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cno-inbminor · 3 years ago

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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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taechaos · 4 years ago

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from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds.

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all.

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point.

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people.

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before.

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you…

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I��ll talk to you when you’re not busy.”

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images.

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing!

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips.

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm.

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well.

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile.

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you.

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door.

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully.

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter.

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts.

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him.

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out.

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy.

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you.

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too…

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jjk smut #bts fic #kpop #jungkook fic #jeon jungoook smut

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

Text

Hair Bows

Roy Harper x batsis!reader

Summary: a date turned into a play date turned into work. Basically Lian taking over Titans tower. And canon has no home here.

“I’m just about to head out the door,” you said over the phone, still doing your hair. Roy wasn’t the most punctual guy and this was your way of coping. If you were also always late, it didn’t bother you as much.

“Wait,” Roy said and you heard a muffled sound like him running his hand down his face. “I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“My babysitter punked out at the last minute so I can’t leave Lian. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Oh, uhhh, bring her,” you suggested, hopefully sounding casual. You’d met her a few times but nothing big and your date was just a walk in the park. Nothing a kid couldn’t do. And you were hoping to be a little more seriously dating.

“Seriously?... on a date?” He asked.

“Not if you don’t want to. But I just thought we were going to the park and we can let her run around. You know what? Never mind, if you need to stay home it’s cool. I don’t know anything about kids-“

“Hey, it’s a good idea,” he said stopping your ramble. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Most people don’t want someone else’s kid on their date.”

“Most people shouldn’t date people with kids if they can’t be around them,” you answered, finishing up. “Now am I meeting you both at the park or..”

“Now I know why I’m dating you,” Roy said and you could hear the smile through the phone. “I’ll pick you up. Lian’s not a fan of riding in other people’s car so Uber is out.”

“Can’t blame her. See you soon,” you answered.

——————————

You had changed into a slightly less sexy and more family friendly top and sensible shoes by the time Roy picked you up. Can’t chase a kid in heels.

Roy looked nice in a button down and jeans with no holes in them. Not a trucker hat in sight. And of course, Lian was a doll in a spring themed dress and leather bottomed sandals. The first thing she showed you was an impressively high kick.

“And it’s okay because dad makes me wear shorts under it. For taking out punks,” she said knowingly. You nodded.

“For punks. Good idea.”

“In case they get fresh,” Roy said to you as she ran to a slide.

“Fresh? She’s 5. Maybe Lian should teach me that move. I know this guy that’s always trying to get fresh,” you said as he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Hmmm, should I kick his ass,” Roy said playfully.

“I’d pay to see you kick your own ass,” you said with a laugh.

“Ouch, and I thought you liked me,” he said, sounding dramatically wounded. You laughed again.

“The entertainment value tho. Hard to beat.”

“So many ‘hard to beat’ jokes I would make right now,” he whispered in your ear and you pulled out of his arms. You were rolling your eyes but the grin ruined the disapproving air you were trying to have.

“Not that kinda date,” you reminded him and as if on cue, Lian ran over to Roy and grabbed his hand. She started dragging him to a food truck.

“Can we get a funnel cake? Or ice cream? Or a hotdog?” She asked excitedly.

“Hotdog and then ice cream on top of a funnel cake,” he said in a mock serious tone as he bent down beside her. She grinned widely. “We aren’t animals!” She squealed and dragged him to food truck.

You grinned as you watched them. Roy had fucked up a ton but this was not one of those times. Nope, he was a great dad. He looked back at you confused as why you hadn’t joined them and you jogged over to them.

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” you said as they made your food. Roy had a hand casually around your waist as Lian tried to swing on his other arm.

“Bout what?” He asked.

“How good a dad you are,” you admitted. He gave you a shy crooked smile before kissing your forehead.

“You bats are always in your head too damn much. But thanks,” Roy ended softly. He handed Lian a giant hotdog that she promptly started eating before giving you your food and he his. “Let’s find a spot to sit before you drop that giant hotdog.”

As Lian licked sticky sweet ice cream coated funnel cake pieces off of her arm, Roy’s phone went off. He smiled apologetically before getting up to answer it. A few minutes later he came back to the table looking even more apologetic.

“Titans business. I have to go but...” he started, running a hand through his red hair. “I don’t have a babysitter.”

“I could watch her,” you suggested and Lian looked up at him kinda sad. “I could watch her at the tower. You’d be right there but we’d stay out of the way.”

“You sure? That isn’t too much?” He said unsure, looking between you both.

“Yeah, I’ve watched kids before. And I know the tower really well. We’ll watch movies and fall asleep. Do you want a sleep over?”

“Yeah! Go on dad, I’m fine,” she said waving a hand at him. You both laughed. “Dads,” Lian said rolling her eyes playfully. Yep, she’s Roy’s alright. “Do you have popcorn?”

“Yep!”

“Candy?”

“Yep! And I know where my brother Tim keeps the good imported stuff,” you said and she grinned.

“Not too much. Or staying up too late. Or anything scary or too grown up,” Roy said on the way to the tower. “And if anything happens. Anything. Get to the panic room.”

“I know the procedures,” you said putting a hand on his shoulder. “And I can keep her safe. Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”

“And I can kick punks!” Lian said proudly.

“And she’ll kick punks! I’m hoping she hits Gar first. Did you know he can turn into any animal? He just chooses to be a punk,” You said and she giggled.

“Wow!”

“Alright. No kicking punks unless it’s really important because-“

“My body is a weapon. I know, dad,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Roy repeated the same sort of things up in the living quarters of the tower before giving you both a kiss. “Stay safe,” he said before going downstairs.

Some of the younger Titan recruits didn’t leave on the mission and were hanging out or training. You walked Lian over to the couch and went to find a movie she might like. You dusted off the dvds they had. Probably hadn’t added any new ones in many years with the extensive funding of Batman giving them every streaming service ever.

“How about this movie,” you asked, holding up a sun bleached dvd case. “Space jam?”

Lian looked at it carefully before nodding. You put it in the player and came back. “What about popcorn? Dad says movies are crap without it.”

“Oh,” you said. “Right. I’ll make some.”

“Popcorn?” Came a voice around the corner before the next you saw was a wind of red. “Hey kiddo,” Bart aka impulse said to Lian before shaking her hand. “Let’s pick a movie. There are some pretty good ones I haven’t seen. I’ve seen 12 movies.”

“Only 12,” she frowned skeptically and you took the opportunity to go in the kitchen and make popcorn.

“Hey, did you let Lian have speedster piggy back rides,” Tim aka Robin said ducking his head in the kitchen.

“No,” you said quickly running in the living area quickly. “Okay, enough of that. I don’t think her dad would be cool with this,” you said pulling her off of him. She pouted a little.

“Why does it smell like fire,” Cassie asked from the hall and you hurried back in the kitchen to see a flaming bag turning in the microwave. Before you could do it say anything, Bart opened the microwave and tossed the bag into the sink where the sponge lit on fire. Lian shrieked and you jumped up turn on the water to put them both out.

“That popcorn smells ewwie,” Lian noted. You sighed and pinched your brow. This is fine.

“I’ll make more and you go pick out a movie. And nothing else,” you emphasized.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bart said with a salute. Tim winced.

“Sorry, he’s a lot.”

“One minor kitchen fire is not too bad. Have you heard from the mission?” You asked as you cooked the popcorn.

“Not yet. But no news is usually good news,” he reminded you and you nodded. That’s what Roy always said. You grabbed the bag and went in the living room to see an entire hot pink tackle box filled with every kind of hair tie and bows and baubles. Bart was sitting on the floor and Lian was currently tying a bright yellow bow in his huge mass of red hair.

“She wanted to do his hair so I got my stuff,” Cassie said.

“She’s a natural. She doesn’t rip out half as much hair as Cassie,” Bart said with a grin. You sat on the couch near them and started the movie as the popcorn passed around.

Halfway through the movie, Tim’s phone goes off. He looks at it and frowns. “Alright guys, we got to suit up.” They grumble but get up. Bart does a quick shake that reminds you of a dog and all the bows vibrated out of his hair. Lian laughed and tried to catch them as they fell out.

“Lian, give me just a minute to talk to Tim,” you told her and she nodded before putting a red barrette in Cassie’s hair. You walked in the kitchen with Tim.

“Is everything okay? Dick? Roy?” You asked quietly.

“I’m not sure. We’re just being called in. I’ll try and let you know more,” he said. You nodded and hugged your baby brother.

“Be safe out there.”

“Always.”

Lian was sitting on the couch as the cartoon played and she had moved on to putting bows on the fuzzy blanket on the couch. She yawned as she put bows in your hair and you looked at the time. It was probably close to bed time for her.

“Lian, do you want to lay down while watching your movie?”

She yawned again and nodded. “Yeah, dad will be home late again, hu? Work?” She was pretty used to his hero duty.

“Yeah, but I’m here.”

“Yeah, you’re here,” she said before laying on you. You froze for a second before feeling your heart warmed. She rubbed her popcorn greasy face into your shirt before getting comfortable. After a short while she was asleep and you pulled out your phone to take her photo.

You wanted to send Roy the photo but didn’t dare disturb him. You kept worrying about him and Dick and now even Tim as they fought. Why had they needed the back up? Were they hurt? In too deep? You had a hard time doing anything but worry.

Lian turned in her sleep and all but pinned you to the couch with her little fists gripping your shirt. You pulled the blanket over her. You tried to stay awake but once it hit 2 am and you were trapped on a couch with no lights on, you fell asleep.

Around 4 am, the team wandered in the tower slowly. They hushed one another as they saw you and Lian on the couch. Roy came in and stopped to look. He took out his phone and took a bunch of pictures of you both with a smile before he hobbled to the medical bay to be cleaned and patched up.

“Hey,” he whispered while gently tapping your shoulder a little while later. You woke up blinking in the light. “I’m going to carry her to the car. Are you coming?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whispered back. Roy carefully pulled the little girl off of you and she clung to his shirt in sleep. He grabbed his bag of gear as you got up with a stretch. You waved bye to everyone before leaving.

Halfway down the road, Roy turned to you. “She really seemed comfortable on you.”

“Yeah, she climbed up herself. I was a little surprised. I guess I didn’t mess up tonight,” you said with a little self deprecating laugh.

“Nah, you did great. I had to hear all about it from the kid heroes on the way back. The hair bows was genius,” he said. The car quietly pulled in his driveway.

“That was Cassie. And when Lian saw all of Bart’s hair her eyes went wide like a cat at a ball of yarn,” you laughed.

“Yeah, she’s a fan of long red hair. Ask me how I know,” he said shaking his hair and you laughed. Lian moved in her sleep.

“So she ripped out your hair so Bart’s could survive,” you said quietly.

“Something like that. Can you get the door,” he said before scooping Lian out of her car seat. You held the door as he carried her to her room and laid her in her toddler bed that currently had a Superboy blanket. She had just about any hero you could image in some product or another.

Roy met you in the kitchen. “Thanks, you know. For watching her today. I appreciate that,” he said. You tossed him a water bottle.

“Yeah, she’s awesome. We had fun,” you said, leaning on the counter with your elbows. Roy came up behind you and rubbed your shoulders.

“Not everyone is cool with dating a dad so thanks,” he said. You turned your head to look at him.

“Well, they are missing out. Got my own DILF,” you teased.

“Oh god, I’m a DILF,” Roy said with a hint of horror in his voice. “Speaking of ILF... I know someone I’d like to ILF,” he said kissing your neck and pressing himself against your back. His hands moved under your shirt and up to your chest. “Wanna take it to my room?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

#roy harper x reader #arsenal x reader #dc fanfic #batfam #batsis #batsis!reader #arsenal x batsis!reader #roy harper x batsis!reader #Lian harper #titans tower

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godlygreta · 3 years ago

Text

i never stopped loving you | j. kiszka

title | i never stopped loving you

summary | jake and y/n have known each other since grade school, they’ve been neighbors forever. a bit of romance ensues, but ends fairly quickly when complications arise while the boys are touring. a trip home from college ends in a slightly drunk confession.

warnings | some mature themes (bit of sex, but not explicitly), swearing, slight angst

word count | 2.5k+

author’s note | hi! this is the first thing i’ve written for any of the boys, so i hope you enjoy. i’ve written for other bands before, so writing isn’t new to me, but writing for greta is.

“I never stopped loving you.”

It slipped out. It didn’t mean to come out. Jake didn’t necessarily want it to come out. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, right? At the same time, who trusts the words of a drunk person? Usually it’s just brushed off as babbling, but Y/N couldn’t ignore what Jake said. Especially because she couldn’t blame it on not hearing him. There was no music playing outside the bar. The music was faint enough that anything Jake had said was heard.

High school was rough for Y/N with hormones mixed in with academics, horny teenage boys at every turn. Y/N wasn’t even interested in dating, not due to the fact that nobody was necessarily interested in her, but because she was too focused on her studies to even give a damn. School dances were a nice break from academics. There was a shift, though, when one boy in particular would start to really pay attention to her.

Jake Kiszka was charismatic in every sense of the word. Him and his twin brother, Josh, were always the two sweetest, yet most famous troublemakers in all of Frankenmuth High School. It got even worse when their younger brother, Sam, ended up in high school with them as a freshman. Jake had girls wrapped around his finger from the moment he had gotten a haircut. His hair was a lot shorter than before and barely even touched his forehead. Y/N didn’t really give a damn. To her, he was still Jake Kiszka, neighbor.

Their parents were friends and always hungout on the weekends. Y/N’s family had a cabin on the lake which they always vacationed at and occasionally would bring Jake’s family with. One particular summer, they stayed there for a week between the summer of sophomore and junior year. The summer’s were always hot, but this week in particular was hotter than the other summer’s before. “It feels like the Devil’s asshole out here.”

“I know, Mary, but that’s the exact reason we chose to come here this week. The kids can swim in the lake, it’s a lot cooler in the water than on the grass.” Y/N’s dad spoke, returning the conversation from her mother. He gave her a quick kiss on the side of the head and returned to unpacking the car. Y/N and the boys had already gone into the house and picked their rooms. The boys shared one, and Y/N got one of the spare bedrooms.

Dinner was made as soon as everyone was settled in. Everyone sat around the dining table, laughing and eating as they did almost every weekend. “You excited for Junior year, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m sort of nervous about taking the SAT and ACT. I’ve been studying when I’m not working at the shop.” She picked at some asparagus on her plate as she answered Mrs. Kiszka’s question. Jake and Josh weren’t entirely ecstatic about it, it didn’t really matter to either of them. Music was their passion and that was never going to change.

Smores after dinner was a tradition that started when they were all really little, barely old enough to eat them. The fire was lit by Mr. Kiszka and Mr. Y/L/N. Jake, Sam and Josh had always played music while the rest of them made their smores. Y/N always made extras for the boys for when they were done playing music. Whenever they had no idea what to play, Y/N always knew the answer. Running out of songs to play, though, was a rarity in itself. The Kiszka’s knew so much about their sound, nothing was in their way of playing songs that fit it. However, every once in a blue moon they would ask their friend what she would like to hear. “C’mon now. You should know I’m a sucker for The Beatles.”

Y/N could recognize the sound of Blackbird the second it started playing. She had only listened to it eight million times that summer. She hummed lightly along as they played. Everyone clapped as soon as their song was over, the boys immediately delving into their smores. Y/N had finally taken a seat next to Josh when she was finished making their smores for them. Once their parents had gone inside, though, Y/N and the twins dipped into their parents' cooler of beer.

Neither of the sets of parents cared, they knew their kids would be safe and unharmed if they drank at the cabin. Jokes were told and stories of the past school year were discussed, as well as the future. A topic so vast for high schoolers. “I still can’t decide between a lawyer and an art teacher.”

“You’ve always been great at arguing,” Josh joked, “Practically got fuckin’ Lindsey McNeil out of that suspension.”

“It wasn’t fair. All she did was stand up for herself and what she believed in, plus that teacher is fucking creepy and everyone knows it.” Everybody laughed, the beer in everyone’s hands was getting a little warmer with every minute that passed by. Everyone filtered out one by one. Sam went in first, followed by Ronnie (she was slightly upset about coming, having made other plans with friends for the hot weather), and then Josh followed, leaving behind Jake and Y/N.

“Did you want to go inside yet or stay out here for a bit longer?” The silence beforehand hadn’t been awkward for the pair. “Cause I was thinking of going swimming for a bit.”

“I’ll join you, we haven’t swam yet today.”

The sand leading into the lake was met with a bit of rocks. It was picturesque under the moonlight. The pair discarded their clothing, leaving their underwear and got into the water. The coolness of the water sent goosebumps along her skin, leaving no piece without some. Jake followed in behind her, coming up next to her before completely dipping under the water. He popped back up and shook his head.

“You know,” Y/N started, “I think you’d look really good with longer hair.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. You should grow it out.” She swiped his hair out of the way and giggled a bit. “You’ll still never be prettier than I am.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

The rest of the summer followed with light flirting and spending lots of time together. Junior year came around and nothing changed a bit. Prom was spent with the Kiszka family, Josh driving the three of you, as well as Josh’s date. The dance was lame, the songs were overplayed pop music, which Y/N secretly had a bit of a soft spot for. She would never tell that to Jake, though.

The pair ended up back at Y/N’s house, giggling all the way up to her room. He went into the bathroom to take his suit off, using one of Y/N’s hangers to make sure it wouldn’t wrinkle. However, Y/N was still having issues. She couldn’t manage to undo the zipper by herself, waiting for Jake to come back into the room to do it for her. He came back in, saw her still in her dress. “Need my help?”

“My zipper -- I can’t reach it.”

“I can do it,” he whispered, knowing Y/N’s parents were asleep. His hands were warm against her back, undoing her zipper slowly. The moonlight coming in from the window felt like that hot summer night at the cabin. He slid the straps down her shoulders, his mouth slightly agape. How could someone look so beautiful and delicate at the same time?

She turned around, her body facing Jake’s. He stuttered, telling her he could leave and he was honestly about to. Until he felt her hand grab his wrist. “Don’t go.”

He nodded his head, helping her get the rest of the way out of her dress. She stepped closer to him and put her hands on his chest. She could feel how fast his heart was beating. She had a hard time meeting his gaze, nervous of him not feeling the same way she had been. “You looked really good tonight.”

“Me? Everybody was staring at you the whole time, Y/N,” he spoke, one hand finding their way to her waist, the other pulling on her chin to force eye contact. “You looked absolutely breathtaking.”

There was a split second where both of them second guessed themselves. But it was over when Y/N pressed her lips lightly against Jake’s. It was such a feathery light touch, it almost felt like she wasn’t even kissing him. She pulled away slowly, her eyes closed, not really knowing what to do next. She didn’t have to figure it out though, Jake’s lips returned to hers with more pressure.

His hands had found their rightful place on her back, bringing her closer to him. Hers found their way into his hair. It felt so natural - the need for each other grew stronger with each passing minute. His mouth never wanted to leave hers, it felt as though her lips were coated in fucking drugs the way they were so addicting. He couldn’t get enough. “Do you want to..?”

“Yes, please.” It came out so needy - desperate. Y/N didn’t even care about how that presented itself to Jake. She just wanted to be even closer to him than she already was. And she got to be right where she wanted to be.

Her bed was more comfy than Jake had previously remembered. Or maybe that was because they were here under different circumstances, not just studying algebra because Jake wasn’t quite getting it. All he knew was that he wasn’t ever going to forget it. He wanted this moment to replay forever and ever. Not because he was just some horny teenager, but because holy fuck, this had just been some random thought - a daydream, almost. But this was real. This was happening.

A tangled mess they were when climaxing. “I love you,” came out as barely above a whisper. It took Y/N a half of a second to register what he was really saying before it finally hit her. She didn’t feel as if she had to say it back, if anything, he should realize that she loved him too.

“I could honestly stay here forever and stare at you until the end of time.”

“So do it. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

They didn’t though. And it wasn’t that simple. Complications arose after that night. Everything got messy and trying to tie in a relationship while the band was traveling and on the road became increasingly difficult, especially when Y/N went to college.

She came home to Frankenmuth while she was off for the summer. Her mother and father missed her a great deal and the first weekend home was spent in the Kiszka’s backyard, the boys excluded. It was weird to be at their house and not see them littered around anywhere. Ronnie was full of stories though, telling Y/N about previous times the boys have come home from touring and the memories they brought back with him.

It was painful to hear, but she was so incredibly proud of everything they had accomplished and done. Every once in a while, Y/N had checked up on their band's Instagram account. When she was really nervous — having a hard time not worrying about them — she texted Josh or Danny. Neither of them were ever going to say anything to Jake or mention it to Sam.

The two families decided to get together and have dinner at a local bar. The boys were still away, they weren’t scheduled to come back to Michigan for at least another month and a half. Ronnie and Y/N spent most of their time talking about future plans for the upcoming weeks while their parents discuss their weekend plans — what to have for dinner and who’s house to have dinner at. Time had passed quickly and before they knew it, it was 10pm.

The parents had left, leaving Ronnie and Y/N at the bar by themselves. At least, that was until the boys walked in.

Ronnie smiled widely, hugging her brothers but then proceeding to punch them for surprising her and not just telling her. Josh and Danny hugged Y/N first, Sam leading after. Jake didn’t hug Y/N. It stung a bit. It made sense though. The last time they talked — it ended in an argument which was the resulting cause of their breakup.

A few drinks were downed, a couple shots thrown in there as well. Y/N figured it was time to throw the towel in. She couldn’t handle the awkward glances and forced conversation on their part. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and put it on as she said goodbye to everyone. “Boys, lovely to see you again. I’m sure I’ll see you this weekend.”

She wasn’t going to. She was gonna avoid them at all costs. Come up with a lie — say she had the flu or something. Her mother would believe her either way, as well as understand where she was coming from with her avoidance. Her mother was there for her while she cried her eyes out.

She didn’t notice when Jake had followed her out. She didn’t notice him calling her name. The only thing she could notice was the tears falling down her cheeks, wiping them as soon as she felt them.

“I never stopped loving you.”

“When we broke up,” he started. “I was a wreck. I was immature. It could’ve worked out - it would’ve worked out if I wasn’t such a child about everything.”

“Jake —“

“No, Y/N, I need to say this now. I’m a little drunk so I actually have the balls to say everything I want to. It was stupid to break up over something as menial as distance. The things I feel for you are so intense it scares the fuck out of me. I was so afraid of being gone all the time. You deserved someone who could be there to help you study for midterms. I was always in another state and sometimes another country. I wasn’t… there to be able to help you through anything. Everything’s different now, though.”

She sighed, not entirely sure on what to do with the information that was thrown at her. She was sober enough to remember the conversation tomorrow, but not nearly drunk enough to be able to deal with it tonight. “Do you wanna just come home with me? Talk about this tomorrow morning when we’re both sober.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fanfiction #godlygreta writes jake #jake #kiszka #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fic

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starkskypines · 3 years ago

Text

i choose you

pairing: Loki x gn!Reader

summary: You’re hanging out with the Avengers when the game turns into either/or questions and you have to pick between Steve and Loki, but you have the biggest, most secret crush on Loki, so you say Steve. Loki convinces you to change your answer.

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

a/n: I wrote this for day 28 of swoon june: domestic. And this is the most swoon worthy thing i’ve written the entire month lol

***

“Banana pudding or french fries?” Natasha asks.

“French fries,” Tony says immediately. Clint agrees. Loki nods his head in agreement as well.

“Pudding,” you say. Steve hums his agreement.

“Pudding is delightful,” Thor agrees.

“My turn.” Clint grins, and you and Nat share a look. You know what this means. It’s going to be another ridiculous question.

Clint turns his head in your direction. “This one is specifically for y/n.” You don’t know what question he intends to ask, but you can read that teasing glint in his eyes. “Spend the rest of your life with Steve or Loki?”

You laugh. “What? That’s not like the other questions.”

“Yes, it is. You just have to make a choice.”

“Make a choice?” You laugh again. It sounds uncomfortable to your own ears. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Clint retorts. “It’s a simple question. Loki or Steve?”

You glance at Loki and find him still watching you from his place on the chair next to the sofa where you are currently perched on. You flick your gaze to the rest of the Avengers around the room, either on the same sofa as you or one of the other chairs. The movie night turned into truth or dare and then random questions as the night wore on, and now it’s two-thirty in the morning and clearly, your crush on Loki isn’t as hidden as you thought it was.

“I know who’d I choose,” Nat says. “It’s not a hard choice. We’ve all seen Steve’s muscles. Those rock-hard abs.”

“And his chiseled jawline,” Tony adds.

“C’mon, y/n, we all answered the questions. I don’t get why this is such a big deal.” Clint leans forward from the chair diagonally across from you.

You know hesitating isn’t good, but you also know that admitting to your crush on Loki is not good. You don’t want all the teases. You just want the feelings to go away and stop complicating your life.

“The hesitation says a lot.” Tony is staring at you now, and you’ve never been able to hide anything from him. And you’re lucky Nat decided to drink tonight, or she’d be reading all your secrets too.

“Fine. Fine. Cap of course. The whole star-spangled thing is... eye-catching.”

The laughs sound out and Clint smirks. You don’t look at either Steve or Loki as the game continues.

“Alright Thor, what’s your question?” Clint asks, allowing the game to continue, and you’re so grateful. The game goes for another hour, and you find the questions easier when they’re not about Loki and so it’s fun to make fun of the other Avengers and listen to their laughs. It’s so joyous here, and you’re glad to be a part of it.

“Well, I hate to be the responsible adult here, but I’ve got a 7 am meeting, so let’s call it a night.”

“Tony? Responsible?” Nat laughs.

“Once in a lifetime achievement. You’re all lucky to be witnesses.”

The teasing continues as they leave the living room for their floors. You don’t notice you’re following Nat to the kitchen until you’re both putting your glasses in the sink.

Nat nods to you and leans forward. “You can’t fool me.”

You blink. “I’m tired. Talk in the morning?”

“Glad you know I won’t let this drop.” Her eyes soften. “But yes. I will let you sleep first, figure out your story.” She winks.

There’s movement from beside you. and you don’t have to look to know it’s Loki.

“Want me to walk you back to your room, or should Loki do the honors?”

You know you’re blushing. but you look to Loki and then back to Nat and glare at her. “I’ll let you walk me back.”

Loki moves quicker than you’re expecting, stepping toward you with a small smirk on his face, mischief and something softer in his eyes. “Wrong choice, darling.”

And oh, oh, you’re gone. Your breath catches and you don’t really think you can feel your heart anymore and is it possible to be instantly five degrees hotter? It’s his voice that does things to you that should be illegal and the way he moves toward you with such intent, and whatever he asks you know you’ll give it to him.

Your back hits the fridge, and you’re helpless to look away from his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, his chin, his eyes, his lips.

“Want to reconsider your answer to that question and a previous one tonight?”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, throat dry, and the chill of the fridge isn’t enough to cool you off.

“What?” You’re barely capable of coherent thought right now. Loki’s leaning in now and your brain is white noise and is your heart pounding straight out of your chest?

“Me or Steve?” You stare at his lips as they form those words and have to swallow before dragging your gaze back to his eyes, flashing green and entirely serious and oh, oh no, he can’t play with you like this. Doesn’t he know what he does to you?

“What would my answer change?” You aren’t breathing correctly anymore and you don’t know why you don’t just admit that duh, it’s Loki. It’s always Loki because it’s so obvious now as you can hardly control your reactions to him.

“Whether or not I kiss you goodnight.”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth falls open, and your heart stops beating, lungs stop working, brain stops processing.

Nat’s laugh is what brings you out of it. “I think you broke them, Lokes.”

Loki doesn’t take his gaze off you, and that’s what kicks your brain back online. He’s not laughing or smirking. He’s serious. Maybe just to satisfy his curiosity, but you know how few in his life actually choose him and you want him to know that you do. You choose him. Over everyone.

You bite your lip a second before taking a breath and answering.

“Of course it’s you. Didn’t want to admit it because of all the teasing so I said Steve. But it’s been you for a while now.” You look away and shrug, not sure you want to see the rest of his reaction as his expression didn’t change as you spoke.

“Of course?” And he sounds confused so you meet his gaze now.

“Wouldn't seriously choose anyone else.” You mumble out, embarrassed by it because Nat is still there.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Loki holds out his hand. It’s instinct to grab his hand, and it’s warm and calloused yet soft all at once, a contradiction just like him. And when Loki pulls you to his side and you can feel his body against yours, your brain blanks out again.

It’s a silent walk back to your door, and you wonder what Loki thinks of you now, but it’s three-thirty in the morning and you don’t quite care anymore so you keep his hand in yours as you step from his side to punch in your door code. (It helps you sleep better to have a code on your locked door, despite knowing that you are beyond safe in the Avengers tower.)

“Goodnight, darling.” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the already warm skin, his mouth warm against your hand and it’s a moment that should remain unbroken forever and it seems to go on for just that long, but Loki raises his eyes to meet yours and then it’s over and his hand is slipping from yours and you step forward, not quite sure what you’re doing but knowing you don’t want this to be over. But Loki knows better than you what you want and as your fingers touch his face and your palms slide along his cheeks he’s already in your personal space with his face inches from yours.

“You’re tired, love.” And you know he’s right. You know that you’re only doing this because you don’t want this to go away in the morning, not because you’re ready. You’re not one to rush into things. And you definitely don’t want to rush this if tomorrow you wake up and it’s still here and Loki is still serious.

“You’ll be here in the morning?” you ask.

“You choose me. I’ll choose you.” His breath is warm against your cheek, and you sag forward into him letting your hands fall from his face and your head fall to his chest.

“You don’t know–”

“What that means.” He finishes your sentence and places a hand under your chin and tilts your face up so that he can look at you. “I hope you know what your words mean and that you don’t use them in vain because I would never lie to you.”

He’s serious, his words fanning across your cheek. And you swallow, bite your lip to keep from saying something unintelligible. You just nod quickly over and over again.

“The morning then.” He smiles, soft and warm, and leans down to press a kiss against your forehead. “Sleep now.”

He steps away, and you feel the absence of his touch down to your very soul. But it’s okay because you’ll see him in the morning. So you turn and you open your door and you don’t look back. For this to work, there has to be trust. And you trust that these late-night words and touches will mean so much more in the morning.

***

The morning comes, and Loki finds you after breakfast right as Steve invites you on his morning run. Sometimes you join him, depending on how you’re feeling, and after staying up so late last night you’re not really feeling it, but Steve wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t try to encourage you to go running with him, listing the benefits of running. And you know he’s right, that’s usually why you give in, and this morning you’re on the verge of giving in when Loki walks in and wraps his arms around you.

His arms slide around you, and the warmth of his body boils you alive. You’re blushing, and it only gets worse when you meet Steve's eyes and he raises a brow.

Loki rests his head on your shoulder, his dark hair tickling your neck. “Good morning, darling.”

His voice is still raspy from sleep, and you turn and his grip tightens and you’re so not okay right now but yep, yep, he’s still in his pajama top and bottoms with his sleep mussed hair and holy hotness, did he even brush it or did he just finger comb it, and oh, how you wish that it could be your fingers running through his dark hair. It has to be soft right? Oh, please let it be soft.

“I'll see you for our run tomorrow,” Steve promises and leaves the kitchen, and you’ve already forgotten what Steve was talking about, but you manage a nod and that’s all.

“You’re tense,” Loki muses.

“You–” You clear your throat. “You have your arms around me.”

Loki pulls away, leaving you feeling cold. He comes to stand in front of you. “I thought we’d agreed to do this.”

“Do what?” You shake your head. “I got like four hours of sleep. I don't really remember everything that was said.” You bite your lip as you move past him. That’s not entirely true because you remember most everything that was done and said by Loki, but you’re not sure of the meaning behind any of it.

“Oh.”

You turn back around once you’ve poured yourself a glass of water for your suddenly dry throat. Loki looks contemplative and a bit discouraged.

Loki looks up at you with a sudden grin. “Well, you said you’d choose me over Steve. Every time.”

You know you’re blushing again, and it’s ridiculous but all you can answer is, “Yes, that’s true.”

“And then I said I choose you. And that is still true.”

“Right.” You open and close your mouth for a moment, looking for the words. “And that means what exactly?” You take a breath. “Because for me it means that like I...I want to date...you.” You watch his reaction, and his smirk has you burying your face in your hands with a groan.

“Quite eloquent.” He comes up beside you and takes hold of your hand, the warmth of the contact shooting through you and causing you to raise your head. “But I appreciate the honesty.” He brings your hand to his lips and then releases it and steps away one step. He leans on the counter and looks up at you, blue eyes now serious. “I would like to woo you. make you mine. I believe you midgardians do call it dating.” He smiles.

You nod and proceed to stumble over your words. “Yeah, no, yeah, that, uh, is good.”

Loki laughs and turns his head away as he moves into a standing position.

You know your face must be redder than Thor’s cape at this point, and you feel like you’ve been laying out in the sun for far too long but you’re overjoyed too. Loki wants to date you. Last night wasn’t some sleep-deprived misunderstanding. You’re on the same page.

“So like if we went out for hotdogs in Central Park and ice cream, that’d be our first date?”

Loki tilts his head with a questioning smile. “You really want our first date to be disgusting hot dogs from an unsanitary street merchant?”

You laugh because you’re nervous. “No. I know you don’t like hotdogs. I know that. I just…” You take a deep breath. “I don't need anything fancy. I don't want anything fancy. I…” And your smile goes soft. “I just want to spend time with you. Actually, I’d be more fine with ordering in hibachi and turning on the PS4 and crushing you at Star Wars Battlefront, and then going out for ice cream. Bad or awkward things tend to happen when I go out with the Avengers.”

Loki laughs. “You do seem to be our bad luck charm.”

“Right, and I don't want to mess up our first date. So let’s stay in.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Loki smiles, and your heart flutters in your chest. He's still in his pajamas just as relaxed as can be in the kitchen as the two of you plan your date, and it's unbelievable in a sense that last night’s game turned into this.

“I should go get dressed.” He moves forward. “Is it frowned upon to kiss on the first date?”

You shake your head, and he takes a step closer.

“Right, and the date begins when exactly?” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes and that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.

“Now,” you say, blinking up at him.

He smiles, slow and sexy, and you find yourself leaning toward him. He steps close, a hand on your waist.

“I'm going to kiss you now.”

“Yep.”

He dips his head down and his hand comes up and tilts your chin up. His lips are warm against yours and you melt against him. He slides his hand from your chin to your neck before sliding around to your shoulder, providing his arm as a cushion for your head. It’s the softest, most gentlest kiss, and you never want it to end but end it must as all good things do.

Loki pulls away with a small soft smile on his lips and you lean up and kiss him again, just a simple press of the lips to his. He grins and laughs. And you laugh too, staring into his blue eyes and hoping that that kind of a kiss will happen a hundred times again. You’ll never tire of it, never tire of Loki. And you get the feeling he feels the same about you.

#swoonjune2021 #day 28 #reader fic #loki x reader #domestic fluff #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x gn!reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #avengers #loki fic #mcu fic #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson oneshot

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something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

Text

The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds smut #smut

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

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I like your posts, it's always cool. May i ask a yandere concept between an innocent, protected princess and a prince who obsessed with her from the first time they met, and force against her will. Thanks so much, love your writing :3

Thanks, anon, that means a lot <3 If you haven't noticed, I am oBseSSed with royalty stuff so I rlly enjoyed writing this. It's slightly different tho, but the idea is there.

Title: We all fall down

tw: female reader, non - consensual touching, obsessive behavior, coercion, implied forced marriage, war mention, abuse of power

It was cold when you woke up, terribly so. The room was spacious enough, there was bright sunlight coming from all four windows on each wall and you were sure that your sheets were warm and puffy even without looking down at them, yet it still felt freezing. You soon realized the place wasn’t simply cold, it was different too. It looked nothing like your own room back at the Southern Palace with its countless colourful pictures, books shattered all over the ground and a fireplace just across the queen – sized bed. Before you had a chance to sigh in annoyance, a quick glance to the other side reminded you of the bigger problem. Him.

“Good morning, princess.” The man greeted you cheerfully, his voice still deep and husky from the early hour. He was laying against the wooden doorframe, the sly smirk you had grown to hate over the years once again adorning his red lips. You stared at him for a moment, then rubbed your eyes to chase the fatigue away, fruitlessly so. You were too tired and sleep – deprived to play – pretend, which of course didn’t go unnoticed by the nobleman.

“You don’t look too well, princess.” He teased with a cheeky grin and walked towards the bed, stopping just before his legs hit the edge of the frame. You puffed softly, but remained quiet just so you wouldn’t have to answer him just yet. “And look at your state, darling…” The heir continued, clicking his tongue in a mocking “tsk, tsk,tsk”. “Your nightgown is a mess, I can see all of your beautiful curves.” The heir paused to lick his lips in a disgusting, suggestive way, and you had to repress the need to vomit all over the beautiful yellow sheets. “In our kingdom such appearance counts as an invitation, did you know that?” He added, smiling sharply, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, satisfied at the way his words made you embarrassed, flustered and jumpy so early in the morning.

“Your Highness, I would like to properly remind you that it was you who forced me to drink and dance all night.” You responded heatedly, all while fixing the straps of your silky dress to at least cover your cleavage. “You wouldn’t let go of my hand for a second. It’s your fault that I look like this.” You remarked, slightly offended by the man’s jokes, despite being used to his terrible humor after all those long years of shared parties and celebrations.

“If that is really so, my lady, please let me make it up to you.” The prince replied in the same smooth, carefree voice of his, the one he used before while talking to the maids and the peasant girls he wanted to bed. It made you sick to think of yourself as just another of his conquests, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth – you couldn’t stand the dark – haired male, his arrogance and absolute ignorance. “Join me for breakfast and I shall have our best cook serve your favorite meal.” The heir announced and winked at you before turning on his heels and finally leaving the room without hearing whether you agreed to his offer or not. You didn’t even have the chance to ask him how he knew what your favorite dish was or why he entered your room without permission, such a lack of manners was unsuited for a soon-to-be king. Perhaps you could use his inconsiderate behavior as an excuse to stay in bed until lunch but deep down you knew it was pointless. The egotistic little bastard knew you had no choice since you two had a lot to discuss.

---

The breakfast, if not anything else, was rich and delicious, each bite tasty and mouth – watering. The sweet aroma of cinnamon tea, vanilla and powdered sugar filled your senses with ease and a little bit of nostalgia for your childhood. The hardest part was yet to come, you wanted to deal with it fast and go home as soon as possible. As for Arthur, it was the first time you saw him serious with his brows arched and his thoughts all over the place. The uneasiness came back with full force.

“I think you know what we want, princess.” The male declared sternly after looking at the map for a while. His eyes were blue and clear, piercing in the way they were focused on you and you alone with no one else in the hall to act as a barrier between you and the monster. You understood why it had to be only you two, but these deals were always an open secret in both kingdoms, so there weren’t many reasons to keep the tradition going. “We want our territory back. We want you to surrender.” The heir hissed eerily under his breath, his pupils fixed on your frame, burning the skin underneath the thick layer of rough fabric.

You didn’t know how to respond to this – the dynasty’s requests had always been ridiculous and far – fetched, but never as impossible as this one. Yes, your land used to belong to the East centuries ago, but after several long, bloody, sacrificial wars where many of your men lost their lives, it was won fair and square. Now all your subjects lived there happily and freely, rightfully so.

“Your Majesty, please don’t dwell on the past. It will never come back.” You responded shortly after, laughing nervously at the end, hoping that would be enough for Arthur to drop the subject. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

“Is that so, dearest? You have two weeks then.” The prince said coldly, narrowing his eyes like a fox. You opened your mouth to speak but quickly got cut off. “Prepare your troops, train the soldiers, announce the incoming war to your people.” The man chuckled darkly and threw the map all the way across the room. “You better get ready for a thunderstorm.” He added just to mess with you some more, just to see your face turn white from the shock and the panic.

“You can’t do that!” You shouted out suddenly and stood up from your chair, feeling cornered and suffocated. You hated the prince’s constant teasing and flirty remarks but you would have never guess him to be a cold-blooded conqueror. “This is too cruel even for you!” You screamed, the tears already blooming down your cheeks, hot and wet. Arthur spared you one condescending look before moving closer and trapping your body against the table, towering over you both physically and metaphorically, as if saying “Let’s see who has the stronger mind.”

“I will get what I want no matter the cost and there is little you can do to stop me, princess.” The heir pronounced slowly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his hard gaze, full of intense yet unreadable emotion. There was nothing left of the sly cheerful boy standing against your doorframe, teasing you about meaningless little things, and you almost missed him now. “But what you can do is stop the needless violence and bloodshed, Y/N.” You despised the way your eyes lit up at his words, but, as always, your duty was above your comfort and happiness. “What can I do?” You uttered quietly, a part of you too scared to hear the answer, the other anticipating it.

“Marry me.” The prince stated in a deep patronizing voice. His eyes were dark and sharp, just like before, and there wasn’t a trace of his usual gleeful smile. He grabbed your wrists in a painful grip and pulled them up, holding them against his broad shoulders. “We can unite the kingdoms and live our Happily Ever After. No one has to die.” The man whispered surprisingly softly, his chest heaving with each passing breath. “I can make you happy, dearest.”

You gasped in shock as soon as the proposal left his lips. Every fiber in your body was frozen still, your whole being shaken up by the unexpected offer.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You asked frantically, squirming to loosen up his grasp on your hands just to feel it tighten up even more. This was going to bruise for sure. “Isn’t it obvious?” The noble exhaled slowly, staring at you, trying desperately to find the compassion and affection he hoped you had grown to hold for him over the years. His heart broke once he realized there wasn’t any, but it didn’t matter. Feelings could change in a matter of minutes.

“I’ve loved you since day one, my princess.” His attention drifted to your open mouth, especially your soft full lips. Oh, how much he dreamt of taking you and relishing in the whines and moans you would surely let out once he decided to claim you as his own. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.” The heir confessed, his face moving closer and closer to your own, forcing you to arch your back more and more until it hit the table. Before you knew it, he was pinning you to the hard wooden surface, caging you in, kissing you violently, furiously. You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t say no.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yancore #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere concept

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aizawaorkuroo · 4 years ago

Text

Seek the Light

Ship: Ukai Keishin x f!reader

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 8.4K

Summary: Back home after losing your job, you wander into a convenience store not realizing you would see a familiar face.

Warnings: Young Ukai’s a bitch, Language, Biting, Vaginal Fingering, Size Kink (I know this man has a bick dick I know he does), Overstimulation, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Dom!Ukai

AN: first haikyuu fic haha and first time writing ukai so im still figuring it out! This one got away from me gsfda and the conflict resolved easily cause its my fic and i make the rules tgerfw

________________________

The dipping summer sun casts shadows across the buildings, while painting the clouds a pretty gold. Memories of childhood and youth flood into you, creating a fondness in your heart. Yes, Miyagi was nice. It would be nicer if you didn’t have to move back home after losing your job in Tokyo. You can tell yourself it’s temporary all you want, but it’s embarrassing. Failing is embarrassing.

You sigh, realizing you should probably head back home before it gets too dark. Despite the setting sun, the air has yet to cool off, and you find that your walk has left your throat parched. You glance around, smiling as you spot a convenience store. Nice.

You smile as the air conditioning hits your skin. You make a beeline for a bottled tea, already excited for the refreshing taste. You hum happily as your eyes tilt up to the man behind the register. His eyes are glued to an issue of something, and a cigarette dangles from his lips. Ukai Keishin.

You feel your heart stutter as you watch your best friend from high school read. His hair is long and blonde now, and it just makes sense. He’s handsome, you realize. You always thought he was cute in high school, but he’s a man now.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, drawing the gaze of the man sitting behind the counter. His eyes widen, recognition clear as day in them.

“Y/N?” His voice is unusually quiet, and his eyes bore into yours, as if you would disappear again if he looked away. Guilt swells uncomfortably in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to him in years. You moved away, and you lost touch with your high school friends, including him. Especially him. He slowly stands to look at you, putting what he was reading down and shoving his cigarette into an ashtray.

Yes, you had been gone for awhile, and yes, the two of you hadn’t talked. But you were both here now, and a second chance has been given to you, wrapped up like a present in the form of a stunned employee at a convenience store.

“Ukai! I forgot this was your mom’s place!” you yell excitedly, rushing behind the counter to trap him in a tight hug. He huffs against you, tensing, before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His words stir something hot and sticky in you, and you push away from him, sheepishly smiling.

“I lost my job and couldn’t find another one in time, and uh, here I am.” Your nose scrunches up at the thought of your tiny, Tokyo apartment that you would never return to.

“No shit, huh? Are you back with your parents?” Your shoulders sag and you nod, pursing your lips.

“Yea, but what have you been up to?” you ask, eager to learn more about your old friend.

“Y’know, working here, hanging out with Shimada and Takinoue. I’ve also been coaching Karasuno’s volleyball team. They’ll sometimes stop by.”

“Oh that’s absolutely perfect,” you laugh. “My volleyball boys never grew up, huh?” He rolls his eyes at you, crossing his arms in feigned annoyance. You hold your hands up in peace, trying to suppress the giggle that’s bubbling in your chest.

“Well, you clearly grew up,” you offer, letting your eyes trail over him. His eyes widen again, and a faint blush covers his cheeks, so soft you almost don’t notice it. “But you’re still reading the same shit.” He lightly punches your arm, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Anyways, the four of us should get dinner sometime.” You cock your head to the side, trying to gauge his reaction. He snorts and rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile on his face. That's promising, you muse to yourself.

“Yea, that sounds good. And I’m sure Shimada and Takinoue will say yes. I can text you when we’re able to.” He pauses, and his eyes drop to the ground. Your stomach twists into knots as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “Is your number still the same?” It’s an innocent question, and yet you feel like the floor has dropped from beneath you, leaving you unbalanced.

“Uh, yeah,” you murmur, feeling guilty when he nods and presses his lips into a thin line.

“It was good seeing you, Y/N. I’ll text you.” You nod, slowly backing up to the door. You give him a small wave before pushing the door open, stepping back out into the warm air. Your body moves on autopilot while your brain goes into overdrive as you ponder how you can properly mend the bridge between you two.

It’s only when you’re halfway home that you realize you forgot your tea.

________________________

When Ukai texts you, you can’t help but to cringe at the past messages that were left unanswered. Random little texts, asking about your day, how’s Tokyo, updating you on everyone back home. You had meant to answer them, but you just couldn’t. You could pinpoint the moment you stopped answering his messages, and you shudder, remembering how harsh he had sounded over the phone. Not that you had been any kinder. After that night, his texts trickled in slower and slower, until they ended completely.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes. But you’re back now, and he’s texting you again. You blink your eyes open, rereading his message.

Hey! How does Saturday at 8 work?

Taking a shaky breath you quickly type out a response that you hope isn’t too eager.

That sounds great! Is that one place with the great hiyashi chuka place still open?

The four of you used to eat there in the summertime, feasting on cold ramen and an assortment of toppings. Takinoue used to flirt with the waitress, who remained unimpressed throughout the years. You smile fondly at the memory, excited to see everyone again. Your phone vibrates, pulling you from your thoughts.

Yea and it’s still the only hiyashi chuka place in town

You hum at his message, thinking of how long the four of you used to wait while the summer sun blazed down, and sometimes Kimi would go with you. She had a massive crush on Shimada, one that left her helpless to your and Takinoue’s teasing. Your phone buzzes again, and you look down, slightly surprised at the second message.

I’m excited to see you again.

That was promising indeed.

And yet you can’t help the way butterflies terrorize your stomach as you stand outside the old restaurant. Part of you wants to turn around and walk home; another part of you wants to throw up. You inhale sharply, steeling yourself, and you walk through the door.

It’s just like you remember, and you feel more at ease. You know this place, and these are your friends. There was no reason to worry. But still…

Your eyes flash across the room, before zeroing in on your usual table. You grin widely at Takinoue who is waving you down. Shimada sits next to him, smiling softly as you approach. Immediately, Takinoue gives you a bear hug, making you giggle.

“It’s been way too long,” he whines before letting you go. Shimada rolls his eyes, offering you a small wave. You slip into the empty seat next to Ukai, greeting him quietly. He nods, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The nerves that had been eating away at you dissipate immediately. The conversation flows easy, as if you never left. And when the hiyashi chuka is brought out, your mouth waters just like it used to.

“I’m telling you, it’s not as good anywhere else,” you bemoan. Shimada laughs at that, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I think that’s nostalgia talking.” You stick your tongue out before shoveling noodles back into your mouth. Ukai snorts, before taking a sip of his beer. Something warm and soft builds up in your heart, spilling out into your entire body.

Happily full of noodles, you settle back against your chair, trying to ignore the way Ukai’s arm rests against the back of your chair. His touch is feather light, but the warmth seeps into you. You missed this, you missed this, you missed him.

When the four of you are standing outside, you shift on your feet, not wanting to have to say goodbye again.

“We should get drinks sometime,” you say to no one in particular. Takinoue slings an arm over your shoulder and his grin is so wide that alone almost makes you laugh.

“Ah yeah! Now you’re talking, Y/N!”

“That is something we can all do together now,” Ukai mumbles, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket.

“Then it’s settled,” you chirp happily, “We’ll meet up for drinks next weekend, if that’s okay with you guys.” Ukai’s eyebrows pinch together in thought, and he slowly nods.

“That should work.” You pull away from Takinoue, choosing to wrap an arm around Ukai’s waist, and pulling yourself flush against him.

“Perfect! It’ll be nice to get out of the house before I move into my new apartment.” Ukai rolls his eyes, but drapes his arm across your shoulders anyways. You try not to notice the way his thumb lightly strokes your arm.

________________________

The lights in the bar are dim, and you’re sipping on a lemon sour, nestled into the booth next to Ukai. Beers litter the table, as well as small dishes of food, and some shots you all have yet to drink. Takinoue’s cackle barrels through the air as you offer up another idea.

“No, I’m serious! We could all get dinner! I’m sure my parents would be happy to see you guys again.” Ukai scoffs, crossing his arms and fixing you with a pointed look.

“Please, your parents hate us,” he grumbles. A laugh bubbles through you, and you shake your head.

“They did not!” you promise, but your words sound hollow even to yourself.

Takinoue’s eyebrow quirks up in disbelief. Your lips twist into a grimace, memories of your parents looking tired whenever the boys dropped you off at home. “Okay, maybe they did, but ONLY when my grades would start slipping.” Shimada nods at your words.

“Yea, that sounds right,” he says solemnly. You pout at his calm and unsurprised tone.

“I promise they loved you guys. Just like I know your granddad loved me,” you giggle, poking at Ukai’s side. He rolls his eyes, and he downs his shot.

“Please, like that man likes anyone,” he grumbles. You stick your tongue out at him, and punch his arm lightly.

“Alright, but I got you through high school, so he has to like me” you counter, mouth twisting into a smirk. Ukai glares at you, memories of late night study sessions, and rushed homework help before class flood his mind. His shoulders sag, and he lets out a sigh.

“That’s fair I guess. Gotta piss. I’ll be back.” He pushes out of the booth, leaving you with Takinoue and Shimada. Shimada smiles softly, before fixing his gaze on you.

“Kimi was in Tokyo too, right? Have you seen her at all?” he asks. You grin, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yea, we actually got lunch the day before I moved.” You pause, eyeing him carefully before continuing. “Shimada, did you know she had the biggest crush on you in high school?” He blushes a bright crimson, choking on his drink as Takinoue cackles.

“Yea, dumbass. It was obvious.” Shimada glares at him, nursing his beer.

“Well, I clearly didn’t know. And no one thought to tell me?” You shrugged, shooting him an apologetic smile. Takinoue punches him arm affectionately, before his eyes settle on you, full of humor and mirth.

“Speaking of crushes, I was wondering how Ukai would be since you got back,” Takinoue laughs.

“What?” Despite the drinks you’ve had, you feel sober, something cold slinking down your back.

“He was head over heels for you back in the day,” Takinoue’s laughs die down, but he doesn’t seem to notice the way you freeze. Shimada, on the other hand, does, and he cocks his head to the side, monitoring your response.

You sputter, words locked in your throat. What they hopefully don’t know is that you had a massive crush on him too, and it’s only resurfaced violently since seeing him again. Even after what had happened. And yet that cold feeling heats up into something syrupy in the pit of your stomach.

“Well that’s news to me,” you say softly. “Guess I fucked it all up, huh?” Shimada and Takinoue exchange a glance, and you’re sure one of them is gonna say something, but when Ukai slips back into the booth that door shuts, locking their words on the other side.

“What’d you fuck up?” he asks, taking a swig of the beer he had left on the table.

“Ah you know, the usual. My life in Tokyo. And now I’m back with my parents. I did find a job though.” Shimada’s brows furrow, but he says nothing. Ukai hums, his thigh jostling against yours.

“Aren't you at your new place yet?” Your face twists in annoyance, and your head hits the back of the booth.

“I’m gonna have to stay with my parents for a few more days because a pipe apparently burst in my apartment. But I’m going to lose it. I can’t live with them anymore. Not at my age…” you trail off, lost in your thoughts.

“Stay with me. Until you can move in.”

Ukai’s voice cuts through the noisy bar, and you open your mouth stupidly, no words coming out. He stares back at you, making the butterflies that had been dormant for awhile snap back to life inside of you. He scratches at the side of his face, making pathetic attempts to backtrack. “I mean you don’t have to, and I won’t be there for a bit cause of training camp-”

“No, that sounds good.” You nod at him, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Yea, that sounds good.” His eyes lock onto yours, something dark and undefinable in them. Neither of you notice the coy look Shimada and Takinoue share.

________________________

The hot water streams around you, and you shut your eyes, relishing the way it feels on your skin. You had a long day at your new job, and the approaching weekend was the only thing keeping you going. Well, that and the fact that you were currently in Ukai’s shower.

He had been kind enough to offer you a place to stay, and already your thoughts are starting to drift to darker places. You had harbored a crush on him when you were younger, but you haven’t seen him in years. And yet the way he looked at you made your stomach drop.

You turn the water off, the cold air plucking at your skin and making you shiver. You wrap a towel around yourself, and dry off quickly, trying to forget about the ache in between your legs. It doesn’t work, but you pull on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt anyways. You could at least pretend it worked.

Ukai’s apartment was exactly what you expected. The walls were littered with posters, books lay all over the ground, and there was a volleyball by the TV. He had rubbed the back of his neck, almost embarrassed when you first got there.

“It’s, uh, not much. Probably should’ve thought about that before I offered, but make yourself at home,” he mutters.

You had reassured him it was more than enough. You were just grateful to be out of your parents' house. You pad over to his spot near the tv, kneeling next to him. He eyes you from his peripheral, not looking directly at you. Nonetheless, it makes you shiver.

“Where should I sleep?” you ask, playing with the hem of his shirt. He nods his head back to the bed, and you flush.

“I can’t take your bed,” you sputter, stomach flipping. He rolls his eyes, a sharp smirk pulling at his lips.

“I gotta leave in the middle of the fucking night for training camp, remember? Take the bed.” His tone leaves no room for any argument, and you nod shyly, before shuffling over to his bed. He refocuses on the game he was watching as you pull the covers around you.

But you can’t sleep. Not when Ukai is so close to you. You flip onto your stomach and huff. He glances at you from over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. He shifts to the side, allowing you to watch the game from your vantage point.

You recognize the Karasuno uniforms, and something syrupy and nostalgic floods your veins. This must be the new team. The two of you stay quiet, the two of you lost in your own thoughts.

It’s only when the noise from the TV stops that you’re jolted back to reality. Ukai’s hand grips the remote tightly, face screwed up unpleasantly.

“Why did you stop talking to me?”

The words ring around his apartment, crystalizing into the air, becoming frigid and uncomfortable. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting your head rest against his pillow. When you open them again, he’s turned towards you, brows pinched and mouth twisted into a grimace.

“I didn’t-” you cut yourself off, pushing yourself up to your knees. “I didn’t mean to.” You hold a hand up to him, stopping his oncoming argument. “I wanted to, and I wanted to pretend like everything was okay, but how could I?” His frown deepens, but he stays silent, memories seeping uncomfortably into the air.

“Keishin,” you hissed into the phone. “Let it go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? How could you be so stupid?” Your stomach drops at his words, but more than anything, you’re upset.

“I am not the stupid one. I’m the one who made it out of Miyagi. I’m the one who’s going to college.” You hear him inhale sharply, and you can practically imagine the way his eyes are narrowed right now.

“Right, right, right. And you’re also the one who’s sleeping with some asshole, who is way too old for you, and he’s just gonna forget you once he’s bored! If that’s not what a stupid little girl does, you tell me what it is! I’m trying to watch out for you!” he practically yells. You feel the oncoming tears sting the back of your eyes, but there’s something red-hot pushing you forward.

“Fuck you, Ukai. I actually found someone who likes me for once, you have to ruin it. I’m not a kid. You don’t know shit about my life here, and you hate it. If you cared so much, you could’ve asked me to stay. Fuck you.” He swears angrily at you, before the line drops. You stare at your phone, waves of nausea passing over you.

A week later he sends you a text, complaining about his grandfather, and telling you about something stupid Takinoue did. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His texts eventually slowed down, until he didn’t text you at all.

You shudder slightly at the memory, letting your eyes drop to the floor.

“You acted like nothing had happened, but I was still mad, and by the time I had calmed down, I thought you would hate me for not talking to you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, chewing on your lip. “And you were right by the way, about that guy,” you spit out. “The second someone prettier came along, he dropped me.”

When you flick your eyes up, Ukai’s jaw is tense, his brows furrowed. You dig your nails into your arm, inhaling sharply.

“Fuck, I wish I had been wrong,” he seethes. Your eyes widen, not expecting him to say that. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what you had expected him to say. “You deserve the world, Y/N. More than that piece of shit. More than Miyagi.” His words are colored with bitterness that makes your stomach curdle.

“That’s why I could never ask you to stay. You were supposed to get out of here.” Ukai’s gaze bores into you, the intensity of it giving you whiplash. Your heart melts at his words, and you can’t help but to feel regret for not trying to work things out back in the day.

“And I ended up back here anyways,” you mutter.

“Well, Miyagi has some perks,” he laughs, an easy smirk tugging at his mouth. You cock your head to the side, snorting in disbelief.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“It’s got you now,” Ukai says lazily, while stretching his arms above his head.

Your heart swells in your chest, and you lunge towards him, wrapping your arms around him. He’s tense beneath you, but relaxes under your soft touches.

“I missed you, Kei,” you say gently. His arms drop to hold you to him, eyes closing as he basks in your attention.

“I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry I tried to pretend like nothing happened. I’m pissed that you weren’t in my life, but that was my fault. And now that you’re here...don’t think you’re escaping that easy again.” You nod, and something hot stings the back of your eyes.

“I’m not,” you say gently. “I’m not gonna disappear again. I promise. You’re my best friend, Keishin. I missed you.”

“Okay. Now get some sleep.” His arms loosen around you, and you slump away from him. As you shift back into the bed, Ukai faces the TV, playing it and lowering the volume until it’s just white noise to your sleepy mind. With that, you lie down again, letting your eyes shut and the warmth of sleep overtake you.

Ukai is drawn back into the game, but your words linger in the air. You’re my best friend, Keishin. I missed you. He glances back at you, bitterness eating away at his stomach. He wants to be more than just your best friend.

He fixes his gaze on the TV, trying to shove those thoughts somewhere deep and dark. Eventually, when he looks at the time, he scowls realizing he’s gotta head out now. Letting out a sigh, he turns to face you again.

His heart tugs at how you’re curled up in his bed so sweetly. Guilt settles in his stomach at the thought of waking you at this hour, but he had to make sure you would be okay. His hand hovers above your shoulder, and he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. You belong here. With him. He shakes his head, banishing the thought. Ukai gently shakes you, watching as you rub your eyes and blink sluggishly at him.

“Sorry to wake you, but I’m heading out for the camp now. The keys are on the counter. Stay as long as you need to, just make sure to lock up.” You hum at his words, nestling back into his pillow and shutting your eyes.

“Okay, Keishin. Love you. Have fun,” you murmur, before drifting back to sleep. He inhales sharply, eyes boring into your sleeping face. He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. You probably wouldn’t even remember you said that when you woke up. And yet…

Ukai shifts on his knees closer to your sleeping form. He ducks down, letting his lips hover over your forehead. He gently kisses your temple, while simultaneously trying to squash the warm feelings that flow through him. He pulls away quickly, the small peck only lasting a second or two, but his lips burn now, and all he wants to do is curl around you and hold you in his arms.

The thought rushes through him like cold water, and he straightens away from you, trying to ignore the way his heart thuds. Ukai’s lips twist into a frown, and he rises, grabbing his bag and quietly walking out the door.

________________________

The next few days are quiet as you go to work. It feels weird to stay at Ukai’s by yourself, but you have to admit that a weight has been lifted since the first night. It was like you could finally move forward in your friendship, the guilt evaporating and letting you fall back into a normal crush.

The evening you’re able to move into your apartment, it’s windier than you thought it would be. You didn’t mean to steal one of his hoodies, but you know he has a few pairs of the orange one. You had seen them in his closet. You slip the orange hoodie on, clutching the fabric to you. It’s warm, enough to protect you from the unusually powerful wind. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath; it smells like him. The thought makes you shudder.

You keep the hoodie on, promising to leave it in Ukai's apartment when you make your last trip in between. But when the moment comes, you can’t bring yourself to take the garment off. When you slip into bed in an unfamiliar place that night, his hoodie brings you comfort. As your eyes shut, you promised that you would return it the next day, when he texted you for his key.

Except you didn’t. You held onto his hoodie for two weeks. By the time you return it, it has already stopped smelling like him. And now, Ukai’s blinking at you from the doorframe of his apartment, confusion pulling at his eyebrows.

His hair is wet, hanging limply against his head, his normal headband nowhere to be seen. A towel hangs around his neck, and there’s an unlit cigarette in between his lips. You blink up at him blankly, trying to resist the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He cocks his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face curiously.

“I, um, came to drop this off.” You hold his hoodie to your chest, clutching it tightly in your hands. “But I probably should’ve told you I was coming.” His gaze is glued to the garment your holding, and the silence hangs in between you. Ukai flicks his eyes back to yours, something deep and dark brewing in them. You shift nervously under his gaze, opening your mouth as you hesitantly explain yourself.

“I borrowed it. When I was staying here. Just took me a while to drop it back off,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed.

“Keep it.” His voice is warm and steady in the air, making your spine tingle. Your hands drop from your chest, hoodie still clenched tightly.

“Oh. Okay.” Your mouth feels heavy, the words sticking to your tongue like molasses. “I guess I’ll head home. Thanks.” You start to turn away, when his hand shoots out, latching onto your wrist.

“You just got here.” His touch stings you, burning into your skin in a way that makes you crave more. You slowly, and weakly, you nod at him, letting him guide you inside his apartment.

“So you borrowed my hoodie, huh?” He smirks at you, eyes gleaming at the way you nervously sit at the edge of his futon.

“Yea, I was running out the door and it was colder than I thought, so I just grabbed it.” Your hands grip the fabric tightly, before you put the hoodie on the bed next to you. Ukai cocks his head to the side, his sharp smirk never leaving his face. “But it took me a while to return because, well…” He flops down onto the ground in front of you, resting his chin in his hand.

“Because it smelled like you,” you mumble, feeling butterflies slip into your veins. Ukai’s eyes widen for a split second, and he plucks the unlit cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the side.

“Huh, no shit.” His words are colored in disbelief, but his gaze is unwavering, sending a small shiver down your spine. He shifts forward, pushing into your personal space until his face is right in front of yours.

“If I’m reading this wrong, you gotta let me know.” The frail dam that had been holding your emotions in place splinters, leaving your mind reeling. But one thing was sure: it was impossible to deny how you felt.

“You’re not,” you manage to sputter out. “You’re not reading it wrong.” He hums in satisfaction, eyes trailing over your face.

Ukai surges forward, and his lips are warm and rough against yours, and he steals your breath away immediately. A hand gently holds your face to his, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. Tentatively, you twist your fingers into his hair, and he groans against you. He pulls away from your lips, leaving you chasing after him. He pants against you, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Been wanting to do this for years,” he mutters, looking at you intensely.

“What took you so long?” He rolls his eyes, leaving sharp kisses down your neck.

“Too scared that I would push you away, and I did that anyways.” You pout at his words, tugging him up by his hair.

“I’m not going away again, and there’s nothing you could do to make me” you murmur, leaning forward to kiss him. His tongue prods at your lips, and you open your mouth obediently, letting him explore. Ukai’s hands are warm on your waist, squeezing the flesh that’s there. He pulls you onto his lap, shifting his legs under you so you’re flush against him.

“You good?” you ask in between kisses, scratching his scalp. His hips rock against you, and he pulls back to smirk at you.

“I’m more than good, baby.” Grinning, you meet his mouth again, letting your hips grind against him. His warm hands wander up and down your body, setting your skin on fire. They rest on your waist under your shirt, and his fingers tap at the flesh there. You hum happily, before leaning away and pulling off your shirt and tossing it behind you. Ukai freezes, eyes hungrily taking in the newly exposed skin. You flush as his hands start to trail upwards, ghosting over your skin.

You dip forward to kiss him again, and his hands reach around to fumble with your bra. You smile against his lips as he struggles, but the second it’s off, his hands are kneading your breasts.

“What are you smiling about?” he mutters against your lips, before pinching one of your nipples. You pull back and inhale sharply, biting your lip before tugging at his shirt.

“Not fair that yours is still on, Keishin,” you whine. He rolls his eyes, and pushes you off of his lap, letting you fall against the futon. Ukai strips quickly, a sharp grin on his face making you flush. He crawls forward, caging you in between his arms. His hips settle in between your thighs, and you can feel his erection through his boxers.

When he looks at you, his hair flops down. You lift your hand, running your fingers through it. He leans into your touch, grinning before bending down to kiss you. His lips are warm against you, and he doesn’t waste any time, attacking your jawline and neck with sharp, biting kisses. You card your hands through his hair, eyes fluttering shut. His kisses switch into something more intense, and you gasp, eyes fluttering open as small bites litter your neck.

“Ukai,” you moan, fingers tightening in his hair. He leaves little marks until he reaches your chest. His tongue swirls around a nipple, fingers pinching the other. The small sparks of pleasure go straight to your pussy, and your hips shift underneath Ukai, making him groan.

His mouth is hot and relentless on you, and your nipples ache from the attention. His teeth lightly bite down on your breast, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make your eyes fly open.

“Keishin!” you squeal. He chuckles before letting his tongue run over were he just bit.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, not really meaning it, and he continues his path down. When he reaches the waist of your shorts, his eyes find yours, waiting. Biting the inside of your cheek, you shift your hips up, and Ukai grips the fabric, tugging down both your shorts and your underwear. His eyes focus on your exposed pussy, making note of how it’s already wet.

“Quit staring,” you complain, embarrassment flooding your system. He smirks down at you, using his finger to trail up and down your already soaking slit.

“So pretty and wet…” he mumbles. Your hips squirm underneath him, and his finger travels to circle your sensitive clit. You whine at the jolts of pleasure, making him smirk. His finger dips down, and he pushes it in gently. He thumbs at your clit, eyes flicking in between your face and your greedy pussy. Your tug at his hair, rotating your hips in time with his gentle thrusts.

“Keishin, more please,” you whine, making him chuckle. He slips another finger in, stretching you out. Your hands leave his hair to pinch at your nipples. Ukai’s head dips down to lightly bite the inside of your thigh, making you jolt. When he pushes in a third finger, you moan loudly, throwing your head back against the pillow. Something white-hot and foreboding pokes at the edges of your mind, threatening to spill over.

“I’m gonna cum, Kei,” you warn, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers curl inside of you, thumb still relentless on your clit.

“Open your eyes, Y/N.” His voice leaves no room for any argument, and you force them to open, watching as his fingers continue to pump into you. “Cum for me, baby.” He leans down again, eyes fixed on yours, and he bites the inside of your other thigh, and the pain combines with the pleasure, catapulting you over the edge.

You writhe and thrash against him, hips bucking up against his fingers. Ukai’s laugh fills the room, and he continues to move his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. When he finally pulls his hand away, you whimper from the loss. He presses a kiss to your hip before flipping you over.

You hear him shuffle, and you glance over your shoulder and see him kneeling behind you, boxers finally off. Excitement and arousal pool inside of you, and you squirm as his hands massage your ass.

“You’re big,” you murmur, making him laugh. He’s thick and long enough that you know it’ll feel good. But even then, you can’t help but wonder if he’ll actually fit. You flush facing forward again, but he leans down to press kisses to your spine.

“You good to keep going?” he asks in between each peck. You nod, letting your fingers dig into the sheets by your head.

“I’ve been thinking about this for years,” he groans, making you flush. His fingers dig into your ass, massaging the flesh. You squirm underneath him, feeling yourself get wetter under his touch. Ukai runs the head of his cock up and down your slit, and you inhale sharply, overcome with the desire to see his face.

“Wait!” you cry out, throwing an arm back to grab his arm. Immediately, he pulls away from you and freezes.

“What’s wrong are you okay? Do you wanna stop?” Panic colors his voice, and you shake your head before rolling over onto you back.

“I, uh, I just wanted to see you,” you mumble, feeling shy. Ukai barks out a laugh and smirks down at you, one of his hands moving to stroke your thigh affectionately.

“Fair enough. There’s always next time.” His predatory grin makes your cunt clench, and you reach up, gesturing for him to lean down. He cocks his head to the side, hair tilting with it.

“What is it you want?” You flush, letting your gaze go past his shoulder.

“A kiss.” His eyes light up, and he leans down, letting his lips ghost against yours. You push up, meeting his lips, and he chuckles. Ukai ruts his hips against you, letting his cock slide in between your soaking folds.

“Keishin, quit teasing me,” you whine. He rolls his eyes before pushing away, resting on his knees.

“Wanna watch your little pussy try to take me,” he explains, letting the head of his cock gently push into you. Your face contorts at the breach, and you wring your hands in the sheets. He whispers sweet words, eyes glued to your flutter pussy. He slowly rocks his hips forward, watching as he sinks in another inch.

You let out a choked moan, his slow movements emphasizing his size. His eyes snap up to your face, letting his hands squeeze your waist.

“Your sweet little cunt feels so good already,” he groans. Your hands tug at the sheets as you try not to squirm. But it feels nearly impossible with how red-hot his cock feels inside of you.

You preen under Ukai’s attention, his hands massaging your flesh as your pussy tries to relax around his thick length.

“So hot and tight.” His words shake as his eyes trail down your body to watch your pussy split around him as he inches in.

“You’re too big,” you keen, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes at the intense stretch, and nonetheless, the thought adds fuel to the fire in your belly, and your pussy clenches down harder on his cock. His thumb strokes delicate circles into your hip, and he smirks down at you.

“Yea, and the thought has you squeezing around my cock, huh? That’s pretty messed up.” You flush at his words, embarrassment coursing through your veins. You turn your head to the side, wanting to escape his intense gaze. Keishin leans forward, rocking his hips and pushing his cock slowly into you until he bottoms out. You let out a pathetic whine, covering your face with your hands

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he coos, batting at your hands, which flop above your head. “I think it’s cute how tight you are around me. I’m just too big? Is that it, baby?” You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you. He chuckles as you bury face into the crook of his neck. Tentatively, Ukai slowly pulls out, every ridge and vein dragging deliciously against your walls. When he pushes back in, you groan against his skin, and your hands travel up and down the smooth expanse of his back, your nails leaving red lines.

His hand snakes in-between the two of you, and a calloused finger expertly traces patterns onto your clit. You moan loudly, and your body writhes against him. Ukai pulls away from you, and a cruel grin sprawls out onto his face.

“Are you gonna cum? Already?” You nod, pathetically bucking your hips against him still. “We’ve barely started,” he taunts.

“I can’t help it,” you choke out, nerves feeling overwhelmed by sensations. He hums at your words, licking his lips as he eyes your body.

“Okay. It’s okay. Do you wanna be good for me?” he gently asks. You squirm beneath him, hands gripping his biceps, and you nod your head.

“I wanna be good for you, Keishin,” you cry out, the walls of your cunt fluttering around his thick cock. “I’ll be good for you.” His smirk slips into a softer smiler, and he leans forward, grinding his cock into you, and leaving sharp kisses against your neck.

“Then cum for me,” he murmurs against your neck, before shifting to lightly bite your shoulder. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you cant your hips against him, pussy fluttering around him. You grip his biceps tightly, orgasm overwhelming you.

“That’s it. Creaming so pretty on my dick,” Ukai whispers, watching your face contort in pleasure. He ruts into you, fingers still expertly teasing your clit, in an attempt to draw out your orgasm. Your eyes crack open, small tears leaking from your eyes.

“It’s too much, Kei,” you squeal, nails digging into his biceps as you try to squirm away from him. He tuts lightly at you, his hot tongue swiping along the delicate bite mark that’s on your shoulder.

“I thought you wanted to be good for me,” he rumbles. You nod, letting your eyes shut again. The fingers that were tortuously circling your clit slip away to pinch you’re inner thigh. “Look at me, baby.” You pry your eyes open and pant against him. His clever fingers continue their ministrations, and his hips grind deeper into you, making your brain feel foggy and warm.

“I wanna be good,” you mumble, hands leaving his biceps to tangle themselves into his hair. Ukai makes an approving sound, and he kisses your cheek.

“Cum. Again.” A pathetic cry tears itself from your throat, and you focus on the intense pleasure you’re feeling. Ukai leans down, littering your chest with little sharp bites that make you keen. Your brows pinch at the intense pleasure, hips grinding against him. You’re already close again, and you tug at his hair, urging him to kiss you again. His lips eagerly find yours, and you feel him smile against you. You’re so close to falling over that edge again. Your cunt is absolutely drenched, and the erotic squelching makes you flush.

Ukai’s tongue prods at your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, letting him in. It’s sloppy and desperate, and it’s perfect. His fingers dig into your clit, pinching it, and you are flung into the stratosphere, stars popping into your vision. You gush around his cock, and he groans against your lips.

Your thighs twitch, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him close to you, urging him to still. He complies, peppering your face with kisses as you come back to earth.

“So pretty,” he whispers against you. You card your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath.

“Oh my god, Keishin.” Your voice wavers, and you're embarrassed by how hoarse you sound.

“Want me to stop?” You shake your head desperately at his question, and your legs tighten around him.

“No. I just need a second.” He chuckles watching as your screws up. “I didn’t think I was that sensitive,” you sigh. You unlace your fingers from his hair, wiping at the sweat that’s on your neck.

Ukai smirks at you as he shifts to kneel. His warm hands gripping your waist, keeping you flushed against him. You whine at the movement, pussy tightening around him. His eyes trail over where he enters you, admiring how you’re spread out for him.

“Or, maybe my dick’s too big for you,” he taunts, no real malice behind his words. You squeak at his words, feeling embarrassed and warm. “Yea, that’s it,” he continues, fondly looking at your messy cunt. “You’re so sensitive cause it barely fits in your cunt,” he coos.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, lazily wrapping your legs around him. He lets out a laugh, one that resounds through the apartment, and you smile at him, something syrupy running through your head. “And I think-“

You cut yourself off, nerves overtaking you. His head cocks to the side, and his thumb strokes your waist in a reassuring manner.

“I’m balls deep in you. Don’t get shy on me now,” he says gently, his soft tone colliding with his crude words.

“You’re so vulgar, Keishin.” You roll your eyes at him, a soft smile creeping onto your face. “It could be that,” you say, not wanting to repeat his words, “but I also think I may be sensitive cause it’s you.”

Your voice is soft, and you watch as Ukai practically melts. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. You moan as your weight settles on him, increasing the pressure from his cock.

“Are you being serious right now?” His voice rumbles through you, and you bite your lip and nod. You press a palm to his cheek, relishing in the way he leans into it.

“There’s no one for me but you, Keishin.” Ukai kicks his legs out behind you, letting you get more comfortable on his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, and he buries his face into your neck. His hips buck up into you, making you squeal.

“Gonna fuck you so good. You’re never gonna be able to think about anyone but me inside this pussy.” He punctuates his words with a thrust, and your nails dig into his back. You rock your hips against him, as he sprinkles kisses against your neck.

“Ever since,” you pant, “ ever since I got back, all I’ve thought about is you. I missed you so much.” He moans into your neck, and his sweet kisses turn into little bites, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“Did you touch yourself? Thinking about my fat cock pushing into you?” he mutters in between nips. Your brows pinch together and you nod as your exhausted pussy flutters again.

“Yes! But all I wanted was you!” Ukais teeth clamp down on your neck, not hard enough to break skin, but it stings. You squeal as he roughly changes positions again, forcing you on your back again, legs wrapped tightly around him.

His pace is relentless, pounding into you. Your fingers claw down his back, and his hands squeeze your hips.

“It’s too much, Kei,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut. Ukai presses a searing kiss to your lips, thumb digging into your side.

“Please, baby. Give me one more. Cum for me one more time,” he mumbles into your lips. You nod against him, blinking through the tears. “Good. Just let me fuck you like this.”

His cock drives deep in you, making you keen. Your hands travel up to his hair, tangling into it, and tugging at the strands. He feels everywhere, his presence is overwhelming, hot and heavy. His hips rut into you, lips peppering your face with small kisses. Your cunts already oversensitive can feel your orgasm approaching.

“I’m close, Kei,” you choke out, pussy gushing around his cock. You flush at the lewd noises, but he just moans nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Give it to me. Wanna feel your little pussy squeeze around me.” You hold him to your neck, hips bucking into him. Ukai’s hand snakes down in between the two of you, and his fingers rub intense circles on your clit. Your eyes squeeze shut, as the building pleasure finally reaches its peak.

“Just like that, baby. Cum around my cock.” You writhe beneath him, your hands traveling to claw down his back. Your hot cunt grips him tight, legs tightening around his waist. “Just like that,” he groans, before his teeth sink into the base of your shoulder. You moan his name loudly, loud enough that you would be embarrassed later, but for not you don’t care. All you can focus on is the white-hot pleasure that’s coursing through your system.

Ukai’s thrusts don’t stop, plowing into you and prolonging your orgasm. He pulls his hand away from your clit, and he slips his arms in between your back and the bed, holding you tightly. You whine as you feel his hips begin to lose their pace, thrusts no longer steady. Your legs squeeze around him, keeping him close to you.

“Cum inside, please I need it,” you beg. He pulls away from your neck, eyebrows creasing in concern. “I’m on the pill. It’s safe, I promise. Please Kei, I need you to fill me, please, please, please.”

“Alright, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” His head drops back to the crook of your neck, as he stutters against you, hot spurts of cum flooding your pussy. He falls against you, before rolling onto his side, keeping you tight against him. His cock is still lodged within you, and you whine at the movement. Sweet kisses litter your face and neck, and you blink blearily at him. He slowly pulls out of you, grunting at the way your pussy flutters. You grimace as his cum drips out of your abused cunt.

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he mumbles, before standing up and disappearing to the bathroom. You flop onto your back, trying to catch your breath. When Ukai returns, he kneels in between your shaky legs, and ever so carefully, he takes care of you. There’s something unusually soft in his actions, soft enough to make your heart squeeze. He also gets you a glass of water, which you gulp down. He lights a cigarette, as he watches your eyes start to clear up.

“Keishin, you’re kind of nasty,” you mumble, stretching your arms out above your head. His laugh rumbles through the air, as he takes a drag. He eyes you greedily, as if he’s going to eat you alive.

“This was nothing. There’s so much I wanna do to you.” His voice is low, heavy with exhaustion. “But for now I just want to hold you.”

“Well that can be arranged,” you tease, lying back on the bed. Ukai chuckles, putting out his cigarette and crawling forward to wrap his arms around you. You sigh in contentment, letting your eyes shut.

“I missed you,” he mutters, and you smile against him.

“I missed you too, Keishin.” Sleep tugs at your brain, luring it to a deep rest.

“Did you mean it? What you said?” His voice is unusually quiet, delicately piercing the air. His thumb gently strokes your arm. Your eyes flutter open, and your brows pinch as you try to recall what you had said.

“About what?” you ask, trying to stifle a yawn.

“What you said? About you and me?”

Oh.

You smile at him, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pull away, you lean your forehead against his and you smile.

“The only person for me is you, Keishin. It’s always been you.” He hums happily before he pulls you against him.

“Good. Cause I was serious. I’m not letting you go again.” You shut your eyes and nuzzle into him, taking comfort in the way his arms wrap around you. And it’s in those arms that you embrace the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.✨

#ukai keishin x reader #keishin ukai x reader #coach ukai x reader #ukai keishin x you #keishin ukai x you #coach ukai x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #coach ukai smut #ukai keishin smut #keishin ukai smut #haikyuu smut #💫.ukai

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l4verq · 4 years ago

Text

fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #fatws bucky #fatws #flag smashers #marvel #mcu

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thelargefrye · 4 years ago

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YEARNING FOR YOU. kang yeosang (18+)

── summary. you’re just within reach and yet every time he tries to get to you, you vanish right before his eyes... again and again and again.

── roles. mage!yeosang + mage!f!reader (ft. poly!mage!ateez & other idols)

── genre. smut + one-shot + mages + magic shop + supernatural + mythology + historical to modern day + romance + eventual poly relationship + angst + drama + reincarnation (most of these are for the overall story not necessarily this one-shot)

── word count. 3.3k

── warnings. nightmares + language + sub!yeosang & dom!reader + kissing + little hair pulling + one moment of spanking + anal fingering + handjob + degrading + amazon position + y/n is mentioned to have tattoos

── developer’s note. happy birthday @atiny-piratequeen !! this is just a small something that i’m working on that’s inspired by against the tide !! i figured that since i probably might not get the whole story done by your birthday bc i’ve already been working on it for two weeks and i’m only still doing world and backstory building rip then i would just share a small piece that included yeosang. i’m still working on characters and personalities so anything you read here is subject to change by the time i get the first official chapter out.

when the door to the shop chimed, yeosang didn’t bother looking up from his book he was reading. he knew that usually customers – humans at least – would just look around before leaving or come up to mindlessly flirt with him. it was the same thing every time the bell dinged.

he could hear the customer’s shoes, heels to be exact, softly thudding across the old wooden floors as they strolled around the small shop. his hearing could pick up where exactly in the shop they were, so when they finally started nearing the back to where he and register were, he assumed this customer just wanted to flirt with him like always.

“um, excuse me,” yeosang’s head shot up immediately at the sound of the familiar voice. you stood in front of him also with a look of shock from how quickly yeosang moved and his eyes flickered down to the canvas in your arms.

“o-oh, um, hi. how can i... how can i help you,” yeosang says as he tries his best to relax, but honestly he doesn’t think he can, not when you’re here in front of him and talking to him.

you smile softly at him before handing over the canvas you had in your hands, “this is the painting hongjoong asked me to paint. he told me i could find him and the rest of you here. is he, um, is he here by any chance?”

“huh? oh, yeah is he, let me go get him!” yeosang had never moved so fast before as he practically jumped off his stool and ran to the back to get the group’s leader and tell him you’re here.

“y/n’s here!” yeosang says probably a bit too loudly and maybe just a little too excitedly but he hasn’t seen you in centuries. he has a right to be happy to see his missing lover.

hongjoong isn’t by himself in the back, all the others are basically here too, except for jongho and san who had gone out to get information on how to help you remember your first life.

“she is? why?” mingi asks, a look of shock drawn on his face knowing you’re here just in the other room.

“she brought the painting hongjoong asked her to paint,” yeosang says and hongjoong is quick to go to the front and yeosang picks up on how hongjoong greets you with a cheery tone.

at first yeosang thinks about staying in the back and letting you and hongjoong talk for a moment, but his need to see you again overcomes that he heads back to the front of the shop. he hears the others coming up behind him as he does and he figures the others couldn’t wait either.

a wave of memories washes over him as he sees you and hongjoong interacting so closely. all the times he would see you and hongjoong interacting on the utopia, all the lingering stares and touches you thought no one else saw, but in reality everyone saw.

he misses you. they all miss you.

“wow, y/n, this is beautiful,” hongjoong can’t take his eyes off the painting you gave him and you have a proud look on your face as your eyes flicker between the male and the painting before you slowly look up and over at where him and the others are.

“oh, i didn’t know you all worked here as well!” you say and greeted them all with a smile.

“i actually own this shop,” hongjoong says and you turn to look at him in shock. “my grandmother ran this shop before passing it down to me before she retired.” yeosang couldn’t help but slightly snicker at how hongjoong called hyuna a grandmother.

“really? that’s so cool! i had actually never been in this shop before until today,” you offhandedly as you glance around the shop some more. “oh!” you say catching the six males off guard as they watched you dig through your bag before pulling out eight envelopes. “siyeon is throwing a party and wants me to invite you all!” you say handing each other an invitation before giving jongho and san’s to wooyoung. “i hope you all can make it!”

“of course! we’ll do our best to be there,” hongjoong says, but yeosang knows that all eight of them are definitely going especially since you’re going to be there. “also, thank you again for the painting, it really is beautiful.”

“oh, of course! i’m glad you like it, i always enjoy painting sea related stuff, so this was a blast to paint,” you explain with a small laugh. “well, i should be going! i promised siyeon i would help her with party decisions, so... i’ll see you all around,” you say bidding the males goodbye before turning on your heels and leaving the shop.

yeah, yeosang and the other are gonna have to work fast.

𐂴𐂴𐂴

sometimes when yeosang misses you, he’ll find himself remembering the time when you all were together on the utopia. he’ll remember how you use to help him in the kitchen, acting as both a hand and taste-tester to him.

all the heated gazes the two of you shared being the reason for his flushed face that he would blame on the heat in the kitchen when the others would question him. although he was sure the others didn’t believe because his magic dealt with fire, so some kitchen heat was nothing for him.

but no matter what the same thought still comes to him. he just misses you. he thinks that over and over again until he falls asleep and you appear in his dreams.

it’s silly he knows it, mainly using his magic in order to ensure that you appear to him. he has sweet dreams when you are with him and others all enjoying your time together; however, the moment he remembers that none of it is real and that you are living a completely different life without remembering them, without remembering him. it all turns into a nightmare.

and its always the same. the same day he and the others are forced to remember and sometimes relive again and again for centuries.

“yeosang, wake up!”

his eyes snap open and he feels hot, his bangs matted to his forehead with sweat and his eyes are immediately trying to get used to the darkness of his bedroom.

that voice... he thinks as he brings his hands up to cover his face. huh? was he crying?

“yeosang,” he hears it again and sounds so close to him. right next to him and he feels like he’s still dreaming. but he turns his head and his brown orbs meet your own worried eyes as you sit next to him in his bed.

“y/n...?” he reaches out to touch your cheek, his hands caressing your face and he gasps when he realizes you’re real and next to him.

“why are you crying, love?” you ask him watching as he sits up. you reach over to brush his tears away before he suddenly takes you in his arms. “did you have a bad dream, yeo?”

yeosang doesn’t trust his words so he just nods his head as he nuzzles his head into your neck. “it’s okay,” you say softly, rubbing his back in comfort, “i’m here and nothings going to happen while i’m here. i promise.”

yeosang has heard you say those words before and it only makes him cry harder. you said that to him the first time you woke him up from a nightmare. you would always take him into your arms and hold him and wipe away his tears and tell him it’s okay and it’s all in the past.

when yeosang does finally calm down, tears no longer running down his face, he slowly pulls away from you to lay back down. you lay down right next to him, pulling the blanket up to your chins as you brush hair away from his face.

“i love you,” he says as he feels himself slowly falling back to sleep. you smile sadly at him, a hand still running through his hair as his eyes finally close.

𐂴𐂴𐂴

seonghwa was jealous, yeosang was 100% sure of that. the ice mage’s glare could probably set someone ablaze if he had fire magic instead. and honestly, yeosang doesn’t blame his boyfriend for being jealous because he was as well.

“and who the hell is that?” wooyoung was the one who spoke up, shocked like seonghwa and himself at the sight of you talking to this unknown male.

well, unknown to them at least. you seemed to be pretty close to the male, too close if yeosang or any of the others could say anything.

“do you think they’re...” mingi didn’t want to say it out loud, probably knowing how much chaos he would cause among them if he did.

yeosang wanted to be upset. upset at you for potentially going and falling in love with someone that isn’t them, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t be upset at you because this you, the one standing not too far from him and his seven lovers, this you isn’t the same you he met all those centuries ago.

you don’t remember the love you shared and it broke yeosang’s heart.

his eyes flickered over to seonghwa noticing the furrow in his eyebrows before he looks over to hongjoong who is just staring at you with sadness. then his eyes go back to you and this male who are sitting closely next to each other. the guy looks at you with such a softness that it reminds the fire mage of how seonghwa looks at all of them, with love.

the male plays with the ends of your hair, running it over your face in a teasing manner that makes you laugh and yeosang would be lying if he said your laugh didn’t make his heart flutter.

yeosang misses you.

𐂴𐂴𐂴

yeosang can’t help but sigh as soon as his body hit his bedsheets. he felt clean and relaxed after a long day of working in the shop below them and dealing with both humans and supernatural creatures alike.

while he was staring up at the ceiling, he closed his eyes and started to doze off. he’s not sure for how long his eyes were closed, but he only opens them when he feels his bed dip.

looking over he was greeted by the sight of you in little to no clothing and a warm smile on your face.

“y/n, what are you doing?” yeosang was more than surprised to see you in his room. he was quick to sit up with a shocked expression as he moved so he was sitting right across from you.

“what do you mean, yeo? i’m visiting you of course!” you say cheerfully.

yeosang looked over you and he noticed the familiar tattoos that decorated your right arm. “you’re not real, are you?” he asked as he bowed his head so you couldn’t see his face.

one of your fingers reached under to tilt his chin up and you looked at him with a gaze, “i’m as real as you want me to be,” you say with a smile as you leaned over and kissed him.

yeosang immediately allowed you to take the lead. your lips guiding his as you ran a hand threw his hair and gently tugged on it causing yeosang to moan into your mouth as your tongue explored his mouth and while also teasingly play with his own wet muscle.

yeosang was melting into the kiss, his hands coming up to your waist to pull you closer to him with your chest flushed tightly against his. when you pulled away from the kiss, yeosang tried to follow after your lips making you let out a small laugh at how cute he was acting.

yeosang only looked at you with slightly dazed eyes, still not fully believing you are here in front of him which allowed you to push at his shoulders, making him fall on his back and into the softness of the bed.

“y/n... please,” he whines as you hover over him slightly, both your hands caging his head to the bed as you look down at him.

“what yeo? what do you want me to do?” you ask with a teasing smile, god, he hasn’t seen this smile in centuries.

“p-please, please fuck me,” he chokes out and your smile turns into a grin as you trail your finger down the center of his body before it stops at the towel he still had wrapped around his waist.

“want me to take it off?” he nods without hesitation, “words.”

“yes!” and the towel was unwrapped from his hips and now he was completely bare to you. his cock was only semi-hard when you removed the towel and yeosang watched as your fingers ghosted over the tip, just barely grazing it. “please touch me, don’t tease me,” he begs and you hum before wrapping your hand around his cock and slowly began stroking it until it was fully hard and an angry red, his pre-cum only just slowly starting to appear at his tip.

he let out a string of whines and curses as you began moving your hand suddenly at a fast pace without warning. yeosang’s back arched off the bed, but your free hand came down to hold him still to the bed before you suddenly stop stroking him.

yeosang watches you as you move in between his legs before grabbing the underside of his thighs, giving them a good squeeze before hoisting them up to his chest. when you let go of his legs, yeosang immediately went to hold them in place as his face was flushed a bright red.

you cooed at him as you leaned over his bent body and kissed him before pulling away to look at his ass that was now on full display for you. his hole tight and pink as you played with it, wiggling just the tip of your index into him before pulling out.

“you’re so tight yeo, does none our boys fuck you open enough?” yeosang moaned at the degrading tone you had laced in your voice. “that’s okay though,” you begin adding a firm smack to both his asscheeks, “i can just fuck you open myself.”

yeosang wanted to come with there and then at your words, but he only settled for letting out a few moans instead. he knew the minute he came then it would all be over. he watched you quickly stand up and go over to his bedside table and dug through the draw before pulling out a bottle of lube.

yeosang watched as you squeezed the clear liquid substance into your palm before he felt you apply it to his hole. he moaned at the cold feeling it gave him as you rubbed it around his puckered hole before applying more to your fingers. fuck, he couldn’t hold his excitement as he felt your index probe at him before slowly slipping inside him.

“f-fuck– oh god, please!” he moaned out, throwing his head back as you eased him open. your movements were slow, almost too slow as if you were messing with him and he looked over to meet your eyes.

when you finally entered a second finger he felt his eye roll back as you started to pick up the pace a bit in your thrusting. yeosang let out a broken fuck as you slowly started hitting his prostate before grabbing his dick with your free hand and stroked him in time to your fingers thrusting in and out of him.

“does that feel good?” you ask and yeosang can only nod as his head fell back onto the bed. you frown at his nonverbal response and quickly stop both your hands making his whine as you remove your finger from him. “i asked a question yeosang, so answer it,” your voice sent a chill down his back as if it was seonghwa speaking to him.

“it does, it feels good,” he says, face burning red, “b-but...”

“but what? what do you want?”

“please, let m-me... let me be inside you,” he says and you coo once more at him before you lean over him once more. your nose brushing his from how close you are.

“do you deserve to be inside me? you may have a nice dick, but do you think you can use it to pleasure me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and yeosang felt his dick twitch from between the two of you at you questioning tone.

“p-please, y/n, please u-use me to pleasure you,” he says out of breath and you let out a small laugh as you sat up and slowly grind down on his dick. the fabric of your underwear slightly damp from your growing wetness and causes yeosang to moan at knowing how close he was actual to you.

“do the others know how much of slut you are?” you ask with a small laugh, “i’m sure they know how much you like to be used. hm, don’t they?”

“t-they do,” yeosang stutters out as he watches you move off of him to take your underwear off and he feels a chill run down his spine as you hover back on top of him to take his dick in your hand a position it at your entrance.

“is this what you want?”

“y-yes!” you smile as you sink down on his length with a moan. yeosang lets his mouth drop open as you start to bounce on his length, the sound of your skin meeting his joining the sound of his and your moans.

“f-fuck, yeosang!” you moan as yeosang takes you all in. his eyes fall on your chest which was still covered and he lets his legs go for a moment in order to unclasp your bra. you take your bra off and throw to the side now allowing yeosang the ability to see you completely bare now.

god, how he missed this sight and he was glad you were using his legs as support for yourself because this allowed him to roam his hands over your body.

getting lost in his pleasure he accidentally thrusted up making you glare at him before stopping, “toys don’t move, so still or i won’t let you cum,” you say and yeosang nods letting out a quiet y-yes before you continued between bouncing and moving your hips in figure-eights.

yeosang felt himself grow closer to his orgasm and you clenching around him doing nothing but bringing him closer. “i-i’m c-close! please y-y/n! let me–

he own choked moan cut him off as he felt you clench around him as you came with a loud moan and a whimper of his name. you coming was enough to finally send yeosang over the edge as he took in the sight of you climaxing, knowing you used him to reach your own pleasure.

it took you a moment before you slid off of him and next to him. you were quick to get him to put his legs down which felt a little sore from the position he held for so long.

while he caught his breath he felt you reach over and press different kisses all over his face making him smile. you pressed a final kiss to his lips before cleaning him up and helping him under the covers.

“i love you, y/n, please don’t disappear,” he says as you hold him close to you under the covers of his bed. you remained silent, only slowly running a hand through his hair and lulling him to sleep.

eventually, yeosang closed his eyes welcoming sleep as he fell asleep in your arms.

when he woke up the next morning he was greeted by an empty bed and yeosang can’t tell if what he experienced last night with you was even real or just a dream. with a sigh, he gets up and starts to get dressed before heading out of his room and to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for himself and the others.

“i love you, too.”

#8makes1teamnet #kdiarynet #poly ateez x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #poly ateez #ateez yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #kys.#dream films.

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laketaj24 · 4 years ago

Text

Single in Staten Island: Tattoos & Kisses

Author’s Note: This is a three-part series I am going to do on Pete!! I am going to use the prompts I got in the second part! I talked with a friend about him—he does truly deserve a good girl or someone who won’t fuck him over. Taglist is here! Reqs are open, but I’m slow, no lie.

Warnings: None, just language.- Smut in the following parts.

Pairings:Pete Davidson x Reader

Masterlist

“What’s your order?” The chipper attitude they were supposed to have had left the day you turned in your two-week notice. This coffee shop had been the bain of your assistance. Fuck this place. Fuck these people and fuck their fancy, overdone ass orders. You leaned on the counter, giving the man in front of you a stern look.

He looked around. Clearly, you didn’t have an attitude with him. He’d just walked in the fucking place. “Uhm—,” his eyes found the menu, but there was an aloofness in him that triggered you.

“You’ve been in line ten minutes, and you don’t know what you want?”

“Yep.” He nodded and shot a smile. “Ten whole minutes. Still a fuck up.” His finger tapped on the counter, and he looked up at the menu. Nothing here looked worth seven dollars, especially not a coffee. “What’s good here?”

“Look, I don’t know. ”You sighed. “I’m about to go lunch, and you’re the last order.” You flourished the lack of customers behind him.

“You from around here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Your attitude is pretty fucked up; I figured you lived up the block.” He took a pregnant pause and chuckled. “An Everything Bagel, jalapeño cream cheese, and a grande black coffee.”

“What’s the name?”

“Pete.”

“Spell that.”

“You can’t spell Pete?”

“You from around here?” You quipped.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I figured your name is probably spelled all fucked up and shit.”

He laughed, which was not what you expected; you just knew this was the gasoline added to a shitty fire. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Kinda weird.” He shrugged. “You wanna go somewhere better than this on your lunch break?”

“Unless you have a gram and a beer, no.”

“I have a gram and some black coffee if the barista doesnt quit before she puts my order in.”

You snickered. “That’ll do. Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but fucking Staten Island.”

��The ferry. It hadn’t been in the plans, but you were happy you said yes to the lean stranger. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette in one hand a flask in the other. It wasn’t precisely beer, but you had no complaints. “You want a sip?”

“Sure,” You took the flask without hesitation and chugged down three gulps before passing it back to him. It was gin, dry grade A gin. “That’s the kind of shit you bring on a ferry?”

“I thought I grabbed my tequila, but I must’ve drunk it all.”

“Drunk at 2pm on a Tuesday?”

“I’m not drunk; I’m enjoying a drink. Judge much?”

You shrugged and turned, resting your back on the railing beside him, feeling the cool breeze run through your hair. “So why did you invite me out here?’

“You looked like you needed saving, and I’ve been there. Shitty job with shitty people.” He flicked his cigarette ashes into the water below him. “Plus, you cussed me out on the job, which means your kinda badass.”

“I like to think I am.” You admit and nod your head. “You ever get tired of doing the same old shit?”

“yep, that’s why I get tatted.”

Then you noticed the tattoos spackled across his body in random places, and they were once more in a random fashion. Yet, you liked them; they matched him, odd and somehow insanely attractive. “Pete, I want a tattoo. Take me to your guy.”

“What do you mean to take me to my guy? Does it look like I have a guy?” Pete laughs. “I’m like a god damn coloring book; let’s find the first shop and just do it. I pick yours… you pick mine. Stranger tats.”

“Why not?”

“Your boyfriend won’t appear and try to beat my ass?”

“Unless you’re imaginary, too, I think you’re good.”

‘Fucking Brickhouse like you, single in Staten Island?”

“Single in Staten island is not a rarity.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. It’s the only way to be.” He said with a bit of sarcasm.

The conversation was random the entire ferry trip; you made wisecracks and rebutted, flirting with you but keeping his distance. “Tell me three weird facts about yourself.” You twiddled with your fingers and looked up to meet his brown eyes. “I’m sure you have more than three, but spare me the rest.”

“I like to be alone.” Pete looked back. “But I love a good party, but when I go, I hang out alone and watch people. People are interesting as fuck.”

“I find them to be boring.”

“That’s because you’re not looking for the right things.” He pointed to the woman about fifty feet away from the two of you. The older lady sat tired, sunglasses covered her face while the gray hair blew wild in the wind. “See Gladys there; she’s about to go home to a man she’s been with for thirty-five years. The best dick she ever had.”

Your face radiated with heat as you suppressed a chuckle. “Has to be to stay with it thirty-five years.”

“You haven’t had someone dick you down that makes you want to stay thirty-five years?”

“Not even make me want to stay a week,” You answered.

“That’s fucked up.” Pete smiled.

“That’s life, Pete. Unfortunately, people don’t always get good dick like Gladys.”

“Yeah, lucky bitch.” His phone rang, and he shifted, digging in his light denim jeans to retrieve his iPhone and answer the call. “It’s Pete.”

You turned, giving him some privacy and taking it all in. You didn’t plan to return to work, fuck that place and everything it entailed. You started a new job in three days; you’d take these three days to not give a fuck. That feeling started today; it started with your new friend Pete and this tattoo. The call ended after a few minutes; he didn’t talk about much, just a conversation with a friend and plans he had for a party later tonight.

“The shop is about five blocks from where we get off. Have you decided what I’m getting?”

“I want to see the designs first; I want it to be memorable.”

“Make it your number.”

“Is that your coded way in asking for it?”

“Not coded, I swear.” Pete leaned closer to you. “I kinda think if we are gonna get stranger tattoos, we should have each other’s number.’

“We won’t be strangers then.”

“Call them something else then.”

“I’ll let you know if you can have this number later… I haven't got an invite to this party yet.”

“You're totally invited.” Pete tossed his hands up. “Give me three digits.”

“847.” You snickered.

“Good, I guess I can work for the next seven.”

The shop was grimy, with dark walls and low lights. The smell of weed and liquor hit your nose, and you felt at home for some reason. Your legs ached; the walking didn’t bother you usually but pairing it with walking didn’t do much good for you. You sat in the chair across from Pete. “Don’t make this a dumb tattoo.”

“You’re talking to the king of dumb shit.” He pointed to the small elephant; it wasn’t dumb, though. It had a feminine line design, and it was petite, adorable even. “I’m sparing you today. You’re getting this,” He smiled. “An elephant, not dumbo but a distant hot cousin.”

“I like it.”

“Good.” His smile was sincere. “I hoped you would. When is she up?” He asked the artist.

“I can get her now.” He answered as he started to sketch the elephant onto the transfer paper. “Hop up, sweet cheeks, and it’ll be about ten minutes.”

Pete extended his hand like a gentleman and led you to the red leather chair. ‘Ever had one before?”

“I have three.” You admitted.

“I see none.” He looked you over quizzically. “Not a one.”

“They are hidden….” You answered, choosing not to tell him they were down your chest and down your thigh.

“Secret tattoos. I like it. I can dig it.”

“Sure. Where is this party tonight?” You asked.

“Back in Staten Island.”

‘Can I trust you, Pete?”

“I hope so; I feel trustworthy?”

“You answered that like you didn't know the answer.” You shifted in the seat and pulled your shirt over your head. You revealed the tattoo of the moon phases going down your chest. “Just because you can't see something does not mean it isn’t there.”

“They're fucking awesome, like the person they are on.”

“You only think I’m awesome because you don’t know me.”

“I know enough.”

It was not like you to kiss a stranger because instead, you wanted to admit it or not, Pete was a stranger to you; you didn’t care. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, and he responded immediately, kissing you back eagerly. His lips were soft, full, and applying just the perfect amount of pressure to yours.

“You two want to fuck or get this tattoo.”

You exhaled, pulling away from him. “Can we do both?”

To be Continued.

@honestsycrets @pyschiccreationtaco @opalsandlacemain @battbeans @placeoffreedom @daddyavesxx @niamandthings @honeyel @locht3ssmonster @itslovengie

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #pete davidson x black!reader #laketa j writes

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destieltropecollection · 4 years ago

Photo

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 22: Meet Cute

Trick Or Oh No, Please Don't Cry | @deansmultitudes

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,360 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Dad!Castiel, Halloween, Fluff Summary: Dean expected the Halloween night, spent on giving out candy, to be rather uneventful. And it was, at least, until the tiny disaster happened.

Losing A Few Teeth | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,481 Main Tags/Warnings: dentist office, high on nitrous oxide Dean, drunken marriage proposal, first meetings Summary: Dean probably should’ve had his wisdom teeth removed ages ago, but he's never been fond of doctors of any sort, and that included dentists as far as he's concerned. But when he wakes up from getting them removed, the nitrous oxide makes him a bit drunker than expected. Proposing marriage to the hot nurse with the ungodly amazing blue eyes level drunk, apparently.

irresistible | @kitmistry

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,529 Main Tags/Warnings: Top Castiel, Bottom Dean, Porn with Plot, Strangers to Lovers, Celebrity Castiel Summary: Well, hello there, Mr. Dark-and-Handsome. Dean can spy what is surely a demi-god, talking with a few ladies across the room. The ladies all coo, and blush, and cling to him with adoration written into every curve of their shapely bodies. The demi-god, though, is cool and aloof. He smiles politely at them, but doesn’t single any of them out. Doesn’t even really look like he’s paying that much attention to them, actually. His strikingly blue eyes scan the room every now and then, without focusing on any person or art piece in particular. The demi-god turns his face so he’s looking somewhere to Dean’s left, and holy. fucking. shit. That’s Castiel Novak! The movie star!

My Honey Bee | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,774 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Dean, omega Cas, true mates, scenting, first meetings Summary: Rolling his eyes as Sam excitedly made his way to a booth selling what looked like weeds as far as the alpha was concerned, Dean started wandering in the opposite direction. Wrinkling his nose in horror at an older lady selling hideous crafts made out of freaking corn husks (do people even buy crap like that?), he was suddenly hit by the most delicious scent ever. He knew he recognized it from somewhere, but he just couldn’t place it. It was sweet and thick, and even had him drooling a little from how good it smelled.

To All The Places I've Never Been | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 2,814 Main Tags/Warnings: first meetings, barista Cas, pilot Dean, referenced Sam/Eileen Summary: Castiel has always wished that he could travel the world and see all the beauty and adventure awaiting him. Working at Starbucks for minimum wage, though, usually makes travel like that way too expensive and impossible. And working at said Starbucks in an airport only adds insult to injury. Maybe the cute green-eyed pilot that just ordered some coffee can sweep him away from here?

The Fortune Teller | @expectingtofly

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,038 Main Tags/Warnings: Fortune Teller!Cas, Eileen/Sam, Normal Life AU, Beach Vacation, Fluff, Inspired by the song "Fortune Teller" by Robert Plant and Allison Krauss Summary: Dean doesn't trust any of this hippy bullshit—as he likes to call it. But he's at the beach on vacation with Sam and Eileen and they've dragged him to a fortune teller, so he reluctantly follows. Cue an attractive, charming fortune teller and a palm reading Dean wants to dismiss, but can't seem to shake.

Winchester's Haunted House | @deansmultitudes & @kitmistry

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,417 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Past Character Death, Ghost!Cas, Halloween, Haunted House Summary: For the Halloween evening, Dean turns his new home into a haunted house for neighboring kids. But once all the guests are gone, is when the real haunting begins.

Heat powered by you | @Mistofstars

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,177 Main Tags/Warnings: Destiel, cold winter night, holding hands for warmth, first encounter, Fluffy, Romance, duracell campaign Summary: Just two strangers in a cold winter night, who have both missed the last bus home. Luckily, there is a bus shelter that provides warmth – as long as you hold hands to close the electric circuit. Too bad that Castiel appears pretty infuriating to Dean. Or is it something else? P Inspired by the Duracell campaign "Moments of Warmth".

The Christmas Market | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 4,377 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fic, First Meet, Meet Cute Summary: Being alone in a country he didn't know was never Dean's plan. Still, he tried to make the best out of it and, in the end, he thinks he really did.

Muse | @twisted-pride

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,605 Main Tags/Warnings: temporary character death, implied/referenced character death Summary: His life is but flashes Castiel has remembered from dreams, recreated in monochrome, if only so that Cas could prove this man wasn’t made up. After all, he’s certain he’s alive, that he’s someone out there that Cas just can’t get out of his head: he’s stuck with Cas too long to be fictional. And yet -- and it sounds silly in Cas’ head -- he’s never met the man. Someone he has drawn and painted for at least a decade, one that’s haunted his dreams even longer, and he didn’t even know his name. --- Ever since he was young, Cas has been haunted by this phantom of a man, both in his dreams and in the real world. No matter what Cas does, where he goes, the man is there too. In every mirror, every reflection, in puddles and car windows and the faintest reflection of Cas in the metal pitcher at restaurants. He's certain the man isn't the result of an overactive imagination or a ghost with unfinished business, but if he really is experiencing someone else's dreams, why is it only this stranger that Cas sees in his dreams and no one else? [Prophet AU]

This Charming Man | @expectingtofly

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,993 Main Tags/Warnings: College AU, Fluff, First Kiss, Inspired by the song "This Charming Man" by The Smiths Summary: Castiel is not having a good night. He was on a bike ride, until some asshole nearly hit him with his car, sending Cas veering onto the shoulder. Now he has a flat tire and has to walk his bike back to his college dorm. And, it looks like it's about to rain. Then said asshole returns, apologizing and offering to give Cas a drive. Sure, he's attractive and Cas' own age, but he could also be a serial killer for all Cas knows. Either this night is looking up or it's gonna get a whole lot worse.

Splash | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,132 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean wears a bikini, Genderfluid Dean Winchester, Feminization, HHomophobic Language, genderphobia, lifeguard!cas, First Time, First Kiss, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Summary: Dean is an idiot. Since it’s hot outside and Sammy wants a break from his studies, they decide to check out the local pool. Feeling brave Dean decides to finally be himself for once. Will he regret that?

A New Perspective | @kingdumbass

Rating: Mature Word Count: 5,471 Main Tags/Warnings: First Date, Meet Cute, Blind Date, Artist Cas, Language Summary: A recently dumped Dean is begrudgingly dragged off of his couch by his brother Sam to attend an art show. As it turns out, getting off the couch can be a good thing sometimes.

The Samhain Feast | @deansmultitudes & @kitmistry

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Magic AU,Wich!Dean/Familiar!Cas, Animal Sacrifice Summary: The end of the harvest. The one day the veil between our world and the otherworld is thinnest. The day when a witch coming of age can try summoning and binding a familiar. The Samhain Feast is a tradition so ancient, no one remembers how it started. Dean has attended every single one of them since he was old enough to walk, watching witches meeting their familiars and bonding with them. This year, it's his turn to make an offering. And hope one of the familiars chooses him.

Dear Santa | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,854 Main Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Top Castiel/bottom Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Rimming, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, kinda a christmas fic Summary: Castiel takes his 8-year-old son Jack to the mall, where Jack decides he HAS to speak to Santa. Cas is glad he did.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 22 #meet cute #destiel #supernatural #fanfic

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secretshinigami · 3 years ago

Text

Meet you under the sun

Author: @lightlessons For: @danthegeek Pairings/Characters: Light Yagami/L Lawliet, Misa Amane, Kiyomi Takada. Rating/Warnings: M. Mature language, Swear words, Alcohol consumption. Prompt: AU Light is a popular Collage Student and invited to a beach party. He is having a lot of fun, is flirty and arrogant as we know him. He is dancing with Misa, who is not his girlfriend but has a crush on him. Then, L joins the party, somebody brought him along. He is chilling awkwardly by the buffet when Light takes notice of him and joins him at the buffet. He has seen him before a couple times on the campus, but never talked to him. What happens next is up to you…

Author’s notes: I bent the specifics a bit in that I had Light talk to L just a bit after seeing him instead of immediately, because i felt it fit the pacing I had better. Hope it’s still okay though :-)

—————————–

“Don’t tell me you’re a Beach Volleyball junior champion too,” Takada joked after Light obliterated (yet again) a team of what appeared to be sociology majors, or something equally pointless, she had that small, half-hearted smile that was so characteristic of hers but with the slight frown of someone who isn’t used to being impressed.

Light laughed humbly.

“I’m not. Maybe my experience with tennis helps somewhat? But I’ve really never played it before.”

His classmate sighed, and Light thought that being constantly made aware of his numerous skills had to be tiring for her. “You must be just naturally talented then,” she supposed as she fixed her hair behind her ear in a strange bashful gesture that must mean she was finally surrendering over to Light’s natural charm, as one would expect.

“Or those two are just awful,” Light smirked conspiratorially.

The young bourgeois laughed, which was what Light was hoping to achieve. Takada always enjoyed laughing at other people’s expense.

Light wasn’t much of a fan of the beach. There was too much sand getting into bad places and too many people acting as if the transition from monkey to hominid had never been made. Too much noise and too much sun and too many girls asking him to slather them with sun blocker, as if he’d pop a boner over touching their skinny naked backs. But, if there was something he’d learned from a very young age was the importance of having good public relations, and so when Kiyomi Takada had invited him to an exclusive beach party, he knew he wouldn’t say no to the daughter of the Sankei Newspaper’s owner. He’d gone into To-Doh not just looking for a quality education after all but in the hope of forming good connections too.

And this party, filled with Tokyo’s most important youth, was a perfect opportunity to start rubbing shoulders. Light was young and attractive and athletic, perfectly composed to be like a bug zapper for these kinds of things.

Plus, the lively music and the three margaritas he’d already had were kinda getting to him.

“LIIIIIIIIGHT!!!” A familiar voice suddenly screeched from somewhere behind him.

Oh dear God.

Five feet of blond supermodel darted towards him through the small crowd of spectators that had formed for the match. Misa Amane, bimbo extraordinaire, had finally shown up to the party in all her unbridled glory.

“Oh, that was so cool! You’re always so cool, Light,” she proclaimed with shiny eyes while all the other men around and some of the women ogled her in her small two-piece red bikini with a blackthorns and vines pattern, as characteristic of the gothic style she favored.

Now, Light didn’t dislike Misa. She was cute in a very whiny-cat kind of way. Sort of endearing at first but jarring as the volume increased and the minutes went on. The first time they met she’d claimed she felt a cosmological affinity towards him or some such bullshit and then proceeded to interrogate him for his zodiac, moon, and rising sign, whatever the hell that meant–he hadn’t been paying attention. She was useful, though, in that she was somewhat famous and happily willing to do him any favors, or connect him with any of her large contact lists, even when he’d already been clear about not being interested in any non-friendly relation with her (using the hardships that came to celebrities’ partners as an excuse), he was a gentleman, after all, and he wouldn’t toy with a woman’s feelings.

“Hey Misa,” Light gave her an easy smile that would hopefully settle her for the rest of the day.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere for the past week! Where have you been hiding? Not with Kiyomi, I hope!”

Takada at his side made an affronted sound that seemed to choke on the way up her throat.

“Behave, Misa. I’ve told you I’m not your property,” Light belittled her with only mild sternness.

Misa shook her head enthusiastically.

“Misa is only teasing, Light! She promises! Besides, Kiyomi and I have started getting along since Spanish class. Haven’t we, Kiyomi?"

Kiyomi seemed startled for a moment, as if she didn’t expect Misa to call her out like that, but recovered quickly to settle her face into her usual cold mask of indifference.

“I suppose so.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. We even planned a fake trip to Playa del Carmen together! Oh, Light, you should join us!”

“I’m taking Korean.”

“Not in class, silly, on the trip!”

"Right… then I happen to be busy around that time of year,” he joked, throwing a smirk at Takada and earning the most formal of snorts he’d heard.

"Miss Amane does have a fondness for fantasizing,” Takada replied instead, like a ready viper waiting for the perfect moment to strike at her victims. Oh, there’s no need to be mean with her, Kiyomi.

The implications seemed to get lost on the blonde, however.

“Pfft, you’re no fun. I’ll borrow him for a bit, Kiyomi. Clearly he needs a little loosening up, and you’re not exactly a party animal, are you?”

Before Kiyomi could reply Misa had already taken Light’s arm and dragged him to the bar for more drinks. Light had to admit, the cocktails options were impressive, and he sort of wanted to try everything on the menu, but in the end, following the beach spirit, he and Misa both ordered a piña colada, and while usually, he wasn’t a fan of too much sweet in his alcohol, the fresh taste felt like a blessing under the hot summer sun, enough that soon he found himself chatting amicably with Misa and even had to catch himself from -dear God- giggling at something she said.

Such was his mildly buzzed state when a sight at the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Turning around, he understood why. A black-haired man was standing under a palm tree and sipping at his own colada, with his back very badly curved in an awful posture and huge eyes fixed somewhere on the sand. Weirdly enough, he was wearing jeans to the beach with only a loose tank top to combat the scorching weather, and still, his wild mop of hair was the most recognizable part of him, which was in itself something, as Light had never in his life seen someone more particular. He’d seen the other boy around campus a handful of times before, but there had never been an opportunity for him to approach him, even though Light had always felt an inexplicably strong pull for him to ask him about his name.

Misa loudly calling his name made him realize he’d been staring.

“Misa, do you know who that is?”

Misa squinted in the direction of Light’s eyes, face lighting up with recognition.

“Of course! That’s Ryuzaki! He’s actually the inheritor of Wammy’s Co. But not many people know about that,” the model smirked like she was telling the juiciest gossip. “People like Takada probably think he sticks out like a sore thumb around here. But the truth is, he’s got more money than any of us combined.” Light’s ears perked up at that. “He’s also one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet, and I’ve met you, Light. I don’t know who invited him, though. Let’s ask him! Hey, Ryuzaki!!"

The odd student turned around towards the voice calling him and tilted his head to the side in silent interrogation.

The boy’s assemblage of quirks brought a smile to his face. He hadn’t allowed himself to think it before, but he had always thought the student was rather cute even with how little he knew of him.

“Who invited you?!”

Light winced and glared at Misa for how carelessly she had posed such a question, but Ryuzaki didn’t seem the least bit faced and instead cupped a hand near his mouth like a mock-megaphone and shouted: “I just came for the desserts!” with a wide-eyed expression that gave no indication whatsoever of if he was teasing or not.

Misa laughed like she’d heard the best joke ever and Light just blinked in the boy’s direction.

“Isn’t he a blast?” She hollered as Ryuzaki’s eyes met his.

It was hard for Light to describe those few seconds, but for one single moment, the strings holding his soul together seemed to vibrate at a different tune than they’d played previously. He was unsure if he shivered, but he had to break the eye contact like some damned school girl to pull himself back together.

Why did his face feel warm all of a sudden?

"Ooh, I love this song! Let’s dance, Light!” Misa interrupted his thoughts again with a squeal.

“Uhh, sure, yeah…"

×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×

Dancing was decidedly not as fun unless you had a certain amount of alcohol in your body. Or at least, that was Light’s opinion on the matter. Who’d enjoy several hours of mindlessly moving your body unless somehow inebriated? That’s why Light had to drink another two mimosas to keep up with dancing with Misa for five songs straight, not because he was somewhat shaken up about the guy with the bird’s nest hair and the absent look –Ryuzaki, his brain provided– and certainly not because he was figuring out how to approach him.

He separated from Misa when the sun was already setting, bathing the sea with a last warm goodbye. Everyone at the beach stopped for a moment to marvel at it, but Light only had eyes for Ryuzaki, who was… nowhere to be seen, sending Light into a momentary panic.

He almost slapped himself when he found him below the parasol housing the buffet. It was what Ryuzaki had said before about the only reason for coming to the party. Normally, he would have remembered, which only meant Light’s brain wasn’t behaving as fast as it normally would. It couldn’t be that he’d have too much to drink, could it?

Alright, be smooth, Yagami.

“Hello!” Light chirped with a wide grin, planting himself beside the strange boy who was staring at the lines of sweets like they were study material.

Ryuzaki turned to him with a blink.

That had come higher than intended.

"We, uh, are in the same faculty? I’ve seen you around 345.”

“Light Yagami. Second-year Criminal Justice major. You’re the son of detective-superintendent Soichiro Yagami of the NPA."

"Um.”

“You respect and admire your father greatly and your intention is to become the deputy director of the NPA. You’re as ambitious as you are clever.”

“Why do you-”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re aware of how popular you are around here, word goes around. You’re not the only one I have this sort of information on."

Light wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring.

At the very least, that introduction had sobered him up.

The other student was appraising him with a curious gaze, as he was starting to learn he looked at pretty much everything.

"Is that the way you introduce yourself to everyone?"

"Hmm. Yes, usually. I told you. You’re not special in that regard.”

“In what regard am I special, then?” Light asked cheekily.

“That’s not-”

But he didn’t let him finish before walking around him like a predator would its prey. He made a show of considering what pastry he’d take and settled for a star-shaped cookie. Ryuzaki watched the whole procedure closely and Light smirked at him as he took a bite.

Yes, I made you think about my mouth now. How’s that, smart-ass?

“I think we should get to know each other better, don’t you?”

“And what makes you come to that conclusion?” Ryuzaki supposed.

“Well, I want to, for one.” Light sassed.

“Are you coming on to me?"

Light’s confident semblance cracked. It suddenly dawned on him what he was doing and where. Fuck, what if he isn’t into guys? This was why he never flirted with men unless he was sure the other person was at least bisexual! Or just let the other guys come onto him, which he never had a lack of. Shit.

Ryuzaki seemed to notice his momentary alarm because he placed a hand on his arm in reassurance.

"No, I’m into it. I was just surprised,” he explained with an earnestness Light wasn’t expecting.

“Surprised?”

“People like you don’t usually flirt with me."

"What’s people like me?"

"Now you’re just fishing for compliments."

Light grinned, feeling like his assured (but not overly-presumptuous) self again.

“Swear I’m not.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Your hand is still on my arm, by the way.”

Ryuzaki blinked at the offender, which was indeed still curled around Light’s tricep like a possessive pale spider. He only let go of it slowly, finger by finger, and Light pretended he could see a faint blush on the other’s face with the last rays of sunlight.

There was a conscious effort on his part to not brush those sharp cheeks tenderly with his knuckles, less the sudden contact spook his new sudden fascination away.

“It appears you’re not the only intoxicated one of the two of us,” Ryuzaki admitted in a low voice.

The loud party music and noises of the crowd seemed so far away.

Light took a step forward.

“We should–”

“Light!”

A group of people was coming their way, and Light recognized Takada, Okubo Chise, Kinoshita Hideo, and another fake-blond dude he’d never had any interest in talking to. Kinoshita was the son of a major tech company’s executive and was rotting in money from his million-dollar hair to the ugly fungus in his toenails. Light, sadly, had had a mild interest for him at first, but that went to shit when he came to see how much of an asshole he was.

Kinoshita grabbed him by the shoulder, while Chise and the fake-blond planted themselves in front of Ryuzaki. Takada, for her part, just stood to Light’s side glaring in Ryuzaki’s direction. What the hell?

“Light, what is someone like you doing talking with a freakshow like Ryuzaki.” Kinoshita wondered, exposing his gums in a self-satisfied smile that quickly raised Light’s hackles. "Don’t you know nothing good ever comes from involving yourself with him?”

“Come again?”

“It’s true, Light. He doesn’t have a good reputation,” Takada interjected, not bothering to hide the disgust in her face with a once-over to his new acquaintance. “I don’t know how he’d have the nerve to come in here, uninvited.”

Frowning, Light searched to see the face of the boy he’d just been so pleasantly flirting with and, outwardly, found him to appear relatively unbothered. He’d expected him to be angry, indignant, or even sad, but Ryuzaki only had his hands in his jean pockets and was yet again staring with wide eyes at some unknown fixed point as if no one were talking about him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific about whatever offense Ryuzaki’s done. But whatever the case, I find it incredibly distasteful to round him up like you’re doing.”

“It’s alright, Light. Kinoshita is probably still just angry because I exposed a nasty little online scam of his, and attained information that could lose him the already crumbling favor of his father, and also the fact that he is nevertheless unable to cause me any significant harm,” Ryuzaki answered matter-of-factly without sparing a single glance at Kinoshita’s direction.

Everyone fell silent for a moment.

Okay, that was…

Extremely attractive.

“You’re a lying little cunt!” Kinoshita snarled.

“The naive teenagers being granted false scholarships would argue otherwise.”

“What? Hideo, you said–” Takada began.

But the small elite group exploded in an argument about what Kinoshita had or hadn’t done, with the latter giving weaker and weaker arguments. Light was so engrossed in his rightful indignation and the opportunity to disgrace Kinoshita, that by the time he called for Ryuzaki’s own word in the matter the strange student had already left without saying a word.

×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×

“Ryuzaki!"

The hunched figure paused in his lazy gait towards the beach boulevard, but the dark disheveled head didn’t turn around. Light was panting by the time he caught up to him and he could feel the beginning of a headache already forming.

Night had already fallen and the breeze charged at them from within the sea.

"You’re already going?"

"I am indeed approximately 700 feet from the party."

"Not what I was asking.” Light rolled his eyes.

Ryuzaki turned around finally, all sharp angles and even darker eyes illuminated by the blue and purple artificial lights on the street.

“Well, your question didn’t contain your true intentions either. You’re asking why I’m going. And I assume this means you’d like to talk more?"

Fastidious asshole.

L didn’t wait for Light to answer before taking his phone from his jean’s pocket and handing it to him with the contact app open.

Light typed quickly and handed the phone back, which finally brought a blessed smile to Ryuzaki’s face.

"I’m looking forward to talking to you soon, Light Yagami. Oh and before I forget."

Long, spidery fingers settled themselves in a careful hold below Light’s chin, and before he had time to process what was about to happen, soft lips gave a feathery kiss to his own, so quick it might have been fantasy if it weren’t for the ghost of a contact searing an imprint over Light’s heart.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you at the entrance ceremony.”

#fanfiction #death note #submission #lawlight #misa amane #kiyomi takada #l lawliet #light yagami #ratings: mature #lightlessons #danthegeek #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

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