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change-the-world-someday · 3 years

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I'll Be Here

Oh boy I'm back baby. Here's a Derek Shepherd x Teen!reader bc I just started Grey's Anatomy. I'm well aware I've had stuff in my inbox for over a year, and frankly I'll get round to them soon. I hope this tides you over.

Derek Shepherd x Teen!Reader

Summary: Who'd have thought the child of Derek Shepherd would suffer with something even he can't cure?

A/N: I've been twitching a lot lately so this was a comfort write. Derek and Meredith don't have a relationship, and there's a bit of canon divergence.

⚠️TW⚠️ Talk and descriptions of twitching/tics

—•—

You knew the moment you woke up you were going to have a bad day.

Your alarm went off at the bright and early nine and as you made a move to turn it off, your arm twitched, almost pushing it off your nightstand. You let out a sigh, leaning down and managing to shut it off and sit up.

Until you neck starts to snap left and right, tensing and relaxing each muscle.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, standing and stretching, well, as much as you can before your twitches start up again. You makes your way downstairs, finding an empty kitchen and a note on the counter. You manage to pick it up and read it.

Sorry, I got called in today. Let me know when you’re up

— Dad

You shake your head, whistling and shaking your hands. Great, so you're alone on a day where your twitches are worse than normal. You sigh and head back upstairs, almost losing balance on the stairs, and takes a quick shower before trying to style your hair. With difficulty, you get changed before reaching over and grabbing your phone. You grip it tightly, until it’s flung across the room.

“Shit,” you mumble, reaching down and picking it up. You open your messages, trying to text your dad.

Y/N

Hi, up. Bad today

It’s short, and to the untrained eye, might seem pretty rude, but to you and your dad, is a warning. Heading back to the kitchen, you try to eat a bowl of cereal. Instead, you managed to spill the cereal twice, drop milk on the floor, and then poke yourself in the side of the face a few times with your spoon instead of eating.

Your phone buzzes.

Dad

Do you need me at

home?

Y/N

No. Just bad

Dad

Do you want to come

to the hospital? You

can stay in one of the

offices if you want

You think about it for a moment, though you don’t get too long before your phone starts ringing. You pick up.

“Hi—” you whistle “—hi Dad.”

You hear him sigh. “Hey kid. Do you want to come in today? I can make sure no one stops you and you can come straight to the office.”

You click, your neck jerking forward. “You sure? I’ve—“ you whistle “—never been there before. I don’t want—“ you click “—to become a case study.”

Your dad laughs lightly down the phone. “I won’t let them. Just make your way over, and keep your earphones in. Music helps.”

You nod, before your neck twitches to the side and cracks, making your dad wince audibly. “Okay. I’ll let you know—“ you whistle and sigh, clearly getting frustrated with yourself.

“I get it. Don’t work yourself up; it’ll only make it worse. See you soon. Love you.”

A ghost of a smile passes across your face. “Love you too, Dad.”

—•—

Derek hangs up and leaves the store cupboard, almost bumping into Dr Bailey as she marches past.

“Watch where you’re going, McDreamy,” she scolds and Derek smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Bailey narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Y'N's coming here. They're having a bad day,” he replies and Bailey nods, immediately catching on. “No one else knows.”

Surprisingly enough, you haven’t met anyone from Derek’s work, except for Bailey and even then, that was an accident. You'd bumped into her on a bad day and Derek had to explain what was wrong. Ever since, Bailey’s had a soft spot for you.

“Not even the chief?” She asks and Derek shakes his head. “Did you warn them?” He nods. “Well, there’s not much else you can do.”

“They're texting me when they’re a few minutes away. If I get caught in surgery, can you meet them at the doors please?”

The two stop in the corridor, Bailey pulling him over. “I have my own schedule too, Shepherd.”

Derek nods. “I know, but you’re the only other person here they know, and you know how they can get in places they don’t know…”

Bailey looks around. “If you’re caught up, you owe me one.”

Derek smiles and nods, a look of relief on his face. “Thank you.”

—•—

You're walking down the street to the hospital, constantly readjusting your earphones so they don’t fall out. Your neck keeps snapping to the side and jerking forward, earning a few odd looks from strangers. You sigh, a few minutes away from the hospital, and pull out your phone. Before you can do anything, though, you promptly throw your phone on the pavement.

Thank god your dad bought you one of those industrial phone cases. You pick it up, dodging people as you go to call your dad. He picks up after two rings.

“Hi, I’m—“ you click “—a minute away.”

“Okay. I don’t think I’m going to be able to meet you at the doors. Just walk through, take the stairs to the fifth floor, and come down the hall. I’ll be in the break room, second door on the left.”

Your eyes widen; you're going to be by yourself? Walking through a hospital? Where no one knows you?

“O-Okay,” you stammer out and your dad sighs.

“I’m sorry kid. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hangs up and you take a breath, nodding to yourself. You pocket your phone and turn your music up as loud as it can be. Your dad was right, it does ease your twitching, though not as much as you'd like.

Fall Out Boy blasts through your earphones as you walk through the doors of Seattle Grace. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, your neck twitch making it a lot easier to achieve. You click as you make your way to the stairwell, making your way up.

You don’t hear the calls of concerns from the interns following you, trying to catch up to you.

By the time you reach the fifth floor, the two interns have gone to find Dr Bailey to try and assist them, and Dr Shepherd who can help with the disorder being presented. They haven’t had someone who needs medical attention blatantly ignore them and go to a certain department before.

You lose your balance a little as you walk through the doors to the fifth floor, your neck jerking left and right repeatedly, muscles tensing and relaxing. Your hands are shaking and you walk like a new fawn.

You reach the door and push it open, whistling and clicking as you do so. At least you can see your dad today.

—•—

Derek knows immediately what kind of day is happening when you steps into the room. You're a jerking mess, neck and shoulders tensing and relaxing as though given electric shocks. You're whistling, clicking, and your eyes have recently started screwing shut, temporarily blinding you.

And that’s with your headphones in.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets, gently taking one earbud out of your ear and leading you to the seats. At least if you're sat, you have less of a chance of hurting yourself.

“Hi Dad,” you reply until a whistle comes back out. “S-Sorry.”

“Hey,” Derek places a firm but kind hand on your shoulder, “don’t apologise. None of this is your fault.” There’s a silence between you two, only broken by the sound coming from the removed earphone. “Fall Out Boy? Nice choice.”

Your neck snaps but you give a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want something to eat? Did you manage to get some breakfast?” You sigh, your hands twitching and trembling, which tells Derek everything he needs to know. “Is it a bomb-site there?”

You shake your head. “I managed—“ you whistle “—to clean up. Took ages.” Your neck jerks forward. Derek sighs, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. You've always been wary; you never want to hurt your dad accidentally but Derek doesn’t care. You're his kid, and nothing will change that.

“You’re okay. Do you want some lunch? We can go to the cafeteria—they’ve got some pizza in there that’s actually pretty good.”

You nod, knowing anything you try to say will be interrupted by one of your twitches. You walk alongside Derek, trying your hardest to suppress your twitching as you make your way through the hospital and into to lift, where a few others are going to different floors. Derek notices, and leans into your ear. “You don’t have to hide it here, kid. Promise.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief from you as you let out a scatter of twitches, your neck jerking forward as you whistle and click. Your hands shake and flap and you let it all go. A few of the doctors and nurses turn around to look at you, but one harsh glare from Dr Shepherd makes them all go back to minding their own business.

You exit the lift and walk through the corridors to the cafeteria. You join the queue and you feel Derek keep an arm around you, trying to help you ease your twitches. You're grateful, though you both know there isn’t much either of you can do to stop them. You sigh, putting your earphones back in and blasting some music, this time Hozier.

Derek watches you struggle, sympathy panging through his heart. He hates that you've been cursed with this, and the worst part is they can’t find anything that’s causing it. It’s not like there’s a tumour or growth on your brain Dr Shepherd can operate on, you're just stuck with it.

“Dr Shepherd, good afternoon. Who’s this?” Lindsey, the server behind the food counter, greets. Derek smiles.

“Afternoon Lindsey. This is my kid, Y/N. They're joining me at the hospital today,” he explains, gently tapping you on the shoulder and causing you to take an earphone out. “Y/N, this is Lindsey.”

“Hi,” you greet, before your neck jerks forward yet again, cracking. The two adults give a wince and Lindsey gives you a small smile.

“What would you like, hun?” She asks. You look over, or does so as best you can. You can barely stay still long enough to read the menu. “We have a standard pizza or pepperoni pizza today. We also have some ham, chicken, or cheese sandwiches and salads. Or a few pastries we can heat up if you’d prefer.”

You give her a grateful smile. “Can I—“ you whistle “—have pepperoni please? And a—“ you click “—bottle of water?”

“Sure thing, and you Dr Shepherd?”

You put your earphones back in, trying your hardest to stop twitching. The problem is, the more you try to stop it, the worse it gets. It takes a few minutes for you to get your food, and when you do, Derek carries both trays to a table and sets them down. He takes a seat opposite you, giving a small smile.

“Thanks Dad,” you thank, pulling one earphone out so you can hear the conversation. You pick up the plastic fork and spear a few chips, but before you can eat them, your hand twitches and you throw it on the floor. You sigh but before either you or your dad can make a move to pick it up, someone else does it for you.

“You better be more careful. I don’t want fries on my shoes.” You recognise that voice anywhere, and smile as you look up at Dr Bailey. You let out a small laugh.

“Hi Dr Bailey,” you greet, whistling as your head snaps to the side and back. She smiles at you.

“Heard you were coming and through I’d say hello.”

—•—

“Guys, shut up,” Cristina hisses. “Do you see?”

“See what?” George asks as they quieten down. She nods her head and the table of interns turn around to catch sight of what’s going on. Dr Bailey is talking Dr Shepherd… and you sat with them. You're not dressed in any kind of hospital gown, nor are you wearing scrubs, so who are you? And how are you making Dr Bailey smile?

Meredith watches, catching sigh of your hair, and her eyes widen. She reaches over, slapping George on the arm.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s them,” she replies, “the person from earlier. Y’know, the one who didn’t check in at reception and took the stairs. The one who ignored us!”

George’s eyes widen too, and the two get up and start to walk over, ignoring the protests of Cristina and Izzie as they reach the table. You're struggling to get a sentence out, whistling and clicking as you try to tell Dr Shepherd about something.

“Dr Shepherd!” Meredith calls out, making the conversation halt between you. “Are you with a patient?”

She misses how you cringe. Dr Shepherd frowns, which only deepens more at the crack in your neck as it jerks forward. “Dr Grey, Dr O’Malley, how can I help?”

“W-We saw, erm, this kid walk straight through and up to neurology without checking in. Do you want us to check them in and get a better examination? We were going to come to you for a consult when we saw them anyway, but since you already seem to know them…” George trails off and Dr Shepherd looks between you, the interns, and Dr Bailey.

An awkward silence falls between you, only disturbed by the occasional whistle or click from you. “I can get a wheelchair if it’s easier.”

“No need,” Dr Shepherd cuts in. “They aren’t a patient, their name’s Y/N. They're my kid and they're accompanying me to work today.” The two interns look at each other, mortified. “Now, if you excuse us, we were just having lunch.”

Your hand flexes again, making you throw your fork on the floor (the second one in the space of fifteen minutes) and sigh. You go to pick it up, only for George to beat you to it. “Here.”

“Than—“ you click as your head jerks forward “Thank you.”

“Don’t you two have places to be?” Bailey asks, less than impressed with her two interns in front of her. They both nod and scurry off, back to their table to tell Cristina and Izzie about Dr McDreamy’s kid.

—•—

“I don’t know how they cope with it,” George muses as the group of four interns sit on some beds in the back corridor, waiting to be paged for something.

“Yeah, twitching all the time. God, I’d kill myself if I had them,” Izzie continues. “Would ruin my chances at both medicine and modelling. And a lot of other things, probably.”

“Do you think they wanted to go into medicine? Y’know, before they started twitching? Or have they always had it?” Cristina asks. “Or do they have a tumour?”

“For your information,” a voice cuts in, making all four jump and turn to the source, meeting the likes of Dr Shepherd, “Y/N wants to be a lawyer.” He walks down the corridor to them, everyone’s cheeks turning red a the prospect of being caught gossiping. “The tics developed about eighteen months ago, just before we moved to Seattle. It’s not a tumour, or any kind of swelling; in fact, we have no clue what set it off.”

“Have you done an MRI? CT?” Meredith suggests and Derek nods.

“We ran everything. It all came back clean.” He looks at Cristina. “They did want to be a doctor. When we realised we couldn’t cure them, they were upset for weeks. They—“

“Talking about me?” A voice calls down the corridor and Derek’s face splits into a smile, something that doesn’t go amiss by the others. You whistle, making it to the group and taking a seat next to your dad. You lean on him… until your neck twitches and you almost fall back. Derek’s hand shoots out, supporting you.

“We were just—“ Izzie tries to say before you cut her off, clicking in the process.

“Let me guess.” You whistle. “The doctor que—“ you click “—question and how I live with—“ your neck jerks to the side “—it.”

Your dad gives you a smile. “Ten out of ten for you,” he smiles. You nod.

“Well, I used to want to—“ you click “—be a doctor, until we found out this is incurable.” You whistle. “Pretty soul-crushing.” Your neck jerks back, and if it wasn’t for your dad’s hand, you would’ve hit the wall. “And we’ve learned to adapt to it. There are—“ you click “—days where I’m fine, with only a few, and days—“ you whistle and everyone can feel the frustration radiating off you. Still, no one chooses to finish your sentence, letting you get it out yourself “—like this.”

—•—

For a while, the six make general conversation, until, slowly but surely, you start to drift off. It isn’t until there’s an odd silence that Derek notices, and he has a smile on his face as he looks down at you, asleep on his shoulder.

“They look so… peaceful,” Izzie comments quietly, the others agreeing.

“Yeah. We’ve had a few rough days this week. God knows they need the rest,” Derek mutters. He shifts to look between the four. “Any of you wake them, I’ll make sure you’re banned from the OR for a month.”

Everyone’s eyes widen as they nod in unison; they’re all begging for a chance at more surgery. Carefully, Derek manoeuvres you so your head’s lying in his lap, body stretched out on the hospital bed. He carefully cards his fingers through your hair, detangling it as gently as he can.

The interns’ pagers go off, assigning them jobs and the four rush off, leaving Derek and you to rest. He smiles, getting himself comfortable sitting on the end of the bed, back against the wall.

“Get some rest, buddy. I’ll always be here for you.”

—•—

Hope y'all enjoyed. I know it's pretty different from what I usually write, but this is for my own comfort so...

Sorry not sorry

Taglist

@breadsticks2004 @criminalsmarts @rororo06@ogmilkis@ssebstann@herecomesthewriterwitch @garcias-batcave @spidey-reids-2003 @lovelylaurens@sataninsatin@snarky--starky @mcntsee @averyhotchner @dindjarinsspouse @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love

#derek shepherd #teen reader #Derek Shepherd x teen reader #Derek Shepherd x reader #platonic #tics #twitches #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #greys anatomy

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desireness · 3 years

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Wants & Needs [Sasha x f!reader] 16+

-cw: au, praising, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, wlw, slight choking, dom! reader, sub! sasha

sneak peak: You’ve had attraction for your friend Sasha for a very long time. What will happen when she calls, begging you to hangout? Especially when she confesses that she’s been so horny lately..

notes: Been having sasha brain rot recently so here’s this. Sasha is just *chefs kiss*. Enjoy.

You open your eyes to the sound of your ringtone going off on your phone. You search around for your phone on your bedside table without even looking, too tired to bother. You briefly look at your phone’s screen to check who’s calling you.

“Sasha, what the fuck do you want?” you ask annoyed.

“Were you already sleeping? what are you? a fucking grandma?” she snorts.

“yea, i’m hanging up”

“NO WAIT”

Sasha goes on to talk about how she’s sorry for waking you up and babbles about other irrelevant things. She could be so annoying sometimes but you love that about her.

“Okay, why did you actually call?” you ask rubbing the tiredness away from your eyes.

“i’m bored... and hungry. Please bring food and come hangout with me” she whines over the phone.

You hesitate at first, wanting to sleep more but also not wanting to let her down. Plus, you forgot to eat dinner before bed anyways so why not?

“Fuck it, fine. You owe me though.” You say before hanging up.

You sigh, throwing your phone on the bed. You get out of your bed, quickly missing the warmth and comfort it provided. A chill washes over your skin as you’re exposed to the cold air of your room. You go to put on a warm hoodie and decide to keep your comfy sweatpants on. You quickly grab your car keys and your phone, taking one last glance in the mirror before heading towards the parking lot of your apartment complex. Your hair was messy and disheveled, but you could care less. You were just going to see Sasha anyways.

On your way to her apartment, you stop at Sasha’s favorite fast food restaurant to get dinner for you both. The drive there was short, only about ten minutes. As you arrived you texted her, “here.”

She didn’t reply, which was quite strange. She’s usually fast at replying, especially when there is food involved. As you reach her apartment door, you type in the passcode and walk right in like you normally do. You walked into the kitchen and set the bag of food on the counter.

“Sasha?” you called out. No answer.

You walk towards her bedroom, opening the door that was already cracked open. There she was, cuddled up in her blankets, sleeping. “For fuck’s sake.” You said under your breath.

Sasha looks so pretty with her hair down and sprawled out on her pillow. You had always noticed how attractive she was. Sometimes staring a little too long at her face or especially, her lips. Her skin is so gorgeous and bright. You often find your touches on her skin lingering too long or your eyes wandering over her body whenever she changed in front of you. She was perfect and it often made your head so full of her. Wondering was it was like to touch her, kiss her, taste her, pleasure her.

You realized these actions weren’t normal for regular friends, you’ve known that for awhile so you never acted on them in fear that she might push you away. Plus, it’s not like you’ve ever really had the chance, she’s always been with some guy. They were all trash and the relationship often didn’t last long but still, it frustrated you. She deserves better, no, the best. You’ve heard all of her sex stories and how they never seem to truly satisfy her. You knew you could be the one to do that for her, make her feel so good. Sometimes you day dream about filling her up with your fingers and having her scream your name. You get wet just thinking about it. If only you had the chance.

You move some hair out of her sleepy face, admiring her for a few more seconds before softly shaking her awake. “Sash, wake up I brought food.” You say sweetly.

Sasha’s eyes flutter open and she sits up, yawning and stretching.

“Ahh shit, sorry for falling asleep. Thanks for coming.” She softly smiles at you making you flash a smile back. " ‘s ok”

You’re sitting in front of her, watching her grab her phone and look at the time. 12:23 A.M. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt, exposing her plush thighs to you. You rub your thighs together to help ease the tension. You could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra and probably wearing some cute lace panties as well. It’s driving you crazy, you want to feel her so badly.

Sasha lays back on her bed with a groan. You ask her what’s wrong and she replies “i’ve been so fucking horny lately and nico’s been busy so I can’t even call him up. It’s so annoying.” She sighs. This only made you crave her more, trying so hard to push your desires away. “Maybe I should buy a new vibrator or something to keep me company.” She laughs. You smiled but didn’t think it was funny. She didn’t need a vibrator or anything else. What she needed was you.

“Anyways, where’s the food?” She asks eagerly.

“In the kitchen...” You trail off looking at the small bit of drool placed on the corner of her mouth. You take your thumb and wipe it away, your touch lingering a little too long on her lips. All Sasha did was giggle.

Before Sasha could say anything, you place your lips on hers, holding her chin between your thumb and your pointer. You kiss her softly, afraid to scare her off by being too aggressive at first. Sasha’s eyes are wide open, slowly processing the scene before her. You continue to move your lips against hers but you quickly realize she isn’t doing the same. You take this as a hint that she is uncomfortable, parting away from her lips. Not even a second after you broke the kiss, Sasha leaned back in to put her lips on yours. Her hands are on both sides of your cheeks, cupping your face.

Your lips move in synch with hers, relishing in each other’s taste. You want to memorize what she tastes like, you aren’t in any hurry. Your mind is fuzzy as you run your tongue against her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She quickly abides slightly opening up her mouth so your tongue could slide in. Your tongues intertwine, pulling a sweet moan from her mouth into yours. Your cunt clenches in response. It’s your first time hearing her pretty voice like that, all whiny and submissive. It was all because of you. You briefly came back to your senses, pulling away from her lips.

She is slightly panting, lips glossy from the kiss. She looks so sensual right now. “What about niccolo?” you say, slightly averting your eyes so your not tempted to throw her on the bed and fuck her right there, not caring about her feelings. “We’re not exclusive or anything.” She grabs the hem of your shirt, nervously playing with it between her fingers. “So don’t stop, please.” She’s blushing, eyes meeting yours. That’s all you needed to hear from her, a sign that she wants you to keep making her feel good.

You take no time reattaching your lips with hers, placing your hands on her waist to pull her onto your lap. You take your time to pepper sweet kisses from her lips to her jaw then to her neck. Taking the skin of her neck between your teeth while she hisses at the sting, gripping your shoulders roughly. You use the pad of your tongue to ease the sting, tasting her skin. It wasn’t hard for you to find her sweet spot. You suck and kiss her skin, making her an aroused mess on top of your lap. You creep your hands underneath her shirt, feeling the sides of her waist and ribs, while just brushing against the underside of her breasts. You can tell she’s getting impatient from the way she’s letting out small desperate gasps at your touches. You like seeing what a mess she is for you. You can feel the goosebumps on her skin as you feel around underneath her shirt. You give her jaw one last kiss before you pull away to grab ahold of the hem of her shirt. You shoot her a glance of permission and she quickly nods.

One you slide the shirt up and over, her breasts bounce down on full display for you to see. You can only mutter “fuck” at the sight before you. You had seen Sasha barely clothed before but never like this. You’ve never seen this sight knowing you had full control over it. Your eyes wander over her body being completely topless, only some cute lace underwear covering her cunt. “You’re so gorgeous, baby.” you say grasping her breasts in your hands. Sasha moans in response, loving the way you praise her.

You eagerly attach your mouth to her breast, finding the nipple with ease. She immediately whines at the contact. You suck on one breast and palm at the other, making her fingers intertwine with your hair and slightly tug on it when you nip and roll at her nipples. Her breasts are the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Perfectly round and perky, god she’s amazing. You feel her start to grind on top of you, trying to relieve the growing ache between her legs. That only makes you want her more.

“Ride my thigh, baby.” You whisper in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. You grasp her ass and her hips with your hands and guide her body over yours. Helping her ride you while your face is buried in her tits. She gasps at the sudden contact, burying her face into your neck. Her breasts practically bounce in your mouth as she moves back and forth. She nibbles and bites on your neck, trying to handle the overall pleasure of it all. You can tell she’s getting close by the way she’s whining in your ear, hands grasping your shoulders tightly.

All of a sudden you grab her hips harshly, stopping her from making anymore movement. She whimpers at the loss of contact, making you smile as you leave a sweet kiss on her shoulder. You look up at her, grasping her jaw and giving her a light kiss. Your fingers find her wet clothed cunt, making her gasp into your mouth. She whines loudly as soon as your fingers start to circle her clit. You moan in response into her mouth, lapping your tongues sloppily.

She lets out a desperate muffled, “please” into your neck. “Please what? hmm?” you purr bringing her face to look at yours. Her face is a flushed mess and her lips are slightly swollen, making you feel proud of yourself knowing you caused it. Sasha grabs your your other hand that is on her ass and places it near her cunt. “Your fingers, need them so bad.” She pleas. You hum in response, bringing your fingers up to your lips, not hers. You want her to watch you make them wet, so that it’s engraved her mind. You swirl your tongue around your fingers, making wet and sloppy sounds. Sasha watches eagerly, letting out a needy moan. You remove your fingers, leaving a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to your fingers.

Sasha stands up, removes her panties, and sits her pretty ass right back on your lap. You move your fingers down to her folds and softly run through them. Sasha let’s out a small gasp as your fingers reach down to find her slit, teasing the entrance. “Shit, you’re so wet. All this for me?” She nods in agreement with a breathy moan.

You insert your two fingers inside her, painfully slow. She clenches down hard and squeezes her eyes shut. You want her to feel every part of your fingers, want her to remember this feeling. “Feels so good inside me.” She says sweetly, making you pump your fingers inside her just to hear more of her sweet voice. She rides your fingers as you pump them into her at the same time. She throws her head back in pleasure, giving you perfect access to her neck. She cries out your name as you kiss and suck on her sweet spot while filling her up. You grip her ass hard, helping her move up and down on your now soaked fingers. Her walls are so squishy and wet, making you fuck her with your fingers ruthlessly. She repeatedly lets out loud high pitched moans. You’re soaked at this point, all aroused because of her pleasure.

“Am close, you’re filling me up so good!” She cries out. Her words go straight to your cunt and you increase the speed of your fingers, using your thumb to circle her clit at the same time. The erotic sounds of her wetness and her moans fill the room, leaving you so satisfied. Her tits are flying up and down as she rides you faster and you take a mental screenshot to remember this sight forever. “Who’s making you feel good hm? Who’s the one that’s pleasuring you the way no one ever has?” You groan. Your free hand finds it’s place around her neck, squeezing ever so slightly. “You are! It’s all you!” She sobs. The coil in her stomach has reached it’s max and is ready to snap. “Fuck, good girl.” You grunt grabbing her jaw and pulling it forward so your faces are inches away. “Now come for me, pretty.” And she does, practically screaming your name as she cums around your fingers.

She collapses onto your shoulder, panting into your neck. You rub soft circles on her clit to help her come down from her high. You pull your fingers out gently and place them in your mouth to clean them off. She tastes so sweet and saccharine, you can’t help but want to clean her off with your tongue. You whisper sweet praises to her, telling her how amazing she did. She nuzzles into your neck, leaving soft kisses as a thank you.

She hops off of your lap, laying down on the bed. You take no time to pull your sweatpants and panties down. You are so wet, you couldn’t just leave yourself like this. Sasha stares at the ceiling, unaware of your actions until you climb on top of her, cunt hovering over her breasts. She lifts her head up slightly with a confused expression on her face but blushes at the sight of your bare and soaked count. You slightly drag you cunt over her breasts as you grab the back of her head and say “Remember how you said you were hungry? Now eat.”

You practically shove her face into your pussy and she complies. Kissing and kitten-licking your folds at first, making you satisfyingly sigh. She grabs onto the back of your thighs, pushing you closer. You’re basically sitting on her face now. She finally starts to lap her tongue on your clit, making you grip her hair hard. You let out a series of satisfied, loud moans making Sasha whine into your cunt. You praise her for her good work. “such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum, baby?” She pulls away to nod at you before placing her tongue on your pussy again.

She sucks on your clit repeatedly, making your hips slowly ride her face. You do your best not to crush her face in the process. Her tongue feels so good and you love having this power of her. You love quite literally sitting on her face while she submits to all of your requests. She slips her tongue into your dripping hole, making you groan as your throw your head back. You continue riding her face as the room fills with wet sounds from her tongue slipping in and out of you.

It all starts to become too much for you, making your legs twitch and shake. Sasha pulls away for a second. “Want you to cum” She pleas looking up at you, teasing your clit with her tongue. She looks so cute with her begging eyes. You hum in response, grabbing the back of her head. “Since you’ve been very compliant, i’ll allow it.” You stroke the side of her mouth before entering two of your fingers inside. You collect her saliva and your own juices with your fingers, making her pleasantly sigh in response. You bring your fingers out of her mouth and place them on your tongue. “Make mommy cum.”

You shove her face right back where it belongs, earning a gasp from her. She flicks her tongue on your clit at a rapid speed which makes you a moaning mess. You moan over and over again as her tongue reaches all the right places. Her tongue switches between your hole and clit, making you see stars. Your legs start to shake and your breathe picks up. You can feel yourself about to cum by the way your stomach and pussy tingles, sending you into pure euphoria. Sasha focuses on your clit, flicking her tongue ruthlessly to help your reach your high. Your orgasm washed over you with a loud high pitched moan, making your mouth into a perfect O shape. You cum all over Sasha’s face.

She circles your clit with her tongue to help you come down from your high, cleaning all of your release off your pussy and thighs with her tongue. You come back to your senses and remove yourself from her grasp. You both lay there for a couple of minutes, processing everything that just occurred. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing that you just fucked Sasha better than anyone else ever has. All Sasha could say was “wow” and giggle. You laughed along with her, pushing her hair out of her face.

All of a sudden, Sasha’s phone rings. You grab it, seeing Niccolo’s name on the screen and hand it to her. You can slightly hear Niccolo tell her he’s free tonight if she wants. You kiss her shoulder sweetly, waiting for her response. “I’ll pass, i’m pretty content at the moment.” She smiles at you and hangs up on him.

She gives you a quick peck before heading off towards the kitchen. She looks back at you with a cute smile before leaving the room. “Thanks for two meals tonight, by the way.”

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cno-inbminor · 3 years

Text

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings: DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him. It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,” he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #this fic maybe took two years off my life

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the-storming-sea · 3 years

Note

For prompts: Todoroki using every single Toshi-Izuku interaction to add to his "Izuku is All Might's secret love child' conspiracy board

Tfw its been like two to three days but Many Things have happened in that time. Oops

Uh, anyways–

"Dude. What. The. Fuck."

Sero, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu stared, wide-eyed and nearly slack-jawed from the futon they currently sat at. Across from them, hanging off the wall was a large pinboard, polaroid pictures and newspapers articles with certain words and pictures circled in with bright red marker tacked onto different places, red string connecting each and every single one of those pictures together.

And in front of that pinboard stood Todoroki Shouto, one of the most powerful students at UA, son of the current Number One Hero, wide-eyed and wild-haired and probably, by definition, out of his fucking mind.

"Listen. I'm not crazy–"

"Literally everything that's happening now is providing evidence to the contrary."

"–but All Might is Midoriya's father."

"That's." Kirishima blinked, once, his brain attempting to process what his classmate was saying. "What?"

"All Might. Is. Midoriya's. Father," Todoroki said, slower, like he was trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. Or to anyone.

"Todoroki, All Might's never been in a public relationship before," Yaoyorozu replied, slower. Of all of Todoroki's eccentricities, this had to be the weirdest one yet. "Not to mention, all of All Might's speculated relationships have been with men."

"Then at least one of his partners is trans, or he's trans!"

"They don't even look the same!"

"Then Midoriya gets his looks from his mother! They have the same quirk! They practically act the same!" Todoroki threw his hands up in exasperation, frost creeping on the side of his fingers. "I'm still right!"

"Bro, you've met Midoriya's mother."

"Artificial insemination! Adoption! Again, secret love child!"

Todoroki slapped his hand on the board, slightly burning the edges of one of the newspaper clippings. "Look, see here," he said, pointing to the clipping. Kirishima tentatively walked up, squinting at the headline. "Read this."

"'Mystery Samaritans Found Cleaning Up Takoba Beach.'" Kirishima frowned. "So?"

Sero's eyes brightened. "Oh, I remember that! I used to go to the beach all the time with my family," he said. "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"Look at this photo!"

Kirishima turned his eyes towards the photo, frowning. His eyes widened in shock.

"Holy shit, is that Midoriya?"

"Huh, so it is," Yaoyorozu said. "And...is that...?"

"YES!" Todoroki exclaimed, once again slapping his hand on the pinboard and startling his friends. "All Might, as he currently looks now, and Midoriya found at Takoba beach a full year before the school year starts. That means they knew each other before the school year started!"

"You repeated yourself."

"I know I know I know but why," Todoroki pressed, taking a deep breath, "why would All Might, in his weakened state before Kamino, be seen with Midoriya unless...unless that was his secret son."

He clapped his hands together just as he was finishing his point, clearly pleased by his argument. The three stared back at him, slightly alarmed.

"Or...maybe he just met him recently and they decided to clean the beach together," Yaoyorozu said tentatively. "It could happen."

"Or, or they decided to train for Midoriya's UA Exam together by lifting appliances at the beach! Or working out around the beach a year before!" he protested. "My father used to make me train by lifting up heavy objects ten times my size and pushing my quirk before the UA exam too!"

Sero frowned. "Todo, I know good parenting is a foreign concept to you, but comparing your relationship with your dad to Midoriya and All Might maybe isn't the best of ideas."

"I'm pretty sure Iida used to train with his hero brother in a very normal way," Todoroki nearly fucking pouted. The guy was really fired up– metaphorically and a little bit literally, judging by his floor. "But, but anyway, what I'm trying to say was that All Might, trying to make sure Midoriya would be strong enough for the entrance exam, made him clean up the beach because he was helping to train his son!"

Kirishima stared at him. "Bro."

"I'm right! Not to mention, why would he be in his thinner state around Midoriya if he wasn't his son?!"

"Maybe he told him about the weakened form back then by accident?" Sero said. "Todoroki, seriously. You're looking too deep into this."

"I agree," Yaoyorozu said. She loved her friend, truly, but as good as it was for Todoroki to exhibit any other emotion besides confusion and rage, this couldn't be healthy for him.

Todoroki groaned. "Okay, okay, fine. Exhibit B!" He pointed to a picture of All Might and Midoriya walking into All Might's office. "They eat lunch together! Who does that with a teacher?!"

Kirishima hummed. "Okay, I'll give you that one," he said, looking back at the others. "You gotta admit, that is a little suspicious."

"You forget, Midoriya broke his bones a lot at the beginning of the year just by activating his quirk," Yaoyorozu said, calmly. "As the Heroics teacher, All Might would want to make sure they can find a way for Midoriya to improve his quirk use without breaking his bones, so it would make sense for All Might to meet up with Midoriya out of class."

"But why continuously?!" Todoroki pressed. "Even after Midoriya got a handle of his quirk?!"

Yaoyorozu frowned. "Well, Bakugo meets with them now. Is Bakugo All Might's son too?"

"Details, details," Todoroki said with a wave of his hand. "Bakugo's practically Midoirya's boyfriend anyways. All Might probably wants to vet him or something."

"Somehow I believe that less than your 'All Might is Midoriya's dad' theory."

"They're going to get together, just you wait," Todoroki said. "Anyways, back to business. It's not just at school too! Even now that we're in the dorms, lately All Might will eat with Midoriya, alone, just the two of them!"

He pointed to another picture of Midoriya and All Might eating meat buns on a bench, no one else in sight, lightly chatting. "See! It would make sense if All Might ate with any one of us, or if there was a bigger crowd, but it's just those two! That's a normal parenting thing, right?"

"Dude how did you even get that picture."

"Irrelevant."

Yaoyorozu ran her eyes over the full board again, wincing internally. As...off-putting as her friend's efforts were, he did have a point. All Might's actions towards Midoriya were unprecedented of a teacher, Aizawa would certainly never be caught dead with any of them. And sure, they simply could be good friends who met a little before the Takoba news article picture, friends could be of all ages after all, but with the way All Might treated Midoriya daily, it was getting more and more likely that Todoroki's theory was correct. Which had some very interesting implications and also a media shitstorm on its way if it was true.

"And," Todoroki continued, now rambling as fast as Midoriya was, "did you know that All Might visited the Midoriya's to talk about the dorm system alone?"

Kirishima's mouth dropped. "Seriously?"

Todoroki nodded, eyes wide and a small smile on his face. "Aizawa-sensei told us himself back when he asked my father if I could stay in the dorms! My father asked where All Might was and Aizawa-sensei told him that they split up right before the Midoriya's!"

Sero's eyes widened. "Okay, I will admit that that's weird."

"I know right?!" Todoroki exclaimed, out of breath and restlessly pacing the floor. "Not only that, but All Might was one of the first people Midoriya texted right after he got his hero license. And Midoriya ended up interning with a hero who All Might knows directly and worked with Nighteye during his work-study who's All Might's only sidekick! And then Midoriya was invited personally to I-Island by All Might! And–"

Knock knock.

The group froze.

"Young Todoroki? Can I speak with you?"

Fuck.

Todoroki tentatively walked over to his door, opening it just enough to find All Might standing behind it, a worried expression on his face. "Are you all alright? The kids downstairs reported a lot of yelling, and I think you may have frozen and burnt through your floor?"

Todoroki looked back at his floor, which now looked slightly more like the training room back home than it did his dorm room. "Right. I can pay for that."

"No need my boy, just make sure it doesn't happen again or I think Aizawa'll have all of our heads," All Might chuckled. He then frowned, slightly opening the door more. "What on Earth is that?"

His eyes were pointed directly behind Todoroki, to the pinboard the high schooler had been deliriously gesturing towards for the past few minutes. Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu stared at each other awkwardly, shuffling their feet.

"Um...well, y'see–"

"All Might, is Midoriya your illegitimate child?"

The air paused. Everyone turned their eyes to the teen.

All Might blinked. "I'm sorry...what?"

WHAT THE FUCK, TODOROKI?!

"Todoroki, bro, you can't just ask shit like that!" Kirishima exclaimed, who now, like the many people around him, was going through all the stages of grief. "That's not one of those things you can just ask people!"

Todoroki tilted his head. "I asked Midoriya."

"YOU ASKED MIDORIYA?!"

"I–"

The kids now directed their attention back to All Might, who had managed to shake himself out of his stupor and somehow made his way to the pinboard. "I'm not...young Todoroki, believe me when I say I'm 100% sure I'm not Midoriya's biological father," he said, rapidly glancing back and forth from the board to Todoroki. "As...creepily impressive as this is," he continued, gesturing to the entirety of the board, "I've never had a child, and besides, young Midoriya's biological father works overseas, in America."

He pointed to the slightly burnt newspaper clipping of Takoba beach, looking back at Todoroki. "Is this about the Takoba beach cleaning?"

Todoroki nodded.

"Huh." All Might turned to the clipping, a strange, soft, thoughtful look on his face. "I didn't know they did a report about it." He turned back to Todoroki. "May I keep this?"

Todoroki nodded again, even slower, and a delighted smile appeared on All Might's face. The four students watched with wide eyes as he took the newspaper clipping in one hand and the pin in between his other fingers, gently lifting the pin from where it had been embedded in the pin board, lifting the newspaper clipping from its place, and placing the pin back where he had found it. Seconds passed. All Might rubbing his thumb over the picture in the newspaper with a soft chuckle. He then gently folded it, each crease careful not to tear the newspaper apart, before placing it in the pocket of his tracksuit.

Then, as if he remembered that there were other people in the room, he turned to Todoroki. "Ah, Aizawa-kun said that you had redecorated your room yourself, yes?"

Todoroki nodded, still stunned. "Perfect! The bots will be up here in a few minutes or so to repair your floor, and then refurbish your room any way you see fit." All Might clapped his hands together, a bright smile on his face. "Just try not to do it as much, alright? And please stop stalking young Midoriya and I. I don't know how many times I can catch you in the act before telling him that one of his best friend's have been stalking us to obtain proof of our non-existant biological relationship."

"You saw me?"

"Young Todoroki, I've been the number one hero for three and a half decades."

"Oh." Todoroki frowned. "Sorry."

"Just don't let it happen again, please." All Might took a heavy sigh before finally addressing the others in the room. "Young Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Sero, I'll be seeing you in class tomorrow. Plus Ultra!"

"See you!"

"See you tomorrow All Might!"

All Might left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Todoroki, Kirishima, Sero, and Yaoyorozu in the room, waiting for the repair bots to arrive, silent and bewildered with what had just transpired in the past ten minutes. The four of them couldn't move, only the sound of breathing being proof that any of them were even alive. After what felt like several, long, painstaking seconds, Todoroki turned to his friends.

"Y'know, All Might worked in America for a while."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, TODOROKI."

#thestormingsea posts #yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #dad might #mentioned midoriya izuku #mentioned izuku midoriya #mentioned deku #he doesn't take a part in this story but just in case ig #and then kirishima sero and yaoyorozu are here but they don't do much

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

Text

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - The Most Peculiar Wingman

Can be found on AO3 here.

Summary: You recently moved into a new flat and you’re hearing some rather unusual sounds from your next-door neighbour’s abode. You’re worried the mysterious woman next door is involved in something dangerous. Kassandra is worried that you’re the landlord about to bust her for her lease violation.

(Sorry if you don’t like coffee and/or you speak fluent Greek.)

Word count: 2568

Damn, you’ve lucked out with your new flat. The area is pleasant, the décor is tasteful – the windowsills could use a bit more greenery, but you’ll get to that – and the letting agent wasn’t a dick. Zero hassle with bills, minimal scuffs on the walls…it’s bizarre how simple your moving process has been.

But nothing can be perfect, can it?

Over the few days you’ve lived in your new home, you noticed some rather disconcerting sounds coming from the apartment next door. Nothing that disrupts your sleep, thankfully, although your post-unpacking nap was interrupted by a very loud thud against the thin wall connecting the two flats. Thumps, crashes and very disgruntled cursing in a language you can’t quite place tend to crop up in quick succession once or twice a day. Today, though, the odd sounds seem to be omnipresent.

The strange symphony is starting to get alarming; you’re beginning to ponder if the seemingly perpetually angry woman next door is involved in violence…or, forbid, organised crime? That would certainly explain the forceful thuds and grumbling. God, what if she manages to rope you into her shenanigans? What if she is armed?

After a loud bang and an exasperated “oh, fuck you” reverberates into your apartment, you decide to investigate.

Anxiously, you pop on some slippers and step into the hall, locking the door behind you (‘I’m not about to get robbed less than a week after moving,’ you think to yourself, ‘Oh, shit, I need to get insurance…’). Stomach churning with speculation, you make the arduous four-metre trek to your neighbour’s door. Biting your lip, you rap your knuckles against the wood.

A chorus of panicked shuffling echoes through the door, causing your throat to tighten. Footsteps sprint from one side of the room to the other, the sound of shattering ceramic shrill against the heavy thudding. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” the woman hisses, muffled by the walls, followed by some shushing and the rattling of something metal. Who is this woman, what the fuck is she hiding, why am I doing this—

Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing…oh, wow.

Your neighbour is an amazon.

Flawless bronze skin, chocolate hair strewn into an unruly braid, tall and shredded with lean muscle. Her eyes are a gorgeous tawny brown, the split second of alarm disappearing from her gaze, replaced by a sparkle that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Very kissable lips upturn into a charming smile, bringing your attention to a small scar above her upper lip quirking adorably. A deeper scar sits on her nose, and the pang of anxiety returns, but your eyes need only flicker back to hers and it melts away.

“You’re not the landlord,” she says with a rich accent and curious lilt. Your cheeks feel warm.

“Uhm, hi.” You fiddle with your thumbs, mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I moved in a few days ago next door. I just heard some loud noises and was wondering if everything was alright?”

Lips curving furthermore, she braces her arms on the doorframe above and, fuck, are they nice arms. Sun-kissed, bulging against her white t-shirt, three gnarly rings cutting into her right bicep that just scream to be touched. Is this her distraction tactic?

“Oh, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t too much of a disturbance?”

When you finally pry your eyes from her arms, a tiny smirk registers on her handsome face. Bashful, you stammer, “No, it’s fine. But, uh, what caused it, if I may ask?”

The woman cranes her neck to scan the hall. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mob boss? Arms dealer? Axe murderer?

Clearly, your nervous speculations are apparent, because her eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, lovely, it’s nothing dangerous. I just have a pet bird.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, you run a hand through your hair. Just a bird. Just a bird. Her face relaxes back into a casual smile. A fresh wave of warmth caresses your cheeks at the name she gave you.

Chuckling, you joke, “Must be one big bird.”

“He’s…an eagle.”

You blink back your shock. “How on earth did you manage to get a pet eagle?”

She laughs, the melody warm and addictive. “Poor fucker followed me all the way from Kefalonia. I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye, even if it violates the lease.” Her tone is affectionate, despite her less-than-endearing name for the bird. Pushing back from the door frame – hands flexing wonderfully while she does so – she gestures for you to step in. “Come and meet him, if you’d like.”

Everything about this woman is so inviting, you can’t help but gravitate into her apartment.

“I don’t think I caught your name?” you ask shyly.

“Kassandra,” she replies, flipping the ‘r’ in her buttery accent. “And what can I call you?”

Anything you fucking want. “(Y/N) is fine,” you manage, debating whether her flat is hot or your face is akin to a beetroot.

“That’s a lovely name. Suits you perfectly,” she winks. She saunters over to a shelf with a blanket hastily thrown over it. You can’t help but observe her firm-looking behind through her jeans. Kassandra tugs away the blanket, revealing a large eagle sitting grumpily in a cage. It remains put when she unlocks the cage, standing almost defiantly.

“Don’t be like that, Ikaros,” she chastises. The eagle – Ikaros – begrudgingly flies out of his confines, perching atop the sofa in the middle of the open-plan room. “He’s gentle, I promise.” You’re doubtful, but he isn’t making any sudden moves.

“He just likes winding you up?”

“Loves it,” she grins. “He’s a little bitter I put him on a diet since he was getting a bit fat. That’s why he’s been throwing some tantrums lately.”

You smile as she scratches the top of his head before heading to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Kassandra asks, giving you another heart-melting beam. “I have coffee, orange juice, I might have some tea somewhere—”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” She asks your preference and you state it, taking in the layout of her apartment. The place gave off a very homely, Mediterranean vibe, with warm colours and white furnishings. A few hand-painted ceramic vases were dotted about – maybe she did pottery – alongside some family photographs. Atop the dining table was a woven basket brimming with ripe fruits, as well as a laptop with a pile of messy papers next to it.

“Have a seat, get comfy,” she calls over the whirring of an expensive looking coffee machine. Shyly you take the chair by the unoccupied end of the dining table. Feeling nosy, you scan the documents by her laptop, but the handwriting was all in Greek.

A minute later, Kassandra joins you with a steaming mug in her hand. “Your coffee, madame,” she announces with a pantomimic bow, evoking a laugh.

“Merci,” you thank her. “How would I say that in Greek?”

“Efharistó,” she replies. You test the word hesitantly, wincing on the second syllable, making her laugh. “Not bad,” she chuckles.

“I butchered it.”

“Try it a little softer,” she smiles, lowering her voice, giving it a sensual cadence that made your head spin. Oh, she knows she’s attractive.

“Efharistó,” you border on whisper, gay little brain surging with the overwhelming instinct to do whatever she tells you.

“There we go!” The proud quirk of her lips is all you need to see.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping the steam from the beverage will help mask your fluster. You blow on the liquid and take a sip, immediately regretting the decision as you scorch your tastebuds, repressing the urge to hiss in favour of looking cool for the hot Grecian.

“Do you, um,” you start, ignoring the numbness of your tongue, “work from home?” You wave your hand at the paperwork by her seat.

“As often as my job lets me.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a museum curator,” Kassandra beams, evidently proud of her job. “A glorified history nerd who couldn’t be fucked with the extra academia, basically.” You snort against the mug, nearly spluttering coffee over her. Smooth.

“What time in history?” Her eyes sparkle at the question, passion shining through her irises.

“Mostly the classics, ancient Greece and Rome and all that. But I did my thesis on the evolution of weaponry.” You prop your chin up on your hand as she talks, eyes lazily focused on her lips. If not for the conviction in her tone, you would have zoned out and chased some daydream about kissing those lips. Kassandra reclines back in her chair. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about yourself.”

“You sounded really passionate, though. I don’t mind if you keep talking about your job.” God, you sound like a dizzy schoolgirl who’s hot for teacher. You scald yourself with another sip of coffee in reprimanding.

Kassandra’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t usually invite beautiful women into my home to ramble about cool swords.” You blush and set down your coffee.

The two of you talk for quite some time, getting to know each other, peppering in the occasional flirtatious remark. In her company, you somehow simultaneously feel comfortable and skittish. She’s so relaxed and easy-going, but her physique and seductive demeanour fills your stomach with butterflies.

An irritated squawk cut your conversation short.

Kassandra shoots Ikaros a look before turning back to you. “Sorry about him.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, really. Damn… What was I saying again?” you ask sheepishly.

Squawk.

“Nevermind, I was probably babbling anyway,” you dismiss, sipping on your now cold beverage.

Kassandra chuckles softly. “Don’t be silly, you have the voice of an angel. You could read me the dictionary and I’d still be interested.” She probably said this to every woman she took a liking to, but you can’t bring yourself to care, far too flustered and feeling, for once, special.

Squawk.

Her eye practically twitches in anger as Ikaros flies over to the windowsill, makes unwavering eye-contact with his owner, and shits on the wood.

Kassandra looks like she wants to be euthanised.

“My god,” she mutters as you burst out laughing. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and grimaces, mouth parted as if trying to form some kind of apology for her eagle’s behaviour.

“I’m guessing you’re used to being the only one doing the flustering?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Her disgraced expression shifted back to a playful one. “If I say yes, do I sound like a whore?”

Grinning, you shake your head. “A little cocky, perhaps.”

“I’ll take cocky.” She winks and gets up. “Your coffee is probably cold, can I get you a fresh one?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“The finest,” she smirks.

“Real smooth,” you roll your eyes, smiling regardless.

Ikaros caws from the windowsill, as if mocking Kassandra’s advances. Once again, her effortless charm dissolves into a look of frustration. She grabs kitchen towels and a bottle of disinfectant from by the sink and walks over to the window, nudging the eagle so he’d move out of the way. “Maláka,” she groans, cleaning up the mess from the surface. “Μη μου το χαλάς αυτό,” she mutters to Ikaros, earning a confused look. Kassandra sighs. “Usually I wait until after the first date before introducing a beautiful lady to this little shit. That way people don’t immediately think I’m just a weird bird lesbian.”

Testing the waters, you remark, “I happen to quite fancy women with an affinity for animals.” You bite your lip and add, “And, well, you’re…very attractive.”

Smugly, Kassandra finishes disinfecting the windowsill and walks to the kitchen with a little more vigour, your compliment proving to be an ego boost.

Once again deprived of attention, Ikaros decides to flap over and join you at the table. Instinctively, you flinch as the large bird flies in your direction, but all he does is stare at you, trying to analyse the stranger in his home.

“Does – does he bite?” you ask, hesitantly standing up.

Kassandra discards the kitchen towel in the bin, washing her hands. “No, he’s very kind to everyone who isn’t me.” She flashes you a wicked grin. “I only bite when asked.”

Stammering, you choke on air, struggling to find a response. Ikaros gives her a disappointed look.

“Shit, too forward?”

You shake your head. “Not at all,” you blush. “I’ve just…never met anyone quite like you before.” Ikaros seemingly gives you a judgemental leer, and you swiftly find yourself adding, “I-in a good way, that is!”

“Oh?” Her brow is upturned, her interest piqued.

“It’s…exciting.” The eagle shuffles towards you and nuzzles your hand, apparently deciding you’re worthy of his affections. The dark feathers atop his head are surprisingly soft to touch. Smiling, you give his head a few pats, inhibitions to the wind when cute little coos vibrate from his throat. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Kassandra says softly.

You look up. “Really?”

“Really.” She joins the two of you and plucks a damson from the fruit bowl, feeding it to Ikaros while you pet him. “You’re the loveliest person to have ever set foot in this building, that’s for sure.”

Ikaros cocks his head in agreement. His beady eyes meet yours, damson juice dribbling from his beak. Do it, he’s silently telling you.

Screw it, let’s shoot our shot.

You clear your throat, mustering up some courage. “Are you free next weekend?”

Kassandra beams amorously. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she grins. “How does dinner sound?”

Fuck yes. “Really good,” you blurt out excitedly.

“There’s this great Persian restaurant a couple streets over. I’ll book us a table?”

You gasp, having seen the building on the drive when you were moving in. “The place with the garden and the pretty lights, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Sounds amazing.” Red in the face and heart pounding, your eyes dart about the apartment, fearing that you’ll combust if you look at Kassandra any longer. They settle on Ikaros, who gently butts his head against your hand, almost like a fist-bump. “Well, uh, I have a home insurance company to ring up, so I should probably get going,” you stutter.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Kassandra says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. Ikaros squawks sadly.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for staying,” she winks. The eagle coos in agreement. You give him one last pat before walking to the front door.

“Oh, before you leave, there is something you should know…” Kassandra calls, moving over to you. She delicately takes your hand, frying your brain, and leans down to your ear. You feel faint. Lowly, she whispers, “…Our Hermes guy likes to drop-kick our parcels.”

Snorting, you look up at her in disbelief. I mean, what was I expecting? A kiss? Get a grip, woman. Kassandra laughs at your expression. “Use the amazon locker down the road instead.”

“You’re amazing,” you murmur, grinning. “I’ll probably see you before next weekend, but bye, I guess?”

“Chaire,” she bids softly, opening the door for you.

When the door closes behind you, you let out a ragged breath, excitement coursing through your veins.

You are so glad you moved here.

( The Greek clause is meant to say "Don't blow this for me" but I used 5 different translators and all 5 came back with slightly different things and I sort of ip-dip-doo'd it and chose one at random...sorry. )

#kassandra of sparta #kassandra x reader #sapphic september #assassin's creed odyssey #modern au

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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years

Text

The Cabin - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader (Part 1/3)

“What’s got you so distracted?” Evans asked Tom.

“Sorry, I just…I had planned on visiting my family again during break, but most of them will be on a cruise for a family friend’s wedding. I know I saw them less than two months ago for Christmas, but I don’t get to see them often anymore.”

“Oh, damn!” Chris replied.

“I know, I’m considering whether or not it’s even worth it to deal with two incredibly long flights going to and from London if I’m not even going to get to see my family.” He said, opening the make-up trailer door for him and Chris.

“Where else were you thinking about spending break?” he asked, plopping down in the make-up chair to start having all of the Captain America washed off for the next two weeks.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I may just take a trip to somewhere much closer by myself.” Tom answered, running his fingers through his hair when his wig was removed.

“If that’s what you WANT to do, cool, but you should just come with me to the cabin.” Chris suggested.

“The cabin?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, my friend Y/N owns a huge cabin and I drag my family up there every few years.” He explained.

“Thank you for the invite, but I couldn’t intrude on your family’s time with you.” Tom politely answered.

“Come on. First, you know my mother loves you. Second, you aren’t intruding on anything.” Chris tried convincing him.

“I really don’t want to be a bother.” Tom felt guilty, knowing how much of a family person Chris was.

“That’s it.” Chris dramatically pulled his cellphone out. “Siri, call Ma!”

“You wouldn’t.” Tom said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Calling ‘Ma’” Siri’s voice replied. The make-up artists were trying hard to keep their laughs to themselves at this point.

After a few rings, Chris’ mother answered the phone. “Hey sweetie.”

“Hey Ma, I’m here with Hiddleston and I need you to settle an argument.” Chris shot Tom a snarky ‘watch this’ look.

“Tom! How are you, sweetheart?” Chris’ mom Lisa asked.

“I’m doing well, thank you. How have you been?” Tom replied with a grin on his face.

“I’m good, I’m good. Now what are you two arguing about?” She asked.

“Well, Tom isn’t going to get to see his family over filming break.” Chris started to explain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Lisa interrupted. “You should just drive up to Y/n’s with Chris! There’s plenty of room and you know I always make too much food anyhow.”

Chris gave Tom a cocky grin. “That’s exactly what I was telling him, Ma!”

“You’re too kind.” Tom laughed. “I suppose you’ve made an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re always welcome with us.” Lisa reiterated. “We’re getting ready for bed since our flight is so damn early in the morning, so I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

“Thanks, Ma! Be safe!” Chris answered, hanging up the phone.

“Thank you.” Tom said, getting up from his make-up chair.

“I told you, it’s no biggie. We’re gonna have a blast.” Evans answered.

“When are we leaving?” Tom asked.

“Well, we’ve got a few options.” Chris answered as the two of them left the make-up trailer.

“Go on.”

“They aren’t expecting us there until tomorrow, but if we leave in the next few hours, we’ll actually beat them there.” Chris explained.

“I mean, I’m nowhere near tired.” Tom said, letting Chris know he was down for the drive.

“Same. I’ve been so excited for this trip, I feel wired.” He replied “Wanna pack and meet me at mine?”

“Absolutely.” Tom answered. “Anything specific I should pack?” He called loudly as the two had walked a distance apart.

“Dress comfy!” Chris yelled back. “And bring a jacket! It’s snowing!”

Tom waved and made his way to his trailer.

It was about an 8 or 9 hour drive up to the cabin, so the guys rolled up at about 3 in the morning.

“Is anybody else here?” Tom asked, as Chris navigated his truck up the snowy drive.

“Y/n’s here. She spends about half her time up here.” Chris answered, parking the truck and shooting you a text.

“Where does she spend the rest of her time?” Tom asked.

“Everywhere, really. She’s a writer. She’s even come and crashed with me while I was filming.” Chris answered, hopping out of the truck when he got your text reply.

“Books? Scripts?” Tom asked, curious what you wrote.

“Books, mostly. She’s got a few popular series, but she also has a few pen names that she refuses to tell me so I’ve always assumed she like consults or edits or something.” Chris answered.

“How mysterious.” Tom chucked, grabbing his bag and following Chris up to the house.

“Y/n!” Chris yelled into the cabin, leading Tom into the large home.

“Did you really work all day and then drive 8 hours?” you laughed, walking down the stairs.

“I just couldn’t wait to see that beautiful face.” Chris dropped his bag and pulled you into a bear hug.

“Sure. This definitely has nothing to do with you beating Scott to one of the big bedrooms.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him.

“That’s just a perk.” He teased, introducing you to Tom. “I’m sure you know who this is. Y/n, Tom. Tom, Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You replied, pulling Tom into a hug.

“It’s very nice to meet you too.” Tom said, happy to see that you seemed just as chill and down to earth as the rest of Chris’ friends and family.

“He had to bail on his plans to fly home for the break, so I convinced him to join our two weeks of amazing chaos and shenanigans.” Chris laughed.

“Amazing is right, bucko. I just got two hot tubs installed” you shared.

“Yes!” Chris half yelled.

“Also, mi casa es su casa, Tom. Make yourself at home.” You told him.

“Gracias.” Tom replied in Spanish.

“Any chance you two want to take a dip tonight before the rest of the pack arrives?” Chris asked, looking between you and Tom.

“Absolutely” you answered, walking towards the kitchen. “You both okay with Beer? I’ve got other options.”

“Beer for me.” Chris answered.

“Actually, a beer sounds rather refreshing at the moment.” Tom answered.

“I’ll grab the beer and you two can pick your rooms” you called from the kitchen.

“You down for the hot tub?” Chris asked Tom.

“I am, but I didn’t pack any swim shorts.” He answered.

“No worries, Y/n has a whole closet full of random stuff. Follow me.” Chris led Tom up the stairs. “Y/n’s room is at the very top, but there’s two rooms just below that. We can take those two. Let those with kiddos stay closest to the bottom floor.”

“Sounds good to me” Tom replied, dropping his bag on the bed before following Chris to your closet of misfit swim clothes, jackets, sleepwear, blankets, and other miscellaneous stuff.

When you made your way upstairs, you saw that the guys had picked the two rooms closest to yours. You weren’t surprised. They were the two biggest after yours and Chris never got to pick one of them because he was always the last to show up for his family get togethers.

“When you two get changed, head up to mine. The second hot tub is on my balcony.” You took the three unopened beers and went up the last set of stairs to get changed in your room. Your suit was a black balconette bikini top and a pair of black high waisted bikini bottoms. The top and bottom had a few strappy bits that accentuated your curves.

“Well hello there, sexy lady.” You heard Chris and his unending charm behind you as you were finishing getting your top all sorted.

“You guys get settled in?” you asked, nodding towards the beers.

Chris opened one and handed it to you. “We did.” As he opened another for himself and sat on your bed, he shared a bit about Tom. “I’m happy he tagged along. I don’t know what he’s got going on in his personal life because he doesn’t share a lot, but he needs a break like this.”

“Well, if I had to take a guess...” you took a swig of your beer. “You two get along great which makes me think he’s a down to earth, genuine person.”

“I agree” Chris replied.

“If you’ve seen any of the tabloids lately, they aren’t very friendly to the exes of the women he’s most recently dated. I’m going to assume he’s a bit overwhelmed and a bit worn out. It’s hard to stay genuine and down to earth when the media is writing about you as if you’re a scheming fuckboy.”

Chris took a swig of his beer. “I think you might be right. God, beauty and brains? Why won’t you marry me?” he teased.

“Like you could handle me” you teased right back.

“I’m going to go get more beer so we don’t have to leave the hot tub.” Chris stood and smacked your ass on the way out.

“How did I know you were going to do that?” you laughed.

Chris was laughing as he passed Tom. “I’ll meet you two up there.”

When Tom walked in, you opened the last of the three beers and handed it to him. “Pink suits you.” You noticed he was wearing the bright pink swim shorts from the closet.

Tom blushed and laughed as he took a sip of his beer. “It was this or ones with bananas all over them. I thought I’d make a bold choice.”

“Choice well made” you replied, opening the double doors to your balcony. “It’s going to be a short chilly journey to the hot tub, but heaven once you get in.”

When you went to walk up the steps on the side of the hot tub to get in, Tom extended his arm so you could grab his hand. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“God, I leave for two minutes and you two are already holding hands.” Chris snarked as he joined the two of you on the balcony. You and Tom both laughed as you walked down into the hot tub and let go of his hand. “What’s he got that I don’t got?” Chris was fake sniffling as he climbed into the hot tub after Tom.

“Oh, sweetie. I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question.” You answered, finishing the beer in your hand.

“Now I really want to know” Chris replied, opening and handing you a second beer.

“Are you two always like this?” Tom laughed.

You and Chris looked at each other and answered “yeah” at the same time.

After the three of you had spent about a half hour in the hot tub just talking and laughing, Tom cleared his throat. “Thank you for this.”

“For what?” you asked. He was sat between you and Chris, the three of you looking out at the beautiful snowy mountain view.

“Chris, for inviting me. You, for having me. Both of you for forcing me to get out of my own head.” Tom answered.

“You don’t need to thank us.” Chris replied, slapping Tom on the shoulder.

“He’s right, you know.” You smiled, looping your arm through his and leaning your head on his shoulder, looking back out at the view. “You’re pretty great company if I do say so myself.”

“Well, if I can’t thank you, at least let me share my appreciation of you both.” Tom replied, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Just wait until the whole pack shows up” Chris laughed. “It’s calm now, but you’re going to have plenty of distractions once the shenanigans start.”

“Remember, my room is the safe zone” you laughed. “No kids, it’s off-limits during games, and it’s the only access to this balcony.”

“I’ll keep that in mind” Tom chuckled.

Chris looked over and saw you cuddled into Tom’s side. “Why do I get the feeling you’re ‘appreciating’ Y/n over there a lot more than you are me” he teased.

You laughed and Tom looked over at Chris. “If you wanted a snuggle, that’s all you had to say.”

The three of you were all laughing, the lateness of the night sinking in. “If I snuggle anyone I’m going to fall asleep, and I have a feeling that’s not the best idea in a hot tub.” He stood up and hopped over the side, almost slipping on the icy balcony floor.

“What time is everyone arriving tomorrow?” you asked, not moving from your spot at Tom’s side.

“Well, they always grab breakfast down at that old little diner after they land, so maybe 11?” Chris answered, wrapping himself in a towel.

“You mean we actually get to sleep in?” you said with a bit of exaggerated shock.

“I don’t think it counts as sleeping in if you don’t go to bed until after the sun starts peaking over the mountains.” Tom teased you.

Chris laughed. “Hey, we’ll take it. Sleep is going to be a rare commodity around here for at least a few days.” He left the balcony and went back inside to warm up.

“I can’t wait.” Tom said.

“Me either. I love when they come up here. Always makes this place feel more like home.” You shared, moving to get out of the hot tub.

“I think the chaos is something I miss when I don’t get to spend time with my family.” Tom replied, once again grabbing your hand and making sure you made it safely out of the hot tub and onto the balcony. “I think having all of my nieces and nephews running around and the fact that there is always something cooking or baking…It’s hard to feel alone.”

You handed Tom a large towel and wrapped another one around yourself. “Well, if that’s your idea of a great time, you’re going to love your time with Chris’ family. They’re love and chaos and great food with a dash of an extreme love of competition.”

Tom followed you back into the house. “Well, again. I appreciate that I’m able to experience it.”

“Me too” you said, drying your hair a bit with your towel. “It sounds like you needed a bit of an escape.”

“That’s one way to put it” Tom said, drying off.

“Well, if you need anything just come find me, okay?” You could hear Chris coming back up the stairs to your room.

“Thank you, I will.” Tom replied, seeming to hesitate for a second. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you tonight. Or this morning, rather.” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but smile as you threw your towel into the clothes hamper. You were a very confident person. You were proud of who you were, and you loved your curvy body, but all of a sudden you felt very naked standing there in your bikini. Tom’s genuine compliment and the way he confidently looked you up and down left you with goosebumps. “The feeling is definitely mutual.”

“Let me know if I can help with anything. Preparations and such.” Tom mentioned as Chris walked in.

“Don’t worry about that, Ma usually takes over when she gets here.” Chris laughed.

You shrugged. “True” you added, both grateful for and irritated by the interruption.

“Y/n, I checked that all of the doors were locked. Our trucks are both locked too. I’m gonna pass out and shower when I wake up.” Chris let you know.

“Thanks” you replied. “I’ll probably hop in the shower before I go to bed so that I can help your mom sort meals and such out when she gets here.”

“Sweet. I’m going to bed.” Chris interrupted himself with a yawn. “I will see both of you in a few hours”

As Chris headed back down a floor to his room, Tom cleared his throat. “I really don’t mind helping.”

“You’ll eventually get roped into doing something, I promise.” You laughed.

Tom nodded and smiled. “Well then, I’m going to go shower and sleep. I’ll see you in a bit.”

As Tom turned to walk down the stairs, you spoke. “Try to relax.” When he turned to look at you, you continued. “You have nothing to worry about for two whole weeks. No schedule, no paparazzi, no expectations…just, let yourself enjoy it, okay?”

Tom smiled and nodded his head. He replied “I think I will” before continuing down the stairs.

Instead of your alarm, you were woken up by Chris crawling into your bed. “Y/n.” He was trying to wake you up gently. “Y/n!”

“Did my alarm not go off?” you asked, rolling over and snuggling into Chris.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “I underestimated my mother’s planning. Turns out they got to the diner at 8 this morning and they’re currently unloading the cabs downstairs.”

“What time is it?” you asked.

“9:30” Chris replied, the two of you hearing someone coming up the stairs.

“I’m going to need coffee” you mumbled.

Tom made it to the top of the stairs and saw you and Chris together in your bed. He tucked the thought away, making note to ask Chris about the two of you later. “Not a morning person?” he asked, laughing at your messy bed head and request for caffeine.

“I can be when I need to be, but we were awake and drinking on my balcony like four hours ago” you replied.

“Can I make you some coffee?” Tom offered.

You rolled over and sat up sorting out your messy hair. “I can make it. I just need to get dressed.”

Chris rolled out of your bed, going to your closet. “Bra, leggings, sweater, fuzzy socks.” Chris tossed your clothes onto your bed.

“You know me so well.” You laughed, gathering your clothes and getting out of bed. “I’ll be down in a few.”

“I think they’re finished unloading, but I’ll go see if there’s anything else they need help with.” Tom replied, heading downstairs.

“I’m offended that you two look like you’ve just had 12 hours of beauty sleep.” You teased Chris, pulling your leggings on.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself” Chris said, turning to leave. “You’ve definitely caught someone’s attention.” Chris had noticed the way Tom looked at the two of you cuddled up in your bed and planned on asking him about it later.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sleepily asked, but Chris was already gone.

You finished getting dressed in your long, oversized sweater and fuzzy socks and walked downstairs to greet Chris’ family.

“Y/n!” Chris’ sisters greeted, pulling you each into a hug, the three of you quickly catching up.

Then came Scott, who practically tackled you. “Bitch, it has been too long.”

“Agreed.” You replied, the two of you making plans to go get stuff for drinks tonight.

You’d said a few hellos and given a few hugs to various other friends and family and eventually you made your way to the kitchen with Tom and Lisa, Chris’ mom.

“Oh, my dear, it’s so good to see you.” Lisa pulled you into a tight hug, kissing both of your cheeks. “I can’t believe the boys showed up at three this morning!”

You laughed. “It’s good to see you too. And Chris warned me a few days ago that he would probably drive up after he finished filming.”

Looking over you saw Tom holding a mug of coffee out towards you. “For me?” You reached out and took the mug from him.

“It’s the least I could do. Lisa told me how you take your coffee.” He answered, nodding towards Chris’ mom.

You took a sip, humming to yourself. “Thank you, this is perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to Tom’s cheek before hearing Chris’ niece call for you.

“In the kitchen, sweetie” you called back out, walking towards where you heard her call from.

As the adults started getting settled into their rooms, the kids were all starting to crash from the hectic morning they’d had.

“Let’s watch a movie in the den, guys.” You suggested, grabbing blankets and pillows and throwing them on the couches and floor so that the kids would spread out and nap.

“What are we gonna watch?” one of his nephews asked.

“Well, we’ve got Goosebumps, we’ve got School of Rock, and we’ve got Bedtime Stories.” You read the movies aloud, with the kids all picking Goosebumps. About 15 minutes in, all of you were asleep in various places in the room.

Scott, Chris, and Tom were bundled up in their jackets talking on the back porch as Chris set up your grill and got it ready to use.

“So how long have you guys known Y/n?” Tom asked.

“Oh, god. It’s been…I don’t even know. It’s been years.” Chris thought about how long you guys had been friends.

“Chris met Y/n one day in New York. She was there for a book project or something and Chris had ducked inside her apartment building to get away from paparazzi.” Scott laughed, remembering Chris tell him the story.

Chris let out a big laugh. “She was getting ready to walk out and I practically ran into her. When she realized why I so rudely shoved my way into the building, she asked me ‘Do you want to do something very immature but totally worth it?’ I had to, right?”

Scott continued the story. “She led him up to her apartment and ran inside. Chris just waited at the door wondering what he’d gotten himself into when she popped back out, holding a box of water balloons.”

Tom laughed. “Oh, please tell me you threw them at the paparazzi.”

“They did. They filled a bin full of them and went to the roof.” Scott replied.

“I have never made a friend so quickly in my life” Chris said. “We got through about half of the bin before they left. Even better, they never got a picture of me throwing the balloons. The tabloids alluded to the fact that it was me, but we never officially got caught.”

“I don’t know if she adopted us or if we adopted her, but she’s been family ever since.” Scott added.

“Either way, she’s the best kind of people.” Chris said, closing the lid on the grill.

“I can see that.” Tom replied. After a short pause, he continued. “Have you two ever…dated?”

Chris grinned, remembering how Tom had looked at the two of you cuddled up in your bed. “Nah, she’s one of my best friends. Possibly my actual best friend.” he answered, sitting down next to the other two guys.

“Even though I’m sure ma would love it if you two got together.” Scott laughed.

“I think ma just wants both of us to settle down and have kids like the girls did.” Chris replied. “She treats Y/n like a daughter.”

Scott looked back at Tom. “Why the interest in Y/n’s dating life, huh?” he teased him.

“Just curious” Tom answered with straightest face he could manage.

“I don’t know” Chris continued, continuing to tease Tom. “You two looked awfully cozy last night.”

Tom’s cheeks blushed a bit before he could answer. “If a beautiful woman laid her head on your shoulder, what would you have done?”

“Fair point.” Chris laughed. “She’s single, you know” he added.

“She is” Scott echoed, smirking. “And I have a date to go shopping with her if you want me to see if she’s interested.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” Tom replied, failing miserably at hiding his grin.

“No rush” Scott answered, putting his hands up. “I’m just saying…”

“Give him a break” Chris interrupted. “He’s got two weeks to see where things go.”

“True” Scott replied.

Part 2

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #Tom Hiddleston x curvy reader #Loki

167 notes · View notes

glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

#hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #x reader

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing iii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 393

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“You’re bailing again?” Taehyung looks up from his stack of books for the first time in the last hour since the two of you have started your study date. Granted, he meant no spite but he didn’t understand what set you to flee. The name that was almost taboo to you; the name that brings more tugs to your heart that hurts than one that’s fond.

You glance up at him with meek eyes, “I have an office hour with my economics professor in half an hour.”

Taehyung purses his lips.

“This is the fourth time this week you’ve ditched.” Taehyung sounds mildly irritated and you don’t blame him. You made a promise months ago before mid-terms coming up that you’d help him with statistics. But before the two of you could ever get into the nitty-gritty details of math; somehow the forbidden name comes up.

“I know.” You say softly. “I’m sorry …” You don’t say anything else because your heart is speeding up in a way that is anxiety-inducing. Because Taehyung off-handedly mentioned that Jungkook would be dropping by in a few; and you didn’t know when he’d turn up and you rather not stick around to find out.

His words still linger in your mind and every time there was any prompt to remind you of his face, or his name—you remember the way his words sounded so assured in the context of the situation first. You remember the malevolence that lied behind his usually kind eyes. But it’s like the eyes filled with desire in a one-dimensional view of your body replaced the youthful mirth you grew up with.

“Look.” Taehyung sighs, pushing himself up to look at you with a stern stare. “If you don’t want to tutor me that’s fine. I can find another tutor. But I’d appreciate if you’d let me know beforehand so I don’t have to come all the way just for an hour then have you leave once the content begins to get tougher.”

Taehyung was by no means being rude or outwardly offensive. He was straightforward and you appreciated that he was honest with you. And rather, you feel guilty of the fact that you bailed for your own selfish reasons.

“I do want to tutor you.” You tell him, fiddling with your fingers as your eyes dart to the doors of the library. “It really just slipped my mind.”

It sounds lame, even to you; and Taehyung picks up on it too.

“You don’t forget things like this.” He says pointedly. “It’s like every time I mention—”

Taehyung stops himself and your eyes dart away, hands already tugging your bag over your shoulder. Maybe if you sped up, he wouldn’t stare at you with an inquisitive stare that looked similar to one of realisation.

“Did something happen between you and Kook?”

You wince. Taehyung is observant.

“Are the two of you—?”

“I’m fine.” You snap, tone defensive and on edge when you hear the bell of the library door ring. You don’t dare to turn to look. “We’re fine.”

“_____ …” Taehyung frowns.

“I gotta go. Okay?” You huff, offering one last apologetic look before you turn to leave. But in your haste, you bump into a solid figure and you’re terrified that it’s—

“Careful.” A deeper, unfamiliar but welcomed voice murmurs.

When your eyes look up, it’s just someone you recognise from Jungkook’s football games. You were sure he was a key player too. His stature was definitely one of an athlete. He was tall, broad, and firm; and the black shirt that hugged his chest only emphasised your guess.

“S-Sorry.” You squeak, looking down.

You brush past him before he can get another word in, and only when you slip past him do you see Jungkook lingering behind with a frown on his face.

“______—” He calls.

You’re able to leave before he can get a hold of you; and that only causes the frown on Jungkook’s face to harden.

When the door rings once more to signal your departure, Jungkook is already sat with Taehyung and the other person that bumped into you.

“What’s up with the two of you?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook stiffens and responds with a grit of his teeth. “Nothing.”

Taehyung doesn’t look convinced and Namjoon—though recently enlightened with the fact that there was potentially something brewing between the two of you—was also observant enough to pick up on the tense atmosphere that you left with.

“Aren’t the two of you super close?” Namjoon says offhandedly, already shifting through his assignments while he lays them out.

Jungkook wants to let out a dry scoff at the assumption. Sure, the two of you were close. He isn’t so sure about that anymore.

“You’re clearly lying to me.” Taehyung snorts. “So whatever it is the two of you are keeping a secret please just sort it out because I need _____ here to tutor me and you’re getting in the way of my education.”

Taehyung mostly says this as a joke, but it strikes Jungkook straight where it’s vulnerable. He wasn’t going to be the first to break, nor will he indulge Taehyung into what he said to you in the same library they were in at this very moment.

So instead, Jungkook brushes it off like he’s been doing so more recently than ever.

“Whatever.” He mutters.

For some reason, you see Jungkook again on the same day—accompanied by the same person that you bumped into.

You realise that you’ve spent more time avoiding him than dealing with your feelings after what transpired. But you’re weak and you suppose you’ve always been weak when it came to Jungkook.

It was difficult … to say the least. Because while Jungkook’s words were malicious and filled with the intent to hurt and break you; the better (and foolish) part of you wanted to believe that he was angry. Driven by emotions that he wasn’t thinking straight. But while you were naive, you were also substantially aware that there had to be some form of truth to the words he’s thrown at you.

But this was the same Jungkook that you grew up with, the young boy you’ve somehow seen transition from awkward and endearing teen to … to the confident and assured man he was. You didn’t want to make any excuses for him but you’ve always been soft. And you hated that your eyes somehow still linger on his approaching figure when the rational side of your brain tells you to run away.

However, it’s not him who greets you. It’s his friend. The one you vaguely recognise but can’t quite put a name to a face.

“Hey!” He calls out to you.

His smile is easy with a dimple appearing on his cheeks. He looks kind and soft for someone that was easily a head taller than you were, and despite his height—there was something oddly comforting about the way he approaches you as if he knows you.

You try to ignore the coldness from Jungkook’s end and remind yourself that you should’ve felt angry—not the other way around.

“Hi?” You say, or more appropriately ask.

Jungkook’s expression is still blank; every time your eyes briefly linger on his face you wonder how it’d ended up this way.

“_____, right? I’ve seen you at a few of our games.” His friend enters a conversation so seamlessly. “Kook’s never introduced us, though.”

You clear your throat and you hope your face isn’t a dead giveaway of your discomfort. Especially when you blatantly ignore Jungkook’s piercing stare on the side of your temple.

“I don’t … mingle around that much.” You say softly,

And it’s parallel to the image that Jungkook has of you. The quiet, timid girl that’s free time is consumed with books and assignments than a social life to make up for it. You used to think that maybe you weren’t the type that enjoyed large or loud gatherings. But Jungkook’s voice only makes you wonder if you were the problem instead.

“Well, I’m Namjoon.” He smiles at you, offering a grin filled with teeth that you find yourself unconsciously returning, albeit awkwardly.

“Nice to meet you … uh … Namjoon.” You mumble, and your eyes nearly land on Jungkook’s face out of pure habit, but you stop yourself before you hurt yourself even more.

“It’s nice to formally meet you too. I’ve been asking Jungkook to introduce the two of us since forever ago but he seemed dead set on keeping you to himself.” Namjoon jokes lightly. And you almost miss it, but you swear Jungkook stiffens by his side.

“Ah …” You reply lamely, fingering your strap as you shift on your heels.

It feels awkward to not acknowledge Jungkook; you’re wondering if Namjoon picks up on the cold air between the both of you. Namjoon looks like he’s thinking of something, but before he can say anything—Jungkook is tugging his arm roughly.

“We have practice.” Jungkook grits, finally making himself known.

Your eyes dart to your feet, and you hate how small you feel in his presence. It should’ve been easy but this was the hardest part of it all. Pretending like you were objectively okay when his words constantly lingered at the back of your mind.

“Go ahead without me. I want to ask _____ something.” Namjoon shrugs Jungkook’s hand off of him. And this time you catch the venomous glare that he shoots his friend, accompanied by the clench of his jaw.

“Coach will—”

“I’m the captain, remember?” Namjoon snorts, but it’s not condescending. Just a reminder.

Jungkook purses his lips and his eyes dart between the two of you; and you know him well enough to know that there’s something on his mind, especially with the way he nibbles on his bottom lip.

“Don’t be late.” Jungkook grits, stomping off in the other direction without even sparing you a glance.

You frown at him because he was the one that came to you that day unwarranted; treating you like absolutely nothing as if there weren’t years of history behind the two of you.

But Namjoon is large enough to distract you because he quite literally blocks the view of Jungkook’s disappearing body with his own when he stands right in front of you.

“Sorry about that.” Namjoon looks sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind …” He trails off as he scratches the back of his neck.

Your eyes widen as you shake your head, “N-No! It’s fine. Just … uh … what’s up?” You wince inwardly at your horrible social skills and you have a slight understanding of why Jungkook pointed out the things he did. Maybe he was right—

“I—well …” Namjoon mumbles, and he seems less assured than he was earlier. “I think—you’re really—cool?—and smart—you seem nice so … sorry! God.” He rambles as he brushes his hands over his face.

You blink at him.

Namjoon takes your reaction as a bad one as he winces, chuckling lowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m not this … awkward.” He tells you.

You nod your head slowly trying to process his words. And you feel a little guilty knowing that your lack of response probably pushes Namjoon further into his shell. But he has a glare in his eye that shows that he won’t be affected so easily.

“Well.” He clears his throat. “I follow your podcast. And I think it’s really great. You offer some really interesting perspectives on the War on Drugs—or as you mentioned—the disproportionate effects of racial tension that lead to unjustified or mass incarceration rates in the U.S.”

Somehow you know you’ve said the exact same words in the monthly podcast you do with the International Relations department for extra credit. But when Namjoon speaks, it’s as if he’s carefully picking apart the context and nuance of your words so carefully before he quotes it back to you; as if he treats your opinion with heavy regard and not one of the light matters.

You feel flattered.

“Oh.” You blink. “Thank you?”

Namjoon offers you an easy grin. And you recall: captain of the football team, he says? He doesn’t really … fit the stereotype. Besides the fact that he looked insanely fit. He was gentle, that much you could tell. But you also were a little biased when it came to footballers because you only had Jungkook to compare him with.

“Sorry for just springing that on you.” He apologises sheepishly and you’re even more confused as to why he feels the need to say sorry. “It’s just that Kook was always so bitchy about introducing me to you whenever I asked so … I thought why not take the chance myself?”

You gape at him. You don’t know what to do with the set of new information you’re presented with. Firstly, the fact that someone like Namjoon paid attention to a nobody like you? And secondly, the weird revelation that Jungkook somehow gate kept his friendship … or whatever the fuck it was … with you.

“No, no.” You shake your head, “I’m really flattered. Thank you. No one’s ever … told me that before.” You give him a gentle smile because that’s all you can muster.

Namjoon returns it tenfold as he hikes his bag across his shoulder.

“Well, I gotta go now. Practice calls.” He jokes, waving at you. For a moment, he stills; as if remembering something before he fishes out a piece of paper from his pocket and shoves it to you in a haste.

“What is—?”

“My number. You know—if you ever want to talk. About … stuff. I think you’re super smart—and intelligent. They’re synonymous but yeah. If you want.” He rambles.

You blink up at him and before you can muster a response, he’s darting away.

You watch his figure retreat and notice that Jungkook is waiting for him a good distance away. But his eyes aren’t on Namjoon’s somewhat giddy figure—but on you.

He stares at you long and hard, and you feel conflicted. The paper in your hand nearly chafes, but the feeling is easily forgotten when his expression hardens.

When Namjoon reaches him with a clasp to his back, the pair walks off. Not before he gives you one passing glance over his shoulder that leaves you feeling more restless than ever.

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afriendlyblackhottie · 3 years

Text

Kin

Summary: Bucky’s been acting weird and you can’t help it when you expect the worst.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, swearing, breeding kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, GGFIL (you’ll see), arguing, cheating accusations

(A/N: this is different but I had fun writing it. And isn’t that what matters. Reblog follow like 💜✌🏾)

Tagging: @titty-teetee @zaddychris @queenoftheworldisdead @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @mariahthelioness29 @donutloverxo @little-baby-vixen @mochamaniacbabe @brattycherubwrites @iam-laiya @whiskey-cokenfanfic @doloreshazes

——————————————————————————-

Bucky had never given you a reason to not trust him. He’d been nothing, but the perfect boyfriend now fiancé for the two years you’d been together. Sure it was a little difficult dating an Avenger mostly because you worried about him coming back to you, but still being with him was kind of perfect.

The first time you started to sort of question things was when a phone number fell out of his pocket while you were doing laundry. Some girls name written on a napkin. You didn’t want to jump to any conclusions especially since it’s not like he wasn’t meeting new people everyday because of work. Who knows it was probably nothing.

Then he came home all late that day smelling like vanilla. You know it was bad, but you tried to check his phone while he was sleeping. Not that it worked because your super assassin fiancé was a very light sleeper and woke up before you could even try.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, in that sleepy voice.

“Oh it’s nothing,” you said, playing it off by stroking his hair. You know you should have said something, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

All he did was smile and kiss you before pulling you close. Like everything was fine. You know you should have asked him right then. The words had been on the tip of your tongue.

But you didn’t ask. Instead you let him roll on top of you before he started making out with you. Would a man that’s cheating be fucking your mouth with his tongue like that. Probably.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked with a sigh, putting his forehead to yours.

You shrugged, looking down at his mouth so you didn’t have to look him in the eye. “It’s nothing.” Then you out a fake smile on to really sell it.

“Come on,” he whispered. “You know I know you better than that. If somethings wrong you can tell me. Daddy’ll take care of you, Doll.”

You made the mistake of looking into his blue eye that seemed to be seeing into your soul. There was always this gentleness towards you. That he seemed to save for you especially.

“I’m fine,” you replied before rolling over on your side away from him. Bucky sighed again before wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Hey, so I’m busy tomorrow, but when I get home why don’t we do something?” He asked into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to it. “Just the two of us?”

You nodded, but didn’t reply out loud because if you did he’d hear that you were crying. You’d rather not deal with it.

So the next day you went to get some stuff done. Grocery shopping and shit. On the way home you passed by this coffee shop, recognizing his car as some girl got into the passanger seat.

Your stomach felt like it was doing fucking somersaults on the way home. You tried to keep yourself busy. Not wanting to think about Bucky or his lying cheating face.

When the door opened, you could hear him set his keys down on the table beside the door. You were making dinner because you were hungry. He could worry about himself.

“Fuck it smells good in here, Baby,” he said, coming to hug you from behind before kissing your cheek.

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead you continued to cook and even though he noticed how quiet you were, he didn’t let go of you.

“What? No hello?” He asked, kissing your neck.

You tried to shrug him off, but no you just had to be engaged to a super assassin who was strong as fuck.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head because you were pretty sure if you’d say anything you’d explode. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it. You were trying to keep an ounce of dignity instead of blowing up like your brain was telling you too. “Nothing.”

Bucky leaned up against the counter beside you, bringing your face up so he could look at you. “Baby, I know you better than that.” He tried to smile to get you to open up then it faltered when he saw that you were clearly not in the mood. “C’mon. Just tell me what’s up.”

“Nothing, James.” You turned off the stove because now you’d lost your appetite. As you tried to walk away he grabbed your hand.

At hearing his first name, he crinkled his nose. “Baby,” he whined all pouty, “please. I let it go last night, but you’ve never not talked to me. What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’re supposed to be getting married in two months and you’re cheating on me.”

Bucky looked so taken aback. His face getting all scrunched up. “What?”

“Oh so now you don’t know what I’m talking about?” You scoffed. “I saw you.”

“Saw me doing what?” He scoffed out a laugh. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Bullshit!” You yelled. “You’re lying to me!”

His jaw clenched as you raised your voice. “Watch your tone,” he commanded. “I didn’t cheat on you. I have no idea what you’re even talking about.”

“Really? Well then who the fuck is Becca?” You finally asked.

Bucky pulled away and you finally turned to face him. “How did you...” he trailed off.

“So, it’s true. You’re cheating on me?” You asked with a sniffle.

He shook his head. “No! Of course not, Baby,” he said.

“You’re lying! I saw you, James. I fucking saw you with her!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders. “Let’s just calm down so we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I want you out.”

He shook his head. “No, Baby,” he said. “I know how this looks, but I promise it’s not like that. I’m not... I’m not cheating on you. I’d never.”

“Fine then explain.”

Bucky hesitated. Closing his eyes like he was trying to find the right words.

“If you don’t tell me then I want you out.”

It wasn’t like this was the first time you and Bucky had ever fought. This was just the first time you’d ever done this. Usually when he messed up, he’d buy you flowers or kiss you until you forgave him. This time you needed to let him know that none of that would work.

He scrunched up his face before finally looking at you. “Okay. Becca is...” he took a deep breath. “Becca’s my great granddaughter.”

You also finally understood what it meant for it to be so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Bucky’s eyes bore into yours as he gave his answer.

“Can we just sit and talk?” He asked.

You nodded and he turned off the stove so he could grab your hand to lead you over to the couch. He sat you down in his lap and you couldn’t help it as you started crying into his chest because you felt like the worlds biggest asshole.

“Hey, Baby, don’t cry,” he said. “Not like you could have known. Hell not like I knew until recently.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him with tears in your eyes. “We usually tell each other everything.”

“Because... I dunno I was waiting for the right time. It’s kind of hard to go to your fiancé and ‘go hey meet my great granddaughter, Baby.’” He chuckled before wiping your tears. “Or that I have a son and he’s seventy-six.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Bucky nodded and laughed. “I know right. It’s...” he sighed, “it’s so weird, but I’ve been hanging out with them and its been kind of great actually. Having a family. Hate that I didn’t get to see him grow up.”

“God I’m... such a bitch.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You would have never guessed,” he replied, placing a kiss to the side of your head. “So, yeah. Becca is my great granddaughter. I was picking her up from work. She’s seventeen.” He looked down then at you again. “I just... I wanna be in their lives. Make up for lost time.”

You nodded. “I get that.”

“I should have told you. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to get freaked out.”

“Bucky, I’d never get freaked out over something like that,” you said. “Things are different for you and I wanna be as understanding as possible.”

He smiled. “I know, but doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I know.” You put your head into his neck. “God I’m such an asshole.”

“No you’re not. Any woman would have assumed the worst like you did. I didn’t give you any reason not to.”

Your lip trembled as tears fell from your eyes again. “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“I know, Baby,” he whispered.

“So, how did you find out?” You asked.

“Becca came looking for me. Saw stuff about the Avengers and saw me. My son James, his mom told him all about me so...”

You smiled, but you were still all teary eyed from the way you’d talked to him just now. “I’m so happy for you, Baby.”

“Yeah, well, they’re your family now too. If you still wanna get married.”

“Of course I do! I was just... I was scared to lose you so I freaked out.”

Bucky kissed your cheek. “You’re never gonna lose me, Doll. Besides, if anything this all just made me wanna be with you more. All I can think about is making babies with you.”

You laughed. “You would.”

“It’s true. All this just made me realize how bad I wanna have a family with you. I just... I mean our wedding is two months away, would it be so bad if we started trying now?”

You shrugged and he smiled before leaning into kiss you.

“Tell me you don’t want me to put a baby in this pussy and I’ll back off until the wedding,” he whispered into your ear.

“Daddy, I...”

You could feel him growing harder against your ass as he started grinding you into him. Fuck he knew how to get you to that point. You hated how it took pretty much nothing for you to want him to fuck the shit out of you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear. “Tell me you wanna have my baby.”

You sighed so deeply because his breath against your year was making you feel fucking feral. “I want it.” It was like you couldn’t even stop yourself from saying it.

“What do you want. Tell Daddy what you want.”

You looked up at him with those big eyes. “I want you to put a baby in me.”

“Yeah? I wanna make you a mommy, Doll,” he said, before putting his metal hand around your neck as he leaned you into him. He helped you pull your legging down until you could kick them off. Then kissed your shoulder as he spread your legs. “You want Daddy to put a baby in this little pussy, Baby?” He asked now that he’d pushed your panties to the side so he could play with your clit.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, leaning back so you could connect your lips to his. He started doing that thing again where his tongue fucked your mouth.

All that plus with the way he was touching you was making you forget all about how embarrassed you felt for accusing him of such a terrible thing. You should know that your daddy would never hurt you like that.

“Gotta teach you a lesson now,” he said. “Don’t you ever accuse me of something like that again. I should fucking spank you.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your pussy feeling all tingly from the way his fingers were rubbing you making you let out a moan. “Daddy!”

“That’s it, Slut. Don’t you ever threaten to take this pussy from me again. It’s mine.” He growled into your ear and it made your stomach tighten especially when he started nibbling on it.

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Good little slut,” he said. “You know better. This is mine.” Bucky’s fingers now dipped into your pussy making you let out a whine.

“Yes, Daddy!” You mewled as he stuffed your pussy with his thick fingers. Metal hand going from your neck to your tits.

“You’re lucky I can’t wait to fuck you or else I’d be punishing you, Doll,” he said as he groped you.

You leaned back so you could kiss him again. Reached between the two of you so you could take hold of his dick through his pants. Enjoying how hard he felt through the denim. “I know, Daddy.”

“You’re so lucky I wanna cum in this pussy instead.” Thats when he tore his hands out of you before forcing you to stand up. Bucky undid his pants, pushing them and his boxers off before pulling you back down.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking you down on his dick. Hands on your ass as he helped you move up and down. “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you whimpered. “All yours.”

Bucky grabbed the hem of your top so he could pull it over your head, watching as your tits bounced. “That’s right, Doll. Not gonna pull that shit again.”

You shook your head and then threw it back as you moaned. Bucky pushed you to the side against the couch before getting up so he could climb on top of you.

“Fucking love this juicy pussy,” he said. His metal arm coming to grab at your thigh as he bent your leg over his shoulder.

He thrusted in and out of you, shoving himself inside of you as his dick stretched you out. You tugged at his t-shirt that he hadn’t taken off. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Your head was bent back against the couch as you let out this low moan. “Fuck, Bucky!” Your eyes were watering as you started to feel your orgasm coming to you.

“That’s it, Baby, I know you want it. Want Daddy to cum in your pussy?”

You nodded as he got up so he could hold your throat again because he knew how much you loved it. “God, yes. I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” He groaned. “Gonna cum on Daddy’s dick?” He was all in your face.

You reached up so you could tug on his hair. “Yes! Fuck, please.”

“Good because I’m gonna cum in you. Daddy’s gonna gonna fill you up, Y/N.”

You cried out wrapping your legs around him as you came so hard. Maybe it was from all that bullshit and you almost ruining everything because fuck it felt so damn good. Especially with the way he was fucking you through it.

That was when he got closer to you. His balls slapping against your ass as he started getting really deep into you. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Daddy’s gonna cum in this pussy, Baby. I know that’s what you need, Baby. Need Daddy to keep you pregnant.”

“Uh huh,” you moaned.

“I’m gonna keep getting you pregnant for as long as you can. Make you have so many babies.”

You couldn’t help it as the noises you were making started getting louder. “Yes. Please.”

That’s when his hips stilled as he started to fill you. His seed flooding into your womb for the first time. He put his head into your neck once he started moving them again, trying to make sure he could give you ever last drop.

He laid there on top of you. Breathing all heavy before pressing kisses into your neck again. “Was that our first time without a condom?” He asked.

“Uh huh,” was all you could say. It was like you couldn’t move.

Bucky chuckled seeing you all frozen before yawning and getting off of you. He grabbed you so he could carry you to your room, cradling you in his arms. When he finally laid you down he pulled the comforter over your body, pretty much tucking you in.

He took his shirt off before getting in beside you, “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you replied your brain feeling like it couldn’t think.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. You just made my mind into goo,” you grumbled.

Bucky smiled before kissing your nose. “Good.” He held you around your waist. “So,” he breathed, “what do you think about meeting everyone.”

“How much is everyone?” You asked with a smile, turning to him.

“There’s James. And, he had a son also named James and then he had a son named Kyle. He’s twenty-two.” Bucky laughed.

Your jaw dropped. “Jesus.”

He was still laughing. “I know, right. And he looks just like me. It’s kinda scary.” But, there was this softness in his face. It was different than the one he gave you, but there was almost this pride you’d never seen him have before. “Then there’s Becca. She’s so much like me it’s terrifying. She even has a friend like Steve. It’s awful.”

This time you laughed with him. “Would it be bad if I met them?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been wanting you to, they’ve even been asking, but I just... I didn’t wanna freak you out about being a great grandma.”

You pouted, creasing your brow. “Baby, I know how strange your life is to say the least. I’ve kinda made peace with the idea that there’s going to be random shit popping up. Kinda what I signed up for when I agreed to marry an old man.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped, before he patted your butt. “You’re such a brat,” he said before kissing you. Then he pulled you away. “Wait I didn’t tell you about Noel and Kimmy.”

You laughed and then wrapped your arms around him as he told you about the two youngest kids. God you felt like such an asshole now. Maybe a blowjob later would make it up to him.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x black!reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #Sebastian Stan x black!reader

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