convenience sake, but, whenever they came back home, they typically slept separately. It almost felt too intimate to be laying here in the dark in his bedroom despite sleeping last night right beside him in a shady motel room.

“Okay,” Alex said and Michael instinctively turned to look at him, his eyes opening. It was still too dark, but the light from his phone lit Alex up a bit. His hair was still damp, but he had on a shade of pink that seemed to glow in the light. Michael had to wonder if it was intentional.

Alex sat on the bed to pull on his prosthetic so they could go and Michael kept his eyes on him.

When he was done, he expected him to stand up, but instead he shifted to look down at Michael. They stared at each other in the darkness for a moment, long enough that it didn’t feel so dark or nerve wracking anymore. It felt similar to late nights in the bed of his truck or long kisses during the slow hours at the UFO museum or waking up in the middle of the night in the airstream and finding Alex there to lull him back to sleep.g

“Hey,” Alex said, reaching out and grazing his fingers over the dip of his neck. Michael tilted his head back more and kept his breathing even as the rough calluses of his fingers traced his jaw. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Michael responded, willing himself to forget about the darkness and the fact that he couldn’t turn a light on even if he wanted to and instead focused on Alex’s pretty face.

And then Alex started leaning down. Michael wasn’t sure what he was going to do and therefore he held his breath because the last thing he was going to do was fuck this up, whatever this was. He was going to let Alex do whatever he wanted.

Alex’s lips pressed to the middle of his forehead and then a little bit lower, between his eyebrows. Michael still could barely find the courage to breath during the entire thing. He finally did when Alex lifted up and looked down at him again.

“Calm down. I can hear you thinking,” Alex told him. Michael nodded. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Alright.”

Alex trailed his hand down to meet Michael’s, lacing their fingers together before he stood and then pulling Michael up after him. He didn’t let go as they headed towards the front door. And, yeah.

Things were going to be okay.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY #screaming this is so late i'm sorry

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